#drag & drop

[spookwyrdie]

Riled Up.

{part 1}{part 2}{part3}

Bang Chan x Reader x Han Jisung

word count: 2.5k

summary: After your little performance on the dance floor with Jisung, Chan pulls you into a limo to teach you a lesson and remind you who's in control. Just as he's about to make you scream, his phone rings. Seems like someone wants to be in the audience for this.

genre: smut, power play

warnings: adult dialogue, explicit sexual content, dom/sub dynamics, jealousy, phone sex, cunnilingus, oral sex [f receiving], edging, dacryphilia, some bratting if you squint

a/n: I got super excited to share this part, so here it is! Pt 3 is in the works rn and might take a little bit, please be patient for that one!

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

Chan grabs your elbow and steers you off the dance floor and towards the exit. You watch his jaw clench, sending a ripple of desire through you as he drags you out of the club. You can feel how wet you are between your legs, thighs slick with arousal from dancing with Jisung. You’re so amped up from the anticipation and he hasn’t even touched you yet.  

Once outside, he opens the door to the vehicle you arrived in - a stretch limo with the blacked-out windows. He gestures to you to slide in first, his eyes fierce with hunger. As you step in front of him, he lands a firm smack on your ass. You keen from the impact as it jolts through you, another gush of arousal drips out of you as you clench around nothing. Your dress rides up your thighs as you slide into the car, Chan quickly following behind you and slamming the door shut. 

“Roll up the partition and take the long way back. The very long way back,” he says to the driver. The man nods as the opaque screen between the driver’s cab and the rest of the limo rolls up. 

Chan’s eyes meet yours as he turns to you, leaning in until he’s a breath away. “Did you have your fun out there tonight?” 

You bat your eyelashes at him, “Of course. Ji’s a great dancer, don’t you think?” 

“I think you were putting on a show to get my attention.” 

“Maybe... Did it work?” you ask, looking at him with a doe eyed innocence. He’s not falling for it, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek.  

“I don’t know, did it?” he grits out, taking your hand and placing it over the firm bulge in his pants. You salivate as you palm him through his pants, and he hums at the touch. You’re about to wrap your fingers around him when he snatches your wrist and pulls you close to him. 

“I think I need to remind you exactly who you belong to.” 

His plush lips crash against yours and you sink into his embrace. He tangles his hands into your hair and grips hard. Your jaw drops open as you moan at the harsh touch; Chan takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pressing his tongue against yours, biting down on your plump lip, and wrapping himself around you possessively. You’re lost in the feel of his soft lips against yours, the push and pull you fall into naturally sweeping you away in the moment. 

His hand comes up to your chin as he pulls away, holding you in place while you try and chase his lips. He hovers above you, tilting his head like he’s going to kiss you again. You reach up to close the distance, but he pulls back, smiling at the way his denial makes you pout. His lips trail along your jaw to your ear, biting down on the lobe, laving over the pain with his tongue. You cry out as your hips spasm underneath him, your ears are one of your most sensitive spots and he’s using it to his advantage.  

“Chan, please,” you whisper, breathlessly. 

“You don’t get to ask for anything tonight, sweet thing,” he says in a low voice, tracing his tongue around the shell of your ear. “You had your fun, now I get to have mine.” 

Your hands at his shoulders clench into fists, balling up the material of his shirt underneath them, using this one point of contact to ground you. He takes your wrists and holds them with one hand. The other unbuckles his black leather belt, slipping it out of the belt loops of his pants. He wraps it delicately around your wrists, taking care to keep away from the cluster of nerves and tendons. He cinches it down, not too tight but definitely snug against your skin. You wiggle your fingers, reaching to touch him in any way you can, needing to feel as much of his body as possible. 

“Ah-ah, no touching unless I say so,” he says, lifting your wrists and placing them behind the headrest of your seat. Your body is on display for him again, at his mercy. 

A pathetic whine escapes you as he kneels down to the floor, slotting his body between your thighs and pulling you close to the edge of the seat, your arms still connected behind the headrest. His lips find yours again, gentler this time, as he presses his body into you, making you lean back while he trails wet kisses down to your chest. He tugs the top of your dress down roughly, pulling your breasts out from underneath the fabric. His plump lips wrap around one nipple, flicking his tongue back and forth on the sensitive bud as the other hand pinches the other. You arch your back into him with a whimper, rocking your hips into him, chasing any sort of friction to relieve the building tension in your core.  

He sucks hard on your nipple before pulling it out of his mouth with a loud pop! He looks up at you from below, chuckling at your whimpers. “Feeling a bit needy tonight, sweet thing?” he murmurs with a dangerous edge to his voice. 

“Mhmm,” you respond, failing to produce any words as he rolls your nipples under his fingers, watching you squirm.  

“Good.” 

His hands trail down your body to the hem of your dress, already pushed up far enough to see a peek of your panties. He drags his fingers down your thighs as he lowers his face down to your cunt. The sight of him between your legs, looking at you like he was going to happily devour you, makes you quiver. The throb of need throughout your body is strong, settling deep in your pelvis. You tilt your hips up towards him, begging silently as you bite down on your lip. Chan just laughs at you, hovering right above your panties, making sure you can feel his hot breath where you’re most sensitive, just out of reach.  

“Sit still,” he says, a hushed command in his voice. You instantly freeze in place, attempting to be good to get him to touch you. He hovers for a moment before he obliges. His eyes lock with yours, slowly pressing his tongue flat against the wet spot that has soaked through the fabric. The small amount of pressure already has you panting. He groans into your cunt, the sound reverberates and makes you wriggle around, whimpering helplessly. 

“God, you’re so wet already,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. He’s lost in his own desire from just the taste of you. For a split second, he forgets the white-hot jealousy he felt from your little performance earlier. He leans back, opening his eyes and looks over you again; you blush under his intense gaze, feeling so vulnerable and so desperate for him. 

Chan runs his hands up your thighs, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and slides them down leisurely, making sure to take his time. You feel a burning trail left over every inch where he has touched your skin. He drags the fabric down to your ankles and has you step out of them, shoving the garment into his pocket. His hands hook behind your knees and shifts them towards your chest, your glistening cunt on full display in the low light of the car.

Sitting back on his heels, he pulls his phone out, aiming the camera at you. “Say cheese,” he teases, sticking his tongue between his teeth and giggling. You bite your lip again, whining at the hot bolt of embarrassment that shoots through you, eventually settling deep in your core, the muscles spasm with want. 

Chan types out a quick message and hits send, his gaze lands on you again. His eyes are so dark, they’d be menacing if you didn’t know he was just as awash in lust as you. 

“W-who’d you send that to?”  

“You’ll find out later,” he purrs, flashing you a taunting smile.  

His hands grip onto your legs once more. He caresses from the back your knees to your thighs, thumbs meeting on either side of your lips, massaging but not making contact with your clit yet. The indirect pressure squeezing your sensitive clit has you bucking into his hands.  

After grinding into his touch, trying to chase any sort of real friction, he moves one of his thumbs and gingerly brushes over the swollen bundle of nerves, pressing gently into your clit without moving. It makes you yelp as you try to rub yourself against his thumb, but his other hand grasps at your hip, halting your movement. 

“I thought I made it clear I was in control tonight,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you. “You’ll get as much as I want to give you.” 

With that, he raises his hand, and slaps you right on your clit with a quick smack! Your whole body lurches forward, crying out, searing pain and pleasure mixing together as it rushes through your body. He lands three more slaps to your cunt, with each a lewd wet sound fills the cabin of the limo. Tears prick in your eyes as you blink, there’s a buzzing sensation building in your core.  

“Fuck, you take that so well,” he grits out from his clenched jaw. Both of his arms hook around your thighs, holding your hips down, as he presses a feather light kiss against your wetness. He loves taking his time with you - the needier you get, the more he drags it out.  

His phone rings in his pocket, and his eyes flash to yours, sin darkening his expression. He taps the button and holds it to his ear. You hear a tinny voice from the receiver say, “Hyung?”

“Look what you did to her, Ji. I don’t know whether to kill you or kiss you,” Chan says. “She’s so wet, her pussy is aching to be touched. Here, listen.”

Chan puts the phone on your lower stomach as his other hand languidly slips through your folds, still avoiding direct contact with your clit. You whine pitifully, trying to rut into his touch, slick noises fill the air again. He lands a few more wet slaps against your cunt again, each making you jolt and gasp at the sting. 

Chan picks up the phone again.

“Hear that?”

“Y-yeah,” Jisung says shakily. 

“Good listening skills. Let’s put them to the test,” Chan says, putting the phone on speaker and setting it down again on your chest.

“Ji….” You whimper.

“Y/n? Fffuck…” you hear him pant on the other end of the call. 

“Don’t hang up, Jisung,” Chan grits out. “You’re going to listen to her while I make her cum. That’s what you wanted, right?”

There’s a groan on the other end of the phone. Your eyes widen, landing on Chan. His gaze softens for a moment, searching your face for any hesitation. You pull your lip between your teeth and give him a small nod. Immediately, his demeanor shifts back into the domineering lust from before. He lowers himself to your core once more, holding your thighs open while pressing them closer to your chest. Sticking his tongue out, he lets saliva drip down the tip directly onto your clit.

You take a deep shuddering breath, but it gets caught in your throat when Chan wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard. You choke out a groan as your hips convulse underneath him. He’s ruthless with the slow, sedate pace of his tongue. His forearms come up to pin you in place while his fingers spread your folds open for more intense, direct contact to your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your face scrunches up, a string of expletives leaving your mouth between whimpers. The lazy speed with deliberate, precise pressure of his tongue is enough to keep you teetering on the edge of an orgasm but not enough to get you over the crest. It’s driving you insane, the way that he’s playing with you like this. Any time you try to tilt your hips towards his mouth for more pressure, he backs away, anticipating your movements.

On the phone laying on your chest, you hear Jisung panting in unison with you. He echoes you, heavy breathing and grunting whenever Chan hits a particularly sensitive spot. Chan brings you to the brink again, the coil in your lower belly about to snap through you, when he lifts his head. 

“Can you hear this, Ji?” he says as he sinks a finger into you. You keen, your cunt sucking his fingers in eagerly. You nearly sob, wanting more, needing more, and Chan cruelly pushing you to the edge then denying you.

“M-more! Please, Chan,” you shudder out. 

“More?” he asks, sliding another finger in slowly.

You sigh at the stretch, still frustrated with the slow pace, not caring anymore how fucked out you sound as you whine. “Please…”

“I don’t know…” Chan muses. “What do you think, Ji?”

Jisung moans on the phone, “Fuck yes, more,” he says with a quivering voice.

Chan pauses, catching your eyes as tears start to stream down your cheeks. “Well, if Ji says so.”

Immediately, he fucks into you faster, fingers thrusting into your heat, tongue batting around your neglected clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, barely breathing from the sudden change of pace. You feel that coil tightening again in your lower belly, all your muscles taut in anticipation. Chan is brutal with the rhythm, racing you towards an orgasm, back to that edge faster and faster. 

When his fingers finally curl in that heavenly come-hither motion, the coil finally snaps. You scream, stars dancing in front of your eyes at the force of your orgasm as it pulses through you, fluttering your muscles around his fingers. Chan doesn’t stop, keeping up the intense pace of his tongue and his fingers, riding it out as long as he can. Your hips and legs are shaking. Your clit can’t take much more, the stimulation is too much. You writhe around trying to get away from his hand, but he doesn’t stop until you put a foot on his shoulder. He backs off, giving your clit one last kitten lick, making you convulse at even the lightest touch.

You slump back into the seat, trying to catch your breath, a thin sheen of sweat covers your entire body. You’re in a haze. The floaty feeling of trying to come back into your body buzzes in your ears. You barely notice when Chan picks up the phone from your chest.

“Did you catch all of that, Jisung?” Chan says, wiping your essence off of his chin.

A shuddering whisper of “fuck” comes from the receiver.

“You have ten minutes to be at my front door,” Chan says curtly. “...If you want another demonstration, that is.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark on Me, Part 14

Summary: Steve should have paid attention

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, teasing, unprotected sex, PIV sex, hard sex, mirrors, creampie, threats, I'm sorry for the pain I have caused, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Steve gives you a warm smile, watching you as you bashfully eat your food. His eyes follow every movement your hand makes before you drop your fork and try to give him an angry look, “Doesn’t look right on you, Dovey.”

“Stop watching me. You eat,” it’s unnerving how he watches you. Like he needs to memorize everything about your movements. Every moan that whispers off your lips as you eat, every happy dance you do, and even the way your eyebrows reflect how your feeling with each bite. He is obsessed with your very being.

“I already have,” he lowers his eyes, motioning towards your fork before you slowly put another bite in your mouth. Dragging out the utensil at a snail speed. Sucking on the metal hard before it pops out of your mouth, “It would be better for you and that soaking wet cunt between your legs if you didn’t do that. That’s your only warning.”

Oh, you love a warning and what happens when you don’t listen, “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you tease. Hoping that it amps him up even more.

“Ha,” his voice bellows up into the cabin and you drop your fork. Crossing your arms over your chest as you glare at him. You weren’t the same girl he met a year ago. You were a woman that could fully take and survive Steve Rogers. “Aren’t you just the prettiest little bratty slut. You really want to see exactly how I can punish you for your behavior?”

“I’ve been spanked before,” you remind him with an edge of defiance. Shimmying your shoulders a bit as you start to smirk at him. You have been able to take everything he’s shoved your way. “I wear my badge of Steve’s Dove proudly. Been marked and forbidden for anyone to touch. Would you have claimed me if I couldn’t put up with your menacing ways?”

“I’m a menace now, am I? Tell me, Dovey, who am I a menace for?”

“You’re a menace Steve Rogers, but not to me. All I see is a fool completely in love with me. And my pussy,” you emphasize ‘my’ before you launch out of your seat, and start to run through the cabin. “So in love with me that you will chase your girlfriend around this cabin laughing.”

Steve would never say the words, but he won’t stop you from feeling his emotions. You did make him a fool for you. He would never have been caught chasing you around with the brightest smile on his face. He didn’t even want to catch up to you just yet. He hadn’t felt this way in years. Like everything was just right in the world. In his world. And all he wants is to laugh and have fun with you.

“Oh, Stevie boy,” you smile, spinning around to look at him before you pull apart his button up. Giving your shoulders a shake so he can see your tits bouncing around, and he stops just to gaze upon you. “Not tempted?”

He shakes his head no, but he can’t ignore the shuffle he does with his pants. He is such a horn dog! “What about now?” Cocking up one of your eyebrows you cup your breasts. Keeping your eyes on his, as you start to pinch and tweak your nipples, “Now?”

“Not quite,” liar. You start to undo every button slowly before letting it fall into the floor, and he hisses through his teeth. His eyes drape over every inch of your skin. His gray sweatpants start to tent, and he still wants you to believe he’s not turned on.

“Really? You want to keep chasing me through the house?”

“I’d rather see you try and crack me. That’s what you’re poorly attempting to do, hmm?” He can try to deny it, but even the way Steve speaks is different. Gone was the harsh language. He still had a filthy mouth when he was inside of you, but now he is creating a different Steve. One just for you.

He glances hungrily over your naked body before walking over to the couch. Sitting down smoothly, and even acknowledges his aching cock by rubbing over his swollen pants. Smirking at you while you want to gawk. “You’re craving me, huh, Dovey? You want that sloppy cunt to be hugging this?” Those meaty fingers grip over his covered girth, and you let out a sound that is more animalistic than human.

“Make me lose control. Make me want to show you my cock that is yours for the taking. What is my little cock slut going to do?” You take a step towards him. Trying to be sexy as you saunter closer, but he holds up a finger, “Eh eh eh. Earn your seat on this throne.”

“How?” There’s only a flicker of a moment of Steve going soft. But that twinkle of an eye is gone and replaced with an evil sneer. “Captain?”

“Use your imagination. What do you think I want more of in the world,” how are you supposed to think when your pussy is throbbing. A low hum sounds through your brain and pulses through your entire body. There is only one thing on your mind, and that is you want him to fuck you. You don’t want anything sweet. You want to be destroyed. Since he’s going to be out all day. You wanted to feel him when he left.

Taking a deep breath, you softly close your eyes. Trying to recall a moment that you were the most vulnerable to Steve? When did he feel his own need to destroy you? To own you?

Like a movie playing in your mind, you open your eyes with a grin. If you were going to be destroyed, so was he. You take a deep breath and pretend the trauma that night didn’t happen. Thinking back to when that night was sexy. To the moments of Steve struggling to look at you or your reflection. He couldn’t even figure out what the best view for him was.

Nakedly walking over to the wall, you look at him through that mirror. Biting on your lip as you lean forward. Spreading your legs and sticking out your ass, so he gets a glimpse of your weeping cunt. Feeling more empowered as he adjusts himself. His chest rumbles out a low growl, and you grab both sides of the mirror.

Leaning over it low and slow as you lay it on the floor, and you look at him over your shoulder before straddling the mirror. Shimmying your hips from side to side, and his eyes move to the reflection to stare at your spread pussy. “Do you remember, Captain? You made me watch you fuck me with your gun? Had me coming all over it while I stared at my body taking every bit of what you were giving me?”

“Dove,” he warns as you start to kneel down. Getting down on all fours before you lean forward, and his Adam’s apple bobs with just how uncomfortably hard he is. His cock out of his pants, and he fists it slowly. Beads of precum leak onto the crown of his cock and you whimper. You can already feel him pushing into you.

You are ready to drool with the way he strokes his cock. Knuckles so tense trying to replicate the feeling of your tight walls. Wagging your ass before your hand goes in between your legs, and you gently run your hand through your velvety folds. Your moans match Steve’s, and you dip even lower, using your fingers to spread yourself out, and Steve’s grip gets even tighter.

“I know what would feel better, Captain,” you coo, moving your fingers to push into your warmth. Mewling as you watch him fight the pleasure that is right here. The stairway to heaven is steps away from him, and he was denying himself the greatest high he could ever imagine. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“And what’s that?” His eyes are black pools of lust. Mouth hanging open as he watches you fuck yourself. Pulling out your fingers you spread them apart, and he gulps as strings of your arousal stick to the appendages, creating a beautiful webbing of your honey. “You’re soaked.”

“Soaked and ready to be fucked. Filled up with your cum. And I get to watch all of it. Watch how my body morphs to accommodate that big fat cock of yours. Have you ever had a pussy as tight as mine?” He shakes his head no, and you adjust yourself to have your front flat on the mirror. Face on the cold glass as you look back at him. Wiggling your ass and watch him sweat.

“It’s all yours, Captain. Whatever you want. And you know you want it. Want to fuck me so deep and hard that I feel you in my throat. Feel you for the rest of the day, and feel empty because you're not inside of me. Like what you see?”

He stands up, and lets his sweatpants drop down to the floor. His cock is angry and red as he walks over to you. Sinking to his knees, but still he stares at your needy cunt. Inspecting your hole before he spits down on your puckered hole. His warm saliva drifts down your seam before it, and possibly your slick, puddles on the mirror below you. Thick, wet, and sticky. Just the way Steve loved it.

You whine. Pushing your ass into him. Desperate and needing his touch like you need the air to survive. Rocking your body into him with so much desire that you could almost come undone like this. “Please, fuck me. Own me. Destroy me. Kill any desire for another man’s touch.”

“There will be no other man,” he grunts, railing his veiny cock into you so hard, and so deep you see stars. Nails scratching on the carpet as he impales you. Giving you no time to adjust, just raw and dirty fucking, and you go outside of your mind. The pleasured pain surges all the way to the tips of your hair.

Unadulterated euphoria that you have never felt before. This is fucking. A careless need to get off like the animals you were underneath all that humanity. Pulling out the most salacious sounds out of your mouth, and you’re a mess. He is implanting himself into the blood that courses through your veins with every hard thrust into you. Exploring parts of your body that you are sure he has never discovered.

His fingers dig into your hips with such force, but all you feel is fulfilled. He could use you. He could have you. Every last bit of you, and you would still beg for more. Searing himself into your body more than the tattoo could ever do. Choking out your sounds of ecstasy, and he goes harder. Deeper.

His eyes go between where the two of you connect and the reflection. Watching himself burrow into your body like some predator. Leaving behind a trail where his cock is rooted in your body. The vulgarity of seeing your body take him fully like that makes his balls tighten up against his body, and he spanks your ass to help him focus on going harder. Faster.

Crying out into the cabin because your belly tenses up. Heat centers into your core as your juices start spewing out onto the mirror. Filled up with Steve so much that there’s no room for anything else. Nothing but wet skin on wet skin. “You're perfect, Dovey. Perfect for me. My greedy little slut takes me like no other woman. Every inch of my cock is inside you, and every bit of my soul is owned by you.”

You clench your eyes shut as the pleasure becomes too much. Your body goes limp and pliant for him as he spears into you so hard you lose all control. His hands are the only thing keeping you upright. “You’re mine.”

“Mine.”

“And I’m yours,” one more hard and particularly deep thrusts hits you so deep that you travel to another plane of existence. A plane where Steve’s body is bare of all his markings and scars. A place where he is whole again. Your body is able to purify him. Cleansing him of all the turmoil that made him who he was. And you get the innocent man that you deserve.

The love you’ve craved to hear from him, you see it in these moments. He was different with you and for you. Nothing has ever been more clear in this plane than the fact that Steve was irrevocably in love with your bratty ass. It was going to be a hard life, but life would never be worth living without him in your life.

His hands go rigid on your hips as he blows his load deep into your belly. His hold softens as he lowers your body flat to the mirror. Letting his softening cock fall out of you, and you whine at the loss, “Shh,” he starts to pick you up, but you lift your ass up into the air. Getting back on your knees.

His eyes drift to your gaping hole, and he watches his cream dribble out of your body before drops land on the mirror, mixing with your juices below our body, “You’ve ruined me, Dove.”

“Good. We’re equal now.”

“We are,” he agrees, continuing to watch himself leave your body drop by drop. A masterpiece if he had ever seen one. “And I love it.”

“You asshole,” you snort. You didn’t even care to try and get him to say those three words anymore. You were content with him giving parts of himself that he had never given anyone else.

“I was going to say you were my best friend, though. Does that help?” It does. Steve didn’t trust easily, didn’t throw around words like best friend lightly. He meant it. And that means more to you than eight letters.

“It does. Now put me to bed, best friend.”

You are equals.

Steve walks into the club a little taller. Shoulders back as he struts in front of his people. Giving a few nods to them before he makes his way into his office. He has no intention of spending an entire day here. He left you satiated and sleepy, and he would love to get back to you.

He wants to spend less time here, and has even continued to think about what Bucky said. He is getting older, and things were getting more dangerous with Rumlow, and whatever Peggy was cooking up. Her time would come soon enough. You don’t double cross Steve Rogers and get away with it.

He is beginning to think about a future that doesn't include this business. Ways to spend the large quantities of money he had made with illegal bullshit. And none of them were without you. Houses in different locations, preferably at the beach so he can watch you walk around in next to nothing all the time. Maybe catch a glimpse of you dripping of ocean water and laying in the sun.

That is what life is about and seeing Bucky content with his choices had opened up Steve’s eyes a bit more. He’d give this one more year. The longer in the game you had the riskier things became. The more power you owned the more people wanted to steal it away from you. And now they had the perfect tool to hold over Steve’s head for ransom. You.

It became too clear to him that you were his everything. This life didn’t matter. The money didn’ mean a damn thing if he didn’t have you to spend it on. And a family. It looked good on Bucky. He’d never seen Bucky happier, and the desire he had to not just fully claim you and connect you to him forever with a legacy that was both of you hit him directly in the heart he thought had been nothing but ashes. And yet he is feeling things he thought were a fairytale.

You awoke something in him he thought he had lost years ago. Humanity. Passion. Fear. Need. A reason to not just survive but to live. All in this perfect human that he didn’t want to miss a single second with. And there is nothing that he wouldn’t do to keep you alive. Alive and living your life to its fullest potential. He needs that for you more than he needs it for him. His life and soul was burned years ago, but you were the beauty in his dark world.

A world that didn’t deserve your light, or the power you could wield with that light. You are remarkable. And you are his.

His head tilts towards his door as Sam walks in. His brows furrowed and they sit low on his face, “I need you to sit down,” Steve starts to respond, arguing about being told what to do, but in Sam’s calming and deep timbre, he tells him again, “Sit down. You need to see this, it’s about Dove.”

Without hesitation he moves to his chair that Sam points to, and he’s met with a computer screen of his home. He looks up at Sam curiously before the other man pushes play for Steve. The video is a bit distorted, but it was taken this morning. Watching your beautiful body walk into frame, and the teasing show you put on for Steve.

A part of Steve wants to smile at how amazing it is to relive this moment until he realizes this isn’t the location of his security cameras, “What. The fuck. Is this?” His fist pounds on the desk, viewing one of the most intimate moments he has ever had with you. How you made yourself completely vulnerable to him. Trying to erase the night that he branded you as his own in the most humiliating way. You retrieved that moment back this morning, and someone saw it.

“Skip to the end,” Sam answers flatly.

Steve reaches towards his keyboard, and skips towards the end where there’s a camera change. This one in your bedroom as he carries you into the bed. Laying you down and kisses all over your worn body. A moment so pure and perfect and it was stolen from him. Kissing over your heated skin until you completely fall asleep, and it pans over to the floor, and some stupid envelope. Staying on something so unimportant that it highlights the words that he utters, and Steve stands up just as the screen goes black.

A mechanical voice vibrates deep into Steve’s core and he seethes. This moment wasn’t for anyone. Not even for you and it was stolen out from under him. A threat. A fucking threat that makes him see red, and ready to light the world on fire, “You’ve been warned.”

With an angry growl, Steve grabs his computer off the desk and hurls it into the floor. Turning to stomp out of his office and back where he came from. “Steve?”

“How the fuck did you get this?”

“It was emailed to us.”

”You saw and heard fucking nothing. I will destroy whatever asshole did this. And I will start with Lark! But I need to know what my goddamn warning was. FUCK! That night Lark was there, did anybody come into the house?”

Sam stares at him a moment. He knows he should have told Steve sooner, and this wasn’t going to go well. “The footage was tampered with,” Steve bellows out a scream that is feral. His face becomes beet red and all he wants is you. “There’s about three minutes missing from the feed.”

“Shut it down.”

“Steve?”

