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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

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The year is 1986. Eddie is in danger of not graduating (again). Reader is his girlfriend, and she’s tired of him not taking his future seriously, so she breaks up with him. He finally decides to get his sh*t together and buckles down. But is it too late? Will he graduate? Will the love of his life take him back? Up to you, bb!

xoxoxoxo, @munson-blurbs 💚💚 PS ily

Anything for you, my love! I hope you enjoy the way I broke Eddie’s heart. It hurt me more than it did him. ily2💚

Words: 5.2k

“Eddie, we’ve got to study,” you say. He’s kneeling behind you on his bed, pressing soft kisses along the back of your neck as you try to focus on the textbook laying open in your lap.

“How am I supposed to concentrate, hmm? With you sitting on my bed, looking so beautiful,” Eddie says against your skin.

“Okay,” you say, letting your book thump onto his sheets. “I’m gonna quiz you on stuff that’ll be on our finals. For every right answer, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. For every wrong answer, it’s an extra fifteen minutes of study time.”

“Fire away, baby.” Eddie lounges back against his wall and tucks his hands behind his head, a sinful smirk on his lips.

“Let’s start with English,” you say as you shift on the bed to face him. “What two Shakespeare plays are written entirely in verse?”

Eddie purses his lips, eyes searching his bedroom ceiling as if the answers were written across it in big bold letters. “Hamlet and…McBeth?”

“King John and Richard II,” you say with a sigh. Eddie groans and lets his hands fall down to his lap.

“Ehh, shit,” Eddie says. “But just because it had two answers doesn’t mean that’s half an hour of study time! That was one question, so only one fifteen-minute addition.”

“Fine,” you say, silently knowing this is all in vain anyway. Eddie’s been caring less and less about school lately, to the point where you’re afraid he’s going to fail senior year for the third time. “We’ll move onto biology.”

“Take your clothes off and I’ll give you a biology lesson.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Fine, fine, sorry. Go on.”

“What part of the brain deals with balance and coordination?”

One of his dark brown eyes squeezes closed and he tilts his head from side to side as if he’s deliberating what he wants for dinner.

“The left part. No, wait, that’s a joke! I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Um…the frontal lobe?” Eddie winces, knowing that this was just a wild guess—it was the first part of the brain he could think of.

“The cerebellum,” you say.

“Okay,” Eddie says, nodding his head. “I’ll remember that. The cerebrum controls balance and coordination.”

“The cerebellum,” you correct.

Eddie groans, rolling the tension out of his neck before letting his head thump back against the wall.

“Come on, hit me again.”

“Last one,” you say as you adjust your legs tucked underneath you. “History this time. What city was the first capital of the United States?”

“I know it wasn’t DC,” Eddie says, pointing his finger at you. “Hmm, what other cities were important then? Boston, Philly…Philly! Philadelphia!”

At the shake of your head, Eddie slumps down on the bed.

“New York City,” you tell him.

“Ugh, fuck me.” Eddie rubs his hands over his face, and you give him a pat on the leg.

“Not tonight, hot shot. Grab your books.”

Spending your free period in the library, pouring over books, you’re jarred out of the world of microeconomics by the chair across the table from you screeching against the floor as it’s pulled out. A dark figure plops down in it, and you glance up to see the dark leather jacket and black Judas Priest t-shirt that you’d sat next to in last period English. Eddie runs a hand over his unruly curls and shoots you a smile.

“Hey, babe.”

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing here?” you get out through gritted teeth. You’re almost certain the pencil in your hand is going to snap in half. “You’re supposed to be in history.”

“Ugh, O’Donnell,” Eddie complains, dropping his head back. “I swear, she was there for half the shit she’s telling us about. God, I couldn’t take it anymore. She’s just droning on and on. Told her I had to take a leak and knew this is where I’d find my best girl.”

“Eddie!” You all but shout his name before remembering you’re in the library and you lower your voice. “Eddie, you’re already in danger of failing her class. Among others. Should you really be skipping class?”

“Babe, it’s been five minutes,” he says with a chuckle, his carefree attitude that you usually love grating on your nerves.

“Okay. So, go back and pay attention now.” Your tone is sharp and curt, but you’ve put up with this long enough.

“Trying to get rid of me?” Eddie asks, jutting out his lower lip in what is an admittedly adorable pout. He leans forward on the table, letting his hand slide over to rest on top of one of yours.

“Trying to get you to graduate,” you say, snatching your hand away. Your boyfriend watches you with wide eyes as you slam your book closed and shove it into your backpack. Slinging it over your shoulder, you stand up and nod your head towards the library door. “Let’s go.”

Eddie follows behind you like a lost puppy as you storm out of the library and stalk down the hall. Once you’ve turned down an empty hallway, you spin around to face him. The anger in your eyes takes him aback, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“You’re mad,” he says softly.

