#and it might not be things that matter. like what my new years songs were for the past 3 years. the names of my middle school teachers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strangersmunsons · 4 months

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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 2 Prompt: Chocolates 🍫 ~ 2,000 words Eddie's grumpy until he sees a familiar face in the candy aisle.

“This is a fake holiday,” mumbles Eddie as he pushes the cart past the pink and red aisle of Bradley’s Big Buy.

His uncle chuckles. “When you have someone to spend it with, you’ll feel differently.”

“Wayne,” Eddie deadpans, “this is just some bullshit that Hallmark made up so they could take more of our money.”

“I’m not sayin’ you need to go all commercial,” Wayne clarifies. “I just mean that when there’s someone special in your life, boy, you might be in a better mood during this month.”

Eddie’s mouth sets bitterly. He’d rather not get the ‘you’ll find someone someday’ talk right now — the last thing he needs is another reminder of how lonely he is.

Wayne senses his nephew’s reluctance to discuss the matter, and so bites his tongue. Instead, he points at a row of cans on the shelf beside them. “Do you need more tomato soup, or are you set for a while?”

Back at home, Eddie lays on the floor of his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Yeah, okay, maybe Wayne had a point. Maybe he’d hate all this stupid cutesy shit less if he didn’t have to watch everyone around him enjoy it while he spent yet another Valentine’s Day alone in his uncle’s trailer, with no one to keep him company, save for a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

The worst part of it is — and Eddie would rather die than admit this — that deep down, he thinks he really could be…romantic.

Sure, he’s rough around the edges. He tends to be prickly, wary of others’ intentions, but it’s necessary in order for him to survive in Hawkins. The Munson name was already notorious, and his reputation preceded him; the incident with poor Chrissy Cunningham three years prior, despite his innocence, had sealed his fate as the town pariah.

But if someone could just give him a chance, a real chance, he thinks that he could make that person really happy.

He’d help around the house. Cleaning, laundry, anything you — whoever you are — needed a hand with. He’d learn to cook better so he could keep you eatin’ good. He’d plan fun dates. He’d play your favorite songs on guitar, maybe write you new ones, if he was feeling inspired…anytime you needed him, he’d be there. He’d be the most reliable, affectionate, loving —

“Ed?” There’s a light knock on his door.

“Come in,” he calls back.

Wayne pokes his head into the room. “I’ve got to head to the plant in a few,” he says. “While I’m gone, can you do me a favor?”

Eddie sits halfway up, propped on his elbows. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Wayne fidgets, looking apologetic. “I know we were just there, but d’you mind going back to the Big Buy to pick up some candy? It’s Mrs. Johnson’s first Valentine’s Day since her husband passed, and I meant to get her something sweet, but I forgot.”

Eddie hauls himself up off the floor. “No problem. Want anything specific?”

Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t need nothin’ fancy, just get whatever’s cheapest that still looks nice.”

“That’s the Munson way,” Eddie muses, smiling in spite of himself.

Eddie reluctantly makes a turn down the seasonal aisle he had so pointedly avoided earlier, feeling depressed. Cherubs and teddy bears seem to mock him from where they sit, and he heaves a dramatic sigh.

His eyes roam the line of cards, plush toys, endless boxes of chocolates and candies, when they finally land on you, also perusing the rows of heart-shaped packages.

Recognition flickers instantly. Eddie suddenly finds that his heart is beating very quickly in his chest.

You.

You had still been a year behind him when he finally graduated, and though he didn’t really know you-know you, he was friends with people who did. You weren’t bullied like he and the guys were, but you weren’t exactly popular, either — and so more often than not, you ran in similar circles. Gareth and Harry used to swear up and down that you were the nicest girl in Hawkins.

Because of them, he had spent brief moments with you from time to time. He thought you had been very pretty, in your own unique way, but you were also rather shy. Your exchanges were always polite and charming, even if they never broke deeper than surface-level; overall, he’d found you incredibly endearing.

He never kept in touch, but as the years went by, he had often wondered about you.

Back then, it was hard to see past his own preoccupations: he was so focused on not failing his classes, Corroded Coffin, Hellfire, his dealing gig with Rick. But in retrospect, it always seemed to him like he had missed out on something special in not taking the time to properly befriend you.

Now, against all odds, you’re right here in front of him. And he had found you attractive back then, but now? Holy shit. You’re striking to look at.

As he studies your side profile, he thinks, it’s not that your appearance has really changed much, but rather the way you seem to be holding yourself.

You used to walk quickly through the hallways with your shoulders hunched and your head down, like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible. But now your posture is relaxed, your stance casual; your head is held high and a slight smile turns up the corners of your lips. And your clothes seem different too, like maybe you’d finally found your personal style, and were dressing in the way that you truly liked.

Is this what they call kismet? Fate, destiny, whatever, maybe Eddie’s fantasy-oriented brain was jumping to conclusions, but he thinks of the floor-misery he’d been wallowing in not even an hour ago — had his internal bitching been an unintentional prayer, which was now being answered?

He takes a few cautious steps forward, trying to act natural.

You glance at him when he comes nearer and offer him a quick smile before turning back to the sweet assortment before you.

Eddie stands next to you awkwardly, pretending to browse, hoping to see you make some gesture of familiarity, any confirmation that you might remember him as well as he remembers you.

But nothing. The seconds tick by.

You reach for a box of chocolates and Eddie’s overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. He starts sweating. Any second now, you would pluck a shiny, ribbon-adorned package and twirl away from him, vanishing into thin air, and the moment would be gone. His opportunity would be over, and he’d never, ever see you again.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out. His face turns crimson, but he blunders on anyway. “I don’t wanna bother you, but did you graduate from Hawkins High in ‘87?”

You turn to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, one arm still outstretched. A breathy laugh escapes you. “Yeah, I did.” You give him the tiniest wave. “Hi, Eddie.”

He could almost cry in relief. You do remember him.

“Hi.” He returns your wave, dopey grin unfurling on his face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you just now. I didn’t think you would remember me,” you explain apologetically.

Forget you? Absurd. “Of course I remember you. How’ve you been?”

Your voice is bright, cheerful. “I’ve been good! Busy with school.”

College, of course. You had definitely been an honor roll kid. “If you’re in school, then you don’t still live in town, do you?”

“Nah, my university’s too far. I got a place near campus, but I come home every now and then.” You smile, and motion towards yourself. “Obviously.”

“Oh. Nice.” Eddie twiddles his thumbs nervously. “Are your classes going good?”

“For the most part. They’re stressful sometimes, but that’s to be expected, I guess.”

“Yeah, but you’re super smart. I’m sure you’re killin’ it up there.”

“I’m trying my best,” you reply with a modest shrug. “What about you? What have you been up to lately?” You look at him with genuine interest, like you’re truly eager to hear about how he’s doing.

Oh, what to say. He opts for simplicity. “Bartending. At the moment I’m between The Hideout and The Attic. Although, I’m thinkin’ about trying to get a job at the garage instead.”

“You should!” Your voice is sincere, full of warmth. “I bet you’d be great there — I know you did a lot of work on your van.”

A bolt of pleasure runs through him. You didn’t just remember his name and face, but you recalled some minor details about him as well. He stands a little taller. “Thank you. We’ll see if it works out, I suppose.”

There’s a brief pause. Eddie moistens his chapped lips with his tongue. “Listen…”

Do it, you coward. If she says no, she says no, and you’ll get over it. Eventually.

“Um, if you’re ever home for the weekend, would you maybe wanna hang out? Grab a coffee or something?”

You look taken aback, but not displeased. Eddie counts that as a win.

“Sure. That would be really fun.”

He flashes you a grin. “Sick.” Then it occurs to him: you came home for Valentine’s Day weekend. Surely you’re in Hawkins because you have a date lined up with some former classmate who swooped in and asked you out after he had gone, and that’s who you were buying candy for and —

“I’m assuming you’re busy this weekend, though?” You point at the treats in front of you. “‘Cause I see you’re here to pick up the goods,” you tease him cheerfully.

“Oh, n-not really,” he stammers. “Wayne asked me to pick up something for our neighbor. I’m just an errand boy.” He swallows. “Do you have any big plans?”

“Nope,” you reply casually, lips popping the p-sound. You pull the candy you’d be aiming for before he interrupted, a pack of Hershey’s cream-filled chocolate hearts. You nod at him sagely. “I am my own Valentine this year.”

You don’t need to be. I’ll volunteer.

Eddie musters up all his courage, rocking slightly on his feet. “Actually, if you don’t have plans…like, if you’re not seeing anybody…would you wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” Nerves get the better of him and he starts pouring out word-vomit, totally oblivious to the way your expression is getting softer and softer the longer he rambles. “I get that it’s Valentine’s Day, I don’t know if you think that’s really…weird for a first date, or…if you even wanna go on a date with me at all, which if you don’t, that’s totally fine and I understand —”

“I don’t think that would be weird at all,” you cut in, giving him a smile that could melt an iceberg. “Eddie, I would love to go on a date with you.”

He feels like he’s having a fever dream. This can’t be real. Is this what manifesting is?

From now on, when he wants something, he’s gonna go cry on his bedroom floor about it.

Painfully aware of how clumsy his proposition came out, Eddie tries to put at least one suave move on you. “Well, if we really have a date tomorrow,” he says, swiping the Hershey’s from you, “then there’s no reason for you to be buyin’ your own chocolates. Allow me.”

Ten minutes later, both of you armed with candies and a phone number apiece, Eddie escorts you across the icy parking lot to your car. You grip his arm tightly crossing over a slippery patch of asphalt, and his stomach flutters in a way it hasn’t in years.

Okay, okay.

Maybe there is something to be said for this stupid, fake holiday.

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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loveliestlovelygirl · 3 months

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tangle of strings

pianoteacher!anakin x student!reader

synopsis: mr. skywalker has been your piano instructor since you were fourteen years old. from the moment you met, you knew he was the one. he never expressed his feelings for you vocally, despite all the time you spent together. but after you turn eighteen and prepare to leave for college, he changes his tune.

w.c: 6.9k

warnings!! {minors dni}, dark content, grooming heavily featured, sexual content occurs after the reader is 18, p in v, fingering, oral, fem!reader, gentle dom!anakin, sub!reader, "loss" of virginity, jealousy, religious themes

the content you consume is your responsibility ♡

The piano is the only thing Mr. Skywalker told you that he loved.

He was never spotted with a girl or anyone for that matter in a romantic sense. He was always single, which never made sense to anyone in your small town because he is handsome. He’s always been handsome. His yearbook pictures from high school proved it.

When you would go over to his house for piano lessons, he would show you many things from his life, like his award cabinet, filled with every trophy and certificate he’s won from piano competitions or his yearbook photos. Those photos were one of the first things he showed you. It was one of your first memories of just you and him.

Mr. Skywalker takes a big stack of books off the shelf in his library all at once. Using his strength to balance the dusty books on his arms, he brings them to the reading table where you sit. He takes off the top one and opens it up before you.

Eventually, you find his picture. You cover your mouth as you giggle. He had thick glasses making him look like a nerd. But he was cute. So, undeniably cute to you. You wish he could be the same age. You would want to be his friend. You would want to kiss him.

If you were the same age, he could be yours.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he muses, his large body looming behind you as he looks over your head to gaze at the picture. “I used to be the kid everyone picked on. When I’d get home, I would write a song about how I was feeling. Some of those songs inspired the ones I play at my shows.”

When he talks, you gush. His warm voice is safe. He’s the kind of person you could tell all your secrets to.

And you did tell him everything you couldn’t tell your parents. You’d tell him your deepest secrets. Like the boys you crushed on. Or your new feelings of lust towards them that caught you off-guard as a teen. He understood you like no one else in the whole world. He was the first to know about your first kiss when you were sixteen. And he seemed… jealous when you told him.

“I don’t know how it happened,” you say. “One moment, we were talking and laughing. And the next thing I know, Drew is pushing me down on the bed to kiss me!” you squeal. “But don’t tell my parents. They’ll think I’m a whore.”

Mr. Skywalker pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I always keep your secrets. Drew is the boy in your history class, correct?”

You nod, amazed that he would remember. The last time you spoke of Drew had been several months ago. But he always pays attention to even the smallest details. That’s how you know he cares.

“I don’t know if he’s good for you,” he mutters, noticeably bitter about something. “Does he really know you? I think… he doesn’t. He’s probably just trying to use you.”

Mr. Skywalker is much older than you. And wiser. So you take his advice to heart. Maybe you shouldn’t see Drew tonight after all.

“How many times have you been kissed?” you ask him, your voice all innocent. Although your motives were anything but pure. While you might have just shared a kiss with Drew, there is one man who is truly the object of your greatest desires. You just haven’t found a way to tell him.

He shakes his head. “You know I’d rather talk about you.” That’s what he says when you pry too deeply into his private life, which only adds to your secret obsession

Anakin has always been the one thing that rivals your obsession with your instrument of choice. And it’s the only secret you kept from him all through high school because you knew he couldn’t possibly feel the same way about you.

Even if the small touches, the secret looks, and long hugs seemed to indicate otherwise. You were too afraid to ask him what it all meant. He never gave that kind of attention to anyone else.

And as an awkward teen, you were furious that you couldn’t express your love to him directly. You kept telling yourself that you would when you’re older. When you turned eighteen, you would confess to him.

Since you couldn’t tell anyone, even him, about this secret, you’d use the piano to share your soul, to put your feelings out into the atmosphere. When you play, no matter where you are, you feel him sitting on the bench beside you, watching over you.

He taught you everything you know now. He’s the reason you chose to major in Piano Performance in college to the great horror of your parents. But what did they expect? They watched you sacrifice your youth for excellence in your craft. The nights were filled with pools of tears, cries, and screams as you played until you got the part, section, or note just right.

When your fingers rest on the ivory keys, you feel him and nothing else. He’s your muse in every song you write.

The piece that won you a full scholarship to your dream university, you wrote it while thinking of Anakin. Your beloved piano teacher. Your closest friend. Your secret love.

He’d been in your life for so long, giving you lessons when you first showed an interest in music. How could you not love him?

He went to the same church that your family attended every Sunday. He played piano sometimes during worship service if the music minister was out on vacation or fell ill. Church was how your father met him, and they became good friends. He often came to your Sunday lunches.

Your mom always cooked fried catfish or fried chicken because that’s what your dad wanted. Mr. Skywalker, as you called him back in your high school years, would eat two plates of food. He’d say things like “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in years,” even if he was at your house just last week. You would laugh the loudest at his jokes. As you think about them now, you realize they weren’t funny, but you’re in love with him so it doesn’t matter.

After lunch, your parents would take care of the food and dishes, giving alone time with him. Like a young pup, you’d follow him outside on the back porch where you’d sit side by side on the creaky old swing.

“Do you cook or bake?” he asks you.

You haven’t the slightest idea of why he’d ask such a thing. You still lived with your parents. Your mom does most of the cooking. Your dad grills sometimes. “No. I get scared that I’ll burn myself.”

Suddenly, he reaches over for your left hand, the closest one to him, from your lap and holds it between his great palms. “Cold,” he whispers. He massages your fingers to revive them. “I wouldn’t want you to burn your hands. They’re so perfect… for playing.”

Anakin looks down at what he’s doing to you and his expression sours. At the time, you don’t know why. You wonder if you said or did something he doesn’t like because the mood changes instantly. He drops your hand and pats your thigh.

“You have piano hands, remember?” he reminds you. He smiles at you, and you feel secure again.

That’s exactly the thing that you always tell him. His hands spread out further than a whole octave, while you struggle to hit the two octave notes simultaneously without pulling a muscle. His fingers are long, and his palms are wide. You can’t compete with that.

You wonder what other things he’s good at with hands like those.

For the entirety of your high school existence, you pined and pined after him. He was always on your thoughts every minute of every day. You never grew sick of daydreaming about him. And on occasion that was reflected in your grades though you maintained a high GPA regardless. Every week was just your going through the motions of life mindlessly, only waiting for two short hours out of the week on Friday which was when you took lessons with him.

You lived solely for those two hours in which he gave you piano lessons free of charge. He said it was because you had such potential, but still to this day, you like to think he reciprocated some of your feelings even before he actually made a move on you.

For those two hours, you would sit right up against him on the leather cushion of the piano bench and play for him whatever pieces you were working on or things he assigned you from the previous week. He was never harsh with you even when you weren’t getting something.

You throw your hands on the keys, striking a dissonant chord that makes you both wince. Mr. Skywalker instantly pulls your hands away.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he said with concern. “I promise you’ll get this. It just takes time. I know you practice too much as it is.”

“I want to be good! I want to be a star!” With that, you break down instantly and cry. He never minds when you cry in front of him.

“One day, you will be. I believe in you,” he soothes you, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head as if you belong to him. He hugs you. “We can try again when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” you say, leaning against him to hear the echo of his heart. His heartbeat is sensual to you, even at sixteen. You can’t explain it. These stupid hormonal feelings you have for him are so wrong. But when you look up into his passionate eyes, you see the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. You have to marry him. You have to.

From the time you were five, you were afraid of thunder and lightning. Terrified by it actually. The fear is still with you today. But it was so much worse in middle school and high school. You started taking lessons from Anakin when you were fourteen years old. And you were still such a child then. You remembered the time it stormed so hard during your lesson that you had to spend the night at his house because it was too dangerous for your mother to come pick you up. But that also meant you couldn’t hide your abnormal fear of a thunderstorm from Anakin.

He had this giant plush rug under the piano. When you asked him about it, he said that it caught the sound. At the tail end of your lesson, the night you had to stay over, lightning struck close to his house and spooked you so much that you shrieked and slipped under the piano, curling up on that soft rug like a scared puppy.

Anakin was such a sweetheart because he followed you there.

“Hey,” he whispers, rubbing your back, “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

You cry into your arms, hiding your face. “I know! I know it’s stupid of me. I just—”

“It’s not stupid. We all have different fears.” After he says that, he lies on his back beside you. “But I won’t let the storm hurt you, okay. We can stay here all night.”

And that you did. You cowered under the grand piano in his parlor all night long. That was the first time you ever cuddled with a boy, only he was a man almost twice your age. But that didn’t bother you. And it seemed not to bother him. He let you hold onto him through the night and squeeze him a little harder when you heard thunder. It has been one of your most precious memories of your piano teacher.

You had always known Anakin could be a little jealous. Any time you would mention your school friends the air would get tense, as if he didn’t want you to have anyone else in your life but him. He never said that, but he didn’t have to. There was always rage somewhere beneath the still blueness of his eyes, but his rage was never directed towards you until you told him that Drew wanted you to be his girlfriend.

You were seventeen. And you were so excited to have your first boyfriend even if you weren’t in love with him. At least people might not tease you for still being a virgin because it wouldn’t be so obvious. Anakin never did make fun of you for your innocence. He always said that it’s okay to wait until you’re ready or for the right person.

Immediately after you share the news of your official relationship with Drew, he freezes and closes the lid to the piano keys.

His jaw is tight. His voice is tense. “Maybe... we should be done for today.” He doesn’t even acknowledge what you said, as if he’s afraid to.