“No one goes in or out of here until I get to Dove. All phones confiscated. I want Natasha to get eyes on Rumlow immediately. You didn’t see or hear anything!” Emphasizing the last word before storming off.

No road laws are followed as he races to get back to the cabin. His phone propped up with a clear view of you dancing around in your little shorts. He should be coming home to you with a smile, and instead it's anger and anxiety. To see you move about with so much joy pains him to know someone had put you at risk. You’re not going to understand. You couldn’t. Not with what was captured, and he wouldn’t explain it.

Slamming his car into park he stomps up the steps, and you run to greet him, “Hey, Captain,” you give him the brightest smile. Happy because you had already missed him. This morning was perfect, but then you see his face, and you frown. “Steve?”

He doesn’t say a word as his long strides carry him to the bedroom with a few steps. Walking right over to the envelope before he picks it up to rip open. Teeth clenching harder with every line before he crumples it and the contents up, and stares out into space. So many things run through his mind, and a part of him dies. The part he was finally getting back completely burns up, and the ashes start to blow away with the wind.

“Steve, what’s going on?” The sound of your voice hits deep into his soul. He had made a private vow to never see you hurt. And you sound hurt. And it would only get worse. Already hating himself, but one look at you, and the thought of anything happening to you is worse than death. He would rather feel the pain of torture than this. The thing worse than death is to ever see anything happen to you.

“Steve?”

“We need to pack your bags. We’ve gotta go,” his voice is lifeless as you switch the weight of your feet. Something was wrong. Off. It feels bad. He says your real name, and your lip starts to tremble. “Either you pack you some bags, or I will.”

“Are you packing a bag, too?” He wasn’t. But if it is what it takes for you to not crumble right now, it’s what he would do. You see the tenseness in his body, and want to scream at him. “Steve?”

He gulps, standing up to walk towards you. Cupping your cheek, he presses a sweet kiss to your lips, but it’s like he’s seeing right past you. “If you’re going to kiss me make it mean something,” Steve’s hands move to your ass, and he picks you up. Making you wrap your legs around him as he holds you so tight. Deepening the kiss, and you melt into his skin. Holding onto him like you are going to lose him.

Feeling every bit of the love he has for you through this one kiss alone. A kiss that reminds you that he is a man that acts instead of says. And what he says is often a lie. His words never match his actions. He pulls away and sets you on the ground before walking towards the closet. “It’s not safe for you here. Do you want to help me pack your things or not?”

Sighing you decide its best to help him. Even if he thinks he knows what’s best.

Sitting on the hotel bed you curiously watch Steve on the balcony. He spent more time avoiding your eyesight and smoking a joint than he did with you. Today should have been a good day. It started off magical, and ended in — this. Confused wasn’t even the word you would use. Hurt? Maybe.

It’s like playing a game of tug-o-war and you know you’re about to lose. All this pushing and pulling you and Steve have been doing this past year made you feel like you were winning, but now it’s like he is ripping the rope right out of your grasp. Something was off and you didn’t like it. The feeling just festers inside your gut and you want to lash out at him.

He hadn’t kissed you again. Hadn’t so much as been sweet to you. It was mostly this; his back pointed towards you. He was avoiding something. And that something is you or something to do with you, and you hate it. You try and take deep breaths as you glare at his beautiful broad back. You had three bags of things, he had a small duffle bag. He was not staying as long as you, and he was lying.

“Steve Rogers, you’re a goddamn coward,” he takes a long drag of his roach, and still doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t acknowledge you said anything. “You could at least tell me the truth since I walk around with your fucking mark on my fucking neck,” sure add in some colorful words and make him want to punish you.

“You’re the biggest coward I have ever met, and you still won’t look at me,” you watch, ready to take the punishment as long as he looks at you. “Look. At. Me,” your words are harsh and spit through your teeth. You need him to feel the panic that is settling in your body. Putting out his joint, he slowly turns to look you in the face and his eyes are haunted. “Look at me!”

“I am.”

“No, look at me! See me. See all of me,” you scream, pulling off your clothes. “I need you to fucking see me, and you tell me what the fuck is going on!” he twists his neck again, and a sickening pop runs down his spine. “What the fuck are you going to do about my fucking attitude and using this fucking language, huh? Fuck you, Steve Rogers. Fuck you,” adding emphasis you throw up your middle fingers, and he sprints towards you.

Picking you up and he throws your now naked onto the bed. His thick body goes in between your legs, spreading you out and with one hand he messes around with his jeans. Struggling to get them undone, so you reach up and help him. “You see how wet my fucking pussy is from pissing you the fuck off?”

“You better shut your fucking mouth, Dove,” finally. It is violent and intense, but he said the nickname you have grown to adore. Ripping off his shirt, he spits down to your hole. Steve’s hand grips onto his member before he runs it through your slick. “You’re such a fucking slut,” he grits out, soaking his cock in your wet heat.

“Then you better fucking do something about it,” he growls low. Gripping each side of your cheeks with his thumb and fingers before he slams into you. Taking your breath away and rolling your eyes into the back of your head. You pissed him off. Good. “Fuck you! Fuck you, Steve!”

There’s no care in the way he pistons into you. Fucking you like you were some random whore that he was using to get off. Cheapening whatever this bond is between the two of you. Something is off. “Fuck you,” your voice loses the edge to it. It hurts, and not in a physical way. He’s tugging harder and harder at that rope, attempting to take it away completely.

“Fuck you,” your voice now a whisper as he fucks you harder. Still not meeting your eyes. Clenching his eyes close, and it kills you. “Fuck you. I hate you.”

“Good,” you let out a strangled sob with that one word. Giving up as he rips on that rope harder. You are losing your fight, and he was removing every bit of the rope from your hands, “But I’ll make you this promise, Dove. I promise that you will feel me etched in every part of your skin. That when you fuck another man that you still feel my cock buried deep in your body. So deep you can’t escape it. Every time some man looks at you, you remember the way I made you so weak. You’ll hate the ground that those men walk on because they’ll never be me. You’ll crave my touch and the way that I stretch you out.”

The rope is pulled completely out of your hands, and you lie below him, limp and in so much emotional pain you’re numb. His motions, and his words still don’t stop. They cut so deep that tears pour down your face. “You’ll never escape. And no man will ever make you feel the way that I do. I have left my mark on you so deep that you’re forever changed. You’re not longer that girl that I made my slut.”

“I hate you,” uttered words that mean nothing to him. Hate is just as strong as love, and you despise that you feel for him so deeply during whatever the fuck this is. You want to feel nothing for Steve Rogers, and still you feel everything.

“And you, sweet Dovey, have left your mark on me, too,” he pulls himself out of you, and you let out a strangled no as he spurts his cum on your stomach. The last fragment of the rope gone from your finger tips as he comes on your stomach just like a slut, “Don’t call me. Don’t look for me. Don’t reach out to me.”

“I’m just your whore now?”

“You’re nothing. You mean nothing. There’s money for you in one of your bags, I’ve paid for your troubles. Create a new life and forget this,” still he can’t meet your eyes as he removes that rope, and out of your hand and grasp. There’s no emotion in his words. They’re so monotone, and you hate him. But you want to erase every bit of him instead. Nothing could ever hurt as worse as being made to be a paid for slut to Steve Rogers.

“You’re goddamn liar. Spoken like a true fork tongued lying bastard!”

You let out the fiercest scream you can muster, staring right at him, but he robotically dresses himself, throwing a towel over you, “Clean yourself up,” he whispers before he walks out the door and out of your life.

A coward if you have ever seen one.

And you were a goddamn fool.

Next

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#your mark on me #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #dark!steve rogers #soft!dark!steve rogers #drug lord au #chris evans #chris evans character

[celtic-crossbow]

We Were Built to Fall Apart and Fall Back Together

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Setting: Alexandria (pre-Saviors war) Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; blood, injury, illness; allusions to self harm; canonical character death Summary: After Denise's death, you notice something is terribly off about Daryl, but he won't let you close enough to find out what. A/N: This novel was written for @darylssunshine and my lord, I'm worried that I got too carried away and that's just a ton of rambling and ooc Daryl. 😢

Something was wrong with Daryl.

You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you just knew he wasn’t himself. Well, completely himself. He was amped up and ready to fight, ready to take revenge. Everyone seemed to understand why. He had watched Denise die, harbored that guilt upon his own shoulders alone. He had conceded and let her go with him and Rosita. It was his fault that she had been taken from the community, taken from Tara. Of course, that wasn’t true. The blame lay solely on the Saviors, but Daryl was nothing if not self deprecating and stubborn. That—the willingness to take full responsibility, to beat himself down—was commonplace. However, there was something else.

Something in the way he communicated, a quieter tone than usual. Of course, no one else picked up on it. No one else spent 99% of their time with him. No one else had conversations with him in bed, heard him vent or laugh or just talk when everything else was still and quiet.  Not like you. No one else heard the different octaves, the slight trembles. To everyone else, he was just talking. 

Something in the way he carried himself. Daryl had a specific gait. Nearly silent footfalls when stealth or care was needed but in everyday activities, his boots pounded the ground. He walked with purpose, long and even strides. Not with a slight drag of his left leg. So minuscule that no one seemed to notice. Except you. 

Something in the way he ate. Daryl had a healthy appetite. He shoveled food into his mouth like someone would take it from him at any moment. Maybe someone had before. He gave it up willingly when supplies were scarce and he feared the kids would do without. Supplies weren’t at a surplus but no one was starving, yet no one seemed to notice that Daryl wasn’t eating. No one except you. 

You had reasons to worry that others had no way of being aware. Daryl wasn’t coming to bed at night. Two nights in a row. You found him on the couch the next morning. That was concerning in itself. Daryl up at the ass crack of dawn Dixon was still asleep when you came downstairs. Once he was awake, there was no conversation. Not a word spoken. He’d forego his coffee and anything to eat and just trudge out the door. 

“So.” You leaned back against the wall next to him, narrowing your eyes when he moved to the side just the slightest bit. 

“So?” He crossed his arms, hands tucked away in his armpits. 

“What’s wrong with you?” You pressed, forcing yourself to keep your distance. He angled his head toward you but kept his eyes on the meeting. 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.” He rasped in a whisper so quiet that you needed to lean closer to hear him properly. You answered with a simple mhm. There was no point in pursuing the conversation there. 

“Has anyone taken inventory since—” Rick let the words filter out, dropping his head with a sniff. “Tara isn’t up for it but we need to know what we’re running low on and—”

“I can do it.” Carol volunteered, standing and smoothing her pants and shirt. “I’ll go now. We know there was quite a list when she—” Even Carol couldn’t seem to muster the words. 

“Died.” Daryl finished, his voice rough. Everyone looked at him, a variety of expressions. “What? No one else seems to be able to say it. She was murdered. Killed. Dead.”

Rick was quiet for a moment, as were you, waiting for the next thing someone would say. 

“That isn’t on you Daryl. It was the Saviors, and she wanted—”

“The hell it ain’t.” The archer snapped, pulling his body from against the wall with the slightest stagger. You squinted, surveying the room. No one noticed. Of course they didn’t. “I took ‘er out there. Knew better but did it anyway.” He was challenging them, daring anyone to try and take some of the weight of guilt from his shoulders. When no one spoke up, he tapped his fist against the side of his leg and stalked out of the room. 

Then it was all eyes on you. A wordless game of who’s gonna check on Daryl was set in motion. 

“I’ve got him.” You nodded and left the room. He wasn’t in the foyer and unlikely to be upstairs in a house that wasn’t his own, so you opened the door and traipsed down the porch steps. “Daryl?” A look to the left and then to the right revealed nothing but empty evening streets in Alexandria. 

You knew almost everything there was to know about the archer. Including that if he did not want to be found, you would not find him. 

You did the only thing you could. You sighed and headed home, hoping just maybe he’d be there, though the odds were against you. 

The house was dark when you got there, which was nothing new. Even if he was home, he could move around in the shadows like a ghost. Opening the door, you stepped inside and closed it behind you, opting to leave the lights off for the moment. 

“Daryl, are you home?”

Nothing. 

Another sigh as you removed your boots and padded into the kitchen, this time, turning on the lights. Coffee would have been the better option but your nerves won out with their persuasive argument for alcohol. You had two bottles of wine that you used in cooking—well, that was the intended use. 

Glass poured and book in hand, you turned off the light and perched yourself on the couch, lighting a candle to illuminate the words on the pages while you waited for him. Even if you fell asleep, you’d know if he came home.  If the apocalypse had made you into anything, it was a light sleeper. You’d know the moment that door opened. 

It never did. 

When morning came without a trace of your boyfriend, you passed into another level of worry, the part where the scenarios came intruding upon your usually levelheaded thoughts. 

What if he had gone after the Saviors alone? What if he had been hurt? What if he had been—

No. That thought, you simply refused to entertain. Boots on and weapons holstered, you stepped outside. Carol was walking toward your house, but before you could ask if she had seen the missing archer, she was looking up with a hand hovering over her eyes to block the sun.  A glance toward you but she remained silent. 

Jogging down the steps, you joined her, shielding your eyes and looking toward the roof of your house. 

Daryl was perched there, knees drawn up with his arms wrapped around them. He was just watching the townsfolk move about without a word or movement. You worked your jaw back and forth to stifle the annoyance of having him above your head all night while you waited for him until the candle had burned out. 

“I got this. Thanks, Carol. Did you need anything else?”

She was still watching her best friend but reluctantly turned to you. “We’re running low on nearly everything in the infirmary. Gauze, gloves, ointments, antibiotics, painkillers, and the meds some of the people need to manage health issues. Would you—”

There was a loud thud several feet away, Daryl straightening—staggering and tilting but yes, straightening—from his jump. “I got it. Make a list.”

“Daryl, maybe you should—” Carol started. 

“Make a list.” Was all he said before walking up the steps and into the house. 

You started to speak but the other woman was faster. “Something’s not right with him.” She had crossed her arms and was staring at your front door. “He isn’t eating. He’s walking differently and there’s something about his tone.” You blinked at her. “What? Just because you’re sleeping with him, you think the best friend doesn’t notice these things too?” Carol smiled, squinting against the sun. 

“Touché.” You conceded with a nod. 

“I’ll make the list but go with him. You and someone else. No matter what he says.” Her hand came to rest on your shoulder and squeeze. 

“You know I don’t listen to what he says anyway.” You placed your hand over hers and brought it down with a squeeze of your own, separating as you walked toward your house. 

Your bag was on a hook by the door, all unused necessities still inside. You merely needed to replenish and pack up some extra clothes. As your boot touched the bottom step of the staircase, you heard the tap begin to run in the kitchen. You carefully hung your bag on the banister post. 

Rounding into the room, you found Daryl grasping the edge of the kitchen island, arms outstretched with his head hanging between them. His hair was draped like a curtain, shielding any view of his face. The glass he’d filled sat untouched in front of him. 

As you approached, it became apparent that he hadn’t realized you were even in the room. That was beyond concerning. Daryl had an eagle eye and the hearing of an owl. He should have heard you the moment you entered the house. 

“Daryl.”

He didn’t startle, just simply squeezed the countertop’s edge. “Take it you’re goin’ too.” He rasped, his words followed by a harsh sniff. 

“Of course, I am.” You stepped closer and reached for his hand, your fingertips barely making it halfway before he moved. “Daryl, wait.”

“G’on an’ get ready. Wanna head out, maybe be back ‘fore dark.” 

“Listen, I know someth—”

“Take whatcha need in case we gotta make it a overnight thing.” His own bag was on the hook beside where yours had been moments ago. Daryl snatched it as he opened the door and headed outside. 

“Stubborn fucking mule.” You grumbled, jerking your bag from the post on your way up the stairs. 

You had been in the car for 45 minutes and Abraham had not stopped talking. You loved the big red gorilla but sometimes, he needed several layers of duct tape over his mouth. From the way Daryl was massaging his left temple as he drove, you would need to find that tape or the other man would be riding in the trunk very soon. 

“Really puts a burr in my saddle what they did to Denise.”

Shit. 

Daryl’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. The fingers rubbing his temple clenched into a fist. His jaw tightened and ticked. Abe had already been grating his nerves and it seemed the other man had severed the last one completely. 

Time to defuse. 

You cleared your throat. “So, according to the map, we should take the next right.” With a grunt, the archer followed your directions. 

By the time he shifted the car into park, your worry for his well being had reached a crescendo. His eyelids were drooping. A thin sheen of sweat was glistening on any patch of skin you could see. And when he opened the door, he put his boots on the ground and sat for a moment before grasping the top of the door to pull himself up and out. 

Something was definitely wrong with Daryl. 

He opened the back door and grabbed his bag, slamming it before Abraham could even blink. 

“Alright, little lady. What seems to have his panties in a bunch?” 

Maybe you really could find some duct tape. 

“I have no clue.” You watched Daryl light a cigarette behind the car while he scoped out the strip mall for any signs of danger. Even while standing still, he listed sideways and struggled to right himself. “But it’s nothing good.”

“I’m gonna go on ahead. You check on your dreamboat. See if he needs to sit this one out.” The large man nodded, climbing out of the cramped backseat. 

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Cause that’s gonna work.” Abraham just grinned at you and got a clear view of your middle finger in return. Your eyes settled on your archer once again, now leaning against the trunk much as he had the counter that morning. Abraham stopped without getting too close, cracking some joke that at least made himself smile before moving on. Daryl simply shook his head. 

Your lips trilling, you finally opened the door and climbed out. Working your arms through the straps of your bag, you closed the car door and rounded the back as Daryl’s hand fell away from his stomach. He caught your narrowed gaze and grunted, pushing himself away from the car. 

“S’get this over with.” He grumbled, stalking away at a slower than usual pace. You didn’t even have to walk briskly to catch up as you normally would. 

“You—pulled a muscle?” You said in your best game show contestant voice. The man didn’t stop but his eyes slid over to regard you quizzically without turning his head. 

“What?”

“You have a migraine?”

“Y/N.”

“Indigestion?”

“Stop.”

“Stubbed your toe?”

“Y/N.”

“A goddamn splinter in your left asscheek? Would you just stop and tell me what’s going on?!” You reached for his shoulder but he sidestepped straight into a graceless stagger, expression pinched and angry. 

“Told ya already! Ain’t nothin’ wrong! Just wanna get this done so we can get back to focusin’ on those assholes that killed ‘er!” With a groan of frustration, he pulled his gun from the holster, but you didn’t miss the pain that flashed across his face. “Would ya just—just go that way? Ya got the list. M’gonna see if there’s anythin’ else we can use.”

“Daryl, I know you. Would you please—”

His arm straightened out past your head, pointing a finger on the direction Abe had gone. “G’on.”

Your nostrils flared but you spun on your heel and stomped away. The insufferable archer couldn’t possibly understand how well you knew him if he thought he was hiding anything by being a jerk. Daryl had three types of anger: angry, homicidal rage, and—the one you and everyone else saw the most—deflection. He would use the fear of provoking his ire to keep anyone from detecting that something wasn’t right, whether that be physical or emotional. 

Daryl was grieving and guilt-laden. No one could ever make him feel worse than he could on his very own, but per your observations over the last couple of days, that wasn’t the entire issue. There was a physical ailment of some sort. Precarious steps, sweating, exhaustion, poor appetite. 

Your stomps slowed to a crawl before your feet were just no longer moving. Abraham had caught sight of you by then, nodding that he had located the pharmacy, but you didn’t notice. 

“Oh, my god.” He would have told you, right? You, of all people. There’s no way he wouldn’t have, he wouldn’t have risked everyone. You were already running back to the spot where you had gone your separate ways, the tall redhead’s boots pounding the pavement behind you, but Daryl was no longer there. Not that you thought he would have just stood there anyway. 

“What’s all hubbub, bub?” Abe called from just behind you. 

You didn’t answer. You continued to take corners and weave in and out of alleys between shops, your gun drawn but not even poised to aim. “Daryl?” You called near frantically. The groans and snarls of hungry corpses grew nearer, sending your heart pumping into overdrive. “Daryl?!” 

Rounding into an alley, his name was on the tip of your tongue when a tight grip on your bag yanked you inside the door you had nearly passed right up. With a squeak, you made to raise your weapon only for an overly warm hand to push it back down. 

“Y’soundin’ the dinner bell out there or somethin’? S’gotten into ya?” Daryl snapped in a harsh whisper. His face was inches from yours, his hand still folded over your own. His skin was on fire.

Oh god, no. 

Abraham’s shadow blocked most of the light from outside the storage room, your words spilling into the shadows. “Daryl, are you bit?” His hand was snatched away as if you had slapped it. 

“The fu—no, I ain’t bit. Y’think I wouldn’a told ya?” Daryl hissed, turning to head further into the building. 

“I’m beginning to wonder.” You laughed wryly. He just kept walking. “Then you’re sick.”

There came a frustrated groan from the silhouette walking in front of you in the poorly lit area. “Give it a rest, would ya?”

“You have a fever. I felt it. You’re burning up.”

“S’my blood pressure hittin’ the roof cause you’re pissin’ me off!”

You bit your tongue when Abraham chuckled from somewhere behind you. “Who needs the good ol’ boob tube when you’ve got relationships in the end times?” You barely stopped yourself from aiming your gun at the man. There’s a time and a place was a concept with which Abe was drastically unfamiliar. 

“Would you stop waking please? I know you’re sick or—or you’re hurt. Just talk to me. I only—”

“M’a grown ass man, Y/N! Don’t need ya tryin’a be my mama!” He grabbed the handles to a set of heavy metal doors, but didn’t try to open them yet. “Get on back an’ find the pharmacy. Gonna meetcha there.”

“Daryl—” 

A large hand came to lay heavily on your shoulder, fingers squeezing with a tenderness that brought tears springing to your eyes. “Come on, chickadee. I think we should get on over to that pharmacy.” Daryl was still gripping the handles, his head bowed, the door remaining unopened. “Come on now.”

You swallowed hard with the first step back, wiping angrily at your eyes as you turned to push past Abraham. “Let’s get the shit and go home.” Stepping outside, you squinted against the sun and glanced to your right where the walkers shuffled by in the back alley. They hadn’t noticed you. When a solid thud sounded from behind you, there was no hesitation in rolling your eyes. “Jesus, Abe. Be quiet.”

“Wasn’t me.” 

You twisted to regard him, finding thick eyebrows raised while he shook his head. “Daryl.” His name came out across a breath. You pushed past the large man for a second time and navigated through the dimness to where you had left the archer at the door. A dark heap laid against the bottom of the entryway, unmoving. “Daryl? Oh god, Abe!” 

“Ssh. The walkin’ uglies are gettin’ closer. We should—oh, shit.”

You were already on your knees, feeling the dry heat of fever in Daryl’s skin when you took his face into your hands. He was no longer sweating; simply burning.  “Daryl. Daryl, please open your eyes.” With frantic movements, you started patting him down, moving clothing to examine his skin. “Abe, the flashlight.”

The redhead scrambled to shrug off his bag and pull the device from the side pocket. He clicked it on. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Hold it steady.” Parting Daryl’s vest, you began unbuttoning his shirt. “Turn your head.” 

“I’ve seen a man’s chest before, darlin’.”

“Turn your fucking head, Abraham!” You shouted, flinching when you heard a snarl that was much closer than the rest. “Give me the light please.” Your left hand held Daryl’s shirt closed, the buttons undone, while your right hand extended and gestured with urgency. “Please, Abe. Give me the light and go see how many there are—if you can handle them.”

He glanced between you and Daryl, obviously not understanding but did as you asked. Once he had walked out of sight, you lowered your head with a long exhale. Over the months you had known him, Daryl had allowed himself to feel less and less defined by his scars. That didn’t mean he wanted to parade them in front of everyone, even if the individual had already seen them. You and Carol seemed to be the only exceptions to that rule. 

The flashlight held beneath your chin, you parted his shirt, the culprit for his symptoms staring you in the face. A bandage covered the lower left side of his abdomen. It was clean but the skin just around the edges was an angry red. Nostrils flaring, you peeled away the gauze and then let go, the tape resticking to small areas. The flashlight fell to the concrete floor. 

“You are un-fucking-believable, Daryl Dixon.” 

The bullet wound was still open, torn and gaping from his own success in removing the slug, lined with crusts of yellow and a sickly shade of green inside. You knew what this was, this was his punishment. For himself. The burns for Beth. An untreated bullet wound for Denise. He wanted to hurt until he made it right.

“Goddamn you.” You sobbed, removing the bandage entirely. Bowing over him, you let your forehead drop against his chest, shoulders shaking with tears you no longer cared to suppress. No. No, you couldn’t break down. Daryl needed help. 

Abe wasn’t fighting. Aside from the distant snarls and scrapes of shuffling feet, you heard nothing. 

“Abe?” You called as loudly as you dared, sniffling, your face wet with tears and snot. “Abraham?” 

“I’m here, girly.” He appeared within your sight, gore-covered knife in hand. “Got the ones outside. 

“He was shot. It’s—it’s infected.” You scrambled to close Daryl’s shirt and picked up the flashlight, the beam trembling. “Would you—I need to go to the pharmacy. We’ll need the meds—everything that’s there. Can you stay with him?” He was shaking his head before you even asked. 

“I’m gonna take care of that pharmacy. Then we’ll load up tall, dark, and broody. We’ll go home and get him all fixed up, you hear me?” He called your name quietly and crouched down when you just kept staring at Daryl. “He’s gonna be just fine. He’s got you lookin’ after him.” Your wet gaze fought to meet Abraham’s, finally succeeding even as your eyes danced and darted in a valiant attempt to maintain it. 

The inhale trembled just as harshly as the exhale. “Okay. Okay, take our bags, too. You’ll need the extra space. I’ll, um—I’ll barricade the door after you go. Shave and a haircut when you come back?” 

“Two bits.” He grinned, rising to his full height. Your fingers grazed over Daryl’s jaw as you stood, loath to leave him for even that meager amount of time. Abe checked outside the entrance, each way, and turned around to walk backwards as you started closing the door. “If I’m not back in five minutes, just wait longer.” You rolled your red-rimmed eyes and shut him out. 

Searching the room with the flashlight lifted, you found a desk. It looked sturdy, heavy. You really weren’t even sure you could move it alone. Placing the flashlight on the floor, you pushed against the side, grunting and huffing between your sniffles and hiccups, but it was all for naught. The thing didn’t budge. 

