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scudslut · 4 months

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A New Years Surprise 🎀

daryl x fem!reader

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

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

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

Currently, you were a mess.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Either way, you hated the celebrations.

This one in particular though, caught you off guard.

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

And for one reason only.

Daryl.

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

Well, here it was.

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

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

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

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

This was just awful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. He likes it.

Heat pooled in your stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes Dar,” you gasp.

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

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

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

He was a hunter after all.

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

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

And so did he.

Daryl Dixon was a tease.

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

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

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

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

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

“And where did ya find somethin’ so pretty, hm?” he questions gruffly, once again rubbing his thumb over the wet patch forming on your panties.

You lean back on your arms, dropping your chin to watch his movements.

“I-uh, on a run the other day,” you huff, your words stuttering in excitement and anticipation.

Daryl only hums in response, as he dips his fingers and pulls them to the side, exposing you fully to him.

He barely gives you a second to register his actions before he’s dropping his head between your thighs, licking a long strip across your soaked cunt.

Your body jolts in surprised pleasure, your right hand flying to grip his soft brown locks as he laps at your clit.

Moaning loudly, your hips rock into him as he continues to lick and suck, lost in the taste of you.

“Oh god,” you whimper. Your arms are shaking behind you, ready to give out any second as you watch Daryl devour you like you were his last meal on earth.

He always looked so damn pretty, eyes closed and entrapped between your thighs.

He lifts his head, groaning at the sight of you and begins trailing kisses over your hips and down your inner thighs.

“Sweet girl,” he mumbles between kisses, “always thinkin’ bout me, huh?”

Your eyes roll back as you sink to your elbows, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“Asked you a question, baby,” he nips at your skin causing a soft sting.

“Always Dar,” you pant, rolling your hips into him again. Your body was pulsing with lust and Daryl could sense how needy you were for him, like it had been weeks without his touch and honestly, it felt like that for him too.

He was about ready to cum in his jeans at the sight of you alone. Legs spread for him, pupils blown wide while you panted and moaned noisily just for him to hear.

Trailing his lips back up, he grips your waist stilling your movements, “What do ya need from me, hm?”

Your mind blanks for a moment, surprised by his uncharacteristic generosity. He was never this quick to give you what you need, always wanting to drag your pleasure for miles and miles until each pretty sound you could possibly make filled his ears.

“Come on now, or do you want me to decide for ya?” he asks again and you quickly shake your head, grabbing him by the shoulders and scooting back until you both were at the top of the bed.

As he lands above you, arms on each side of your head, you finally feel him and how hard he already was.

Rocking into him suggestively, “You know what I need,” you whisper.

Daryl groans from the friction, dropping his head to your shoulder and rutting into you further, chasing your movements.

You hadn’t seen him this worked up and responsive in a long time, and god were you loving it.

You pull his head up to face you and crash your lips onto his, hands finding his belt trying to discard him of it as fast as you possibly can. Daryl’s a panting mess above you, “Baby are you tryna kill me?” he groans when he feels your hands brush against his cock as you attempt to rid him of his jeans.

All you can do is whimper into his mouth as you struggle, and he kicks them down and off the bed.

He grabs you hands and pulls them above you, pinning them down as he begins to attack your neck with bites and kisses.

“Please Dar,” you whine, “need you now.”

“I know baby, I know,” he coos, attempting to soothe you as he draws your skirt and panties down your legs.

You begin tearing at his vest, needing to feel him closer to you, as close as he could possibly get. You feel him chuckle against you, “So eager for me, are ya?” as he lines himself up with your aching core, teasing you even more.

Taking him by surprise, you crush his hips into yours, filling yourself to the hilt all at once. You gasp from from the mixture of pain and pleasure, as Daryl all but whines into your mouth.

“Oh shit, fuck me,” he groans as he begins to slam into you at a bruising pace. You claw at his shoulders, rocking your hips to match his fast movements.

“Just love this cock, don’t ya?” he grunts, lifting one of your legs around his waist to drive into you even deeper.

You felt your brain cloud over, unable to think about anything other than him, drunker on his cock than you’d been from any night of drinking you’d partaken to in the past.

“Don’t go dumb on me now, darling. What did I ask ya?” he repeats, slowing his hips to sensual rolls, so it only stroked that cord in your stomach but kept it from building any further.

“God yes,” you moan, matching his slow but absolutely delicious pace.

Daryl is a groaning mess in your ears as your bodies dance a synchronized rhythm together, moulding into each other like pieces of a puzzle.

His hand snakes between you two, finding your clit easily and he begins to stroke you gently, allowing the fire in your abdomen to build rapidly.

“Oh Dar,” you moan and Daryl only picks up the pace, chasing after his own high to experience with you. Your clutching to him for dear life as he pounds into you quickly, grunting and groaning quiet praises about how good you feel.

You can tell he’s close when his hips start to stutter and shake, losing his rhythm slightly and you finally feel the cord break.

Your body floods with ecstasy, cunt pulsing around him causing his high to come crashing over him with you. Waves of pleasure wash over you as you both come down, his hips slowing to a stop.

He rests his forehead down to yours while the both of you struggle to catch your breath. You feel Daryl start to chuckle against you and your eyes lazily drift open, “What?” you mumble, running your fingers slowly down his back.

“Never was a big fan of surprises before, but ya can bet your ass I am now.”

#daryl dixon #daryl imagines #norman reedus #norman reedus smut #the walking dead #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon smut #twd smut #twd drabbles #daryl x reader

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 year

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Seen

The first time you see Ghost’s face, you’re both nervous.

You’re nervous because you know it means he trusts you. He’s letting you see the man behind the coldness, behind the bad dad jokes and the expert killer. He trusts you to know him more than just the skull faced killer.

Ghost is nervous because he knows it’s more than just trust. Of course, he trusts you enough that you can see his face and knows you would never break his privacy but it’s so much more than that.

Showing you him, the real him, the Simon that’s protected by Ghost is what makes him nervous. The vulnerability he feels when he peels of his mask and stares at you, his heart in his ears and his stomach up in knots is unbearable.

Simon is everything Ghost isn’t.

Simon is scared, he is fragile, he is neurotic. Without the mask, without Ghost, he’s unprotected. He’s vulnerable to everything and everyone, and that includes you. He worries that the scars across his face make him ugly and disgusting to look at. The person he once was etched into his skin because Simon Riley may have died but pieces of him were still in the cracks, being the one that slips out of his shadows when his mask is gone.

He worries that when you look at him, self-conscious and anxious, you’ll hate what you see. You’ll hate the Simon that’s not always strong, who may cry when he has bad nightmares, who shuts down when he’s upset. You’ll hate the scars, his blond hair, his nose and uncovered mouth. You’ll hate everything about him and then you’ll leave him.

The very thought makes his heart race more and makes him nauseous. He wants to hide, he wishes he never let you see Simon and only let you know him as just Ghost. You didn’t need to see Simon, he wasn’t worth it and the longer you stared without a word, the more he regretted showing you.

The first thing you do is place a hand on his cheek. His eyes watch you as you ghost your fingers over a scar on his cheekbone. You hold his face in your warm hands and touch his scars with a kindness he isn’t familiar with.

Simon’s heart feels like it may have stopped as he sees you take in everything on his face. His jaw is clenched so tight it aches as your eyes, your beautiful, love filled eyes, rake over him in adoration. He’s never seen you look at him with this much love before and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Simon.” You whisper and caress his face. “My Simon.”

If Simon wasn’t in love with you before, he is now. He has fallen so hard, so deep for you that even if you rejected him, if you left him, he’d never stop loving you. He wants to be yours and you to be his. He wants all of you and he wants to give you all of him, even the ugly parts he’s kept hidden.

Simon feels safe without his mask when he’s with you. When you’re around him he doesn’t need Ghost to protect him, he doesn’t need to protect himself, he doesn’t need the mask.

He finally understands that when you see him, when you see Simon Riley he’s worth it. He’s worth the amount of love and patience you have for him. You make him feel loved, for the first time in his life, and he fully intends to give it all back to you ten fold.

Simon Riley will never let you go a day without you knowing how much he loves you, in his own strange way.

A/N: idk this was really random it’s probably not good. Wrote this on my phone a very quick drabble

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #cod ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #cod ghost imagine #cod ghost #mw2 ghost #ghost #reader insert

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improbable-outset · 6 months

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📂 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐦í𝐚

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: kissing, SMUT, PIV sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy sex, nipple play, cum play. MINORS DNI🔞🔞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’re not the only one experiencing cravings during your pregnancy.

It was the first time Miguel came home to see you in a summer dress during your third trimester. You would usually wear sweatpants paired with a tank top or a t-shirt that would always be too big for you, in an attempt to hide your growing belly.

But now Miguel could see every curve and crevice of you. The dress reached upto your knees with the thin cotton adorned with floral prints, hugged the shape of your body. But the real charm was the ribbon that was added around the waist that accentuated your blossoming bump.

He watched as you bent over the counter top, the fabric tightened as you stretched further and struggled to reach the edge with the wet cloth to wipe down the surface. You huffed while resting your palm on your stomach, a thin film of sweat coated your face, making you glow under the warm kitchen lighting.

After a moment, Miguel finally drew himself closer to you, his hands gently gliding over the soft fabric of your dress as he placed them on your waist. You hummed inquisitively, acknowledging his presence. The faint smell of disinfectant and soap lingered from your skin as your eye bore up onto his.

“¿Qué pasa, amor?” It was easy for him to get lost in the sweetness of your voice, especially hearing you talk in Spanish. Even hearing you curse angrily, the feistiness with the edge you’d carry in your tone was still attractive. He could already see you after giving birth to his child, after hours of labor and pain and you’d still mumble soft words of affection to your baby’s ear that cradled in your arms.

“Your dress.” He simply replied back, his hand trailing up to reach the spaghetti straps that rested on your shoulder, looping his finger beneath the string.

“You like it? I thought I’d treat myself to one of the dresses from the maternity clothes section today.” You seemed unaware on how radiant you looked right now, especially with your bare arms catching a kiss of the setting sun.

“It’s phenomenal on you.” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear with his soft exhales ghosting over your soft neck. He knew by the shift in your gaze, his compliment didn’t reach you completely. He turned you around so you finally faced him, his hands on your belly.