But you have no one else to celebrate with. Drew is a secret you keep from them because he’s not involved in church. “Did you hear me?” you press.

He grinds his teeth hard, and you hear bone against bone. Anakin nods. “I did.”

You nudge his arm. “Well?”

“Well what?” he snaps bitterly. He turns slightly to glare at you. “You know how I feel ab—about him.”

You roll your eyes. Anakin is a dramatic guy sometimes. “Drew isn’t that bad. He can be sweet. And he’s going to take me to prom!”

Anakin rises off the piano bench and pats down his black slacks. “So, you don’t care what I think then?” He’s staring down upon you with overwhelming disapproval. The muscles of his arms bulge when he crosses them over his chest.

Palms against the leather cushion, you hold yourself up. You notice yourself trembling when you realize that he’s not teasing you. He’s very upset... with you. Why would he be—does this mean—does he feel something after all?

“Of course, I do, Mr. Skywalker.”

“I told you not to get close with him!” he shouts. You’ve never heard him raise his voice at you. “He has bad intentions. He’s just a dumb kid. What does he know about loving you?”

You start to sob. “I’m sorry. I thought you might be... happy for me?”

He scoffs. And it sounds like you disgust him right now. “I don’t want to hear about him ever again. I don’t want to know anything about your little boyfriend. Do. You. Understand?”

Having him speak to you that way made you feel like a little girl. And you hated that feeling more than anything else. You knew that you were innocent, and you hated yourself for it because it made you feel inadequate to love the man you really wanted.

But now you’d do anything to have that innocence again. You didn’t realize at the time how free you once were. Growing up was harder than you thought it would be. It almost broke you.

You were lucky to have someone like Anakin to build you back up again, even if he was the one that tore you down that time.

After he yelled at you, you rushed out of his home as quickly as you could. The silence lasted a day. And then he drove to your house and knocked on your door. He held in his hands a bouquet of white roses and on his lips was the apology you were waiting for.

Nothing changed between you after that. Until your next birthday came around.

Up to your eighteenth birthday, your interactions were mostly harmless. But when you turned eighteen, an official adult, the tension between you had changed. The energies you both entertained shifted and became... dare you say... sexual to a degree. Anakin seemed to treat you a little differently now that you were fair game.

To celebrate your eighteenth birthday, he was there. In fact, he was the only one you insisted that mother invite. Not Drew or any of your school friends. Just Anakin. And he had to be there because he really was your one true friend. You couldn’t imagine celebrating your birthday without him. He was always a guest at your birthday parties, but he gave you a special gift this year, one so unforgettable that sometimes you hear it clear as day.

Anakin wrote you a piano solo. One that was simple, sweet, and addicting. You told him to play it again and again. After cake and presents, you made him teach you how to play it. You were very proficient now, and often could play things just by hearing them once. But the chords he chose for your song were unique and shouldn’t have meshed so well together. But they did. Just like you and him. Unlikely friends. Star-crossed lovers in your head.

The two of you stayed at the piano all evening, messing around with the song. By the end, you both had figured out how to layer the notes and chords in an even more perfect duet. Playing piano with him was almost the best birthday gift in the world to you. But it was not what you wished for.

You wished for a kiss.

But that would mean you’d have to tell him how you felt. And you were terrified. As an adult, now you could. It was more empowering than you thought it could be.

But you never did find a chance to tell me on your birthday. You were too afraid to ruin your night with a love confession. You know he would do the right thing and reject you, but that didn’t stop you from dreaming for the impossible.

When you walked him outside to his car—you insisted—your secret birthday wish came true. Not in the way you expected. But a kiss did happen. Your piano teacher kissed you on the cheek. Your face burned the whole night through. You couldn’t sleep because you wanted to know what it meant. He had never used his lips to touch any part of you before.

Physical contact had always been an important part of your bond with Anakin since the beginning. There were always the hugs that lasted just a little too long. And he seemed to always find an excuse to hold your hand. But he was your piano teacher, and the hand-to-hand contact always felt necessary and never strange.

But following your very special birthday, you found him staring at you a little longer, a little more deeply, and he seemed to always find an excuse to touch you, not in a sexual way but in a way that led you to believe the attraction wasn’t one sided.

He’d tuck your hair behind your ears, brush the side of your arm, and sit impossibly close to you that you swore you could almost hear his heartbeat. Anakin had never been hesitant to touch you before, but if there were any boundaries before, they were forgotten by him. And you enjoyed it. His new attention made you feel special and wanted. And that was all you ever wanted.

You began to touch him too. And seek physical attention from him. You would nuzzle his arm. Slip your fingers between his. Tap your shoes against his. He’d always notice, and he always hugged you or kissed your cheek in response.

You two were getting closer than ever before. Sometimes... you would barely touch the keys, getting lost in conversation. At this point, Drew and any other boy you were interested in before might as well have been dead. There was only room in your heart for Anakin.

And you had discovered a way to tell him without using your fragile words.

You sit on the bench waiting for him to get off the phone with his mother. She called him shortly after he let you in. About ten minutes later, he comes back.

“Sorry. I was worried she was in trouble,” he says, taking his spot beside you. “Now, where were we last week?”

“We... didn’t really go over anything.”

He bites into his full lower lip with a mischievous look in his eyes. “What are you paying me for then?”

You laugh because you’ve never once paid him for his time. You nudge his thigh with yours. “Honestly, I don’t really think there’s much more you could teach me.”

He raises a brow. “Oh really?”

You nod. “Actually, I’ve been writing something for you.”

His jaw lowers, and his mouth hangs open slightly. “How long have you kept this secret?”

“Since my birthday.”

He slips his arm around your back and rests his hand on your hip. “I’m impressed. Show me?”

You gulp heavily. That had been the plan today. It is ready for him. He’d never judge you even if it were bad. But you know that it’s not. You know that he’ll know what this piece means. He knows you too well. He’s too perceptive of everything. You wrote it in his favorite key, C minor.

With your hands a little shaky, your fingers glide softly across the piano and press down powerfully in chords. Through music, you profess your love. Anakin sits beside you and waits for you to finish. When you do, he’s waiting, staring with tears thickening his dark eyelashes. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything, but you know... he knows how you feel.

You tug on his shirt, drawing him closer. A war of heart and mind reflects on his face. He’s doubting what he wants. His resistance is half-hearted. It isn’t long before he scoops you up in his arms and kisses you. This time his mouth is on your lips, wetting them, and tugging them apart to fill you with his tongue.

Drew was never this good. His mouth was sloppy and tight. Anakin kisses like he’s done this a thousand times before. And he kisses like he wants you. Like he’s wanted you for such a long time, despite how wrong you both know that is.

He holds you down in his lap, and you hug him tightly, carding your fingers through his dreamy hair. You start to feel lightheaded because you haven’t been able to breathe, but you don’t want to stop him. If you stop him, he might think and realize that he doesn’t want you anymore.

But you’re dying. Turning blue. You tap his shoulder. And he stops devouring you. His lips sparkle when he smiles. “Too much for you, baby?”

You sharply inhale, finally catching your breath. You shake your head. You want more. You need it. More isn’t even enough.

You spend the whole lesson entangled with one another until your mother comes to pick you up.

For the next month, that’s all you did. Kiss and kiss and kiss. Breathe and breathe and breathe. And kiss some more. You wondered why he was waiting to take you to his bed. You wanted that with him, but he never asked you to go that far. He seemed afraid. Even when his affection was overflowing in passion as you always knew it would be, it was clear that he was holding himself back. Did he need you to tell him what to do?

Your make out sessions extended beyond just your lesson time. Whenever he would come over to your house, he would go upstairs with you to your bedroom, and you’d end up tangled in the sheets. Though with every item of clothing on. Your parents never suspected anything was happening to their young, virtuous daughter. They trusted him completely. And so did you. You would have done anything he asked of you no matter the risks.

Even at church, he’d find a way to get you alone. In the girl’s bathroom. During the preacher’s sermon.

Anakin lifts you onto the sink and spreads your legs out so that he can fit between them and get close to you. Thumb under your chin, he tilts your face up to his. He grins before going in for a kiss.

Your lavender baby doll dress rides up your thighs as he inches closer. He presses up against the crotch of your panties. The dampness is cold against your tender flesh. His erection only grows as the friction between you builds, your bodies rubbing against each other in a clothed attempt to satisfy yourselves sexually.

And now you’re glad you waited and didn’t mess around with Drew like he wanted when you were together. Because that means Anakin could be your very first.

He freezes up when you try to unbuckle his big belt. Anakin looks at you strangely, almost disturbed by your actions.

You lean to his ear and whisper, “I. Want. It.” You had thought your seductive voice would be enough to cast him off the edge of all hesitation, that he’d bend to your will and give you what you want.

But all you did was kill the fire.

Head shaking, he backs away. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

And you didn’t see him for nearly a month after that. But you don’t regret what you said. You were tired of just endless make out sessions. It seemed so immature, and you knew you were ready for something real.

All of those memories, those beautiful capsules of your favorite times with Anakin, are the reason you find yourself on his doorstep, a quarter till midnight in the pouring rain.

Complete desperation.

You took your moms car without permission just to drive over despite the threat of a storm. And you’re still deathly afraid of them. But you came anyway. Because tomorrow, you’re leaving for college. You might not get another chance to fix things. Death would be better than living another moment without him.

“You haven’t been answering my texts or my calls, Anakin.”

The door is barely cracked open, just enough that you can see his pale face. Dark circles surround his rainy eyes.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, not even making eye contact.

Thunder echoes behind you. The wind blows your hair around. Leaves rustle, filling the silence between you both. It’s going to storm soon. You had been stupid enough to drive to his house just before a storm. But you couldn’t take not knowing what had happened to him and why he was dodging your calls.

The eyes that used to linger a little too long won’t acknowledge you even as you stand in front of him.

“Why are you being like this? This isn’t you!” you nearly scream. You’re so afraid that he’s not only pushing you away but also ejecting you from his life completely, as if the memories you share can be erased. He’s engrained in almost every memory you have.

“It can’t happen. Go away.”

He tries to close the door on you, but you stick the toe of your right shoe in the crack before it shuts.

“Please… please don’t do this.”

Anakin’s eyes are bloodshot as if he’s been crying. “What I want isn’t right. I can’t do it. I don’t know if I could live with myself after.”

Does he really hate me so much? Is that the truth? Perhaps it’s your naivety, but you won’t let him go so easily. You have suffered in silence for nearly a decade, pining after him, waiting for him to reciprocate the depth of your feelings. Your hands shake as you reach out to him. If he would just… hold your hand like he used to, then maybe everything would be alright.

Your fingertips brush against each other. You feel the spark instantly, and it travels down your spine, leaving you wanting to touch him more.

“What about what I want?”

Anakin blinks several times before he speaks. It’s as if he didn’t consider your feelings in this decision. “You’re… not in a position to see things clearly. You’re—”

“Don’t say it!” you exclaim, squeezing your fists. “I’m not a child. I’m all grown up. And you know it. You see it.”

Anakin sighs a long time, his eyes scanning down your body. “Of course, I see it. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

Though you can never overpower him, you still try to force the door open. “Just let me in. We can talk. Just let me talk to you.”

Anakin’s frown is firm, and his stillness enforces that he’s not backing down. “I don’t know. If I let you in… if you cry… I’ll want to hold you. Then things might happen. I don’t know if I can control myself around you.”

Hugging yourself, you gaze upwards, into eyes that finally meet yours. His eyes reveal his mourning, his grief, his lust. It’s the latter that sends shivers through your body. The knowing that he wants you is more than you can take.

“I don’t want you to.”

There.

You said it.

You have told him exactly what you want. And if you hadn’t made it painfully obvious before, he knows now that you’re no longer thinking like a little girl.

Following a sigh of defeat, he backs away from the door, and you move in.

All the lights are off in his home. He must have been sitting in the dark like a vampire. The piano lid is open. He never left it open unless he was actively playing.

Anakin strides across the room to seat himself on the piano bench. He taps the spot next to him. “You’re right.... We should talk. Talk. Nothing more.”

Sitting beside him here feels like the most natural thing in the world. Here, you’re not afraid to speak from the heart. He’d never judge you even if he disagrees. But you’re not so sure he disagrees this time.

He wants you too.

“I couldn’t let you go back. I can’t believe you drove in the rain.”

You shrug. “It’s just rain. The storm hasn’t—”

The windows flash like they would in a horror flick, and thunder comes after. With a whimper, you grab onto his arm.

“I can drive you back home once we talk,” he says emotionlessly, gently pulling you off him.

But you double down and grab his arm, tugging him back again. “Don’t push me away.”

He doesn’t do it again. He stills. And sighs. “That’s the last thing that I want to do.”

With your chin resting on his sleeve, you look up at him, wide-eyed. “Just kiss me like you always do. And don’t think about it.” You stretch your arm out and fiddle with the top button of his dress shirt. “I’m not thinking.”

His chest rises and falls with his breaths. He doesn’t stop you as you unbutton his shirt.

When you rise on your knees, you’re at eye level. He’s so much bigger than you even now. He makes you feel so small. Holding onto his arm, you lean close and peck his clean-shaven cheek. He winces as if you pricked him with a needle.

“Angel, I shouldn’t.”

You kiss him again, closer to his lips, almost tasting him. “It’s me. Don’t you want me?”

Finally, he turns and looks in your eyes. Then at your mouth. “Don’t tell anyone. You... understand how this might look. What they might say about—”

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” you whisper. “What’s one more?”

You finish unbuttoning his shirt for him. Taking care of him feels good. You run your fingertips down his chest and his abdomen. His bare skin. It’s soft and warm. Suddenly, he grabs your wrist.

“Cold hands,” he murmurs. He takes your hands between them. He rubs his hands over your fast to warm them with friction.

“Sorry.”

Still rubbing your hands, he stands and leads you to the back of his grand piano near the flashing window.

Any other time, you would be trembling in fear because of the loud storm, but tonight you’re trembling because of the new feelings bubbling inside you. You’ve never been so aroused before.

“Can I hold you?” he says as pulls you into his embrace.

You can hear his steady heartbeat and feel it pumping right against your sensitive ear. Your piano teacher holds you against him and tangles his talented fingers in your hair. He sniffs your neck before taking a bite. His teeth pinch your flesh, and his tongue soothes you. The pain he leaves in several spots along your neck means that he’s marked you as his.

Your own heart is racing at lightning speed. You can’t think. In his arms, you’re helpless to his whims. You need him to tell you what to do. All you want is to please him.

“I’ll do anything,” you whisper to him so weakly you question if he hears you.

Anakin slowly unzips the back of your dress. “Consider this a teaching moment.” His voice doesn’t sound like it usually does. The undertones are sultry and possessive. “I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to—” He stops to pull down your dress, and his eyes wander over your pretty body. You wore transparent lace underwear and a matching bralette. He can see everything you hide from the rest of the world.

And he tells you, “You’re perfection.”

That makes you want to kiss him so badly. You try to lift yourself to reach his lips, but he’s too tall.

“Be patient,” he chides. “I want you to lay down first.” He guides you under the piano.

You lie down on your back atop the giant rug. Instantly, relaxation takes over as you remember all the times you used to lie here with him, hiding from the storm. Never did you think this would be the place where you’d give yourself to him. This must be meant to be.

He follows you after fully undressing. His body is every inch a man’s. His size makes you feel so small. He runs the risk of crushing you with his weight.

Lying on his side, he looks down at you, watching his own fingers running under the elastic of your lacy panties. “Take these off and spread your legs.” He whispers kisses to your cheek. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Nodding, you do as you’re told and wiggle out of your underwear. He snatches them from you and crunches them in his hands before throwing them over his shoulder. You proceed with fanning your legs open. The air is frigid as it touches you.

Anakin is looking where no one else has. “I’m so proud of you for waiting. Saving yourself just for me.”

You gasp as he kisses you between your legs. He kisses you there for a long time. It feels strange and wonderful. The feeling building inside you makes you moan and your toes curl. You feel so good your body aches. You hear your own heartbeat. You breathe but can’t find relief. Nothing soothes the need inside you but his mouth, his lips, his tongue. And before long you hit the breaking point, pleasure storming through your body from your place beneath him. Your cries are dampened by the thunderous sounds outside, but he hears you. He stops to look at your face. Making eye contact with him heightens the vulnerability of the situation. The intense way he looks at you burns. He notices every little change in your expression.

Anakin knows he made you feel good, but he still asks, “Did you like that?” He brushes the wild strands of hair away from your face. You know you’re precious to him. He sweetly kisses your forehead. “I like your taste.”

Your cheeks are seared by that comment. You cover your eyes, not wanting to let him see how he’s affecting you. “I did like it.”

“Do you want to do more?” He kisses your lips this time, and you taste yourself. “I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready!” you lift your head up and cup his cheek. “Don’t make me wait longer. I’m leaving tomorrow.” You bite your lip, knowing how dangerous what you’re about to say is because of who you’re saying it to. “Do you really want some college guy to be the one who gets me first?”

As if trying to reject the image you gave his mind, he closes his eyes and tightens his jaw. “No,” is his short answer. From the way his lips are pressed together, you know he wants to say more, but he’s saving you from his own selfish anger.

“Me either.” You rub his cheek with your thumb. “Anakin,” it feels right to call him by his first name instead of Mr. Skywalker, “I’ve waited for you. I always knew this would happen.”

He chuckles lightly. “I never gave you permission to use my name. Don’t forget—” he grunts as he slides two of his fingers between your slick folds and pushes them inside, “your manners, young one.”

These same fingers were the ones that rested atop yours when you were first learning to play piano. They pointed to the right key when you played the wrong note. They pointed to the sheet music to guide you along for all these years. They held your hands when they were cold.

And now he’s using them to teach you something new. But he’s just as skilled at fingering you as he is with music. You’re like his new instrument. He’s plucking all the right strings in just the right way to make you cry out for him. With your body pliant, he controls when you come. He doesn’t make you wait for it. He uses his thumb too and nudges until you come. It’s wetter than the last. And he instructs you to lick his fingers off when he’s done.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks again. “Don’t hate me for asking.” He hangs his head a little.

What he doesn’t understand is how insatiable he’s caused you to be. There were so many times you thought you might explode from how desperately you wanted him. But now it’s okay if that does happen.

“Keep going. Please,” you beg. You’re not ready to stop. You’ve waited for this moment since you were fourteen years old. If it were up to you, you’d live here forever.

“If that’s what you really want,” Anakin moves from lying at your side to settling himself between your legs.

“It is,” you reassure him. Holding onto his neck, you pull yourself up a bit. “Can you kiss me too?”

He grins before pushing you down, his large hand spread out over your soft stomach, and he chases your lips as you fall. You’re partially distracted by his mouth as his cock slides inside you. You had expected it to be more of a challenge, all things considered. Throughout high school, your friends always complained about how much it hurt their first time. Some girls bled too. And that had scared you, which is one of the reasons you never took Drew up on his many offers of a “good time.” Deep down you knew he wouldn’t treat you right. But Anakin clearly is experienced with having sex. Maybe he wasn’t as alone as you thought he had been all those years.