“Fuck.” Spinning, you pressed your back against it and used your legs, finally getting the damn thing to slide, albeit noisily. You couldn’t manage getting it firmly against the door, but nothing was getting by it and that’s what counted. Snatching up the light, you grabbed one of a stack of metal folding chairs and ran back to Daryl’s side. He hadn’t moved an inch, but his head was rolling back and forth against the concrete. 

“Y/N—”

Longing to just sit next to him, you stood the flashlight on its end next to your feet and jammed the chair beneath the door handles. The dead weren’t coordinated or cognizant and could only open the door by accident but it was possible and you were taking no chances. 

Back on your knees, you leaned over him, smoothing back his sweat-slick hair. “I’m here, love. I’m mad as hell but I’m here.” The heat radiating from him made your stomach churn. You pressed a palm to his cheek, his forehead, flipping your hand over to do the same.  

“S’my fault. She’s dead—gone an’ s’on me.” He started to sit up, finding he couldn’t, either too weak or in too much pain. Daryl had a high tolerance for hurt, so it was likely the former. 

“Ssh. Stay still.” His hand moved toward the exposed wound. You caught his wrist and brought his palm to your lips, kissing and lowering it back to the floor. “Nothing’s your fault.” 

“You’re s’posed to say that cause ya love me.”

You laughed quietly. “Maybe, but I mean it. She wanted to go, Daryl.”  Petting his hair in tender strokes, you watched his eyes struggle to remain open. They were only slits of bloodshot and blue as it was. There was a thud scrape thud outside.

“You’re pretty.” Daryl slurred, head turning to chase your touch when you pulled away to twist toward the alley door, blocked by several shelves and other junk. No coordinated knock, no light seeping inside. Walkers. 

“That’s the fever talking.” Out of an unfortunate practiced habit, you checked his pulse, finding it thready, too fast. 

“Nah. Always pretty. Even when I ain’t cookin’ from the inside out.” His eyes were closed, rolling beneath the lids. 

“And you’re handsome. Even when you are cooking from the inside out.” You mused, tracing his jaw with a fingertip. The corner of his mouth ticked, as close to a smile as you were likely to get. “Abraham went to clear the pharmacy. Gonna get you all cleaned up. Head home. You’re gonna be in a bed for a while.”

“I like the bed.” You were wrong. Now, he was smirking, eyelids fluttering. “‘Specially when you’re in it too.” His hand left the cold floor and landed lightly on your right hip, fingers weakly flexing. “Could take advantage’a me right now.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed in earnest, “now I know it’s the fever talking.” It was a true statement. Daryl almost never initiated physical intimacy, but he also never turned you down when you craved it. 

When your relationship entered into sexual territory, you thought he was only doing it because he wanted you to be happy, guilt had consumed you. As if his Y/N sense had tingled, he had reassured you, promised that he wanted it too but just didn’t know how to show it, how to come to you with his own needs. He was a patient and gentle lover, contrary to his rough and rugged exterior. He was comfortable showing you that side, that affection, behind closed doors. That’s all you could ever ask for, ever would ask for. 

“Wanna kiss ya.” His hand carved a trail up your side, fingertips grazing your breast but not lingering. His hot palm settled on the side of your neck. “I love ya. Gimme a kiss.”

Smiling brightly at this vulnerability and feverish show of true emotion, feelings that would never receive a voice— even with you—you leaned down and brushed your lips over his. His mouth trembled as he began to shiver, chills setting in from his body fighting the infection, fever burning unchecked. “Easy, tiger.” You cooed against his mouth. “I love you too. You stay in bed when we get back and I’ll give you whatever you want, but for now, I just need you to rest for me, okay?”

“Whatever my girl wants, she gets.” He grinned, silly and lopsided, as you pulled away for a clear look at his face. Even in this state, you had not a single doubt that if Abe returned at that very moment, Daryl would morph into a scowling, grumpy asshat. Oh, how you were going to tease him later. He deserved it for hiding that injury from you.

Minutes ticked by, and it felt like hours. How long had Abraham been gone? Daryl was trying to roll over, attempting to curl in on himself, but you managed—with frighteningly little effort—to keep him on his back. When he groaned, arching his upper half with a hand trying to press against the wound, you caught his wrist again. “Ssh ssh ssh, leave it alone. I know it hurts but it’s infected enough as it is.” He didn’t appear to have any walker blood on his hands from what you could see with the dim flashlight beam but you’d take no chances.

“M’sorry I lied to ya.” Now he just sounded miserable, your heart clenching and aching despite your frustration. 

“I know you are. You can make it up to me later. Right now, I just need you to rest and hang on, okay?” Your fingers carded through his hair, catching on tangles and snarls. You’d help him wash it later, give him the sweet attention he so desperately needed while hurting so deeply, physically and emotionally. 

He went quiet after that, still trying to reposition, whimpering when you wouldn’t allow it. 

“I know, baby.” His pain so bare, ailing from the infection, you could hardly find it within you to be angry with him. He had punished himself enough. He didn’t need the weight of your irritation on top of it. You would need to talk to him, but you’d have to hold back, douse that flicker of anger that he didn’t allow you to help him carry the emotions that were weighing on him so heavily. 

Knock knock, na-knock knock. 

“Abe.” You whispered, beginning to rise to your feet when you felt a weak tug at the bottom hem of your shirt. Daryl’s eyes were wide and unfocused, the pretty blue dull from fever. 

“Don’t go.” 

With a sorrowful look of apology, you worked his fingers loose, lifting his hand to your mouth to kiss his knuckles. “It’s okay. I’ll be right back. Not even leaving this room.” He didn’t respond, but allowed you to lower his hand back onto the floor. Standing, you quickly crossed the distance to the door, placed your back against the desk to slide it away. You barely achieved it, feeling wrung out from Daryl’s openness under the influence of his feverish state. 

“We hit the jackpot.” The redheaded man held up two bags, the contents nearly spilling out. The one on his back was equally as full. 

“Did you see fever reducers? Tylenol? Ibuprofen? Aspirin?” You grabbed the side of the bag closest to you, nearly tipping it too far in your haste. Abe was talking behind you, reblocking the door while you walked back to Daryl, your hand sifting through the bag. Come on. You weren’t looking while you walked, your body on autopilot while your mind concentrated on getting your boyfriend what he needed. When you could see a yellow label toward the bottom, just barely visible beneath the tubings, fluids, and other pills, you nearly shouted in relief. Bayer Genuine Aspirin. “Thank god. Abe, your canteen.” 

You were already opening the bottle, punching through the seal. “Here.” Abraham tapped the container against your shoulder. With two tablets already in your hand, you took hold of the canteen and motioned for him to unscrew the lid. 

“Thanks.” In the moments of your absence, Daryl had finally succeeded in turning onto his side, legs drawn up, body quaking. “Daryl.” There was no room on his opposite side. He was too close to the doors. “Daryl, I need you to take some meds for me.” The only reply was a groan while he pulled his knees closer to his chest only to jerk them away with a choked off shout, the movement aggravating the wound. “Daryl.” 

“Need me to, uh—” Abe waved a hand toward the whole of Daryl. You knew what he meant. Even as you nodded, you could already hear the grumbled complaints about you allowing him to be manhandled. “Okay, Prince Charming, just need to sit you up a little for these pills. Then we’ll get the fuck out of here.” He started with the left arm, sliding a hand beneath it to roll the archer just enough to work his other hand underneath the opposite arm. “Upsy daisy.” Abraham moved slowly, his eyes telling a tale of worry when Daryl grimaced and groaned. “He’s hotter than a jalapeno’s ass.” His voice was quiet but there was an urgency there. “Give him those pills and then we gotta go.”

He was right. If the fever continued to climb, there was the risk of febrile seizures. No one wanted that to happen. “Here, take these.” You pressed one of the pills to the archer’s bottom lip, a spasm of pain crossing his face.

“Ain’t takin’ your stupid pills.” Daryl snapped—damn near literally—jerking out of Abe’s hold just to fall back into it. You reeled back, just from the sudden movement, not out of fear. Never fear. Not with him.

“Daryl, stop.” You walked on your knees to get a little closer, trying again. “I need to get started on getting that fever down.” Chapped lips pulled away from teeth in a snarl, his hand coming up to slap yours. The tablets disappeared into the shadows. “Daryl, what the—”

“Said I ain’t takin’ your fuckin’ pills, Merle!”

Your breath stuttered, saucer eyes flitting up to Abraham and back down. “It’s Y/N, Daryl. Merle—Merle isn’t here.” The canteen was placed next to the bag of medical supplies, keeping a few feet of distance between that and Daryl, in case he lashed out again.

“Think I dunno s’goin’ on?” Your eyes slid up to Abraham as he lowered himself behind your archer, large hands relocating to grip Daryl’s biceps. “I take the drug’a the week an’ you steal the rent money to get more! Ain’t fuckin’ happenin’!” 

“It’s just aspirin. And it’s just me and Abe here with you.” He tried to lean toward you, halted by the other man’s strong grip. He was too weak to do much about it. “Merle’s not here. Do you remember where he is?” You risked reaching toward him, fever-bright eyes tracking every movement right up until your palm rested on his shin. 

His breathing picked up as he lowered his head. It hung forward with his hair acting as a protective curtain. “Dead.” He rasped. “Merle’s dead.” You would have asked Abraham to let him go but he’d likely topple over without the support. 

“I’m sorry.” You squeezed his leg, tilting your head when his whole body tensed. 

“I hitcha.” The tone of his voice was both incredulous and remorseful. “Y/N, m’so—”

“Mm mm. None of that. You’re hurt. You’re sick. You’re burning up.” There was a sound from behind the double doors. “Daryl.”

“I’ll take ‘em.” 

You didn’t wait for him to change his mind. Shaking two more tablets from the bottle, you ducked your head to encourage him to look at you, the small white tablet was pressed against his bottom lip again. “Come on, love.” The second pill was behind your other three folded fingers. That left your other hand free to grab the canteen. 

His lips parted just as the first walker scratched against the other side of the doors. With time quickly running out, you pressed the pill past his lips, following it up with the second. You rapidly opened the canteen and brought it to his mouth before he could attempt to dry swallow the meds, smiling approvingly when he tilted his chin upward to allow you to help him. That in itself spoke volumes about his current state.

“Let me just rinse the wound and put some gauze over it and we can go.” Another thump had both you and Abraham looking at each door. “Shit.”

“Shit’s right. I think we’re boxed in.” He was careful when easing Daryl back into a supine position, hovering to make sure you asked nothing else of him. “Take care of him. I’ll go take a look at how deep the shit we have to wade through is.”

“Okay.” You nodded, digging through the bags. If there was nothing else, the water from the canteen would have to do until you could get him back to Alexandria. The wound needed disinfecting horribly, but your options were limited. Your lip was becoming sore, indented from your teeth pressing into it while you searched. “Please, please, please.” When your hand wrapped around the bottle of rubbing alcohol, you could have sobbed. Daryl was barely holding on to consciousness when you turned to him, breaking the seal on the bottle cap. “This is gonna suck, baby.”

He didn’t answer. You didn’t really expect it of him. What you did expect was the almost violent reaction the moment the cold burn of the liquid washed over the wound. His eyes flew open with a scream that you were likely to hear in your nightmares. It was easy to catch his shoulder with one hand but keeping him there was another problem entirely. His hands scrambled toward his stomach, fingers clawed as if he could scrape out the lingering sting of the alcohol. Forced to sit the bottle aside, somehow carefully enough not to spill it, you caught his wrists, one and then the other, alternating back and forth to keep his hands away from the festering wound. The doors trembled with the renewed efforts of the dead following the noise. 

“Daryl. Daryl, listen to me. I know it hurts but I just cleaned it. It’ll stop soon.” His head fell against your collarbone with an accompanying whimper that made your eyes burn with moisture. “It’ll stop soon.” He was at least cognizant enough to heed your instructions, his hands falling limply to the floor, only for his nails to scrape back and forth over the concrete. “I need to put a dressing over it, cover it until we get home.”

“We’re boxed in.” Abraham said before even rounding the work table that blocked your view of him. “We need to wait it out and hope they move on.”

Your head was shaking back and forth, chin bumping into Daryl’s temple. “We can’t wait. He needs help now.” You had, at some point, wrapped your arms around the shivering archer, rubbing his back as he panted against your neck. 

“M’okay.” He whispered, likely not loud enough for Abe to hear.

“No, you’re not.” It wasn’t supposed to come out as authoritative as it did but it had the desired result. 

“Okay. M’not.” Daryl agreed, rubbing his fiery forehead against your skin. “M’sorry.”

“Stop it. It’s done.” You let your tone soften. He didn’t need anymore weight on his shoulders. “We just need to get you outta here.”

“You could find a way out. Leave me here, come back for me.” He rasped. You weren’t even sure he was entirely grasping reality at that point. He couldn’t be if he thought that you would ever leave him behind.

“We’re not doing that.” Abe interjected before you could even summon a refusal. “We’ll find a way. Just hang tight, man.” With another glance toward the door you were perched in front of, he looked at you. “You too, buttercup.” With that, he stole the flashlight and began searching the room.

You turned your full attention to Daryl. You couldn’t see enough to cover the wound but maybe you could still fumble through it. Reaching into your bag, you dug through the newly acquired supplies to find the few things you had brought with you. He was moving against you but you thought nothing of it until you heard the distinct clink of his zippo. His hand was vibrating when the flame lit up the small area around you.

“Thank you.” A kiss was pressed against the crown of his head while you relieved him of the lighter and placed it on the floor. The shivering had worsened and you worried again about seizures just as you found the gauze and tape you had brought with you. The rolls were almost spent but you likely had enough to cover the wound at least. “Will you lie back for me?” Daryl nodded silently and let you guide him until he was on his back, body jerking as the cold of the floor seeped through his clothing to cool his feverish skin. His eyes were barely slits. 

It was a quick process, the bandage taped down and his shirt buttoned up. Replacing the lid on the bottle of alcohol, you crawled up to sit above him, pulling his head onto your lap. He turned his face against your stomach and sighed as your fingers carded through his hair, massaging his scalp.

“You’ll be okay.” You have to be.

It had to be hours that had passed, Daryl’s skin cooling only to burn again. He was unconscious, restless and moving constantly; head tossing, fingers flexing, legs drawing up only to straighten. How could you have let him get this bad to begin with? You knew something was wrong and you told no one, thought you could deal with it on your own. He was your boyfriend, your person, and you allowed him to suffer.

“Found a air duct.” 

You startled, causing Daryl to flinch but not wake. “What?” Abe shined the light above your head, jerking it to have you looking up to a series of large ducts that likely led to other areas of the building, maybe ones that were not surrounded by the dead.

“We can crawl through, find an empty room. Go out a window or a door if there is one.”

The idea was sound except you weren’t sure Daryl could move on his own and dragging him would take longer than you were afraid you could afford. “What about Daryl? He can’t—”

“He’ll have to, or I could go. Bring back help, but those rotters are gonna take down those doors sure as my short and curlies match my head.”

I did not need to know that. Regardless, he was right. There was no other way. The doors beside you were trembling as hard as Daryl, soon to buckle under the weight and efforts of walkers seeking a meal. With a deep breath, you nodded. 

“Wake him up.” Abraham ordered softly. “I’m gonna get one of these open.”

Another nod but he was already walking away. Looking down at Daryl, his face completely hidden against your belly, you stroked his cheek. “I need you to wake up.” He shifted and groaned, but didn’t rouse. “Daryl, baby, you’ve got to wake up. We have to get you out of here.”

“M’awake.” His voice was muffled against your flannel, syllables jarring with the shivers wracking his frame. “Where are we?” He took a deep breath while he turned his head, as if he had been suffocating himself against you.

“You don’t remember?” Worry churned in your gut, crawling up into your chest with a sickening grip on your heart. 

“Can’t—can’t think.” His eyes struggled to open, face contorted in discomfort. He began trying to sit up, groaning and hissing through his teeth when you helped. His left arm wrapped around his middle as he looked around. “We—we went on a run.”

“Yeah, and we’re kinda trapped.” He snapped his head around to look at you, swaying slightly. “Dead at both doors. Abe found some grated ceiling ducts that run above. We’re gonna crawl through them and find a spot where we can get out.” You licked your lips and leaned toward him to catch his wandering attention. “Can you do it?”

“Ain’t got no choice.” Bracing his abdomen, he shifted to the side, slowly getting his knees beneath him. When you hastily stood, hands on his ribs, he said nothing against the assistance. 

“Abe, you get one?” You called.

“Almost.” There was a loud clang. “Strike that. Got one.”

“On our way over.” Daryl was on his feet but still doubled over, trembling so intensely that you weren’t sure his legs would hold his weight. “Let me help.” It wasn’t a request. Firmly taking the wrist of the hand he had braced just above his knee, you pulled his arm over your shoulder. The fever was raging beneath his skin, boiling his blood into vapor. He needed the infirmary. Carol could start an IV. You could wipe him down with cold cloths. He could get antibiotics. The wound would need to stay open until the infection was under control. You could do none of those things until you got him back home. “A little further.” You encouraged, barely looking away from him to where Abe was walking toward you.

“We gotta get while the gettin’s good.” He pulled Daryl’s arm away from you, barely letting the archer’s feet touch the ground as he hauled him toward the duct. There was already a crate waiting to give you all enough height to reach.

“Abe,” you said as you studied the escape route, moving around to gather your bag onto your back and toss Daryl’s up and inside. “I need to go first. Then Daryl, then you.” Daryl was dazed, staring at you but seemingly seeing right through you. “I can scout for a door or window. Daryl behind me. If he struggles, I need you behind him so you can push him along.”

His eyes focusing, the archer squinted. “M’fine. Don’t need no pushin’.”

You stepped forward, his slouch against Abraham bringing him to perfect eye level. “If you say m’fine one more time, you won’t need to worry about walkers, Daryl Dixon.” With a huff, you side stepped them and climbed up on the crate, grabbing the edges and hoisting yourself up. “All I’ve heard is m’fine and ain’t nothin’ wrong for days and now you’re half dead and surrounded by walkers. I swear to god, I’m going to throttle you.” You rambled, not really even caring if he heard you. 

Even if he didn’t, Abe did.

“Phew, man. I wouldn’t wanna be you when we get back.” He helped Daryl onto the crate, hands hovering to catch him as the archer began to pull himself up, his arms shaking violently with the effort. Abraham had to duck and let him use his shoulders and back to make it inside.

You crawled forward enough to make room for both men, turning on your side so you could look down to watch. Daryl made it onto his hands and knees, managing to crawl out of the way before he lowered himself gingerly, letting his forehead rest against the cool metal. 

“Alright, girly! We’re all in! Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

You turned without a word, crawling forward. The ducting turned to the left and then the right, bringing you just above a herd, all trying to break through the double doors you had just left behind. Your movements were slow and careful, the drag of Daryl’s pack being nails-on-chalkboard loud.  You didn’t want to attract attention and have them trying to follow the sound. It was fortunate that the combined groans and snarls concealed the movement above but Daryl was struggling.

You looked back, lifting your arm out of the way to get a clear view. He wasn’t crawling. He was on his belly, hooking his fingers into the holes of the grating below to pull himself forward, pushing with his legs as best he could. Abraham was just behind him, telling stories and jokes with a few words of encouragement in between. You needed to move faster, leave them a little behind so you could find a way out.

“He’s flagging, Y/N.” Abraham called out quietly after a few more minutes of crawling and dragging. You stopped again, and looked back. Daryl was barely pulling himself along, his sick and injured body just having no more of it.

“He’s right here.” The man in question groaned. 

“Fuck. Daryl. Daryl, stop.” His body went limp with the exception of his heaving breaths, cheek against grating. “Rest. I’m going to find a way out and I’ll come back.” Abraham nodded from behind the archer, who merely turned his hand with a thumbs up. You left both bags and crawled with purpose, watching the areas below you for walkers, where you would slow down and minimize any sounds. Right, left, left. There were forks in the ductwork. You had to remember how to get back to where you had left the two men. Right, left, left. Your brain repeated as you headed straight. Looking below you, there was a well lit room. It was quiet aside from the distant groans blocked by a door. 

Bingo.

You crawled until you found the opening, lifting the thick metal and turning it so you could drop it to the floor with a clang. You stayed still with bated breath. The door did not jar and the sounds remained distant. Lowering to be flat on your belly, you peeked out to get a full view. The room was empty; an office. A decaying body lay in the corner, jeans and a logoed t-shirt with a gun laying on their chest. Poor bastard. The door would lead out into the halls but there were windows. No shadows passed by in the few minutes you offered. When you felt dizzy from hanging upside down, you wiggled backward. 

With three quick breaths you let yourself fall out and crash to the floor with a decent thud and a groaned ow. It took a moment to catch your breath, your back protesting as you levered yourself to your feet, quickly devising a strategy. The desk was just as heavy as the one in the warehouse area, sliding and catching on carpet this time rather than the smooth concrete. Somehow, you managed to get it in front of the door. 

Climbing onto the desk, you winced at what was bound to be a painful disaster. Keeping your eyes on the edge of the duct, you walked to the far end of the structure. Daryl needs you. Daryl needs you. Daryl needs you. The running start was minuscule but it proved to be enough. While one hand slipped, one latched on and you were dangling from the vent. With nothing and no one beneath you, you had to grab hold with your other hand and pull yourself up. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have faked cramps in PE class.” You grunted. The grates in the bottom of the duct made pulling yourself up a little easier once you could reach them. After what seemed like an eternity, you were finally inside and wasted not a single second, moving hastily, almost clumsily. Left. Right. Right. 

“Daryl. Abe.” You breathed once they were in sight. Abraham, however, stared back at you with concern, stricken. 

“Y/N, I didn’t know what to do.” You shook your head, clueless, and looked at Daryl. He was on his side, breathing in shallow pants. “Turned him on his side, that’s all—”

“Fuck.” Seizure. You crawled past the bags and brushed the hair away from Daryl’s face. The other man was talking, but you didn’t hear him anymore, feeling the inferno beneath the archer’s skin. “We gotta go. You push, I’ll pull.” With Abe’s help, you were able to maneuver the unconscious archer into his back. 

You had a bag hanging from each shoulder, giving you even less room to shuffle properly, but you kept moving, tugging under Daryl’s arms while Abraham pushed upward using the sides of the archer’s knees. It was a long and grueling trek with you whispering to him all along the way. 

“You’ll be okay.”

Just before you were set to pull him again, he groaned. “Y/N?”

“I’m here.” You let go and leaned over him. “I’m right here. Found a way. Just need to get you there.” He gave a noncommittal hum, blinking open tired eyes when a tear hit his cheek. You could have sworn it evaporated. 

“Feel like shit.” He grumbled. Your hands hovered while he made slow work of turning himself over, rising onto his hands and knees. 

“Look like it too, man.” Abe teased. Bless him for trying to lighten things up. 

“Thanks.” Daryl mumbled, raising his head to meet your eyes. “We goin’ or not?” His entire frame shook. 

You wanted to shove more aspirin at him, needed to, but letting him move on his own while he could would get you out of the ducts and closer to the car. “Uh, yeah—yeah, let’s go.” You were actually stuck crawling backwards but it wasn’t the worst thing. It gave you the opportunity to keep an eye on him. He seemed to be doing okay, moving slowly, clumsily, but doing so on his own. In the conscious back of your mind, running on autopilot, you kept up with the ducts. Right. Left. Left. “How’re you doing?” 

“Peachy, sunshine. Just peachy.” There was no bite to the words, just exhaustion and pain. “How much further?” He was tiring again, movements becoming even more sluggish. If he stopped for a break, it was likely you and Abraham would be dragging him again.

“Not much.” You looked over your shoulder, backing around the last turn. “Almost there.” The duct began to grow brighter with the sunlight from the windows below through the missing grate. You looked back just in time to not fall out. “Okay, let me go take a look.” Daryl nodded, remaining on all fours even when his arms seemed barely able to take his weight. 

You slid one bag at a time off your shoulder and out of the opening. Going out feet-first made it so much easier than the first time. You landed easily and pulled the bags with you toward the windows, checking outside and then listening against the door. You didn’t even hear the walkers from earlier. Maybe they had moved on to where the others were trying to break through. 

“It’s clear!” You called up quietly. Before you could offer any insight, Daryl tumbled out of the vent and landed with thud and a sharp exhale. “Jesus, Daryl!” Grabbing beneath his arms, you helped him move out of the way for Abe to tumble out in a similar fashion. “You okay?” You tossed over your shoulder, propping Daryl against the wall to look him over. 

“That was a bitch.”

You cracked a smile and nodded at the archer. “He’s fine.” Daryl snorted weakly. His head dropped back against the wall while you busied yourself with finding the aspirin and the canteen. “Here.” His eyes were barely open, reserves spent. “Come on, baby, work with me here. We still have to get you to the car but I need you to take these first.” Sucking in a breath, he raised his head and opened his mouth. He didn’t even try to take them on his own. This is so bad. You weren’t sure if he even knew what was going on, if he would remember anything after collapsing by the doors.

“Gonna need you to get the car, girly.” 

“What?” You turned, almost spilling the water on Daryl. “Sorry.” You carried on with getting the pills onto his tongue and holding the container for him while he took two long swallows, turning his head away to let you know he was finished. Brushing back his sweaty hair, you leaned in to kiss his forehead and then joined Abe at the window. “I’m not leaving him.” You focused on where the three of you were in proximity to the car, ignoring the look the taller redhead gave you.

“Listen, I know that, to you, no one will ever be better at taking care of him than you,” when you shot him a look, he held up a hand, “but you’re faster and you can get the car to right there at the end of the alley, I can carry him out. You can’t.”

Crossing your arms, you twisted to look back at your boyfriend. He seemed to be caught somewhere between awake and asleep. His skin was pale in direct contrast to the fevered flush on his cheeks and chest. His eyelids were purplish, lips nearly colorless. You didn’t like it, but it was the most logical option.

“Alright.” You whispered, nodding as if responding to yourself. “Alright.” Turning, you dropped your arms and crouched down beside Daryl, digging through his pockets for the keys. “Daryl.” He hummed but didn’t move. “I’ll be right back, okay?” When you stroked a finger down the edge of his jaw, he leaned into the touch, scowling when it pulled away. “I love you.” You wanted to make sure he knew, just in case; wanted him to hear it.

“Me too, sunshine.” He said breathily, face relaxing. You thought he had passed out but then he inhaled deeply and lifted his head, opening dull, unfocused eyes. “Where are we?” You didn’t answer. Keys acquired, you strode purposefully for the windows and opened the nearest one.