The impending arrival of your child has brought with it subtle signs of motherhood and visible changes in your body. The stretch marks that accommodated the growing belly, the ever-present sheens of sweat and the swelling of your feet that made it hard to walk sometimes - these were all part of your everyday reality until the big day arrived.

Although you were both amazed by the life growing within you, you couldn’t help but feel unattractive which Miguel wasn’t surprised by. You were never obsessed with your appearance but these changes were bound to make you feel a little more self-conscious. However, the dress you were wearing was a hopeful sign.

Miguel found the connection you shared more profound now more than ever and he continued to remind you that you were carrying his child which made you more beautiful to him as well as the journey you were sharing.

He hooked his finger under the strap again, this time dragging it down your shoulders until the top of the dress hung loosely over your breast and did the same on the other side.

“Miguel…” you breathed but it sounded distant and it didn't fully register in his mind. His focus was solely on the straps that fell completely off both arms, the dress slipped off the top now exposing your breasts. Watching them grow along with your belly made Miguel’s libido flare.

Carefully, he cupped his hand over one, grazing his thumb over the hardened nipple. He knew you were more sensitive now so he handled your chest with care. The barest touch would have you whimpering. He heard your groans as he kept fondling with your breast, a sharp exhale leaving your lips.

Gentle.

He watched your dress loosely cling over your swollen stomach. He knew it wasn’t going to fall to the floor so he tugged the fabric and pulled it over your head before he lifted your bare body on the countertop.

“¡Ay Miguel! Not here. I just cleaned the counter.” You scolded lightly, but the grip you had on his biceps contradicted your protest. You wanted it as much as he did.

“I’ll clean up the mess after. Just let me have you now.” He was already tugging your undies, feeling the pool of your arousal staining the fabric.

“You’re unbelievably needy, you know that?” You watched him as he kneeled down to reach your cunt, your belly now blocking your view.

“I don’t see you complaining, querida.” He purposely breathed heavily over your clenching cunt, making sure you felt the hot air from his mouth in an attempt to tease you. Your hand feebly reached around to his hair, running your fingers over his locks in a silent plea to continue. Your other hand leaned against the counter behind you.

His tongue ran over your folds before reaching your swollen clit. He attached his mouth and started sucking on the sensitive bud, keeping a firm grip on your thighs. You tasted different now compared to when he ate you out before he knocked you up. Slightly sweeter than before. He could feel you tugging on his lock and attempting to pull him in closer to your cunt. But he was more firm and he wanted to take his time with you.

As he pulled away, a few strings of saliva were connected from your fold to his lips that he quickly wiped away. His cock was painfully hard behind his digital suit and he was sure you already noticed.

With a few taps on his watch, his suit disengaged, each pixel fizzled out in cobweb shapes.

Both your elbows rested on the counter as you locked your gaze onto him. He loomed over you, hands on the counter and leaning in before his lips found yours. The kiss was soft and sweet but carried a depth of emotions. He felt your swollen belly press against his torso as he leaned in closer, deepening the kiss. Breaking away from your lips, his gaze fixated on you as he brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear.

So soft.

He held onto your waist and pulled you in until his cock was inches from your cunt. Pre-cum was already leaking from the tip and twitching in anticipation. Slowly, he pushed himself in and felt your walls caress each inch of him. You were already throwing your head back, one hand gripping onto his arm to steady yourself.

He could feel every pulse from his cock rubbing against your silky walls and flesh, squeezing him just right. Your body swayed helplessly over the countertop, taking in every thrust from his hips. He groaned as he was lost in a haze, completely aroused by how your wet cunt was pulling him back in greedily with each withdrawal.

Finally with his peak crawling up to him, he made sure he reached in deep, but not too much that he’ll hurt you. He felt a sudden rush from his cock as his seeds spilled inside of your swollen womb, reaching every crevice and coating your walls.

With a shaky breath, he pulled out of your dripping hole. As expected, his seeds didn’t stick, instead leaked out of your folds, spilling onto the counter. The post-nut clarity he was experiencing nearly made him forget his promise of cleaning up his mess.

“See why it wasn’t a good idea fucking me on the counter.” You quipped, smearing your fingers over his cum that continued to spill from your folds. Miguel groaned, his senses were coming back to him now and he could feel the newfound frustration settling in.

“Cállate.” He mumbled while grabbing the wet wipes from the shelf. “You’re lucky I had to be gentle with you, amor” he lowered himself and kissed your thigh before cleaning up the surface.

“Next time, we’ll stick to the bed.”

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glamaphonic · 12 days

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no one asked abt my personal headcanon on the trajectory of rick's feelings (and understanding thereof) for michonne but here it is anyway

rick was viscerally attracted to her and drawn to her from the moment they met in season three. for many obvious reasons that was something that he was in no way capable of consciously processing at that point, but it was still there and he would still have these moments of reacting and relating to her in ways that he just didn't with anyone else. (there's a reason everyone--audience, cast, crew--started freaking out and going ARE THEY GONNA BE A THING!??! in s3! a very singular Vibe was there, and intentionally so bcs scott gimple.)

in 4a rick definitely knows that he has developed a big fat honking crush on her. embarrassing for him, really, as others have pointed out. 40 years old with a crush in the apocalypse rip, sir. so he's just sort of bashfully shuffling about just wanting to be around her more. then their world crumbles, as it is wont to do!

in 4b rick basically just...claims her? which is to say, in terms of his emotional landscape, he directly invites her into his immediate family. she accepts and it's a done deal. not only does he fully fall in love with her, but it very much becomes their family. at this point she becomes a grimes in all but name.

in 5a and into 5b, this new dynamic persists even as they're reunited with their extended family. but because of the constant dire straits there's no real conscious thought happening around this or what it means. it just is what it is.

at the end of 5b is when rick actually consciously begins to confront what these Big Feelings he has for michonne are. i could write an entire essay about their scene in 'conquer' being him walking up to the precipice and offering himself to her and, despite her reaffirming her loyalty to him in that moment, him taking it as a rejection. which piles on with all the other things going on at that juncture leading to:

6a is just Rick Grimes Losing It For 72 Hours Straight, but when they ultimately triumph as a community and he's able to feel hope again, that extends to his relationship with michonne. at which point, he starts just looking for his moment.

and he finds it :)

NOW MICHONNE well my queen my goddess the love of my life, she is a whole different story, but i will maybe make another post about that.

#talmbout #richonne #twd

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versethetic · 1 month

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NOT PERFECT. JUST LOYAL.

i like to keep things real here so i tend to share my slight struggles with loa so that others who’ve gone through the same thing don’t beat themselves up over it.

but i’ve actually only fully understood what it means to live in imagination for a little while now;, and then put it to good use just a couple weeks ago.

despite knowing about the law for over a year…💀

OVER. A. YEAR…💀💀💀

even then, i got so caught up in making the images in my head perfect, or making sure i’m “saying the right affirmations" which obviously didn't help my case

i love reading loa posts because they make me feel nice and inspired and just remind me of my power but i somehow equated that as me overconsuming info and then i would spiral within my own head.

i would barely think of my desires as mine and when i did for only a day or two, i’d then turn around and believe that i wasn’t doing enough, that i need to affirm more or visualize for an hour and walk through every step of my day in my new perfect life or else it wouldn't manifest.

loyal according to merriam webster is "unswerving in allegiance"

all the way up until a couple weeks ago, i was not loyal to the idea that my imagination is all i need. i was not loyal to the idea that the 3d means absolutely nothing in terms of “getting” what you want, because there was nothing for me to get. now, i have become loyal to already having my perfect life.

i am that bitch. i am the prettiest princess. i am the smartest in school. i am the most famous. but i didn't need to have the perfect mindset with loa to realize it.

do you see where i’m going with this?

IMAGINATION IS ALL YOU NEED

granted, i had my days after this realization where i still struggled with techniques or accepting my new life as mine, but now i know that if i don’t identify with these things, it has not a single setback on my manifestations.

no matter what i was feeling, i told myself “i have it, my life is perfect, i am calm, i have it in imagination, the old senses are dead to me, i know what’s in my mind is the real truth”

when loa blogs say that you know you have it, it’s not some cheap trick they spew out because everyone else is saying it. if you imagine what you want, it’s officially set in stone. what you think comes to life.

the 3d is the afterimage, the product of a movie you directed, wrote, produced and starred in. you just need to stick with this fact through thick and thin, sleet or snow.

YOU are what the 3d answers to.

YOU are what the mirror reflects.

YOU decide how simple things are for you.

if you woke up and the old senses in front of your human eyes still show something you don’t like, are you gonna take that as a fact?

when you know and are loyal to the fact that your godly brain is showing you that devoted sp you have? that grand big mansion you live in? that whole new life you’re dwelling in?

NO. you’re not. think of you and you're 4d as BFFs who'll never separate, who tell each other everything and have those bff necklaces and go everywhere and do everything with each other. or imagine you're a ceo and your 4d is a loyal secretary who never asks questions and simply obeys whatever you tell it to do, because it trusts YOU. it works for YOU. however you wanna see it, you and your 4d are locked in 🔐🤞, okay? it is not separate from you, it does not seek guidance or information from anywhere other than YOU.

IT IS YOU.

and it took me a long time to see that.

it might be hard at first and the acceptance might not always be there. but i am making a conscious effort to at LEAST continuously tell myself that my imagination is all that matters. to at LEAST believe that what i want is already mine, and that’s the LEAST you can do as well.

your journey does not have to be perfect. your mindset does not have to be perfect. your feelings do not have to be perfect. mine definitely weren't. you just need to be loyal to your imagination.

#loa #law of assumption #loassumption #reality shifting #shifting #shifting realities #manifesting #manifestation #desired reality #verse diary

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iguessimfished · 2 months

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TWO SIDES AU!!

(Finished fully. I'm not changing anything now.)

Two sides AU is just two sides that kinda fight every now and then. When a player first enters the game they're randomly placed in a team (they don't choose)

Team A or Team C

Each round all players get 3 lives and once they lose all 3 they can't respawn until the game is over.

The goal of the game is to elimate the other team. When a team wins they now own that territory until they have to fight for it again.

What they're hoping to do is get rid of the other team for good so they can escape the game

Both sides currently think the other team is a bunch of npcs created by their ringmasters.