This being your very first time, it does sting when he fills you completely, his bony hips pressed against yours. You feel the tightness and the stretch. But you enjoy how it feels. You’re so close to passing out just because this is as close as you can get to someone.

Anakin rocks in and out slowly. Maybe he can feel that you’re tired. He’s being gentle with you despite how much he wants to rail your cunt to shreds. You can tell when he’s holding himself back. He has that weary, pained look in his rainy eyes. A part of you wants to tell him that it’s okay. Let go. But you both know that you couldn’t handle the full extent of his lust.

“Can I come inside you?” he asks before sinking his teeth into a bruise along your neck.

Short of breath, you answer, “I said... anything.”

“Okay,” his shaky voice whispers. He buries his face into the curve of your neck and moans your name into your skin. He pulls your hair gently as he finishes, his heat spreading through your core. It’s so much that you feel it leaking out.

After, he holds you there all night long. He doesn’t let you leave. And you wouldn’t want to escape.

The three words he says to you as you leave his house the morning after, you realize that he’s lied to you all the years you’ve known him.

The piano isn’t his only love or his only obsession.

It’s an outlet, and yet a mask for his sin nature which you understand more deeply than any other girl ever will.

He’s kept his real obsession hidden from everyone but you.

add yourself to my taglist!! @hanasnx @princessswifie @doblasftcisco @multifandermissesanakin @jadegmfu @coldkiss @mysteriouslydelightfulcloud @karei009 @anda-the-valkyrie @avoxzy @edclynns @ter-luer @anakinniesluv @purelevna @forets-noyees @anisgirl7 @reine-lalune @ssskywalkerrr @anakinsbbgirl @sweetcheesecakesblog @moonlight-kr @anonymous1996s @luvanaise @ziggystarduzzt @gwdnsqal @lonelywitchv2 @tembud @obsessedrebel @c-losur3 @just-here-to-readd @slut4ani @abaker74 @anakinbbg @ellebunnie @sandymorgan12 @ultraviolenceticket @emotionallybruisedx @ririszn @itsoneofusworld @pheonixfucu @kittycai @mushy-mushroom04 @crack240 @emotionallybruisedx

@universallypiratecolor

inbox me if you want to be removed from the taglist. ty

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kettlefire · 1 year

Text

DP x DC Angst Prompt

Inspired by the song Preacher by Roe Kapara

"This is a distress signal from Amity Park Illinois." A scared teen girl was the face to meet the staticy camera. Red hair pulled up in a messy bun, tear stains clear on her face, eyes rimmed red.

All options were running out. They had two days, two days before the hunt began. Two days before they lose everything.

A distress signal, broadcasted on loop, over and over again to any frequency they can get their hands on with the limited equipment they had.

"This Friday, at 3:15am, my town is going to make an irreparable mistake."

A soft clang rang from somewhere of screen, but that didn't shift her attention.

"My town, my home, has fallen to the manipulation of a deranged woman."

A choked sound came from off screen, sounds uncomfortable close to a sob.

"Amity Park has always been disconnected from the rest of the world. A small town, in it's own small world. Things have been happening here for the past two years, and now..."

She paused, glancing off screen before wiping her face.

"Now we aren't enough to save it. We did took too long to notice the cancer that was spreading. The hysteria combined with fear of the unknown that drove out town to follow her.

My name is Jasimine Fenton, I'm here with my father Jack Fenton. My mother, Madeline Fenton, is the reason the world might be facing war."

The video footage grew worse, static starting to over take the image and the audio.

"Dad, we're losing it!"

"Sorry Jazzy-bear" The new voice clearly came from a man, even if he stayed clear of the camera view. A moment passed before it was fixed.

"We don't know how long we gave before they find us, but... My baby brother Danny Fenton is going to be brutally hunt down Friday morning.

There's no time to put all the information needed in this signal, but I'm begging anyone who sees this. Please send help.

Anyone who has spoken against the plan has been imprisoned, the only ones from the team that's fear is us."

Jazz let out a shaking breath, staring off screen for just a moment before coming back, fresh tears rimming her eyes.

"All Danny every wanted to do was protect his home, and all he got in return was pain and hatred. Please, you might not know us, but you need to know. Danny holds a high position with in the ghostly realm.

Whatever you want to call it, the ghost zone, the infinite realms, or purgatory. Doesn't matter, all you need to know of the living kill Danny, the ghosts will rage war."

A heavy thud filled the room, the camera seemed to shake at the sound. Fear filled Jazz's face.

"Dad, they-"

"It's okay Jazz, finish the recording, they can't get in yet."

Jazz nodded, moving toward the camera. She seemed to cup it in her hands and tried to speak over the loud thud that continued to penetrate the area.

"We're running out of time, I hope this reaches someone somewhere. More than anything, I hope this reaches the Justice League.

Reaches them before Friday. Before the world is in true danger. Danny is the only link to peace between worlds. Don't let a woman driven by hatred be the end."

This time instead of a thud, it sounded more like a crack. The camera shifted and a view of a large man built like a tank was caught. A strange gun in one hand, and what looked like a strange grenande in the other.

"Jazzy-Bear, there's an escape tunnel in the back. Go, I'll hold them off as long as I can."

"No! I'm not leaving you!"

"Jazz-"

"No. I don't care, I'm no use to anyone by myself. We need to stick together."

"Jasimine-"

"I'm setting the recording to loop."

"Honey-"

Loud crash broke through following another crack. Heavy footsteps followed. Voices screamed through the air.

Jazz's face filled the screen completely as gunfire could be heard.

"Please send anyone, I can't lose my baby brother too."

And just like that, the screen went black. Barely a couple seconds passed before the screen lit up again.

The video starting from the beginning. Hoping for anyone to view it.

A cry for help cycling through an endless loop until it found it's self broadcast for the League.

1K notes · View notes

httpiastri · 4 months

Text

ollie bearman x crawford!reader

the instagram story was subtle enough. or, at least, so you thought.

ollie didn't seem to agree.

it was a video of you in the newly bought sundress you'd decided to wear to the sprint race today; twirling around in your hotel room, the geotag of "silverstone circuit" in the top right corner. but none of this is what ollie cares about: it's the choice of background music.

they say home is where the heart is, but god i love the english. you know i love a london boy…

the poor boy nearly had a heart attack when he saw it in the paddock. he thought it was super obvious; "i love a london boy" could only mean one thing.

your relationship with ollie is still secret from everyone, including your brother, to ensure that people won't get involved in your private business. besides, once the news is out even in just the racing world, you know it will spread and get big in no time; that's the way it usually is with formula drivers. especially fan-favorites like ollie. so, for the moment, you've decided to just enjoy wherever this takes you, without caring what anyone else thinks. but now, he's scared you've blown it.

your instagram account is on private, so you aren't afraid of fans snooping around and seeing it. but still, it worries ollie; your brother follows you, and that is much worse than fans, he reckons. when you first started going out, you thought it would be natural to tell your twin brother about it, considering the fact that ollie is one of his best friends – but ollie disagreed. the whole dating your best friend's sibling-thing never went well in the movies, and that's all he had to go after.

the song echoes in his brain all morning. during the driver meeting, his pre-race briefings, even as he watches the f3 sprint. he likes my american smile like a child when our eyes meet; darling, i fancy you. all morning leading up to the race, he's distracted and can't think of anything else, though his mechanics and engineers think he's just focused on the race ahead of him. ollie needs some kind of closure, and it isn't until he spots you walking down the f2 paddock that he finds an opportunity.

it's not long before ollie is supposed to get into his car that he sees you on your way to the dams garage. the sundress you showed off in your instagram story looks even better in the real world, and he can't help but swoon at the sight of your smile lighting up the paddock just as much as the sun. he snaps out of it just in time, because when you walk past the prema garage, he swoops out and grabs your wrist, pulling you in.

"ollie-" is all you can get out because now he's pulling you along with him so fast that you can barely even keep up. you manage to nod and greet a few of the prema workers on your way – most people recognize you as jak's sister since you spent a lot of time in the paddock with them last year – but soon, ollie has managed to find you a secluded corner far in the back with no one around.

you rest one hand on his shoulder as you try to catch your breath, looking up at your boyfriend with pinched eyebrows. "you..." he starts, letting out a sigh. "your story on instagram..."

"what about it?"

you weren't usually one to tease him, so he assumes you are actually sincere in your current confusion. the thought of your story may have been etched into his mind for the last few hours and the reason behind his displeasure might be totally clear in his head – but you never were one to read thoughts, which he sometimes forgets. "jak is going to know."

you don't look any less confused by now, which makes ollie feel even more impatient. "why would he know?"

"the song choice. london boy, really? it's so obvious." he pauses for a moment. "you can't do that."

his words are meant as a warning, but the smile on his lips tells a whole other story. no matter how scared he is that your brother will find out that you've been hiding this relationship from him, he can't stop himself from finding it just a bit amusing. and with the way that you're still watching him with such an innocent look and your other hand is also reaching for his shoulder, there's no way he can hold back a grin.

"sweetheart, it's one of the most popular songs out right now. in the entire world. no one will even bat an eye. plus," you tilt your head. "i'm an american girl in england, so london boy is an obvious choice."

"you could've chosen so many other songs about england, but you had to choose that one?"

the chuckle leaves your throat instantly. "you're not even a london boy, ollie."

he knows he's lost. he knows he's just worrying about nothing, he knows there's a much bigger risk that someone finds out about you being here with him in the prema garage than jak connecting the dots from just your story. but he can't give up just yet.

"i'll forgive you. but on one condition," he says, and you immediately nod at him. "give me a kiss. for good luck."

there's not even a second of hesitation before you get onto your tippy toes, reaching up to him. your lips are pressed onto his once, then twice, then thrice. you're both smiling into it, and his hands cup your cheeks, holding you close when you part for the last time.

"you know," he starts, thumbs drawing circles into your cheeks. "i fancy you."

the giggle that leaves your lips is like music to his ears. did he actually study the song? "oh, oliver," you say, trying to pull off your most british accent. "darling, i fancy you, too."

497 notes · View notes

thatdeadaquarius · 1 year

Note

it's almost 4am i can't get this out of my head holy shit.

reader whose original body is a literal eldritch forest deity and speaks in hymns (bonus points: after we isekai into said og body, we mix slang into it).

the acolytes have to break their fucking necks just to talk to you eye-to-eye, and the only thing they can make out of what you say is something equal to tablets bajillion years old already.

or that reader is constantly cussing and the acolytes just nod along not understanding whatever this 15ft tall eldritch horror is saying.

-🫀

ELDRITCH HORROR READER. I LIVEEE, NONE OF U UNDERSTAND, THIS IS SO DEEPLY AHHHHHH

I LITERALLY JUST SHIMMY STIM IN MY SEAT WHEN I THINK ABT THIS TOO LONG LMAO

i LIVE AND BREATHE for when we look like eldritch horrors but are just people lmao

IF I HAVEN’T RUN U OFF, 🫀 MY HEART, MI CORAZON <3

U HAVE A BEAUTIFUL MIND DESPITE BEING A BLOODY HEART

☆

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them only), Eldritch!Reader

Planet: Misc. Genshin AUs

Orbit: some headcanons, tiny scenario

Stars: a little bit of Zhongli, Xiao, Ganyu, Ningguang, Keqing, and the adepti

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Light Description of Body Modifications/Body Horror-esque, Light Description of Eldritch Horror Creature, Reader has a Non-Human Body,

& Trigger Warnings: Eldritch Monster, Light Body Horror, Non-Con Body Modifications (Wake up as a monster, described as positive).

FUCKING LOVE THIS GIF, AND THIS SONG AND ARTISTTT

hey so here’s a song to listen I was listening to while writing this, chose the instrumental bc it was less distracting!

👉👈 hope u like :)

you just come into Teyvat from either Enkanomiya, the straight up Abyss/Dark Realm or even Celestia/Light Realmunder that glowing mushrooms tree in the Chasm, or like, ooo even by the upside down Barbatos statue 👀

and its great bc ur like- “omg Teyvat ooooo, ahhhh”

meanwhile the animals/magical creatures/beings nearby like shakin in their boots

literally no matter what land type their in, water, air, etc. they’re all bowing (despite the hooves, the paws, the flippers, the wings,) hell, even the bugs?? Might be bowing???

and you were slow to wake up wherever you were, so it took you a second to really process-

plus it just felt so weirdly, natural?

Not like walking on 2 legs no, but more like, how swimming feels but without the act of doing it?

you realize you’re… hovering.

wow, guess you can do that now,

your pretty much crowned with every flower from the regions of Teyvat, and a few from other Realms like Celestia, Abyss, and Enkanomiya, etc.

you have extra limbs, you feel them shift like you’ve had them all your life, even tho you do smack urself a few times with them lmao (new hand-eye coordination is hard)

and you realize u can see elemental traces/elements of beings, even plants, all the time now?

It isn’t until you look into a pretty still pond that you see what you look like,

you’ve got more eyes

I mean u thought you’d just be one of the twins, or ur own person if somebody asked u what youd look like isekaied to Genshin Impact, not what looks like the elemental god of the fucking continent

but you don’t look bad! actually you think you look kinda neat!

You’ve got like this coat of many draping vines and plantlife, glowing coral poking out near the top that’s around your throat, and- is that- tiny waterfalls?? Running down your nature cape too??

the many gemstones and ore of this planet form your legs, strong and taller than even regular human guys back on Earth, you’re like what? Eight? Nine feet? (about 245cm, or 2.5 meters)

You’re head… it’s like a dragons skull?? You’ve got these black horns flowing out from the top too that fade to a golden glow, like a crown nearly, theyre draped with what looks like strings of primogems??

oh and your extra eyes are symmetrical that’s good!

tho it does seem like you got this handy hood included into your cape of much nature to flop onto your head

where your heart should be, there’s two bursting stars circling one another, one of pink, purples and light blues, the other of gold and blue, oh hey, the wishing stars for standard and character banners!

and if you like mushrooms, at least one of every kind in Teyvat’s countries/regions is looking cool on ur cape, and if you like bugs, the cool ones like the rhino beetles from inazuma are being cute little buddies on ur stuff too

and like in the gif, every step you take overfills with life, except it stays and doesn’t wither like above, and it also does that glow bit that some places in Sumeru do/Enkanomiya

You CANNOT be missed no matter where you walk, and your sort of constantly feeling like you’ve drank 3 energy + 5 espresso shots of coffee

but in a way that makes you sort of full? like full on life… and like you could be even bigger, and taller, if you willed it

♤

k but the adepti felt ur presence coming in hot from literal mountains away

Cloud Retainter, and Guizhong, had set up inventions long ago to sense the Original of Teyvat, just in case, because some signs of prophecy of your return had begun to show in their lands

Zhongli especially knew you were close to come after another major sign was met, the corruption after the Archon War, and the ravaging of the land by the fall of Khaenri’ah’s “metal beasts”

So when you finally walk your way into Jueyun Karst, the adepti are already waiting, Xiao, Ganyu, and Zhongli as well,

Luckily Ganyu, with Zhongli’s help or advice, convinced the adepti to share this meeting with the Qixing as well like Keqing, and the Tianquan herself

It was a momentous occasion after all, but you were just now feeling the need to maybe nap a little after nearly, what was it, 2 weeks worth of constant walking?

wow this new body had literal stamina for days

you arrived late into the night, around midnight, under a full moon, and they’re relieved all the signs are being met

◇

honestly the only reason you headed to Liyue was bc you knew it was the closest (the map of Teyvat was both familiar in the way it had been in game, but also on a deeper level, like walking around your house in the dark)

and u rlly wanted to be able to talk to somebody, bc u had no idea?? wtf you were??

honestly you thought the adepti/Zhongli would be a good bet bc they’d maybe tell u what creature u ended up as,

u did suspect maybe you’d ended up as some kind of god, but like?? none of the other gods looked like this???

and u see them all! up ahead in Jueyun Karst! Oh no! You really, really, really, hope they don’t think you’re a walking talking evil tree dragon thing-

…maybe you should wave?

◇

As you get closer,

Xiao’s back straigtens, Ganyu nervously looks at the ground, Keqing is trying to figure out where to look bc ur so tall, Ningguang has her hands respectfully folded in front of her and her facial muscles looks tensed for a fight almost, the adepti are shuffling nervously bc they’re not used to being the magically weaker/younger creatures in the area, and Zhongli-

Zhongli is no longer the mortal Zhongli.

Amber horns curl up from his head, long brunette hair with glowing gold tips flowing and loose, claws on display, as he stands in his finest and oldest lóng páo, black with gold detailing embroidered throughout, it details his deeds as Rex Lapis and Morax, the spears of his vanquishing gods across the front and back, he looks like a living painting

and although he looks as serene as if he’s about to sit down for some tea, the adepti can see the tremoring hands, the same he used to hide in his sleeves when he was genuinely intimidated by another god, usually the older ones he’d had to fight

but for the first time since the archon war, this was one he was going to welcome with open arms, and utmost respect, despite his position as archon forfeited

there’s a strange music in the air of the night as the animals and the bugs and creatures of the realm subtly make the beat, the god’s feet (of ore Rex Lapis hasn’t seen since he was a child, it was so rare to find) shake the earth of his land with each step, a deep quiet booming like a drum of war as they get closer

The God of All stops some distance away from them

…and the Huangdi of All, just waves. 💀👋

at Zhongli, the adepti, Xiao, the Tianquan, and the Qixing.

A long black limb with a rainbow shine like a crow’s wing raises, gives an ironically tiny wave of their clawed black hand,

and tilts their head, though a sort of greenery hood covering it

and speaks,

“ ˙˙˙ʎzɐɹɔ sı ʇıɥs sıɥʇ ¿ʍou ʇɥƃıɹ ɯɐ ı ʞɔnɟ ǝɥʇ ʇɐɥʍ ʍouʞ sʎnƃ noʎ op uɯɐp”

your voice is like singing, deep, high, like a choir trying to sing all at once to them

Xiao cringes a little in surprise, he was braced for your older speech just in case but it still caught him off guard, and unfortunatly, he gives a quick glance to Lord Rex Lapis,

he can’t understand any of that, and Ganyu and Keqing are in the same boat, but while the Yaksha’s only done passive studying in hopes of understanding you, the Lord of Geo had gone much further back in trying to make sure he could understand your words, should the day come, his library, even now living as a mortal, is extensive

the other adepti and Ningguang catch a few words, but it’s too,, simple really, to understand

the words have no context, they need more, but such is the ancients, they’re meanings simple and all-encompassing

Lord Rex Lapis bows deeply,

“We welcome you with open arms, our Huangdi. Please, feast your eyes upon the land with which I have wrought with mine own talons, for all is ever truly yours.”

the adepti announces for them all, voice giving away no nerves, Xiao can still understand him luckily, though he has greatly simplified himself for the sake of being understood by the ancient god of creation,

“ ˙˙˙ʞɔıʇs ɐ uo ʇsıɹɥɔ snsǝɾ ¡¿ılƃuoɥz noʎ uǝʌǝ ¿noʎ oʇ poƃ ɟo puıʞ ǝɯos ɯ,ı 'ǝʇnuıɯ uɯɐp ɐ ʇıɐʍ”

your voice is an energy through the air, and makes the trees nearby lean in to hear you better, the creeks and ponds of the area leave their beds a little to get closer, geo crystalflys emerge and begin to swirl around your natural body, perching on your horns, making it look even more like a crown

Xiao gulps.

