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veltana · 1 year ago

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No one as sweet as you - Mafia!Stucky/Reader

✦ Pairing: Stucky/Reader ✦ Word count: ~9,4k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings: Mafia AU, best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, protective!stucky, TW: reader is verbally and physically abused by john walker, idiots in love, sharing a bed, poly relationship, piv sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, praise kink, pet names (Sweets), unprotected sex, creampie. ✦ Summary: When you’re hurt by your boyfriend you go to the two people you can depend on for anything, Steve and Bucky, your best friends. ✦ Note: This is a fic that was previously posted on AO3, at the beginning of the year. But since I'm stuck in writer's block right now I thought I would post this in case you haven't read it. It's one of my favorites. There are some short prequel fics to this also posted on AO3, about when they were living together in college. I'll post those too in the following weeks.

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The bouncer gives you one glance before he opens the door for you and the line of people you pass shout angrily but you don’t even spare them a glance, your thoughts elsewhere. The music in the club usually invigorates you but tonight it passes through without leaving a trace.

Making your way to Monica at the bar, the people you pass shoot you weird glances and you know you must look a mess. When she sees you she comes right over, the music is too loud to talk so you share a squeeze of the forearm in place of a hug before she pours you your favorite wine, with a pitying smile at your smeared mascara. You throw a kiss at her before making your way to the back and once again the big man at the door opens it for you after a quick look.

The music is muted as you make your way to the stairs at the back that take you up to their private room. When your heels land at the top and you meet Bucky's eyes he lifts the girl currently on his lap off and declares "Everyone out."

Steve shoots him an irritated look before his eyes follow Bucky's and sees you. You stand perfectly still while the women and men who were enjoying a private party with two of the biggest mobsters in New York mill past you down the stairs, some even shoot you dirty looks.

When the last person has passed, you take a step towards them, but before you're two steps in, Bucky has taken the glass from your hand and Steve has lifted you into his arms. You cling to him, hands grasping his shirts, and finally, you know you’re safe.

Steve sits down with you in his lap, cradling your head to lean it against him, the other arm holding you tight at your waist. Bucky's palms are gentle when he rubs your back soothingly. None of them say anything at first but the tears running down your face speak for themselves. You made it all the way without breaking down but with them, you can be vulnerable. For the last seven years, they’ve been the rock, the shelter, and your haven.

"Talk to us, Sweets," Bucky's voice is only that soft with you, maybe sometimes with Steve too, “What’s going on?” You try to take a deep breath, but it just stutters. After a few more tries it’s better but you’re not sure where to begin. They give you time, and don't press you on information, like they otherwise do in their line of work.

Finally, you release Steve's shirt and instead, you find the hand he has wrapped around your waist, twisting the rings on his fingers as you try to speak. You don't want to look at them, the shame and the anxiety is running high in your body but you want to tell them, you just have to find the right words.

"You know the guy I've been seeing," you start and feel Steve's arms tighten around you. Before you can say more Bucky mutters "I'm gonna kill him." Steve is calmer and asks, "What about John, Sweets?" He speaks into your hair, his voice is gentle but it has a hard edge. "He's been so sweet since we started going out, but he's been having a rough time at work lately," you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to remember, your heart beating like crazy. The memories bring forth the panic and the fear again and your breath gets shallow.

"It's alright Sweets, you're here with us, nothing can hurt you," Bucky's low voice is comforting, together with their touch, and you know he’s telling you the truth. It’s the reason you came here instead of going home.

You take a few more breaths and continue "So I thought I'd do something nice for him. We had a spa day and while he soaked in the tub I made dinner and dressed up for him." Frowning hard, your fingers spin the rings on Steve's hand faster and faster the more your anxiety builds, knowing what’s coming.

"And everything was great until I poured the wine and spilled some on the tablecloth." Your mouth opens and closes a few times and the tears start to fall again but Bucky is there with his thumbs, cradling your face and brushing them away, while Steve rocks you gently in his embrace.

"He was furious," you cry. "Said I ruined everything! He threw the wine in my face, then the bottle across the room. He tried to grab me but I ran out of there." There is a long silence when you finish, it’s just your sobs and the music from the other side of the wall. Then Steve says "I'm gonna fucking kill him," his voice laced with rage, and he hugs you even closer.

"I took a cab here, I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t wanna go home." With the last words out you feel a small relief. You’ve told them. You’ve told someone. The scene still plays in your head, seeing John's eyes turn black with rage when the drops of rosé landed on the white linen, feeling the fear when he started screaming.

"Thank you for telling us, Sweets. You’re an incredible person," Steve says and moves you out of his lap and over to Bucky's. They treat you with the utmost care, moving slowly, giving you time to protest if you want, or detangle yourself if that's what you desire. But you let them manipulate your body how they like because sometimes they know what you need more than you do.

"You did nothing wrong," he goes on to say, holding onto your hands, letting his thumbs caress the skin. "John is an absolute fucking asshole and no one should be treated like that.” You meet his green-blue eyes that are only soft for you, and Bucky. Right now, Steve isn’t the feared mobster that people avert their eyes from when he enters a room, scared they’re going to end up in a ditch because they looked at him wrong. No, this Steve is your best friend.

"I don't want to be scared, and I don't want to go home in case he comes there," you confess. "You'll stay with us," Bucky decides, voice finite. "Let’s go home so you can take a shower and change clothes." You nod and are about to stand up but Bucky is quicker, changing his grip and holding you close as he gets up. He carries you to the car and doesn't let go of you until you're in their mansion, in the room you have there.

When he puts you down your feet are a little unsteady and they both look at you with concern, but you give them a weak smile “It’s okay.” "We'll be right outside, shout if you need anything," Steve tells you and when you nod they both step out and close the door softly behind them.

For a moment you stand still, trying to make sense of the last hours, wondering how everything went to shit. Then you finally get a good look at yourself in the tall mirror and see the black rivulets of mascara and eyeliner smudged down your cheeks, the foundation almost gone.

The dress is ruined by the wine and even if it was expensive and you can get it dry cleaned you don’t want it anymore. You pull it off and throw it into the trash can, quickly followed by the heels. The lingerie is one of your favorite sets but you're unsure if you will ever be able to enjoy it again without remembering how you chose it especially for John. After a moment it goes into the trash, and the earrings too, feeling like you need everything from the night to be gone.

The only thing you keep on your body is the necklace that was a gift from Bucky and Steve years ago and you haven’t taken it off since. It's custom-made with three delicate chains in gold, silver, and black twisted together. You loved it the moment you saw it, knowing that the chains were the three of you, twisted together through the rest of your lives. When you touch it with your fingers it makes you feel better, because you can feel them with you.

The shower feels more than just bodily cleansing and when you remove the last pieces of your smeared makeup, smoothing eye cream over your puffy eyes, the feeling of fear and panic is distant.

In the closet are a bunch of your clothes, probably more than you like to admit, but the best part is the drawer with their old t-shirts. You pull one out, not sure which of them it used to belong to, but it’s worn and soft against your skin. For a moment you press it against your nose, breathing in the detergent that reminds you of this place and all the wonderful memories that you have with them, before you find your pajama pants.

Out in your room you sit on the bed and look around at the muted colors. Bucky and Steve insisted that the room was yours, not just a guest room, and it makes you smile a little when you think about how much fun you had decorating it.

After taking a deep breath you open the door and find them just a few steps away. The look in Bucky's eyes is murderous and Steve's fists are clenched by his side, but when they turn to you they go back to being your best friends that you met in college all those years ago. "How are you feeling?" Bucky steps up to you and pulls you into a soft hug, tucking your head underneath his chin as you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in the smell of him. Steve comes up behind you, placing his palms on your shoulders, rubbing the muscles carefully. "Better now," you answer. "But I never had dinner so I'm a bit hungry."

Bucky pulls away from you, cradling your face, tilting it up until you're looking right into his light blue eyes. "Let's go raid the kitchen," he smiles and holds your gaze for a few seconds more and there is so much love in those eyes it's almost scary. You know he would burn down the city if it made you happy, they both would, and that intensity is one of the many things that have kept you from finding out what it would be like to be theirs. You're not sure you'd be able to handle it.

When Bucky lets go of you, Steve's arm goes around your waist and he pulls you into him, Bucky takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, and you walk to the kitchen. You sit down at the kitchen island while they open the fridge.

"The chef made mac'n’cheese," Steve says and pulls out an oven pan, covered in tin foil with a post-it note on top with instructions for heating it. Bucky turns on the oven and says, "Want something to drink Sweets?"

"Soda?" you ask and Steve pulls a can out of the fridge before settling down beside you, handing it to you. You hand it right back "Please? I don't wanna fuck up my nails." That makes him chuckle as he opens it and the sound makes you warm on the inside so you lean your head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," you sigh. "For always being here for me. I'm sorry I ruined your party." "You didn't ruin shit," Bucky spits out, glaring at you from where he is standing by the oven. Steve and you chuckle at his harsh tone but then he leans forward, over the counter towards you, resting his large arms against the surface.

"I mean it, Sweets, don't you ever think you ruin anything by showing up, for any reason," his voice is stern but you know it comes from a place of love. "Thank you, Bucky, it means a lot," you smile.

When the oven is warm Bucky puts the tray in and pulls out plates. It only takes a few minutes and your tummy rumbles as the kitchen fills with the smell of cheese. Bucky and Steve make small talk about work things and you're grateful for them filling the silence while you finally get some food.

But it isn't the nice chicken that you cooked for John that you looked forward to eating and your eyes begin to burn. Even though you try to force the tears back they come anyway and run down your cheeks as you eat. Neither Bucky nor Steve notice until you reach for a paper towel and sniffle loudly. Not a second later you're wrapped up in Steve's embrace, crying into his shirt again while Bucky caresses your hair and nape. They mumble sweet things to you and tell you that you're safe and that nothing is ever going to hurt you again.

After a few minutes, the tears run dry. "I'm okay," you say and Steve loosens his hold, his eyes filled with concern for you. "You sure?" "Yeah, but I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Should probably try to get some sleep.” "We're sleeping in my room," Bucky decides and you nod, Steve too.

It's not unusual for the three of you to share a bed when one of you has had a rough time. The first time it happened was after finals and you all fell asleep in Steve's bed, totally exhausted, and slept better than you'd had in weeks.

Then it was after break-ups, yours, Steve's, Bucky's, somehow you all ended up in a bed together every time and it wasn't sexual at any point, just friends being there for each other and it continued through the years. The only time it was out of the question was when one of you was in a relationship, then it just felt weird, and from previous experience, it wasn't something that partners were all that accepting of.

You retrieve your pillows and cover from your room before settling in Bucky’s huge bed, your feet twisted up with Steve's, and Bucky is holding your hand. It's nice, it's familiar and you drift off knowing you're safe with them.

The room is dark when their soft voices wake you, but that might be because of the black-out curtains and not because it's still night. They’ve moved close enough to you that you can feel the warmth from their bodies on either side of you, and Bucky’s chest is right in front of your eyes when you open them slightly to peek. They don't notice you're awake and you don't feel like announcing it either, curious what they’re talking about.

"We let her decide." Even if Steve's tone is hushed it's still hard. "She is too sweet, you know she would never hurt a fly, she's going to say no," Bucky protests harshly in a whisper. This is interesting, you think.

"Even if you and I are fine with getting blood on our hands, maybe she doesn't want to live with that, maybe she wants to press charges." Steve has always been the more level-headed of the two, good with looking at things from all angles and keeping his cool. Bucky huffs and you want to giggle. His emotions always get him in trouble, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. When Bucky is angry he sees red and when he loves he does it with his whole soul and being. One time you asked Steve how he isn’t dead yet since his poker face seems to suck, but Steve explained that when they’re doing business he is usually calm and collected. When his emotions finally break through, people know they should probably run.

"Fine.” You can tell Bucky is not happy but he lowers his voice even more, and now it’s tinged with something else. “But I'm never letting her go again." His words together with his gentle tone make your heart skip. There was a time when you seriously thought about asking them to see if the three of you could work it out, and be more than just friends. But what you have with them is so precious that if it fails in the end, and you lose your best friends, you're not sure how you're going to go on.

"And you think I will?" Steve mutters. "We should have said something a long time ago." "Well, we can't go back in time. All I know is that I love her and I can't see her with anyone else ever again," Bucky's voice sounds like it's going to crack. He never cries but that is as close as it gets.

Steve reaches over you towards him, you can't see what he does but you know how Steve's comforting hands look on Bucky, you've seen it before. Sometimes they're even sweeter with each other than they are with you, when they think no one can see them, not even you. It's so clear that they love each other deeply, honestly it's surprising that they don't just date each other.

You hear Bucky hum in contentment and Steve gives a small soft laugh. It feels like a good time as any to pretend to wake up. You file away their words for another day, not ready to deal with them now in the wake of what’s happened. First, you need to heal the broken heart you're already nursing before thinking about giving it away again.

With a groan you turn from your side to your back, stretching and blinking your eyes open. They're lying on their sides, both resting their heads on their hands. "What time is it?" you mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Just past nine," Bucky informs you and brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. "And you two are still here?" "Just for you," Steve says softly and finds your hand, twisting your fingers together.

Both of them are early risers and you hate mornings, something they tease you for endlessly. "Honestly though, have you already, like, gone for a run, had breakfast, and then sealed some important deal?" "Nope." Bucky slides his arm in under your neck, placing the other hand on your hip, and pulls you closer to him. "We didn't want to leave in case you woke up." Steve shuffles closer, his chest pressing into your shoulder. "Didn't want you to think we left you all by yourself."

You hum and decide to ask "Would it be okay if I stay here a few days?" "Sweets, stay as long as you want. It's your home as much as ours,” Steve answers. "No,” you correct. “My name is definitely not on any papers for this house." "We can fix that if that's what you want. Just move here." Bucky is serious but you decide to laugh it off. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" "Like old times." he smiles.

"Except I have no desire to listen to the people you bring home scream and moan, got enough of that in college,” tumbles out of your mouth without really thinking of it. They exchange a look but before they can say anything you hastily continue. "Do you think I need to break up with John, or do you think he got the message when I left?"

An uneasy silence falls and Bucky breaks it. "I'm gonna be honest with you Sweets, I really wanna fucking kill him, and make it as painful and as horrifying for him as possible. Death will feel like a blessing in the end." Steve speaks next. "But it's your decision, and if you wanna press charges against him, we'll make our lawyers available."

It’s a lot to take in at that moment. "I don't know,” you answer truthfully. “It still hurts, I'm still scared but I'm not sure what will make it better." "When you've decided you let us know and we'll do whatever you want." Steve bends down to kiss the top of your head.

"If I see him on the street or something though I'm gonna punch him," Bucky says casually before letting go of you and getting out of bed. When his warmth leaves you, you whine and that makes him chuckle. He kneels on the bed and kisses your forehead. "Steve will keep you company while I make breakfast." "You mean go get what the chef has already prepared?" you joke. Bucky shoots you a look before leaving the bedroom.

"We should be glad he isn't actually cooking. Remember when he tried to make pancakes for his girlfriend and almost burned down the apartment," Steve notes. "That's because he got distracted. I mean, I'm glad I came out of my room when I did but the image of Bucky and her on the kitchen table still haunts me," you chuckle.

"You weren't exactly innocent back in those days either," Steve points out with a laugh. "But I never did it on the communal surfaces," you defend with a huff. "No, all we got was listening to you trying to stifle every sound and failing miserably." "Well, at least I didn't break a wall while fucking someone." "It was a shitty wall, never have that problem here." "See that's why I don't wanna move here." "We can soundproof your room?" "Or I can just live in my apartment?"

Bucky comes back with a breakfast tray and places it on the bedside table before pulling out your phone from his pants. "It's been buzzing nonstop since I got down," he explains and hands it to you right as the screen lights up with an incoming call.

"It's John," you tell them, and your chest floods with anxiety as you stare at the screen and sit up against the headboard. "Answer it," Steve sits up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. Bucky is pressed against you much the same on your other side. "On speaker," he instructs and takes out his own phone to record the call.

Your hands shake as you swipe to answer. "H-hello." Your voice is wavering. "Baby! I'm sorry for yesterday, I'm sorry I got mad. I've been calling since you left, I've been so worried. I checked your place but you weren't home. Where are you?" John says in a worried voice. "I'm at a friend's house," you reply.

The feelings in your chest are conflicted, on one hand you never want to see him again but hearing his voice makes you remember that when he is good he is great, amazing even, and you would be lying if you said you didn't miss him. For the last few months, you gave it your all and you were even prepared to tell him you love him.

"I'll come and pick you up and let me apologize properly," he sounds pained like he is actually sorry for what he did. Fuck, it's so tempting to go back but you know better. You know that this is just the tip of the iceberg, and getting wine thrown in your face is probably not the worst that can happen.

"No, John." You try to sound confident but you're not sure it comes across. "I don't think it's going to work out between us." The moment you say the words the tears well up and Steve starts rubbing your shoulder." You're doing great," he whispers right by your ear so John doesn't hear.

"Are you-" John sounds shocked. "Are you breaking up with me… over the phone?" "Yeah, sorry." You cringe, you shouldn't be sorry. "You scared me yesterday and I feel like I don't know you anymore."

"Babe you don't need to be scared of me, I would never hurt you I swear," he sounds like he is about to cry and a part of you wants to comfort him. "You threw wine in my face and said some really mean things," you point out.

"I didn't mean any of that, I promise. You know I've had a lot on my plate lately and I didn't mean to take it out on you." There is some part of you that desperately wants to believe him. "That's not an excuse," you go on. "I'm not an object for you to take out your frustration on. It's not going to work John."

There is a long silence before he speaks again and now his voice is laced with rage instead. "Then you can come get your fucking things right now." "John, please don't-" you start but he cuts you off.

"You fucking bitch, you lead me on for months and then you break up with me over the phone, because what? You think I’m gonna hit you or something?" "Yeah, maybe," you answer truthfully. "You're such a dumb bitch, I would never lay a hand on a woman I care about."

Both Steve and Bucky stir beside you. When you shoot them a glance they are both staring at the screen with murder in their eyes. "Calling me names won't change my mind, John," it hurts when he says them, like an actual stab in the heart and it brings out more tears.

Bucky leans over and taps the mute button. "There is no way you're going over there, we'll send Sam and Vis." You nod and unmute while John is raging on about how dumb and useless you are and how he wishes he'd never wasted his time on you. "I'm going to send some friends to pick up my things."

"Oh, so you won't even face me yourself?” his voice is unrecognizable now. “You know what? I'm glad for what I did, I'm not sorry anymore, you're obviously a fucking coward and not worth a second of my time." Every ounce of fight is gone from you, you're just tired and want it to be over. You don’t want to listen to the hurtful words anymore so you simply say "Goodbye John," and don't even wait for a response before hanging up. You drop the phone into the sheets and bury your face in your hands, your body jerking with sobs.

Steve and Bucky’s arms go around you but you hardly notice, everything is just excruciating pain, your heart smashed into a million pieces. Twenty-four hours ago you were happy with a man you thought you knew, and loved, but now everything is broken and you're not sure what you’re going to do next.

It takes a long time for you to stop crying and when it finally ends you're exhausted, again. The coffee Bucky brought has gone cold but Steve holds a glass of juice to your lips and makes you take a few sips before coaxing some yogurt into your mouth. "Steve is going to stay with you while I take care of a few things. If you need me, you tell him and I'll be right back," Bucky promises when he leaves the bed again, taking the tray with him out of the bedroom.

"Is he going to kill him?" you ask softly as you sink down under the covers. Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest until your face is squished against it. "No," his voice is soft. "Not without me." "Steve…" "Can you blame us, Sweets? John was lucky it was over the phone or else we would have beaten him into a pulp for saying those things."

"He never acted like that before," you whisper. "I'm just happy you got out before he put his hands on you," Steve whispers back. "If you had shown up with bruises yesterday I might have lost it." "I love you," you tell him and he kisses the top of your head. "I love you too, Sweets, and I know Bucky feels just the same." You hum and let the exhaustion take over.