TEAM A

AIBEL

The leader of team A. He absolutely despises Caine yet he barely knows him and doesn't even know why he hates him so much. He clearly hasn't questioned this yet and is more busy keeping the players from burning the tent down.

GANGLE

Surprisingly the both strongest of Team A. When it comes to fighting she feels really bad about hurting the other team (unless they have their comedy mask on...) so if you're somehow still conscious after you get whacked by that hammer, you'll most likely hear them repeatedly apologize for hitting you.

JAX

(now with mime inspiration) Jax often enters the battle recklessly and never bothers to help his teammates. (They hate him) he also enjoys to constantly taunt and insult the other team, especially when he manages to gets a kill.

(for short, he's an asshole.)

ZOOBLE

Zooble doesn't like to rely on the others, and instead creates themselves a little army with small parts from their zoobox. But the thing is the critters have little HP and so taking them down is quite easy as long as you don't let them get too close to you.

QUEENIE

When the fight starts she tries to stay far and out of sight while taking down her opponents since she isn't the best with close combat. Although if it ever comes to it she'll leave her hiding spot and come to their teammates aid.

TEAM C

CAINE

The leader of Team C. He also dislikes aibel with no clue on why and a little bit of him wishes they didn't fight so much. But everytime they interact it ends in pointless arguing and bickering..

RAGATHA

Ragatha tries her best to help the team and lead them to victory. And so when her teammates are almost down she hurries to patch up any of their wounds. (literally patch it as in sewing.) Attempting to kill ragatha off first won't be easy since she always has her butcher knife prepared.

POMNI

A newer addition to Team C

She's still confused about everything in this place and rather leave than learn more about it, So often times she'll ditch her entire team to go and try searching for a way out. But when she's forced to stay in the fight she prefers to sneak up on her opponents exactly how she sneaks around the circus. (This is the reason she has no bells)

KAUFMO

(it's hard to draw him in my style :[ ) The second kaufmo gets on the field, everything is on fire. It's become a real problem to the point where outside of battle everyone tries their best to keep anything thats able to start a fire away from him, yet he always somehow finds a box of matches or two.

KINGER

When it comes to the battle kinger more focuses on his traps than the actual fight in hopes to catch a insect for his collection. (He has none so far.) If you let him, he'd go on rambles about the many traps he's thought of overtime and how they'd work. (Probably mentioning insects along the way)

EXTRA

I sadly reached the limit of 10 images so I'll just make a separate post and link it to this 😭

Extras here

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its-time-to-write · 6 months

Note

can i request a continuation of the jamie x kent!reader baby fever fic where they actually have a kid? the best friend’s sister trope is one of my favs and i literally eat up anything you write🤍

I had some down time today, so I wrote a little thing for this! It probably makes more sense if you read the other fics in this Kent! reader universe. Here’s a list:

take your time while you’re mine

would it be enough if i never gave you peace

let’s fall in love for the night

Thanks for requesting!!

here in my arms

Roy is holding the tiniest baby he’s ever seen.

“There’s no way I was ever that small,” Phoebe whispers from the couch next to him, and Roy agrees. Surely Phoebe was bigger than this little bundle he’s looking at.

“Cute little lad, ain’t he?” Jamie says from the other couch.

Roy’s not sure what to say because on the one hand, he doesn’t want to explicitly agree with something Jamie’s said but on the other hand… this kid’s fucking adorable.

“Jamie,” calls your voice from upstairs.

“Coming!” he replies. “You’re good here, yeah Roy?”

Roy scoffs. Is he good here. He’s Uncle fucking Roy. He’s a pro.

“Right, I’ll take that as a yes then,” Jamie says. “Food should be here in an hour. If me ’n the missus ain’t awake by then, just let us be. We don’t need food.” He gets halfway out the room before he stops and asks, “You’re sure you’re good here?”

This time, Roy fully rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Tartt. Go get some sleep before my sister fucking murders you.”

Jamie says, “Right,” salutes to Phoebe, then turns on his heel to head upstairs to your bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and slips under the covers. The curtains are pulled, and it’s dark in the room despite the fact that it’s only the middle of the morning.

You’re barely awake, but you’ve tried your best to stay conscious until Jamie got there. You wiggle close to him and let him pull you into his arms.

“Kid’s fucking great, huh?” he whispers into your hair.

“Hm,” you agree.

“Mum said she’ll be down in a coupla days to help out. Simon’s coming too. Is that alright?”

“Don’t care,” you say. “I need sleep, babe. Kid’s seven days old and I am already wiped out. How’m I supposed to do this for eighteen years?”

Jamie’s rubbing circles on your back, and the only thing keeping you from sleep is the thought that you might not be cut out to be a mother.

“You’ve got me,” he says. “You’re not alone, babe, plus Phoebe can babysit in another three years.”

“I am not leaving George with a thirteen-year old,” you reply. “Nothing against Phoebs, but I can barely leave him with my brother right now without worrying about him. I just wish Molly weren’t so busy because I really, really need her right now.”

A tear leaks out of your eye onto Jamie’s shirt, but he doesn’t care. “It’s alright, babe,” he says, “swear down. Mum’s a fuckin’ genius with babies. She raised me, didn’t she? And I was a fucking handful.”

That just makes you cry even harder. “I want my mum, Jamie. Why did she have to go? I wish- I wish she and dad didn’t leave us. She’s supposed to be here, supposed to help with George and hold my hand and tell me I was the exact same when I was a baby but no she and dad had to fuck off to Paris or something stupid when I was two and leave me and Molly with our cousins! It’s shit. How can you just walk out on your own kids?”

Jamie kisses your forehead and says, “Oi, look. You’re already miles better at being a mum because you’re never going to walk out on George. And mum loves you, mostly because you make sure I eat real food, but she’ll stay as long as you need. I’m off training for another week, besides. Don’t have to go back just yet.”

You sniffle. “I should’ve had him during the off season.”

“Oh yeah, because we planned George’s conception all proper-like,” Jamie retorts.

You’re silent and for a moment he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, except you shudder once, so he knows you’re still crying. Jamie holds you as tight as he can, at a loss for words. He’s pretty sure you’re just tired with fucked-up hormones and that either Molly or his mum knows how to handle this, but for now he’s at a loss for a solution. He’s trying to think of something to say when you beat him to it.

“Do you think his middle name’s dumb?”

That is certainly not what he expected to hear. “Fuck no,” he replies. “George Kent Tartt? Kid’s going places with a name like that.”

You sigh. “He’s gonna fucking hate us for that. Shit, we should’ve done something normal.”

“How the fuck is ‘Kent,’ not normal? Y’know what’s mental? The fact that me mum named me ‘James Tartt.’ Come on, babe. Jam Tart? That’s all I ever got called in primary school.”

“I did veto a lot of your choices,” you murmur.

Jamie shakes his head. “You did, didn’t you? Shame. Kid could’ve been named ‘Apple Tartt.’ He’d’ve fucking loved that.”

“For sure,” you agree. Jamie’s glad to hear that your voice is returning to its normal, sleepy state so he tries to stay as still as possible. Sure enough, you emit a small snore less than a minute later. Jamie smiles to himself and closes his eyes. He thinks he can hear Roy saying something to George and/or Phoebe, so he lets himself drift off with you.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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vampzyke · 6 months

Note

fluff hcs for syzoth and raiden ? 👉🏼👈🏼

୨୧ , fluffy headcanons

syzoth & raiden x GN!reader.

tags, inexperience, fluff, self confidence

. . .

syzoth,

he is definitely inexperienced when it comes to relationships of any sort! so the fact that you and syzoth have entered the romantic stage, means quite a lot. he wouldn't ever be so intimate with just anyone.

during the beginning, syzoth tended to shy away from you even more than before. sure, you two were 'dating' as humans like yourself called it, but that term just made things much more complicated for the man.

he would often hesitate before touching you, liking holding hands or grabbing you by the waist. before he'd speak, he would swallow his words right up when your eyes met his! he was super self conscious of himself.

before you confessed your feelings to him, johnny had actually gone on a whole rant to the poor guy about how complicated romantic relationships with humans were! syzoth was shocked to be frank, he liked you a whole lot. but if what johnny said was true, how could he ever hope to be with you? surely you'd reject him just for being 'different'.

later, syzoth had of course accepted your confession with hearts in his eyes. though the feeling of dread still lingered at the back of his mind. you knew this, it was quite obvious by the way his hands would carefully hover over your skin just for a second, before he would retract it back just as quick; his eyes would hold this heavy longing when gazing upon you, you could feel it even from afar; he would always bite his lip at the thought of you, canines so sharp they would draw blood (to which you would rush to his aide while he stood embarassed).

it would take cherished time for syzoth to slowly become comfortable with the relationship, his worries would soon wash away whenever you took the lead during intimate moments. with you initiating the soft kisses to his temple, or the gentle massages from his arms to his shoulders, syzoth would slowly realise that your love for him was very real and true. it came from the heart.

though it would take time, syzoth will eventually warm up to you and disregard his inner conflicts as you would show him your heart fully! eventually, he wouldnt hesitate to give you a cheeky smooch to the lips for all eyes to see; or the way his hand would trace your spine all the way down where it would linger for a second too long (his growing smirk said it all).

syzoth would love you as long as your heart stayed true to your feelings.

raiden,

though he may not seem like it, raiden would definitely be the one to pursue you.

at first, his affection to you would be so subtle you wouldn't even notice! it would be light touches when he moves past you; the grin he sports whenever you're in his field of vision or whenever he's back from venturing outworld and into the warmth of you arms, you'd always find him offering you a unique gift with kiss to the temple.

that kiss, exactly. you'd never questioned it before and why should you? it's nothing but platonic between the two of you, of course. as soon as his soft lips met your forehead, they'd be gone as soon as they arrived. why question raiden now when it's been so long?

though you couldn't help yourself, of course. why wait when you could just ask kung lao to spill raidens peculiar behavior? the man had just giggled in response before shooing you off, muttering how raiden should just 'hurry up' already. you weren't at all dumb, you knew what kung lao meant.

and well, if raiden wouldn't make a more explicit move, you'd just have to!

luckily for you, the opportunity to confront raiden came just as quickly as you'd decided to do so.