Rex Lapis’ and Ningguang’s spines straighten further if they even can from the impeccable posture they were before, They share a quick glance…

…neither of them caught that one, only a few words, and Ganyu feels her shoulders drop as she gives up trying to hear you and understand as well,

you make a strange sound, a high humming, a deep confusion with some worry, the crystalflys buzz around you a little faster,

then point to yourself

...and make a peace sign. ✌️

it was going to be a long night.

☆

idk if this made any sense, and I sincerely hope that you at least liked what I wrote a little bit, sorry about the over description 😭 I just felt like it was very important but then I realized I hadn’t even talked about the language yet… anyway here u go LMAO

I hope it was alright, and I seriously love your idea, even if I didn’t take it in the direction you wanted/as cool as you meant!! :/

Thanks for the badass idea, i fucking love eldritch shit <3

☆

Safe Travels,

💀 ♒

♡my beloved♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk

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dynsdiary · 4 months

Text

━━ ⋆ girl in new york

click the title for the song

pairing : ellie williams x reader

warnings : cheating 🧍🏻‍♀️, cursing, ass angst writing, ellie being an asshole, no comfort

cr : @s-hyia & @idontgetanysleep for dividers

a/n : had this on my drafts for few weeks now and because of this , i just had to ! i hope i did your justice lol :p

DONT BUY TLOU DAILY CLICK

WAYS YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE

“I’m gonna miss you” Ellie said as she’s holding her bags.

She then leaves you with a kiss on your cheek.

“Stay safe, Ellie” as you waved her off at your front door.

As Ellie starts her car and drives off the neighbourhood, you still standing at the door; watching the car until it’s not in your vision anymore.

You sighed as you closed the door, feeling weird that now you and Ellie had to be in a long-distance relationship, again.

But you had hopes that it would go well!

Ellie loves you and you love her.

That is all that matters, right?

Oh boy, you are so wrong about that.

A few months later, you noticed that Ellie had been acting differently lately, more distant and unavailable. At first, you thought it was nothing, that maybe Ellie was just busy with work or going through some personal issues.

But as the days went on her texts were different, her tone on calls shifted, and her replies getting later day by day.

Ellie would keep the conversation short and dry.

At this point, you might as well talk to your wall. There is no difference between the wall and Ellie, both are nonverbal. However, Ellie is good-looking, while the wall is just a wall.

You couldn't ignore the feeling that something was off. You didn't want to believe it, but the thought kept nagging at the back of your mind.

You wanted to make a surprise for Ellie by going to New York. What you didn’t know is that Ellie already has a surprise for you, too.

The rain was coming down in buckets, creating a symphony of sound as it hit the ground. The raindrops glittered in the light of the street lamps, casting a melancholic glow across the city.

You stood at the window of your bedroom, staring out into the night with a cup of tea in your hands holding for its warmth.

With a deep breath, you turned away from the window and placed your cup on the table before packing your bags. You carefully folded your clothes and gathered your toiletries, making sure you had everything you needed for your trip.

As you packed, your mind wandered to your upcoming surprise visit to Ellie in New York. You couldn't wait to see the look on your girlfriend's face when you showed up unannounced.

When you finished packing, you turned off the lights and made your way to bed. You close your eyes and let the sound of the rain soothe you to sleep, feeling content and secure in the knowledge that in the next few hours you're going to NYC and meeting up with your lovely girlfriend.

But that all changes from one drunk butt-dialled you got from Ellie.

Who the hell is she taking Ellie from you?

Well fuck this.

This is not how you expected her to react at all.

Ellie couldn't give you a proper kiss and hug.

So the call just confirms it all, she's cheating on you.

All the late reply, the changing tone while she's talking with you, and all the lame excuses she had given you for the late reply now make sense to you.

Ellie has never liked this, as busy as she is, she still takes time to reply to you.

Now she changed all because she likes another girl. Who she has known for 3 months and pushed away her 1-year and half relationship?

You stayed at your Airbnb for two days, collecting yourself back before you went and shattered again when you were going to confront Ellie the next day.

And that leads where the two of you now, screaming at each other.

You and Ellie had a tough conversation about her cheating, and it quickly escalated into a heated argument. You felt betrayed and heartbroken, and you let your emotions get the best of you and said things you didn't mean, and Ellie was equally as upset and defensive.

"Who the hell is she, huh?" you shouted at her.

You regretted coming here, why are you even here? To sit and watch Ellie look down?

"What does she have that I don't!" you broke down as you said that.

Ellie's heart broke for you but she is the one who made you like this, you are heartbroken caused of her and yet she feels bad about it?

Truth be told, Ellie doesn't know why she cheated on you. You're everything that she wanted, you're kind, beautiful inside and outside, loving, caring, smart and very funny too but why did she cheat on you?

Was it because of the distance between you two? A year ago you two were long-distance too so what changes now?

Was it because of the boredom? But you were there, constantly waiting for her to call and text you to tell you about her day.

Was it because how the girl in New York made her feel something she never felt before when she’s with you?

Was it because she felt the freedom and that makes her feel like she missing out with you?

Or was it because she just fucking stupid?

Ellie took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. "I don't know," she said softly.

This angers you, how could she not know?

Your breathing increases and your heartbeat beats so fast because of how much anger fills your body

"The least you could do is give me a fucking explanation! God! Ellie, I trusted you, you know!" you yelled out of frustration.

"You didn't even try to protect us? To fix this?!" you added.

Your hands brushed your hair as you looked away from her, you couldn't even look at her now. You can't stand to be in the same room as her. You can't stand the fact that all you can smell is her.

"I don't know if I could fix this, baby" says Ellie.

"Dont. Dont you dare call me baby after you cheated on me for three months"

"It's actually two months but whatever, I guess" Ellie said as her hand nervously played with her rings.

"So you're not gonna do something? Or at least say something to me?" your tears fell on your warm cheek.

You look so pretty like this, Ellie thought.

Your warm tears streaming down your cheek, how she wished she could kissed them away.

Your red nose and cheek because of the screaming and shouting just a moment ago.

“I wish she was worth it for you to cheat on me" and that was the last word you said to her before you slammed the door and left her cheap apartment.

You feel so stupid for hoping that Ellie could go out of her apartment and chase you, to hold you, to kiss you, to assure you, to apologise, to stop you from leaving her but that didn't happen.

Cause she let you leave after making you feel special.

REMINDER !!

that neil is a zionist and therefore dont buy his games, doesnt matter remastered or not !!!

before you leave, have you DONATE TO PALESTINE today? ITS FREE TOO !!

#── ellslvr writes ₊˚⊹ ��🏻#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams the last of us #lesbian #wlw #sapphic

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much.

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction.

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time.

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.”

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway.

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness.

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit.

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care.

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time.

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way.

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to.

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with.

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast.

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder.

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him.

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway.

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears.

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened.

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen.

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin.

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder.

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen.

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs.

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes.

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t.

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower.

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering.

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him.

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks.

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it.

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous.

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet.

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected.

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time.

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally.

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?”

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement.

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him.

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.”

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts.

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him.

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse.

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces.

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating.

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet.

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that.

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing.

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms.

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it.

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again.

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it.

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?”

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.”

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now.

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger.

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now.

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth.

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed.

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do.

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree.

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….”

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top.

“That’s it, nice and slow.”

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread.

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again.

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him.

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens.

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t.

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows.

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart.

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again.

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange.

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think.

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass.

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks.

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident.

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession.

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips.

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you.

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there.

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected.

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel.

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger.

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little – just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose.

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture.

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously.

“Yes, please, please,”

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often.

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.”

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made.

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life.

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper.

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”

“No.”

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much.

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t.

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t.

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had.

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more.

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this.

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you.

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it.

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap.

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though.

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic.

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response.

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted.

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek.

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him.

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head. Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom.

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side.

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him.

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?”

“You do.”

“So…. I’ll teach you.”

“....Okay.”

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do.

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart.

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this.

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us writing #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fic #joel miller angst #writing

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beegalactica · 5 months

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How I journaled every day in 2023, and you can too in 2024

I heard someone wants to become "that girl" in 2024...

Well, let me tell you, "that girl" is the type of babe who embodies consistency; consistency in her thoughts, feelings, words and actions. Now one of the ways I have personified this aura of consistency is through frequent inward reflection through journaling.

I know, we've heard it a million times now. And with the new year approaching, it's so easy to set the intention to journal every day and do it well. News flash, my love, you must do much more than just set the intention. Let me tell you how I did it so you can do the same ~

Equipment

Believe me, I've tried it all: countless notebooks, diaries, bullet journals, apps, all of it, but this past year, only one app *stuck* for me, and that is Notion. Whether you prefer to journal with a good old pen and paper, or even if you prefer to make a big Google document, go for it!

The reason I settled on Notion was its table view/ calendar view database features. I liked being able to add properties like what rating out of 5 I would give my day or being able to label whether I was on my period, or any major milestones. I found that these labels made it really fun to look back and laugh at all the crazy things that I came up with, and reminisce over those 5/5 star days when I really felt like that girl. (see example below)

What the hell do you write about?

"You can write about whatever you feel like!" is the usual response, and while that's great if you're anything like me, you'll need more detail than that. I opted for some classic prompts that I would simply respond to at the end of every day, but if you want to freestyle it, try some shadow work prompts, or even just sum up your day in one sentence, you are more than welcome to.

My prompts were:

1. Three wins of the day: 2. One thing I learned today: 3. One thing I will do tomorrow: 4. Am I worried about anything? 5. Favourite thing of my day: 6. Song of the day: 7. A story from today: 8. An affirmation for my mind to sleep on:

You don't have to write paragraphs upon paragraphs if you don't want to, and some days, it might be hard to even think of three wins, but an it girl can be present and celebrate the endless blessings in life, even when it seems like there are none.

How to be consistent?

Going back to the central theme of this post, consistency, it is important to acknowledge that no matter how pretty you make your journal, or how thought-provoking your prompts are, the most important thing is to actually do it.

Life is fluid, it's never going to be linear. Some days you'll feel amazing, gorgeous and ready to take on anything, but other days you'll just wish you were a flower instead that doesn't have to deal with anything. That's just life. Some days, the last thing on my mind was my silly little journal, but I knew it was something I needed to do for myself, so I took 2 minutes to write a few sentences down, even when I'd rather be doing other things.

How to maintain your consistency:

Set reminders - at the start of the year, I had 2 reminders every day to journal; after the first few months, I cut it down to just one at 9pm, and by the end of the year, I was just doing it because it had become a routine for me.

Reward yourself - at first, you'll just be able to say you journaled for 1 day, then it will be 2 days, then slowly up to 1 week, 1 month, and soon you'll be like me, bragging about how you did it for a whole year! It's an accomplishment! Never lose sight of that.

Be kind to yourself - ultimately, this should be something you do for you and you only, so if you miss a day, it's not the end of the world. Every now and then, I didn't journal for a day - maybe I was too busy, or just exhausted by the time my day was over - so I accepted it and caught up first thing the next day. You make your own rules.

JUST START!!!!!!! - do it! Even if you mess up, start again and again and again! Nothing changes if nothing changes.

What's the point?

You've read this far, and you may be wondering, what's the point of journaling?

Well, I can confidently say that journaling changed my outlook on life immensely. 2023 was the best year I've had so far. Yes, there were setbacks: I lost friends that I thought would have forever, I struggled with my mental and physical health, and I reached points where I thought I was too low to get back up. But recording little bits about my day every day showed me, with actual tangible proof, that I will always get back up. I also had some amazing moments this year: I started a whole new school and era of my life, I made amazing friends, I fell in love with myself again and I found my voice.

Journaling has helped me to see the little positives in everyday life. Even when a situation seemed absolutely awful and I thought that I could never recover from it, I developed the mindset that not only could I recover, but I would absolutely recover. This new mindset helped me to laugh at myself in moments when a previous version of me would've shrivelled up into a ball and disappeared from the outside world.

Looking back over my life these past 365 days has helped me cultivate a new outlook on life, where I don't see setbacks as obstacles or barriers to my success, but as little stories to journal and laugh about when I inevitably overcome them. If that isn't the most it girl attitude to have, then I don't know what else is!

Journaling changed my life, and I hope that it can change yours too! Happy 2024! 🎀

#lifeblr #girlblogging #journal #journalling #girlblogger #becoming that girl #that girl #it girl #self improvement #new year new me #new year new you #goal setting

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shdysders · 6 months

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club heaven

pairing: jenna ortega x female reader

summary: in which jenna found herself thinking about you and where you might be.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: mentions of death & alcohol

author’s note: wrote this fully based on the song club heaven by nessa barrett, mainly because it’s currently one of my favorite songs. and i suppose it’s confusing if you haven’t read the lyrics to it, so take that into consideration while reading!

i didn’t rly like how this turned out, so please tell me if it’s too confusing and i’ll delete it. hope y’all like it!

As Jenna sat at the lavish Met Gala table, surrounded by the dazzling lights and extravagant fashion, all she could find herself thinking about was you.

It was currently the place and time of the Met Gala after party, and as sad as it sounded: Jenna was alone. Even though she was encircled by people in the same working industry as herself, she should be enjoying herself. This was people she was supposed to actually relate to.

But the thought that was stopping her from doing so, was you. You just wouldn't leave her mind. She just couldn't stop thinking about where you were, what you were doing or who you where with.

You had always liked afterparties, no matter what the occasion, so she should've known that thoughts of you would appear when she would attend them. You claimed it was the icing on the cake when it came to celebration. You wanted one after your birthday, Christmas and even on New Year's Eve.

It was something Jenna loved about you, you always felt the need to celebrate, whether it was for a new project she had finished or such small things as finishing an audition tape.

Her thinking was harshly interrupted by a strong white light flashing onto her, followed by both male and female voices yelling her name from afar.

You hated the paparazzi, despised them. It was a conversation topic you and Jenna talked about almost all the time, you couldn't stand the people that made it their mission in life to make well known peoples life a living hell: taking pictures who all looked the same, making them partly blind in the process.

A smile appears on Jennas face at the thought of your hatred towards them. The fact that you were now somewhere they couldn't go made relief wash over her, but it also made her feel worry. You wouldn't be there to protect her if they ever tried to do something, like you always said you would.

She just prayed to the gods above that you knew how truly sorry she was for not being with you, for not being able to tell you how much she loved you, how much she adored you; like you had told her everyday. She wouldn't be with you for the future years at least, maybe even decades unless she would die in any sort of accident.

Your number still lingered in her contact list, your name followed by an amount of hearts she never bothered to count.

She texted your number almost every day, every chance she got, knowing she would never get a reply from you.

She knew that your number would eventually get shut down for it's lack of using and that a new user would get it, but when it did she certainly didn't know how hard she would take it. Everything that ever belonged to you was starting to slip out of her grip, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Although the new user didn't stop her from texting the number, she didn't care if that meant for her number to get leaked. Because if it made her feel closer to you, she didn't mind. It actually got to the point where the number had called her multiple times, your number called her. But this time the picture of you didn't cover the screen, nor did the contact name she made especially for you.

Jenna tried to tell herself it was you calling her, that you were calling her to ask if she could join you up in paradise.

But she never actually answered the calls because she knew what it would be like if she did: an old lady full of frustration, telling her to stop texting her phone because she didn't know how to block the number. But in the fantasy of it being you, she tried to tell herself that she couldn't hear the signal through the clouds, just so you didn't think she was ignoring you.

The champagne in the glass ran slowly down her dry throat, her face crunching together at the scary feeling of the liquid barely making it through. The paparazzi was now long gone; probably because she didn't give them any satisfaction in posing for their worthless pictures.

Jenna stared with guilt onto the empty glass, that was just minutes ago all full of luxury exotic fruit champagne, Enrique had told her to take it easy multiple times, not wanting her to be completely out of it and not being able to make it home, but of course she didn't listen.

She enjoyed the feeling of the buzz in her head that shut out the bad thoughts in her head; the thoughts of you. She had been trying to escape them with alcohol more than she could remember, drinking all alone at night, either alone in her hotel room or in her apartment, that was once yours too. And when drinking alone got too boring, she tried going to a club.

But unfortunately, she wasn't allowed. Surprisingly enough it wasn't for her short figure or petite and short looking body. The bouncer claimed she was too well known, that she would cause a fuss by being there, crowding people around her and making people turn the attention away from the actual place.

He had told her that she would have to sign herself in as a performer or an entertainer so they had time to schedule it in. But that didn't stop her, she waited right outside every night, even trying to bribe the bouncer with an autograph or a photo, but she left there without avail; the only answer she got was "not tonight".

She hoped that you were up there somewhere, spending your time at your own club, dancing and drinking. You loved dancing, you were always the first person onto the dance floor, practically forcing or dragging Jenna with you.

She hoped that you were up there smoking some blue dream and cigarettes with your legends and idols; even though you never liked when Jenna smoked, she knew you liked to do so yourself when she wasn't around.

She could actually bet all her life savings that you were up there raising all kinds of toasts for her, telling all of the other people up there who she was, what she did, and who she was to you, so everyone else would know who she was until she would get in. To club heaven. The club up there that she prayed so deeply you were at.

And even though she was constantly surrounded by warm and kind hearted people that only wanted the best for her and her career, it never filled the void, the void of you. It was like the city was filled with beautiful angels, but it missed the best one.

She wished for nothing else but being able to cut the line, whether it was up to you or the club she was rooting so hard to get into.

It was either seeing you, or forgetting the loud and bad thoughts about you; the thoughts that you were actually gone, that you weren't with her. Of course she didn't want to forget about you forever, it was just a temporary solution for when the thoughts got too loud.

But a thought that had hit her, was the long wait. The line up towards the place where you were at weren't exactly short, and she was probably way too far back in that line. What if she would never get in? What if she can't get in at all? If that happened, how would she ever see you again?

What if she can't get in? How will she see you again?

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #club heaven #jenna ortega x fem!reader #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter

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pauking5 · 5 months

Text

New Year, New Me

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x fem reader

Genre: mutual pining, flirting, some jealousy (if you squint), a shitload of banter, teasing

Word count: 5.7k+

A/N: I told you more Zoro is coming 😉 All I'm gonna say is that it's one of my favorites. Might have a part 2 planned but we'll see. Enjoy!

Part 2

The deep bass rocked your body with every move, heart beating in sync with the music blaring from the speakers in the club. Alcohol coursed through your veins, relaxing all your nerves and worries. Only heavens above knew how much you needed this.

To let go of everything for one night.

Especially if that one night was New Year's Eve and you dreaded it a shit ton.

This year was pure torment for you on the love frontline. There were some dates, a lot of situationships and even more failed talking stages.