“Yes, I’m mad,” you snap. “My boyfriend doesn’t seem to give a shit if he graduates high school or not.”

“I care,” Eddie defends weakly.

“If you cared, you’d be in class right now. Or would study with me when I ask—or at all! Jesus, Eddie, I’ve been trying for months to get you to take your future seriously.”

“My future with you is what’s most important,” Eddie says, hand reaching out for you. Hurt flashes across his face when you pull away, and it hurts you too. This isn’t what you wanted. You’ve never wanted to be the reason Eddie’s in pain. But you also can’t just sit by and let him do this to himself.

“That’s part of the problem, Eddie. You’re so focused on me and not enough on you.”

“Because I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too, Eddie,” you reply, tears starting to fill your eyes. “That’s why I’m so concerned about you. About your future.”

“I’ll go back to class,” Eddie says, taking a step closer to you. “I-I’ll study with you. Baby, I promise.”

“You’ve said that before.” You squeeze your eyes closed, resolving yourself to what you know you have to do. As much as you don’t want it. As much as it’s going to break your heart. “It’s not enough, Eddie.”

“Then what?” Eddie rests his hands on your upper arms. “Tell me what to do.”

“It’s too late,” you say, shaking your head.

“W-What do you mean it’s too late?” But the dread in his eyes says he knows exactly what you mean.

“You’re not taking your future seriously. I’ve tried so hard to help you, but there’s only so much I can push you. At some point you have to do it for yourself. I’m so tired of waiting for you to do it, though. It hurts me to sit here and watch you not care about you as much as I do.”

“Sweetheart, please—.”

“Eddie, it’s over. We’re over.”

Tears flood his eyes as his jaw hangs open. Eddie’s hands slip from your arms, and he stumbles back a step. You know the pain on his face must be reflected in your own. And maybe it means you’re a coward, but you can’t look at his broken expression anymore. Tucking your thumbs into your backpack straps, you turn around and walk down the empty hallway, away from Eddie.

Eddie feels numb. He’s walking around school in a haze. Friends try to talk to him in the hallway, but they sound like they’re underwater and Eddie can’t understand them. Gareth waves his hand in front of Eddie’s face, but he doesn’t even blink. Jeff grabs his shoulder, but Eddie doesn’t even feel it, he just keeps walking. It’s not until Dustin grabs Eddie by the zipper of his leather jacket and pushes him up against the lockers that the twenty-year-old snaps back to reality.

“What?” Eddie asks, big brown eyes blinking as he tries to focus on the shorter man in front of him.

“Are you okay? What the hell is going on?” Dustin asks. Eddie’s eyes find the floor and he shakes off Dustin’s hands.

“She left me,” he mumbles.

“What?” Gareth asks, leaning in to hear him better.

“She fucking broke up with me, okay?” His friends flinch as Eddie pushes himself off the lockers and runs his hands over his hair. They back away, giving him room to pace the small area around him.

“Why?” Jeff asks, sounding half afraid to ask the question to his hot-tempered friend.

“She said I’m not taking my future seriously,” Eddie answers. “That I don’t seem to care that I’m failing classes. Again.” Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see his three friends share a look. He stops pacing and stares at them. “What?”

“I mean,” Jeff starts quietly, “she has a point.”

When Eddie just continues to stare, Dustin decides to speak up as well.

“She’s been trying real hard to help you, man. You haven’t seemed to care, though.”

“I…I care,” Eddie says.

“When’s the last time she tried to get you to study?” Dustin asks.

“The other night.” Eddie remembers, thinking about how he failed your quiz.

“And what did you do?” Dustin asks.

Eddie sighs and rubs a hand over his forehead. “Tried to have sex with her.”

“This is probably a good thing,” Gareth says, shrinking in on himself when Eddie glares at him. “For you. So you can focus on school.”

Eddie scoffs. “She really think I’m gonna be able to focus on school after she shatters my heart like this? Fuck, I love her so much.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Jeff says.

“Fuck this shit.” Eddie slams his fist against the lockers and strides down the hall, towards the exit.

When Eddie gets home, Wayne hasn’t left for work yet. He’s sitting on the couch, remote control in his hand as he points it at the small television and clicks through the channels. Eddie wrenches open the front door, dirty black boots stomping into the trailer before banging the door closed behind him. Wayne pauses his channel surfing to raise an eyebrow at his nephew.

“What’s the matter with you, boy?”

Ignoring the older man, Eddie strides down the hallway to his bedroom, footsteps so heavy they rattle the mugs hanging on the living room walls. Wayne was no stranger to Eddie temper tantrums—having raised him through puberty—but this is a level he hasn’t seen since the last time a letter from his father arrived. He gives it a few moments before deciding to see what’s going on with the brooding boy. Wayne hoists himself off the couch, groaning as his bones click and muscles tighten.