with a kiss obviously! though rather a gentle and tame one to your temple, this one was rather hasty and and all teeth, right on your lips. raiden had heard overheard you and kung lao and decided to make his move first.

raiden kissed you with all the passion he could muster up, and and when he leaned back you couldn't help but laugh at how flushed his face was.

now, raiden was all kisses and hand holding and piggybacks and whatever else he could do to always be touching you. physical touch is a must for him and it was never enough. raiden always had to be in your personal space and though he worried he was coming off strong, you'd quickly reassure him with a sweet smile.

being with raiden was similar to how flowers yearned for its sun. it was warm and gentle, just how you'd imagine it.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 raiden #mk1 syzoth #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #syzoth x reader #syzoth x you #reptile x reader #raiden x reader #raiden x you #syzoth #raiden #gn reader

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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

hi!! i just had to drop by and say the customer’s always right was some of the best smut i’ve read in so long. omfg it was perfect and i can’t stop thinking about it. and that cliffhanger?! you’re trying to kill me i swear 😭 do you think you’ll end up writing a part two? 👀

THE CUSTOMER’S ALWAYS RIGHT | screw the deal

summary: "there's an angel in his trailer, washing his cum-stained jeans after getting off on his thigh, and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve it." pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 6.7k warning: thigh riding, tit play, talks of asshole boyfriends, smut 18+ mdni a/n: ok so i'm still a bit overwhelmed by the support from the last part. like, seriously, you guys are way too fucking nice <333 i hope this lives up to expectations and if it doesn't we can just pretend, okay? be on the look out for many, many more parts to come because i can't get enough of virgin!eddie.

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

The credits of Fast Times at Ridgemont High roll beneath a jittery static of a nineteen-inch TV. Eddie, dressed now in a fresh pair of thin, plaid pajama pants, bangs on the side of the thing with his fist to physically jostle the grainy texture from the screen. It only half works.

He feels about as fuzzy as the lingering white noise on his television — like he’s not all there, like his brain is still misty and he needs to lie down. He’s still reeling from the after-effects of his freight train of an orgasm where he stands even now. And you were just touching him through his jeans.

“If you think this feels good now, just wait until you’re inside me,” you purred to him in a breathless promise. He understands, now, that just might kill him.

It’s lame. He’s lame. And he thinks he might be in love.

You don’t seem to be as affected by it as he is. Though, to be fair, you’re not the one that just came in their underwear. Either way, you’re able to avoid the bubble of bliss that settles over the trailer like a warm and weighted blanket. You evade it all with a level of finesse that makes his chest swirl with an emotion that he can’t name but he can feel. Like, if he could reach through his ribcage right now, he could physically pull it out of him and hold it in his hands, it’s so damn palpable.

You’re standing at his decade-old washing machine with his cum-stained underwear and black ripped jeans in a wadded ball at your hip. You lift the weighty metal lid and throw the dirty clothes inside, then rise on the tips of your toes to reach for the detergent and fabric softener on the cluttered shelf about your head.

The way you float through the trailer is gut-wrenchingly admirable. It's almost like you’ve lived here as long as Eddie has.

You’re still fully dressed, alarmingly put together, and not at all as jostled-looking as the boy across the living room. Your sweater isn’t wrinkled, your skirt is pulled down from where it had ridden up, and your boots are still on and squeaky clean. You look like a professional and move like one too, totally unfazed by it all, as though making men come so hard they see stars is just a pastime for you.

It almost makes him jealous, knowing your magic has touched other, undoubtedly unworthy guys. But he can’t find it in himself to get angry or bitterly self-conscious. You’re in his trailer now, not out with some other asshole, and you’re washing his fucking clothes.

It makes Eddie feel like you’re his already. A primal sort of possessiveness wells deep within him. He wants to protect this moment and keep it to himself forever.

You peek subtly over at him while sprinkling in the washing powder, pretending to scratch your jaw with your shoulder under the guise of catching a glimpse of the boy behind you. He’d put up quite the fight about you laundering his dirty bottoms upon realizing how serious you were, but he’s quiet now.

“I made the mess, Munson,” you’d argued. “Let me clean it up.”

That shut him up real quick.

You find that he looks more comfortable now. He’s out of the usual leather jacket and tight pants duo that most people rarely see him out of — it feels like a privilege to observe him like this. He’s traded them for a pair of loose red sleep pants spotted with barely-there stains and tiny holes like he’s had them for ages. They probably used to be Wayne's.

His rings stay on, however, and the Def Leppard tee too.

You can see more of his body without the thick jacket to shield him. The way the fabric clings to his upper half, you can just make out the subtle lines of his torso, the tightness of his chest, and the soft pudge of his stomach.

He looks less like he’s trying, but he’s somehow even prettier this way.

His chocolate eyes glimmer beneath the dim light of the living room while his hands fidget something fierce at his sides. It’s like he’s itching to do something with them but has convinced himself not to.

You wonder if it’s the urge to touch you that he’s fighting.

You wish that he wouldn’t.

Shutting the heavy lid, you press the faded green button on the start pad. The sound of water trickling from the top goes muffled. The machine starts to shake, wobbling back and forth with age and fatigue alike.

Once you spin on your heel to face the boy, you’re able to catch a much better look at him. And the way he suddenly and oh, so casually flits his gaze to the ceiling in an effort to pretend like he wasn’t just staring at you.

His hair is wild and his eyes are tired. He probably just wants to sleep.

You begin to fear that you’ve overstayed your welcome. This wasn’t what this was supposed to be, after all. Some heavy petting was expected, of course, but certainly not of this magnitude. Eddie was prepared to cop a feel, not watch you while you wash his fucking clothes.

So out of worry that you’ve turned this — whatever this was — into something that it wasn’t, it becomes your mission to ease the tension you’d singlehandedly crafted.

“Oh. You must be tired, huh?” you question sympathetically with an awkward hand on the back of your neck. “It is getting pretty late. Maybe I should… I should go—”

“What? No! You don’t— You don’t have to go!” Eddie is quick to interject with the rapid shake of his head. Fluffy curls shake around the frame of his face. His eyes go wide. It makes your heart sing.

But now he’s the scared one. Fearing he’s come off as overzealous, he backtracks with a shrug. “I mean… If you want to. But I… I don’t really…”

“You don’t really what?” you press once he trails off, brows raised ro your hairline and a smile teasing at the corners of your lips.

“I don’t know… I— I guess I’d just... I’d kinda like it if you stayed.”

The revelation seems to shock you, delightfully so, because you’re lighting up again like a christmas tree. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods, suddenly shy. His chin falls to his chest, and he takes to gazing at you with a sparkling gaze through his lashes as he confesses: “I didn’t… I didn’t even get to touch you.”

His eyes squeeze shut and his face scrunches as he silently cringes at how lame the words sound spilling from his mouth.

“Oh, right. The deal,” you lilt, missing his unstated point and forming your own. You laugh a little at yourself. “That’s literally why I came over in the first place. Sorry. I guess I got a little… carried away.”

“Screw the deal,” he blurts. “I just wanna make you feel good.”

It’s the first thing he’s said to you all night where his voice isn’t shaking. His sudden confidence seems to take you both by surprise.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to hide your sheepish grin and failing. With your hands clasped behind your back — inadvertently jutting out your chest and the twinkling pendant resting upon it — you take slow steps towards him, like a tiger sneaking up on its prey.

Except you’re not exactly being sly about it.

Eddie’s just not running away.

You manage to look so innocent still, all flushed out and smiling at him. “You don’t have to touch me to make me feel good, Eds.”

His brows furrow. “…I don’t?”

“I just like spending time with you,” you shrug shyly when you finally reach the boy. He remains frozen by the television that’s gone static again, the screen all fuzzy in time with the misty haze you’ve put his brain into.

You wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders, pressing your warmth so intently against his body, like you would melt with him if the rules of the universe allowed it.

Eddie swallows thickly at the foreign feeling of having someone so close. His gaze falls to your quirked-up lips. He wonders if it’d be too inappropriate to kiss you now — if he still needs to ask or if the two of you crossed that bridge an orgasm and a half ago.

You notice his unabashed, button-eyed stare and grin at him with a similar brazenness.

“You don’t have to, Eddie. Promise,” you assure with a softness that was previously unfamiliar to him before now. “That’s not why I did that — you know, so you had to return the favor or whatever.”

“No, I know. I just…” he trails off for a moment and darts his tongue out to wet his chapped lips. “I’d really like to make you feel good. If you’ll let me.”

You shake your head at him. It’s not a rejection, though, just an expression of disbelief at how he hasn’t gotten the hint yet. So you just come right out and tell him. “I’d let you do anything to me, Eds.”

He swears, it’s that fucking scene from Fast Times all over again, the same one that got him into this mess. Eddie’s starting to convince himself that this is all just one big fever dream and that you’re his personal Phoebe Cates sent to haunt him in a fantasy far too heavenly to be real.

He’s the Hawkins freakshow, for chrissakes — since when does the town’s local weirdo get to dabble in such simple pleasures?

“Well, what do you wanna do?” you ask him like you’re the timid one. Like you didn’t just make him bust in his pants like a teenager half an hour ago.

He can’t tell if you’re playing coy to get him riled up or if your coquettish nature is just a symptom of your nervousness. It’s hot either way, he concludes, but asking him for guidance is a mistake you don’t even realize you’re making.

His hands falter where they rest on your hips — fidgeting, squeezing, and fidgeting some more.

“I, uh… I want you to…” he does his best to keep his gaze locked with yours, egged on by the intrigued glint in your eye, but it’s a difficult feat. “…to rub yourself, you know, against my— my thigh… If you want.”

He feels like an idiot, the total opposite of cool and mysterious and sexy. His cheeks burn cherry with embarrassment. You smile sweetly up at him, anyway. It both soothes and sends a sick feeling of anticipation swimming in his stomach.

Eddie’s always so sweet with you. Always asking to do something, but only if you want to. He’s all shy and finicky, like he’s nervous you might turn him down, though you’ve only ever said yes to him.

It makes you wonder if he’s ever been dominant with a girl before or if this is the first time someone’s asked him what he wants to do in bed.

It sends a foreign flash of pride in your chest.