They have switched when you wake the next time, you're in Bucky's arms and he is carding his fingers through your hair speaking quietly to you. "Wake up Sweets, it's time for dinner."

Even if you’ve slept right through lunch you shake your head and swing your leg over his hip, clinging to him. "Don't wanna get up," you whine. "If you eat dinner, we can watch a movie on the couch afterward." He knows just how to tempt you and you need something to try and take your mind off everything.

"Candy?" you pull back. Even if the light in the room is dim you can still see the blue in his eyes, and the crinkles at the corners when he smiles. "You know we keep stock of everything you like, there is always something sweet for our Sweets."

You hug him hard. "I love you Bucky, you know that right?" "I love you too, Sweets." He kisses the top of your head, much like Steve did earlier. "And I know Steve feels just the same." That makes you giggle "Steve said the same thing." "Well he is a smart man," he shrugs.

Bucky all but pulls you out of bed but he doesn't force you to change out of your pajamas. He leads you to the kitchen where Steve is plating the food and your stomach grumbles when you smell it. They have set the table with candles and it looks lovely but it also reminds you of your last candle-lit dinner. Bucky sees the look on your face turns you away from it and tilts your chin up with his fingertips, "It’s…” he begins, hesitating, trying to find the right words. “We want to replace every bad memory, but if it’s too much too soon we’ll throw it all out.”

The scary thing is that he is serious. If you said the word they would throw everything out, but you don't want that, you want a nice dinner with them and try to get past what happened. Maybe it will help, maybe it won’t but you won’t know until you’ve tried. And if there is one thing you know for sure, it is that you are safe with them.

“It’s fine, I’ll try,” you promise with a smile before turning around to sit down at the table. Steve serves the food and Bucky pours you a glass of wine. After a few bites, Bucky brings up some stupid shit the three of you did a long time ago and through dinner, you reminisce about old times.

Since meeting John you haven't seen them as much because you learned early on that partners were weirded out or even jealous of what you had with them. Right now you can’t fathom why you would ever do that, because these two people are the best thing in your life.

You fold your napkin into your lap and look at them. "I'm sorry for, like, ghosting you the last few months," you swallow hard. "I've been a shitty friend but you always take care of me when I need you, and I’m so thankful for that. I promise I’ll do better."

"It's okay sweets," Steve smiles and reaches over the table to grasp your hand. Bucky takes the other and his thumb caresses your knuckles. "Don't apologize, there is no need." The lump in your throat is from love and not from sadness this time and you don't try to speak, just nod, squeezing their hands back.

Afterward, you cuddle up on the couch to watch a movie but ten minutes in you're already nodding off. When Steve and Bucky notice you're asleep they turn the TV off and Steve carries you up to Bucky's bedroom. "She has work tomorrow," Bucky whispers and pulls the cover up over your body. "Fuck, should we wake her?" Steve asks back. "No, let her sleep, she starts at nine so if we let her sleep til seven it should be fine."

Fortunately, the alarm on your phone goes off as usual but when you turn to snooze it, you instead roll into a warm chest. Steve grumbles and reaches for your phone, handing it to you before seizing you around the waist, and burying his face in your neck.

“Hey, I have to get up,” you mutter. It feels like your eyes are filled with sand and your head is pounding but you have to go to work nonetheless. “You don’t have to work,” he speaks into your skin and it makes a tingling feeling travel through you.

“Don’t be silly, let go of me,” you chuckle and detangle yourself. The other side of the bed is empty, Bucky already up. You drag yourself over to your room to shower before getting ready and eating breakfast. Steve insists on driving you to work and Bucky comes and sees you off with a long hug and a kiss on your hair. “I’ve put Clint and Peter to watch your apartment and Sam and Vis are going to be outside your work all day, Sweets.” “Thank you, Bucky.”

When Steve drops you off he points out the car. "If you see John or you for any other reason feel unsafe you can go to them right away, or call us,” he tucks a strand of hair in behind your ear. “Don’t hesitate. You mean everything to us and we want to keep you safe, Sweets,” You nod. “Thank you, Steve,” you whisper, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek before heading to work.

What you told yourself would only be a few days, turns into a few weeks and now it’s almost two months. Despite your initial refusal, you’re enjoying living with them again. A few times after the break-up, John tried to contact you and every time the phone started buzzing and your anxiety spiked you found one of them and they helped you through it.

You haven’t slept in your room once and neither has Steve, it's always the three of you sleeping in Bucky's bed. It could be because Bucky has an expensive bed that you sleep so soundly, but in the back of your head, you know it’s because their presence calms you.

If Bucky or Steve can't drive you to work, someone else does, your own car is still parked on the street by your apartment and you don’t have any desire to go get it. But you do miss some of your clothes, and toiletries, so maybe you should take it as a sign that you need to go back.

After getting home from work that day you walk up to their office, a little apprehensive. Both of them are leaning over the desk when you poke your head in, their cuffs rolled up, exposing their underarms. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, they look too good. Steve sees you first and a smile splits his face. “Hey Sweets, have a good day at work?”

Bucky turns and opens his arms towards you when you step into the room. His hug is warm and comforting and you answer Steve’s question with a yes, before taking a step back from them. "I know I said I was only going to stay a few days but it's been way more than that now, so I think I'll go back to my place after work tomorrow." You try to sound as neutral as possible, neither sad nor happy, just stating a fact.

"No," Bucky breathes, fists tightening at his sides. "I agree with Bucky, don't leave," Steve's voice is calm and his face doesn’t give much away but his eyes are betraying him, they’re too glossy, too wide, and too filled with fear to miss.

The other reason you need to go back home is the way they are treating you and touching you. It’s making your feelings run wild and you can't have that, you can’t risk losing them too. And if that wasn't enough they've invaded your dreams with their touches and words, making you wake up aching for them in a way that is totally inappropriate.

"I can't stay, you know that," you sigh. "No, I don't." Bucky is frustrated, staring at you. "I really fucking don't know why you can't stay. We love having you here and you seem to love being here. Just stay."

His mood is making you defensive, you don't want to explain that you're obviously catching feelings soon after getting out of something traumatic. You need to think, and every time you wake up drenched, tucked in between them you are seconds away from ruining everything by confessing or honestly just taking one of their hands and pushing it in between your legs, hoping they will help you get off.

"I need my own space, Bucky," you cross your arms and glare at him. "You have your own room," he states and takes a step closer. "That I don't use anyway," you reply and take a step back. "Because you don't want to!" His raised voice silences you not because you're scared but because he's right. Bucky isn’t stupid and he's not the type to sugarcoat things when he's upset.

Your heart is hammering. "No I don't want to," you confess with a breath. "But I need to." Then you turn to go but only get a step from the desk before Steve grabs your wrist. He spins you into his chest, Bucky coming up behind you, boxing you in between them. Bucky's head falls on your shoulder. "I can't let you go again, Sweets, I can't do it."

Your mind flashes back to the morning when you pretended to sleep and heard them talking. The breath in your chest hitches as you look up into Steve's blue-green eyes. “I’m with him, Sweets,” he says in a low voice and cups your cheek with his large hand. “You belong here, with us.”

Your mouth opens and you try to protest but it dies on your tongue and Steve takes the opportunity to continue. "We love you, more than anything, we want you to be ours, more than just our best friend. Live with us, be with us in every sense of the word. All three of us, together," his voice wavers at the end.

The words sink in slowly. Be with them. Be theirs. Stay. Your body is aching to say yes and your heart is about to beat its way out of your chest. “But…” “All I know is that I feel incomplete without you, like a part of my soul is somewhere else, and the only time I'm at peace is when I'm with you two. I can't keep living like a part of me is missing. So I'm asking you, please stay, please help us figure this out and be with us." Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist. "Every time I see you with someone else my heart gets ripped out of my chest and I've tried to be with other people, we both have, but in the end, they’re not you."

Their confessions break down your defenses as their words ring true. In all your relationships over the years, there's always been something missing but you've never been able to figure out what. There's been passion and there's been love but it's always lacking something and now you think you get it. It has lacked them and the deep connection you share through years and years of friendship. Feeling stupid about wanting to leave and thinking you weren’t ready to be with them makes tears well in your eyes. Whatever it is you three can figure it out, it may not be traditional but it beats being unhappy.

"Don't cry, Sweets." Steve runs his thumb over your cheek. You lean your head into his chest, nodding against it. "I'll stay," you sniffle. The arms around your waist tighten and Bucky speaks into your shoulder. "Really Sweets?" he sounds like he’s worried that maybe you're joking.

"Really Bucky," you promise, wrapping your arms around Steve and hugging him close. For a moment it’s just the three of you enveloped in your shared love but then Bucky rights himself and you look up at him over your shoulder, matching his silly smile.

He leans in like he is about to kiss you but he stops himself, his eyes searching yours for something, and it's scary. If you take the plunge everything will change, or maybe it won't, but it feels like an earthquake is rolling through your life, upsetting everything and if you let him kiss you it will be real. But that's what you want.

"Please?" you ask him and his whole face lights up before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. It could be described as fireworks, an erupting volcano, or maybe feeling the first rays of sunlight on your skin after years in darkness, but nothing will come close to the feeling of being kissed by Bucky.

It's a chaste kiss with just his lips moving carefully against yours. It's over quicker than you want but in his place is Steve, turning your head back towards him and descending on you. His fingers run through your hair and he opens your mouth to let his tongue play with yours, the feeling once again indescribable, it's just the feeling of right. Everything about it feels right.

Even if the kiss is slow when he pulls back your breathing is labored and you're clutching his shirt. "I-" you begin but can’t find any words. That kiss ignited something inside you, it's like you're seeing color for the first time, everything is clearer and sharper. What even was your life before?

"Are doing okay Sweets?" Bucky asks next to your ear and you nod in response. When his soft lips caress the side of your neck you whimper and lean your head to give him better access, he chuckles against your skin, nipping it and making you gasp. "I wanna eat you up, find out what you taste like everywhere."

It’s a badly kept secret that Bucky has a marking kink. You’ve seen his exes, you know he's possessive and likes to leave marks. You can't wait to have them on you so you whisper, "Mark me.”

Steve chuckles above you. "She knows you, Bucky," he says with a smile. "You too, Steve, please?" You’re almost begging, but not quite, just asking nicely. "You want me to give you a hickey?" he asks with a crooked smile but those eyes are too easy to read. He craves you. "Or a bruise, or a bite mark, something, anything," "Fuck…" His face changes to match his dark eyes. "You want everyone to know you belong to us, Sweets?" he asks with a hoarse voice and you feel the large bulge in his pants press against your stomach.

You nod, biting your lip. "Show me how you do it, Bucky.” They spin you around and Bucky grabs at the collar of your blouse, pulling harshly, sending the buttons flying over the office. “Hey-” you begin but he pulls the fabric aside exposing the juncture between your shoulder and neck. First, he sinks his teeth in, hard enough for you to hiss but not breaking the skin, then he closes his lips and sucks.

It's painful but the act in itself makes you throb. When he pulls back you release your breath but Steve is quick to pull the neckline on the other side and do the exact same thing. He is gentler but when he's done there is still a purple bruise on your skin. "Fuck me," you whimper against Bucky.

"Yes, Sweets, we will. Long and hard until you can't take it anymore. We're going to ruin you." Steve promises before he grabs you and lifts you up, spinning you so you can wrap your legs around him as he starts walking to the bedroom, Bucky right behind you. You reach your hand out towards him and he grabs it, kissing your palm and knuckles. "We're going to take care of you Sweets, you'll never want for anything," he promises with a wicked smirk.

Steve places you on the edge of the bed and stands up, looking down at you. Bucky comes up beside him, resting his forearm on Steve's shoulder. "Look at our sweets, can you believe it?" Bucky asks. Steve turns to him with a smile. "Yes." Then he places two fingers under Bucky's chin, turning his head before kissing him. It's heated, filthy and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. You squeeze your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure you're feeling in your cunt. Their kiss shows that it's nothing new, they've obviously done it before and you're a little mad that they have withheld this from you.

When Steve starts pulling on Bucky's clothes you can't keep the moan from slipping out. They both break away and turn to you and you feel small in the best way possible. "Did you like that?" Bucky asks before leaning down and kissing you.

The knowledge that his tongue was just in Steve's mouth and is now sliding against yours makes you moan again. You start undoing the buttons on his shirt and he pulls on your top. When you separate, he pulls it off and you’re left in just your bralette. Steve makes a sound in the back of his throat at the sight and starts taking off his own clothes.

Bucky kneels in front of you on the floor, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off, while you stare at Steve as more and more skin is revealed. He holds your gaze the whole time and you bite your lip when he starts at his pants. His chest and forearms are huge, covered in tattoos but in no way hiding the muscle underneath. It makes your mouth water and your cunt clench.

Bucky starts kissing up your bare leg, beginning at your ankles and slowly working his way up your calve and the inside of your thigh. When you're still staring at Steve he nips your skin. "I know he's gorgeous but when I eat your pussy I want your eyes on me, Sweets." He tries to look offended but his pupils are blown wide with lust.

Just the thought of him between your legs makes a shiver run through you and your cunt impossibly wetter. Nodding at him you caress the side of his face and watch him, the closer he gets, the more you start to tremble with need. No one had ever made you feel so needy and horny.

Bucky kisses your cunt through your underwear, making you gasp. "Please Bucky, I need you." "I know, I can smell how fucking wet you are Sweets." He twists your panties out of the way. "Fuck, Steve, look at her, she's dripping."

Steve, in just his underwear now, slides his fingers gently through the mess, making you tremble and moan, before bringing the fingers to his mouth and holding your gaze as he licks them clean. Then Bucky's mouth is on you, his tongue licking from your core up to your clit.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-" you cry and grab the sheets under you, bucking up into his touch. Steve chuckles and gets behind you on the bed. "He looks like he's in heaven, Sweets. He has wanted you for so long." You feel his fingers undo the clasp of your bra and then slide it off. His hands cup your tits a second later, making more sounds spill out of your mouth. His fingers rub, caress, and pull on your nipples while Bucky is hurdling you toward your climax.

"I'm- I'm gonna-" Your legs shake and you grab Steve's arm with one hand, the other going to Bucky's head, grabbing his short hair. Every muscle in your body tenses right before the coil snaps, making you scream out your release, riding Bucky's face and feeling the pleasure-filled waves travel through your body.

You slump against Steve's and he holds you. Bucky pulls back with a shit-eating grin, wiping his face with the back of his hand, saying "Fuck Sweets," before he stands up and starts taking off his clothes.

You already feel amazing, high off your orgasm but you want more and Steve's hard-on is pressing into your back. You turn around on the bed. "Move up," you tell him and his smirk is knowing but he does as you say and moves to sit against the headboard.

You rid yourself of your drenched panties before grabbing his boxers and pulling them off. "Eager Sweets?" he chuckles and fists his cock as soon as it's free. It's thick and long as him and you can't fucking wait. You bite your lip before asking "Condom?"

"I know we should but I want to feel you raw Sweets,” he confesses. “Are you on birth control?" "Sure, and I got tested the week after…" you trail off not wanting the bad memories to ruin the moment. Bucky's heat is suddenly behind you, grabbing your hair and forcing your head back to kiss you deeply. When he lets go he says, "Steve and I got tested like a week before you moved in and I've not even looked another person's way since then." Steve laughs "And I haven't fucked anyone either so get over here and ride my cock Sweets."

To say you scramble is an accurate description, quickly shuffling over to him and straddling his hips. You hold onto his shoulders as he swipes the head of his cock through your mess, holding it still for you to sink down on.

All three of you moan in unison as his dick disappears into your tight hot channel. The grip Steve has on your hips is almost bruising and the look on his face is painful. “F-fuck. Sweets. Damn.” Is all he gets out. You lean in, kissing his cheeks and chin and lips, and start to move, slowly, the feeling is amazing, he's filling you up to the brim perfectly.

"Feels so good," you stutter and then drop down hard. "I'm never watching porn again," Bucky says from behind you and you watch him over your shoulder, kneeling on the bed and jerking his cock. You whine in the back of your throat, you want him too, so you reach for him as you bounce on Steve's cock, making him spill the most delicious sounds.

Bucky shuffles over and you grab his dick in your hand, he's big enough that it doesn't fit all the way around. His hand lands on Steve's shoulder to steady himself and Steve reaches out to place a hand on his hip.

The sounds the three of you make fill the room. It's moans, groans, and whimpers, the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness. Your clit is steadily rubbing against Steve, getting you closer and closer. Bucky is panting heavily, Steve is too.

"Sweets, I can feel you. Are you gonna come on my cock?" Steve is trying to sound unaffected and failing miserably, but he continues to spill filth that rushes you toward the edge. "When I've filled you up, Bucky is gonna fuck my cum right back into you, aren't you Buck?" "Fuck yes," he groans before leaning in and kissing you deeply. “I wanna see you come on his cock Sweets.”

"Next time I wanna feel both of you come in me at the same time," you whimper. "Sweets, you goddamn slut." Steve groans with a laugh and bucks up into you harder. "Tell us more! Please! I want to hear every filthy little thought hidden inside that mind."

You turn to look at Bucky. "I want both of you in every hole. I want you to use me like I'm a toy and worship me like a queen," you tell him, then turn to Steve. "Put my name on the house and celebrate it by fucking in every room, on every surface, show me all of your kinks, give me everything."

Steve's eyes are screwed shut and he's let go of Bucky to grab your hips, pulling you down onto his big cock. "Keep going," you urge him, your release just a few thrusts away. But he's too close and before you can get there he suddenly sits up to wrap his arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest, thrusting up hard, and comes with a loud moan of your name.

You feel wild, right on the edge of ecstasy but left dangling in mid-air. With pleading eyes and a whine you look at Bucky who smirks at you before pulling you away from Steve and laying you on your back. A second later he fills you up, the sound of his cock pushing through Steve's mess is as sweet as it's nasty.

"Please, Bucky, please," you beg. "Yeah I know, don't worry, not gonna blow my load early," he taunts over his shoulder at Steve who just gives him the finger. "Understand him though, you’re so tight and warm Sweets. Makes me a bit crazy. I just want to fill you up over and over again," he confesses.

"I need to-" you begin but he cuts you off. "Rub your clit for me. Come on my cock," he demands but you know something that is even better than your own fingers and you reach out your arm.

"Steve," you plead and he crawls over to you and lays down beside you, pushing his hand in between your bodies, finding your clit. You arch off the bed with his touch, hands clutching Bucky's arms as he rams into you. The dual sensation is amazing and with how close you were seconds ago the end approaches quickly. Your moans get louder the closer you get and both Bucky and Steve praise you the whole way through.

"You sound so fucking pretty."

"I can barely move you gripping me so tight."

"You're so good at taking cock, Sweets. First mine and now Bucky's, it's like you were made for us."

You nod at the last thing and the pressure in your body is breaking, making your muscles convulse, almost pushing Bucky out with how hard you're coming, screaming their names as you do.

"Fuck! Yes, Sweets!" Bucky’s laugh is a little manic as he works you through it. "I'm going to fill our sweet little cunt with more cum." His hips stutter against you before he groans out your name and collapses on top of you. You run your fingers over his sweaty back and kiss his cheek. Then you turn to Steve, smiling at him beside you. "He's heavy," you complain.

Both of them laugh and Bucky rolls off before they move until you're squeezed in between them, their cum running down your legs, making a mess on the bed. Fortunately, you have at least two other beds to sleep in.

For a few months, you're walking on air. In a throuple with your two best friends, amazing sex, luxury beyond what you could have ever imagined. They constantly spoil you and they've tried to convince you to quit your job since you don't need to work when you're with them.

Tonight you're in another fancy restaurant. Bucky is trying to feed you chocolate cake because it's romantic but you tell him over and over again that you can eat by yourself. Suddenly Steve stiffens beside you and since he isn't known to have tells, you immediately get worried and follow his gaze.