Halfway out, you fixed a warning look on Abraham. “Don’t let anything happen to him.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout him. Just worry ‘bout me if he comes to his senses again and you’re not here. Go on, now.”

There was no way you couldn’t smile—because it was true. It didn’t matter what was happening to Daryl, if you were missing, he was razing everything in his path to find out why and where. He might not actually speak the words I love you but he would show you constantly. You were just fine with that. You didn’t need verbal declarations from a man that had literally almost died for you several times over and then shrugged it off like it was no big deal. 

It had been one of those moments that you had bit the bullet, so to speak, and flung yourself into his arms, kissing him breathless. He had turned several shades of red afterward but then things began to change. He was more open with you, wanted to be around you, wanted you to be around him. And then there you were, several months later, and he was yours. You weren’t sure he knew the name of a single woman in Alexandria that wasn’t in your group. He didn’t give any of them a second glance, regardless of how they swooned over him. 

Then your thoughts turned to Denise. She hadn’t really been one of your group, not in the beginning but her love for Tara and tenderness toward all of you had integrated her into the circle of survivors you called family. She had always been kind to Daryl. Making sure he ate and had vitamins—even if he said it looked like shit. She wasn’t afraid of him like so many others had been. 

It was why he was taking her loss just as hard as Tara was.

Your feet touched asphalt outside the window without a sound, something you had picked up from Daryl. Creeping forward, close to the wall, you leaned around the corner toward the parking lot at the same time as pulling one of your knives from the thigh-sheath. The car was within sight. A quick run over and you’d pull it around. You’d have Daryl home and hooked up to an IV before nightfall. Staying low, you continued to stick close to the outside of the buildings. You would only put yourself out in the open when you needed to make the last sprint. Unfortunately for you, you weren’t paying enough attention to the wall you were sliding against.

The open door caught you by surprise, the walker that stumbled out of it, even more so. “Shit!” The old man barrelled into your side, knocking you into a concrete beam and down to the ground, the side of your face dragging over the rough asphalt while your knife went careening. Using your knee, you kept the body held off of you, one hand smacking away the cold, slimy fingers trying to dig into your skin. Your other hand fumbled for your second knife. Abandoning that endeavor, you concentrated on getting the damn corpse off of you. 

With a swift movement, you grabbed the tattered jacket the body still wore and pulled sideways, using the momentum to swing yourself on top of the walker. Obtaining the upper hand, you were able to snatch your knife and drive it through the eye socket with a disgusting squelch. You sat straddled over the body for a moment, catching your breath. The right side of your face burned, the thick coppery scent of blood in the air. 

“Asshole.” You pulled the knife free and stabbed it one more time just for pissing you off. With no other immediate threats, you took the chance to snatch up your other knife and resheath it before your boots pounded the pavement all the way to the car. From over the top, you could see the split up sections of the herd wandering the different alleys next to the building. None of them seemed to be heading to where you had come from, but sometimes they were sneaky bastards and you didn’t know until they were on top of you. Glaring daggers at the body you had left on the pavement, you mumbled “case in point.”

Behind the driver's seat, you started the engine and immediately moved toward the alleyway you had exited, throwing the shifter into park. You heard him before you could even get out of the car.

“The fuck ya let ‘er go out alone?!”

“Calm down, amigo. She’s just gonna get the car and bring—”

“Why didn’t you go get the car?!”

“Someone’s gonna need to carry you when you end up eatin’ shit cause you won’t calm the hell down!”

“M’goin’ to get ‘er.”

“I promised her I wouldn't let anything happen to you.”

“Don’t make promises ya can’t keep. Y’should know there ain’t many ya can anymore.” His voice had quietened but you could hear him moving as you got closer. The window opened just as you stepped below it. Grabbing the pane, Daryl started to haul himself out but stopped with a startled shit! and nearly fell back inside. “Don’t fuckin’ do that!” He hissed.

“Was it your turn to ring the dinner bell, loudmouth?” You grinned, only for it to widen when he flipped you off. “Abe! Toss out the bags. I’ll load them while you help him.”

“Ain’t needin’ no help.” Daryl argued, hand pressed against the side of his stomach while he struggled to climb out the window. Abraham was shaking his head fondly and tossing you the bags through the second window. You juggled all three bags at the same time, throwing them into the trunk. A group of two dozen or saw walkers had ventured out of the alley near the body of the one you’d encountered. 

“Shit.” You made it back just as Daryl’s boots hit the ground. He staggered sideways and bumped into the opposite wall, panting as if he’d run a marathon. “Idiot, you should have let him help.”

“I got it. M’good.” He straightened and put his hands on his hips then crossed them on the top of his head, trying to catch his breath. 

“Baby, you don’t look good.” He didn’t flinch away when you reached for him. It was likely because he had been avoiding your touch to hide the fever, but that cat was long out of the bag. He simply looked miserable, lowering his head when your palm rested against his cheek. “Come on, walkers headed this way.” 

Only then did he seem to notice the blood on your face. “What happened?” His overly warm fingers gripped your chin and turned your head while his other hand slapped flat against the wall to keep him upright. 

“I’ll tell you on the way.” Smiling gently, you turned toward the car, catching the concerned look that came over Abraham’s face.

“I don’t—well, shit!” He bolted past you and caught Daryl under the arms before he could hit the ground. “Open the door, get in the back and help me get him in.” You didn’t need to be told twice. With the back door open, you watched Abe scoop up the archer in a bridal carry that you’d have to remind the man not to tease Daryl about later. With a nervous glance through the back window, you whined at the closing distance between the walkers and the car. 

“Come on, come on.” Abe angled Daryl toward you so you could grab beneath his arms and pull him in with a little help from the other man. He arranged the archer’s legs to hang off the seat while his head was on your lap. The walkers were touching the back of the car by the time Abraham closed the driver’s side door. He said nothing but held a peace sign out the window as the herd grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Finally able to breathe, you kissed Daryl’s forehead and smoothed back his hair. “We’ll be home soon. You’re gonna be okay.”

You were sitting by the window in your room, drinking a hot cup of tea Carol had brought for you after the initial chaos of getting Daryl stable and settled had fizzled out.

There had been two seizures on the way back to Alexandria, his pulse hammering beneath the fire of his skin. Between you and Carol with Rick and Michonne grabbing anything that was needed, an IV was started, Daryl was stripped down and covered with a thin sheet, the wound was debrided, and you had cleaned his skin with cool cloths until the tea was ready.

Carol had gone to do inventory with what hadn’t been used or wouldn’t likely be needed in his recovery, leaving you alone with your archer. Your head fell back against the chair and rolled toward where Daryl lay. The sheet was just above his hip bones, letting air get to the freshly cleaned wound until the inflammation was down enough to be stitched—if it could be at all. His color was a little better, improved after only an hour of fluids.

He groaned, heading lulling toward you, a spasm of pain fluttering over his features before he relaxed again. Abandoning the mug on the window sill, you dragged your exhausted body to sit on the edge of the mattress and wrung out the cloth over the bowl next to the bed. The fever was still present but likely to improve now that he was resting and receiving antibiotics, the fluids keeping him hydrated against what the heat stole from him. 

He groaned again, eyelids fluttering but not opening. “Ssh.” You hushed, wiping down his face and neck. “We’re home. We’re safe.” He remained still, but you continued to soothe him. “I’m here, baby.”

He didn’t stir again until deep in the night, eyes blinking open to find you sitting in a chair next to the bed, thumb stroking the top of his hand. 

“Y/N.” He croaked, grimacing. Clearing his throat, he tried again with the same result. 

“Let me get you some water.” You used your free hand to push against the chair arm but his fingers tightening their hold brought you to a halt. Brow drawing inward, you sat back down. 

“M’fi—” He visibly choked down the words at your withering expression. “Yeah. Water, uh—uh, please.” He cleared his throat again and coughed. When his fingers loosened around your hand, you got up and went downstairs. 

Carol came in the door while you filled the glass, walking past the kitchen before stepping backwards to peek her head in. “Hey.” 

Tiredly, you returned the greeting, sitting the glass on the counter as she approached. With a gentleness that you needed, she rubbed circles on your back. 

“Go easy on him.”

You tossed your head back with a sigh. “I know.” Leaning forward onto your elbows, you rubbed your hands over your face. “I’m just so angry with him, Carol. He could’ve died.” Her soft ministrations continued. 

“You both need some rest. He needs to heal and you need to forgive him.”

With a smile that was hard to summon through your exhaustion, you picked up the glass and took her hand, squeezing it before letting go. “I already did.” 

Your feet dragged with each step up the stairs, finding Daryl still awake when you entered the bedroom. “Can you sit up?” 

“Think so.” His voice scraped across his vocal chords and he winced. His arms shook but you waited him out, letting him do it himself since he seemed to be fully aware. 

“Here.” His hand trembled but he managed to drink on his own as well. 

“Better?” You took the glass, sitting it on the bedside table. He responded with a quiet mhm and leaned forward so you could pile the pillows up behind him. “Daryl.” You could see the dread in his expression. 

“M’sorry.” He picked at the skin around his thumbnail, looking down at his lap. 

“I know. Daryl, look at me.” You caught his wrist as his thumb was in route to his mouth. Swallowing hard, he looked the other way entirely. “Baby, look at me.” The flush that was already present on his face grew darker, but he finally acquiesced to your request. “I’m not mad at you, but you scared me.”

“I know.”

You leaned toward him and brushed back his hair. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I know what happened, it—it hurt, but Daryl, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Why ain’t it, Y/N? Shouldn’a took her out there. Shouldn’a—” His voice cracked. 

“It was her choice to go. She wanted to go.” Your hand left his hair to rest against his cheek. He absently leaned into the touch but didn’t move when you saw the realization flitter across his face. “You took a bullet to try and stop them. You did all you could.”

“Wasn’t enough.” He whispered, turning his head away from your palm. You felt anger rising up, itching to crawl out of your throat in the form of harsh words. The silence was deafening, the tension smothering. With a deep breath into your nose and out of your mouth, you remembered what you had told yourself. 

“You don’t have to carry this alone. I know—I know what you do to—what you allow yourself to go through feels like a penance, but if you’d just let me, I can carry some of that weight.” He chewed his bottom lip, shifting slightly until he winced, his hand almost covering the open wound before he caught himself. “That’s what friends do, Daryl.” When he lowered his head, you ducked to hold his gaze. “It’s what couples do.”

When he released his lip, red and indented from the press of his teeth, his chin wobbled, nose twitching and eyes squinting against the tears that threatened to fall. “Ain’t—” he swallowed and sniffed, turning his head even further from you. “Ain’t yours to carry.”

You didn’t hesitate. “If it weighs on you, then it weighs on me. Let me help you. Let me be there.” Standing, you took the two small steps that brought you to where he sat, your fingers tenderly stroking his cheek before you gripped his chin and willed him to look at you. “Let me love you right.”

You had only seen Daryl cry twice; when he lost Merle and after the self inflicted burns when Beth was taken too soon. He hadn’t yet cried for Denise or for Tara. You weren’t sure he ever would. 

Then the dam broke. 

It started as a shaky breath, a whimper, but then his head dropped, his shoulders jerking with each sob. You said nothing while walking away, placing a hand on the knob to close the door. Carol was in the hallway, a towel on her arm, heading to shower, when she caught your eye. Her smile was sad, tight-lipped but she nodded. You returned the gesture and closed the door. 

Daryl had drawn up his right knee, his elbow pressed into it so his hand was over his face. There wasn’t much room on the side he was occupying, so you lifted the tubing for his IV and crawled up to sit on the other side, pulling him against you without protest, his face against your collarbone. 

“It’s okay. It's just us.” You whispered into his hair. “It’s just you and me and I’ve got you.” It was impossible to hold back your own tears, listening to him release all that pain, everything the wound only delayed. So you held him tight, weeping into his hair and letting him cry until his energy waned, his breaths evening out. 

“M’gonna try.” He whispered suddenly, causing you to startle. 

“Try?” You brushed his hair back and angled your head to see the side of his face. 

“Try to—gonna try to letcha help.” He sniffled and nuzzled against your skin. “Letcha be there.”

“I’ll always be there. Promise.” 

His arm wound around your middle and held tight. “Don’t make promises ya can’t keep.” You laid your cheek on the top of his head. 

“I’m not, baby.” His head tilted back, forcing you to move, but your lips instantly pressed against his forehead. He looked so vulnerable, so tired, but yet so much lighter. “I’m not.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon whump #Spotify

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JASON TODD | RED HOOD (generalized canon)

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“Lick” (Jason Todd x Fem!Reader)

| Jason rushes to pay you a little visit.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, cunnilingus, fwb to more, Dick Grayson has a big mouth

| 1k+ words

| One last treat from me for Halloween! Happy Spooky Season!

Jason has you on your knees, arms crossed over the back of the couch, and mewling into the bend of your folded limbs.

It’s not fair. An hour out of his patrol, time where he was supposed to be debriefing with the Bats, and instead he’d slipped through your window and dropped to his knees for you like a man starved.

Jason didn’t always start a whole conversation when you guys met unplanned like this, but it was uncommon for him to not chat you up at least a bit before reducing you to thin gasps.

You moan, muscles in your legs straining due to the way you’re writhing against the broad strokes of his tongue. He might’ve switched up on you but it was a great switch.

“S-shit Jay,” you pant. He groans a muffled ‘mhm’ into your folds before tightening his grip on you and bearing you down on his face.

The lingering keen that move pulls from you is not voluntary.

The heat that travels up the low of your stomach has your brown skin glistening and chest heaving. Clearly Jason was on a fucking mission. Your toes curl, and Jason undoubtedly notices how close you are because he starts moaning like it’s his clit being abused, and then your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Your orgasm crashes through you so suddenly that in order to not wake your whole floor you’re forced to bite into the couch cushion. Moaning and desperately grinding down on him all the while.

Your legs lock together as you cum, only not crushing Jason’s head because of the vice-like grip he’s got on them. Glutton for punishment he is though, you don’t think he’d mind much if they were actually squeezing around him. But that was something to bring up later when you weren’t full body shuddering through catching your breath.

“What,” you gasp. “Was that for?”

Jason, who for all intents and purposes hasn’t moved, barely responds. He’s too busy licking the cum from your dark lips and making chills run up your spine from the oversensitivity. Your only saving grace is that even with him occasionally dipping into the pink of your vagina to hungrily lap up your juices he at least wasn’t still attacking your bud like it personally betrayed him.

Eventually he hums from between your trembling legs, gives two more long broad swipes up your pussy that make your breath hitch, presses a kiss to your clit, and then pulls himself away. The cool air hitting your skin is a disappointing but instant balm, however, so at least there’s that.

You managed to get the question out but whether post-nut clarity would’ve hit in time for you to elaborate on it is a different thing entirely. It’s for the best. With a sigh you turn around.

The large man’s just kneeling on the floor, and still tasting you on his tongue if the delirious look in his eyes is anything to go by. Despite your confusion it makes you smile.

“Jay? You gonna answer me?”

He licks his lips slowly and drags his gaze up, taking his time unashamedly going over your naked form, till you lock eyes. It’s a little intense. His eyes are usually blue with flecks of green swirling around in them but the green overwhelms his eyes whenever he’s amped up, the last remnants of the pit within him. It’s teal that bores into your brown and you shiver.

The shrug he gives you is so nonchalant it throws you off for a second and you find yourself giving an amused scoff.

“Dick told me something earlier,” he rumbles. It’s because he was just neck deep in your pussy you know that but shit if it doesn’t make your face heat up.

A nod from you and he keeps talking, clearing his throat.

“You told him we were -ah- seeing each other?”

Oh. Oh.

The veil of blissful release leaves you in seconds and you sit up fully with a wave of your hands. In your rush the tentative (because of a certain jackass interrupting your night routine) hold your bonnet has on your head gives way and the satin lands in a heap beside you.

“Shit! I’m sorry Jay, I just responded I wasn’t even thinking. It’s just we have technically been seeing each other for a while and it slipped out…”

At the look on his face you trail off. He’s smiling. At you. Not with his I’m-deflecting-and-full-of-shit smile either.

A small quirk of his lips and then he eases out of the kneel and into your space in one effortless swoop.

“I’m not mad or anything,” he shrugs and glances away. “Just- you meant it right?”

You let out a puff of air and your own smile rises, pulse ratcheting down. “Yeah I meant it, you fucking dork. I claim you once and you rush to make me cum?”

Jason rises with a huff of laughter, hands wrapping around your waist and gliding over your rich skin with the tenderness someone might handle porcelain figurines. The sharp urge to kiss him makes itself known and you don’t fight it, bending down to meet him halfway like you need it to survive.

The way your lips connect makes your heart fucking flutter and you can’t be alone in that if the smile you can feel pressed against your mouth has any say.

How he looks at you when you separate, hard gaze gone soft, is even better.

“I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate it,” he inclines his head. “And you.”

Jesus, this man was gonna make you pass out if he kept making your heart flip like this.

“Well consider me very appreciated, Jay,” you peck him on the lips before huffing and moving to shove at his shoulder. He doesn’t remotely budge but it’s the principle of the matter. “Now go clean up and get to your debriefing, you know how Bruce gets.”

Jason rolls his eyes as he rocks back and runs his hand through his hair, white streak catching briefly.

“B can kiss my ass,” the smile he throws your way this time is tinged with suggestion as his voice drops. “I have way better things to be doing right now, Beautiful.”

A cool wonderful thrill goes up your spine at the promise in his gaze but you refuse to get caught up in it. So what if the way you kiss him after is a little desperate. He’s earned it.

“As amazing as that sounds,” you say against his lips, hand holding onto his jaw so he won’t chase your mouth for any more. “It’s not happening until I know I can thank you properly without a bat or a bird scratching at my window. Understood?”

He groans and gives you a pleading look you know you’ll be drawing out of him later, but you only press another kiss to the tip of his nose before pushing his face away from you.

“Oh, come on!” He gets up and leaves though. Eventually, and with a hard on after you’ve made out for twenty more minutes and damn near made him cum in his pants.

NOTES: as per usual hope you enjoyed! (ps: I rewrote it just a little since I had to rushed to get it out on Halloween but, yeah. I needed to add the flavor real quick.)

EDIT: Slightly rewritten again on 1/17/23❤️

#jason todd #red hood #black!reader #black y/n #jason todd x black!reader #red hood x black!reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #x black!reader #red hood imagine #18+ #jason todd smut

[evansbby]

𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐞𝐬 {𝐩𝐨𝐲𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞}

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, noncon, dubcon, daddy!kink, hardcore misogyny, degradation, possessive Steve, inebriation, mentions of alcohol. MINORS, DNI.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve throws a Halloween party and you try your hardest to be the perfect little host. {happy spooky szn, everyone!! this poyt drabble is a halloween special, set after Steve mated with Omega, and has no effect to the plot/main story of preying on you tonight}

“What the fuck is this?”

The abrupt sound of Steve’s voice makes your blood run cold, the orange and black crepe paper slipping from your hands and dropping to the floor.

“Steve, I… uh.” Daring to meet his heated gaze, your heart pitter-patters pathetically and you immediately avert your eyes, staring at the ground and fingers fidgeting nervously.

“Hi, Steve!” Natasha says brightly, giving the alpha a huge smile. She’s sat cross-legged next to you, sorting through a bunch of sparkly jack-o-lantern wall stickers that she’d brought over with her. You’re both on the floor in Steve’s and your bedroom, sorting through various party decorations.

He glowers at her before turning back to you, “What’s she doing here?”

“She’s… she’s just…” It’s not an ideal moment for your stutter to flare up, but Steve looks so annoyed. And you knew he’d be like this the moment Natasha showed up at your doorstep with a peppy smile and a bunch of Halloween decorations in her arms, matching the ones you’d bought just this morning.

Steve, Bucky and Sam were hosting a Halloween party tonight. Steve had only just informed you yesterday, and in the early hours of the morning, while Steve was at football practice, you’d gone to the nearby party shop to stock up on decorations. Because parties needed decorations, right? And the three alphas hadn’t really done much to spruce up the place. In fact, you’d spent the majority of the afternoon vacuuming and cleaning the downstairs area before Natasha had shown up to help you.

“We’re making streamers, duh.” Natasha blinks up at Steve innocently, but her nonchalance seems to wind him up even more.

“Omega.” Steve gives you a stern look, and immediately you stand up, scurrying over to him. He puts a heavy arm around your shoulders, crushing you into his chest. “You know you’re not allowed to have people over.”

You’re about to apologise before Natasha pipes up.

“Relax, Steve. I came over unannounced. Thor told me about the party and I thought she could use some help since I doubt that you’ll be doing any decorating.”

Steve doesn’t even look at her, but you can see his eyes flashing with annoyance. And you know why he’s mad too. Steve likes to have you ready and waiting for him on his bed when he comes home all riled up from football practice. Carnal, sweaty, amped up and filled with testosterone and pent-up aggression, he usually fucks you hard and fast when he gets home, before dragging you to the shower for more sex. But he can’t quite do any of that with Natasha here.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.” Natasha says from across the room, making Steve glare at her with blazing eyes. If looks could kill…

“Maybe you should keep your mouth shut and just observe.” He jeers, “Learn how a well-trained omega is supposed to act around an alpha.” He tightens his grip on you, making a show of reaching down to squeeze your ass. You yelp helplessly, wishing he wouldn’t do that in front of her.

“Congratulations, Steve. You run such a strict regime that she’s literally afraid of you.” Natasha rolls her eyes, her voice dripping in sarcasm. But she bites her lip and shoots you an apologetic look when she sees you wince.

You know Natasha’s dynamic with Thor – her alpha boyfriend – is a lot different from you and Steve. You’ve seen her make fun of him, roll her eyes at him, and even raise her voice at him. You could never do any of that with Steve – but was it that obvious that you were afraid of him?

“I’m gonna go put the streamers up downstairs.” Natasha says, quickly getting to her feet and skipping over to the door. She turns back to pointedly look at you, ignoring Steve, “You can join me later and help me with the balloons.”

The door has only just closed behind her and Steve’s already dragging you to the bed, sitting down with his muscular thighs spread, and pulling you onto his lap.

“What is all this?” He gestures at the decorations strewn about on the floor.

You squirm, “I just thought that we’d need some decorations for your party. But I can tell Natasha to take them down if you don’t like them.”

He frowns, “Did you buy all this yourself?”

“Yes.”

“How many times have I told you to use my card when you’re buying things?” He grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tugging upwards till you’re looking at him.

“I…I have my own money, Steve.” Well, not much of it ever since he made you quite your job. But your bank balance never decreased, seeing as Steve paid for literally everything for you; from your food to your clothes to your shoes and everything in between.

He doesn’t answer, instead reaching into his pocket for his phone and tapping away. Not ten seconds later, you feel your own phone vibrate.

Steve R. transferred you $200

Your eyes widen, “The decorations didn’t cost that much–”

You’re interrupted by his lips pressing down on yours, large hands cradling your face gently as he kisses you. And if you could replay it every time he kissed you, just replay it in slow-motion, you would do it a hundred times over. It’s insane how the butterflies erupt in the depths of your tummy as he draws you closer still, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip.

“An omega is not meant to pay for anything – it’s the responsibility of her alpha to take care of her.” He says against your lips before pecking you a few more times, “But it’s pretty cute, you know. You going on a little grocery run for the party.”

You nod, “I tried to think of everything we’d need. I’ve never hosted a party before so I wasn’t sure.” You pause, “Sorry, I know I’m not hosting this party. It’s your party.” You shake your head, averting your gaze from his because looking at him too long makes you all nervous and squirmy.

“I – uh – I got all kinds of decorations from the Halloween section – like streamers and balloons and whatnot. Natasha got some too.” You try not to get distracted by his finger sensually tracing shapes on your thigh. “I also got snacks. Like chips and popcorn and soda. I was also going to bake cupcakes with orange and black frosting but I didn’t have time. I’m sorry. But I got store-bought ones that look pretty good.”

Steve stares at you for a prolonged period of time during which about a million concerns surface inside your head. Had you done too much? Had you not done enough? But you breathe a sigh of relief when he leans down to cover your face in kisses, his lips sponging from the corner of your mouth before dipping down to nip at your jaw and finally finding their place on his mark on your neck.

“Look at you, running errands like a perfect little housewife.” Steve pinches your cheek condescendingly, “I always knew you were such a good little omega, baby. I’m proud of you.”

Proud. You glow at his praise, subconsciously nuzzling your cheek against the warm palm of his hand, chirping happily when he strokes you. It’s insane how much his praise and approval means to you, with the omega inside of you bursting with joy at the fact that you’ve pleased your alpha. You always want to please him. You want to make him even more proud.

“I also bought some party games,” You add shyly, hoping he’ll approve. “There’s a pin-the-hat-on-the-witch and there’s also bobbing for apples, and–”

Your voice cuts off when you hear what sounds like a suppressed laugh. Glancing up at Steve, you see the corner of his mouth quirk upward, and a sparkle in his eye. Immediately, you shut your mouth, heat rising in your cheeks and heart wilting. Was he laughing at you?

“On second thought, the games sound babyish. I’m sorry.” You mumble, mentally kicking yourself at even bringing it up. It didn’t help that the last time you’d been to a Halloween party was back when you were in elementary school.

“I’d like to see you bob for apples,” He teases, reaching down to squeeze your ass. But he says nothing more about it, continuing to make out with you until you’re both unceremoniously interrupted by Natasha’s bellowing voice carrying from downstairs.

“COULD SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME, I CAN’T REACH HIGH ENOUGH TO STICK THE STREAMERS!”

“She’s a fucking pain in the ass,” Steve says darkly, “Nothing but trouble. If I gave more of a fuck, I’d speak to Thor about keeping her in check. But it’s a good thing he hasn’t marked her – she’s a cheap whore anyways. Nothing like you, baby. And I don’t want you getting influenced by her bullshit.”

“She was just helping me.” You say softly, wanting to add that Natasha’s the first and only person at this university who’s actually been nice to you and treated you like an equal.

“I don’t care, omega. She’s not setting a good example for you and you’re not allowed to hang out with her anymore, do I make myself clear?”

It’s horrifically unfair, but Steve’s scent is so overpowering, so persuading in making you listen to him. And so you nod, hoping that maybe later he’d come around. You don’t want to lose Natasha as a friend. As pathetic as it sounds, she’s kind of your only friend.

“Good girl. Now get on your knees. I’ve had a long day and it’d be good to unwind before the party tonight.”