“Okay. How about this?” You concede with a grin. Your hands fall from his shoulders and move down his torso, smooth like drops of water. You rest your palms on his hips as you walk him slowly backward. “I’ll ride your thigh, and you can play with my tits. You know, so you don’t get bored.”

The back of his knees meet the couch and he falls lamely onto the cushions. He blinks up at you. “Don’t get… bored?”

Who the fuck is getting bored when there’s a woman getting off on their lap? he actually wants to say but isn’t quite brave enough to.

“Yeah,” you shrug like the answer is obvious. “Most guys have a hard time, I don’t know, being present if it isn’t about them.”

“Well, most guys are stupid.”

“You’re definitely right,” you scoff out a laugh, though it’s mostly muffled when you strip your sweater up and over your head.

The motions come easy to you. There’s an obvious lack in overthinking that Eddie notices right away because it’s the thing that’s been plaguing him all night. He’s both envious and fascinated, but more so mesmerized by the sight that is slow to unfold before him.

Your bra isn’t anything special, just a white cotton number with a cute little bow sitting neatly between your tits. It’s a size or more too small for you, as though you’ve had it for quite some time. The tops of your breasts bulge from the cup. Eddie so desperately wants to sink his teeth into the skin there.

“How could anyone get bored of you…?” he mumbles softly to himself, not realizing that he’s actually said the words out loud until you’re answering him.

“I don’t know,” you respond with a breathless chuckle, tossing your top onto the couch beside him with a dull thud. “You should try asking my ex-boyfriend.”

“Fuck that guy,” Eddie blurts without thinking.

You laugh again. It’s comforting. Like a familiar face in a sea of strangers or a warm hug when you’re freezing. You’re smiling when you finally settle over his lap, your thighs straddling over one of his own. You were just here minutes ago, but it still feels so new.

Eddie wants you here, against him, forever.

“You don’t even know him.”

“Well, he let you go,” he reasons as he places two unconfident and shaking hands along the bare skin of your thighs where your skirt had ridden up. “So he’s gotta be a little bit of an asshole.”

“How about a lot a bit?” you playfully correct with a faltering smile and wandering eyes that flit to the ceiling.

You’re certain Eddie hasn’t noticed your momentary, faraway blip at mention of a boy who made your life a living hell. But when your gaze meets his again, you find a pair of bushy brows furrowed in concern beneath his curly bangs. His rich, chocolate cake colored eyes are coated with concern.

In an effort to deflect from the silence and the brief flicker of following awkwardness, you grip the boy’s shoulders and reach for a kiss.

He isn’t quite swayed, however. Not even when your bottom lips brush together when he asks you: “…What’d he do?”

“Let’s maybe not talk about my ex-boyfriend when I’m trying to kiss you, okay?” you advise without decreasing the proximity. Your mouth still chases his, desperate in more ways than one.

“Okay—”

You’re kissing him as soon as the word tumbles from his lips. You lick into him without warning and he huffs a pitiful moan. You feel the exhale of it against your cupid’s bow.

It’s sloppy, all tongue and teeth, like two teenagers trying to figure out how to kiss each other. That’s what it feels like, anyway. You explore his mouth like it’s undiscovered territory, like he’s all yours to claim.

He lets you.

His head falls back to the edge of the couch, mouth obediently agape for you, as you rut the rough pad of your tongue against his own. You part from him only to suck at his kiss-bitten bottom lip, and you pull away from him so achingly slow just to watch the rosy plush pop back into place.

You smile like you’ve won some sort of prize with him. Your eyes are sparkling and heavy with desire.

Eddie fidgets beneath you at the unfamiliarity of it all. It makes his chest so warm and fuzzy that his heart begins to ache. He can’t tell if he wants to keep looking or close his eyes to hide from it. So he just kisses you — or rather, tries to.

You’re pulling back with a mischievous sort of grin before your lips can meet.

The sound of his discontent comes out in a muffled whine trapped in his throat. A low and yearning sound that makes your smile widen.

Unamused by your teasing, Eddie huffs a rather dramatic sigh. He grips your hips with ring-clad fingers and drags you further against him. The fabric of his pants creates a rough friction against your cotton underwear and you feel it all against your clit.

Before you have the chance to moan, Eddie’s lips are already back on yours.

His touch is more confident now, not just in the way he keeps you pressed against his thigh, but in the way he kisses you. You’re no longer in control as he shoves his tongue in your mouth, perhaps more aggressively than intended. He roams the ridges of the roof of your mouth and the soft, irregular-patterned pad of your tongue like it’s an undiscovered island. And you let him — you beg him without words, and only in hushed and breathy moans.

He trails wet kisses down your chin and your jaw to your neck, leaving the warmed skin glistening with his spit and cooling when he leaves it.

While he mouths desperately at your collarbone, just beside the strap of your bra, his hands rise rise rise — fingers tickling below the hem of your skirt before traveling up to your hips. Eddie squeezes softly at the skin when he reaches your naked waist.

You laugh with merriment when he does. He can feel the rapid rise and fall of your shoulders from where he rests against you. A soft smile tugs at his lips. You can feel the contortion of it against your skin.

He stops kissing you when his fingers try their hand at unlatching your bra. You’re not sure he even realizes it. He loses the ability to multitask when he finds that it’s a harder feat than he thought.

You can imagine the look of concentration on his face, brows furrowed and tongue poking out of his mouth, as he fidgets with the clasp. It makes you smile to yourself.

“Need help?”

“No, I— I got it,” he declines quickly. “—Shit. Was this made by a fucking rocket scientist or some shit?”

You giggle again. It feels like being bathed in rays of sunlight, adding heat to his already burning cheeks.

“Have you never taken off a girl’s bra before?”

You don’t sound like you’re teasing him. You just sound curious and kinda of shocked at his struggling. It makes him tense anyway.

His virginity makes him feel like Spiderman. Like he’s got this alter ego that he can’t possibly reveal to you because it might change everything. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to — yet — because his hands inadvertently freeze and the clasp behind your back clicks lowly when it unfastens.

He’s able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Your bra eases its constriction on your chest. The tight straps loosen at your shoulders, and your fingers tug them until they're slipping down your arms.

You don’t even look at him at first, not the slightest glance to gauge his reaction. He wonders if it’s intentional — your nonchalance — as you pay more attention to the bra you toss off to the side than to the boy suddenly rigid beneath you.

And when you do finally look back at him, you can’t quite measure the expression on his face. His eyes are heavy and focused on your tits, his face lax and void of any readable emotion.

He doesn’t say anything, not for a while — or at all — and you don’t know what to make of it. It’s the first time you’ve shown your tits to a guy who wasn’t squeezing them right way (and far too roughly) or biting at them so hard they leave teeth marks.

You hate that shit. But it might be preferable to no reaction at all.

Without thinking, you bring your hands to your chest, crossing your arms over your breasts as embarrassment burns against your cheeks.

You make a sad joke of it, a measly “Sorry, if I didn’t, you know, live up to expectations—”

Eddie’s quick to stop you then. It’s like life returns to him as he reanimates, his hands suddenly springing from your waist to your wrists.

But, again, he doesn’t speak. He just holds onto your hands and looks up at you. His gaze swims with something you have difficulty placing — it’s a little sad like yearning, but wild with craving. Lust.

His cinnamon eyes blink up at you and tell you everything without saying a word.

You breathe a sigh of relief through your nose as you relax against him. You let him pull your arms back down to your sides, leaving your tits on display for him once more.

This time when you burn hot, it’s of the fire he’s lit in your chest.

“Do you like them?” you wonder meekly.

Eddie nods. He eyes your breasts like a predator would with its prey. His mouth falls softly agape, looking desperate to be kissed — filled.

“Can... Can I— Can I…” he stammers like a child, though he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. He just wants to hold you, to taste you, and you’re so goddamn close.

You respond with an affirmative shake of your head. A soft smile hints at the edges of your lips while you relish in your first time rendering a man speechless with your tits. You watch with glittering eyes as his shaking, terribly unsure hands raise to touch you.

He merely grazes the top of your chest with his fingertips in a featherlight touch that sends a shiver down your spine. He fondles you so gently, too timid yet to touch you where you want him most. Like he’s teasing you.

He isn’t, of course, he’s just feeling out the new terrain — literally — but you don’t know that. You just think he’s being playful with you. So you take his hands in yours and press your palms against his knuckles, your fingers against his ring-clad ones, and flatten him against you.

The metal bumps lightly when it meets your pebbled nipple. Chill bumps erupt on the surrounding skin when it does.

His moan entwines with yours.

Eddie grows more confident with his fleeting touches. He squeezes your breasts softly in his palms, more gentle than anyone’s ever been with you, and takes a moment to marvel how warm they feel in his hold.

No one’s ever taken the time to admire any part of you like this before.

When he starts playing with your nipples that stand desperately at attention and ache to be touched, he observes how you react to his touch. You twitch against him when he presses against them, moan when he tweaks the hardened buds between his thumb and forefinger, and throw your head back with bliss when he pinches them.

It’s not for his own pleasure — though he is desperately, desperately turned on — but he likes seeing how he makes you feel so he can do more of the thing you seem to like the most.

He’s attentive in a way you’ve never seen before.

And though every single touch of his is experimental, it feels good, like lightning strikes to your pussy.

Your underwear is more than damp now, more than it already was when you were just feeling him up. It leaves your vision practically blurry with desire. So turned on you’re dumb, there is no thought in your head other than Eddie Eddie Eddie. You want to feel him everywhere.

“That feel good?” he wonders like you aren’t moaning above him without hardly being touched.

“Mm-hmm,” you sigh with a nod. You tilt your head back down to face him and release your bottom lip from where it was caged between your teeth. “You can put your mouth on them if you want.”

And it’s not like it’s the craziest question in the world. You’re just giving him consent to touch you further, which is more than most asshole men in Hawkins wait for, but it drives Eddie absolutely wild.

He’s seen it in porn a million times over, fantasized incessantly about how a girl might feel against his tongue, his teeth. But the moment is here now, sitting right in front of him — just when he thought he might die a virgin — and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“My… My mouth?”

You nod again, quick to reassure him. “Only if you want to. You don’t have to—”

“Wanna do everything with you,” he interjects without realizing.

“Everything?” you smirk with raised brows and bright eyes. “Think you can handle that, Munson?”