It felt like your heart was just a hotel for people to stop at for one night. You left the doors wide open for anyone to come in and occupy a room. They would get whatever they wanted from you, whether that was sex or just talking the night away, and leave their trash at your doorstep for you to clean it up as if it was yours.

And it left you emptier and emptier the more you let the latch open.

Not one of them wanted to truly get to know you or let you talk for that matter and it was driving you nuts. You tried hard to convince yourself it wasn't a you problem. It was just hard seeing everyone else so happy and in long-running relationships while you were there struggling to have just one normal conversation with someone.

Before you let it get worse and have another storm wracking your heart you found yourself hitting the club a lot more often. As bad as it was, at least it covered the self-deprecating your sober mind was up to the minute your mouth touched the rim of the glass of mixed alcohol in your hand.

When the city clubs stopped doing it for you, you took to the beach club nearby. The tropical house genre wasn't really your style or the club itself, but it grew on you the more you visited it. Not for the good cocktails or the fun atmosphere the club induced in you. But for the green-haired man sat at the far back of the club that captured your eye.

From the looks of it he was a regular. Every night you were there, he was there too. You didn't think anything of it until it's been a few weeks and he was still present.

The only thing that changed the more you went there was that he took notice of you too.

The most he did was glance your way as you were dancing thinking you wouldn't notice but you caught him every. single. time.

There was something about the way he looked your way that sparked something in you. Every time his eyes laid on you it felt like your body would set on fire and that feeling only grew stronger over time.

He would be the only thing occupying your mind both in your waking hours and the intoxicated ones. Besides the obvious attraction you felt for him there was also this weird sense of connection that drew you to him. You hoped he would make a move to you but all he gave you was that unwavering gaze turning your insides to mush and your head into a mess.

You took it in your hands and decided to make the first move a few weeks ago. It was one of those nights you were feeling the loneliness a little too hard and thought some sort of action would have done you good. You scanned the club for him and found him in his usual spot, nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey.

The moment you set your eyes on him his dark eyes lifted from the glass to you, as if sensing that you were looking at him. His lips were placed on the rim of the glass, but his gaze was solely trained on you.

You moved your body to the rhythm of the music without breaking eye contact. He watched your every move from behind that glass like a hunter observing its prey, dark eyes roaming over you with an expression you couldn't quite read.

The beat of the song playing intensified and so did your moves, rolling your hips in sync with it. That caught his attention since you caught him licking his lips. He was definitely interested but he didn't make a move to you that night.

So, you tried luring him in more the next time you went. You danced a but more provocative this time, a result of the combination of liquid burning down your throat. You threw your hands in your hair messing with it as you exposed your neck, all whilst narrowing your eyes on him.

The most that did was halt the glass that was halfway to his lips, hand gripping it tightly as if to preserve his self-control. You continued the teasing, this time letting your hands wander down your body following the way his eyes trailed down. That had him throwing the contents in his glass down his throat rapidly, tongue poking against his cheek. You smirked in victory at the reaction. But even that wasn't enough to bring him closer to you.

Last week you decided that it was going to be your final try. You would drop it if he still didn't understand your intentions this time around. After all, you had your pride to preserve too.

He could be God's favourite for all you cared but if he couldn't grasp the concept of a woman wanting him this badly it was his fault.

Your last resort was provoking him. You wore a shorter dress revealing just enough to get any man howling to rip it apart. But it turned out, he wasn't just any guy.

After scanning the crowd you grabbed a random guy and danced with him for the majority of the night. You let him move you along to the music, holding your body flush against his. He placed his hands on your waist and dipped his head in your neck leaving rough kisses down your neck. You tilted your head back and looked at the green-haired man only to see his jaw twitching, eyes narrowed to slits in your direction.

Smirking at his reaction you turned around to the guy, glueing yourself to him impossibly close. You leaned up to whisper in his ear, eyes still set on the man at the back. His fist tightened dangerously next to the glass on the table.

Even with those obvious responses it still didn't get the point across to him.

You didn't understand him. You literally gave him every basic hint that you were interested and he reciprocated the gestures only to keep himself in that damn darkened corner.

He gave you the attention. The intensity of his gaze couldn't lie on that. One look from him kept you wanting more and more. You craved to know that connection wasn't just a lucid dream induced by alcohol and strobe lights. You lost yourself in the need for him to want you the way you wanted him.

And you did all that for a stranger.

The pursuing ended tonight. You weren't going to wait for anyone. Tonight would just be about you and you only.

But your excitement to drown in liquor and dance the night away into the new year was short-lived as the dance floor was suddenly flooded by couples of all people.

Blocking the laughter and sweet nothings whispered way too loud around you became harder. You ordered more and more alcohol to neutralise your senses and keep your emotions at bay. But no matter how much you drank and danced, you couldn't prevent that lonely feeling from seeping into your bones once again.

The closer it got to midnight, the worse you felt. A couple to your right was making out quite grossly, hands grabbing at each other's faces like it was a hotdog eating competition. Another couple to your left were humping each other like they were the only ones on the dance floor. You were pretty sure someone already had their junk out and it was just a matter of time before it sat in your line of sight and you got scarred for life.

Ah, fuck this. I'm leaving.

There was no point in staying here longer only to make yourself hurt more than you already did. The universe wanted you to suffer till the remaining last seconds of the year and you weren't going to give it the satisfaction.

You emptied what was left in your cocktail glass and placed it on a nearby table. Grabbing your bag and hoisting it up your shoulder, you turned for the exit. You wanted to get out of here before it hit midnight and all these couples would be getting it on.

But someone had other plans for you.

You barely took two steps towards the exit when a strong arm locked on your arm and pulled you backwards. You crashed into a hard chest, world swaying around you from the rapid movement. A woody vanilla scent surrounded you, sending you into a deeper daze than you were already in.

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned your head back only to come face to face with the green-haired man that occupied your mind for the past few weeks. The same man that annoyed you to the world's end as your attempts to show your interest for him seemed in vain.

Your mind was working on overdrive to make sense of what was happening. You didn't even look for him tonight and he was here, holding your hand. It wasn't helping that he was sat right behind you, body so close that you found it hard to breathe like a normal person. What was worse was that his eyes were focused on you, a relaxed smirk dancing on his lips.

The more you gazed into his eyes the more he took your oxygen away. And you couldn't help staring at him just a little more too entranced in his presence.

He looked even more breathtaking up close, strobe lights bouncing off his features enhancing them even more. His eyes appeared a lot sharper than they looked in that poorly illuminated corner.

He had this weird way of putting you in a trance every time your eyes locked with his. It veered you away from the fact that he lead you on for the longest time anyone's ever done before.

Upon remembering why you had every reason to be sour towards him, you turned your head away from him. You also did it to gain some stability in your mind, narrowing your eyes on the blurring crowd of dancing people in front of you.

"Didn't really have anything keeping me here," you spat out.

The music changed to a slower rhythm, still bouncy enough to keep people dancing.

His hand let go of your arm and you breathed a sigh of relief, until he wrapped it around your waist instead. You prayed he couldn't hear or feel the way your heart was racing, considering your back was pressed firmly against his chest.

"Wasn't going to let you go without a dance," he whispered in your ear.

There was no telling if the shivers dancing down your spine were either from him or from how buzzed you are. But you could feel the deep tone of his voice even with the loud bass thumping through you, louder than your own heartbeat.

"Oh, really?"

You turned around to fully face him. He was a head taller than you, shoulders extending beyond your field of vision. Your eyes lingered on his bulky arms, lined with muscles upon muscles, wondering how it would feel like to be squished between them.

The relaxed dress shirt he wore tonight looked divine on him. It was unbuttoned just enough to give you a sneak peek of his pecs, the rest of the material stretching over his toned body perfectly.

Okay, maybe he is God's favourite.

Beyond his looks, he was also emanating this oddly comforting energy. It was what drew you to him in the first place. You felt it the minute he laid his eyes on you the first night you came here and you felt it now as his eyes bore into you.

He took his time checking you out too. He was finally standing this close to you and you rendered him absolutely speechless. He thought you were beautiful from that corner, but you were even more gorgeous up close.

Your hair was put up in a messy bun, a few hair pieces falling around loose, framing your face. Your eyes twinkled with the changing colours of the lights, curiosity and interest dancing in your eyes.

The white silk dress you wore fell just below your knees. The straps around your shoulders did little to keep the dress on you as they circled behind where a deep back line exposed you fully to him. That cutout of the back line stopped way too low for his liking and your chest was covered just enough to not give him a heart attack.

What surprised him was that your outfits matched. If anyone asked the two of you if you were a couple they would hit the nail beside the head, so close yet so far.

Wrapping up the staring contest, his eyes settled on your lips. They were slightly parted, eyes seemingly just as lost in him as his were in you mere moments ago.

He chuckled at you which brought you out of your own spiral of thoughts and back to the blaring music and chatter around you.

"What are you really looking for out here?" he asked, stepping just a little closer to you.

Well, for starters, you weren't looking for commitment. But you also weren't looking for a one night stand. As contradictory as that sounded.

But it was a new year, which meant you could give into that new year, new me bullshit without thinking too much about the consequences for once. Who knew, maybe something would change.

The green-haired man sitting before you did not look like the type to commit or have just a one night stand either. So, he might have been just as conflicted as you were on that topic.

"Tell you what," you stepped closer to him and traced his shoulders with the pads of your fingers. He followed your movements until your hands stopped at the collar of his shirt, palms laid flat on his chest. "We can cross that bridge when we come to it."

Your eyes moved to his lips for the millionth time tonight. They looked so plump and inviting. You wondered how they tasted. Were they soft, with a tinge of his cologne that was already getting you addicted or were they rough, tasting just like the alcohol he normally drank?

He noticed the way you eyed his lips hungrily. His eyes moved from your hands on his shirt to your own lips. He couldn't deny yours looked just as inviting.

"20 seconds to the New Year!" said the dj through the mic, gathering everyone around for the reverse countdown to the new year.

He could consider himself fucked if he didn't make a move now.

"10 seconds!"

His eyes darted between your eyes and your lips unsure if he should indulge and plant a kiss on them.

"5!"

With uncertainty still dancing in his irises he leaned in, eyes moving to your eyes to search for any sign you didn't want this. But all he found was a fire ardently raging in your eyes. It was him that started it after all.

"4!"

The look on his face made you nervous. Any moment now his lips would finally press to yours.

"3!"

He glanced at your lips, getting closer but moving so infuriatingly slow that you decided enough was enough.

"2!"

Fuck it. I'll do it myself.

You fisted his shirt harshly and pulled him down to you, unable to wait anymore.

"1!"

You smashed your lips on his just as the countdown came to an end.

"Happy New Year everyone!"

Gold confetti rained down on you from all sides, getting stuck in your hair. The song playing on the speakers accelerated and so did your heartbeat the more your lips moved in the same rhythm with his.

Your hands locked at the nape of his neck pulling him closer to you. One of his hands wrapped around your waist, while the other grabbed the side of your face.

"May this new year be filled with fun for all of you," boomed the dj through his microphone before putting up the volume on the music.

New year's wishes could wait a little more. For now, you were too busy exploring the lips of the man that started a fire deep inside of you. He bit your lower lip, eager to take the kiss somewhere else.

You've been kissed before but never like this. It felt euphoric, like you reached the seventh heaven with the help of his lips alone. You were thankful he held onto you because your knees shook dangerously. And this time it wasn't from the damn alcohol.

You pulled apart trying to will some air back into your lungs. A lone hair strand fell in front of your face and you lifted your hand to brush it away but he was faster. He took it and gently put it behind your ear, letting his fingers ghost over the side of your neck. You couldn't help the smile pulling at your lips.

"Give me a second."

He let go of you and rushed off somewhere. You waited for a bit then scanned the crowd, unable to find him anywhere.

He couldn't have just left me here after that, right?

Did I rush him into it?

He probably left, didn't he?

Oh, lord.

I scared another good guy away.

This one was special too.

Great way to start the year, doofus.

Before you could wallow into self-pity and rethink your exit plan, he came back. Turns out he just went to get his jacket.

New Year's resolution: Stop overthinking shit.

He moved his jacket to one hand and let the other one find yours again, fingers lacing with yours delicately. The same fingers you studied for nights on end wishing they were wrapped around yours were now actually interwoven with yours.

"Do you have your things with you?"

You nodded, motioning to your bag as you fixed it on your shoulder, slightly confused at the question. He started walking to the bar, dragging you with him and hastily waved over a bartender.

"Give me the best bottle of champagne you have, a bucket of ice and two glasses. I'll take one of those platters too."

"The what-," you stuttered, shocked at his detailed request. He just smirked and you felt warmth rush to your cheeks.

How is a literal stranger making me blush and feel like I'm gonna explode at the same time?

Once he received the bucket with everything he asked for stacked neatly, he paid the bartender and led you outside to the beach. Fireworks were still going on from the looks of it. You could see the displays on either side of the beach you looked at. There were a few groups gathered around bonfires on the outside extension of the club, clinking glasses together and wishing for a better year.

You got a feeling he wasn't keen on hanging around others considering the fact that he mostly drank alone. Spotting a blanket and a few cushions on a couch you grabbed them, securing them under your free arm before you linked your hand back with his.

He started walking and true to your assumptions he led you further away from the crowd. He finally stopped at a spot that was illuminated enough to see each other. It was rather reclusive, but still in the vicinity of the club.

"Is this the part where you kill me or something?"

"I try to act like a gentleman and you take me for a psychopath," he deadpanned.

"Well, are you a psychopath?"

He just chuckled at your remark and shook his head.

"If I was, I wouldn't have asked the bartender for the best champagne they had."

"Fair point," you giggled.

He took the blanket from you spreading it out on the sand. You placed the cushions down while he placed the platter in the middle and motioned for you to sit down first.

"So, why did you bring me out here, stranger?"

"I've been meaning to talk to you for a while, but I guess tonight was a better time to do it than any. And name's Zoro."

He placed the bucket down and took a seat next to you. Grabbing the bottle of champagne he worked on opening the aluminum seal. Your eyes wandered over his arms, mindlessly stopping at the label and you felt your heart fall to your ass.

"IS THAT DOM PERIGNON?!"

You covered your mouth surprised that your voice came out so loud. He chuckled at your reaction before he moved to open the wooden cork.

That champagne costs a fortune. The selling a kidney or two kind of fortune. Fortune that you will probably never reach in your lifetime to just blow away on champagne regularly.

"Yeah, it is," he smiled. "I asked the bartender for the best they had and it's safe to assume he delivered."

"And you want to drink that... with me?" you asked pointing between the bottle and yourself.

He nodded, busy fighting with the bottle. He almost had it open but the cork just needed a little shimmying. An idea seemed to pop into his head judging by the way he snickered at you.

"Wanna see a trick?"

"Sure."

He picked up one of the champagne glasses in the bucket and held the bottom to the mouth of the bottle. He wiggled it a little on its neck until he found the perfect balance, moved it back and thrusted it forwards with force.

You expected the glass to break and fly everywhere but that didn't happen. What did happen was that the cork flew towards the small waves washing up on the shore with a safe pop sound. The glass was unharmed and the bottle was at last open, cold steam escaping it.

Your mouth was hung open in surprise. So he has several tricks up his sleeve, besides the gentleman act.

Satisfied with your reaction at his trick, he smiled again, this time more widely. He poured you a glass first and handed it to you before pouring himself one.

"Happy new year, stranger," he smiled, tilting his glass to you.

"Happy new year, Zoro," you returned the smile and clinked your glasses together.

You sipped the champagne surprised at the taste. It had a rich apricot flavor, a little sweet but not too over the top. You took your time savouring it. Who knew when you would get to relish in luxury like this ever again so might as well enjoy it.

You leaned back watching the remaining firework display. He moved to get comfortable, leaning on his side with his head on his palm. He had your exposed back in full view. Your skin looked so soft that it took everything in him not to trace his fingers down your spine.

"You're an interesting man."

"So I've been told."

"You had me running circles around you for weeks, you know."

"I know," he swirled the liquid in his glass, staring at it. "I'm not exactly a pro on the dating field."

"You don't look like a beginner either," you said before throwing back the champagne in your glass down your throat for some more liquid courage.

"What about you?" he asked as he got up to pour you another glass. "Should I be wary of any male alphas that would like to smash my face for kissing you?"

You laughed heartily at that. He's been around you for half an hour at most and he already made you feel giddy inside.

"Nope, not a single soul. Main reason why I've been hanging around at the club more than I do around my own house."

That was an exaggeration but there was some truth in it. You did it hoping to find someone that you could connect with in some way. And you did, considering the green-haired man currently laying next to you. It was just a question of whether he felt that connection too.

"And I thought you were coming to see me."

"Of course I did!"

His eyes shot up from his glass just as you registered what you said. The blush on your face expanded and you probably looked like a tomato by now.

Stupid alcohol.

"Sure you did," he chuckled.

You leaned back to smack his chest and he threw his head back laughing at the sight of your red face. As annoyed as you felt, his laugh was quickly growing on you.

"Tease," you tsked.

"Can't help it," he scoffed with a tight-lipped smile, taking another sip from his glass.

"I guess it's good," you mumbled mostly to yourself.

"What's good?" he asked.

"Letting go of the past. Living in the present, as they say."

"Losing control every once in a while can do you good," he stated.

Maybe he was right. Maybe tonight wouldn't turn out so bad after all.

Watching the sea at night when it was the calmest, with the moonlight glimmering on the waves put you at ease. Just as much as the man beside you did right now.

You dove in the charcuterie platter, laying on the blanket with your heads propped on the cushions, talking about anything and everything. You learned more about him and the fact that he could handle a shit ton of alcohol seen as he was downing champagne glasses faster than you.

Telling him about yourself and what a shit year you've had in terms of dating to get him off your case a little was supposed to be just light-hearted banter. But he just took that as a sign to tease you more.

"How to lose a guy in 10 days was definitely made about you," he howled laughing, after you told him about one of your situationships.

"Really funny. As if you've seen the movie," you said, popping a grape in your mouth.

"Try me," he taunted, adjusting his position to sit above you.

You mentally searched the movie for a scene that was iconic but could have easily gone unnoticed. You found the perfect one. Suppressing your giggles to not give it away, you cleared your throat to get in character and recited the scene word for word.

"Little, big, little, big... I don't know... I guess we will find out!" You made the grabby hands and pulled on a silly face, embodying the character.

He sat thinking for a few moments until the colour drained from his face at the realization of what scene it was.

"I am not saying that line even if you shoot me."

"Come on. I did it so it's customary you do it too."

He face palmed, releasing a sigh of annoyance. He just had to put himself on the spot like that. But he was a man of his word.

Looking around for anyone that could possibly hear him and become a collateral victim, he let out an exasperated breath and got into character.

"You-You can't name my member... Princess Sophia."

You rolled around laughing as he dug his face in his cushion in shame. The look on his face was priceless and you decided to pay back his earlier teasing with even more teasing.

"I have a question."

"What now?" he mumbled, voice muffled by the blanket.

You got closer to him and tried to keep your laugh in as you whispered your question in his ear.