“But Steve, I gotta decorate–”

The look on his face is enough to get you scrambling down to your knees in record time. And it’s a little later, when he’s got a death grip in your hair and your mouth suckling on his balls while his heavy dick rests on your face, that he asks you casually, “What’s your costume going to be?”

You come up for air, breathing hard and trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs. “Oh, it’s – uh – it’s a surprise.” Even you don’t know what your costume is yet because Natasha had taken it upon herself to provide one for you. She’d said all would be revealed tonight, and a costume was the least of your worries.

Steve – surprisingly – doesn’t question this, instead guiding your head back down on his cock, bobbing it up and down and throwing his head back, a low hiss escaping his lips.

“Whatever. Just remember to check with me beforehand. I need to approve of whatever you’re wearing before anyone else sees it, you got that?”

“Yes, daddy.”

***

The party is in full swing, and it’s wilder than you anticipated. Thor walks in with about a dozen sixpacks in tow, with Natasha squealing and jumping on him as soon as he enters. Bucky and Sam have invited what looks to be more than half of the female population at the university, all of them scantily-clad and surrounding the two alphas, hanging off their arms in costumes ranging from sexy kittens to sexy cowgirls to sexy nurses.

Your own costume is prettier than you anticipated; a light pink satin slip dress – almost like lingerie – that flows yet clings to your body in a flattering way. Glittery pink fairy wings are attached to your back, small enough to not get in the way of anything but big enough that one could appreciate the swirling design. See-through nude stockings adorn your legs, complete with lacy trimmed tops accented with ribbons. Dainty glass heels cover your feet, and your makeup’s minimal and glowy, with a lot of body glitter added everywhere. You don’t know how Natasha’s managed to create such a pretty costume for you – but she’s a fashion major after all.

“Steve doesn’t deserve you in this outfit.” Natasha had commented earlier when you’d tried it on, “But that doesn’t mean he won’t go crazy over it.”

And Steve had gone crazy over it, inspecting each and every angle while you stood in the middle of the room like a piece of meat at the butcher’s shop. He couldn’t help but squeeze your ass, fondle your breasts, tug your dress up to “check what panties you were wearing” as well as a lot of other things. Finally, he’d resorted to dragging you to the bed, pushing you down on your hands and knees, flipping your dress up and fucking you right then and there.

“M-My costume– it’s gonna get ruined!” You’d cried, but to no avail.

“Fuck, my little baby omega, think you can dress up like some sexy fucking fairy and your daddy won’t fuck you in your little costume, huh?” He’d said through gritted teeth, grabbing your flimsy little wings and pushing them to the side so he could press down on your back. “The only way you can be seen in this outfit is if you looked freshly fucked – so everyone knows exactly who your daddy is, you got that?”

Now your wings were permanently crooked and you had a slight limp in your step, but at least Steve had allowed you to wear the fairy outfit to the party downstairs. Granted, he had his arm around you the whole time, showing you off obnoxiously like you were some kind of shiny object.

“Isn’t she cute, Barber? You should’ve seen her earlier, trying to put up the decorations but she was too little to reach.”

“She cooks, she cleans, and she looks like a million bucks. Can’t say the same about your omega, huh, Curtis?”

“Don’t fucking look at my girlfriend, Jensen. Who even invited you, anyways? Get the fuck out of my sight. Go bob for apples or some shit.”

You sigh, watching poor Jake Jensen’s face fall as he retreats to the corner of the room where the crate of apples is situated all on its lonesome. No one else is really indulging in your party games; in fact, you’d seen someone rip the pin-the-hat-on-the-witch clean in half – which wasn’t nice at all.

On top of that, your Halloween cupcakes were currently mush on the ground, someone had stepped and trodden on them, which made you sad. Even your punch – which you had so painstakingly mixed until it was perfect – tasted kind of funny. You were on your second cup, hoping that you were just imagining the bitter taste of the drink.

“Steve, this tastes funny,” You mumble softly, tugging at your boyfriend’s sleeve. For his Halloween costume, he was just wearing his football jersey and claiming to be a “football player.” Less than minimum effort, but a bunch of girls had gushed and squealed, telling him how good he looked. Steve had ignored them, but that didn’t stop the omega inside of you going green with a strong sense of jealous territorialism.

Even Steve Junior’s costume was more creative than Steve’s. You’d had a black and white striped shirt that had shrank in the wash, and to your glee, it fit your stuffed teddy perfectly.

“He’s a convict!” You’d told Steve proudly, earlier after he’d finished fucking you and you were sitting there trying to catch your breath and straighten your fairy wings, and the alpha had snorted, grabbing the teddy by the neck.

“Oh yeah? What’d he get arrested for? Watching us fuck?”

“No!” You’d answered, completely appalled.

Steve had laughed, easily keeping the stuffie out of your reach when you’d lunged to grab it, “You’re a little pervert, aren’t you, Steve Junior?” And Steve Junior’s coal black eyes had only stared blankly at Steve before you’d snatched him back.

At least now, the stuffie was safe upstairs in the bedroom. The same couldn’t be said about you, however, downstairs in the midst of a party that only seemed to be getting wilder. You’re on Steve’s lap, his hand laid down on your bare thigh possessively as he downs a beer and laughs at whatever he and his friends are talking about. How they can talk when the music is so pulsating and loud is beyond you.

“Shhh, baby, just drink your punch.” He says, pressing a kiss on your lips before continuing his conversation.

You pout, “But it doesn’t taste right–”

Your quiet complaint is drowned out by the noise of the party and you sigh, feeling slightly dizzy as you try to reposition yourself on Steve’s lap. But that only makes your alpha growl lowly, gripping you tighter and thrusting his hips up against your ass – right in front of everyone, no less! Normally, you would’ve begged him not to do that but right now you feel weirdly slow and sluggish… and kind of horny. Wait, what?

“Stop fidgeting or else I’m gonna have to fuck you right here in front of everyone.” Steve whispers in your ear through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, daddy, didn’t mean to!” You cry not-so-softly, trying to grab on to his leg to steady yourself before realisation hits you like a bucket of icy cold water dumped unceremoniously onto your head. Did you just call him “daddy” right here? Out in the open? In front of everyone?

There’s a moment of silence, and then…

“Oh, so you’re daddy huh?” Andy barks out a laugh, nudging Steve.

Sam rolls his eyes, “I’ve heard worse. I keep telling him the walls are thin.”

“Look at her now, trying to hide under her daddy’s jersey!” Ransom hoots with laughter, making you freeze in the middle of trying to tug the sleeve of Steve’s jersey over your face.

“Stop looking at my girlfriend, Drysdale.” Steve shoots back, but he looks smugger than ever, clearly unperturbed by your little slip-up as he smooths your hair back condescendingly. You feel absolutely mortified – what the hell is wrong with you? Why do you feel so disoriented and less in control of yourself??

You take another large gulp of your punch before standing up.

“Bathroom.” You tell Steve before stumbling off, thanking your lucky stars when he doesn’t pull you back.

All around you, there’s bodies dancing to the pulsating music, and you try to dodge them but it proves to be difficult in your disoriented state. Suddenly, the bathroom seems so far away, when you remember it being only about a few steps outside of the living room. There are too many people, too much noise, too much chaos. You can’t even hear your heartbeat thanks to the thumping music, and you feel the sudden need to go back to Steve and his protective warmth.

Turning back, you see Natasha and Thor have joined Steve’s group. Thor’s wearing some kind of Norse God costume (as he’d excitedly told you when he’d first walked in) and Natasha looks amazing in her cheerleading outfit, the colours of her costume matching Steve’s football jersey.

“They’ve fucked, you know.”

You jump at the voice in your ear and the hand that presses down against the small of your back. A flash of light blue eyes and the flurry of a black cape. It’s Bucky, dressed up as Count Dracula, complete with fake blood dripping down the side of his mouth. For a split-second, you’re reminded of the night Steve had marked you; his bite, the blood, the pain…

You blink stupidly, “What?”

“Steve and Natasha. He’s fucked her.” Bucky smirks, his hand still on your back, stroking up and down but you’ve yet to register it, “What, Steve didn’t tell you? I thought he or Nat would have… seeing as she’s now your friend and all…”

Now it feels like your head is spinning, and you sway slightly in your heels, unwittingly gripping Bucky’s arm to steady yourself. You glance back at Steve, who’s too busy laughing with his friends while Natasha looks at him in disgust, shaking her head and grabbing Thor’s hand.

You know it shouldn’t affect you, that it must have been from before you and Steve had got together… But why hadn’t Steve told you? Why hadn’t Natasha told you? Face crumpling, you back away even further, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

“Hey, you don’t look too good. Why don’t you come into my room and lie down for a second. Steve won’t mind.” Bucky tries to grab your wrist but you slip out of his grip, turning on your heel and stumbling towards the bathroom, trying not to get swallowed up by the sea of writhing bodies.

You don’t know how long you sit in the bathroom, on the toilet seat with your head in your hands. But Steve finds you there after a while, coming in and locking the door behind him.

“Did you die in here? It’s been twenty minutes.”

You sigh, but say nothing else. Steve doesn’t seem to like that, however, grabbing your wrist and yanking you up to your feet and tapping your cheek lightly, “I expect you to answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“I’m not having fun.” You say softly, wanting Steve Junior except he’s upstairs and going upstairs right now seems like an impossible feat of physical and mental strength.

“Oh yeah?” Steve eyes you up and down, licking his lips when his gaze zeroes in on one of your dress straps slipping down your shoulder. “You wanna fuck?”

“All the decorations are torn and ruined, my fairy wings are crooked, nobody’s playing bob for apples or pin-the-tale-on-the-bitch – I mean witch – and no one ate the cupcakes and…and…and,” you hiccup, choking back a sob, “and my punch tasted weird! I hate this party an’ I hate Halloween!”

Steve cups your face between his hands, tipping it upwards and surveying you carefully before a smirk spreads across his features. “You’re drunk.”

“Wha–”

“Mmhm, I think someone might have spiked the punch. Your pupils are completely dilated.”

Cold terror courses through you, and you grip his hands which are holding your face, “D-Don’t wanna be drunk, Steve! Don’t like being drunk!”

He snorts, “Relax. A little buzz won’t hurt you. And anyways,” He shoots you a devilish smirk, backing you up until your back hits the marble sink, and he picks you up and places you on top of it, stepping between your spread legs. “Baby omegas like you tend to get horny when they’re drunk. Good thing your daddy’s here to help you out with that…”

“No!” You cry, and it’s something you never would’ve done if you were sober, “don’t want to, Steve! You slept with Natasha!”

Steve, who’s in the middle of pushing your straps down your arms and kissing up your neck, stops short, regarding you carefully, “Who told you that?”

For the life of you, you can’t seem to remember. Who had told you? Everything seems foggy, but Steve hasn’t denied it, so you soldier on: “Don’t remember who told me, but...but…but, you–”

“Yeah, I did.” Steve cuts you off, before flipping your dress up and bunching it around your waist, his hand going straight between your legs as his lips return to your neck, lapping against your jagged mark. You gasp – either at what he’s said or the feel of his fingers ripping your panties in half, you’re not sure.

“Mm, you’re so fucking hot, baby,” Steve murmurs against your skin, almost as if he hasn’t just confessed to doing exactly what you accused him of. His thumb and forefinger pinch your clit and you jump, “My little baby fairy, all drunk and innocent, waiting for daddy to take care of you, huh?”

“Steve,” you whine, not wanting to fall victim to his expert touch, how he knows your body so well. Pushing your dress down and exposing your breasts, his mouth immediately latches on to your nipple, and you resist the urge to moan, “Steve, please! You… you and Nat… you–”

Steve groans in exasperation, giving your nipple a hearty suck before lifting his head back up, looking half bored and half annoyed. “It’s not that serious, omega. It happened years ago, just forget it.”

You pout and he sighs.

“It was freshman year, okay? I barely remember fucking her. Bucky fucked her too. And Sam. In fact, she’s gone through the entire football team. I told you she’s a cheap whore – nothing like you – and this is why.”

Your mouth drops open, even in your drunken state, you don’t like how he’s talking about her.

“You’re my perfect little baby, all pure and innocent,” Steve coos, pinching your cheek before kissing you, pressing his leg between your thighs and grinding it forward, making you gasp and grab hold of his strong arms. “This is why you’re different from them, omega. In your cute little fairy dress while the rest of those sluts out there are dressed like trashy whores.”

You hate how he’s talking, hate how horrifically misogynistic him and his friends all are. Because your dress is practically lingerie – you’re just as scantily clad as the other girls at the party. But his scent is distracting you, as is the alcohol pumping in your system, making you needy, making your carnal want for him amplify times ten.

“Gonna fuck you in your little fairy dress again, baby.” Steve informs you, turning you around abruptly and giving your bare ass a harsh slap. Your poor panties lie ripped up somewhere on the floor, but that’s the least of your concerns as Steve pushes you down till you’re lying flat on the sink top, your ass in the air and Steve’s dick in his hand.

“Can’t get enough of you in this little get-up. And I just know all the guys are so fucking jealous. They all wanna fuck you, but they can’t. Only I get to see you like this. My baby omega, bent over and getting fucked like it’s your job.” He gives your ass another harsh slap before entering you, and you gasp, gripping onto the counter, all the drunken worries slowly dissipating as your head goes empty when you feel his fat dick against your tight walls.

“Look at you, head’s already going empty, huh?”

“Mm, daddy,” you mewl.

“That’s right, forget about everything else. You did so good, omega, planning your first Halloween party. You made me so proud, baby, so you can stop thinking now. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

THE END! I know that was kind of an abrupt ending but trust me, i had to end it somewhere otherwise i would’ve kept going! i was just in the mood to write something on theme for october for this pairing, so there we go! PLEASE, please, please do let me know what you think! Feedback is so so SO appreciated!! Also, POYT 4 is coming very soon, i’m almost done with it! i just love writing poyt drabbles sometimes too! Please let me know what you think, and i hope you enjoyed! thank you!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #poyt drabble

[abominable-space-they]

Another Au centered around music & punk Steve(sorta) bc of Steddie twt talking abt switching it up to celebrity Steve & just some guy Eddie.

I do love a good trope reversal

Underground Metal Eddie x (pop)punk Steve

Eddie working at a guitar shop that mostly catered to metal & hard rock musicians with a preference for a certain crunchy sound.

Since he was into a very specific niche of gay power & thrash metal, Eddie didn't know Steve was a pop punk star when they meet

He knew who Stevie Dynamite was, of course he did, everyone did. He knew that the guy debuted at 15, was supposed to be some musical genius who could play any instrument.

Eddie remembered the early songs because they were so personal, haunting little folk proto punk songs w/ a glam pop edge about identity, isolation, & loneliness. They weren't his thing but they were better then the usual radio fare.

Three years later after a series of salacious magazine spreads, notoriously explosive deals with several different make-up and high end hair care lines, more scandals then you could count, public partying, public meltdowns, cancelled shows, article after article abt the King of Pop Rock losing his touch, a mediocre album full of bubble gum party till you drop songs, and open speculation abt the nature of his relationship with indie pop darling Birdie (but Eddie knows that's not what ppl think it is. Her music is wall to wall barely subtle sapphic yearning, if there's one thing he knows it's gay subtext)

The rumors got louder & more dramatic until, five years after he rocketed to superstardom Stevie Dynamite publicly sued his label & parents for control of his image & brand.

He won

Then he quietly disappeared.

Thus was the end of the bigger then life legend of Stevie Dynamite

So when Steve Harrington walked into the guitar store on some lazy Monday afternoon while Eddie was sitting behind the counter working on a song in his downtime. He had no idea who Steve was.

When the unknown hot guy in a Violent Femmes hoodie & a plain black beanie struck up a conversation about Eddie's lyrics he thought Steve was just another life long grind musician wanting to talk shop

When the guy introduced himself as Steve, Eddie didn't think anything in particular about it

When Steve seemed to be flirting a little Eddie chalked it up to the guy wanting a discount on whatever he was in to buy.

When he dragged Stevie Dynamite viscously for being an absolute fake from top to bottom, when one of his newer songs came on the shop radio, Eddie laughed and agreed.

When Steve asked Eddie for help choosing a guitar with a very particular pensive but angry victorious sound he was happy to help (Steve paid full price & if he was annoyed he didn't show it)

When the guy came in again next monday for a new amp, and the Monday after that for new strings Eddie was confused but happy to see him

When Steve came in the Monday after that asking for help with the writing of a song, a service he would be happy to pay for, Eddie said yes against his better judgement. He knew he was well and truly fucked by the happy burbling in his stomach at the thought of creating music with this incredibly hot man.

When they spent six months of Mondays holed up in the break room working on lyrics, Eddie tried not to examine what it meant.

And when Steve abruptly didn't come by one Monday, Eddie had no idea what the hell happened but he was disappointed.

When one Monday no show, became two, then three, Eddie decided he must've been ghosted, he picked his embarrassingly broken heart up off the floor and kept going, resigned to never knowing what happened with Steve.

In fact Eddie had no idea that Steve Harrington was Stevie Dynamite until the first royalty check came in with a $ number so high, Eddie thought he probably died without realizing it. He'd never even dreamed of holding that much money in his hand at one time.

The check was from Dynamite Records?!?!?! Stevie Dynamite's personal label?!?!

Through a haze Eddie remembered that a a few weeks ago Stevie Dynamite had released his first post corporate divorce album to a tidal wave of media fanfare and critical acclaim. Everyone who had an opinion about music swore the real Stevie Dynamite was back on top again. Eddie barely noticed it, he'd been to busy not caring that Steve ghosted him to pay attention to yet another meaningless corporate shill telling him to dance all night

He called the corporate number on the check

"Dynamite Records, Jonathan Byers speaking, how may I help you?"

"uhh yeah man, I think there's been some sort of mix up. I uhh-, Look my name is Eddie Munson & as much as I would love to keep this check. It couldn't possibly be for me and I really don't want to get sent to prison for check fraud so maybe someone should come and get it or something."

The man, on the either end of the line immediately relaxed into a more casual manner.

"Eddie hey man, I've heard so much about you. It's definitely not a mistake, he wanted you to have credit since you guys wrote the songs together."

"uhh not to seem totally clueless or whatever Mr Byers, but umm He who?"

"Jonathan is actually totally fine, we're all family here right? Stevie Dynamite of course"

"Ok, but how in the world does Stevie Dynamite know me & why would he want me to get writing royalties on his new songs?"

"... Fuck...He still hasn't told you has he?"

"told me what?"

Jonathan sighed a kindly exasperated sigh on the other end of the line.

"Eddie have you looked at the new Stevie Dynamite album?"

"No-, I uhh no offense or anything it's just glam rock pop punk isn't really my thing."

"it's fine, it's not mine either-, hmm well are you at work? No of course you are that's where we sent the check. He didn't know your home address. You know, I should've known he didn't tell you now that I think about it. Why don't you go take a peek, pay specifical attention to the dedication. I'll wait here."

Eddie heard some rustling as Jonathan leaned back, talking to someone else apparently.

"Argyle, babe, you wouldn't believe this. He still hasn't told Eddie."

Even further away he heard a good natured huff of laughter.

"Bro? No shit. Man... Babe, your ex is so beautifully weird. I wish I found out a pop star was in love with me w/ a fat check and an album full of love songs. Stevie boy has style at least... wanna hit this?"

What the hell was that all about? If they were getting high he might as well just go look at the album right? Right. No time like the present.

Eddie didn't know why he was so nervous

The album cover wasn't anything remarkable, tattoo flash art of a nail bat, a weird flower full of serrated teeth, and a guitar. It was called "Stevie Dynamite: Love, Death, and a Baseball Bat Named Baby"

Inside there was a lot of concept photography, Stevie Dynamite after a show, make-up smeared, staring into a mirror with empty eyes. Each page of lyrics had a new picture of Stevie with some of the glamorous accoutrements removed staring at himself in the mirror, first he took off his shiny rock and roll lace top, then he replaced his leather pants with sweats, the next he had on an old beat up violent femmes hoodie, lastly he took off all the flashy metallic glam rock make up.

The last picture was just Stevie Dynamite, No, Steve Harrington, his Steve Harrington fresh faced, staring into the camera with a note superimposed, written in loopy feminine handwriting, the dedication.

'To Eddie who's inspired me since the day I met him, who never gave a damn about Stevie Dynamite'a fame or reputation, who was kind to me because that's just who he is.

To Eddie who helped me find my love of music again, reminded me why I was here in the first place, and helped me write the most sincere and meaningful songs I ever have.

To the Eddie I was so afraid of losing to the gossip machine I couldn't quite tell the truth.

All those dumb love songs that you were always teasing me about writing were for you Eddie. No matter what, you deserve to know that. I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me.

I love you,

Stevie Dynamite

(but you can still call me Steve if you want to)'

Eddie felt faint again. He picked the phone back up

"What the fuck Jonathan?"

"Yeah, man what the fuck. But that's our boy Stevie, passionate, loyal to death and back, more than a little impulsive, and terrified of his feelings. Once he decides he loves you, he's impossible to shake. I'm so sorry he sprang this on you like this man, but Argyle's almost done getting him ready. I'll send him your way when we're done ok?"

Eddie wasn't sure what he was agreeing to but he still agreed.

20 minutes later a leather clad pop rock god, slouched in, looked around from behind his dark sunglasses with disinterested affected distance, pushed those sunglasses up onto his head and magically transmogrified into Steve Harrington, the guy he'd been pining over for a month. They both sat in silence, each afraid to go first. Finally Steve cleared his throat and broke the oppressive quiet

"I'm sorry I stopped coming by, I was so afraid that once you knew you'd only see Stevie, not me anymore. I couldn't bear losing another person I loved to him. God he sucks."

"But... you're Stevie Dynamite right? I haven't hallucinated all this, right?

"No no, you definitely didn't. I mean, yeah technically I'm him, but he's still the worst. I kinda hate him"

"uhhh...."

"I know it's weird"

"No I get it-, I think,-, trapped in reputations of our own making and all-, but uhhh... You love me?"

"Yeah Eddie of course! How could I do anything else but love you? Didn't you listen to the album?"

"uhh-, well-, No? Glam Rock Pop Punk just isn't my thing"

To Eddie's surprise, Steve broke out in a radiant smile.

"Of course you didn't, what was I thinking? All that worry for nothing. I'm so-... Hey I'm about to go play a private vip show to celebrate the album's success, you want to come? I promise I'll explain everything-, No pressure though!"

Eddie still wasn't sure exactly what he was agreeing to, but couldn't even feel to bad about it when Steve blushed, radiant, bigger then life, like a rock god, as he pulled Eddie out the door.

Right then and there Eddie made a pact with himself to keep saying yes to Steve as long as Steve bothered to ask. He was to precious not to.

#stranger things #fanfic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #stranger things au #fluff #punk steve au #punk steve harrington #punk au #pop star au #rocker!eddie #punk!steve #slow burn #stranger things music au #steve stranger things #stranger things eddie

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 7

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 7/? 4.1k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Reality — something that Eddie is uncomfortably familiar with.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: weed, angst, sibling death mention

Eddie held a joint between his lips, the paper wetting in his mouth as he tapped out a melody on the fretboard of his warlock, fingers making contact with the strings at a feverish pace. He took a long drag, exhaling the smoke through his nose. The ash on the end of it was dangerously long, threatening to drop onto his bedsheets at any moment. 

He paused, reaching over toward his nightstand to tap off the excess into the crowded ashtray and instead knocked over two empty Mountain Dew cans. They sputtered drops of sticky liquid onto his magazines before clattering onto the floor. Eddie cursed. He sighed and reached down into the abyss between his nightstand and the bed to retrieve them, cringing at whatever else may have fallen down there that he had long forgotten about.

It was 2:30 on a Sunday afternoon and Eddie had been awake for all of two hours. There was a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. A feeling that he was all too familiar with on Sundays. He returned his hands to the fretboard and noodled around with the strings, tapping out the melody again as the tingle of the drug washed over him. 

He glanced over toward his backpack slumped in the corner by the desk. It was 2:30 on a Sunday afternoon and he had not even thought about his homework. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had thought about it. Quite a few times actually. 

Yesterday he thought about while he was hunkered over the monster manual that he had to reach into his backpack to retrieve. He thought about it while he was at band practice last night too. And again while he was at the gas station at one in the morning, loading up with cigarettes and twinkies. He even thought about it while he was devouring them in front of his television.

He didn’t think about it at all on Friday night though. Well he kind of did, but that’s because he was mostly thinking about you and it just sort of came with the territory. He was mostly thinking about the way his hands felt around your waist, the one he had been itching to touch for two months now. He thought about the way your body felt in his arms, so warm and soft and real.

He thought if he could play it over and over again in his mind that he could exist in the moment for longer than he was given. He wondered when he would be given another. If he would be given another.

He thought about you, out with your friends at a bar he wasn’t even old enough to drink at. He thought about how often you went out like that, and how many times it would be before someone else saw you the same way he did.

His finger slipped and he muttered a curse at the sour note. He adjusted his headphones and glanced around the room. 

There was a pile of clothes at the foot of his closet that had been there for almost a month now. A pile of records in front of the cabinet meant to contain them for even longer. The dust was starting to collect on the top of his amp beside it. He couldn’t even remember the last time he vacuumed.

He wondered what your home looked like. If you had a pile of records too or if yours all had homes like they were supposed to. He wondered what sort furniture you had, if you had any posters or paintings or empty Mountain Dew cans sitting around collecting dust.

Probably not. 

His stomach growled. He had barely left his bed let alone eaten anything yet today. He peeled off his headphones and set his guitar to the side as he climbed out of the warm comfort of his bed. He opened his bedroom door quietly and padded down the short hallway into the kitchen. The linoleum floor was cold against his bare feet. 

He opened the fridge door slowly, careful not to wake Wayne sleeping in the dark living room. He glanced over the milk, eggs, and sparse condiments, spying a plastic bag with leftover once-frozen pizza inside. There were two pieces left.

Eddie glanced over toward the living room, hearing Wayne softly snoring on the fold-away bed. He looked back at the bag of pizza and grabbed it before quietly shutting the fridge.

There was a pang of guilt that came over him as he crept back down the hall toward the lighted door of his bedroom. Guilt for taking the last of it. The pizza. The bedroom.

He shut the door softly and returned to the warmth of his bed, folding his legs under him as he peeled back the plastic baggie.