John is standing at the door with a pretty girl on his arm, talking to the waiter and then being shown to a table. Next to yours.

When your eyes meet he stops for a second and his date shoots confused looks between the two of you, before you nod and he nods back, then moves again and sits down.

Steve asks for the check and you're out of your seat and outside the restaurant in no time. Bucky holds your coat as you put it on and a moment later Steve comes out too. His eyes are black with hate and when you're finally in the car you realize that you can't live like this.

"I think-" you begin, swallowing then clearing your throat, "I think I'm going to need those lawyers."

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planet-hwa · 24 days ago

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: ̗̀➛ immunity to my charms ✧༺♥༻∞

୨୧ summary your friendship with wooyoung blossomed at the start of university, and being friends with him came along with his charming and flirtatious personality. even if you flirted back, you always believed you were immune to his true charms… god were you so wrong.

pairing fratboy!wooyoung x reader genre university/frat au, best friends to... undetermined. a small plot with a lot of smut hehet.. word count 4.7k

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

warnings MDNI !! petnames/nicknames, teasing, mentions of vomiting, alcohol consumption, mentions of previous hookups, swearing, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl!!), breast play, cunnilingus, accidental overstimulation, aftercare

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i'm not immune to you, i'm only human now playing moonlight magic ; ashnikko ⇄ ◁ II ▷ ↺

⋮≡ in queue ◦ all mine ; plaza ◦ dangerous ; thomas larosa ◦ igloo ; kiss of life ◦ make you mine ; madison beer ◦ more than friends ; isabel larosa

The library sat in silence, the only sounds being the clock ticking on the wall and the whispered conversations between well focused students. Flipping the pages of your ‘Crime, Criminality and Criminal Justice’ textbook, you jot down crucial notes needed for your end of year exams. Your knuckles were stained in red and blue colours due to the amount of time you had spent writing, which by now would have been at least a few hours. Soft tunes were playing through your headphones, never being able to truly focus on work without having some sort of musical stimulation. The volume lowered quickly, followed by a ding of message notifications.

woo ♡ hey darling, what are you doing tonight? i’m assuming nothing because you have no friends, other than the one and only 😏 y/n that’s weird, i don’t remember calling us friends woo ♡ you’re right. you called me your best friend!! y/n and i’ve regretted it ever since woo ♡ 😘 y/n 🤢 anyways, i’m not doing anything tonight except rewatching criminal minds and shoving copious amounts of junk food into my face woo ♡ wow boring… and low-key depressing, do you need therapy again? whatever. does that mean you don’t want to come to the frat house tonight for a little party? y/n what’s the occasion? woo ♡ to get drunk and make bad decisions 🫡 y/n okay, i’m in.

As the uber drove down the street, music became visibly louder until you were sat outside the large frat house. Even before entering the house, you could feel your ears prepare themselves to be ringing the next day. There were crowds of people conversing, all holding random alcoholic beverages in their hands. Some people were behind bushes either vomiting or peeing, it was best not to find out which one. Making your way up the front stairs and through the crowded hallways, you eventually made it to the living room, scanning all the drunken faces for any familiarity. Now realising that what Wooyoung meant by ‘a little party’ was actually one of their monthly ragers they throw.

The ATZ Frat House was known to throw the best parties amongst all the colleges in the area. They always remained the talk of the town for the passing month until the next one occurred. Whether it was because the police were called, or because Mingi and San were jumping off the roof and into their backyard pool, there was always something that people couldn’t stop boasting about.

Still studying the room, your eyes finally landed on two friendly faces, Mingi and Yunho, the two tallest members of the frat. Both had beers in their hands and were bopping along to the music, Mingi screaming incoherent drunk lyrics into Yunho’s ears, and him trying to save himself from hearing loss. Pushing through the dancing bodies, you reached your hand out and were welcomed in with a spin from Yunho, slightly losing balance and falling into his chest with a laugh.

“Y/N! You made it!” Yunho shouted, trying to get his voice higher than the music levels. He held out his drink and offered a taste, quickly accepting the liquor.

“Of course! Wooyoung said this was gonna be a lot smaller though.” Taking a small sip and grimacing at the bitter taste, you’ve never really been a beer drinker. “By the way, where is he?”

“Not sure, but there’s drinks in the kitchen and he put some in the fridge for you.” Yunho smiled brightly at you, still swaying with the music.

“THIS THAT GAME OF THRONES, YEEZY, NOT THE CLONES!!” Mingi yelled behind you, aggressively jumping up and down like he was at a middle school dance.

Sending him a quick smile and a small chuckle, you ventured through the crowd again to enter the kitchen. There were only two or three people in there, most either outside or snug in the living room. You opened the fridge to find your favourite alcohol staring back at you, a small sticking note with the words ‘Y/N’s, no touching!’ written on it.

“I chose right, didn’t I, love?” A voice breathed into the crook of your neck, two arms wrapping around your waist tightly. Two very familiar arms. You grabbed one of the bottles and spun around to face your friend, a cocky smirk curled on the corners of his lips. He wore his favourite red hoodie that hung off his shoulders slightly, unzipped enough to reveal a peak of his bare chest. “I know you so well.”

“Do you own any other clothes or just that one hoodie?” You raised an eyebrow, taking a quick sip of your drink which he was quick to snatch and have a sip himself.

“Don’t lie, you love it.” He smirked, his hands still resting on your waist. He was telling the truth, you did love the way he looked in that specific hoodie, the way he would wear it so it fell enough to show off the top of his muscular pecs. But you would never admit that and risk feeding into his already enormous ego. His hands fell from your waist, his fingertips leaving a light trace of your curves as they met your hand, unwarranted goosebumps arose on your skin to the touch. Gripping tightly, he led you both back into the living room to join the majority of dancers, surrounding yourself with his other fraternity brothers and the girls some had on their hips.

You hated to admit it but there was always a part of you that wanted more from Wooyoung. More flirtatious remarks, more feather-light touches… more intense touches. There was always the dream of moving up from a friendship. You heard the way the girls on campus would talk about how Wooyoung was in bed, you heard about the ‘sex god’ he was from him himself, but the overheard whispers from the people he slept with were more confirmation that he had a reason to be so confident in his work. It’s not that he had never made a move on you. He consistently attempted it at the beginning of your relationship, but as it grew to higher levels of friendship, it died down. Flirty comments that were laced with sexual intent became closer to simple compliments, body language remained physical but grew more casual. There was always underlying teasing but it was a part of your usual friendship banter. You adore your best friend and the relationship you two have and want nothing more than for it to remain the same, but if you could go back in time; would you have accepted his advances better?

The bass was blasting through the room, the floors vibrating under everyone’s feet. The night hadn’t slowed down, everyone still dazed with energy and alcohol. You were dancing with some of your friends who all had someone connected to them. San, another member of the ATZ Frat, was behind you. His hands rested on your hips, guiding your movements to fit with his rhythm. Your bodies were glued together, grinding against each other to the music. You and San had a small history of hookups, but always stuck to being good friends, though it didn’t stop the two of you from having fun every now and then. Mingi was still bobbing up and down, yelling and throwing his hands up childishly, Yunho next to him but too preoccupied by swapping saliva with a brunette girl from the year below.

You were a few drinks down now… three… maybe four, plus the additional ten or so shots, but you had never felt better. All your worries about school and life problems vanished into thin air the moment liquor had hit your tongue. All you could think about was San grinding against your ass, silently wishing it was someone else. Your eyes surveyed the room, searching for your best friend, eventually landing your gaze on him. He was on the opposite side of the dance floor, his lips locked with someone the girl you didn’t like. Ever since you started college, she has hated you for no reason. You never even spoke to her but the death glares she would shoot your way made it clear you would never be friends. And Wooyoung knew how she was towards you, so why would he be making out with her? Of course, you had no control over who he could hook up with, but you would think he would choose any of the other girls who throw themselves at him every party over this bitch. The worst thing was; you couldn't tell if you were upset he was making out with the girl who tries to make college a living hell for you, or the fact that it wasn’t you…

Wooyoung’s eyes met yours in a piercing stare, sharply watching you over the girl’s shoulder. He had never targeted you with such an intense look in his eyes. They were glistening with emotions, some harder to depict than others. One thing was certain; there was anger in them, with an unknown emotion underlying it. His glare was sending chills through your entire body, the hairs on the back of your neck spiked up. Though his lips were attached to someone else, his gaze was set on watching your every move with San. It was confusing and was making your head begin to spin out of control. The true state of your intoxication was preparing to spill, your cheeks began to go numb and you could feel the vomit creeping up your throat. You swiftly left San’s grasp, receiving an unappeased reaction, until he processed the state you were in and let you go without retaliation. Fighting your way between sweaty dancers and passionate make outs caused your brain to rapidly beat in your skull, your eyes began to paint themselves black and you were sitting on the brink of passing out. The sudden cool air of the empty kitchen slapped you in the face, eyes closing at the refreshing feeling. You made your way to the sink, grabbing a plastic cup and pouring yourself some water. chugging down the cool liquid quickly, it felt as if you had been dehydrated for weeks. The nausea feeling subsided the moment the water hit your lips, the drums in your head became quieter and your vision became more clear again. You pushed the cup aside and lifted yourself onto the bench resting your head on the upper cabinets.

The kitchen was empty, leaving you in complete silence, the only noise being muffled music from the other room. This was the most peace you had felt since arriving. Your mind drifted back to Wooyoung, there were so many questions that needed answering. Why would he hook up with her? Why was he looking at you the whole time? Why was he angry? The constant overthinking had the band in your head begin to play again. You sighed and slowly rubbed your temples, trying to focus on the solitude of the room and not on…

Music filled the room in a haste, bouncing off the walls and leaving just as quick. Quiet footsteps could be heard entering the room, the door sliding shut behind them.

“Y/N?” The voice, all too familiar, held by the one person you didn’t particularly want to see at the moment. You didn’t lift your head or open your eyes, sending silent prayers that he would get the message and leave. But it’s Wooyoung, of course he wouldn’t leave.

“Y/N.” The sternness in his voice came as a shock. You glanced up and were met with an annoyed expression masking Wooyoung’s face.

“I’m fine, I just needed a break.” You sighed, reapplying pressure to your temples. “Go back to your little hook up, I’m sure she’s missing your company.”

Wooyoung scoffed, pushing his hair back with his hand just for the front strands to fall back to covering his face. “Is that why you looked so mad just now? Because I was hooking up with her?”

The emphasis on the last word proved he already knew the answer. He knew how you felt about her and how she felt about you. He knew that you usually didn’t care about his hookups, but because it was with her; you cared. He knew that you being upset wasn’t just because of her.

“Why would you even go for her when you could get any girl you want?”

“Because the girl I want doesn’t seem to want me back.” He slowly drifted towards you, settling himself in between your knees and resting his hands on your thighs. “Don’t you?”

His thumb started to swirl small circles on the sides of your thighs. The simple touch mixed with Wooyoung’s alcohol rasped voice caused butterflies to flourish in your stomach. Lifting your gaze to meet him, his deep brown eyes were filled with emotions as they looked back at you. Fully processing his past comment and realising he had never been this forward with you, with anyone you've seen him with.

“Woo, we can’t.” You breathed, barely coming out as an audible whisper. “Because we’re-”

“Because we’re friends, I know.” Abruptly interrupting with his usual sass. “But you can’t say that and then go and hook up with San, again, as if the two of you aren’t friends as well.”

“That’s different.”

“Why? Because he’s not your best friend?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay,” was all he could spill out. An uncomfortable silence filled the room, so silent that the muffled beats in the background sounded as if they were miles away. Wooyoung’s thumbs ceased their movement, his eyes now staring at his hands on you. “If you truly have no feelings for me, none that exceed friendship, then tell me and I will leave it alone. We can go back to being best friends and forget this whole conversation. Just tell me.”

‘No feelings that exceed friendship’

Those five words rattled around in your head. You couldn’t deny that your feelings for Wooyoung did exceed friendship. You tried for so long to push it down thinking he never felt the same, but he just proved you wrong. The overthinking began to creep in; did he actually mean it, was he just trying to get laid, and if he was then why didn’t he stick with the blonde, did he just want to play with you? Your breath hitched and your heartbeat was as prominent as ever, it felt as if it was about to tear out of your chest.

The silence that followed you was concerning to Wooyoung, thoughts of uncertainty were filing into his brain. Had he crossed the line by suggesting anything? The tension between the two of you that was obvious in every room, was it truly one-sided the entire time? He lifted his head, your eyes instantaneously connecting, as he searched for any sign of hesitancy. Your gaze shifted around his face, examining every little detail; from his sharp features to the mole under his eye and on his bottom lip, his lips holding a small pout at the corners. The dim kitchen lights caused shadows to cascade around his face, he had never looked more beautiful.

Were you really about to do this?

Without hesitation, your hand moved up to his face, gently cupping his jaw. Gravity pulled his face gradually closer to yours, lips mere inches apart — so close that your warm alcoholic breaths mixed in the air between. Wooyoung was quick to notice that you weren’t in a hurry to pull away from him, and even quicker to crash his lips into yours. Before letting the regret burn through your body, you fell deeply into the kiss, his soft lips caressing yours in a synced motion. His hands gingerly held your face, fingers lightly tracing your jawline as his body moved closer. The kiss immediately grew fiery and needy, Wooyoung’s tongue tracing your bottom lip and slipping in to explore your mouth. Your tongues danced rhythmically together, alcohol lingering in the taste you shared. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach once again as Wooyoung’s hands wandered around your body, shifting from your waist to your hips, reaching for any part he could touch. Pulling away for air, you watched as Wooyoung chased your lips, concentrating on your moves through hooded eyes. “Let’s go to your room.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He smirked, taking hold of your hand and leading you out of the kitchen. As you walked through the crowded room and towards the stairs, the girl he was previously making out with ran up to you.

“Wooyoung, come dance with me again!” She whined pathetically. Her gaze — turned to a glare — went to your connected hands, face screwing at the sight.

“Not interested sweetheart.” Wooyoung dismissed and continued up the stairs, ignoring her scoffs.

“You’re not seriously gonna hook up with this whore, are you? She wouldn’t be as good as me and you know it-”

“I said fuck off, didn’t I?” He shouted, knowing she’d hear even over the music. His grip on your hand tightened before pulling you away and into his room, leaving the girl in shock.

Wooyoung’s lips pashed into yours once again as soon as the bedroom door closed, this time with more desperation, his tongue instantly clashing with yours. After all the years of wanting to kiss you and now finally getting to, he was addicted in an instant — hypnotised by your touch. Your back pushed up against the wall, trapped between it and Wooyoung’s frame, hands tangled at the nape of his neck and lightly tugging on the hair. He groaned into the kiss, sending flutters straight to your core, his hard-on pressing tightly against his jeans and poking you in the thigh. Guiding you to the bed, lips still relentlessly fixed on each other, your clothes began decorating the bedroom floor leaving you both in your underwear. Your knees hit the edge of the bed, gently falling back, Wooyoung crawled up your body not wanting to miss a second of your touch. He lust-filled eyes stared deeply into yours, looking for any uncertainty, only to be matched with the same desire he felt. His lips traveled your body; from yours, to your jawline, your neck and shoulders. Anywhere he could reach, he placed butter soft kisses, suckling on the sensitive skins and molding small hickeys into it. Fingers began to fiddle with your bra straps, Wooyoung’s free hand traveling around your waist and to your back, lightly lifting you and unclasping the band in a swift motion. His eyes were glued on your tits the moment they bounced out of the lace bra, it being thrown to an unknown corner of the room. Without hesitation, his mouth connected to your nipple, harshly sucking and rolling his tongue over the bud. Teeth tearing at your bottom lip in an attempt to keep your moans hidden, unnecessarily worrying that others might hear — as if they could over the bass of the speakers. Not leaving the other unattended, Wooyoung circled your nipple between two fingers, pinching and lightly twisting, earning a small whine from you. As he continued his actions, you began letting yourself go, hushed moans falling through your lips. A sudden poking developed between your bodies, Wooyoung’s hard-on now prominently pushing into his boxers as he groped at any part of your body he could reach.

“You know,” He purred, petaling kisses from your chest and down to your belly, falling lower and lower until he sat between your legs. “I’ve always dreamt about this; how you’d look… how you’d feel… how you’d taste.”

A red blush began arising under your cheeks as Wooyoung watched you through hooded eyes, his fingers slipping beneath the band of your panties and dragging them down your thighs. Smirking proudly, he stared at the affects he’s had on you tonight, your body unable to hide the fact with your glistening folds. Lips brushing against the plush skin of your thighs, moving dangerously close to where you wanted them the most but always avoiding direct contact. Your hips subconsciously followed Wooyoung’s movement, a mocking chuckle answered as he watched you desperately aching for his touch. As much as he wanted to keep teasing you, he too was yearning for your touch. Whimpers instantaneously furnished the room the moment his tongue flicked over your clit, plump lips sucking deeply at the surrounding skin. Coating his muscle in your essence, Wooyoung drunkenly lapped and swirled at your delicate bud, alcohol not being the only intoxication in his system. You were sweeter than he could have ever imagined, honey incomparable to the syrup that spilled from you. His low groans vibrated through your body, a completely new sensation electrifying beneath your skin, a man had never made you feel this good before.

Your walls missed the absence of replete, hopelessly clenching around nothing. It was as if Wooyoung sensed it, immediately inserting a finger deep inside you, a second one quick to follow. Embracing his digits as they pumped in and out of you, lewd wet sounds sloshing over them, he began curling them and pressing on that delectable gummy spot.

“Woo- fuck… feels so good-” You cried out, hips starting to buck into him as the pressure built in your stomach. He gazed up at you, a smug smirk masking his face as he watched you begin to lose yourself beneath him.

Feeling your body lightly tense, his fingers began to plunge harder into you, still lavishing your clit with thirsty slurps. Your climax was creeping closer by the second, body slightly trembling around Wooyoung as he devoured you. Your moans heighten — almost as loud as the music — so close to the edge that the stimulation pained you. Fingers curled inside of you, your clit racing like your heartbeat, your orgasm crashed down on you in a tsunami. Wooyoung moaned gutturally into your core as he felt your arousal drip down his chin and coat his fingers like a glazed donut. He never thought he’d experience that from you, and he was savouring every moment. Hungrily guzzling every drop of honey, he got so caught up in his cravings that he couldn’t stop himself, leading you to a state of overstimulation. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, one escaping and sliding down your cheek. Another tidal wave crashed through your body, this one more painful and pleasurable than the last. Wooyoung followed you down from your second high, slowly his motions and removing his fingers from you. He watched as your essence slid down them, irresistibly pushing them through his lips and licking them dry.

Your chest rose and fell, fighting for the ability to breathe once more. Wooyoung moved back up your body, apologetic eyes looking into yours as he wiped the tear stain from your cheek, laying peppered kisses on your lips. The softness didn’t last long, escalating to the need to be inside you once more. His pleading eyes met yours, the message conveying quickly, his boxers being discarded even faster. His length flung out lightly hitting his abdomen, precum leaking from the reddened tip. Wasting no time, he slid the tip through your drenched folds, the sensitivity hitting you both and causing him to hiss lightly. Lining himself with you, he slowly pushed himself in, your walls stretching at his size and pulling him deeper, breaths hitching as he bottomed out. “Fuck love, you’re so warm.”

Creating a steady rhythm, he began to pump in and out of you at a painfully slow pace, the stretch causing an uncomfortable pleasure. Your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him into a burning kiss. Lips crashing together like thunder, lightning electrified between your lightly sweat coated bodies, a mixture of desperate moans and the sound of slapping skin surrounded the room in a warm atmosphere. He struggled to hold himself back, so desperate for you to cum around his dick. His movement started to quicken the moment your legs wrapped around his waist urging him closer, your bodies sticking together like glue. Hips started rutting immeasurably deeper into you, your cervix being bruised by the second. Moans singing in his ears, he lifted his gaze and watched your face contort in pleasure, eyebrows furrowing and eyes rolling as he bucked desperately into you. His eyes shifted between your face and where you were connected, infatuated by the view he believed he’d never get to see.