"Does your member have a name too?"

His head shot up, eyes squinting at you dangerously. The earlier embarrassment was gone from his face and if the twitch in his jaw wasn't a clear indicator that you were in deep shit, the hand gripping your cushion was a good sign that you should run away.

"You're so dead."

Before he could lay his hands on you, you got up and ran out towards the shoreline. He followed, rushing to catch up with you.

You lifted your dress a bit to avoid stepping on it and bolted as fast as you could. He almost had you when you took a turn to throw him off, running back to the spot your blanket was on.

"Catch me if you can," you laughed.

"There's nowhere for you to run."

"Watch me."

You slowed down on purpose, letting him get close to you again only to dash out back to the sea. The soft sand under your feet turned from smooth to damp and soon enough your feet were submerged in cold water. You thought he wouldn't follow you to avoid getting his clothes soaked but he proved you wrong again tonight.

He ran towards you at full speed and you really had nowhere else to run this time. The bottom of your dress got drenched, sticking to your legs the further you went in. The water only slowed you down, giving him the opportunity to catch up with you.

You were waist deep in the water when his hands sneaked around your middle pulling you to him. You tried to break free but it was no use. The grip he had around you was as strong as steel.

"Let me go."

"Only if you say sorry."

"What if I don't? You gonna make me?"

"Huh, so she's got guts too," he chuckled.

"Why don't you fuck around and find out just how gutsy I am?"

You refused to give in. Splashing water at him only made the grin on his face widen because he started tickling you. And everyone knew tickling was a low belt move. You roared with laughter thrashing around in his arms.

Suddenly, retreat sounded a lot better than being tickled to death.

"Okay! I'm sorry!"

"Are you really?"

"No, but stop tickling me."

Reluctantly, he let go of you. He knew you had a surprise attack in store. His suspicions were confirmed true when you ran behind him, trying to push him into the water. He lost his balance but he wasn't planning on going down alone, hand quickly clamping down on yours to pull you with him.

You gasped as the water enveloped you fully. Sitting back up, you were fully drenched. Most of your hair was wet too, water dripping out of it like you just stepped out of the shower. Zoro, on the other hand, was giggling at you like a fucking school girl proud of bullying her friends.

Annoyed with his antics, you turned around and walked back to the blanket, plopping yourself down. He walked out too, that devilish smirk plastered on his face.

He stopped in front of you. You tried to look away from him but you couldn't. Especially when his shirt was so soaked that it stuck to his body in a way that let you see all of his toned muscles.

"Like what you see?"

You snapped out of your delusions, putting your annoyed face back on.

"Go away," you waved him off.

A sudden gust of wind blew reminding you of just how exposed you were. You looked like a wet dog. Your dress was wet and stuck to you uncomfortably, increasing the cold seeping inside your body at a faster rate than you liked..

You let your hair down placing it around your neck to get some sort of warmth from the parts that weren't soaked. Covering your arms in an attempt to wash the cold away, the breeze only persisted, blowing even more harshly as if to spite you. Zoro noticed you shivering.

"Are you cold?"

Still irritated with him, you shook your head no. You didn't want his help after the stunt he pulled. But the way you held tightly onto your arms and rocked from side to side told him otherwise.

Out of nowhere, warmth enveloped you. You turned to see Zoro right behind you, hands on top of your shoulders to make his blazer jacket cover as much of your body as it could to keep you warm. It was big enough to look like a blanket on you. You sighed at the comfort, pulling it closer to snuggle into the warmth of the fabric, feeling some of the cold dissipate.

"It might be hot out here but it's still December."

"It's January now," you stated.

"Okay, smartass," he boomed.

The night sky got darker and stars twinkled brightly as you talked until you finished the bottle of champagne and the platter. As much as he liked to tease, you loved his company a lot. The more time you spent with him the more you wished tonight would never come to an end.

He suddenly got up from his spot beside you and went to stand in front of you. He scratched the back of his neck looking at you which made you confused until he spoke up about his intentions.

"May I have this dance?"

He extended his hand out to you and you hesitated. Not out of the nervousness you felt yourself, but in a ploy to push his buttons. He deserved a little more teasing after making you wait for it for so long.

"Come on. I told you I wasn't gonna let you leave without a dance."

The way he looked at you changed your playful plans. It looked like he was really trying to be more into it and you couldn't say no to those eyes.

"Okay," you gave in, letting your hand slip into his.

His eyes lit up like moon crescents as he pulled you up and brought you closer. This must have been the softer, drunken part of him.

"What about music?" you asked.

"Music?"

He moved from one side to the other until he settled on a spot a few feet away from the blanket, tugging you with him. You were about to question his actions when you heard it. The faint sound of music playing from the club mixed with the sound of the waves breaking at the edge of the shore. It wasn't too loud or too faint but just enough to be peaceful and rhythmic background noise.

"You're unbelievable, in a good way," you giggled. He just smiled at you like a fool, most likely gone on the bouts of alcohol induced giddiness.

He pulled you closer, one hand holding yours out while the other curled around your waist, similar to a fancy dancing pose. Stepping left and right he pulled you with him into something that resembled a very weird tangled waltz.

You danced a combination of everything. He twirled you around, bottom of your dress swirling around you. Then he spun you out and brought you back in to hold you close as your hands settled back on his shoulders. He even lifted you up like one of those ballerinas you see at the opera, paying attention not to drop you face forward in the sand like a true dancing partner. You couldn't deny you had chemistry.

Twisting you around again, he stopped to dip you down on your back, hands secured tightly around you. He leaned down to your face, just a small distance away from putting his lips on yours. You closed your eyes in anticipation, expecting him to kiss you.

You wanted to feel his lips against yours again, missing the way they fit just right with yours back at the club. But just when you thought he would kiss you, you felt his lips elsewhere on your face - in a small peck on your cheek.

He brought you back up and grinned as your cheeks flushed pink. You brought a hand up to your cheek to touch it, feeling the faint brush of his lips burn into your skin as you processed it. He took your hand away from your cheek and laced his fingers with yours, leading you into yet another dance.

It was ridiculous. You were dancing to faint tropical house music on the beach in the darkness of the night with no sense of rhythm. But the soft sand under your feet felt better than any rigid dance floor you've been on and your dance partner was gentler than anyone you've ever danced with. You wouldn't trade this for the world.

The side effects of all the alcohol you drank was slowly kicking in and thankfully, the pace of your swaying got slower. You laid your head on his chest and let him rock you back and forth, listening to the beating of his heart that was more music to you than anything else.

"Thank you."

"What for?" he asked, looking down at your small form in his arms.

"For tonight," you sighed. "I haven't felt this good in a while."

"You're welcome," he said softly.

He was still trying to process things himself, mostly the fact that he was finally holding you after playing hooky for so long. You curled up closer searching for more warmth in his arms and he couldn't help but smile at you once more. It wasn't like him to show his inner happiness to people, but it seemed like his smiles were limitless for you.

The high of the alcohol you consumed was long gone, replaced by a drowsy feeling overtaking your senses. The music stopped playing telling you it was way too late for the world to keep going at it. All you could hear were the waves lapping each other in close distance, accompanied by a peaceful silence and the soft breaths coming from your human pillow.

You cuddled into him, sighing at the warmth he radiated. An arm was draped around you, drawing random patterns on your back that lulled you even more towards sleep though you didn't want to give into it just yet.

His other hand busied with yours, tracing up and down your fingers one by one. He turned them on all sides, then moved to your knuckles, inspecting each ridge and mound, each fading scar evidence of your rebel childhood. Once he was satisfied with his findings he intertwined your fingers together, bringing them closer to his chest.

Your hand looked so frail in his bigger one, encased like a precious jewel in a locked treasure chest with a lost key. But that key wasn't lost. It was just waiting to be found. Just like the latch on the hotel in your heart was waiting to be put back on the door by a person who wanted to stay all year around. Could he be that person for you?

He was the only thing turning in the tides of this endless night and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. Meeting him felt like some kind of blessing was bestowed upon you. Like all the pain of the previous year and the endless waiting was finally rewarded the way it was written to happen from the start.

By the looks of it he felt that connection too. It might have been just a one night adventure but only your sober minds could decide that in the fast approaching morning. But for now, being in each other's presence was enough to calm the tempest that's been swirling in your heart for so long.

He noticed you doze off when your head felt a little heavier on his chest. Taking his eyes off the sea and the few boats popping up and down the waves in the distance, he looked at you. Your cheeks turned a rosy shade, most likely from the amount of booze you had. They puffed up against his chest, light snores escaping through your opened lips. There was a little trail of drool pooling at the edge of your lower lip. He chuckled and wiped it away, making a mental note to tease you about it when you wake up.

Truth is that he's been waiting around for you all night back at the club. Time was flowing way too slow and his patience was running thin. But once you finally walked through the door his inner clocks froze over. His breath got caught in his throat, so much that he couldn't find it in himself to make a move to you yet again.

So, he just watched you from his usual spot, hoping he could get some liquid courage if he drank a little before coming to you. But he wasted way too much time wallowing in self-pity.

When you got your things and slammed the glass on the table enraged, he knew you were about to leave. If he let you leave back then he was sure he wouldn't be able to face you again. So he finally made a move to you, running through the crowd to catch you.

The fact that you were now tucked safely in his arms, wearing his jacket, told him he made a move at the right time. Who knew what other man would've stolen you away if he waited for too long. Or if he ever got to see you again.

From what you told him, he could sense how much you craved to find someone. To stop opening up to people who didn't even want to hear about anything other than bodily pleasure. Because he craved a deeper connection with someone too. He was just bad at showing it most of the time.

"I'm so glad you didn't settle," he whispered, laying a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

He spent the remainder of the night watching over you, until the dark sky turned into the early haze of dawn. He closed his eyes for a bit, waiting for you to wake up and unknowingly, he doze off in the comfort of feeling you close.

The comfort you were wrapped in was so cozy that you found it hard to open your eyes. Once you did, you took in your surroundings, surprised to see the green-haired man still at your side. The longer edges of the blanket were wrapped around the both of you, providing some warmth in the early morning breeze.

You half expected him to leave you here on the beach. To wake up and think of it as just another drunken night out that others normally wanted to take back. But he didn't.

You looked towards the sea. The previously dark night sky that was illuminated by the glow of the moon was now a myriad of orange and pink. It was brighter than any sunrise you've ever seen.

The start of a new beginning, you smiled to yourself.

The sun was still on his way to fully light up the sky, but the rays were already bouncing off the waves in glimmering gold and the sea looked so crystalline and blue, like you were watching a movie scene unfold before you.

Turning back to the man beside you, you took your time taking him in. He was sound asleep judging by the way his chest rose up and down slowly and had one arm under his head, propping it higher than the cushion could. The other one was still wrapped around you, in the same position you remembered it to be before you fell asleep. Small chimes came from his golden earrings as they dangled on the breeze of the wind.

He looked so at peace, a close-mouthed smile on his lips. The urge to lift your hand and trace the outlines of those lips grew the more you looked at them.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer," he spoke, taking you by surprise. His voice was way deeper than last night, resounding a little raspy in your half-asleep ears.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Enough to feel you staring at me like I'm made from tempered glass."

"I wasn't staring."

"Sure you weren't."

"Okay, you caught me."

His eyes crinkled in pride at getting you to admit it before opening up to look at you.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, a hint of amusement present in his voice.

"I slept fine," you replied, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow.

He looked too pleased with himself in the early hours of the morning. As if he knew something you didn't.

"Did I do something weird in my sleep?"

"I wouldn't say weird. But I'm glad you were comfortable enough to do it with me," he smirked.

What the fuck did I do? Did I snore? Did I kick him? Wait. He said I did something with him. Did we do something like-

Your eyes widened as the thought crossed your mind. The look on his face could only say that you did exactly what you thought you did.

"DID WE FUCK?" you whisper shouted.

His grin just widened and he started laughing hysterically, slapping the sand beside him like a maniac.

"Why are you laughing- YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

"Your face! That was priceless."

The daggers you were throwing at him told him you weren't in the mood for ridicule you this early in the morning. Too bad he had other plans.

"But you did do something."

"JUST TELL ME ALREADY," you shouted, getting ready to strangle him.

He seemed deep in thought on whether he should tell you.

"What are you willing to do for this important information?"

The way he wiggled his eyebrows at you told you he wanted to negotiate some terms first, as if he was withholding national secrets or some shit.

"I'll do anything," you sighed, playing along with him.

"Anything?"

"Zoro, I swear to god I'm going to put my foot through your face."

"All it takes is one kiss."

"One kiss? What are you, five?"

"Rules are rules. Kiss or I'm not telling you."

Your tongue poked your cheek in annoyance as you looked out at the sea debating your choices.

You could either run away and live with the humiliation that you'll never know what you did that had him make fun of you this bad. Or you could just humour him and find out what it was quicker. The latter seemed like the better choice.

"Okay, fine."

You decided to go for a kiss on the cheek, to pay him back for the almost kiss he gave you while dancing. You leaned down to him, cheek in your direct line of sight. You were about to plant the quickest peck on it when he moved his face so your lips landed on his instead.

They tasted like a glass of freshly opened champagne, just like the one you drank with him last night. You felt him smile against your lips, holding onto the nape of your neck to pull you closer. When he was satisfied enough with his kiss, he let go of you and you separated, breaths fanning each other.

"Are you gonna tell me now?"

"Did you know you drool in your sleep?"

"I DID WHAT-"

"There was like a whole lot of it on my shirt. Like a newborn baby's."

You burried your head in his side, trying to hide the blush rising on your cheeks. He just laughed at you squeezing you closer.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. I think it was adorable."

"You're just saying that," you mumbled.

"I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

He moved away from you and you thought he got up. Turning your gaze upwards you found him standing above you, hands on either side of you.

The playfulness in his eyes was exchanged for dark eyes staring down at you with hunger. The smirk on his lips told you that nothing remotely good passed through his mind at the moment and it made you gulp.

He leaned down to you and your breath hitched. No man made you this nervous before and you didn't even do anything together to feel this way. Like you sinned a thousand sins or something.

His lips brushed your ear, chest almost pressing against yours.

"Am I making you nervous?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know."

He looks like a sculpture and I'm supposed to not get turned on by it? Yeah, right.

He took you by surprise pressing his lips on the side of your neck. It made you forget where you were in the first place, mind entirely focused on the fluttering feeling he instilled in you. He moved the kisses all the way down to your jaw, with the goal of getting to your lips.

Just before you could feel them again, your stomach grumbled loudly interrupting your moment. Turns out the flutters were from being hungry.

"You have great timing," he shook his head at you.

"It's not my fault I'm hungry."

"Then, how about we grab something to eat?"

"I would love that."

He sat up and helped you up, starting to gather the stuff that needed to be taken back to the club in the bucket. You grabbed your heels, putting your arms through the sleeves of his jacket. Once you had everything you started making your way back.

"I'm craving seafood," you recommended. "What do you wanna eat?"

"You."

"EWW DONT SAY THAT."

"I'm joking."

"I am never kissing randos on new year's ever again."

"Only if I can become the only rando you kiss on every new year's."

"You're impossible," you smiled.

"Only for you."

Part 2

Thank you for reading! As always, comments, likes and reblogs are welcome :)

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #opla zoro #one piece #one piece x reader #i don't know about you but i am wrecked after this one

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inklore · 2 years

Text

wild child, i want you.

part two | series masterlist

premise: coming back to hawkins for your summer vacation from college is the last thing you want to do, but you find yourself back in your hometown and it all goes to shit in a matter of weeks. thinking your summer is already a bummer, getting high with the town outcast doesn't seem like that bad of an idea.

pairing: eddie munson x richgirl!reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, blowjob (eddie’s first one, he’s a lil virgin in this sorry y’all), drug use, cheesy flirting, past crush unmentioned but there, tiny bit of praise kink, i made eddie’s van cooler than it actually is, reader is a lil self absorbed but it’s ok, mentions of past bullying, class difference, and shit family dynamics.

etc: i may write a part two for this, may turn it into a little mini series depending on the love i get on it. but um this boy is the cutest little virgin and no one can convince me otherwise ok thnx. title from the song wild child by wasp aka a song on this verysexy playlist!

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

“Shit! Fuck!”

The sounds of aggravation that erupts from your throat are anything but ladylike. The moon shining down just right in the sky to show the hunk of mud that’s now stuck on the top of your red pumps. Pumps that cost too much to be covered in dirt and grime, and yet here they were. Ruined.

All because you had stormed off from the party taking place in the backyard of your long term boyfriend—who was now your ex because fuck him, and fuck this washed up town.

You knew agreeing to come back for the summer would be absolutely detrimental to your psyche. Missing out on what would have been the summer of your life alongside college friends, a new city, on boats, planes; anywhere better than Hawkins!

But being the amazing, doting girlfriend you were, you had been easily convinced by the promise of gifts, booze, and a hell of a summer.

Two weeks in and you were miserable, had ruined Louis Vuitton’s, barely tipsy off of cheap beer, and now newly single.

“Fuck this place!” You scream to yourself, louder than you should have in a not–disturbing–the–peace way, a dog barking in the distance. You needed to catch the first bus out of this dump of a town as soon as possible.

“I completely agree,” comes a voice to the side of you. If the pumping of anger and spite wasn’t making your heart boom in your ear drums right now, or the distraction of materialistic items didn’t have you fuming: you were sure you might have seen them, whoever they are. Or at least smelled them. The heavy scent of weed lingers in the air and you can only assume it’s the weed guy your ex-boyfriend had been talking about.

You weren’t in the mood to deal with anyone else tonight, let alone some stoned out stranger whose opinion you didn’t ask for, or could fake care about.

Turning in their direction you plan on telling them as much, plan on giving them your best bitchy scowl. But when your eyes adjust, actually see who it is; take in the long hair, the mix of jean and leather, the rings that gleam in the moonlight. Your expression changes from annoyance to amusement, your rude rebuttal long forgotten.

“Munson?”

“In the flesh,” his smile is still as boyish as you remember. At least from what you can remember. You graduated two years ago, he didn’t. Either year, so you've heard.

The two of you hadn’t been friends, barely acquaintances. You had a handful of classes with him, even got partnered up with him for one biology project that neither of you truly put the effort into. But you flashed your pretty smile and batted your eyes and got the both of you passing grades—thank god for creepy male teachers.

You and Munson, Eddie, were so far off of the spectrum of being in each other’s realms. The class difference not being the only thing setting you two on two different sides of the universe, let alone Hawkins and your group of friends. The many taunts from your boyfriend and his friends coming back to your mind, and the weird snarkiness Eddie would always fight back with. Unbothered by the stupidity of high school taunts.

“Graduate yet?” You give him a playful smile, lean up against the car behind you to attempt and scrape off the mud on your shoe with your thumb nail.

“No.” He crosses his hands over his chest, “but still keeping up with expectations.” You’re barely listening to him, frowning down at the dirt now caked under your perfectly polished nails, fuck.

You huff out a breath, pull your head back to look up at the night sky. Try to do those breathing exercises you see your mother do when a bird shits on her BMW. “You here for the party?” You both know you’re joking. Know that most, if not all, the rich kids here had once—or still do—rag on him.