Cold pizza always tasted better when he was high. Everything did. The combination of the cheese and the cold red sauce, the chewiness of the crust as he bit into it. Even the little brown sausage nuggets had more flavor.

Eddie sighed as he felt the food travel down his throat and fill his empty stomach. 

He thought about you again, wondered what you were doing at that moment in time. He thought about you making lunch in your kitchen. Probably a sandwich, or a salad — something healthy. You probably ate it at a table, even wiped it down after you were done. He thought about you in your quiet apartment all by yourself and wondered if you thought about him too.

He wasn’t entirely sure you returned his feelings. Not like how he felt about you anyway. He swore he could feel it though, there was something. Something about the way you sighed when he held you, how easily your body pressed to his, like it wanted to be there. It was the way you never drew away when he drew closer. The way you looked at him. The way you laughed at his jokes and watched him as he left the parking lot. 

Eddie glanced at his backpack slumped over by his desk.

He picked a few crumbs off of his sweatpants and sprinkled them onto the floor, taking care that they didn’t end up in his bed.

He wondered what you would think if you walked in right now. 

What sort of interest could someone like you possibly have in someone like him?

If there was one thing he was really good at, it was wasting his time.

______

It was a Monday morning and Eddie Munson was tired. Tired of the looks people gave him as they passed him in the hallway. He was tired of waking up early to come to a place that he’d outgrown. Tired of not being good enough to leave it.

He felt his eyes lose focus as he twisted the dial on his locker. It took him three tries before it opened.

He had stayed up entirely too late again. For why, he wasn’t really sure. Maybe to punish himself. He supposed waking up at noon the day before didn’t exactly set himself up for success either.

In his defense he did finally crack open his chemistry textbook at 8 PM, but he might as well have been reading Greek. He stared at at the letters and numbers and formulas until he finally just gave up and tossed it back where it came from.

He did your homework though. He read the final chapters of the book and took notes on them as assigned. There would be a test on Friday and he didn’t want to disappoint you. 

He stared into the contents of his locker, at the crumpled papers already accumulating underneath the pile of textbooks that were strewn about without a home.

Suddenly there was a soft voice that came from the other side of the cold metal. “Hey Eddie.”

Eddie swung the locker door inward. Chrissy Cunningham leaned against the locker next to his, clutching textbooks against her soft white cardigan.

“Hey,” he said, giving her a hesitant look.

“So I hear you can, um,” Chrissy bit her lip in thought, glancing off to the side, “Hook people up with certain things. If you know what I mean.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and grabbed his history textbook before shutting his locker. “Yeah, I know what you mean. What do you need?”

“Well, Tina’s having a Halloween party again this year on Saturday and I was wondering if you could, you know. Deal.”

Eddie thought for a moment. He thought about how much money he had, which was not a lot. Not enough to get the tattoo he’d been wanting for over a month now. He thought about how good it would feel to focus on the prickling sting of the needle driving into his skin for a few hours. It was hard to think about anything else when you were in the chair, and he liked that about it — like a strange meditation. He could use a break from his thoughts lately.

“Yeah, I can deal. What are we talking?”

“Just grass I guess, not trying to kill anybody,” she said with a little chuckle. “People always overdo it at these things.”

Eddie gave a single nod, “I’ve got that.”

Chrissy smiled, “Great, here’s the address,” she said, reaching on top of the books she was carrying to hand him an orange flyer.

He took the paper in his hands, looking at the little hand-drawn ghost with the date, time, and address on it. Come and get sheet faced. 

“I’ll see you there then, yeah?”

Eddie looked up from the paper, creasing it in the center with his thumb before shoving it into his pocket. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Great,” she said. Her eyes glanced over him, scuffing the toe of her white shoe against the tile absentmindedly, “Looking forward to it.”

______

“Harpies don’t have ranged attacks, we’d be better off hitting them with spell damage while you tank them,” said Jeff, flicking his empty milk carton across the table at Mike.

“Their song is ranged, what are you talking about?” Mike retorted, flicking the milk carton back at him.

“That’s not an attack, dumbass,” said Jeff, chuckling.

Dustin glanced over at Mike and interjected. “The song lures you into close range so they can hit you with their talons. And they can do it from a distance, so…”

“But it’s not an attack,” said Gareth with a smirk.

Eddie sighed and swallowed his mouthful of tater tots. “It’s not an attack.”

Jeff laughed. “See?” 

Mike shot Jeff a look, “Well, the spell casters aren’t going to be safe hanging back either way.”

“Guess you’ll just have to hold agro then, Pally,” Jeff said, flicking the milk carton back across the table. The older guys chuckled as the carton tumbled into Mike’s lap.

“Hey uh, by the way, I think we’re gonna have to make band practice later on Saturday,” said Gareth, “My grandma’s in town and we’re doing like… wholesome family shit, you know how it is.”

Eddie wished he could say that he did. “I can’t do it later, I’m going to a Halloween party on Saturday.”

Dustin snorted, “What are you going as?”

“Nothing. It’s, um, a business arrangement,” said Eddie with a look, hoping he would take the hint.

“The one at Tina’s?” asked Gareth, his eyes lighting up.

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Can I come?”

Eddie paused, giving him a puzzled look, “I mean, I guess. I could probably use some help.” And some company, but he would never admit that. “Why do you wanna come so bad?”

There was a gleam in Gareth’s eye, “Cindy’s gonna be there, I saw her with one of those orange flyers in science today.”

A low oooh emanated from the table followed by a nudge from Jeff.

Eddie shot Gareth a look, “Who?”

“Cindy. You know, Cindy Wallace, from the science project?”

Eddie looked unimpressed, “Oh, the one you bailed on us for? Yeah I remember.”

“Yeah well, she’s gonna be there, so,” said Gareth, sitting back in his chair.

Eddie sighed, “Fine, you can come, just don’t make an ass of yourself or I’m leaving you there,” he said decidedly, popping another tater tot into his mouth.

“Cindy can take him home then,” laughed Jeff, nudging Gareth again.

The table erupted in laughter. 

______

Eddie stared down at the chemistry homework that was now past-due as you went over the first equation for the third time. You had been at this for twenty minutes and he was comprehending absolutely none of it.

“It’s kind of like baking a cake, like all the ingredients come together to create this new thing. It’s different than math in that way,” you said gently, “Here, let’s use the equation for water as an example,” you said, scratching it out on the upper lefthand corner of the paper.

The fluorescent lights beat down on him, tiring his eyes even more than they already were. It made his skin feel hot. He hated the lighting in school. It was clinical, and oppressive, and made him want to take a nap. He blinked, watching your hand move across the paper, noting the soft dusting of chalk that still lingered on your knuckles.

“Ok, now let’s apply this same concept to the first equation here.” You scratched out the problem and walked him through solving it step by step.

He followed along, trying his best to pay attention. It was like you were saying words but his brain was not computing.

“Does that make sense?”

He sat back and looked at your handwriting, neat and pretty. None of it connected. “Um,” his eyes bored into the paper, unable to face yours. He was afraid he would look up and see frustration, or even worse — disappointment. 

His face felt hot, his chest like someone had placed a weight there. The numbers and letters blurred in front of him as his voice caught in his throat. 

He felt like an idiot.

He could feel your eyes glance over his face and he worked up the courage to meet them.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, digging his nail into the side of the pencil. He swallowed as he felt the heat rush to his face again, his pulse pounding in his ears. “I’m an idiot, I —” He stared down at the paper again.

He wanted to cry.

“No you’re not,” you said, your voice was warm and kind.

His nose burned as tears threatened behind his eyes and he hated himself for it. Hated himself for feeling like a child. For being unable to solve a basic problem even after all the extra help. Hated himself for still being here after six years. He didn’t know what he did to deserve your patience. He wondered when it would expire or if he was better off just dropping out. Maybe then he could ask you out like a real adult. He didn’t feel like one though. Not right now.

He felt a hand on his back. 

He turned to look at you. The softness in your eyes could have melted him. Your gentle hand moved back and forth between his shoulder blades soothingly and he sighed at the touch. 

“You’re really smart, Eddie. This just isn’t your thing, that’s all.”

You meant it, he could tell.

His eyes were large and wet but his tears obeyed and did not spill over his lashes. “Thanks,” he said softly. “For your patience, for your time, for … everything. I don’t know if I deserve it, but…”

Your hand stopped moving. His heart lurched. He watched as your expression changed, like you were pained all of a sudden. Your pretty mouth twitched, eyes lowering in thought. 

“Please don’t say that. It’s really no trouble, I…” Your eyes darted back and forth between his, laying down words like you were hopping across a stream on small rocks, careful where you landed. “I really like… spending time with you. I…” 

He leaned closer toward you, like a magnet was pulling him. “I like spending time with you too.” He could feel your breath against his cheek. His eyes lowered to your lips, so soft and so close. He wondered what it would feel like to close the gap and snatch them up in his.

Your eyes grew wider and Eddie swore he saw your face turn a deeper shade. He ached when you took your hand away.

“Let’s put this away and work on something else. I think you just need a little break.” You turned back toward your desk, bringing that same hand behind your neck as you cast your eyes downward. “Maybe we can come back to it later, or on Wednesday.” 

Eddie swallowed and glanced away, turning to put his homework back in the beat up folder it came from. His face felt hot all of a sudden.

“So, uh, how was your birthday?” he asked, searching for anything to distract from the nerves twisting in his gut.

“Oh, it was uh,” you tidied your desk, “Fine. It was nice. I listened to the tapes you gave me,” you said, meeting his eyes again.

“Oh yeah?” He perked up.

“Yeah, multiple times actually,” you said, a bashfulness creeping through your smile. “I really liked them.”

“Really?”

“Yes really. I love music that’s driving, you know? Like, it takes you somewhere. It’s got this energy about it that’s really addicting, like it makes you want to move. I can see why you love it so much,” you said. Your eyes were sparkling, the redness in your face fading.

“Which one was your favorite?”

“Favorite song or album?”

“Both. I’m curious.”

You put a curved finger to your lips in thought. He loved it when you did that. “I think I liked Paranoid the best out of the two. And then song, let’s see... I think… War Pigs.”

Eddie blinked, “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a protest song, which I love. It’s the one that really made me pause and think, you know? It’s really true, what they’re talking about. How war is a game played by people who have power and the pieces are the people who don’t, who have no other choice but to be played. It’s a really powerful song. Catchy as hell too.”

Eddie propped his elbow on the desk, resting his cheek against his hand. He was tempted to bring you his entire collection if it meant that he could listen to you talk about them all the way you talked about everything — with careful perception. 

You sighed softly, lowering your eyes before meeting his once more. “You know, I think more people would like it if they really listened.”

There was a tug at his heart. A loud and restless part of him stirred — awakened, acknowledged. “That’s what I’ve been saying,” he said breathlessly. “For years.”

You smiled at him in a way that made him feel something he felt so rarely. Seen.

He twisted at the rings on his fingers.

“Did um, did you do anything fun this weekend?” you asked, tidying a few papers on your desk.

“Nah, besides the usual stuff. Band practice, campaign planning,” he said, trailing off. “Homework,” he added quickly. “How was the rest of yours?”

“Oh, uneventful. Reading, errands… just boring stuff. I tried decorating for Halloween but…” you glanced off to the side and he noticed your brows furrow slightly. “I just haven’t been feeling all that festive this year. It’s weird living alone.”

Eddie nodded solemnly, shifting in his chair. “Yeah, I uh, got invited to a party this weekend but I can’t say I’m really feeling festive either.”

“Oh.” Your face dropped. It happened so quickly that he almost didn’t catch it before you corrected it. “Are you going as anything?” you asked innocently.

“Nah. I’m just… going.” 

He wondered what you’d think if you knew why. You — behind the desk with chalk on your hands and worry in your eyes. You — staying later than required, with no extra pay, for him — a drug dealer.

He cast his eyes downward and thought about his father. A criminal. Only he was in jail and Eddie was free. Free to sell drugs to teenagers. They had more than a few things in common — he couldn’t manage to graduate high school either. 

He kicked himself for even mentioning the party.

There was a deep worry in your eyes, deeper than you could hide. “Please be safe.” 

Eddie leaned closer, “Are you ok?” he asked softly, probing you with his dark eyes.

“Um,” you lowered your eyes again, thumbing at the eraser of the pencil in your hand. “This time of year is… complicated for me.” For once you looked at a loss for words.

“What happened?” his voice was gentle.

You sighed and met his eyes. “My brother,” you started, swallowing as if your voice was caught, “My older brother, he… drove home drunk from a Halloween party. He was 17 and new at driving, and the roads were wet, and — “ you swallowed again, blinking as you stared off into nothing, “He didn’t make it home.”

The waver in your voice made his heart clench. “I’m so sorry.” 

He looked at you. 

You — who he watched day after day from the back of the classroom. You — who had all of the answers. 

You looked so small from this side of the desk. 

Your hand trembled, hovering above the mess of eraser shavings that the two of you had made together. He wanted to touch you. His hands twitched in his lap. When you found the courage to meet his gaze again, he caught the barely-there shimmer of tears threatening your lower lashes, and he couldn’t help himself.

Pulse racing, he reached across the space between and took your hand in his.

Your eyes were wide with trepidation.

“It’s ok,” he said softly.

His touch was delicate at first, timid until you squeezed back. His eyes fluttered up to yours for just a second, searching for approval before returning to your hand. 

Your hand. The hand that writes back silly notes on his papers in green pen. The hand that opens his gifts wrapped in newspaper as if they were Tiffany’s boxes.

He rubbed his calloused thumb over your knuckles, wiping away the chalk. Your fingers were cold, fragile almost. Your palm so soft and warm against his. You had a paper cut on your index finger, he noticed. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, swiping the knuckle from your other hand underneath your lashes quickly.

“Don’t be, it’s ok.”

He brought his other hand around yours, his grip solid and gentle all at once. He felt you relax and his curious fingers changed positions, as if he was trying to commit the touch to memory, to feel as much of your hand as possible. What surprised him was how eager yours was to do the same.

He felt your fingers move against the back of his hand, along his tendons, his knuckles, his rings, feeling the strong bones under the soft flesh. The pulse in your wrist hammered against his, your palm starting to sweat.

The echo of footsteps clicked up the hall, coming closer. Your eyes flashed up at his and you took your hand away.

You cleared your throat, sitting up straight again as the footsteps passed the door. “Um, thank you,” you said.

“Sure. Anytime,” he said softly, scratching his head.

The two of you sat there a moment in stillness. Nothing but the ticking of the clock and the clicking of heels moving away now.

“He was really something else,” you said softly, the light in your eyes returning. “From what I remember anyway. I was in eighth grade when it happened. You know, I can’t even say you would have liked him. I mean he was…” you trailed off, lost in thought, “He was in a different crowd. But he just had this energy about him that was so… magnetic. You have that in common at least.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Magnetic?” 

The look you gave him made his heart flutter. A glint he caught in your eyes, there for only a second. “Yeah.”

You thumbed at the pencil on your desk again, brows furrowed in thought. “I never really went to many parties. Not in high school, not in college either. There’s a part of me that feels like I really missed out.”

“If it’s any consolation you’re really not missing much,” he said with a little chuckle. 

“I know but it’s still… an experience.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Can’t argue with that.”

You sighed and looked at him again, the worry creeping back onto your features. “Please be careful, ok?” 

“I will,” he said. “I promise.”

______

A/N: We thought Tina’s 1984 Halloween party was angsty, who’s ready for Angstfest 1985??

I also want to make a little note that I hope teacher!reader having this very specific backstory element doesn't deter anyone from the story! It was important for me as a writer to give her a reason for her behavior and relationships (specifically with her mom). It's all going to make sense, I promise! Just stick with me 💜

I want to give a special shoutout this week to the people who leave feedback (especially every single chapter!), and to the people who send me excited asks and messages. Your encouragement really keeps me going, you have no idea. (I do love all your hearts too, shy folks, please don’t get me wrong! They make me smile and I cherish you.) 

I’m a small blog. I have less than 1k followers (but I’m closing in!). When I posted chapter one I had 165. This is my first big series and I’m learning a lot in the process. So if you love this story and feel comfortable sharing it, please do! I love you.

***If you want to be tagged or asked to be and don't see your name here, it's because I couldn't. Update your settings like this!

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Tags continued in comments 💋

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #don't stand so close to me

[nonnieapple]

⛈☂ Strings☂⛈

 • (Marshall Lee x reader)  • r a t i n g: t e e n & u p • 2 4 2 5  w o r d s  • p o s t e d 24.09.2023     🌧 navigation  ☔️ SEQUEL • s u m m a r y: marshall likes snooping around, and you like peace and quiet.

The rain fell on the grasslands of Aaa and surrounding areas. The animals in the forests hid under trees, candy citizens ran into bars, and Marshall Lee floated high off the ground. 

  He floated to the empty Tree House. The willow branches dripped with cold water and glistened like rhinestones. He tapped on the glass. No one answered. Adjusting his jacket and turning invisible, he let himself in, prying the glass up with his claws. It opened with a slight screech. He flew in, shaking the raindrops off his leather jacket. 

  The water dropped to the wooden ground. He looked up and flinched, turning visible as he was met with a figure on the couch in the kitchen. 

  They held a left-handed guitar made of bone, decorated with worn stickers. They held a pick shaped like a heart as they strummed out chords of Francis Forver, strumming the e-string angrily each time they messed up, concentrating so hard it was almost intimidating. 

  Marshall floated above them as he zipped up one of his pockets.

  You jolted up, stopped playing, nearly dropped your guitar, and with wide eyes watched as some guy appeared in front of you. 

  He had mint skin, black hair wet from the rain, black and red eyes you never got used to, and an expression that confused you. Maybe fear, or worry. You screamed, and he did as well. It was Marshall Lee- kind of a friend of a friend with whom you occasionally crossed paths.   

  Kinda a person you thought was mad cool, but not someone you were close with. 

  "What are you doing here?" He asked. His voice was calm and bordering on deep. You hadn't heard him speak much, and it was startling. 

  You raised a brow.

  "I could ask you the same question!"   You jabbed. 

  He floated down, eyes staring at your instrument.

  "Nice guitar." He bent over to inspect it. You pulled away. His tone was between mocking and impressed. Personal space breached, raise the grimace shields. 

  He was acting quite calm. You were, too. Internally, though, you screamed, your heartbeat wild, hands drumming on your thighs.

  "Um... thanks? Did Fionna invite you over?" You changed your posture from a slouch to the straightest and stiffest pose known to Aaa. Even your tone was stiff. You weren't a person who was comfortable with others around, often becoming a robotic, clumsy mess, and you were even worse with people you barely knew. Cool people you barely knew? Instant death.

  "Nope."

   Your face flashed with concern. Marshall wasn't... malicious, but he was trouble, and glob forbid he dragged you into some antics. Can't a guy practice some guitar on a rainy afternoon?

   "As LSP would say, I'm crashing." He shrugged casually.

  You strummed your guitar. It was still connected to your demonic amp. The amount of demons you had to fight to get that thing was crazy. But it was worth it. The sound was clear, the controls were precise, and it sounded otherworldly, especially with deadstortion. 

  He floated near you and nearly stood on his feet. The silence hung in the air as your eyes drifted around the kitchen. 

  "Mind if I try?" He spoke gently, far more soft compared to his usual sass. It could be something he put on in front of groups of people. Or maybe your deer-in-headlights demeanor was enough to make even him more careful. 

  Your eyes fell on him and you folded your arms, not before gesturing to the instrument swiftly.

  "Uh no, go ahead." You nodded and raised your shoulders, tense. 

  Marshall scooped it into his arms. It fit great. His long fingers spanned across the frets nicely. He had hands made for playing guitar, and that made you envious. Even with practice, you couldnʼt reach so far. He positioned himself, floating mid-air. 

  Your face was a mix of curiosity and surprise. 

  "No pick? Just... fingers?" You raised a brow, the words coming out faster than you thought. He laughed lightly, and you flushed. 

  "I'm good with them." You choked on air as you sat stiffly, stifling a nervous laugh. If you were flushed before, now all your blood was definitely in your awkward face. 

  He strummed and his long ears perked up at the sound. 

   "You're left-handed?" He bit the edges of his black lips, positioning his fingers. He didn't need to take so long doing all that. He was stalling. Curious.

  "Not quite. A dragon tore off one of my left fingertips, so I can't hold down the frets without gross pain," You rambled quietly as you rested against the red cushions.

  He played what was definitely, unmistakably Misirlou. You had to close your mouth at the speed of his wrist. Looking at that shit was enough to give your wrist a sprain. 

  He lifted his hands, holding the guitar loosely as he stared in your general direction expectantly. You cleared your throat. 

  "You seem good at left-handed playing. I've only seen you play right before." Marshall's expression flashed disappointment for a second before returning to a chill one. 

  "I've had a thousand years to learn, if I couldn't play either,  that would be embarrassing." He smiled. Damn, that guitar suited him... 

  "Same with money... imagine being poor after like a thousand years..." You tapped on the table, lost in thought, partially about vampires, but mostly about a vampire. 

  "I can't, I own half of Aaa and my mom is the ruler of the Nightosphere. I used to own this Tree House!" He motioned to a part of the tree, and objects lifted to reveal an M carved into it. 

  "I remember that. I wasn't there but I heard about it." You nodded. 

  "Guess you've heard a lot about me?" He lifted his brows. 

  "Quite a- oooh. I get it." 

  "Get what?" A grin tugged at his lips.

  "That wasn't an actual question, was it?" You squinted up with a smug expression. 

  "Wow. Pretty and smart. Package deal," He said with the perfect delivery- just the right amount of casualness for the line to be missed unless you were paying attention. And you indubitably were; you dearly hoped he didn't notice and you came off as cool and mysterious. Your flush and rigidity betrayed your discomfort. 

  Marshall passed you your guitar, and you leaned on it with your elbow, brushing hair away from your face as you looked around the room, searching for something interesting. 

  Dishes. Fridge. Your shaky hands. Paintings. Tree bark. A bug in the corner. Inevitably, your eyes fell back on Marshall. Your attention jumped from his clothes to his hair, to his inhuman features. 

  "Why are you staring?" You blanched and your expression fell. You met his eyes. If you looked down you'd be even more suspicious. 

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to. Your eyes are...." You trailed off. Shit. You weren't looking at his globdamn eyes, but you weren't about to say "Nice cock, bro". 

  "Horrifying? Demonic?" You swore he floated closer to you. You recoiled, pursing your lips. 

  "Interesting."

  Good save, idiot.

  His arrogant little facade faded, replaced by tired disappointment. 

  "It's also interesting how you're already tall but still float."

  He shrugged.

  "Alright, I'll bite." He stood on the ground. You finally got a good look at his frame and height, and man was that good look good. Every part of him was long and slim, from his ears to his eyes and fingers, and who else knows what. You slapped yourself internally at the thought. 

   He sat down next to you, setting his right calf onto his left thigh. He inclined his head. 

  "Not literally." He flashed the tips of his fangs. He fished a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, turning to you and slicking back his drying hair.

   "You want some?"

  You grimaced. 

   "No. and you shouldn't smoke inside. And this shit is bad for your vocal health." The rain still raged on, yet it felt like a calming ambiance when in the comfort of the Tree House. 

  "Aww, come on. Just once," He beckoned sweetly, nearing your face, feigning demonic puppy eyes. You shook your head. He set them down on the couch, as well as a red lighter. So much of his stuff was red. It was like if you had everything made outta food. 

  "It's like murder. It's a slippery slope."

  You bounced your leg, checking your phone. You scrolled through your notifications. As empty as your heart. 

  "Sometimes I check my messages and realize just how bitchless I am..." 

  "Can't relate. I have lots of friends and messages...." He spread his arms over the backboard, gesturing in the air as his eyes wandered. He had a real soulful expression, as though he was speaking of glob itself. 

  Marshall dropped his arms, sighed, and frowned. 

  "Okay, yeah, I don't have anyone close to me. Sure I hang out with people but I'm kind of a loner," He admitted quietly, reminiscent of your insecure and anxious tone. 

  "You saw me earlier. I'm not much of a loner as much as I am a loser..."

  "That's where we're different. But together we make a lone loser." He gestured to his unbeating heart, speaking like a damn motivational speaker. You smiled. 

  "Perfect."

  A silence lingered. If not for the raging storm out, you would've heard the caw of a cyclops crow. 

  The silence turned strange as you made prolonged eye contact. Your proximity sent you into a fever. He didn't have any warmth- it felt like you had stolen all of it at once. 

  You tore your gaze away, opening up a portal with your pick and putting your guitar in. Marshall's eyes widened and he jerked in surprise. 

  "Where did that go?!" His voice strained against serenity. 

 "Uhhh I put it in its case. Between the Nightosphere-" You lifted your hand. 

  "The Nightosphere?" He interrupted with worry. 

  "-And the deadworlds. Let me finish." You readjusted yourself, unamused. 

  "Oh, I'll let you finish alright. Not like that. Are you finished?" 

  Your mouth was agape. 

  "You made that a lot worse than it was. Yes, I'm done." 

  You would never forget the awkwardness that plagued you throughout that whole interaction. It would forever be embedded in your cringing bones. 

  You browsed on your phone, refreshing your conversation with Fionna. No updates. Not even a bad meme. Sad. 

  Your arms rested on the table as you set your phone face down. You contemplated making tea. 

  "Why haven't we talked much before?"

  That was a difficult question. You braced yourself as you turned your head to him just a tad. 

   "Honestly? I was... afraid of you. Not because of the demon vampire thing," You quickly defended yourself. 

  "That's surprising..." Marshall mumbled.

  "Sorry." He raised his arms defensively. 

  "But because you're... I'm gonna sound stupid." You laid face down and laughed nervously, in sync with the drops hitting the windows. 

  "I doubt that. You're not Fionna." 

  The corners of your mouth tilted up, and you shot the vampire a dirty look. 

  "Shut up!" You laughed hollowly, surprised by his little joke. 

   He gave you a tight-lipped smile. 

   "You're cool, and I thought you were better than interacting with someone like me." The words did sound stupid coming out of your mouth. The thoughts were completely irrational. 

  "Someone with mutual interests and more to talk about than hacking monsters or angry exes?" He quirked a brow. 

  "I'm not trying to rationalize it. Also, I have plenty of exes to talk about." You raised your phone. 

  Marshall's face was practically begging you to not. 

  "Please don't."

   "Fine. You're safe. For now. One was a demon." You glared at a picture of them with you. He peeked over your shoulder. 