Fuck no, I can barely take this, he thinks to himself.

But instead of saying all that, he just shrugs. “Got to.”

His breath leaves him in a shaky exhale that you can feel against your warmed skin as he nears you. He presses a tentative, too sweet kiss to your sternum and your eyes flutter shut. Not out of pleasure maybe, but from the sheer softness of his touch.

It feels illegal to be handled so gently, like you were some endangered species that he had to be careful with. There’s a lingering sense of undeserving that you have to bat away.

He’s reserved with his kisses at first, only brushing his lips against your tits like he’s trying to commit how they feel to his memory. You only wish he’d do more, leave you whining and gleaming with his spit.

But there’s something spellbinding about his meticulous touches, like he’s trying to wind you up until you snap. You like that.

So be it, if you have to suffer through some teasing, as long as he’ll break you after.

His tongue darts at against your sternum and you moan.

It was accidental, of course, he was just wetting his drying lips, but you seemed to enjoy it. So he keeps doing it.

He lets himself become more assured in the way he touches you, because you seem to like everything he’s done so far. And when his kisses grow wetter and deeper and more passionate, you start to buck your hips against his lap.

He’s not even completely sure if you realize it.

Unthinking, he turns his head and takes your nipple into his mouth. It was instinctual more than anything, it just felt right to touch you there. It’s easy to stop overthinking when you moan louder for him.

He’s got his right hand kneading the skin of your right breast while he mouths at the left one, flicking his tongue against the delicate bud while it’s sucked between his teeth. Your cry is breathy, ethereal, heavenly. Your hands dart to his head, entwining your fingers with the curly strands as you hold him to you.

“God, you're so sweet,” he practically moans against you, reveling in your taste and the feeling of your clothed pussy against his thigh. “And sensitive— god, that’s so fucking hot.”

“Eddie,” you moan when he licks you with a flattened tongue.

He stops for a moment, looking at you with wide, twinkling, innocent fucking eyes, like he’s not effectively ruining you. “Is this good?”

“’S fucking perfect, Eds,” you manage to assure him, though it’s hard to form thoughts of any kind, much less words.

You’re still so wildly turned on from getting Eddie to come in his jeans. It’s got you so embarrassingly close to coming, but the boy mouthing at your sensitive tits doesn’t seem to care, so you don’t either.

He keeps his focus on your chest, switching between squeezing one and licking the other. The combination of his rings rutting against your nipple and his tongue playing wetly with it is a wild one.

All you can feel is Eddie. All you can think about is Eddie.

He’s got you chasing the bleary haze of pleasure against his thigh, moaning at the deviously sweet friction of your cotton panties against your clit.

“God, I’m so wet for you right now,” you moan into his ear, words slurred and quiet.

You’re not trying to drive him crazy, you just are.

He exhales deeply through his nose with his mouth still on you. His breath fans against you and makes you shiver. He grips you hips and pulls you closer to him, desperate to have you nearer like your tit isn’t in his mouth and you’re not getting off on his thigh.

You’re further against his lap now, practically sitting on his hip, and the position change puts all the more pressure on your clit. When you buck your hips against him now, that’s where you feel it all — the pleasure is so concentrated on the cotton-clad, terribly delicate button that it makes you whimper with every pass.

Eddie shows no mercy.

His large hands start to control your movements, squeezing your hip on the up stroke and pressing you harder against him, before gently releasing his hold on the down stroke.

“Eddie,” you cry fragilely.

He pulls off of your tit with a pop. “Yeah?”

“‘M so close.”

“…Okay,” he nods like an idiot, staring up at you with a gaping gaze.

Fortunately for him, your eyes are squeezed shut in bliss, so you don’t see the the brief flare of panic that flashes over his features. He tries to remember what guys do in porn when their girls start getting close.

They talk them through it, right? the stream of consciousness in his head tells him.

But here’s the thing about Eddie — the boy can’t talk to save his life. He’s good at telling off Jason Carver (because fuck that guy) and he’s even better when he’s campaigning, but put a pretty girl in front of him and the dumb facade of the snarky metalhead boy goes out the window. He’s got no earthly idea of what to say now.

So, in running theme of the entirety of this night, he just says what feels right to say.

“Can you come for me?” he asks you, sounding somehow more desperate for your pleasure than you are. “Please?”

You moan louder, hold him closer, hump his thigh him faster.

He wonders, then, if dirty talking is your thing. He makes a mental note to get better at it for you for next time — if there is a next time, the voice in his head reminds him bitterly.

He remembers that this might be the only time he’ll ever get to touch you. He fears that you’ll still think he only wanted to do this because of some stupid deal you made and never allow him the chance to prove that you’re more than just his favorite customer.

But he figures if this is the last time he gets to have you — if he can make you come so hard that you see stars, and if he can commit this whole night to memory — he’ll be the happiest dumbass alive.

“Can you come while I suck on your tits?” Eddie continues to plea before scratching your spit-soaked nipple with his teeth. Your cry racks through your chest. “—You sound so damn pretty when I do it.”

“Yes,” you moan with your head tilted towards the ceiling. He can’t tell if it’s an affirmative answer to his question or a chant of a mindless prayer. “Yes, yes, yes—”

His touch is all consuming, ardent in a way you haven’t felt before. You don’t have to work at your orgasm for it to rise within you, don’t have to think to climb the peaks of pleasure. It’s quite the opposite, really.

You don’t have to work for it, because it’s chasing you. You don’t have to think about anything, because you can’t.

There’s a fire welling within you that leaves you momentarily frightened because you haven’t felt anything like it before.

He’s long past winding you up, you fear, now he wants you to snap.

So you do.

With one final pass up his lap, you still against him, though your legs keep shaking something fierce around his thigh.

Your mouth falls open in a moan, though it doesn’t quite leave that way — you’re silent for a moment, before a meek and fragile cry escapes your throat and fills the empty trailer.

Your hips twitch in time with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Eddie stays with his mouth against your chest and grumbles a moan when he can feel the subtle throbbing of your clit against his thigh.

He doesn’t have much choice in the matter, anyway, because you keep him firmly locked to your tits with your hands in his hair while you come down from your high. He doesn’t much care either. He’d happily drool on your tits every day of the week if you’d let him.

The post-orgasm haze is slow to fade.

You’re buzzing at his touch, feeling fuzzy like you’re stranded on some white, puffy cloud. You just feel Eddie — his hands, his mouth — and that’s when you realize the hold you’ve got on him.

You’re quick to unravel your fingers from his curls and sputter out an apology even in your bleary haze. “Oh— shit— I’m so sorry—”

“No, it’s okay. I liked it,” Eddie assures as you pet his wild head. He pulls back and smiles sloppily at you with pink lips all swollen from his kisses and shiny with his spit.

“Oh?” you hum with a similar lazy grin. “You like having your hair pulled, huh? That’s good to know.”

His eyes fall back to your chest. Your tits glisten with his spit, rising and falling with each of your heavy breaths and catching the light in different places — the red lovebites he’d sucked onto your supple skin, the hardened and raw buds of your nipples.

It makes him feel like he’s claimed you in some way and the thought has him growing hard again.

He shifts his hips beneath you in attempts to soothe the ache blossoming between his legs. You twitch and breathe out an almost inaudible moan when his thigh brushes against your still sensitive pussy.

“Sorry,” he apologizes meekly, though he doesn’t really mean it. He wants to do it again, wants to make you come again, and keep making you come until you can’t decide if you’re crying for him to stop or to keep going.

He can feels your damp pussy on his leg. He wonders if you’ve stained his pants. He hopes you’ve stained his pants.

It makes his head spin to imagine what your panties must look like right now, all sticky with a wet spot in the center of the dainty cotton, your pussy drenched and gooey with your come. His mouth waters with the sudden desire to taste you.

“I made the mess,” he’d tease you with your words from earlier, slipping your drenched panties to the side and sliding a finger between your velvety lips. “Let me clean it up.”

Instead, he just apologizes like an idiot and lets you slip away.

“’S okay,” you breathe with your head tilted backward, still on the come down.

“Was that… Was that good for you?”

“Eddie,” you huff in a scold. “I’d tell you if it wasn’t.”

“…Would you?” he presses.

“Probably not,” you concede with a shrug and then look at him with a playful smile. “But it was good. It was fucking amazing. I mean, I can’t even feel my legs right now, so… You should really work on your confidence when it comes to the whole sex thing.”

He sighs. “You’re probably right.”

“Maybe I can help you...”

“Please,” he begs in a whisper and happily accepts the kiss you press to his lips. It’s slower than before, less messy but no less passionate. It’s soft and sickly sweet, a series of small pecks that makes his heart sing. He never thought someone would be this gentle with him.

The washer beeps a grating and daunting beep, beep, beep that Eddie curses because it puts an end to the sweet moment. You rise from his lap with one last, lingering kiss, and pull the hem of your skirt back down your thighs.

Still in your soaked panties and totally topless, you waltz from his living room and into the kitchen.

You bend over to retrieve his clean pants from the washing machine, momentarily flashing the supple round of your ass, before throwing the clothes into the drier. The thing rumbles lowly in the quiet and clanks every time it beats against the washer.

Eddie watches from afar, his head lolled against the back of the couch. This must be a dream, he figures, because there’s no way you’re real.

There’s an angel in his trailer, washing his cum-stained jeans after getting off on his thigh, and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve it.

“You’re good to get them out of the drier, yeah?”

“Yeah, I think I can do that,” he answers with a breathy laugh. “But if it means you have to stay for another hour, then no, I’ve never worked a drier in my life.”

Your smile is a sheepish one that you bite to conceal as you waltz back over to him.

You want to stay, you do, but it’s late. And his uncle is bound to come home from work in the following hours. You want Eddie when you’re allowed take your time with him, when there’s no threat that someone might catch you — no risk, no responsibilities, just two people who want to make each other feel good.

If he even wants that, you think to yourself.

The negative self-talk always seems to arrive after you’ve fucked. Most people get a taste of you and don’t go back for seconds. Why would he be any different?

You tug your sweater back over your head. Without your bra to hide you, he can see the perfect outline of your nipples through the soft material. Eddie tries not to stare.

He fails.

“I gotta get home,” you tell him as you shove your arms through the sleeves. “I’ve got a cat to feed and… everything.”