“My services got the invite.” He clarifies, “not me, personally, for obvious reasons.” He mumbles that last part and it makes you chuckle under your breath.

“Still the weed guy, huh?” Pulling your head upright again, you look over at him. His response being holding his hands in the air in an ‘obviously’ type motion. Nothing has changed with him, and maybe that’s just what happens when you stay in this dead end town. But something also tells you that Eddie isn’t the type to just change. What you see is what you get, unapologetically.

Must be nice to be that carefree. You could use some carefree in your life; that booming sound of your heart in your ear still pumping with materialistic and asshole boyfriend frustration.

A smile spreads across your lips as an idea pops into your head. As you make the decision to get that carefree feeling in the most synthetic way possible, while also sticking it to the aforementioned asshole in the backyard.

“How much were they going to pay you?”

“For the-”

“Yes, the weed, Munson. How much.” You roll your eyes, that old high school queen bee tone coming back. Making even your own self wince, but who knows when—or if—the smell of weed had already wafted off of Eddie and traveled to the backyard and the two of you were soon to be joined by the rest of the party.

Fuck them.

“Thirty.”

Reaching into your bra, the low cut material of your dress having the perfect swoop to showcase just enough to keep the mystery, but add to the intrigue—helping to house your money snuggly in the cup of your bra; you pull out the folded cash your father had handed to you on your way out of the door.

“I have fifty here.” You hold it out between your forefinger and middle, “it’s yours but we have to leave right now.”

He looks a little surprised, his eyes flash from your chest to the money in your hand.

“You have a car don’t you?” You look around the dead street, try to remember what hunk of junk you may have seen him driving around when you were in school.

“Is the money for the ride or the weed?”

“Both.”

Eddie hums, “seems a bit low.” He crosses his arms, scratches his cheek. Starting up a slow pace as he speaks, “I mean I am risking getting caught with a distinguished lady such as yourself. From what I hear you’re still with your Princeton lover. Don’t know if I need him thinking I’ve stolen you away.”

You think he’s half serious for a second. The look of quarry on his face, but then you see his smile. See that boyish amusement again, it makes the corners of your lips tick up in amusement; contagious. Something you remember from bombing biology together. As much as you wanted to dislike him, ignore him, or push the assignment completely onto him, he had distracted you with weird facts about his band you were not interested in—and the other random nonsense that would slip out always made you roll your eyes and hide the contagiousness of his smile that spread across your face.

But you find yourself holding onto the knowledge that he knew about you and your ex. Don’t know why it’s the only retaining thing your mind seems to keep flashing on, it didn’t matter to you who still talked about you in Hawkins. Especially when you were certain it was out of pure jealousy for you getting out and them not.

You can’t see Eddie contributing in gossip, though. Maybe that’s why you’re holding onto the knowledge that he knows, remembers. Still hates the asshole. Much like you do.

“We broke up.” You state, make clear with a wide smile that you’re more than happy about it. His lips tug up more, stops in his tracks and leans back on his heels a little as he stares at you. The two of you sharing some silent moment before you laugh, “are you going to be my kidnapper or what, Munson?”

He smirks, grabs the money still between your fingers. Nods his head back to the van at the end of the driveway—that only makes sense is his, because of course it is.

“America's Most Wanted here I come!” He hollers a little too loudly, making you laugh.

“Sorry about the mess.” Eddie maneuvers around you, picks up some of the random garbage and clothes strewn at your feet and throws them in the front.

You’re sat on the small couch he has in the back of his van. The velvet from the cushions softer than you expect it to be on the back of your bare legs. Expecting it to feel grimy at the very least, and maybe that’s not fair of you to expect—or think.

You’re surprised at how unfazed you feel about the random things contributing to the mess back here. Finding yourself actually smiling at the makeshift lights he has hung up, how they cast a red glow and illuminate the posters he has tapped with that thick grey tape you know is going to rip off the paint if he was to ever remove it.

The atmosphere oddly calming, compared to what you are used to.

He pulls out a tape from the glove compartment and slips it into the stereo, a heavy metal track playing low through the speakers, the bass deep enough to rock the van.

You’re parked behind his trailer.

When he had pulled up to it and pulled around the back you were once again reminded just how different your lives really were. Had found yourself scrunching up your nose at the drab looking mobile home. Regretting it the minute Eddie caught you and gave a pressed lipped grin, “can’t build mansions this far out. Grounds too mushy.” He joked, but it only made you feel worse.

Why, you have no idea. It wasn’t your fault you were born with a silver spoon and he was born without one. Neither was a bad thing. He seemed more than happy with his life—knowing what you did about him, that carefree way about him—than you did with your own, it would seem.

The cushions bounce from the way he plops down beside you. Pulling a metal lunchbox out of nowhere and placing it in his lap, “who knew the Princess of Hawkins, knew how to be bad.”

You make a face, “people don’t really call me that do they?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh how clueless the other half live.”

“I can still take back the money, you know.”

“Ooh, not twenty of it, at least.” He clicks his tongue, opens the metal box. The waft of weed stronger, making your nose burn. “Gotta keep that half for risking my life, it’s only fair.”

“You are the chattiest drug dealer I’ve ever met.”

“You meet a lot of them, do ya?” You can see countless baggies of whatever he’s pushing to the side, a lighter, more random junk, and then he’s pulling out a small bag of weed. “You really are bad, Princess,” he smiles.

You have to look away from him, have to hide the cheesy smile that moves across your own face—because it’s annoyingly warm in here, and you are here to escape and get high not become best buds with him. “Just roll it, Munson.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

This wasn’t your first time smoking. You had dabbled in weed at parties since your sophomore year. Had taken part with it at the handful of college parties you had been to. You were used to the light feeling, the cravings, the giggles. Or so you thought.

Maybe you just hadn’t been smoking the right stuff. Maybe it had been the liquor you had always paired with it, the buzz you thought you felt from what you smoked actually from the malt and not the shit weed.

Because you’ve never felt this good before. Not from weed. Liquor. Even around your friends.

You felt so good right now.

Your cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much, can’t remember when you had dropped yourself onto the floor of Eddie’s van. Your heels kicked off and feet propped up on the cushions of the sofa—right next to Munson.

He’s not as spread out as you though, maybe a little more lax. His back slouched lower on the sofa, legs spread further apart. Jacket gone, black sleeves rolled up.

Has he always had that tattoo? Just how many rings does one guy need? Your heavy lids ache as you hyperfocus in on the bracelet on his wrist, the tattoo on his arm. Each one of his rings that don’t even budge as his fingers flex, as he uses the small pocket knife he had pulled out from his back pocket; grabbing your discarded heels to scrape the mud from them.

“You really don’t have to do that,” you giggle. “My dad will just buy me another pair.”

A smile spreads, “but you were so upset about them. Even I winced when I saw the mud pile you stepped in, nightmarish.”

He laughs along with you as you completely lose it, “how shitty is it that that is a nightmare to me? Ruined Louis Vuitton‘s.”

Eddie shakes his head, holds up the shoes. Now cleaner than before, way too clean for him to have just used the pocket knife. The bottle of water between his legs spotted upon further inspection, where did that come from?

“We all have expensive things in our lives we don’t want ruined. Shoes, guitars, people.” He shrugs, “not shitty at all. But this clean job might be.” He chews on his lower lip.

You maneuver yourself so you’re not flashing him from the bottom of your dress, as you move your legs from the couch to sit up. Grabbing the red pumps from him to do your best look over, ignoring the burn your eyes give when you widen them.

“Munson, I think you’re in the wrong career.” You tease, smiling up at him. You’re sat in front of his open legs, have the perfect view of that boyish grin.

“Shoe shiner?” He acts bashful, swings his hand around batting the air. “I’m not that good.”

“Think once you graduate you gotta start your own business, ‘Eddie’s Spit n Shine.’” You joke, the both of you doubling over in laughter. Munson holding onto his stomach as he slaps a hand over his knee.

Once your giggles have died down and you can hold yourself up straight, you watch him. Watch the way his cheeks are redder, watch the way he moves some hair out of his face. His previous words of “but you were so upset about them” and “we all have expensive things in our lives we don’t want ruined”. If this had been anyone else, one of your friends, your boyfriend, they would of been just as grumbly about the heels as you. Would have told you to trash them and offer to take you to the strip mall the next day to help you spend more of your fathers money; no big deal.

They wouldn’t have offered to fix them. To do something as simple as what Eddie had done.

And yeah, they were just shoes, and it wasn’t that big of a deal. But something fuzzy was settling in your chest, something in your stomach fluttering like it very much was a big deal.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You ask without thinking. Set your shoes down beside the couch, lay yourself back on the cool floor of the van.

“What?” He chuckles lowly with a hint of confusion. Just as surprised as you are at the question.

“Why are you being so nice to me, Munson.” You chew the corner of your cheek, look up at him. “Not like we were friends, ever, in school. And I remember plenty of times where my friends weren’t the nicest.”

“The rich kids not being nice to anyone who doesn’t drive a Mercedes? Shocking.” He jokes, makes you laugh.

“I’m serious.” You tap his knee that’s peeking out of one of the rips in his jeans with the tip of your finger. “Why are you being so nice?”

His face grows serious, but there’s still a hint of a soft smile there as he leans over to dig in the metal lunchbox again. Pulls out the spliff he rolled earlier alongside the one the two of you already smoked. You watch as his fingers run along it, “your friends may have not been the nicest, especially that lover boy of yours.” He gives you a playful roll of the eyes at the mention, that ache in your cheeks continuing. “But, you were always nice to me.”

“I never stopped them though. From being cruel.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, grabs the lighter resting beside your feet. “You made up for it by helping me not fail biology, for once.”

Your face contorts as you laugh, “put my tits on the line for that grade.”

Eddie chokes out a howl, stops what he’s doing to double over again. “Never been more happy for the power of tits.”

Your throat hurts from how hard you’re laughing. Holding your hand up in front of him in a high-five invite, “to tits!”

“To tits!” He slaps his palm against yours as he holds up the blunt in the other one in a show of salute.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed this hard. Or felt this good. This happy. This playful. This whatever-the-hell-that fluttering feeling was in your stomach. You don’t know where Munson got his stash but damn was it good.

And damn was he cute.

Wait—what?

You quickly avert your eyes from him. Look up at the roof of the van, try to focus on the posters and scattered glow in the dark stars up there. You did not find Eddie Munson cute. You were just severely high right now, and still reeling off of your incredibly fresh break up. That’s all.

You hear the flick of the lighter beside you, hear him take a long puff. Fill his lungs, hold and blow it out, before you see him hold it out for you. Taking it silently, not looking at him—you probably shouldn’t have anymore, not with how you are thinking right now. But you didn’t feel like going back to your parents house. Calling it a night right now didn’t feel right, and it’s not like Eddie was rushing you out of the van.

So you press the blunt to your lips and decide to stop thinking. Just smoke. Listen to the beat of the metal still coming from the speakers.

“Lover boy must have done something tremendously fucked, huh?” He gives you a somber smile when you turn and pass the smoke to him.

“Munson, are you trying to gossip right now? Like we are two catty friends?”

He chuckles, inhales. “Us friends?” He makes a face, smoke rolling out of his mouth. “That’s obscene.”

“Nightmarish.”

“Grotesque.” He puts a hand to his heart, “what would the moms at the country club say?”

You laugh. “I don’t think either of my parents own a gun, so you're safe there. And my mother barely notices me,” you confess. Regret it when you look over at him and see the sympathy on his expression. “Please don’t.” You groan, take your turn to smoke, holding it between your thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t?”

“Give me that look.”

“What look?”

“Like you feel bad for me.” The laugh you let out this time is anything but humorous. There’s no joy. Just a salted down wound that you don’t let anyone see—so you don’t know why you’re talking about it right now—that burns the back of your throat. “I have everything.” You mumble, “perfect life. Perfect future ahead of me, money, the car, the friends, the boyfriend. No one should feel bad for me.”

You’re staring up at the roof again as you hold out your hand to give the blunt back without looking at him. Without acknowledging your own words with anything more than woeful self pitying. Eddie wasn’t interested in hearing about a rich girls problems and you had no interest sharing them. Anymore.

A silence settles between the two of you, it’s awkward and filled with the silently passing of the smoke between you; puffs of air, breaths in. Your heart is beating in your ears again. Except this time it’s something close to embarrassment and not anger.

“It wasn’t pity.” He breaks the silence when your fingers brush against each other when it’s his turn to hit. Your eyes finally finding their way back over to him, “how could someone not notice you?” There’s a twitch in his lips.

And fuck are your eyes burning from how high you are right now or because that was teeth rottingly sweet, and your chest is feeling fuzzy again—and Eddie Munson has some pretty eyes. Fuck.

“With the hair alone,” he waves his hand around emphasizing the top of your head. “Kind of hard to miss ya.” That boyish smile coming back when you start to laugh and lean up to swat him.

“I want my money back, Munson!”

“You’ve already smoked the weed!”

“Pain and suffering!”

“Mine or yours?” He jokes and he’s putting out the rest of the blunt to hold his hands out in surrender, as you lean up on your knees to playfully swat at the side of his arm.

“And here I thought we were actually having a moment.” You scowl at him, “you can take the high school out of the boy but not the—wait—you can’t even do that.”

His jaw drops, looking fake wounded if the big grin on his face is any indication of its falsehood. “The Princess of Hawkins has some bite.”

“I’m not the Princess of Hawkins!” You roll your eyes, “I’m just me–”

“Perfect,” Eddie finishes, adds. His lips come together, he swallows. “Perfect–you.”

You make a face at him. Another childish playful insult on the tip of your tongue but swallowed down, your throat feeling drier than ever as he stares down at you with a type of fondness that has your mind thinking—and feeling—way too many things right now.

And it feels like the moment slows, time stops. You take in everything, really take it in. You on your knees in front of his open legs, your palms on the cut out parts of his jeans that showcase his knees. The fuzziness in your chest turning into something else, something racing and filled with heat. Something that should surely not be there—all from what? Meaningless flirting? Eddie jesting with you?

Weed was definitely not a good idea. You should of just went home. Should ask him to take you home right now before your haze filled mind has you thinking of doing something else you definitely shouldn’t do.

Like move forward. Your knees dragging across the floor until the tops of them are pressed to the bottom of the couch. Until there’s no space left between you and Eddie’s thighs flush against the sides of your arms, his groin inches from your face. Your palms now higher up on his thigh.

You can feel how tense he is right now. Watched his expression go from softness to rigid with nerves. And maybe you are the only one who’s been feeling something tonight. Maybe he can handle his weed better than you. Or is simply not interested in you whatsoever. All his mindless flirting just that: mindless.

But you can’t help but want to test the waters. To see if any of those things are actually true.

Leaning up, your palms digging into the meat of his thigh as you do, your eyes moving from his to his lips and back up. A hint he seems to get when he meets you halfway and your lips are being pressed together in a gentle kiss.

It’s slow at first, curious, new to the both of you. Sloppy, and you can feel Eddie’s hand twitch at his side until he loses whatever fight in his head that has him holding back, and then it’s at your cheek and his thumb is digging into your chin the deeper the kiss gets. The more the two of you learn each other’s mouths. Which way to turn your head, that slow timid way his tongue pokes at your lips and then finds its way into your mouth; the quietest of noises coming from his throat when his tongue rubs against yours.

A noise that makes your stomach flutter. Makes an ache start between your legs.

Have you ever been kissed like this? Have you ever felt like the other person was learning you from the inside out? Memorizing how your lips moved, felt, tasted. The way your own deep rooted noise slips out and vibrates against his lips when his other hand comes to the other side of your head and pulls you so close to him as he leans further down into you. The top of your cleavage rubbing against the material of his shirt, tickled by his hair.

When the two of you finally pull apart, your eyes feel heavier than ever. Feel like all your energy went into that kiss and you feel buzzed. Like you’re on cloud nine. Like you’ve never felt better, as the two of you pant. Try to catch your breaths.

Feeling Eddie’s thumb nail running along your bottom lip you look up to his eyes, see they’re on your lips. His brows pulled together.

“Munson.” You don’t mean for it to sound like a whine. It’s not. You’re not whining right now, you’re just…feeling things and really high and maybe you can’t remember anyone you’ve been with ever touching you like this. And he’s barely touching you.

You may not have thought it to be a whine, but Eddie does. The look in his eyes as they finally meet yours has you floored. Has you seeing a want in a pair of eyes you don’t think you’ve seen before—know you haven’t; needy, nervous because of that need.

And when your palm moves of its own accord higher up and over until you feel a bulge in his tight jeans, the intake of breath he does. The slight droop of his eyes. All the decision you need to act on whatever these feelings are.

There’s disappointment in his eyes when you pull away from him, just enough to have his hands drop from your face and yours finding the top of his pants to open them up and fumble with the zipper.

“Whoa,” a nervous chuckle, then his hands wrapping around your wrists to stop you. “Whoa,” he says again. His breath still heavy. “What–should we–you,” he stammers.

It’s a bit cute, but it also has your cheeks burning in embarrassment. Shit. Have you completely misread this? Maybe he just wanted to kiss. You were fine with just kissing, if it was going to be like that everytime. But there’s an ache, a want, to hear that noise again. The one he had made in the back of his throat. To see the impressive bulge that your fingertips had touched.

“Do you,” you pull your hands back, take them from his hold and chew on your lip, “not want to do this? More..” you trail off. You can’t imagine what you were coming off as right now. Have you ever been rejected? Tonight was clearly the night of firsts for you.

“I,” Munson shakes his head, and your stomach sinks. Face falls. But then he’s shaking his head more aggressively, “no, that’s not,” he sighs. Takes a breath to ground himself, his hands coming to hold the tops of your shoulders. His expression serious, “Yes. I want to do this. I just…I’ve–never thought this would be happening and that I would be admitting to it in a situation, let alone this one–“

And then it clicks.

“Munson.” A slow smile snakes its way across your lips, “are you a virgin?”

His leg bounces, teeth chewing at the corner of his mouth. “Yes.”

“Just to be clear I mean sex, you’ve never had sex?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ve done..other stuff, right?”

Silence for a beat and then he’s shaking his head. You try and fail to hide the surprise on your face, “I should take this as a compliment. Your utter shock.” You can see the blush that is growing up his neck and over his already red cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Your smile falters for a second, “I just thought with that kiss, you had done something before.” You can’t help but look down at his parted lips, yours still tingling from them. “It was..”

“Perfect.”

That word again. Hits you the same way it had before. Has the both of you staring at each other’s mouths until you’re kissing again. This time faster, harder, the passion seeping from the want and morphing into something that now has you completely on fire. Engulfed by Eddie. Your fingers are in his hair. His hands cradling your face like it’s so fucking fragile.

“Can I taste you?” You’re panting against his mouth, running your hands down his chest back to the top of his pants that are still undone. Open enough that you can push your hand in them and move your fingertips against the top of his shaft. That same noise he did earlier coming out as a puff against your parted mouth.