  "That's interesting...."

  "You said not to talk about it." You leaned on your palm, feigning disinterest. 

  "I take it back, come on! Don't leave me hanging," He asked desperately, ghosting his black claws over your now upright back. You shuffled away. 

  "You'll have to beg-"

  Your phone buzzed. You hummed with displeasure, reading the message right away. 

  "Glob. You gotta go, Fionna will be here soon," You urged as you stood up, straightening out your clothes and stretching as you paced around the room. Marshall paused for a second and decided to stand up. 

  "You're right. No fun getting caught." He shoved his hands into his pockets, walking to the window. You watched his movements carefully as he opened up the window, putting his foot on the ledge, and floating, defying gravity. 

  As he left, you were hit with a lot of. A lot. Just, a lot.  

  You put the kettle on the stove, sitting on the counter, relaxing, finally. 

  You had always... wanted to hang out with him, but, damn, you didn't think it'd happen. And he wasn't as intimidating as he came off! You felt all funny inside, still absolutely high off the adrenalin of it all. When you saw him appear it was like your body got restarted. 

  The water began to boil, and you poked at dry leaves of colorful tea. 

  You were surprised as Marshall flew back in. You didn't have time to process a thing. He observed you as you lounged with owlish eyes. He picked up his lighter and cigarettes. He hadn't looked away.

  "Forgot these." He glanced from the objects to you. He headed for the window again. He hesitated. 

  "These aren't tobacco, you know." 

  You raised your brows. He flew out as the front door rattled and Fionna and Cake yelled loudly. You waved to Marshall, only to see that he was gone, and the window was open. 

  You sat like a statue with a mystified gaze. 

  The kettle whistled and Fionna waved her hand in front of your face.

  Did you fumble or did you fumble hard? Maybe if you had taken the offer, something else would be ha...

  "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Cake frowned, poking your knee. You moved the kettle and Fionna turned off the stove. 

  "No, I saw a... yep, saw a ghost. A cool ghost," You replied breathlessly and somewhat robotically as you finally managed to focus on the two. You poured hot water from the kettle into your favorite mug. It had a cat on it. Dropping tea leaves into the water, you watched as the leaves seeped a bright ruby, and swirled with darker, near-black swirls. 

  Rain still poured outside, albeit it was far calmer than previously. You hoped Marshall was fine. 

  You held up two more mugs. You smiled awkwardly. 

  "Anyone want tea?" 

#☂️ #w r i t i n g #a d v e n t u r e t i m e #adventure time #marshall lee x reader #marshall lee

[dimepdf]

can you write eddie smut with male reader? if u do that sorry if not

TAKE MY BREATH. + EDDIE MUNSON

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? summary. You can't possibly be in love with your best friend Eddie. He wasn't gay, and you were completely as well straight. Not to mention that he had a thing for Chrissy Cunningham, too. There's no way he could have feelings for you too, right? … right? author's note. its gay month, which means i'm writing mainly queer fics for a bit sorry to all my cis followers (not really) HAPPY PRIDE!

[ ❥ ] pairing. eddie munson x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 2.9K

[ ❥ ] genre. 18+, angst

[ ❥ ] warnings. mature language, male reader, bisexual reader, not time period canon, idk what the fuck is inside of a car, one sided pining, drunken confessions, dub-con since drinking, Nancy being your ex, no bad blood though, oral (m), the denim and leather jacket awooga, cheating, Chrissy deserving better

You couldn't help it. You knew how wrong it was to be practically drooling over your bandmate Eddie in Donny’s garage.

You were set under a spell as you watched his arm flex with every move he made under the hood of his car, showing his long fingers curving with every flex of his muscle.

Hawkin's summer air hit you like a cold shiver up your spine as you raised your shoulders to flinch away from goosebumps from eye-fucking your male best friend.

The thoughts you had about Eddie were wrong. You knew they were, but every time you’d see Eddie, the desire for him would suddenly hit you like a high-speed train.

You just couldn't explain it, you just couldn’t be gay. Your last relationship with Nancy proved your defense, as it did end abruptly.

You still valued the connection you two had and decided not to end it in bad blood. And yet there you were gawking over Eddie in his shirtless band logo shirt.

Stumping your nerves to drop down on your knees and beg for anything Eddie would give him. You shot up from your guitar amp, your legs practically moving on their own as you dragged your feet towards Eddie’s car.

He noticed your appearance, glancing through his lashes as he hunched over the front of his hood, his forehead glistening with sweat as he reached into his back pocket for his dark blue handkerchief to wipe his sweat.

"Aw dude, lend me a hand real quick." As he was pushing the tool into your hand, you were as clueless as you looked, glancing at the car and then the wrench in your hand.

"Oh god, if you actually would prefer your car to not have spontaneous combustion, you should probably take this away from me." Eddie didn't let you get away too quickly. Grabbing the sleeve of your shirt and guiding you in front of his car.

Standing alongside him by the car hood, and placing a hand on your back in a physical gesture of support.

"Just wait, you're going to be thanking me soon enough when you finally get your own car and need to change your own oil." He grinned, bumping his hip into yours.

"Or I can just be normal and have an actual mechanic do it for me," you recommended, your hands going to work as he pointed to what you needed to do. Eddie’s attention was strictly tied to your hands.

You noticed how easily the dust and grime clung to your fingers under all the wires and such. "I feel like I should be wearing gloves for this," you chuckled, glancing at your right hand, which was covered in a thin layer of unidentifiable car fluids.

"Come on, don't be a pussy. Are you that worried about your perfect, delicate little fingers getting dirt under your nails?" Eddie’s tone was teasing as he turned his back to the hood and leaned to sit on the edge.

You shot him a pointed look as you continued to finish the task with Eddie’s help and guidance. Of course, you discovered that changing the oil in his car wasn't as hard as you cracked it up to be.

You, of course, wouldn't do it again without his assistance, but you were proud of yourself nonetheless for actually doing it. "Are you sure you did everything right? I don't want to start my car and have spontaneous combustion as you say." Eddie inquired as you wiped your hands on your jeans out of habit.

grimacing at the oil stains that your mother so no doubt is going to nag you about later. "Please don't tell me you're one of those single guys that treat their car like a chick." You were chuckling at your own joke.

Eddie sneered, scrunching up his face, mimicking your laugh before snatching the front collar of your shirt and wiping his dirty hands clean. You winced and pushed him away before he could do any more damage, tugging your shirt down to glance at the dirty splotch in the middle of your gray shirt.

“Dude this is like my only normal shirt.” By normal you meant non-rock or metal band shirt, your mother never let you leave the house wearing “such demonic logos” you would be lucky enough to even sneak out wearing all black Eddie smirked admiring his art.

“Oh yeah, well that's what you get for not coming to Hellfire club today left me for the losers for almost a week straight.” You didn't want to tell him the reason you had been missing out on more and more time together was all because of the short leash your parents had you.

You stretched not liking the damp feeling of your shirt sticking to your skin, you peeled the shirt off over the top of your head standing shirtless in the middle of the driveway before you could stop yourself.

It seemed like Eddie took notice, his eyes trailing over your slightly muscular chest as he seemed to freeze in place his lashes fluttered as he turned his head away grimacing, shedding his own jacket as he tossed it over to you.

“For your dignity.” you caught the jacket easily hurriedly as you covered yourself just as you zipped it up to your neck Donny and Bako entered back into the garage unsuspected of the moment they had just ruined with just their mere presence.

Not being able to get the words out that you wanted as band practice came to a start.

You decide that day that you would act upon the weird feelings bubbling in the pit of your stomach. It was the way his snug black leather and denim jacket clung onto your skin, forgetting to give it back after band practice you realized the moment you walked into your bedroom shirtless with the scent of Eddie still lingering on you.

It was all so embarrassing the flush of your face as you realized the erection in your pants just from wearing his jacket. It was even more embarrassing when you reached your fingers under the elastic waistband of your boxers and touched yourself thinking about him.

The next morning was less eventful than last night, as it was normal for Eddie to pick you up and drive you to school together. The drive was just a tad bit more awkward than normal, with the music blasting from the stereo saving you from the stuttering string of sentences that was no doubt about to come from your mouth.

You tried to look uninterested as his eyes flickered over to you as he drummed on the steering wheel, his voice pitching as he sang along to the music, your head resting against the window as you closed your eyes and sighed.

You were convinced that whatever pride you had left would crumble at the thought of Eddie piecing together what you did last night while wearing his jacket, so you didn't want to hear about it.

The only surprising thing that happened the rest of the day was your ex-girlfriend Nancy Wheeler and her bubbly personality approaching you at the beginning of English class. Handing out invitations to a party she and her new boyfriend Jonathan were throwing to kick off the school year.

You didn't question the fact that Jonathan looked very uncomfortable with the idea, despite the supportive smile he would plaster on his face every time Nancy would glance at him.

Eddie agreed with you, cutting off any chance of conversation Nancy could make with you as he took the flier and turned your attention to his own conversation, not bothering to bid the preppy couple a farewell as Eddie practically cringed and shooed them away from you.

It would take you the entire rest of the day to realize that Eddie was actually jealous. You both showed up to the party anyway after convincing Eddie that you and Nancy were not going to run off and hook up.

She had Jonathan now, and you made it really clear that it didn't bother you that she had moved on, just wanting the Wheeler woman to finally have the happiness she deserved.

If anything, you were more annoyed over seeing Chrissy Cunningham hanging off of Eddie’s arm.

You hadn't remembered the two even speaking since middle school. You found it ironic that Eddie made you promise not to run off with your ex, only for him to cling to Chrissy the moment she stumbled over to them.

It was as if something started boiling in the pit of your stomach the moment they started chatting and smiling at each other, and you didn't even bother making an excuse before slipping away and blending into the party as you watched them laugh about something from across the room.

You were mindlessly sipping on your own red solo cup, filling it up every time it was half-filled just so you did not look awkward standing all alone in one place. You realized a few minutes in how testy your tolerance was like you.

You felt more light; you were suddenly so blank yet so full the moment you glanced over at Eddie, holding his own beer.

You strained your eyes as hard as you could at the couple across the room, reminding yourself that he'd rather spend his time talking and giggling with Chrissy. You hoped you'd suddenly get the force and make Chrissy's face blow up.

The plan was unsuccessful as Eddie leaned in to whisper something into her ear. You cringed, glancing down at your cup as you swirled the contents around in the cup.

As you returned your glance, you noticed Eddie parting ways, striding into the crowd into the other section of the home. You were just a bit quick on your feet to linger after him, following his back up the stairs.

Your mind was so focused on one thing that you, of course, didn't know, just opening the bathroom door and walking inside, shutting the door behind you like you had the right to be there.

Eddie was standing in front of the toilet, his hands just lingering at the bottom of his pants as his head snapped towards you, his glare softening as he realized it was only you.

"Did you want to see my cock that fucking bad?" It was an obvious tease, but your mind was too preoccupied with something else as your bottom lip poked out once your back hit the back of the door, your posture stumbling.

Eddie was in front of you before you could blink, his arms grabbing your torso as you slumped forward into his arms, an involuntary giggle slipping past your lips.

"I forgot how much of a fucking lightweight you were [y/n]." You didn't really try to say anything, or at least the words that you did speak didn't really fit together

. It just seemed like your mouth was moving and your lips and tongue would get in the way, "Woah Woah, slow down, what are you saying?" Although Eddie was as drunk as you were, the closer you saw his flushed face and dilated eyes, he would nod along like he understood every single word you strung together.

Once you finished, a moment of silence broke between you two as you actually realized how close Eddie was standing in front of you, feeling the brush of his breath against your face and the smell of alcohol on his breath. It was like once Eddie glanced down at your lips, you took the opportunity to pounce on him.

Your lips messily seek out his lips, your fingers reaching to tangle into the sides of his hair. It only took Eddie seconds to keep up with you, slamming your back against the door as he hooked his hand on the curve of your knee to grind his erection into your lower stomach.

As Eddie bites at your bottom lip, your hands trail down his torso, your hands stopping at his pants. You didn’t bother hesitating, yanking down his zipper, pulling away from the kiss to drop down on your knees, "holy shit [y/n] you’re going to be the death of me." Eddie groaned as you extracted his cock from his pants.

It was the first time you’d ever seen another man's junk as well as held another guy's junk, yet no questions or protests came from Eddie once you wrapped your warm lips around his mushroom tip.

You felt him shudder under your hold, leaning his forehead against the wood of the door as his fist clenched around a fistful of your hair, the other covering his mouth as he watched you struggle to know what to do with your tongue.

"You're really big." You mumbled with your mouth full. It was all you could really acknowledge in your drunken state.

As your tongue swirls, the black hair of his pubes tickles the top of your mouth, accompanied by a few erupting gags from your throat. Not used to the feeling of him thrusting to the back of your throat without warning, wetting the brim of your eyes.

Eddie's hand was resting tightly on the hairs of your head as he whimpered your name, a warning before you would swallow the thick bitterness of the mess he made in your mouth.

"I better not be fucking dreaming," Eddie grunted under his breath feeling his length twitch with just the tease of your tongue.

His hands reached to cover his flushed face as you stood up with wet lips forming a soft grin on your face proud of the effects that you had over him. Both of you did not really know what to say after.

You watched as Eddie tucked his dick back in his pants and exhaled before leaning in and kissing you again, this time with more passion, not like the first kiss, where you were all hurried and rushed as a knock on the door pulled you both apart.

"Yeah Eds, are you still in there?" It was Chrissy. her voice instantly wiping away your smile turning into a scowl as your hands fisted into the collar of Eddie’s shirt.

"I don't like her," you slur, leaning into him for another kiss that was rejected, your mouth just latching onto the skin of his neck as you trailed wet kisses down to his collarbone.

"Give me a minute, Chrissy," Eddie called out. his voice cracking as he used one arm to steady himself to stand still as you sucked hickeys into his skin, parting away to intrude a small "No stay," not knowing how badly Eddie wanted to take up on that offer.

He had a bit more sense left than you did know that it would be a really bad idea for you both to be caught fucking in Nancy Wheeler's bathroom.

"We have to—wait, Jesus Christ, you’re like a vampire." Eddie struggled to hold you still. Just to get your lips away from his body as you whined, pouting as he gently pushed you away against the door.

"You’re gonna' fuck Chrissy." Your tone was pouty as your glared eyes made Eddie grimace, shaking his head while holding you up to look down at you.

"I won’t," he spoke, "but only if you promise that you’ll kiss me again like this when we’re sober." Answering with a nod, Eddie accepted the gesture with a smirk before you could touch the knob of the door.

A sound came, Eddie, as you glanced at each other. "I mean it, I really like you [Y/N]," he says, swallowing the thump in his throat.

It was all so wrong, you knew it. He was your best friend, let alone a guy for fuck sake: you didn't even know if you were gay, and yet there you were in your ex-girlfriend's bathroom giving him a blowjob.

You couldn't keep your promise.

It was clear that Eddie wouldn't hold up his end of the bargain either. The night of Nancy’s was just another memory you both chose to just not to bring out the second you stepped out of that bathroom.

You, of course, remembered everything that happened that night, also remembering what happened after you exited the bathroom.

You would think that since Eddie and Chrissy became official just the same week after Eddie’s confession. You would think that just because of that you would catch the hint and stop lusting after Eddie.

It didn't work, it just made you want him more, and it didn't help that you were now going behind Chrissy's back and fucking her boyfriend in secret. Him into your bedroom by the sleeve of his jacket as your mouth felt so natural wrapped around his cock, like it was meant to be there.

Eddie really wanted to be a good person, but he was only human and your mouth just felt so godsent, so he sucked up all his guilt and moaned it all out as his head leaned back against your pillows, his fingers threading through your hair as you bobbed your head.

Eddie whimpered and shivered as the sensation of your warm tongue swirled along the tip of his cock. Sparing your parents from hearing the sinful control you had over his entire body.

His thighs tense under you as his effort to not make a sound fails when the feeling of your warm tongue trails along the trace of his vein.

His brain shortcoming not bothering to warn you of his erupting ending as your mouth suddenly filled with the taste of him.

Maybe he could have opted to keep you his little secret just a bit longer.

[ ❥ ] taglist. @xoxo-dede @sapppy-cocktail @joyrubyjanee @torynicholsgf @ycarlii @guitarromantic @sh3lov3dyou @lafresamilk @loveshineslikethesky @haechaniebom @hello-100 @vxid42 @biggestslutever-1stnamegrea-blog @eddiesbitch @slvdsjjk @stitched-mouth @misaamaneswifey @kiszkathecook @kyyellaxi @eichenhouseproperty @hotgirlsshareaccountss @ran-rap @avasjunkpile @notsoshynomore @the-night-owl-blr @1efleur @todoroki-slut @mjauqeen @scarlet-kazuha @lattayhottay16 @astralwaifu @prettyplant0 @imliterallygonnagetviolent @strangerthanfanfiction713 @graktung @sughcashsaiki @fzzybrain @lluvin @heavanskitchen @satansspaghettie @lady-ashfade @eddieemunsonnn @slut4normanosborn @candylife44 @kitkatwinchester @fanfictionfreak

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ] #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x chrissy cunnningham #stranger things #gay #joseph quinn #netflix #stranger things 4

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

First Date

Yandere! Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female Mutant Reader

Based in the story line of love thy enemy.

One shot

You couldn't go to sleep well last night. You were so excited and nervous. This was the day your new and first boyfriend, the Head of Security has the evening off.

And he asked you on a date immediately after confessing his love for you. You blushed at the memory. Your crush not only "liked" you back but loved you!

You stuttered like a fool with your face turning red from embarrassment as you mumbled your acceptance and meekly nodded. The Colonel found your response amusing and he chuckled. He kissed your forehead then left for his job at the head office before giving you a cheeky wink.

Meanwhile, the Colonel walked with more confidence in his step. He finally got his girl. He refused to let anyone show it, he was nervous like a young bloke when he snuck you to the balcony where the air pilots flew their vehicles.

The scenery was like a Disney Movie. Then Quaritch cleared his throat and you blinked to look at him. He caressed your lovely sculpted cheekbone and said how he loves you.

He almost laughed out loud when you acted stupid but he didn't want to be mean so he kept his mouth shut.

The whole day dragged on and on. Then finally it was time. The Colonel texted you to meet him down the stairs in the hallway. When he heard your heels, he looked up and his jaw slightly dropped.

The crappy lab coat and nurse outfit was gone. You wore a nice button up dress and a tight skirt that made your ass look more noticable. He wondered how soft your cheeks were if he groped them. But, it's too soon. He doesn't want to scare you.

He took your hand and kissed it when you stood next to him.

While walking to the Marine cafeteria, he held your hand and you ignored the stares of the other staff. You chatted how Grace and Jake got these cool plants that made the quality of medicine better. You can send them home and to your beloved sickly father...

The Colonel was quiet when you mentioned him but he changed the subject by complimenting your makeup.

"I miss the nail salons." You pouted. Quaritch smirked and held out the chair for you to sit.

Quaritch talked about his rounds with the AMP suits and other predators he almost got attacked to help some scientists go to the jungle and get some resources.

The date went well till desert came. The Colonel ordered Gelato. You were minding your own business and eating your sweet treat till you noticed Quaritch looking at you with a naughty expression. You felt your face hot and then you shook your head.

"Don't get any ideas." You firmly stated.

"No ideas here." He grinned mockingly then took out a bite.

You rolled your eyes. "I mean I would never." You awkwardly gestures your index finger to his groin area.

The Colonel said nothing but stared. He looked like he was close to losing his shit.

Then narrowed your eyes. You stood up then dropped the gelato on the plate and began to walk away.

"Wait!"

The Colonel grabbed your hand and spun you around. He titled your chin to look up. "Sorry about that. You are so cute when you get flustered."

He wrapped his strong arm around your shoulder then walked you to your room. Before you bid him good night. He kissed you square on the lips.

You blinked and then the Colonel winked. "We'll work on that." Then he walked away.

You closed your door and giggled and then you checked your phone to see missed video calls from your dad

"Honey, where have you been?" He looked concern when he picked up his phone.

"I met a man."

#avatar #miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #stephen lang #miles Quaritch imagine #yandere miles Quaritch x reader #yandere miles quaritch #yandere #Youtube

[f1nalgirlz]

Spooktober day 5: Stormy night | Dan Cooper

my list

˗ˏˋwarnings´ˎ˗ nsfw, smut, almost soft dom reader, kitchen smut

˗ˏˋcontent´ˎ˗ established relationship, kitchen bj, oral sex/blowjob (m receiving)

((not proofread yet as always I’ll fix mistakes later🫶🎃))

You were home alone tonight, your boyfriend, Dan, having left for work in the morning. It was late now and the rain had lasted all day, only amping up when the sun set. When the sky was completely dark, the thunder and lightning began, knocking the power out. You’d been laying in bed reading a book while waiting for Dan to get home when all the lights went off, leaving you in the pitch black. You fumbled around your nightstand, patting around it in hopes of finding your flashlight keychain. When your fingers touched the cold metal of your keys you smiled a little, grabbing them and feeling around the keys until your flashlight was in your hands. As you clicked it on, you got up, heading to get some candles to light your house.

As you dropped to your knees in the kitchen, digging through a cabinet for candles, you heard the front door open and shut. You sat a few tall candles on the counter as you stood up, hearing foot steps behind you. Turning to shine your light at the entrance to the kitchen, you accidentally flashed your boyfriend in the eyes, causing his hand to shoot up to cover them. “Hey!” he called out, making you drop your keychain. “Sorry!” You called back grabbing them up again. “I was looking for candles.” You said, grabbing two off the counter. When you looked at him you could tell he was soaked, brown hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks.

“I’ll go get you a towel.” You said, setting the other two candles down on the table. He nodded, taking your place in the kitchen, pulling his lighter from his pocket and lighting the candles. As he waited for you to get back he began to rid himself of his remaining wet clothes, peeling off his shirt and dropping it into the sink. As you walked back into the kitchen, you were met with the sight of Dan dropping his pants, that were heavy with rain, into the sink. His nearly nude figure was illuminated by the light from the candles. You clicked off your light, dropping your keys on the table when you walked to him. He smiled when he noticed you, then came a soft “thank you.” You smiled and wrapped him in the towel, feeling his damp arms wrap around you. He leaned down, kissing you gently, as you kissed him back you could feel cold strands of wet hair on your cheeks.

When he pulled away you caressed his face. “Long day?” You asked receiving a nod. “Yes. It wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the storm.” He said, a sigh slipping his lips. You had always enjoyed the rain and storms, but Danny… not so much. He really hated them, he hated not having power, he hated the feeling of wet clothes on his skin, but most of all he hated the nervousness he got from the cracking of thunder. You gave him a slight smile and leaned on the counter, crossing your arms and looking his body over. The towel draped over him hardly covered his lithe body. A sudden flash of lightening illuminated the room, causing Danny’s brows to furrow. “How about I improve your day some, hm?” You said, reaching a hand out which he took.

As you slowly pulled him into you by his hand a smile grew on his lips. You gently moved him so his back was against the counter and with a smile you pecked his cheek. The sound of the rain aggressively coming down on the roof and windows filled the room. You then calmly sank to the floor, dragging your hands down his sides, then hips, and stopping on his thighs. He shivered at your touch, making you smile a little as you looked up at him. “May I?” You asked when your fingers looped around the waistband of his boxer briefs. He nodded at you but you tilted your head. “Use your words if you want it, Danny.” You said gently. “Yes, please.” He said and that was plenty good enough for you so, you pulled his briefs down. Your hand wrapped around his semi-hard length, giving it a gentle pump. It seemed like your touch alone was enough to make him hard because it didn’t take very long for him to be fully erect in your palm.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes when you took the first lick, just barely touching your tongue to his tip. You could hear a quiet whine coming from your boyfriend as you slowly took his cock into your mouth, bobbing your head. As his soft hands ran through your hair, you hummed around him. You always let him touch as long as he didn’t push your head, and he never did. As you bobbed your head, you gently held onto his hips, listening to his moans and whimpers. The sounds of his moans made your body hot, wetness growing in your panties. You heard Dan’s breathing get more and more unsteady, and could feel him writhing in your touch. You knew this meant he was close so you pulled off his cock with a ‘pop’ instead using your hand to pump his length.

You stared up at him, mouth open with his tip on your tongue as you jerked him off. As Danny looked down at you his chest heaved, eyes rolling back as he came into your mouth. A crack of thunder sounded in the room as a flash of lightning lit up Dan’s face that was wrinkled up in pleasure. As he came the salty liquid went down your throat and on the corners of your mouth. You continued milking his cock as he came causing his body to shudder and whimpers to leave his mouth. As you swallowed all that was in your mouth, you stood up, giving him a slow kiss. He instantly reciprocated, his arms wrapping tightly around you. “Well… is it improved?” You asked, receiving an eager nod. He instantly reciprocated, kissing you back and wrapping his arms around you. You laughed a little as he began dragging you to the bedroom, grabbing a candle off the table to light the way.

R: I know this is pretty basic but,, it is what it is 😝 my missed Kinktober day 4 will be up when I get the final result of the poll and Kinktober day 1 will be up SOMETIME before the 31st. (probably) Ik i suck hard for already missing days by 5 but I’m working on it😭 as an apology for missing 2 days I will let you know that day 1 is a Clyde fic🫶 okay byeee

#rory culkin #charlie walker #rory culkin character x reader #scre4m #scream #scream4 #scream 4 #danny cooper #dan cooper #dan cooper intruders #intruders 2015 #culkin brothers #culkin cult #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #spooktober 2023 #spooktober #charlie walker smut #charlie walker x you #charlie walker x y/n #rory culkin smut

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Need - An Adrien Brody/Reader Smut Short.

HAPPY FRIDAY.

Words - 718

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

“Please, Adrien. Please.” 

Your need sends pulses through him, chuckling deeply as his teeth gently crush a bite just beneath your jaw, hands roaming over your skin, his cock gliding through the soaking mess of your folds. You whimper, the thick head of him toying with your clit, a bonfire of lust flickering at the base of your spine, dying to feel his cock sate what his tongue and fingers have worked you into.  

“You sound a little desperate,” he hums, tongue flicking over where your pulse flutters, kisses descending your throat. “Is this what you need?” He pushes into you, just enough to part your walls, the petals of your cunt yielding to him. You squirm, greedy for more, watching him shake his head as he slips out again. “Un-uh. Not yet.” 