“Woo, I’m so close.” The pit in your stomach tightening once more, ready to explode.

“Ah- me too, love.” His raspy voice shattered in your brain.

As climaxes were building closer to the edge, his thrusts became uncoordinated and his kisses hopelessly messy. Feeling the pressure in your belly begin to burst, you bucked your hips upwards to match his movement, his cock hitting that sweet spongy spot . His hand squeezed between your bodies, fingers circling your clit with purpose and pushing your third orgasm to wash over you. Lewd moans and curses fell through your lips along with a song of Wooyoung’s name, your gummy walls tightening around him and milking him to his own orgasm. Sloppy uneven thrusts rode you through your high, Wooyoung growing more desperate to chase his own. A guttural groan vibrating through the room, white ropes of cum warmed your insides, filling you up and leaking out as his thrusts softened.

Falling from your highs, his body collapsed on top of yours, head burying itself into the crook of your neck. Your body wrapped around him like a koala, his length still deep inside you, twitching from sensitivity. Unmoving, both bodies were in no hurry to disconnect, sitting in the comfort silence, the smell of sex heavy in the air.

A few minutes passed by, both of you falling back into normal breathing patterns. Wooyoung peppered soft kisses on your neck and lifting his face to meet yours, his sleepy eyes adoringly staring into yours before connecting yours lips in a velvety kiss.

“Was that okay?” He asked, uncertainty lacing his voice. You had never seen him lack confidence in anything before, especially not sex and the way he constantly brags about how good he is in bed. Your opinion mattered more to him than anyone else’s, and to finally have you wrapped around him in more than a friendly movie night way, he needed reassurance.

Your hand cupped his face gently, a soft smile curling at the edge of your mouth. “It was perfect.”

A simpered smile appeared on his face before leaning back into your lips, delicate but filled with passion.

He slowly pulled himself off you, the cool hair grazing your tender core sending chills up your spine. Climbing off the bed, he walked into the bathroom without saying a word, seconds later reemerging with two glasses of water and some clean towels. Placing the water on the bedside table closest to you, he moved himself back between your legs, spreading your knees slightly as he began wiping away the mess you both made. The towel gently brushed over your folds causing you to wince from the sensitivity that lingered. The soft music from downstairs played in the background, you had completely forgotten that you were still at a party, but it wasn’t important to you.

Wooyoung discarded the towel across the room, it landing perfectly on the edge of the laundry basket. Once again crawling off the bed, he held his hand out for you, lifting you up. Your legs slightly trembled underneath you, your body feeling a sense of weakness.

“Let’s go take a shower, love.” Leading you to the bathroom, the water already running and a mist fogging through the room. There was no worries with you in this moment as you both stepped under the warm water, body’s tightly knit together in the small shower. You weren’t thinking about how this could affect your friendship once tomorrow came around, whether or not regret would overshadow the night. All your focus was on living in the current moment — on Wooyoung.

Tomorrow was in the back of your mind, without regret.

author's note hey darlings !! this is my first full fanfic, i hope its up to your expectations — it was a little rushed towards the end — if you enjoy it, i might make a part 2 ?? i think i might also make a san version since i mentioned hookups between them.

tag list @morethingsfandom @dreamsoffanfics @butterflydemons @youmeandwords @hwascutewife @e3ellie (people who reposted the teaser)

#written by planet hwa ༉‧₊˚✧#ateez #jung wooyoung #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fanfic

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teaboot · 4 months ago

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How do Canadian schools teach about indigenous Canadian history and culture? -a curious USAmerican

In my experience we learned about colonization at the same time as we learned about the formation of Canada. At first it was "European settlers came and pushed out the indigenous population", then in the higher grades we learned more about the how and the why.

For example, how carts full of men with rifles would ride around shooting Buffalo, then leaving the meat on the ground to rot, because "a dead Buffalo is a dead indian", which was so fanatical it almost wiped out wild Buffalo entirely

Also how Canadian settlers were lured in with beautiful hand-painted advertisements for cheap, beautiful, fertile land that was unpopulated and perfect, if only you'd sail over with your entire family and a pocket full of seeds- only to be met with scared, confused, and angry lawful inhabitants already run out of ten other places, and frigid winters, and rocky, forested, undeveloped dirt.

also, smallpox blankets, where "gifts" of blankets infected with smallpox were intentionally given out

And treaty violations- Either ignoring written agreements entirely, or buying them out at insanely low prices and lying about the value, or trading for farming equipment that they couldn't use because they weren't farmers.

Then in the first world war, where they told indigenous peoples here that they'd be granted Canadian citizenship if they enlisted

To Residential schools, which was straight up stealing kids for slavery, indoctrination, and medical experiments

But we also covered the building of the Canadian Railway in which Chinese immigrants were lowered into ravines with dynamite to blow out paths through the mountain for pennies on the dollar

And the Alberta Sterilization Act, where it was lawful and routine procedure to sterilize women of colour and neurodivergent people without their awareness or consent after giving birth or undergoing unrelated surgeries

But I'm rambling.

We kind of learned Aboriginal history at the same time as everything else? Like. This is when Canada was made, and this is how it was done. Now we'll read a book about someone who lived through it, and we'll write a book report. And now a documentary, and now a paper about the documentary. Onto the next unit.

And starting I think in grade 10 our English track was split between English and Aboriginals English, where you could choose to do the standard curriculum or do the same basic knowledge stuff with a focus on Aboriginal perspectives and literature. (I did that one, we read Three Day's Road and Diary Of A Part-Time Indian, and a few other titles I don't remember.)

There was also a lunch room for the Aboriginal Culture Studies where Aboriginal kids could hang out at lunch time if they wanted, full of art and projects and stuff. They'd play music or videos sometimes, that was cool

And one elective I took (not mandatory cirriculum) was a Kwakiutl course for basic Kwakwakaʼwakw language. Greetings, counting to a hundred, learning the modified alphabet, animals, etc. Still comes in handy sometimes at large gatherings cause they usually start with a land recognition thanking whoever's land we're on, with a few thanks and welcomes in their language.

And like- when I was in the US it was so weird, cause here we have Totem poles and longhouses and murals all over and yall... don't? Like there is a very distinct lack of Aboriginal art in your public spaces, at least in the areas I've been

My ex-stepfather, who was American, brought his son out once, and he was so excited to "see real indians" and was legitimately shocked to learn that there weren't many teepees to be found on the northwest coast, and was even *more* shocked when we told him that you have Aboriginal people back home too, bud. Your Aboriginal people are also named "Mike" snd "Vicky" and work as assistant manager at best buy.

If you'd ask me, I'd say that the primary difference is that USAmerica (from what I've seen, and ALSO in entirely too much of Canada) treats our European and Aboriginal conflicts as history, something that's tragic but over, like the extinction of the mammoths, instead of like. An ongoing thing involving people who are alive and numerous and right fucking here

But at the end of the day, I'm white, and there are plenty of actual Aboriginal people who are speaking out and saying much more meaningful things than I can

So I'm just gonna pass on a quote from my Stepmum, who's Cree, that's stuck with me since she said it:

"You see how they treat Mexicans in America? That's how they treat us here. Indians are the Mexicans of Canada."

#Canadian history #Canadian education #Medical tw #Medical malpractice #Human rights #Genocide tw #Residential school tw #Child abuse tw #Slavery tw #Current events #Canadian Education #Aboriginal history

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coquettepascal · 4 months ago

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purpose on earth

summary: joel loves to take, you love to give.

tags: 18+, smut, angst(ish), jackson era!joel, cold!joel, grumpy!joel, innocent!reader, dom!joel, implied age gap (reader doesn't remember pre-outbreak), corruption kink, joel takes your undies, humiliation, oral sex (m!receiving), allusion to thigh riding, a feeling of helpless/hopeless-ness permeates this fic, reader is pretty pathetic, use of "sweet girl", objectification of reader, unrequited obsession, this fic isn't necessarily sexy, just mildly sad.

a/n: i literally wrote this like an hour ago while i was supposed to be outlining my next project, but @hellishjoel told me to listen to my creative demons... so now this is being posted.

(1.1k, just a baby)

Nothing in this world has ever, or will ever, belong to you. Faint memories glaze your mind sometimes, when you lay down to rest. Not your own memories, but things you’ve read in books and seen in abandoned family photo albums. White wedding dresses, cars that drive, Sunday night family dinner. An American lifestyle that was sucked away with the cordyceps, something only they could clear out. The bombs the government used, the ones you can’t remember anymore, they never wiped mother earth clean the way she has done for herself.

She’s infected, and not yours. Nothing outside of Jackson’s walls belongs to your human hands.

You’ve never known ownership. The clothes you wear belonged to people before you, the ground you walk on cannot be sold. Maybe in another life this would feel fulfilling, but something in you wants to know what it is to own, or even fit in. Your skin, flushed and healthy, skin full of life and blood and organs. A heart that thumps in a world of disease, disorder, death. What a weird purity you hold, something you want to ruin.

A person like you isn’t meant to own anything here. It feels like you have to belong, if you wish to take.

He will do it for you.

Joel knows greed, remembers the world before. His hands have taken food, land, lives, anything you can imagine. It isn’t something you realistically think about, more infatuated with how he has the ability to do all these things. Not that you hadn’t committed your own sins, but to defend yourself isn’t wrong, at least that’s what he says. Something in Joel smolders the way only a primal fire can, he is from a world whose memory of a flame will extinguish soon.

He doesn’t help with any of your wants, your need to own or belong. But Joel shows you what it is to take.

You don’t understand the fascination he has with you. The memory of the night he first led you back to his house is blurry, a fleeting moment in comparison to what has happened since. There was conversation of music, of you having a tape you wish you could play.

His hands were slow when they slid your underwear down your legs, you hoped he wasn’t looking. Nothing about you felt sexy or womanly, you felt dwarfed when he was so close. Again, you wished you could belong, so maybe you could hide. There was a stain in the gusset and you remember how he pulled the garment off your ankles when it dangled there.

“Lemme see,” he had demanded, “lemme see what I did t’you.”

Joel had smeared his thumb through the sticky wet mark, huffing in surprise. He knew it was for him, knew there was nothing else that could have made you do that. Humiliated, you had tried to yank back your underwear, but he refused.

“S’mine now,” he laughed, cheeks rosy.

That was the first time Joel took from you.

Now you seek him, the ache for belonging in the world twisting to a yearning for him to take from you. If you could not belong to this world, if you could not fit, at least you could fulfill him. Joel doesn’t like it when you seek him out too often, hates when others notice it. You’re not his, never his, just a moment of gratification for his consuming greed.

Once, you waited in the early morning at the stables for him. Crouched near the barn door, you waited and watched the dewy grass grow. The crunch of his boots, the yawn he let out as he passed by you, it was enough. He said nothing to you, took off on his horse with some other man trailing behind him.

“Joel’s so responsible,” you thought to yourself, “he’ll need me later I bet.”

Of course, he did. You relished in the small victory of him stealing from you again. Purity leaks from you in the form of drool on your chin, when he pulls you off his cock. Joel’s thumbs push the spit back in your mouth and you suck it down willingly. Praise rumbles off his tongue and into your ears, a southern rhythm you find sanctuary in. Pushing his dick back into your mouth is all pleasure to him, but it’s a taste of greed for you.

“Sweet girl, that’s a good mouth f’me, ain’t it?” Joel asks, head tilting back.

He never takes his pants off, but he strips you naked. His eyes arguably take more than his hands ever will. The bob of his Adam's apple hypnotizes your eyes as you garble a response to his question. Scarcely do you make sense around Joel, or even speak. You don’t think you can remember the last time you held a proper conversation with him, he usually just waits for you to come around.

It all starts the same, standing on his porch and waiting until he opens the door.

“Missin’ me?” He asks every time.

Joel doesn’t miss you, he doesn’t need you. He just likes how much you give. But you miss him, as soon as he pushes you out into the cold again you miss him. His greed is your purpose.

And so with your purpose, you push yourself down to the base of him. The waterline of your eyes is welling up fast, distorting your vision of him. You blink up at him like he’ll look down, like you’re more than a mouth. You aren’t, not to him, but you get to admire him like this. The puff of his chest, the swell of his throat, and his hands when they come to rip you off him.

He never pulls your hair, just grasps your face in his worn-down palms and pushes you away before jerking himself onto your naked body.

“S’nice, you’re so nice t’me,” he grumbles.

Under the yellow light in Joel’s living room, you feel useful. You’re doing more than surviving in this world. You have a purpose, even if he seldom needs you. He uses the sleeves of his flannel to wipe away the tears that slide down your cheeks, still mumbling about how sweet you are. Naked, smattered in him, you smile. Glittery eyes meet his and he snorts.

“You were missin’ me, huh?” He teases.

Joel rubs his thumb across your cheek again, the closest thing you’ll get to his lips on you. In his post-orgasmic haze, he almost looks fond.

“He almost likes me,” your mind whispers, your stomach fluttering, “it’s almost like I belong.”

And once you’ve nodded in response to his question, messy mouthed and gazing at him, your purpose, he taps his thigh. Blood rushes to your head as you stand, crawling onto him.

In your obedient mind, you define your efforts for Joel as a purpose, but you think you can taste a hint of belonging each time he spreads your legs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader angst #tlou #pedro pascal

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soleilapproves · 2 months ago

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This is part 2 of the arranged marriage AU with Nanami where the two of you struggle with intimacy.

Part 3

You both learn to cuddle in this one. This is a bit long so grab some snacks and a warm blanket.

Masterlist

-•-

After that fateful night of receiving flowers from your husband (personally and not through his family for a proposal), you had start warming up to him. You found out that he enjoyed mundane things like reading, walking at the beach, and most of all, bread. He learned about a lot of your likes and dislikes too.

Gradually, you found that it was easier to make conversation with him while having dinner so the two of you started having all your meals together. You’d talk about your work and what unruly things your coworkers did to cross you and he’d add in his two cents about them being incompetent. The relationship started to feel more friendly. He was glad his wife was talking to him about something other than the weather!

He also had a new desk moved into his study so you could work alongside him rather than stay holed up in your room. Your desk was adjacent to his (so he could look up to stare at you whenever he wanted).

He started noticing all the little things about you, like the way you liked doing your hair, your favorite spot on the couch, what kind of music you’d hum while doing chores. He was slowly chipping away at the ice and was enjoying every minute of it.

To be loved is to be known. He didn’t know how to show you that he was becoming more and more interested in you without displaying physical touch or being afraid of saying something that you may not be comfortable with. So he’d buy you gifts and try to spend time with you as much as possible. His gifts would be simple yet meaningful, like a record player for your room so you could listen to all your favorite tunes and pilates equipment for your home gym because you had been talking about how you wanted to work out but without leaving the house.

Your heart wasn’t letting you rest either. You started making him lunch for work and would write random notes along with it. It could be a fun fact or a simple motivational message. He would always thank you for them (and save them in a little box he has in his office). Sometimes he’d ask you more about the fact and how you learned about it.

Everything felt stable. It was like living with a best friend.

Until one day, you both were sitting next to each other while watching a horror movie. Separate blankets of course, but you were close enough for your knees to touch while sitting criss cross. A particularly scary scene came up and you jumped, holding on to the sleeve of Nanami’s sweater. He was alarmed, not because you screamed in fear but because you held on to him for comfort! “Can I hold your bicep? I’m sorry, this is just a little too scary.”

He could simply nod. No words or thoughts could form when he felt the warmth of your body against his arm. Your breath would occasionally land on his chest from how you were unintentionally leaning on him and it was driving him insane. Normally things like this would give him sensory overload but with you? Gosh, was it a good feeling. He always thought that that men who bragged about being protective were strange and were trying to prove themselves for no reason but they weren’t wrong. Knowing that you felt safe with him made him feel like a true man. Like he could run into the sunset and scream his lungs out.

After the movie was over you were still shaken up. “Is everything alright?” He looked down at you. You still had his arm in your grip. “Um, no, I’m still a little freaked out from the movie which is weird cause I’m a grown adult. Why am I scared of such movies anyway?” You smack your hand on your forehead. “It’s alright. It was a little too scary than what I’m used to as well.” He then paused, as if, he wanted to say something but he couldn’t. You looked up at him expectantly. “Since you’re scared, would you… like to sleep in my room? And I’m saying this in the most respectful way possible.” He sheepishly smiled as he asked.

Sleep? In the same bed as Nanami? Scratch that, sleep in the same bed as your HUSBAND? Of course, especially when he has been so sweet with flowers, gifts, and even comforting you through a strange movie. “Yes, I’d like that very much.” You whispered. You were afraid that if you spoke any louder you’d be breaking your bubble of comfort with him. “Then, I’ll make the necessary preparations.” He immediately gets up to go straighten up his room (and switch on his diffuser).

By necessary preparations, you didn’t know that he meant getting you a separate blanket and having a divider of pillows between the two of you. This was the opposite of what you wanted. You were still scared and needed some sort of physical touch to be reassured that you weren’t going to be harmed.

“Nanami, are you awake?” You whispered into the dimly lit room. The moonlight through the window acted as a natural night lamp. “I’m up. Do you need anything?” He responded swiftly. “No, everything is great except for one thing.” You turn towards him and remove the pillow between your heads so can make eye contact. “When you suggested sleeping in the same bed I thought we’d be holding hands because I’m scared.”

“Oh.” Was all Nanami could muster up. You were tense. Did you ask for too much? Maybe you should’ve asked his permission before requesting for it. Consent is key. But all your thoughts are silenced when Nanami simply grabs your hand and pulls you close. “Th-Thanks.” Your heart was racing a mile a minute. Nothing really happened after that though. Pure silence engulfed the room again, except for the occasional rustling of the sheets while you moved around.

“Y/N?” Your husband broke the silence. You hummed in response. “Do you know how to cuddle?” What an odd request, not unwelcome but definitely strange as Nanami never really initiated any sort of physical touch with you. It was mostly you either accidentally touching him or squeezing his bicep before work. You were too scared to admit that you had never been in a relationship before. What would he think? He’s a handsome man, so there’s no way he had never been in a relationship before. Maybe he never cuddled with his exes. He did tell you that he used to be very particular about his personal space.

“Yeah, I do.” You said, your knowledge from reading romance novels was finally being used. “Can you teach me? You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” But you turned to your side so you could properly face him. You let go of his hand, missing the warmth provided by them. “I’ll teach you an easy one first. It’s called spooning. Since you’re a beginner, I’ll let you be the little spoon and I’ll be the bigger spoon.” Nanami snorted at your description. But obliged. “Alright, what does the little spoon do?”

You then instructed him to turn, making his back face you and then you wrapped your arms around him and leaned your forehead against his back. “So this is what spooning is. I think I’d much rather prefer being the big spoon. I want to be able to protect you from that ghost in the movie.” You giggle at his words and oblige. When his arms wrap around you, it feels as if everything has fallen into place. The world is in order and you both don’t need anyone else but each other.

Nanami is in ultimate peace with you in his arms. The warmth given to him by your body being pressed against him is a feeling like no other. It felt right. Like you two were meant to be all along. His heart raced at the thought of other cuddling positions. However, a sense of jealousy rose in him as he thought about who you might’ve experienced this with first. Alas, he can still make new memories with you so he comforts himself to sleep.

-•-

Reader and Nanami will kiss in the next one I PROMISE 😭

#jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami fluff #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu nanami

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dreamsteddie · 6 days ago

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The Other Bank

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This is a repost of something I worked on earlier in the year. It's one of my favorite concepts but it didn't get much traction so I thought I'd give her one more try!

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There is something so beautiful and melancholy about the idea of failed rockstar Eddie who was on the verge of being a major hit but ended up giving up his dreams because he didn't like who he was turning into.

Eddie who leaves Hawkins behind as quickly as he can and dedicates his entire life, every waking moment, to building up his music career. He sleeps on couches for years, staying with whoever will take him in for a night or two in exchange for a bump of coke or joint from the remains of his sizeable Reefer Kick stash. He carries everything he owns in the back of his trunk. Amp, wires, guitars, clothes, etc and basically converts it into a portable practice studio.