He nods, “yes.” It sounds so soft and filled with need. He presses one more kiss to your lips before he’s slowly pushing himself back, giving you room and helping you maneuver his pants and boxers down his thighs. Just enough to spring his cock free.

It’s bigger than you imagined it would be—never imagined it to be. But, fuck. How has he not done anything when he kisses like that? When he’s so funny, cute, and nice, and his cock is so thick.

Your jaw aches just staring at it. Tongue coming out to wet your lips as you wrap a hand around the base of him, have to hold back the sound you want to make from the sound he makes; a shallow breath let out, just below a whimper. His hips already jerking involuntarily up, precum at his tip.

“Are you sure? You’re not like…just super high–“

“I am super high, Munson.” You smile sweetly and it makes him do the same. A low laugh covered up by you leaning in to press your lips to his, “and yes, I’m sure. Incredibly.” You hope your own look of want for him comes across clearly, not only in your words but with the way your hand starts to move on his shaft, and the way you run your tongue along his bottom lip.

A breathy, “fuck, oh-kay” slipping out from him.

It’s all the consent you need, the push to have you leaning down to run the flat of your tongue across his leaking tip. The hiss of pleasure he lets out only a prelude to the whimpers and gasps he makes when you let your tongue explore along his length, pumping and sucking with your mouth along a thick vein that runs up the side of his cock. Your thumb rubbing a slow circle behind the head of it, making his hips buck and legs tense around you.

And when you finally put him in your mouth, finally swallow down the already there taste of him on your tongue—you both let out a moan. Can feel the top half of him shift like his head has fallen back, an image of his beautifully parted mouth hung open, eyes screwed shut in pleasure has you moaning against him again; your body on fire, your pussy aching.

You match the pumps of your hand with the drag of your mouth up and down his dick. Swirl your tongue around the head and suck when you reach it. Let yourself go as far as your gag reflex will let you until you’re gagging around him and Eddie is cursing and digging his nails into the cushion of the couch.

You completely expect to feel his hand on your head, to be pushing or pulling your hair to guide you. Even fucking up into your mouth. When you’ve done this for other guys they were nothing less than over aggressive about it. So when it doesn’t happen part of you thinks he’s not enjoying it; a thought that’s quickly debunked by the grunts and shaky breaths coming from above you.

And when you steal a glance to the side you can see how red his knuckles look from the death grip he has the cushion in. How his fingers twitch and hand runs along his thigh, acting as if he wants to touch you but not daring to. You steal another glance up at him, “oh, ohmygod” tumbling from his lips when your eyes meet; he looks so desperate right now. So flushed and pretty.

You pull your mouth from him, let your lips press the tiniest of kisses to the tip that makes his hips gyrate, chasing your mouth. “You can touch me, Munson.”

“Where?” He asks shakily.

“Wherever you want.” You reach for his hand and press it to your cheek, “here, so you can feel yourself inside of me.” He whimpers, you smile. “Or here,” you run his hand down your neck, raise your brows to note that area being an option before you descend further. Until you reach the top of your cleavage, “to tits.” You say playfully and it has a deep chuckle scrunching his eyes. “Okay?”

He hums, nods. “Okay.”

And then your mouth is on him again, his tantalizing noises back and making your thighs press closer together. Making you encourage the small thrusts of his hips up into your mouth. Drool slipping down your chin when your own whimper is dredged up from the back of your throat when you feel the pad of his thumb run along your hard nipple; before his palm squeezes and massages your boob in a way that makes you move your body further into his.

The pleasure you’re giving him being handed back to you with the same energy of want and need, and it has you shellshocked. Has your body working overtime with heat, arousal, and wanting to please him. Wanting to hear more of those groans. To feel the head of his cock nudge the back of your throat and his “holy shit, that feels so good” when your throat spasms around him.

If you knew sucking Eddie Munson’s dick was this fun you would of done it years ago.

Why hadn’t you seen him before this night? Why did it take weed and giggles and flirting that turned you on more than you want to admit—to really see him. And why did the thought of not being able to look away from him again, to go back to not seeing him, something that was inevitable: make fear take root in your chest?

His hand has moved to hover over your head, his rings adding more pressure to the back of your skull than his actual fingers do. “You’re so perfect,” he whimpers. Pushes his hips up into your mouth, pulling your lips further down his throbbing shaft. “Perfect.” He repeats, your stomach flutters and flops and you preen around him. His breaths get deeper, hips moving more frequently, fingers flexing in your hair. He’s close, so so close.

And if you thought the noises he was making before were beautiful, the whine he lets out when he says, “I’m going to come, can I–oh fuck–can I do it in your mouth?” Makes your eyes roll back, your head nodding in approval and then you can feel him leaning back; a loud moan coming from his mouth, his fingers gripping the hair on top of your head as he comes against your tongue. The searing heat from it like a salve to the ache in your throat.

You swallow him down. Let your tongue lap at the droplets left on his tip as you suck him into your mouth one last time before he’s letting out a hiss of over sensitivity.

He tastes just as lovely as he looks right now. Completely flushed, eyes red and heavy. One corner of his mouth ticked up in a soft smile.

“Did I hurt you?”

“What?”

“Your hair,” his fingers rub at the back of your skull gently. “I’m sorry if I pulled too hard,” the softness of his words has your chest feeling heavy. Those feelings back, your arousal under shadowed.

“No,” you shake your head. Pull his hand from the back of your head, don’t know why, but you let your lips skate across his rings as you kiss his fingers. “It was perfect.”

His mouth pulls into that boyish grin, for the millionth time tonight. “It was.”

Maybe your summer won’t be so boring after all.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things one shot #joseph quinn #heavy metal love !

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luvrrgirl444 · 7 months

Text

chapter 14: genius

“hi, y/n and i’m here today with genius to explain the lyrics of my song ‘kill bill’.” you smiled at the camera.

“so, fun fact about kill bill is that it actually only took about 6 hours to produce. i, uh-” you laughed. “i saw this thing online and it made me feel some type of way, and i was like ‘i need to release what i feel right now.’ so, i took out my songbook and went crazy. i called up my friend jean, my producer, and i was crying,” you laughed again, and made a phone gesture with your hand and brought it up to your ear. “and i was like, ‘bro i just wrote these lyrics, can we make a song right now?’ and we did, in like 6 hours.”

VERSE 1

i’m still a fan even though i was salty

hate to see you with some other broad, know you happy

hate to see you happy if i’m not the one driving

“the person that this song is about is actually also an artist, and he’s actually really talented. so basically, i was saying that even though i hate that nigga,” you stuck up your middle finger. “he’s still a great artist, unfortunately. the next two lines are literal, uh, about a month, maybe a month and a half after we broke up, he was posted up with another girl. which was honestly really shitty because he broke up with me to ‘focus on his music’” you quirked your eyebrow and used quotation marks. “basically this whole song is about me being a jealous heartbroken bitch.” you sarcastically smiled.

PRE-CHROUS

i’m so mature, i’m so mature

i’m so mature, got me a therapist to tell me there’s other men

i don’t want none, i just want you

if i can’t have you, no one should

i might

“i was tryna convince myself that i was strong, and that this wasn’t hurting me as much as i thought it was, but it definitely was. literally wrote a whole muthafucking song about it.” you laughed. “we we’re dating for a long ass time to be honest, so with the ‘i don’t want none, i just want you’ lyric, it’s basically saying that i’ve been with you for so fucking long, it’s always been you, how am i supposed to move on, y’know? it’s lowkey corny but yeah. the last lyric is very um, yandere simulator vibes but it relates to the theme of the song, which is like jealousy and vengeance and possession.” you put your hands up. “don’t worry y’all, i’m not a criminal.”

CHORUS

i might kill my ex, not the best idea

his new girlfriend's next, how'd i get here?

i might kill my ex, i still love him though

rather be in jail than alone

“i can explain y’all, i’m not a killer or a criminal but imma be real, i was definitely having some intrusive thoughts. but everyone does. like, anyone who says they’ve never had thoughts about hurting someone that did them dirty, or fucked with them, they’re fucking lying, 100%. and relating to what i said before, we were together for so long. no matter how much i try to deny, the love is still there. it’s been built up for years, as much as i want to, i can’t magically forget it overnight.”

you continued on with singing the lyrics and explaining them until you completely finished the entire song.

“kill bill was an impulsive creation and release. we recorded and finished the song in like 6 hours, and i was like ‘i want to release this today’” you pointed downwards. “but everyone told me no.” you rolled your eyes. “so i asked when was the soonest we could release it, and it was like in 2 days. so the next day i posted on instagram saying that i was releasing a song tomorrow and that was it. there was no promo for it, which is why i’m so fucking shocked that it did so well. but, thank you to my fans, friends and family, i love you all. stream kill bill, album coming soon, bye!” you blew a kiss to the camera, before smiling and making heart with your hands.

comments

erenjaeger: whole lotta yip whole lotta yap

⤷ y/nsinterlude: BITCH

y/nsbby: ALBUM COMING SOON? HOW SOON IS SOON GIRL??

⤷ y/nsinterlude: im doing good wbu

valentinagomez: TE AMO MI AMOR 👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏾

⤷ y/nsinterlude: TE AMO HERMOSA 👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏾

user2000: i love u ur so real ❤️❤️

⤷ y/nsinterlude: im the realest i love u too 🤍

conswife: stop talking shit about connie omfg

shyshiloh: i just died 😵😵

⤷ y/nsinterlude: i’ll revive u bae

user182: not u still in love with that sick man..

⤷ y/nsinterlude: I DIDNT SAY THAT SHIT

jkirstein: professional yapper

⤷ y/nsinterlude: i’m beating your ass

user555: dont let c***** see that video..

🦋 !

- this chapter is fr just a whole lotta yapping but 🫣🫣

taglist! <3 @lovelytayy @cyberkitty1 @sqlty @cr0quis @koreluvsspring @asp7n @lottiematthewsceo @shidousmainluvr @idontknowwhatnametochoosee @drugzforyou @astrokatsuki @crvzy-fujoshi @ncentic @ilyconnie @stellartoi @bubbabobabubbles @tee4str

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bvidzsoo · 2 months

Text

Cherry Blossoms

🌸Student!Mingi🌸

TW: nothing, just a lot of crack imo, and mentions of murder sorta lol

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: university!au, stranger to lovers!au

A/N: Wellll, hi? hehe, idk either what this is other than a super random drabble that I had to write or else it would've haunted me for the rest of my life LOL (it also might be another excuse to not write my thesis *dies*) Apologies if the humor is not humoring, I usually don't write in this style (at least imo). I hope you enjoy, and let me know your thoughts about it! (divider)

Have you ever had a moment of clear confusion? So profound that no matter how hard you tried making sense of it…it just started making even less sense? That the longer you moved your mind around it, the stronger the headache became. Well, that’s how I felt staring up at the scarily tall guy looking down at me with the softest eyes, which were slightly shaking if I looked close enough. His plush and red lips pulled into the sheepiest grin I’ve ever seen and nose tall and straight, probably sculpted by some God the second he was born. I knew his face, I mean, it would’ve been hard not to when I’ve spent half a year staring back sometimes as I have caught him looking at me numerous times. This guy standing in front of me right now, placing his weight from one leg to another, hands behind himself, and cheeks very slowly flushing, was a predicament I would’ve never even thought I could’ve dreamed of.

“Come again?” I found my voice at last, eyebrows threatening to go past my hairline.

“Are you free right now?” The question sounded innocent enough, but I couldn’t put myself past the graveness of his voice. I would’ve never imagined it could go so low and hold so much rasp, but again, I have barely heard his voice before as he rarely conversed with people around himself.

“Depends why you want to know.” I answered, pushing my hands inside the pockets of my striped spring jacket. The weather was finally warm enough to allow us to wear our lighter fabrics without freezing to death at any given point of the day. The guy standing in front of me hesitated for a second, and then ran his fingers decorated with heavy rings through his silver-blonde hair. The change to it was new, and I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t taken aback by it when I saw it. But it fit him, in a very handsome way, If I must admit that.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to hang out with me…” Oh, well, that was another twist to the plot I had not been expecting. I chuckled, not because I found him funny, just because I knew my two best friends would be hollering on the sidelines hearing this guy’s words. Half a year spent staring at me from the shadows, avoiding eye contact and aggressively watching me when I wasn’t looking, now stood in front of me, looking just as nervous as I felt on the inside, asking me to hang out with him. What sort of alternate universe have I accidentally entered this morning?

“Okay, sure.” He didn’t need to know I actually had one more class. He had finally approached me, was talking to me, looking at me, and acknowledging my existence as one should normally do. That sounded like a good enough reason for me to skip my last class, I’m sure anyone would understand.

“Oh, that’s…” The flush on his cheeks became more prominent now, and he bit his plump bottom lip to stop his lips from spreading into a huge smile, “nice.”

I hummed and offered him a small smile, actually feeling excited about how things were turning out. Even five minutes ago if someone would’ve come up to me to tell me that he’d finally approach me and even ask to hang out, I would’ve laughed in their face.

“Oh, I’m Song Mingi, by the way.” He clumsily reached his hand out, staring at me expectantly. I was so used to his sharp gaze on me that I found myself holding his gaze with a wider smile now, grabbing his hand, and giving it a firm shake. Song Mingi didn’t have to know that I already knew more about him than I should’ve, considering the fact that we were strangers until now. Really, before you start calling me creepy and a stalker, social media exists these days. And let’s be honest, if a mildly attractive guy keeps staring at you every chance he gets, wouldn’t you also be even just a little bit curious about who he is? Call me a magician or simply skillful when it comes to finding people on social media, but it’s been over three months now that I have known his name, and, well, birthday. I might be one of those crazy astrology girls, huge emphasis on being sarcastic right now, astrology girls are awesome when they aren’t fighting demons and regretting every life choice upon one glance at one’s birth chart.

“Lovely finally knowing your name, Song Mingi,” I chuckled, releasing his hand, watching as his eyes widened a little bit, “Oh, you certainly can’t think I haven’t noticed you staring—”

“Oh, I’m sure you have!” Mingi cut me off, chuckling awkwardly, “I didn’t make it very subtle, to be fair.”

“Not at all.” I chuckled amused, flashbacks of his other three friends huddled around, as if we were in kindergarten or something, staring me down while I walked by with, of course, with Mingi in the middle, watching me with a blank face, fierce eyes boring into the back of my head, “I’m Y/N.”

“You have a beautiful name.” Well, perhaps that would’ve made me choke if I had been drinking something, but to my luck I wasn’t, and so I straightened my back, trying to fight off the shyness threatening to cage me in. So far, at least the very little I knew about Mingi by observing him back when he, miraculously, wasn’t paying attention to me, was that he was quiet. Withdrawn and a little even shy, perhaps, but mostly just content in his own world, unbothered by those around him. He rarely spoke, but when he did, I have noticed his friends fighting demons to not die from laughter. And if he turns out to be a funny guy, bingo, isn’t that what every girl wants?

“Thank you,” You have a beautiful face, but I can’t go saying that to him right away, right? “What do you have in mind? I mean, where do you want to hang out?”

And now let’s hope he’s not some dodgy psychopath who hates my loud laugh and made an elaborate plan to slaughter me the second he gets me alone.

“Would you like to go to a coffee shop or would you prefer walking?” Mingi proposed with a gentle smile, his rather sharp features looking dangerously soft and warm as another blush threatened to flush over his cheeks. If he kept on blushing, I might just die from cuteness aggression, “The weather is really nice today…”

It is, but not nicer than you, Song Mingi, “It is, let’s go for a walk, maybe?”

“A walk it is, then.” Mingi sealed the deal with a firm nod of his head, and I couldn’t help but giggle, trying to remind myself that this was really happening and I wasn’t in some alternate universe, or even in dreamland. Wouldn’t be too surprising if this interaction was just a fraction of my imagination; my mind is a scary place when it becomes delusional.

“Would you like to go to the park up on the hill?” That was the nicest park in our city, and well, at this time of hour it was littered with just the perfect amount of people to not become bothersome, but neither scarce. Not that I have trust issues—I do—but this is a complete stranger I just accepted to hang out with, and quite shockingly, I do not wish to become the next true crime topic of some youtuber.

“It’s a lovely spot, but…” Mingi suddenly looked slightly embarrassed as he ruffled his silver-blonde hair, rings glinting deliciously under the sunlight, “it’s a bit far from our university and…I don’t have a car.”

I quickly waved the ridiculous words away as I watched Mingi become more embarrassed, “Don’t worry about it, I have one. We can still go.”

“But…I don’t want you to use fuel just for us to—” I reached out as I grabbed his arm, the sudden physical contact stunning Mingi into silence. Oh, did he also feel the charged spark and instant butterflies taking off in my stomach? Or was I starting to like this guy without actually getting to know him first…

“While fuel is expensive, I love to drive.” I smiled sweetly at him as Mingi licked his tasty looking lips; I can’t seriously think they are tasty when it’s our first time talking, “So don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” His eyebrows furrowed just slightly as he nervously chewed on his lower lip. I nodded and grinned at him, probably doing something no sane person would’ve done. But I have stopped caring a long time ago about what others consider sane or not. Rising on my tiptoes, I slung an arm around Mingi’s shoulders and yanked his head down, just a little closer to my face as I nodded enthusiastically. The way his face became red shouldn’t have made me feel so giddy.

“Extra super-duper sure, Mingi.” He chuckled and poked my cheek, I guess it was my turn being taken by surprise. We stood like two idiots grinning at each other as I released him and he took a step back, running his fingers through his silver-blonde hair again, drawing my attention to it once again. Oh, how could I have forgotten? He was a Leo, was he waiting for my compliment? But before that, I was curious about one thing, “Hey, why do you always stare at me?”

Mingi’s face went blank for a second and it made me think that perhaps now is when his psychotic side comes to light, meaning I would dodge a bullet quite early on, but no, he rubbed his lips with two fingers nervously and averted his eyes, “Uh, well…obviously I’m into you. I mean, you know, why else would I stare at you so much?”

Oh, and he’s blunt. Don’t you just love a man who gets straight to the point?

“Because you’re a psycho who hates my guts and imagines how to kill me any time he sees me?” I offered another option, and watched as Mingi’s eyes widened to the point they would pop.

“No!” He exclaimed, almost looking scared himself, “God, no! You’re pretty, and attractive, and you caught my eye a long time ago, I was just too much of a chicken to approach you before.”

“Well, what changed?” I raised an eyebrow, and Mingi scratched his nape awkwardly.

“Uh, my friends threatened to tell you if I didn’t do it myself.” I chuckled and motioned for him to follow me as I started walking towards the parking lot of our university.

“Took them long enough,” I muttered under my breath, but Mingi’s eyes fixated on me as he heard me, “Well, Mingi, I also must admit you’ve caught my eye. Mainly because you staring so much made me feel uncomfortable until I got used to it, but…you’re quite handsome yourself upon a closer look, I must admit.”

Mingi chuckled, shooting me an amused lopsided smirk, “Means I’ve got a chance.”

“Means you’ve got a chance.” I looked at him with a grin, our gazes locking for a few seconds.

To date or not to date a Leo, is today’s question.

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