“Oh. Right… Okay.”

He sounds both disappointed and dismissive, like he wants you to stay but doesn’t care enough to make you.

You might’ve, if he’d asked, Bowie would surely survive until an extra early breakfast. You wouldn’t even need to have sex or makeout or anything, you’re all too happy just to spend time with Eddie in this rundown trailer on the wrong side of town.

But he doesn’t ask. And he won’t.

Because he doesn’t know any of that.

As far as he’s concerned, you’re in a rush to get home because you don’t want to be here anymore. Watching you get dressed, Eddie’s starting to feel like this was just a one time thing. He came, he returned the favor, and now he’s only got the memory of you twitching against him while you orgasmed with your tits in his mouth.

He grieves the moment like he’s lost something real and starts to let you leave without saying a goddamn word.

You’re standing at the screen door with your hand on the knob when he notices your pearl-colored bra strewn on the floor.

“Hey! You, uh, you left, your um…” he can’t seem to say the words as he stands with it in his hand, motioning for you to take it. You don’t make an effort to retrieve it, however, as you smile tiredly at him from across the living room.

“I kinda did that on purpose,” you confess bashfully. “So I could have an excuse to come back...”

Eddie glows red with your admission. “Oh. Well. You don’t— You don’t need an excuse to come over.”

“No?”

“No. You can just… pop in, you know, whenever,” he shrugs sheepishly, with his head to his chest and his syrup-y eyes peering through his lashes. “To smoke or… to hang out… or...”

“Fuck?” you finish with a half-sincere laugh.

Eddie shrugs again. “Whatever you wanna do.”

“You said we were gonna do everything, remember?” you remind with a teasing grin and eyes that glimmer with mischief. Eddie nods quickly, all bright and excited like a ball of sunshine and your smile grows. “I’m looking forward to it, then.”

That’s how you leave him, half-hard with the promise of more.

Eddie Munson is so in over his head he can’t breathe. He isn’t completely sure if he wants to. He’s all too happy to drown in you. And It’s scary, a fun kind of scary, like going on a rollercoaster.

He’s never felt this way before and doesn’t want it to stop.

Fuck, he can’t wait to do everything with you.

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #virgin!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #st oneshots <3 #published by bug

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graceylacey · 1 month

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is laios touden happy?

I keep coming back to the question that a lot of Dungeon Meshi (manga) fans seem to be asking: is Laios happy at the end?

My two cents on this is: well, yeah. He actually is.

He’s sacrificed a lot, it seems, far more than all of the other characters. He’s the driving force behind the reason they survived to save Falin - through eating the monsters. Only in the end, he’s not able to explore dungeons, be near monsters (RIP his special interest) or even eat without feeling 30% empty. It’s a real tough bargain.

But that’s the whole point. And that loss makes the story so much more impactful to me.

When talking with the Winged Lion at the end, Laios’ true desires appear. But we can see through Mithrun, Thistle and Marcille’s time as Dungeon Lords that The Winged Lion seems to expose really selfish wishes that, whilst having good intent, don’t end up benefiting others the way the Dungeon Lord wants.

Obvious as it may seem, Laios’ true main wish IS to save Falin over the course of his storyline. It’s what drives him despite having other, arguably impossible, desires that he longs for.

Even though Laios wishes to become a monster, this desire has never overtaken his motivation in any other part of the narrative.

Yes, he loses a lot. But he’s gained Falin.

It seems obvious, but that’s the key to why I think this is a good ending for him. It’s about sacrifice. Itsusumi is a great microcosm for this - you have to do things you don’t want to do, eat things you don’t want to eat. You also have to give up things you don’t want to in order to gain more.

The similarity between Dungeon Meshi and Fullmetal Alchemist (manga) is wonderful to me. Both stories explore the giving and taking of life and the goals of our lives.

At FMA’s conclusion, Ed sacrifices his ability to do alchemy; the reason the whole story started. It cost him and Al so much, but also helped them recover what they’d lost and literally save the world (are we starting to see the similarity?). Whenever I reread FMA, it’s sometimes hard watching Ed give up all his talent and everything he worked towards. What does he have without it? But for him, in that moment, it’s not such a difficult price to pay to get his brother back.

Maybe Laios is not aware of how much he would lose when he defeats the Winged Lion. But we do know he wants his friends and Falin to be saved, even if he dies. But that’s the thing! Both he and Falin are prepared to die to save their loved ones, but what about being prepared to LIVE to save their loved ones?

In our lives, we won’t often be sacrificing our lives for people, but we might be faced with a choice to give up things we love for people we love. Losing his life would be the easy way out (a great example of this is through Mithrun. It takes conscious effort to live. It seems so much simpler to die). Losing your dreams is hard, but that’s what it ended up costing for the safety of not just Laios’ friends but the world. He made that choice, now he must live with it. Even if he’s not fully happy at the end of the narrative, he still can be. You can be happy without having everything you desperately desire. That’s Dungeon Meshi.

Dungeon Meshi’s theme of neurodivergence fit into this really well. Personally, I think Laios is the perfect person to become King, possibly because he doesn’t think he should be. We know it’s not necessarily what he wants to do most. Heck, we know he doesn’t even like people that much and they don’t even seem to like him. But that’s what will make him the perfect candidate. Unlike others, he doesn’t have some high and mighty vision of becoming revolutionary at the end, nor does he have misconceptions about his abilities. He is genuinely righteous and humble, whilst having his flaws.

Laios knows what it’s like to feel different, outcasted by the world. But despite being awkward, strange, having weird interests and an inability to read social cues; people that once hated him ultimately end up having his back. There are bound to be others like him in his world (and ours), who don’t feel like they belong within humanity. People that would want a benevolent leader who genuinely cares and is enthused about things that don’t fit the norm because he doesn’t either.

It’s not his dream job but I believe he will eventually settle into it. We see this in the extra chapter where he willingly gives up his sword. That hit me hard. It felt a bit like a betrayal, like he was giving up who he was and everything he had worked for. But maybe it just shows that it’s okay that he couldn’t achieve all his desires. At least now Falin can achieve hers, and wasn’t that his fear for so long? That she would be lost and alone without him?

But now, because of Laios, Falin has the ability to choose her own path. She can choose make to leave as he once left her without the fear and guilt that Laois felt with his own departure. It shows both of them that it’s okay for them to take separate paths. They can grow and change and love each other from wherever they are. That protection, that survival and that connection between people is at the heart of Dungeon Meshi to me.

Both Laios and Falin choose to live. When Laios eats the Winged Lion’s appetite and Falin returns it’s down to their own decision. The choice to eat; the choice to experience life the way it was intended, with all its thorns. When they eat the monstrous parts of themselves they choose to be human, they choose the consequences of life, they choose to change and to go forwards. They are two sides of the same coin.

It seems only just that after all Laios has been through and after all we’ve seen him do, he should be allowed a perfect happy ending. But that’s just not Dungeon Meshi, is it?

There will always be sacrifices. Dungeon Meshi is not just about accepting life and death, but also accepting the possibility that you may not achieve everything you want, that things will not always go to plan but that you can always achieve other things despite this.

Laios has made his choice to become King. Just like the choice to eat, it’s another part of life and of moving forward. Think of all the good he could do. I think he can be happy. That’s life.

#dungeon meshi #laios touden #falin touden #delicious in dungeon #mithrun #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #first post

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strniohoeee · 1 month

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Hidden In The Shadows Pt. 4(Final Chapter)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Waking up dazed and confused, Y/N is taken by surprise when certain events seem to take place. Unsure of how to feel Y/N battles with the decisions of staying or leaving for good

Warnings⚠️: SADDDDD NGL😭, but like not really but also IDK??? I wasn’t sure how to end this installment, but I know I didn’t want to make it some fairytale type shit LMAOOO

Songs for imagine: Blue Moon- Elvis Presley, Bang Bang(My Baby Shot Me Down)- Nancy Sinatra

Tags: @lacysturniolo @gamermattsgf @nicksmainbitch @s7urnfilms @sturnssmuts @vickyzloserz @mayhem-72 @sturn3g1rl @mattsturniolowifey

Blue Moon

You knew just what I was there for

You heard me saying a prayer for

Someone I really could care for

If my mother could see the position I was currently in she’d be so ashamed….disappointed even. She’s always taught me stranger danger and leave it to her daughter to sleep with the stranger and the danger….

I can’t remember much, but I can remember the emptiness….the cold darkness of my mind. My physical body slumps somewhere while my conscious fights to wake me up.

Who knows what’s going on in the real world right now. I could be tied to a pole and slow roasting like a pig, or maybe even locked in someone’s dungeon. Or what if this is all some crazy bad dream and I’m actually back home in my comfortable bed….

My thoughts were slowly coming to a halt as my eyes began to open slowly. Squinting at the sensitivity they were facing I groaned and cleared my throat. The throbbing in my head and the burning of my nose leads me to believe Matt used an awful lot of chloroform to knock me out. He’s lucky he didn’t kill because I’d haunt his ass.

Opening my eyes fully I realized I was tied to a chair in a basement? Oh actually my basement? Looking around I realized I was in the same place I was when Matt caught me.

I began to move against the ropes, pulling and yanking as I groaned in anger.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you” I heard from behind me, causing me to stop and jump

“Who’s there” I asked trying to look over my shoulders

“Why’d you have to be so nosy? Making everything so complicated” I heard him say

“You fucking psycho….Matt let me fucking go” I said pulling harder against the ropes

“You see I just can’t do that” he replied to me walking from behind me

“You fucking weirdo….oh god….oh my god I had sex with a fucking psycho… please just kill me that would be less embarrassing” I say shaking my head and tapping my feet on the ground

Coming from behind me Matt stands in front of me. Except he doesn’t look angry…. He looked concerned and scared. Which made me a bit scared and anxious

“What are you doing?” I yelled at him yanking myself around

“sit still” he said in a firm whisper

“Fuck off” I said in annoyance to him

Grabbing my face to have me look at him I attempted to yank away.

“GET OFF OF ME” I yelled at him trying to bite him

“STOP IT AND LOOK AT ME” he says with wide eyes

Letting go of me he steps back. Looking over his shoulder he turns back to me. Placing his pointer finger over his mouth he motions for me to stay quiet and then with the same finger points behind himself and then points to his ear.