He plays every gig he can get his hands on. Playing as a last-minute substitute guitar or base for any band that calls, playing for pop bands and punk bands alike until he convinces enough people to join up with him and start a new metal band.

With the band comes more stability, for a while. They share a cramped two-bedroom among the five of them. Writing and jamming every day, going home to smoke up and decompress.

Just over four years after Eddie lands in the city, they play their first real show. A show at a respectable, if small, bar venue with people in the audience there to see them. People sing their songs and dance to their music. It's not sold out, not even close really, but it's the start of something big, they can all feel it. That night they go out to the club around the block with a couple of people who came to the show and party harder than Eddie ever has before. He wakes up with that distinctly fuzzy feeling the next morning that tells him he dipped into the harder drugs the night before, something he hasn't done since he learned his dad passed three years ago.

It scares him. He can't remember anything past walking into the club last night. He doesn't remember anything he did or said and desperately hopes he didn't do anything weird with a fan, but he brushes it off. Tells himself it was a one-time thing, a celebration of their success. They deserved to let loose, right?

Except it wasn't a one-time thing. In fact, it turns into an almost every night kind of thing, and as their fan base grows what feels like overnight, the parties grow in intensity with them. They play their hearts out on stage, eventually selling out all of the smaller local venues and moving on to the larger, more serious ones. The occasional disagreement over music between the band members turns into larger, more personal arguments. Eventually, they reach Fleetwood Mac Rumors Era levels of drama. Everyone is sleeping around, the drugs are out of control, and they can't hardly stand to be in the same room together anymore, only pulling it together enough to go on stage at the end of the day.

Eddie lives that handful of years in a daze. It can mostly be attributed to the copious amounts of alcohol he's turned to to cope with the stress, but he uses his fair share of snow to keep himself in the creative spirit too. It feels inevitable when he reaches a kind of low he doesn't know if he can come back from.

Eddie wasn't a saint, but he has always sworn off meth. It was the thing that killed his mom. He remembers the way she'd wasted away, the days when she seemed crazed, and how sorry she was to him when she stabilized. The regret in her eyes when she looked at him. But when he's asked if he wants a needle all he can think about is the prospect of spending the rest of his life stuck with this band full of people he can't stand and people who can't stand him if the record deal they've been negotiating goes through, and it feels like it will.

Thinks of what all his hard work will mean if it doesn't.

He says yes.

Wakes up the next day starfished in the alley of an apartment he doesn't recognize staring up at the little sliver of blue sky he can see between the fire escapes and weeps. He's become exactly the kind of person he never wanted to be, some asshole almost rich guy laying in a damp alleyway all alone with no real friends.

Eddie lies there for an hour just thinking. Trying to remember when the last time he called Wayne was. Thinking of all the girls he slept with when he probably shouldn't have, when they were both too fucked up to make the right choice. Thinks of his mom and dad.

Tries to remember the last time he made the world a better place to live in instead of contributing to the filth.

He gets up and leaves. Leaves it all behind. Gets in a taxi to take him to where his van is parked by the venue from last night. Frantically takes everything out of the back and leaves it on the street. The only things that remain are the few keepsakes he brought with him to the city and his acoustic, the one his mom left him and Wayne helped him paint. The amps, his sweetheart, and the performance wear all get dumped on the side of the road and then he's jumping into the front seat.

Hours of driving leads him back home to Hawkins Indiana, the one place he promised never to return. Hawkins has seen a boom in the last few years, it seems. More shops, a bigger main street. He even spots a proper cafe. It all feels less haunted than he remembers. More people, fewer familiar faces. The trailer park, though, looks almost the same as it did the day he left, right down to the sight of his uncle lounging on the porch, waiting patiently for whatever comes next the way he always has.

Wayne doesn't ask any questions, not right away. He just scoops his nephew up in his arms and holds him in the cool morning air. He always knew his nephew better than anyone else, never needed words to know when he needed his uncle to help hold up the weight of the world.

And that's how Eddie finds his way back home. It takes a while for him to feel well enough to face the world again. A mixture of detoxing and coming to terms with the feeling of starting back at the beginning, like the last six years of his life didn't even happen leaves him licking his wounds in his partially empty childhood bed. It looks the same way it did when he walked out the front door.

When he does come back to the world, he starts small. Stepping out on the porch to share a cup of coffee with his uncle feels like one of the hardest things he's ever done. Maybe the most important.

He's proven right when he steps out to find he's not the only guest his uncle is entertaining this morning. Another resident of the park has already claimed the second chair as his own.

Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington who never made it out of Hawkins but also never regretted it. Who's made a small, happy life for himself here in the trailer park after his parents kicked him out for good when he turned 20. Who works part-time under the table at Miller's Mechanic and collects disability checks for the lost leg and minor brain damage he got from a car accident at 21. Steve Harrington who keeps his uncle company and makes sure he has everything he needs, taking care of the other residents in the park to the best of his ability doing easy car maintenance, babysitting, or just offering company to the more lonely residents.

Steve is so different from the guy Eddie vaguely knew in high school that he might as well be a stranger. They all sit and talk together for the entire morning, laughing and sharing stories. Steve never asks about where he's been or why he's back and Eddie wishes he could tell Steve how much he appreciates it.

Before Steve heads back he asks if Eddie would like to come over after he gets back from his shift. Asks if he wants to drink a beer and watch a movie. Eddie is quick, maybe too quick judging by the sympathetic look Steve sends his way, to turn down the beer and scoop up the movie invitation like the precious thing it is. There's something about Steve that soothes his soul. An easy connection between them that Eddie hopes they both feel.

Steve kisses him that night, slow and easy like they've been doing it their whole lives. Like they didn't basically meet for the first time this morning. Like Eddie hasn't been in denial about his sexuality for his entire life. Eddie cries at the warmth it fills him with. Steve just cradles him by the cheeks and lets him. That night Eddie doesn't go back to Wayne's. He lets Steve drag him to bed and hold him close. Lets him tangle their legs together and breathe warm air into the crown of his head until morning.

Steve shows Eddie how to live a life without big dreams, a life without ambition but full of love and comfort. A life without plans but with the knowledge that every day, someone who loves you will kiss you when you wake up and hold you through the night.

#steddie #fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #dreamer speaks #cw drugs

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miwsolovely · 13 days ago

Text

—can you love me (like i love you?)

𝜗𝜚 — in which, red robin likes to shows up at your apartment for an irenic moment from the harsh lines of Gotham. he meets you and you meet him, all of him.

TIM DRAKE x CIVILIAN! GN!READER mild angst. reader pining over tim, vice versa if you squint. 3.8k. — this was so fun — requested

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked asphalt and blooming jasmine from the park nearby. You always found it comforting—an odd juxtaposition of Gotham’s grit and its rare moments of beauty. Tonight, however, it wasn’t the air that brought you solace. It was the quiet creak of boots landing on your fire escape.

You smiled before even turning to look. “You’re late,” You teased, peering over your shoulder at the figure perched outside your window.

“Got caught up,” Red Robin replied, his voice light but tinged with fatigue. He stepped into the room with a practiced ease, his cape swaying slightly as he entered. The mask didn’t hide much—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed from the weight of the night’s patrol.

“You okay?” You asked, setting down the tea you’d been preparing next to an additional mug, turning around to face him in the living room, ignoring the pressure of your island on your lower back.

It had become routine by now. After weeks of these impromptu visits, you’d learned his habits: the subtle signs of exhaustion, the occasional wince from a barely hidden injury.

“I’m fine,” He said, though the way he sank into your worn-out armchair betrayed him.

You sighed and let the warmth seep into your palms as you spun around and took a mug from the counter and handed it to him. He took it without argument, the warmth seeming to settle him as he leaned back. “Liar,” You quipped. His nose tensed when he lied.

It had started months ago, the first time he appeared outside your window like some wayward bird. You’d been startled, of course—who wouldn’t be? But he hadn’t come for trouble, just a quiet moment away from the chaos. And somehow, without ever planning to, you became part of his nightly routine.

The first few visits had been awkward. After all, how often does Gotham’s very own Red Robin show up uninvited? But over time, the strangeness faded. He was careful never to overstep, never to ask too many personal questions or reveal too much about himself. Instead, your conversations meandered—books, movies, music, even the weird quirks of Gotham’s neighborhoods.

It wasn’t just him who needed the company. You found yourself looking forward to his visits more than you cared to admit. He was steady, like the ticking of a clock in the background of your life, even if you only ever saw him at night.

Tonight felt different, though. He wasn’t as talkative as usual, his responses short and clipped. You watched him over the rim of your own mug, debating whether to press.

“Long night?” You ventured.

“Something like that,” He replied, staring out the window at the city below. “Some nights are harder than others.”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to pry, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that tugged at you. “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You’d make a good therapist.”

“I’m just nosy,” You said lightly, hoping to draw out more of that smile.

And for a moment, it worked. He chuckled softly, the sound like a warm ember in the cold.

“Thanks,” He said after a beat. “For this. For letting me . . . just be here.”

“You say that like you’re intruding.”

“Aren’t I?”

“No,” You said firmly. “You’re not.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need filling. You’d grown used to these quiet stretches, knowing that sometimes words weren’t enough to smooth over the rough edges of the night.

After a while, he stood, setting the empty mug on the counter. “I should get going,” He said, his voice softer now.

“Be safe out there,” You say, facing him on your place on your chair, the words automatic but heartfelt.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. Then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows as seamlessly as he’d arrived.

A foggy evening, after his patrol, he arrived later than usual. His uniform was damp, and he looked more worn than you’d ever seen him.

When his eyes met yours, you let out an amused huff, walking to the closet in the hallway to your room, grabbing a beige towel and making your way back to him. “Take a dip in the lake Red?” You teased, handing him the towel as he stepped closer to you.

“Something like that,” He said, echoing the same vague answer he always gave. Even with the mask, you could feel the dam that wanted to implode.

Your brows furrowed.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

He looked at you sharply, as if the words had hit a nerve. “I’m used to it,” He said after a pause, his voice low and guarded.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be.”

The room fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut.

“I don’t… I can’t risk that,” He said finally. “Letting people in. It’s complicated.”

“Life’s complicated,” Your countered. “But you don’t have to keep everyone at arm’s length. At least not me.”

He stared at you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. Then, as if breaking under the weight of his own defenses, he said, “I wish it were that simple.”

You didn’t bring it up again, sensing it was a line he wasn’t ready to cross. But the moment lingered, coloring every interaction that followed.

You’d open up to him. Though it wasn’t as reciprocated, you didn’t mind because he listened. Sometimes, when the night was soft, you two would talk about the random things that reminded you of each other, it was your favorite part of when he’d come to your apartment, relaxing in each others presence; it left a sapid taste in your mouth.

You’d talk to him about your life in Gotham University, talked to him about the enigma your heart palpitated for. How his voice made your smile bright and cheeks warm, how it rang though your mind constantly throughout the day, echoing off the walls and finding it’s way back to your heart, the devil that wouldn’t calm down.

You hadn’t realized that underneath the mask, he looked at you with a smile lining his eyes, his own devil pounding in his chest.

When asked if he knew of your feelings, your smiled turned bashful.

“He doesn’t even know my name, Red. I’m just a random with a crush.”

You’re not random, you’re mine. Is what he wanted to say, he wanted you to know who he is. Not the man with the mask — rather the man behind it.

He distanced himself from you at school because he thought that if he didn’t, you’d figure out he’s ‘Boy Wonder’ a bit too easy for his taste. He scares himself every night thinking about what would happen if you find out.

And then one night, he laughed.

Not just the quiet chuckle you’d heard before, but a full, unrestrained laugh that lit up his face. It was over something stupid—a poorly told joke you’d heard from a coworker. But the sound warmed you to your core, and for a moment, it reminded you of your enigma, Tim Drake.

How could someone do that? Look so familiar but unknown at the same time? Your eyes seeing one person, Red Robin: Gotham’s hero. But your heart seeing, hearing, feeling—

“Tim.”

The name left your lips in a whisper, your heart hammering in your chest. You hadn’t meant to say it. You weren’t even sure how you knew, but it was there—like a puzzle piece falling into place.

He froze, his entire body going rigid. “What did you say?”

“Tim,” Quieter this time, you repeated it. “That’s—”

He didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes confirmed it.

“I . . . I didn’t mean to—” You started, but he cut you off.

“How?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know,” You admitted. “I just . . . knew.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of what you’d just revealed.

Red Robin—Tim—he stepped back slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to read the truth there. You could feel the tension in the room, thick and unyielding, and for a moment you thought he might leave. But instead, he sighed, his shoulders slumping as though a great weight had finally pressed him down.

“I’ve been careful,” he said softly. “I’ve spent so long making sure you — no one could ever connect me to . . . to this.”

You didn’t know what to say, the gravity of his words grounding you to the spot. Finally, you managed, “I didn’t mean to—to figure it out! It’s not like I was trying. It just . . .”

He ran a hand through his hair, the motion uncharacteristically unguarded. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have let this go on for so long.”

“Don’t say that,” You pleaded, stepping closer. “I know you think you’re protecting yourself, or me, but you don’t have to do this alone, Tim.”

Hearing his name in your voice seemed to shake something loose in him. He looked at you, really looked at you, and the mask of Red Robin slipped away for just a moment. Beneath it was someone young, someone tired, someone who wanted to believe you. The enigma who became more familiar.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know how to turn it off, how to let someone in without putting them in danger.”

You reached out, your hand hovering just above his arm. “You already let me in,” You said quietly. “That’s why you kept—” You stop yourself. “—that’s why you keep coming back.” Your hand connects with the rough material of his suit and you wish you could feel his skin on yours.

He didn’t pull away. For a long moment, the two of you stood there, the sound of rain against the window the only noise in the room.

Finally, he spoke. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”

You shook your head, your throat tight. “Don’t decide that for me.”

The words seemed to hit him like a blow. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Instead, he turned his head, staring at the rain running down the window as though it could give him the answers he sought.

“I’ve thought about it,” You continued, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve thought about what it would mean. What it would mean to care about you —really care about you. Even though it was for Tim at first, there’s more to you and I want to care for you and everything that comes with it. And I’m still here. I’ll always be here Tim.”

That seemed to break him. He sank down onto the edge of the couch behind him, his head in his hands. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. What my life is like. The people I go up against—they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you to get to me.”

“And you don’t understand what you could mean to me,” You countered. You sit on the floor, right at his feet so you can lock eyes with him even though his domino mask hides them, you can still see the blue of his eyes you admire so much.

“I see the risks, Tim. I see them every night when you walk out that window, not knowing if you’ll come back. But I’m still here because I care about you. And you need to stop deciding what I can handle.”

He looked up at you then, the walls he’d so carefully constructed were crumbling, and you saw the man behind the vigilante.

“I care about you too,” He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than I should, and — and it scares the hell out of me.”

You rose from sitting criss-cross to your knees, resting your arms on his, you wanted to get impossibly closer, closing the gap between the two of you. “Then let’s be scared together.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and real, and for the first time, neither of you looked away. You didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if this thing between you could survive the dangers and secrets of his world. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

He reached for your hand, his touch tentative but warm. “This won’t be easy,” He warned you gently.

“I know,” You said, squeezing his hand. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in a long time, he smiled—not the practiced smile of Red Robin, but something softer, something real.

“I don’t deserve you,” He murmured.

“Maybe not,” You teased, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But you’ve got me anyway.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, the storm outside mirroring the quiet storm of emotions between you. And when he finally left that night, it wasn’t with the usual heaviness of his patrols.

This time, he carried a piece of you with him—and left a piece of himself behind.

©miwsolovely do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms . likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3

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totheblood · 1 year ago

Text

I WISH I NEVER MET YOU.

pairing: ex!ellie williams x reader

warnings: SUGGESTIVE mdni 18+... not sm*t but close... cursing, drinking, bitchy ellie

a/n: i love this song and was like wait... i need to write a fic based off of this song so i did that and i just love mean and spiteful ellie like... i apologize.. ai audios in the fic <3 reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 2.3k

"tryna forget the seven minutes we had in heaven."

The world was spinning.

Or that was what it felt like. The tequila you had downed earlier was now starting to mix with the joint you shared with Dina earlier on her front step. She had held the nearly finished stub in between her fingers and had her other hand tracing circles on the fleshy part of your thigh. It was all innocent as you laughed about the new job she had started and her weird coworker who had asked her out a few times. It was all innocent until she mentioned Ellie and how she said she was going to stop by later that night.

It wasn’t a party, but it wasn’t not a party. A few of your friends had gathered at Dina and Cora’s new place, a housewarming party done their way. Inside a few friends had gathered around a table playing some card game and taking shots, but you needed some fresh air and Dina had followed you. From out here you could hear the faint music coming from inside, and the streetlights made Dina’s skin look golden, but it was still early and you were already fairly drunk.

“She said she’s coming?” you confirmed, needing to double-check that Ellie agreed to be in the same room as you.

“Yeah,” Dina coughed, taking a deep hit of the joint, the end glowing yellow and orange, “Said she feels bad about not coming around anymore.”

“Right,” you scoffed, grabbing the joint from her and taking a deep hit, closing your eyes as you blew out the smoke.

“Can you not do that tonight?” Dina set her face up in a pout, eyes dramatically wide, “She’s finally getting over whatever this was and I just want us to be normal again.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you rolled your eyes, sitting up straighter, “I tried to talk to her but she didn’t want to. Not my fault.”

“But isn’t it?” Dina started. She knew she was crossing a boundary she shouldn’t, but she was also tipsy and exhausted from the standoff you and Ellie had.

She wasn’t wrong, it was technically your fault. Months ago you were at a party gathering just like this, twice as drunk as you were right now. Some idiot, probably Cora, had suggested playing 7 minutes in heaven, just like you all had done in high school. No one in the room was sober, therefore everyone agreed.

A circle was formed in the living room, everyone sitting with their legs criss-crossed on the floor, giggling and blushing like 10th graders. One couple had decided to sit it out and watch the game from the couch. Two seats to your left sat Ellie, hair pulled back into a loose bun and her face already a bright red. She never was your closest friend, but she was still someone you talked to often. You’d occasionally Facetime, send each other TikToks, and sit next to each other if the group went out for dinner. But you were not her best friend, and she definitely wasn’t yours.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t think about her often. She had this girlish charm that usually translated as awkwardness and she would always make jokes under her breath, just loud enough for only you to hear them. You didn’t notice how red she got whenever she made you laugh like she had just won the world’s biggest prize. But besides that, she was cute. Really cute, and perpetually single. The group would often make jokes asking why she never dated anyone, and she would just make some comment about how she was waiting for the ‘right one’. Her eyes would always flicker over to you when she said that.

But this night, when she spun the bottle and it landed on you she nearly choked. You looked up at her with your doe eyes, those fucking eyes, she thought, and she nearly lost it. Everyone was laughing, clapping, and hollering at the idea of the two of you being locked in a dim closet for 7 minutes.

“We don’t have to…” She started, preparing herself for rejection, “if you’re not comfortable.”

“Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?”

Click.

The door locked the two of you inside the tiny room. This close to you she could smell you. She could smell the liquor coming off of you in waves mixing with vanilla perfume. There was just enough light for her to make out your features, the tip of your nose, and the crease in between your eyebrows. From this close, she could see everything.

“So…” her voice faltered, nervousness seeping into her tone, “what do we do?”

“I think you’re supposed to kiss me,” you whispered back, your voice immediately sending a flood to her pants.

“Do you want me to?” She whispered back, eyes searching your face and landing on your lips. You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth, before nodding. Fuck. She took a shaky breath, her calloused fingers grazing the open skin of your waist. Her fingers were cold but your body ran hot, you were unsure if it was the alcohol or her having this effect on you. Her fingertips curled inwards, pulling you closer to her.