Your hips rise, but he pushes you down again, taking your arms when you make a grab to haul him against you, pinning them above your head. He might be slight in his size, but he’s much stronger than he looks, holding you down, his eyes a green blaze of lust as he stares down at you, cock dragging deliciously back and forth over your clit.  

Every ridge, every thickened vein stimulates you perfectly, reminding you of how he feels when he’s daggering your insides, your cunt sparking, pulsing around nothing. You’re dying to feel him breach you, your arousal sending wicked glints of need over your nerves, a harder push making pleasure fork like lightning, your clit twitching as he takes his hand and steers the leaking head of his cock to circle over your bundle.  

His breath shudders against your throat, tongue licking a circle, kisses pressed as your bodies rock against one another. It’s killing him, not being inside of you, but the gratification of the eventual satiation is more than worth the amping anticipation.  

“Mmm, so wet for me, honey.” Those words send shocks through your blood, imagining how slick you’ll get him when he finally gives you that beautiful, thick cock, teasing your opening with it again as his mouth falls to yours, kisses soft and smoky, your little whimpers drank back as your tongues swirl.  

The hand remaining in tight hold against your wrist releases its grip, fingers patting down your arms, a flurry of goose pimples flecking your flesh. He’s still sliding against your folds, his muscles cording beneath his skin, sharp gleams intensifying when he finally fills you. Your breath stills in your chest, your walls stirred and stretched, an almost helpless groan filling your ears as he bottoms out, enjoys those little twitches around him, and then drags back so slowly, it sends a hot chill prickling through you.  

“God, you feel so good.” he moans, nuzzling you, arrowing into your centre a little quicker. Heat flashes over your nerves, your nails raking through his hair, kissing him with thirst. He’s heavy within you, the thick of him splitting you wide, remaking you around him, pushing deeper, the knife edge of pleasure slicing deep as the ecstasy of him finally fucking you sizzles up your spine 

It pervades richly when he sits back on his heels, eyes falling to watch the sight of himself arrowed deep into you, cock glossy with the honey of your cunt, his thumb dropping to rub circles upon your clit. Your arch, riding the current of utter bliss, your hips rolling up against each thrust, mouth dropped open as your cries fill the air.  

Your walls grip on him like a vice, pulling him deeper into the wet flutter of you, the pace less contained now as he loses himself to the mist of heat radiating beneath his skin. His thumb pushes harder, and it sends a jolt skittering through you, your wails beautiful as he watches you fall apart around his cock.  

Your crest burns neon through your nerves, a sky of colours painted over you as it topples you completely. The scream it pulls from you has him twitching, and he becomes caught in the tide of it, cock pressed filthily deep into the rhythmic clasping of you, spilling hard, everything tense undoing and softening to fluid bliss. You both swim in it, adrift on the endless ocean, panting against one another.    

Some needs truly are worth waiting for.  

#adrien brody #adrien brody fanfiction #adrien brody smut #adrien brody x reader #adrien brody x you #adrien brody fanfic #adrien brody fic

[honeeslust]

Thought about this

And then it made me think of this …

Hear me out…

Gojo can't take it when you you watch yourself throwin' that fatty back. The first few times you hooked up, you let him have his way with you. But now you wanted to show him a little more.

He bent your back in and fucked you slower tonight. A little tired from a busy workday, he wanted to stroke you slowly as the stress melted away while he lived in the warmth of your tight embrace. He made sure you felt every inch of him pushing back in, making that cushiony pound cake clap against his thighs.

But as soon as he went no hands with it, you pounced. You lay your head on your hands and caught the momentum of his lazy thrusts. You put a curve in your spine and let that ass shake all over him. So stiff he was as you rocked your hips and fucked yourself onto his length.

He tilts that slutty little waist of his up letting you work his godly cock with your talented little cunt . "Fuuuckk—aahh." He groaned as the sappy slick was dripping out of you and coating his tight balls that slapped against your clit. He sounded so good gruffly whispering every syllable of your name, the rasp in his voice making you want to entice him more. You smirked, rolling your hips more just knowing were going to make him yours tonight.

" Am I taking that cock like a good girl for you daddy?" Your soft pretty eyes looking over your shoulder weaken him the way that no one else can. The view was igniting, seeing his v line perfectly accentuated by your rounded ass that hypnotized him. " Oh you take this dick so good baby?" Poor Satoru, so weak in the knees fighting with everything in him to not let go, he bit down on his knuckles groaning as you told him, " it's all yours daddy, this dick is so good to me?" The awe struck look in your eye as you watched yourself fuck him, —it was just too much. You rolled your hips now knowing you were getting ready to milk that godly cock of all it was worth. " I wanna take it for you daddy." You moaned, squeezing your thighs together. "I wanna take it all for you, please please fill me up Toru, Please." The honored one beamed at you, shaking his head slow eagerly taking it all in. His beautiful broad chest heaving with each heavy breathes as he began to moan for you. The wetness between you coated your thighs as you stroked his cock with your needful pussy. He watched as you bounced on him over and over, elicit juices overflowing now as his cock head swelled within you. "Please, fill me up Toruu, I want it all?"

" Ssss, yea, take it all for me sweetness." He sighed so lovingly as he reached back and to give the supple flesh that bobbed up and down a rude slap. When you moaned, he gave you another, you threw it back harder and again, another,  the impact tickled you deep to your core and your cunt tightened contentedly. The flesh seared with the red hot imprint of his hand before he took the reins that were your thick hips to fuck you how he wanted.

clap clap clap clap, you start to shake and he squeezed your ass with powerful hands  boastfully as he put you back in your place. The honored one was loving every moment that he got to lay deep in that pretty pussy. The heat between your legs has you swollen and repeatedly closing every velvety inch of him up inside you, you hummed happily taking the pounding he was giving you" Mmm daddy, I love this fucking cock, it sooo fucking good." He's so deep it feels like he's a apart of you. " So fucking close baby, ohhh." He grunts keeping his tempo intact even though he was at the edge, — his hard body rigid and amped for release. " Let me fill you up baby, fuck fuck fuck fuh-ffuuu Ahhhh", he stutters as you keep moaning his name as he dragged that heavy ass back into his dick faster and harder til he explodes into you and you around him. For once he's silent, just panting as he holds you tight, pushing a few more pumps into to you make sure that not a single drop of his specimen would escape your heavenly enclosure . He wants you so full of him that even your IUD wouldn't be able to stop you getting pregnant.

*Idk how to end it. You know how it be when you have to hurry up and get it out lol.

#smutxanime honeeslust #blackgirlswhowriteanimesmut #satoru x reader #satoruxblackreader

[imrllytootiredforthis]

Sub Beomgyu That gets jealous when you talk to other guys. He just wants to be your one and only puppy *drops mic and leaves*

-🐟anon

you cant' just mic drop and leave after giving me that??????

omfggggg😫

he sees you talking to someone else and pouts, unable to even fathom a single reason why you would when you have him, your puppy-your only puppy.

he'll be all upset, stomping over to where you're talking to someone that's not him. puppy has zero shame as he glares at the person, possessively nuzzling up to you and pulling you closer.

you laugh at your puppy's actions, thinking nothing of it while you try to continue the conversation.

but that's not okay with gyu, no, he wants you to pay attention to him and only him, so he amps it up a bit.

tugging at your clothes, whining into your ear that he wants to leave or do something else, trying to distract you.

"behave puppy," you warn under your breath to him

but he doesn't stop, sliding his hands under your clothes, nothing too scandalous, enough though to make you know he's getting serious about this and when you brush him away is when he finally snaps

turning to the other person with an icy glare.

"you should just go, i'm their puppy-their only puppy. they're. not. interested. so just leave us the hell alone."

you can't even say you're surprised at the scene, hissing at him but it's half-hearted even in your own eyes all while gyu's glare stays on the retreating person that was dumb enough to talk to you

you better bet he's getting dragged out of there real quick, thrown into the car to get home, on second thought though, the house is awfully far away and his big eyes looking up at you are so enticing.

"stupid puppy."

#inbox💌 #🐟anon #sub beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #txt smut #sub txt #txt hard thoughts #hard thoughts

[spookwyrdie]

Hiii 👋🏻 I'm the anon that requested the Seungmin fic and I can't tell you how happy I am that you wrote it and so quickly too!! It was so so so much better than what I had imagined🥰�� Thank you soo much for writing it🤗❤️ and ik you literally JUST posted it but please a part 2 sometime? I'm soo curious to know what reader will do to Seungmin once they finally get home.☺️😚 Personally I'm thinking about tying him up a lil and edging him more and then just overstimulating him to oblivion cuz canon Seungmin has a pain kink and that just messes me up every time I remember 🤭🤤 but I wanna know what you had in store for him hehe😈

Hi Anonnie 🥰 Finally got attacked by visions of subby Seungmin again enough to finish up this part 2!

{part one can be found here}

Only Wanna Be With You {part 2}

sub!Seungmin x domme!reader

warnings: smut, sexual content, noona kink, vibrators, edging, ruined orgasm (I promise it's okay in the end lol), overstimulation, 18+ ONLY, MDNI

summary: After your evening of teasing at the karaoke bar, Seungmin is desperate to feel you. But his eagerness might get the better of him

word: 3.6k

You let Seungmin drag you into the house, pausing every few steps to draw you in a heated kiss. You even let him drag you all the way into the bedroom, pressing your body up against the closed door and sucking red marks into your neck. His hands roam your body, grabbing onto any part of you harshly, squeezing any bit of your flesh that he can. He’s insatiable, body pressed up against you, crashing into you like a wave breaking over a rocky shore. 

You let him lead the way for a bit, getting lost in the moment and his desperation. As your tongues entwine, he growls into the kiss, pulling away to nip at your bottom lip. He shifts position to slot a thigh between your legs, tilting your hips to grind against him. 

When his domineering side peeks through, it makes it all the more fun for you to take control and watch him crumble. You let him believe he’s the one in charge for a few minutes, rocking your hips against him, whimpering into his kiss. He’s so worked up from your fun at the karaoke bar that he forgets you still hold on to the one thing that will make his knees buckle.

You sneak your phone out of your pocket, knowing full well that Seungmin is too far gone in the moment to notice. You crack one eye open as you open the app for the remote control of the vibrator still sitting snug around his hardening cock. He’s still lost in you, obsessed with the way you feel against him, hungry for you. Your thumb taps the button and amps up the vibration to almost the highest setting.

He yelps as his hips jerk towards you. As expected his knees turn to jelly and he collapses his weight against you, shaking from the sudden onslaught of sensation. The agony of pleasure paints his features, his brow furrowed and his jaw slack. He chokes on the moan that tries to escape. You kiss along his jaw to his ear and chuckle. 

“Nice try, Minnie,” you murmur. “A valiant effort, truly.”

He slides down your body, knees dropping him to the carpet. His fingers grip harshly onto your thighs as he whimpers, hips shuddering beneath you. He looks up at you, pleading in his eyes.

“Y/n… please-” 

“Oh, it’s not Y/n tonight,” you say, cupping his cheek. “Tonight, it’s Noona.”

You turn the vibration down to the lowest level. Reaching out, your fingers grip the collar of his shirt, dragging him back up to a standing position. You pull Seungmin close to your face, tilting your head leaning in like you’re going to kiss him. Just as his eyes close, you run your hand up his neck to his mouth, slipping two fingers inside gently. He whines as he wraps his lips around your digits, the hot silk of his mouth pulling you in. 

Using the leverage of your fingers in his mouth, you push him gently until he starts to walk backwards one step at a time. You walk him across the room this way until the back of his knees meet the mattress. Pulling your fingers out of his mouth, he falls into a seated position.

“I want your clothes off in the next 2 minutes. Go.”

He scrambles to undress himself, tearing off his shirt and fumbling with his belt. You cross your arms, standing in front of him, eye raking over him. His cock strains against his underwear, a small wet spot already visible in the fabric. When he’s finished, he sits on the bed and places his hands on his own thighs, flushed cock standing at attention.

“Good boy,” you purr, caressing his cheek.

His whole face lights up at the praise, eyes sparkling in the low light. You grin as you look over him, tilting his chin up and capturing his lips. He moans into your touch, hands balling into fists on his thighs, desperate to feel you. You lean into him, pressing a knee into the mattress between his legs. Seungmin’s cock twitches at the brush of your thigh and you can feel the vibrator thrumming away on the lowest setting.

“Y/n- I mean Noona…” he whispers. “Can I touch you?”

“You can do more than that, Minnie,” you say. “I need you to get me out of my clothes too.”

Grabbing his wrists, you feel a slight tremor in his hands when you place them on your body. His moves are tentative, each article of clothing he looks up and asks for a silent permission to continue. Soon his fingers graze over the textured lace of your bra, sliding around back to unhook it. 

Your breasts spill out of the cups as he takes off the garment, your nipples already pebbling in the cool air of the room. His eyes are locked on them, aching to have them in his mouth. He looks up again at you, eyes wide and full of asking. You run your hands over your breasts, rolling your nipples between your fingers, gasping at the touch. A whine builds low in the back of his throat while you tease him before you finally nod, giving him permission.

Seungmin wastes no time wrapping his lips around your nipple, hands coming up to knead at the soft flesh. Massaging and sucking on your skin with his warm mouth leaves you gasping. He uses his teeth to gently graze over the sensitive bud, drawing a moan from your throat. He’s just so good with his mouth.

While his mouth is occupied, his hands move down to your panties, hooking his thumbs in the elastic and pulling them down your hips. The fabric is wet, a string of arousal clings to them as Seungmin peels them off. When they drop to the floor, his hands slide back up to grip onto your ass, pulling you towards him again. Your hand snakes down, grabbing him tenderly by the throat and pulling his face away from where his tongue flicks over your nipple and back up to your face. 

Your lips collide in one devastating short kiss before you pull away. 

“Mouth, I need your mouth on me,” you pant out. Seungmin stands, lifting your body, and lays you down on the bed. He crawls up the bed, capturing your lips once more. You slip your fingers into his hair and grasp hard. He keens at the touch, his hips shaking and cock bobbing. He slots himself in between your thighs, your legs wrapping around his hips automatically. 

The way the tip of his cock brushes across your arousal has you both delirious. Seungmin rocks his hips against you, his cock slipping between your folds, grazing your clit with each movement. You meet his movement, grinding into his cock, whimpering into his mouth. Suddenly, you still, fingers grabbing his hair once more to pull him away. 

“I said I need your mouth, Minnie.” 

He already looks so fucked out, his expression dazed as he meets your eyes. He grins a dopey little grin, swooping down to peck you on the lips before shifting his body down until he’s level with your cunt.

“Of course Noona,” he says, looking up at you from below. He sticks out his tongue with a smile on his face, about to make contact with your with your clit when you interrupt him.

“Now there’s one rule you have to follow.”

“Anything, Noona,” he hums.

You pick up your phone once again and his eyes go wide.

“You’re not allowed to cum until I say so.”

The buzzing of the vibrator fills the room before Seungmin whines, hips rutting into the bed. His fingers dig into your thighs as you chuckle.

“Noo-nAAH…” he moans out in a low pitch, eyes scrunched shut. “Fffuck!”

You lower the vibration a smidge with a wicked smile on your face. Seungmin looks up at you again, his lashes wet from exertion. His cock is so overly sensitive from edging him and teasing him in public - not that you’re going to let up any time soon. The longer it takes, the better it feels. You reach down to ghost your thumb over his reddened cheek.

“Put that filthy mouth to work, Minnie.”

He nods, a devilish determination sparkles in his eye. He hooks his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to him and descends onto your cunt, kissing your wetness gently before devouring you. His tongue flat against you, he licks long stripes between your lips, savoring the taste. You buck your hips towards him, chasing away the ache from being turned on all night. Seeing Seungmin flushed and hard while he was on stage, and now fixated on making you cum with his tongue, has you wound so tightly already. 

His hips start grinding into the mattress again, whimpering into your cunt as you grab onto his hair. His tongue flicks against the swollen bundle of nerves as sloppy, wet sounds fill the room. You alternate between praising him and cursing at the way he has you pinned down, sucking your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around. It makes you dizzy hearing him moan into you.

You have just enough clarity of mind to grab your phone again and turn the vibration up, using your thumb to bounce the speed to the rhythm of his licks. With his cock trapped between his body, the vibrator, and the mattress, he shudders. His skin is buzzing as he pleads against your cunt for release. His desperation to cum paired with his desperation to make you cum first are battling inside of him. You see the way that tears well up in his eyes, decorating his lashes as he looks up at you from below. 

“Noona, I’m-!” he whines, voice cracking.

You shut off the vibrator completely, taking your feet and pressing them into his hips to stop them from moving. He nearly sobs in frustration, taking away the friction he needs to reach his peak. 

“FUCK!”

“I said no cumming until I say so.”

“But, Noona…” he whines, nose and cheeks flushed from unshed tears and desire. 

“No, you have one job right now, Min,” you say. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll make sure you get a reward. Do you want to be a good boy?”

He bites his lip and nods. 

“Good. Get back to work, love.”

A new emotion crosses his features, something like a vulnerable confusion. You’ve never called him “love” before, and it makes his heart flutter. Instead of asking you about it in the moment, he dives right back into you, tenderly kissing your cunt before teasing your clit.

It doesn’t take long to bring you to the edge again, your hips shaking as you squeeze your thighs around Seungmin’s head. He couldn’t care less that he can’t breathe in this moment. Hearing your cries and feeling you gush arousal on his tongue would be pleasure enough to die happily between your legs, lips wrapped around your clit. Breathing can wait. 

You whimper as you chase your high, grinding into his face as he barrages your cunt with his hot mouth. He groans, the sound reverberating in the very core of you. With a cry, your orgasm snaps through you, shattered by Seungmin’s tongue. His hands hold you down as you thrust against his face. As your muscles flutter around him, he doesn’t let up, lapping at you with the same fervor. 

It’s too much as you start to come down from your high. His tongue still flicks across your swollen clit, each lick sending a shock of painful pleasure zipping through your body. You tangle your hands in his hair again and pull him off your cunt with a lewd, slick pop! 

He greets you with that same dopey, fucked out smile, proud of his work. His chin is covered in your essence and he licks his lips.

“Kiss me,” you say, panting. 

You’re still trying to catch your breath as he clambers up your body and presses his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it drives you insane, pulling him closer to your body.

Even though his cock is still hard and leaking from neglect, he settles into your embrace. Your lips slide over his lazily and he’s content with just this. He just wants you in any capacity you’re willing to give him. Both of you notice his cock twitch when you mewl into his mouth, becoming very aware of how much he’s still throbbing with the need for release. 

You detach from his mouth and catch his gaze, tear streaks drying on his cheeks. He smiles at you, adoration plain on his face, until you sneak your hand between your bodies and gently brush the length of him with your fingers. 

“You did so good for me, Minnie,” you say. “Tonight, you get a little treat for that.”

You scoot up the bed until you’re sitting up against the headboard. Opening your legs, Seungmin looks at you curiously as you pat the spot between them. He crawls over to you, finding your lips again in a sweet, short kiss until you take him by the shoulders and gently turn him to face the other direction. His back presses up against your chest as you wrap him in an embrace, pressing light kisses to his neck.

“Noona, wh-”

“Shhh,” you hush him, pulling him closer, trailing your tongue over the shell of his ear.

He fully melts into your touch, his cock bobbing against his lower belly as his body relaxes. You rake your nails through his hair then roam around his body with a ghost of a touch. 

“Open your legs,” you whisper, grazing your nails lightly over his thighs.

He giggles, a shy little noise, as he spreads his legs. You caress over the delicate skin between his thighs and he sighs. Your hands snake around his middle as the heels of your feet hook around his thighs, prying them open further, confining him in such an exposed position.

“Noona…” he whines breathlessly, wiggling his hips. Despite his attempts to move, you have the leverage, bracing your feet into the bed to keep his thighs apart.

“I’ve got you, Minnie,” you whisper, grazing your teeth over his neck. “It’s my turn to play.”

He shudders in your grasp, hips jerking forward as your fingers skim over his nipples. The fabric of the bedsheet bunches in his clenched fists, head thrown back over your shoulder. The little whines that leave his mouth make you chuckle.

“I’ve barely touched you, are you that impatient?”

“Don’t laugh at me!” Seungmin wails. “So much teasing….all night…”

He pouts at you, thrusting his hips up slightly as you laugh. Your fingers trail down, brushing over his length ever so lightly. A bead of pre-cum leaks out of his tip. 

“Poor thing,” you coo, tauntingly. “You’re a mess.”

He hums miserably. He tries to close his thighs around your hand to trap it against his cock, but your legs hold him open as he writhes in your grasp. Your mouth latches on to his neck, sucking a bruising mark into his soft skin. The way your fingers trail around his girth, holding the tip of his cock in your touch and bouncing him gently in your hand. He moans at the way you’re playing with him, his cheeks flushing with the burn of embarrassment and a hot streak of lust. He feels like he’s back on stage in front of everyone, cock hard while he tries to keep his composure and sing. You’re controlling his every move and he’d gladly let you. 

The first full stroke over his cock has him keening, more pre-cum flowing from his tip. Your other hand rests lightly around his jaw. Two of your fingers press into his mouth and he sucks them down greedily with a hum, he thrusts himself into your touch, chasing the minute friction you’re allowing him. 

He braces his arms around your thighs, using the leverage to arch his back further in your embrace while he pumps into your hand. Drool spills from his mouth around your fingers as he fucks himself with your hand, slamming his eyes shut. He’s so close, the edge is approaching faster than he expected. He’s babbling, his hips stutter as he races towards his release-

Your hand leaves him completely and he sobs at the loss.

“Greedy little thing!” you say. Your hand comes down firmly on his thigh, slapping wetly against his skin. 

He throws his head back against your shoulder as he cries out, his cock still throbbing without your touch. Oh god, he can’t hold it back, tears slip down his cheeks again as he realizes he’s at the point of no return. Pearly white fluid leaks out of his tip, pooling against his pubic hair. He hasn’t even crested his peak yet but his cock acts like it’s crossed the finish line already as it bobs in the air, searching for stimulation. He ruined his own orgasm by chasing rather than receiving, by being selfish in your touch. He sobs against you, shame bubbling in his chest while his cum leaks out of him pathetically. He buries his face in his hands, unable to stop crying.

Emotions run high as you soothe him, still holding him tightly in your embrace. You gently reach up to his hands, threading your fingers in his, waiting for his breathing to slow down a bit more. 

“It’s okay, Minnie,” you murmur, planting soft kisses on the back of his neck. “I’ve got you.”

“This fucking sucks so bad!” Seungmin tries to wrench out of your grasp, but you hold him firmly against you.

“Hang on, Min. Give yourself a moment.”

“I already came! It was fucking pathetic!” He throws his head back against your shoulder, covering his eyes with his hand. “It just…leaked out of me, I didn’t even cum, but I sort of did? Who the fuck does that!”

You hush him, rocking him back and forth while he struggles with the sickly wave of feeling. After a few moments, he’s silent.

“Min?”

He hums in response, lost in his own downward spiral of sticky shame.

“Sweetie, your cock is still hard.”

His head perks up in confusion. He looks down at his cock to still find it standing tall, flushed and throbbing. 

“Oh…”

“Do you want me to continue?”

“Y-yes…” he says in a small voice. 

You gingerly take his cock in your hand, gauging his reactions. He hisses at the sensation, extra sensitive but not in the painful kind of way. He moans as you stroke over him carefully.

“Fuck, that feels so good, Noona,” he turns his head towards you, looking into your eyes. He furrows his brow, his eyes sparkling as he whimpers. 

“See? Your body is so good for me. It still wants you to feel good while also listening to the rules,” you murmur against his lips.

He nods, eyes fluttering shut as your hand picks up speed. This time, the feeling is more than just in his cock, it’s spreading warmth throughout his whole abdomen. His heart flutters in the safety of your grasp as you pump him in your hand. His heart racing as he feels his balls tighten, wanting to burst forth. The edge approaches much faster this time, a wave of pleasure rocketing through his body.

“N-noona….” he whines, his jaw slack. “Can I cum, please?”

You lean down to capture his lips as he groans into your mouth, tongues entangled as your hand keeps its momentum on his cock. He arches his back against you again, hips lifted off the bed.

“Yes, Minnie, cum for me!” you say.

His cock started pulsing before the words were even fully out of your mouth. Thick ropes spill out of him as he cries out, his muscles spasming after the last few hours of teasing. You hold him up as his back arches off of the bed completely, pumping him through his orgasm. Your hand keeps moving as his body starts to writhe from the overstimulation. The pain and pleasure jolts through him as he screams from your touch, cheeks red, and tears streaming down his face. Eventually, you catch him as he collapses against you, all the pent up energy spent in the matter of one moment. Seungmin is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his chest heaving as he takes a deep breath in, forgetting that his lungs need air.

Contentment washes over him as you caress over his heated skin, pressing kisses against his temple. 

“That was amazing, Min,” you murmur against his ear.

He hums in response, exhausted.

You shift gently as you get up to grab a wet washcloth to clean the two of you up. His hands find your body, holding you in his tired grasp, as you gently rub the cloth against his skin. Aftercare is one of the best parts of any sort of night you have together, the affection is overwhelming as it floods the room. You build up a sense of safety again, emotionally and physically, with one another.

You join him in bed again with some water nearby as he pulls you into an embrace. Your lips meet in a languid kiss, both of you too fucked out to lift your heads.

“Seungmin, I have a question for you,” you say, voice gravelly from the night’s activities.

“Anything,” he replies.

You shift to a sitting position, looking him deep in the eyes.

“Why Hootie and the Blowfish?”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #smut requests #request #not proofread #if you notice any mistakes... mind your business

[choilacanth]

this is not the greatest song in the world no-ohhhh, this is just a tribute

from the rock au still sprouting in my brain.

also. soul-gem powered tube amps. tel wielding a sick 8-string Ibanez. the 1997 yellow Nissan equivalent of a tour cart. half their songs are in drop G. they go to the soul cairn to release s/erana from her awful dadmanager and get a sick skeletal horse for the trouble. also there are still dragons and things like that, which is why they need the soul-gem powered tube amps for maximum overdrive thu'um.

(i am very very very shy about posting anything related to this AU as it gets incredibly silly and drags in music close to my heart)

but they also make some Ten D silly stuff poking fun at life in skyrim. this is just a tribute.

#i wish my brain grew vegetables instead of fungus #but we have fungus #not tagging them. this is so very silly. #reldryn rero #two sujamma rock au