“Listen here darling you’re going to do as I say” he says sternly and loudly

Digging in his back pocket he takes out a piece of paper, unraveling it he faces it to me so I can read.

They’ve been on you this whole time and they used me to get to you. At first I was going to do it, but I like you too much. They’ve been in your house multiple times and have found all the information you have on this town. I’m so sorry for who I am and what my family has done; but I don’t want to hurt you. They are having me watch you while they put all your stuff in your car. They’re planning to kill you and make it seem like it was an accident. However I won’t let that happen. I’m going to get you out of here and I have a plan! But they don’t fully trust me and are listening to me and watching my every move. So please just do as I say. I’m sorry.

After reading the note a tear slipped down my face and I looked up at Matt. His eyes softened and his lip trembled, swallowing thickly he nodded his head. Folding the paper back up he put it in his back pocket.

“You will listen to me and me only! Make any stupid moves and I will kill you myself” he says loudly with a sincere look

“Go to hell” I spat at him

Listening above he heard the two men walk away from the basement door. Ushering over to me quickly he got down and began to whisper

“Okay so here’s the plan. There is only one way out and only one chance to get this right so please do as I say. They’re loading up your car and they’re planning on having me drive you to a secluded area a little outside of this town. They want me to set your car on fire” he says shaking his head and looking down

“What?” I say shocked and beginning to panic

“My getaway car was planted in the area and they will be checking tonight to see that your car is completely burnt. However it won’t be there because you’ll be on your way back to Vegas. You’ll be out of their hair which will give you time to leave Vegas” he says grabbing my hand

“But what about you Matt? They’ll kill you….” I say as my voice shakes

“Exactly” he says nodding his head

“No….no you can’t do that! Come with me” I say to him looking at him in the eyes

“I can’t…they’ll catch up before we leave and we’ll both be dead instantly. Suzie and I tried it when we were 14. Thought we could leave and be young lovers together. They shot her dead in front of me… told me I’d be next if I ever stepped out of line again. You remind me so much of her I can’t see that happen again” he replied wiping tears from his eyes

“Matthew no…. I can’t leave you to die” I say sobbing

“Maybe it’s been my destiny all along” he says to me

“Maybe you can escape right before they come looking for my car. You’d get a good head start on them! Meet me in Vegas. We can run away together” I say nodding my head and licking my tear stained lips

He chuckled lightly and shook his head, opting not to answer as he stood up.

“I need you to walk outside with me when it’s time. Pretend to mouth me off, kick, scream holler! I’ll stuff you in the car and we’ll be on our way” He says to me

“Okay yeah yeah” I respond nodding my head

“But for now we wait” he states, backing up and leaning against the pole.

About thirty minutes passed before we heard anything. Barely mumbling a few words to each other. My throat had run dry from the anxiety. The fact that I could die if one thing goes wrong but mainly the fact that the last moments I’ll be sharing with Matt is him helping me escape my death that will then become his death….. my heart couldn’t take letting him die

He was destined for more. The way his eyes would light up anytime he asked me about what Vegas is like or what any other place I’ve ever visited was like. What stuck with me the most was the way his face would change when he’d realized the life he was living and what he’d have to go back to. The twinkle always disappearing. It made my heart heavy.

I wouldn’t let him die. It’s not happening and I don’t care what I have to do to prevent it. He’s had such a painful life and he’s going to honor it by dying….

My thoughts were interrupted by Matt, my eyes slowly shifting from the basement window over to his face.

“They called us up, I’m going to grab you by the back of your head and I need to just start lashing out immediately, got it?” He asked me

“Got it” I said to him

Quickly helping me out of the rope that held me to the chair he grabbed the back of my head as my arms were tied behind my back.

Gripping my hair harder I knew it was time to give it my all. Taking a shaky breath I began to yell

“LET GO OF ME, YOU AND THIS TOWN A BUNCH OF CRAZIES” I yelled as I thrashed against his grip

“Quit it” he yelled back as he pulled me up the stairs with him

“You think you can get rid of me huh? MY WHOLE FAMILY WILL COME HERE LOOKING FOR YOU” I said firmly

“LET GO LET GOOO” I kept yelling as I pulled against him, tears streaming down my face

He walked us towards the front door and that’s where Beaufort stopped us.

“Such a fiery little lady! I knew from the moment you called you’d be a problem. But one thing about me is I make my problems go away” he says sucking his tobacco and grinning at me

“You won’t get away with this you sick son of a bitch” I spat at him

“Watch me” he said smiling and opening the front door for me

“NOOO STOP NO PLEASEEE” I yelled as I kicked and thrashed against Matt. My legs swinging as I tried to “escape” his grip

“Should’ve stood in your home town. So sad you’ll be having a little accident” Beaufort says to me as he steps onto my porch

“I’ll kill you all just you watch” I yelled as Matt shoved me into the back seats as I continued to kick and hit things

Beaufort smiled an evil smile as he waved goodbye. Matt hopped in the front seat as we began to back out of my gravel driveway.

Driving down the road Matt looked in his rear view mirror before looking at me

“Okay we’re in the clear” he says to me

Sitting up I looked at him opening my mouth to talk but stopping once I saw him shaking his head no at me.

“You can’t get me to change my mind” he says

“Matt this is not okay. I basically just signed your death wish” I said to him

“And I told you maybe it’s what’s best for me” he replied shrugging his shoulder

“Okay and maybe it isn’t! Maybe it isn’t” I said sternly to him as I began to lose my patience

“Matt we’ve had such an amazing connection this past month, a connection I’ve never had with anyone else before and you can’t just leave me” I said pleading with him

“Don’t you get it? I can’t have them coming after you. I care for you lot sweetheart and if I had to live with another love of mine being hurt I couldn’t live with myself.” He replied gripping the steering wheel harder

I huffedd out a breath of annoyance and sat back in the seat, letting a few tears fall from my face. This is pure insanity! I couldn’t live with myself if Matt got hurt or even killed. I felt confused, one hand I’d be safe but on the other hand Matt would potentially be….. dead.

I hadn’t even realized how long I was in thought until the car came to a halt and I heard Matt put the car in park.

Hopping out of the car I followed suit

“Take the car and run like hell outta here darlin” he said handing the keys to me

“Please come with” I begged as I chewed my bottom lip

“I can’t little lady” he responded shaking his head and wiping his nose

“Ditch your getaway car and come with me burn your car and let’s go, we can run like hell out of here together” I said gripping onto his arms

“I can’t, I have to go back” he says looking me in my eyes

“Can you at least attempt to leave town? Maybe tonight before they come looking for my car, leave before them” I said basically begging

“I can try, but I can’t make any promises darlin” he states swallowing thickly

“Please Matt…. For me” I say wiping my eyes

“The best I can do is try, this is for you. Whether I make it out alive or not just know I want you to be safe and I will always be with you” he says to me pulling me in for a hug

“I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done” he says to me as he pulls away

“I’m going to miss you” I say to him

“I’m still here” he says smiling at me

I shook my head and hugged him once again

“I better head on back” he says pulling away

Turning on his heels he walks over to his car as I follow behind. Hopping in his car he rolls down his window as I lean on it.

“Now darlin you have to promise me that you’ll listen and you’ll get out of here. Don’t try and save me” he says smiling as he bats tears from his eyes

“I promise” I responded in a whisper

“And you have to promise to never forget about me” I told him as I smiled

“I could never! I swear I’ll try and contact you if I can pretty girl” he says back as he nods his head

“Thank you Matt for getting me out of here” I say one last time

Looking into his eyes I lean over and plant my lips on his. The kiss was needy and sad. It was a goodbye kiss…. A goodbye that meant forever. There was no see you later with Matt….

We hugged and shared one last final kiss. Parting ways I got in my car and we both drove off. I was numb the whole way home. I mean how does one process all of this? My life felt so unreal?

There were many hours of crying, sitting in silence and contemplations of turning back around. I just felt so confused, I didn’t want to leave Matt and I also didn’t want to die…. I didn’t have many options

Arriving home was the most bittersweet moment. I couldn’t really tell anyone what I really went through. What that town and what those people are truly like

I spent many days in and out of therapy really trying to understand what happened to me and how to process it. What really ate at me was the fear of being found, the fear of dying and especially the fear of never seeing Matt again.

One year later

If I knew that that day I hugged and kissed Matt goodbye would be the last time I’d ever see him, I’d hold on tighter. When I finally realized Matt wasn’t coming back it hurt bad… I mean I’d hid away blaming myself for all of this.

Wondering well maybe I didn’t push hard enough because if I did he would’ve caved and came with me. Not knowing if he was dead or alive really ate at my soul. Many days went by where I wanted to call his landline, but that would be a one way ticket to my grave.

It was hard moving. After experiencing something so intense with someone and needing them by your side to never seeing them again will always sting the most.

I was angry because I felt he didn’t try hard enough. Because if he did then he’d be here right now. And then that was filled with sadness and worry. I wasn’t sure if he was okay and I had to live with the fact that I would never know.

It’s so crazy how you’ll be living your life one way and then it flips upside down so randomly.

As I finished typing my chapter on my computer I let out a sigh. Writing a book about what I went through and losing Matt was the only way I could seem to cope.

It was actually Professor Wayne who convinced me to write this. He was actually helping me a lot through all this and he truly saw how it changed me. But everytime he saw the excitement in my eyes once I finished a chapter he knew it was genuinely helping me mentally.

Pressing save I closed my laptop and looked out my window. The rain is pattering against the glass. Such a bittersweet feeling. A year ago today I was about to sleep with my weird neighbor and friend and now I’m here in my empty apartment staring out the glass and reminiscing.

It’s still an open wound that I’m working on daily to stitch close. No one prepares you for traumatic events, especially ones that chemically alter your brain. I watched the rain trickle down the warm glass as I blink slowly. Racking my brain for answers…. I mean hell I’m just looking for one simple answer

I just want to know is Matt truly dead, or is he just

Hidden in the shadows….

The End

Yallll I hope you enjoyed the finale cause I hated it🤭 this is why I don’t write series because I’m so shit at ending things. But anywho I hope you liked it and I can’t wait to write some more for yall 🥹🖤

-J💅🏽

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