You were now chest to chest, both of you heavy breathing despite not having kissed yet. You were so close that she could feel your heartbeat and your tits. She gripped you a little bit harder causing you to groan. It was all so painfully slow, each movement dragged out. She dipped her head down, her lips now just hovering over yours making your eyelids flutter closed. You could feel her smile before she kissed you, as slow and languid as her movements were before.

Her lips were soft, tongue peeking through and grazing your teeth, urging them open. She was kissing your like her life depended on it. Your hands gripped at her neck, trying to pull her closer but she stumbled forward pushing you into the shelf.

“Fuck,” she breathed in between a wet kiss, “you okay?”

“Mhm,” You hummed. Her hand moved down now, ghosting your ass before giving it a light squeeze and lifting your thigh up so she could get even closer. If it kept going like this she was going to be inside of you within minutes. She pushed closer, her clothed cunt griding up against yours, causing you to gasp.

“Feel good?” She teased, now moving to kiss up your jaw when-

Click.

The two of you separated, hands smoothing out your clothes as the door opened. It was obvious what had happened, a little bruise had formed on your jaw where she had kissed, and she was now wearing lipstick she didn’t come to the party wearing.

That night you went home with her.

You shuddered thinking of that night, not knowing it was the beginning of the end. Whatever relationship you had with her was now ruined, and it was your fault. You spent nights crying over how much of your fault it was, but that wouldn’t change anything. You ended things, and Ellie wanted nothing to do with you now.

“I guess,” you shrugged, “but people break up every day Dina. People move on.”

It was Dina’s turn to scoff as she snatched the tiny joint back from you, “You don’t move on that easily when you’re in love with someone.”

“She was not in love with me,” you rolled your eyes again, your high making you feel anger more than anything now.

“Oh, so you’re just fucking stupid,” Dina deadpanned, taking another hit, giggling as you shoved her playfully.

“Oh, fuck you,” you laughed, trying to keep your real emotions at bay.

“Can’t,” she laughed, blowing smoke out her nose, “Ellie would probably murder me.”

The conversation wasn’t productive, but you didn’t want to be on the front step when Ellie arrived. You feared that if she saw you, she probably wouldn’t even come to the door, let alone inside. You honestly missed her, and you were beginning to forget what she even sounded like.

Thirty minutes had passed and you started nursing your third drink, playing beer pong in the backyard when you noticed a familiar sound. Her laugh, over everything, was the only thing you heard.

“Oh, um I have to use the bathroom,” you excused yourself running up the stairs and straight into the kitchen where Ellie was now alone, getting a drink from the fridge. She obviously didn’t see you come in, or thought you were Dina because she was speaking.

“You only bought Truly’s,” she scoffed from the fridge, “fucking lame.”

“Still better than a Four Loko,” you joked. You watched her pause, her whole body stiffening before standing up straight and closing the door. She stared at the refrigerator so she didn’t have to look at you. You watched her chest rise and fall as she took deep breaths.

“What do you want?” Her tone was much colder now, her voice icy and mean.

“Just wanted to say hi,” your voice was small, you hated yourself for it.

“Well, don’t,” she shook her head, turning to the counter now, the hard liquor lined up in front of her. She picked up vodka, bad choice.

“Can we just-” you stepped next to her, voice in a whisper loud enough she could hear. She tensed up as you stood close to her and you hated the position you were in.

“No, we can’t,” She shook her head, pulling a red solo cup from its place on the counter and pouring the vodka in the cup, “I told you I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“But-”

“No fucking ‘buts’. You don’t get everything you want, okay?” She looked at you now, her green eyes now accompanied by dark circles. Her freckles were more prominent with summer finally coming to an end. She looked tired, but still beautiful, “You’re so fucking selfish.”

“I’m selfish because I couldn’t date you?” You laughed bitterly, that third drink hitting you like a bag of bricks, “That’s real rich considering you’re the one who’s been an asshole to me because you can’t fuck me anymore.”

She looked pissed. Her hands gripped the sides of the counter as she looked down at it, trying to stop herself from doing what she wanted to. Instead, she downed the vodka, not even flinching.

“No one wants to fuck you,” she looked at you, eyes glossed over, “and you’re the one who dumped me over text like a fucking coward.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m an asshole to you because I want to make it perfectly clear I want nothing to do with you. I don’t want to fuck you, I don’t want to see you, and I definitely don’t want to hear any sob story about how you ‘couldn’t’ do it. You’re a pathetic loser who broke up with me over text on our 6 month anniversary.”

“Ellie,” a voice from behind you caused you both to turn around. You wiped at the tears rolling down your face, “What the fuck?”

It was Dina, standing with her arms crossed as she watched you two in disappointment. You ran off pushing past her and into the bathroom, crying pathetically on the toilet and blowing your nose in the toilet paper. Back in the kitchen Dina had approached Ellie, an eyebrow raised as if she was waiting for an answer.

“She just,” Ellie poured another cup, “she gets under my fucking skin, okay?”

“But talking to her like that?” She shook her head in shame, “What’s gotten into you?”

“She has!” Ellie replied, “That shit fucking hurt, okay? And I let her get away with it at first because I loved her but all she thinks is that I’m mad because I can’t fuck her. I’m over it.”

“She’s just saying that,” Dina’s voice was now more tender as she talked to Ellie, “she misses you and doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

“She doesn’t fucking miss me,” Ellie downed the second cup.

“You just tell yourself that because you wouldn’t know how to feel if it was true.”

“If she missed me she wouldn’t have done that,” Ellie sighed.

“Not everything is black and white,” Dina sighed looking to the side. “Just try to get over it before the trip. It’s a really big deal to Cora and I don’t want it to be a mess because you both are so miserable.”

“I don’t think I can come, D,” Ellie shook her head, fingers tapping on the counter, “Not like this, not with her.”

“Ellie, please don’t do this,” Dina held her shoulders, her eyes wide and sad. Ellie had a soft spot for Dina, which was the only reason she came to the housewarming party, but she was unsure of how much she would take before she snapped.

“Fine,” she sighed, “but I’ll be driving by myself. I’m not sitting in a two-hour-long car ride with her.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Dina squeezed Ellie tight, making her groan and attempt to push her off.

---

The trip came sooner than expected, the party being nearly a month ago. You drove down with Dina and Cora, singing Lana songs the whole drive. The Hamptons were quiet around this time and Cora (and her rich family) owned a vacation house out there on the water. You spent nearly every summer here, you, Dina, Cora, Ellie, Jesse, Faye, and Cora’s twin brother, Orion all crammed into their giant house. Except this time was different. This was the trip that Dina and Cora were going to announce their engagement.

No one knew yet, and Dina had wanted your little group of friends to be the first to know. A special intimate moment between the group and the place it had started. However, when you pulled up to the house, driving up the long driveway, you saw Ellie’s jeep parked out front with her and some girl leaning against the side of the car.

You all hopped out, but you stood to the side as you watched Dina and Cora hug Ellie and this new girl.

“Hey guys, I hope you don’t mind,” Ellie spoke, eyes drifting to yours for a moment before she smirked, “this is my girlfriend, June.”

Fuck.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

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eddiernunson · 5 months ago

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Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

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Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie, this chapter has some forced proximity, tension and uh oh feelings.

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type

Word Count: 3.7k (it’s the shortest one, I promise I’m so sorry 😭)

Chapter 2

The first thing you did when you got into Eddie Munson’s little red corvette was peel the window open, claiming you had just needed some fresh air. It was true, as his scent had choked you as soon as you sat down on the dark gray leather seats. It’s strangely intoxicating, an odd mix of smoke, woodsy, and pure man that has you wanting to take a big whiff like some little pervert.

Strangely even from the window of a rockstar’s corvette the little town looked no more glamorous than it did from your beat up car, the small town feel of it all suffocating as you fill with gratitude you managed to get out. He finally pulls in front of a three story apartment, white walls and balconies so small they make you claustrophobic.

“Uh, how are we supposed to fill this small car with all your uncle’s stuff?” You ask, peering into the backseat as you undo your seatbelt.

He smiles, his eyes momentarily switching between the backseat of the two door car and you. “My van is in the resident’s parking lot, it should have plenty of room to move stuff over.”

“So, donation, your place and your uncle’s place, I’m guessing?” You ask, walking a step behind him to the front door of the building.

“Pretty much. It just comes down to going through it which I know, will be a fucking pain.” He reaches your eyes, giving you a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

You didn’t have much of a choice.

“Not that you had much of a choice,” he adds as he opens the apartment door, a small bout of laughter filling the halls.

Okay, that was weird.

His uncle lived on the first floor in the corner room in a furnished spot, so all it came down to were the knicknacks he had collected over the years. You didn’t think that’d be so bad until you walked in, your eyes landing on wall to wall collections of mugs and hats and other tiny sentimental things.

“Pretty sure we’re going to end up donating most of the mugs, he doesn’t use them anyway, it’s the hats he’s been fighting tooth and nail for,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing a moving box you haven’t noticed from a stack in a pile against the wall.

“How’d those get here?”

“My assistant brought them with the van,” he explains, setting the box up. “He’s hanging out around town until we pack the van up.”

“Must be nice to have an assistant to take care of that shit,” you muse, your voice only the teeniest bit bitter about it.

He passes you the box, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “I’m aware it sounds pretentious. I only hired him when I kept losing track of which fucking thing I had to do next. Interview, show, interview, photo shoot…it was fucking never ending at times. Sometimes I needed a reminder to fucking eat.”

You grab the box from him, ignoring the twinge in your gut as you walk up to a bookshelf in the corner of the small living room containing many little things. You know time is of the essence, but you can’t help yourself, leaning over to analyze the display his uncle had created. There’s a photo in the center in a simple wooden frame, a gruff older man who you supposed would be Wayne standing arm in arm with Eddie, a much younger, freer Eddie, at least, standing outside in front of a forest area.

Eddie has his hand on his hip, squinting his eyes against the sun with his uncle's arm wrapped around his shoulder. If you’d looked closer, you’d see their reddened faces, blotchy from tears shed but both gritting their teeth for the picture.

“That was the day I left for LA,” you jump at his voice, holding your chest tightly as you turn to look around to face him.

He’s still across the apartment, wrapping the mugs and storing them in a tupperware box. “I have never seen him cry like that in my life. I was scared shitless.”

You avoid his stare, the starry eyed version of him something you’re not quite used to, something stirs deep in your gut that you find oddly unsettling.

In an attempt to ignore it you look closer at the knick knacks surrounding it, suddenly realizing it was just Corroded Coffin merch, tickets, and even demos. “These would be worth a pretty penny,” you turn over the tape in your hand, imagining a rough draft of Eddie’s untuned, inexperienced vocals. “To you, they must be priceless.”

“I could release them if I’d really wanted to, but the songs suck and my voice was even worse,” Eddie shrugs, still moving mugs into their different boxes. You notice how much fuller the one on the left is, Eddie making actual progress in comparison to your dilly-dallied snooping.

“I bet Wayne still wants this.” You sigh, placing the memorabilia gently in the cardboard box, admiring the faded ink from ticket stubs over twenty years ago. The following shelf had a full row of dark fantasy novels, every spine cracked to oblivion with yellowed crinkled pages. “Do you want these?”

Eddie looks over, absentmindedly wrapping a mug when he double, triple takes, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas. “Oh I thought he threw those away!”

Suddenly the scent of his cologne invades your nose again as he leans right next to you, grabbing at one of the books on the shelf with a giddy grin. “I used to reread these all the time.”

“Princesses needing rescuing in some odd faraway land?” You tease, turning the dark green book over in your hand.

“Usually with some kind of twist,” he hums, analyzing the back of his paperback as he squats his ass an inch over the floor. “Dragons being in cahoots, noble knights acting selfishly, evil kings turning out to be righteously good… there was always some sort of twist,” his narration turned dramatic as the sentence moved on, a story teller’s voice.

It reminded you of one specific fun fact. “Uncle Dustin said you were his dungeon master in high school, were these any inspiration?”

Eddie’s brows furrow deeply, jerking his head as swivels sharply upward. “Somehow it’d slipped my mind that you would know Dust.”

You nod absentmindedly, taking in the fantastical names in the description. Lysandra the princess, Eletha the fae, King Alistair… “Unfortunately.”

“Hmm,” he peeps, fluttering through the pages. “Aah, Sorceress Nyrinn teaching Lysandra basic magic, this takes me back.”

You smile down at him, how his dimples are deeply embedded in his cheeks and his front canines peek from behind that wide grin as he skims through his harlequin equivalent chock full of fantasy and adventure.

“Any of these girls you’ve ever fantasized about rescuing?” You tease him, starting to toss the books in a box labeled Eddie Home. He remains silent, even a pink tinge dusting his ears. “I was joking, sire.”

“Just keep packing,” he grumbles, tossing the book carelessly into your very organized box. “I’m gonna go take a quick smoke break.”

You find yourself fallen into an easy pattern, having figured out what Eddie’s looking to keep very early on. He’s even willing to go through the boxes that have been long stored at Wayne’s apartment, insisting they don’t need any dead weight, not in Wayne’s small sized room, and not lugged across a few state lines back in LA.

One of the boxes stored in Wayne’s closet seems like it was just thrown together until you realize they were all belongings of a teenage boy. A soft smile graces your face as you imagine Wayne unable to part with the little part of seventeen year old Eddie he still had with him, even if it’s his messy room thrown into a box.

You pick up a small shoe box, the items clunkily jumping about when you shake it. It’s only logical that the box should hold a few dozen player’s dice and painted figurines. The box’s heavy weight is largely contributed to by the worn out and outdated version of the player’s manual.

You take note of the sticky notes curled and faded peeking out of the pages, messy scrawl noting a page Eddie must’ve used for referral once or twice.

One set of dice had a familiar red and plank pattern, painted to look like his prized guitar. You smooth your thumb along the ridged paint, putting the box aside for Eddie despite the protests he will so obviously yelp out.

He deserves to be a bit more forgiving of that side of himself.

There were a handful of items you picked up and put aside for donation, a few old music tapes, a guitar string placement poster, until something catches your eye; a well loved classified notebook.

Now, you might’ve been wrong, but you always had the feeling that Eddie wasn’t too interested in his school work, all items from his locker having been tossed in the garbage the moment the last bell rang each year. As you tentatively open the book, you realize it was probably the one thing that kept him going back.

Each lined paper was filled with his messy scrawl, an intriguing combination of cursive and print, extensively detailed plans for his run as, so Dustin called him, a vindictive and tyrannical dungeon master. Across the scrawl were doodles, well shaded pencil drawings of creatures and classes alike. One page caught your eye towards the end, a full page of scattered doodles that seemed eerily familiar to you.

“Wow.” You look up to face Eddie leaned against the door frame with his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on the notebook in your hands. “I haven’t seen that in a while.”

You glance back down to the page and its doodles, still trying to make sense of where you could’ve seen it. As if plucked out of thin air, a song starts playing in your head and it clicks. “Hey you used these doodles on an album cover.”

He nods, watching your hands gently touch the graphite on the paper. “You could totally donate these to a rock and roll museum; they'd think it's dope.”

Eddie shakes his head, as if the idea was ridiculous. “No one wants to see my ratty old notebook filled with my dateless evenings. There’s not even a single lyric in there.”

“But this is on one of your albums, isn’t it?”

He nods, smiling softly at the abstract doodles before glancing up to you. “I don’t want it, I would never look at it. Take it, if you want.”

You were already tempted to steal it, the notebook having a scent that’s so specifically Eddie with an added elixir of teenage boy added to the mix making maybe your one true Kryptonite. “Whaaaaat? Why would I take it?”

“Steve said you’re a fan of our music, yeah?” You nod meekly, still tracing the graphite. “Well if not, it's going in the trash.”

You put it in your purse.

Since your father left that morning, so did the tether that kept your head on straight, any lingering ideas kept at bay as you kept a safe distance. It was gone.

Keeping a safe distance as an act of self discipline all but seemed moot when your dad offered your services, now stuck in a tiny apartment working around Eddie as his gentle voice hums to the music blasting through his phone.

Maybe a dress isn’t the best choice to wear for manual labor such as packing and moving boxes, the length obviously not long enough to cover the bright underwear. Maybe it's the little allowance you give yourself to indulge in defiance against your own rule. Regardless, it was safer to stay as far away as possible.

Fate proves herself to be a cruel mistress as you find yourself on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab something on a shelf you wondered why someone elderly had a shelf stored so high on the wall, and you smelt him before you felt him, reaching to the shelf’s level to grab it for you.

“Why the hell did he have a shelf this fuckin’ high for?” He huffs, tossing the hidden box onto the bed.

He steps away as fast as he came, leaving the room with a few boxes you had packed and ready. The moment clouds your brain, his strong torso completely against your back, his hot breath on your neck as he stepped away. What the hell?

Your heart pitter patters, your whole body frazzled while you put a few more boxes by the door.

As you’re leaning down to pick up another box you hear Eddie swear loudly down the hall in disgust. He uses the lord’s name in vain several times, rubbing his hand on his pants as his face twists up in utter revulsion when you peek out to see the culprit.

“Somethin’ gross? I don’t see anything wrong with this picture,” you comment, looking around his setting for what might have set him off.

“Don’t–” his hands fly up to prevent you from taking another step. His overly wide eyes and panicked state would usually have you laughing if you weren’t so curious to what could possibly send him into this frantic state of disgust. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

“Now I really do want to know,” you insist, still scanning the room.

“No. You don’t.” He shakes his head solemnly, his foot slowly shuffling slightly to his left. “Seriously.”

“Can I at least have a hint?” You plead, knowing the possibilities will drive you crazy all day.

“I just found a box of my old clothes,” Eddie starts, gesturing to a kaleidoscope of different shades of black with an occasional band font, unfolded as if thrown in a hurry.

He obviously is hinting towards something, but you need some more exposition. “...Ok?”

Eddie pauses to think, hands on his hips as he racks his brain for something. “Think of it this way. Think of the one item of clothing you don’t want to find under a teenage boy’s bed, twenty years later. Especially twenty years later.” He shudders again.

The one thing…oh. “Oh my god,” you giggle, hiding your obvious glee over his disgust behind your hand. “A…sock?”

Eddie nods slowly, nodding his head in what must be mortification. “Uh huh. I am burning this whole bucket of clothes that just–” he shudders, his left foot inching towards where you had to now guess what must be an absolutely petrified cum-sock lies, “marinated in it.”

A bout of laughter passes through your lips again, disguising the odd intrigue you found yourself in. You might be more perverted than even you initially realized.

No, put away the thought of inhaling in the 20-year-old musk–

“Hey, do you mind helping me with this box? It’s ridiculously heavy,” Eddie gestures down the hall to a tote seemingly filled to the brim with random shit, the sock supposedly tossed into the garbage by then.

“No problem.”

“You want me to walk backward?” He offers, reaching your eyes as you both bend over to grab at the awkward edges.

“Yeah that’d be great,” You cough, failing to ignore the cigarette on his breath just barely disguised by the mint.

Step by step you help him around the corners until you help lift the box into his van, refusing to allow yourself more than a singular moment lingering on how his arms bulge through the lift.

Wayne had a bedside table he hadn’t gone through, filled with momentums over the years. You grab one of the smaller boxes from the living room to hold them, wanting to take care of the things that Wayne had cared for. There were a few photos, Eddie in scattered years from an angsty teenager to a rowdy kid with a missing front tooth. It was obvious everything in his bedside would be moved back to Wayne, allowing him his precious memories of the boy he cared for.

Allotted between the table and the bed is a photo album, something you suspect is cover to cover filled with more photos until you get the glimpse of a brightly coloured pape, just a millisecond but enough to peak your curiosity.

By the second page you’re in tears, softly sniffling at messy scribblings with silly puns and elaborate doodles.

“Hey, when you get a sec–” Eddie stops mid-sentence, taking you in on the bare bed as you weepily turn a page. “You okay?”

“Oh,” you wipe away the tear that was shed, embarrassed. “I’m fine. It’s just— it’s so obvious he went through this a lot, some pages are worn out.”

“Let’s see,” he holds his hand out for the photo album, a drop of weight on the bed as he peers shoulder to shoulder with you as he reads over the pages in front of you. “Oh, wow.”

You put the book in his outstretched hands, watching his expression turn misty as well. The deceitful photo album is an album of father’s day cards, about twenty of them all lined in a row with Eddie’s well wishes in each one.

“I started sending them when I was 25,” he mumbles, his voice wet as he turns a page. “I figured since he raised me n’ all, he deserved the title and the recognition.”

“Seems like he felt honored,” you comment, watching page by page.

“I picked these cards out in less than a second but he puts them in a pressed fucking photo album,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Wayne is ridiculous. But he’s always been my biggest supporter.”

Impulsively, you nudge your chin on his shoulder affectionately, watching him flip through the last through the final few pages. You wondered if his vulnerability making you even crazier for him would be an isolated incident.

God sure had a sick sense of humor when he tied emotion and lust for women.

Turns out, you two work remarkably well together because by the time Eddie places the photo album in the box with a not so subtle sniffle, Wayne’s room, kitchen, and livingroom are all packed up and ready for distribution. The things going home with Eddie and to Wayne’s room are in the van stacked like tetris with your very ‘helpful’ commentary and the donations are piled up by the front door waiting for their collection.

The little red corvette has been sitting in the hot sun for a few hours by the time you’re back into it, ready for a night off your feet.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Eddie comments, taking a turn away from your house.

Your stomach growls at the mention of food, still only two slices of toast being the one thing used to sustain your appetite for the day. “I could definitely eat.”

“Good, I need to thank you for your help.”

You avoid his intense gaze from the corner of your eye, staring holes into your thighs. “It was nothing–”

“What’s your favourite spot in town?” Eddie seems to be ignoring your protests, meeting them with an exaggerated huff as if you were acting foolish.

“I don’t mind if you take me to the nearest one, Munson. I’m starving,” you insist, laughing at the manic shaking of his head.

“I’m not taking you anywhere except your favorite spot,” Eddie insists right back, without missing a beat.

No wonder he and Steve had managed to stay friends for so long, he matches your stubbornness step for step.

“Fine! Take me to Miss.Tina’s I haven’t had their burgers since I’ve been back,” you think back to their fully stacked burgers paired with their crinkle fries drizzled in mustard. You still haven’t been able to find a burger from a local restaurant near your campus that even rivals Miss.Tina’s recipe.

“Oh, I know you’re fucking with me,” Eddie laughs, taking the left turn at the traffic lights.

“Nope,” you inform him, shaking your head slowly. “It’s always been my favourite place in town.”

“Well call that dumb luck, because it’s my fuckin’ favourite place, too.”

“I take it back.”

You laugh at his deadpan, noting the new decor around the walls since the last time you’ve seen it.

“It’s not that bad.” It is, you’re just hoping he doesn’t leave because of the change.

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie deadpans, glancing around to the updated insides now turned into a hollow husk of a restaurant. At least, it certainly felt like the funeral march of your once beloved restaurant. “It’s a horrendous study in interior design. Who the hell paints the inside of a restaurant bright orange?”

“Ok, it’s that bad, but I just need a damn good burger.” You lead the way into the line, noting their updating point of sale. Last time you were there the employee had still been using a notepad, this time an iPad had been stationed on a stand.

The employee now wears some updated uniform barring the design, a bright smile on her face as she greets the two of you. Definitely not the deadened stare you were used to.

The mustard packet you received was a third of the size of what they used to be. It seems Miss.Tina’s has finally met empty corporate capitalism.

The decor might’ve changed, but the recipes remain as always untouched, a collective groan in satisfaction in your first bites in the tacky booth confirmation that Miss.Tina’s still fucks.

“If they change their recipe they are so screwed,” Eddie says exactly what you’re thinking between bites, wiping his face from the sauces that splatters his lips. As he wipes it off, you start to think of making out with him in the booth and lapping up and cleaning his messy face for him. Some real good messy make outs.

You nod, taking a sip from the large soda that must be at least 5 ounces smaller. “Oh, they’d shut down within the week.”

“This was one of the only few places where every group in Hawkins High could be seen, because they didn’t care when we loitered and Miss.Tina treated us like her own.” Eddie glances upward at a sign right by the table, NO LOITERING.

“That’s kind of really depressing,” you sigh, munching on your fry through a fucking wooden fork. “I am not sure I want these fries lathered in mustard enough to also add the taste of wood to it.”

“Plenty of wood has been tasted in these walls before,” Eddie smirks, raising his pierced brow when you choke on the following fry.

It’s like he prides himself on how he manages to make your brain short circuit so easily. Thankfully, years of being raised in the Harrington household has trained a keen sense of wit into you. “Judging on those princess books, Munson,” you take another sip, letting the beginning of your sentence settle in, “doesn’t seem like yours was one of them.”

The fry that bounced off your forehead the moment after was worth it, and the rosy pink that bloomed across his cheeks was even more so.

I have 99% done at this point I’m so excited for y’all to read it!!!

Main taglist: @arlxt @alastorssimp @mmunson86 @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

Taglist for Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him: @emxxblog @transparentenemypenguin @stylesxmunson @ali-r3n @mediocredreams @miaajaade @dreamerjj @prestinalove @pretty-pink-princess @alesiaaa @moonisu @love-anonymous-writer @marlena-marlena @bl1ssfulbaby @kellsck @rockmusiciscalming12 @eddie-munsonsbitch

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #older eddie munson x reader #older!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar! eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x you

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faustiantales · 5 months ago

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𝖆 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖕 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖛𝖗

Dark Descent: Info-kun X fem/afab!Reader

Twisted Truths: incest, dubcon, headcanon info-kun name, underaged sex, fingering, vaginal penetration

Synopsis: Kenzo's little sister sought his help for a VR game. Since the game she's playing is an 'immersive' visual novel romance, with his aid, the line between reality and fantasy blurred — as well as the line between siblings.

Shadows Lengthen: 2.6k words

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the computer monitor, casting an eerie light on [Y/n]'s focused face as she navigated through the virtual world of 'Amorous Abyss.' It was a game she'd heard whispers about, a visual novel rumored to be so immersive it was like living a second life. Her heart raced with excitement as she approached the moment she'd been eagerly awaiting for weeks.

[Y/n] had chosen her love interest carefully: Kai, the brooding, mysterious hero with a heart of gold hidden beneath layers of angst. His digital eyes seemed to gaze into hers, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. It was time for their relationship to take a steamy turn, and she was more than ready.

But there was a problem. The game's latest update included a feature she hadn't anticipated: a full-body immersion system that mimicked intimate contact with the characters. The game's description called it 'revolutionary,' but she knew she needed help to authenticate the experience.

Her thoughts drifted to her older brother, Kenzo. He was the closest person she had to a confidant, and she knew he'd be able to keep a secret. Plus, she'd caught him playing games with mature content before. He'd understand. She took a deep breath and picked up her phone, and the decision was made. Her thumbs danced across the screen as she composed a text message, her cheeks flushing with a mix of excitement and embarrassment.

"Niisama, I need to talk to you about something...it's kind of weird," she typed, hitting send before she could second-guess herself. The anticipation grew as she waited for his response, the game's romantic background music swelling around her.

The redhead's reply was swift. "What's up, [N/n]? You okay?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She knew that her brother was stuck on gadgets 24/7, though she never expected him to reply to her message this fast, especially when he deemed it 'insignificant'. Most of the time, he would just ignore her message or leave it on 'seen' when he's busy doing his shady dealings. Thankfully, this time, he seems free to acknowledge her.

"Can you come to my room? It's about this game I'm playing. I need some advice," she responded, pursing her lips in anticipation.

She heard his footsteps in the hallway, and a moment later, her bedroom door creaked open. Kenzo's face was a mix of curiosity and concern. Though the second emotion appeared only for a split second — by the time his narrowed, red orbs landed on her, intrigue and annoyance masked his features.

"What's going on?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

The girl swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her older brother's gaze on her. Kenzo was always a man of few words, but he had a knack for making his presence known. His arms were folded across his chest, and he waited for her to speak, his curiosity piqued by the urgency in her message.

"It's about the new VR game I got," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want to... experience it fully, but I need your help."

The bespectacled male raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes darted to the floor as she gathered her courage. Her older brother's gaze was heavy, but she knew she had to ask. So, with whatever little courage she had, she gathered everything and stared straight at her brother's ruby orbs, which were looking at her intensely, making her feel small and vulnerable.

"There's a... scene coming up, and I need a stand-in for the physical part. It's just for the game," she rushed out, hoping he'd understand.

Her brother's expression morphed from confusion to surprise and then, to her relief, to amusement. [Y/n] felt her heart leaped with hope, knowing that her brother would be willing to listen to her trivial concerns and give her the advice she needed.

"You want me to... help you with that?" He chuckled, his voice low.

She nodded, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. "Please, Niisama. It's important to me. I've never felt this way about a game before."

He studied her for a moment, his eyes softening as he stepped into the room. "Okay, but you have to explain everything to me."

With trembling hands, she demonstrated the VR setup, showing him the controllers and the headset. She explained the intimate scenes in detail, her voice growing softer with each word. Kenzo's smile faded, replaced by a look of understanding.

"Alright, I'll help you," he said finally, his voice a gentle rumble. "But only if you're sure this is what you want."

She nodded, a spark of excitement igniting in her chest. "I'm positive."

"Let's get this over with, then," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of something she couldn't quite place. The redhead took the headset from her, his eyes meeting hers.

As the headset slipped over her eyes, the real world faded away, and she was transported into the arms of Kai, her virtual lover. The sensations began to overwhelm her, and she reached out, her hand brushing against something warm and solid.

Her heart jumped up in her chest. It was Kenzo, standing next to her, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air. [Y/n] briefly removed the headset, looking at her redheaded older brother with an apologetic expression, which he only responded with an unreadable expression.

"Sorry," she murmured, her cheeks flushing even deeper. He snickered, his hand dropping to his side.

"No problem," he said, his voice thick with something she hadn't heard before—desire?

[Y/n] put on the headset once more and the VR game began to play out, and she felt the digital whispers of Kai's breath against her ear. Her body responded instinctively, her breath hitching in anticipation. Kenzo's hand found hers, and she squeezed it tightly as the scene grew more intense. The fabric of her pajamas felt rough against her skin, a stark contrast to the soft caresses she felt in the game.

The tension in the room grew palpable, the air thick with unspoken desires. It didn't take long for the siblings to move to the bed, mirroring the scenario played in the game. [Y/n] could feel her body reacting to the sensations, and she knew her brother could feel it too. His thumb began to trace circles on the back of her hand, sending shivers up her arm. Her heart raced in her chest, thudding like a bass in a dance club.

The moment arrived. Kai's digital hands began to undress her, and she felt Kenzo's own hands mimic the movements. His touch was gentle but firm, his skin warm and real against hers. The game's graphics were stunning, the fabric of her dress sliding away to reveal her naked body. She gasped as she felt her brother's hand cup her bare breast, his thumb brushing over her erect nipple.

The line between reality and the game blurred as she leaned into his touch. The VR world swirled around them, the only sounds were the sighs of the virtual lovers and their ragged breathing. Her body arched off the bed, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan as Kenzo's hand traveled lower, his fingers slipping under the waistband of her pajama bottoms.

The game's narrative grew more heated, and the girl felt her arousal mirror Kai's digital passion. Her brother's touch grew bolder, his fingers delving into her wetness, exploring her folds. She couldn't tell if the sensations were coming from the game or her brother's hand, but she didn't care. All she knew was that she wanted more.

Her hips began to move in time with the rhythm of his fingers, her body undulating like a wave in the sea of desire. The VR world melded with the physical one, and she could feel Kai's mouth on hers, his tongue probing deeply, as Kenzo's kissed her neck. It was as if the two men were one, their passion intertwined in a dance of flesh and pixels.

The climax built within her, a crescendo of pleasure that she'd never felt before. She threw her head back, her moans echoing through the headset. Her brother's other hand found her hip, holding her in place as he drove her closer to the edge. The room spun around her, a whirlwind of sensations that left her gasping for breath.

And then it hit her, the most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced, tearing through her like a tornado. She bucked against the redhead's hand, her body convulsing with pleasure. She could feel his arousal pressing against her leg, and she reached out, her hand wrapping around his hard length.

As the last waves of her climax subsided, she opened her eyes, the VR world fading away. Kenzo's eyes were dark with lust, and she knew at that moment that their relationship had shifted forever. The game had brought them together in a way she'd never dared to dream of.

But now, as she looked into his eyes, she knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in their lives—a chapter filled with passion, secrets, and a bond that was no longer purely familial. With trembling hands, she removed the headset, the cool air of the room a stark contrast to the sultry embrace of the virtual world.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire. Kenzo's eyes searched hers, the intensity of the moment weighing heavily on them both. He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek.

"Don't thank me," he murmured, his hand sliding from her hip to the back of her neck. "This is just the start."

Without another word, he claimed her mouth in a kiss that was every bit as passionate as the ones she'd shared with Kai in the game. His tongue danced with hers, the taste of him intoxicating. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before—real, raw, and all-consuming.

[Y/n]'s hand tightened around his shaft, her movements growing more confident as she felt him respond to her touch. She could feel his pulse racing through his veins, the beat matching the frantic rhythm of her own heart. His kiss grew deeper, more demanding, and she met him with equal fervor.

They broke apart, panting, their eyes locked. The air was charged with a tension that could have powered the city outside their window. He stepped closer, and she could feel the heat of his body against hers.

"We should..." she began, but he silenced her with another kiss.

Kenzo's hands slid down her body, peeling away her pajamas. Her skin was alive with sensation, every inch of her yearning for his touch. He paused, his eyes raking over her naked form with an appreciation that made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

"You're so perfect," he murmured, his voice a gruff whisper.

And then, with a hunger that was both terrifying and exhilarating, he removed his clothes, throwing them across the room like a sack of potatoes. His body was a sculpted masterpiece, a stark contrast to the softness of hers. [Y/n] could feel her own pulse hammering in her throat, her eyes wide with a mix of lust and awe. She could feel the heat of his arousal pressing against her, and she spread her legs, inviting him in.

Their bodies moved together in a dance as old as time, a dance of passion and need. Kenzo's kisses grew more urgent, his hands exploring every inch of her skin. He knew just where to touch her, just how to make her gasp and arch her back, her body a canvas for his desires.

And as they became one, the barrier between the game and reality shattered. The digital world of 'Amorous Abyss' faded away, replaced by the very real sensation of her brother inside her, his movements driving her towards another peak of pleasure. The lines blurred until she couldn't tell where the game ended and her new reality began.

"So this is what you truly meant by help, huh?" the redhead sneered, cleaning his glasses while thrusting into his little sister's tight hole without mercy.

[Y/n] nodded, unabashed, feeling the warmth spread through her body. Her cheeks were flushed with a perfect pink hue, her tresses damp with sweat and sticking to her forehead. She let out a couple of wanton mewls, her inhibition gone when her brother continued his relentless assault on her poor cunt.

Kenzo's strokes grew stronger, more demanding, as he watched his sister's body respond to his touch. He'd never seen her like this—so open, so vulnerable, so desperate for release. It was intoxicating, and he found himself getting lost in the moment, forgetting the taboo nature of their situation.

"Such a slut," he growled darkly, ruby eyes narrowing to a judging glare, his signature smirk adorning his lips. "But you're mine now, aren't you?"

[Y/n] nodded vigorously, unable to form coherent words as the pleasure built up within her. Her body was a symphony of sensations, each stroke of Kenzo's cock sending shockwaves of ecstasy through her core. She felt his grip on her hips tighten, his pace quickening as he approached his own climax.

But amidst the whirlwind of passion, a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered a warning. This was her brother, the person she'd grown up with, the one who'd protected her from monsters under the bed. Yet here they were, sharing the most intimate of moments. Would this change everything?

The question was forgotten as Kenzo's hand found her clit, his thumb rubbing it in perfect time with his thrusts. She threw her head back, crying out his name as the orgasm claimed her once again. The room was a blur of lights and sounds, their cries of pleasure melding together in a symphony of lust.

And when it was over, when they lay tangled in the sheets, their bodies slick with sweat, she knew that nothing would ever be the same again. They'd crossed a line, and there was no going back. But as she felt his heartbeat against her chest, she couldn't help but wonder if this was the start of something incredible, something that had been hidden within the pixels of a game all along.

Kenzo rolled onto his side, his arm draped around her waist, and she could feel his breath against her neck. His cock was still hard, still buried inside her, and she shivered with the aftershocks of pleasure. For a moment, they lay there in silence, the only sound the steady thump of their hearts.

"That was..." he began, his voice trailing off.

"Incredible," she finished for him, her breathing still ragged.

"Should we make this a regular thing?" he teased, humping his hardening cock against her entrance.

The sensation of his thickness sliding in and out of her was so real, so intense, that she could hardly believe she'd ever lived without it. [Y/n]'s eyes widened with surprise and a thrill of excitement, biting her lips to prevent a shameless moan from escaping her lips.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice breathy.

Kenzo leaned in, his eyes gleaming with sinister mischief. "You know what I mean. Every time you play that game, I'll be here, bringing those scenes to life. What do you say, little sis?"

The girl felt a rush of conflicting emotions—shock, arousal, and a hint of fear. But the excitement won out. She nodded, her voice a whisper. "Okay."

📜— Return to the Shadowed Archive

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fleckficgirl · 4 months ago

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Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 13

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: sex, age gap, language, violence, mental illness, assault

Word Count: 2651

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Arthur called immediately after you hung up the phone with Tina and Chantelle and asked you to meet him at City Central Station at noon.

“I have to go out to Long Island,” he said, a heavy undercurrent of apology in his voice. “And I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to come with me.”

“Sounds perfect,” you’d replied instantly.

Arthur laughed, surprised. “I, uh…well, I know it’s not very romantic. But it’s kind of an emergency and-”

“I’m there,” you said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Arthur said. He sounded tense, flustered. You wished you were in the same room with him so you could put his arms around him and calm him down. Comfort him with your body. Among other things.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Arthur assured you. “I’m not hurt or anything. I can explain everything to you on the train. I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be sorry, Arthur,” you stopped him. “I’m happy just to spend time with you. No matter what we’re doing.”

You heard Arthur pause, releasing a relieved-sounding sigh on the other end, his tone softening. “I…I couldn't stop thinking about you last night,” he confessed. “I think I even dreamed about you.”

“Really?” you felt an uncontrollable smile spread across your face. Only Arthur Fleck could make you smile like a complete loon.

“Sorry. Is that weird for me to tell you that?”

“No!” you blurted. “In fact, I dreamed about you!”

Arthur laughed. “You did? Last night?”

“Uh…not last night, exactly.” You felt your cheeks heating up and felt glad Arthur couldn't see you blush. “Earlier. Like…maybe after the first time I saw you?”

“That’s sweet, Y/N. Was it a nice dream?”

“It was…very nice.”

If only Arthur knew the true carnal nature of that first dream. You’d get around to telling him someday…hopefully sooner rather than later.

And now, one hour later, here you were: one hour standing on the train platform waiting for him.

You glanced around Gotham City Central Station at all the bustling people - still rushing, still hustling, still rat-racing on a Saturday morning. They were like hamsters on one big gigantic wheel in a cage called Gotham, and although you knew you were one of them, having a day off gave you a refreshed perspective: Exactly who was winning this race? Why did normal people have to work themselves into the ground just to scrape by?

It seemed the winners of this race had already been called a long time ago.

Among the noise, traffic and images vying for your attention all at the same time, you locked eyes with a poster of Thomas Wayne. You shook your head. He was on television all the time these days. People seemed to think Wayne could “fix” Gotham and wanted him to run for mayor.

To put it bluntly: you thought those people were delusional.

There was no denying Gotham was a broken place. But was the wealthy mogul Thomas Wayne really the one to fix it? How could he know what the people of this God-forsaken city needed to get back on their feet? How could someone born and raised with an endless supply of silver spoons in his mouth possibly relate to living on the fringes of society?

The crowd parted and Arthur appeared, holding a newspaper under his arm. He spotted you and smiled. You ran up to him and leapt into his arms. Arthur caught you, spun you, then dipped you over and kissed you. The two of you were living in your own musical fantasy in the middle of a dirty, overcrowded train station.

“I’m so sorry that this is our second date,”Arthur said as he lowered you to the ground. “I wanted to plan something more romantic…a walk in the park, or maybe a trip to the-”

“Arthur,” you stopped him. “Anytime we’re together is romantic. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now but here.”

He smiled shyly and gave you a tender kiss on the cheek.

The graze of his lips against you triggered a slew of wants. You wanted to kiss him again. Properly. In fact, you wanted to do a lot of things to him. The memory of the soft pull of Arthur’s lips against yours the night before had stirred within you like a fever since then - but you were worried that if you started, you wouldn't be able to stop. And there were too many people around. You’d have to behave yourself. At least for the time being.

“So where exactly on Long Island are we headed?” you asked. “And what’s this mystery mission you couldn’t tell me about on the phone?”

Arthur drew in a heavy breath. “It’s…look, I don’t want to sound crazy. I’m not sure if I believe it myself, but last night…”

He was interrupted by your train pulling loudly into the station.

“That’s the one we want,” he jerked his head towards it.

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed. “I just remembered, I didn’t buy a ticket!”

“Don’t worry,” Arthur fished into his jacket pocket and pulled out two small pieces of paper. “I got yours.”

After finding two empty seats together, you placed your hand on Arthur’s and listened. Listened as he told you everything: How his mother had been writing letters to Thomas Wayne (funny how you’d just been thinking about him…though to be fair, his smug face was plastered all over the city). How he hadn’t paid his mother’s compulsive letter-writing much mind. She was set in her ways and tended to overfocus on things that were of little to no consequence. And finally: how last night after coming home from your date, an unexpected burst of curiosity had cajoled him into reading one of her letters…

…in which his mother had disclosed something totally unexpected. Something shocking.

“Thomas Wayne?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows.

Arthur nodded.

“Your…father?”

You blinked. This was so out of left field, it had gone past left field and back to right again. You struggled to pick a reaction; there were so many coursing through your mind and heart. You could only imagine how Arthur was feeling.

“How did your mother even know him?” you asked, agog.

“She used to work for the Waynes. As their housekeeper. Just before I was born.”

You shook your head in stunned disbelief. “I have to say, I don’t know what to think. Do you believe her, Arthur?”

Arthur was silent for a moment, and you gave him space to find the words.

“At first I didn't, really. She hasn’t always been…the best at telling the truth. She thinks things are real that aren’t. I wonder sometimes if I get that from her.”

He unfolded the newspaper on his lap and began leafing through the pages.

“But now, when I look at pictures of him - and his pictures are everywhere - I can’t help but see a resemblance. Maybe it’s all in my head, I don’t know.”

Arthur landed on a picture of Wayne and his wife, gazing admiringly up at him as he waved to a crowd. He tore out the photo and creased back the edges so you both could see it more clearly.

“Do you think I look like him, Y/N?” Arthur asked.

“I don’t know…” You scoured the famous man’s face. The curve of his cheekbones, the arch of his eyebrows.

Like a bolt of lightning, it struck you.

“Shit, Arthur. I don’t know if I’m going crazy, but…now I do kind of see a resemblance!”

“I know,” Arthur said. “Now that I see it, I can’t stop seeing it.”

You peered in closer.

“But why wouldn’t she say anything until now?” you leaned back in your seat. “Why wait all these years?”

“She said she signed some papers promising she would keep it a secret. It was to protect me as their child, some big scandal coming out. But she said they loved each other. They just couldn’t be together.”

“Jesus,” you sat back in your seat. Through the window, the entire world seemed to blur as the train lurched away from the city. “What a fucking rollercoaster.”

“I have to go see him,” Arthur’s voice broke into your racing thoughts. “Talk to him face to face.”

“Of course,” you agreed. “Go to his house and confront him. It’s the only way to get to the bottom of this. ”

You’d been to Wayne Manor only once before: a field trip in the second grade at Burnley Elementary School. Over a decade later, all you recalled about the visit were the Waynes’ dobermans that barked at you and your classmates the entire time. Like you were intruders even though the Manor was a historical landmark with paid tours.

The Waynes were a piece of work.

“Come on,” you took Arthur’s hand as you exited the train station. There were no cabs around like in the Gotham, and the walk from the train station to Wayne Manor would take at least half an hour on foot.

Long Island was worlds apart from the city. Away from the endless, screeching roar of Gotham, you could actually hear yourself think.

You and Arthur made your way down the tree-lined roads. It was autumn and the leaves were beginning to turn gold and fall to the ground. You liked how Arthur made a point to always walk on the outside of the sidewalk, creating a buffer between yourself and the street. Maybe his mother was crazy, but there was no denying she had raised a gentleman.

Arthur seemed to relish holding your hand, the sound of dry leaves crunching beneath your feet.

“So what was that dream you had about me?” you asked playfully, giving his hand a light squeeze. You looked over to see his cheeks flush. His shy smile swept you off your feet.

“Oh,” Arthur gave a small laugh. “I dreamed you were onstage with me.”

“Doing your comedy act?” you giggled. “Like a singing, dancing comedic duo?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “I mean yes. Kind of. We were singing and dancing together. I was in my red suit and you were…”

He paused. You shot him a quizzical look.

“I was what?” you prodded.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“What was I, naked or something?”

“No,” he shook his head. His face was even cuter (if such a thing was possible) when it was all embarrassed and flushed.

“You were wearing your Snow White costume.”

Not the answer you’d expected. You let out a laugh.

“I guess that makes sense,” you conceded. “Given you’ve seen me in it at the children’s hospital.”

“It’s not just that,” Arthur confessed as you walked along. “It’s because…well, I didn’t tell you this at the time because I thought it would be weird. But Snow White was the first movie I ever saw in the movie theater.”

“That’s not so strange,” you replied. “It’s a classic, after all.”

“Well…she was also my first love. Snow White, I mean. I saw her up there on the screen and I fell in love with her.”

Now you were blushing. And as stupid as it was, you also felt a pang of jealousy course through you. Yes, you were jealous of a cartoon princess Arthur’d been infatuated with as a child. It was beyond ridiculous, but the truth was: hearing Arthur loved anyone besides you made your heart pound with envy. You just hoped he still didn’t have a thing for her.

“You know…” Arthur’s voice broke into your racing thoughts. “I hope this isn't weird of me to say, but…I'm honestly surprised you would ever be interested in someone like me.”

You stopped in your tracks. Was he trying to give you the brush off? Tell you he was still in love with a childhood celluloid dream? Your heart was jumping up and down, side to side. You couldn’t imagine going on without him in your life.

“What makes you say that?” you asked, measured tone and breath, trying specifically not to sound as psycho as you really felt.

Arthur shrugged. “I’m…older than you, I live with my mother. I have no money. And you…”

You wanted to protest everything he was saying, but reminded yourself to wait patiently for him to complete the thought.

“...you’re a college student.”

“I was a college student,” you corrected him.

“You deserve to live in a beautiful place like this,” Arthur said, gesturing at the verdant surroundings. “Someone who can give you that.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” you blurted. You could feel another episode coming on and as much as you trusted Arthur, you really didn’t want to lose it in front of him again. You especially didn’t want to lose it because he was dumping you. And on Long Island, no less. Crazy behavior was normal in Gotham, but here they’d have you arrested for so much as a shriek here.

“No!” he shook his head immediately. “Not at all. I just…don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping you from a better life. You know I have all these problems…”

You breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wasn’t breaking up with you. He was just concerned, thoughtful, putting your needs ahead of his.

It only made your feelings deepen for him even more.

“Does it bother you?” Arthur asked. “That I’m older than you?”

“No,” you replied. “Does it bother you? Have you ever been with someone younger?”

Arthur pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and shook one loose, bringing it to his mouth as he fished around his other pocket for a lighter.

“I haven’t really dated at all,” he said with an embarrassed wince. “I’m not someone most people would…ever be interested in.”

“That’s not true,” you said, still reeling from the shock that this beautiful, sweet, tender man had never dated. Though to be fair, knowing he’d loved anyone else would have triggered more jealousy. At the same time, you couldn’t wrap your head around how no one could see how amazing he was.

“I’ve never dated, either, Arthur,” you pointed out.

“But that makes sense. You're a lot younger than I am.”

You grinned slightly. “Have you been doing the math? How much?”

Arthur inhaled the first drag of his cigarette, and it billowed out into the clean Long Island air.

“You told me what year you graduated last night. If I’d stayed in school, I would have graduated in 1964. Which means I'm fifteen years older than you. It took me a second to do the math. That was never my strong subject. None of them were.”

You shook your head, then suddenly found yourself laughing. “Actually…”

Arthur looked up at you with big, worried eyes. “Yes?”

“I like that you’re older than me,” you confessed.

“You do?”

“Is that weird?” Now you felt a little embarrassed. You didn’t want Arthur to think you were a freak, but you were just being honest. “I don't like guys my age.”

“You didn't meet anyone you liked at school? I'd think lots of guys would be interested in you.”

“‘Interested’ is a relative term,” you scoffed bitterly. “The guys at Gotham U are…let's just say a lot of them are book smart. And come from rich families. But they act like fucking animals.”

Arthur frowned. “Animals? How do you mean?”

You shook your head. “I'll tell you about it some other time.”

Arthur nodded respectfully.

“The truth is, Arthur,” you continued. “I never liked anybody that way…until I met you.”

Arthur smiled at the ground as you plodded along in sync, then silently took your hand.

“I feel the same way about you,” he said. “When we’re together, it just…feels right.”

“I know,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. “So many things in my life haven’t felt right…haven't been right. But this does. And if it feels right, nothing else matters.”

💕💕 If you enjoy my writing and find it valuable, please consider leaving a tip to support my work. Thank you! @ghastella xx 💕💕

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scudslut · 1 year ago

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A New Years Surprise 🎀

daryl x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, poorly written smut, oral (fem-receiving), unprotected p in v, porn with some plot lol

a/n: i know i’m a little late but happy new years everyone!:) thought i’d start off on the right foot this year with some Daryl lovin<3 also don’t mind my writing i’m just getting back into it so i’m a bit rusty:/

“God, you’re such a dumbass,” you muttered to yourself, cringing at the reflection staring back at you.

Currently, you were a mess.

Tonight was Alexandria’s supposed ‘New Years Eve’ celebration, like we actually had anything to celebrate or look forward to.

There were always those few people you’d come across over the years, that had somehow managed to keep track of the time passed and as it turns out, Alexandria’s people were very serious when it came to sticking to the old worlds holidays and traditions.

Hell, they’d host parties and backyard shindigs on a regular bases, no prompt needed.

It was bizarre, and even after a full year living here, you still weren’t used to it.

Deep down, a small sliver of you agreed that it was something special about this place. That it somehow kept the hopeful humanity glimmering inside the residents. But the larger, much more sceptical side of you, couldn’t help but notice the flaws of the idea and the dangers of false hope.

Or maybe it was just because you looked fucking ridiculous trying to play dress up.

Either way, you hated the celebrations.

This one in particular though, caught you off guard.

You hadn’t payed much attention to New Years before the world ended, and just assumed that would be the same now; but when you caught wind of the party, you felt your stomach bubble in excitement.

And for one reason only.

Daryl.

You knew Daryl was an absolute sucker for dainty dresses and lingerie and you hadn’t ever gotten the chance to wear something like that for him. But a few days prior, you had stumbled across a small shopping mall on run and found this adorable matching light pink set and had to stuff it away in case the opportunity to surprise him presented itself.

Well, here it was.

And man was that excitement rapidly turning into a full blown panic attack.

Running your fingers through your hair haphazardly, you studied your appearance in the mirror.

You’d only so far put on the lingerie and a small black skirt and you already felt confined and self conscious. The straps weren’t sitting right, the cups of your bra were too big, causing weird awkward gaps.

Sighing, you close your eyes in defeat, resting your head in your hands.

This was just awful.

You could already hear the beginnings of the party going, music and laughter flowing in through your slightly cracked window and it only caused you to sink further into yourself.

You felt your mind slip into your self deprecating thoughts as you began to tune out the world around you, missing the soft creaks of footsteps on the wooden floored hallway.

The door of your shared room was wide open, as it was only the two of you that occupied the small house.

Daryl took you in for a moment, leaning against the doorframe observing your defeated aura silently.

He immediately knew what was bothering you, he could read you like a book at this point. He crept up behind you, gently touching your shoulder as to not frighten you from your thoughts.

Jumping slightly, your eyes flew open and landed on those deep familiar blue ones you adored, staring back at you through the mirror.

His natural scent caught your nose and your body subconsciously began to ease, slumping back into his chest.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you home so early,” you whisper to him as you notice his eyes drift down your body.

You wrap your arms around yourself, not wanting him to see your failed attempt at a surprise and be disappointed.

You should have known he’d be quicker than you.

“Not so fast, baby,” he says, catching your arms before they can fully shield your torso from him and twisted you around to face him.

“It’s nothing, really Daryl, I-I don’t even know what I was thinking,” you mumble feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

That’s when you notice the dark, lustful glimmer in his eyes and awed expression clear as day on his features.

Oh. He likes it.

Heat pooled in your stomach.

Daryl bunches the fabric of your dainty skirt in his hand contemplatively, drawing it up ever so slowly and tucking it into the waist band to keep you exposed.

You could feel his eyes wander your skin, like soft breathy kisses, from finger tips to the dip of your collar bones.

Your breathe catches as you feel the faintest pressure on your dripping cunt.

“This all fer me?” He whispers, slowly sliding his middle finger from the wet patch on your panties to the tiny pink bow at the hem.

He finger dips into the waist when he doesn’t hear your response, and snaps it back against your skin.

“Y-yes Dar,” you gasp.

Of course it was for him, you were his and he damn well knew that, but he simply couldn’t help himself from asking time to time.

He continued to toy with the bow thoughtfully, letting his finger tips graze over the sensitive skin there. Over your hip bones, stomach, and down to your inner thighs, never allowing too much pressure so it felt like soft tickles.

He enjoyed to watch you pant and writhe. Liked the way your skin would erupt in goosebumps every place he touched.

He was a hunter after all.

He could spend hours playing with every detail of you, work you up until you have tears welling in your eyes and your cunt was practically pulsing.

Though you’d beg and plead for him to stop, to give you what you need, he knew you loved it.

And so did he.

Daryl Dixon was a tease.

“Wanted to surprise you after the party,” you manage to squeak out and his gaze finally meets yours.

“Did ya now?” he mocks, walking you backwards till the back of your knees hit the bed and you take a seat at the edge. He looms over you, thumb grazing your bottom lip and you simply nod back at him.

“Well, ya can be certain there ain’t gonna be no party anymore,” he growls, staring you down like you had offended him somehow.

He harshly grips your hips, pulling them till your ass was practically hanging off the edge and drops down to his knees before you, spreading your legs to make room for himself.

All you can do is watch him, mouth parted open as he manhandles you however he pleases.

“And where did ya find somethin’ so pretty, hm?” he questions gruffly, once again rubbing his thumb over the wet patch forming on your panties.

You lean back on your arms, dropping your chin to watch his movements.

“I-uh, on a run the other day,” you huff, your words stuttering in excitement and anticipation.

Daryl only hums in response, as he dips his fingers and pulls them to the side, exposing you fully to him.

He barely gives you a second to register his actions before he’s dropping his head between your thighs, licking a long strip across your soaked cunt.

Your body jolts in surprised pleasure, your right hand flying to grip his soft brown locks as he laps at your clit.

Moaning loudly, your hips rock into him as he continues to lick and suck, lost in the taste of you.

“Oh god,” you whimper. Your arms are shaking behind you, ready to give out any second as you watch Daryl devour you like you were his last meal on earth.

He always looked so damn pretty, eyes closed and entrapped between your thighs.

He lifts his head, groaning at the sight of you and begins trailing kisses over your hips and down your inner thighs.

“Sweet girl,” he mumbles between kisses, “always thinkin’ bout me, huh?”

Your eyes roll back as you sink to your elbows, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“Asked you a question, baby,” he nips at your skin causing a soft sting.

“Always Dar,” you pant, rolling your hips into him again. Your body was pulsing with lust and Daryl could sense how needy you were for him, like it had been weeks without his touch and honestly, it felt like that for him too.

He was about ready to cum in his jeans at the sight of you alone. Legs spread for him, pupils blown wide while you panted and moaned noisily just for him to hear.

Trailing his lips back up, he grips your waist stilling your movements, “What do ya need from me, hm?”

Your mind blanks for a moment, surprised by his uncharacteristic generosity. He was never this quick to give you what you need, always wanting to drag your pleasure for miles and miles until each pretty sound you could possibly make filled his ears.

“Come on now, or do you want me to decide for ya?” he asks again and you quickly shake your head, grabbing him by the shoulders and scooting back until you both were at the top of the bed.

As he lands above you, arms on each side of your head, you finally feel him and how hard he already was.

Rocking into him suggestively, “You know what I need,” you whisper.

Daryl groans from the friction, dropping his head to your shoulder and rutting into you further, chasing your movements.

You hadn’t seen him this worked up and responsive in a long time, and god were you loving it.

You pull his head up to face you and crash your lips onto his, hands finding his belt trying to discard him of it as fast as you possibly can. Daryl’s a panting mess above you, “Baby are you tryna kill me?” he groans when he feels your hands brush against his cock as you attempt to rid him of his jeans.

All you can do is whimper into his mouth as you struggle, and he kicks them down and off the bed.

He grabs you hands and pulls them above you, pinning them down as he begins to attack your neck with bites and kisses.

“Please Dar,” you whine, “need you now.”

“I know baby, I know,” he coos, attempting to soothe you as he draws your skirt and panties down your legs.

You begin tearing at his vest, needing to feel him closer to you, as close as he could possibly get. You feel him chuckle against you, “So eager for me, are ya?” as he lines himself up with your aching core, teasing you even more.

Taking him by surprise, you crush his hips into yours, filling yourself to the hilt all at once. You gasp from from the mixture of pain and pleasure, as Daryl all but whines into your mouth.

“Oh shit, fuck me,” he groans as he begins to slam into you at a bruising pace. You claw at his shoulders, rocking your hips to match his fast movements.

“Just love this cock, don’t ya?” he grunts, lifting one of your legs around his waist to drive into you even deeper.

You felt your brain cloud over, unable to think about anything other than him, drunker on his cock than you’d been from any night of drinking you’d partaken to in the past.

“Don’t go dumb on me now, darling. What did I ask ya?” he repeats, slowing his hips to sensual rolls, so it only stroked that cord in your stomach but kept it from building any further.

“God yes,” you moan, matching his slow but absolutely delicious pace.

Daryl is a groaning mess in your ears as your bodies dance a synchronized rhythm together, moulding into each other like pieces of a puzzle.

His hand snakes between you two, finding your clit easily and he begins to stroke you gently, allowing the fire in your abdomen to build rapidly.

“Oh Dar,” you moan and Daryl only picks up the pace, chasing after his own high to experience with you. Your clutching to him for dear life as he pounds into you quickly, grunting and groaning quiet praises about how good you feel.

You can tell he’s close when his hips start to stutter and shake, losing his rhythm slightly and you finally feel the cord break.

Your body floods with ecstasy, cunt pulsing around him causing his high to come crashing over him with you. Waves of pleasure wash over you as you both come down, his hips slowing to a stop.

He rests his forehead down to yours while the both of you struggle to catch your breath. You feel Daryl start to chuckle against you and your eyes lazily drift open, “What?” you mumble, running your fingers slowly down his back.

“Never was a big fan of surprises before, but ya can bet your ass I am now.”

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