The bedroom door isn’t fully closed, so Wayne swings it open to see Eddie lying flat on his back, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. He hadn’t even bothered to shed himself of the leather jacket or boots before plopping down.

“I know I may not have taught you much in life, boy, but I know I taught you manners,” Wayne says.

Eddie stays silent, which is never the case. That worries Wayne more than anything.

“Eddie?”

“She dumped me.”

Wayne takes a moment to process what his nephew says. He places his hands on his hips and blows out a breath.

“What happened?”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face before responding. When he does speak, his tone is bitter. “She said that I don’t care about my future. That she’s tired of sitting around while I’m out here being a dumbass.”

“She wouldn’t say that,” Wayne says with a shake of his head.

“Maybe not with those exact words.” Eddie forces himself to sit up, shoulders slumped. “But the same messaging.”

Sighing, Wayne sits down next to him and pats his shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear that. She’s a good kid.”

“I always told her that you like her more than you like me,” Eddie grumbles.

“Only sometimes,” Wayne jokes with a small smile. “Now, you’re allowed to wallow for one day—two at the most. Then you get your ass in gear and get your act together.”

With a low groan, Eddie flops back down on the bed. “Don’t wanna.”

“Well,” Wayne says, pushing himself off the bed. “The girl is either gonna be right about you or wrong. It’s up to you which one it is.”

Wayne makes his way out of the bedroom and Eddie rolls over so he’s face down on his bed. He squeezes his eyes shut as the first of the tears begin to burn his eyes. The way his throat begins to tighten has Eddie gripping his blanket in his fists. Wayne’s words repeat in his head. Would you end up being right? Is everything you said about him true? Of course it is, he thinks to himself. He’s about to fail senior year for the third time—and he didn’t even care. Until now, he decides. Pushing himself off the bed, Eddie yanks his leather jacket off. He tosses it in the general direction of his closet, not caring where it lands as he bends down to pick his biology textbook from the floor.

“Should be able to read this whole damn thing before finals.”

Eddie’s friends hardly recognize him at lunch the next day. Instead of arguing over Lucas missing another Hellfire meeting for a basketball game and munching on pretzels, he has his nose buried in a book.

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Gareth says, dropping his tray on the tabletop. His brows pinch together when Eddie doesn’t even lift his head.

“Is that Eddie Munson reading a book?” Jeff asks.

“And not just a book,” Dustin says as he slides into the seat next to his Dungeon Master. He picks the corner up to take a look at the cover to confirm his suspicions, but Eddie’s quick to slap his hand away so he can keep reading. “Eddie is reading Romeo and Juliet.”

“Look at this cultured man,” Gareth says. Still, Eddie doesn’t lift his head.

“How far do you think this will go?” Mike asks. “Think we could shit talk Metallica?”

“I’m reading, I’m not deaf,” Eddie says.

“Is this about—” Lucas starts but Dustin elbows him in the ribs.

Finally, Eddie raises his eyes from the book and sends a death glare to all of his friends. He slams the book closed and snatches it up before striding out of the cafeteria. Weren’t these the same assholes who had told him that you were right about him not taking his future seriously? But the moment they see him trying to improve himself, they decide to make snide jokes. Eddie grumbles as he makes his way to the library, banging the door open and ignoring the sneer from the librarian as he drops down at a table. With a sigh, he opens the book again and continues where he left off before he was rudely interrupted.

Two periods later, Eddie’s pretty sure Mrs. O’Donnell is going to have a heart attack after he raises his hand and answers a question correctly. The crone takes a moment before continuing her lecture and Eddie smirks in self-satisfaction.

Once Eddie gets used to his eyes being tired from reading so much, and his headaches from the information overloads start to abate, he manages to bring his grades up. It takes a couple of weeks for him to finally see the difference, but when he does, he feels something that he’s not sure if he’s ever felt before: pride. Being proud of himself is odd at first, and he smokes a bit more than usual to dull the sensation, but he soon comes to enjoy it and the pleasant buzz he feels has nothing to do with the weed.

A few weeks out from graduation, Eddie’s lounging on the wall in front of the school, stretched out as the late spring sun warms the afternoon, reading the assigned chapter in The Outsiders. A shadow falls across the pages of his book and Eddie squints as he looks up, finding you standing next to him, thumb hooked in the strap of your backpack, a strained smile on your face.

“Hey, stranger,” you say.

Eddie pushes himself into a sitting position, letting his long legs dangle over the side of the wall. He closes his book, keeping a ring clad finger between the pages that he’s currently on.

“Hey,” Eddie says. This is the first time you’ve talked to one another since that day in the hallway. Neither of you had even contacted one another to give back stuff that was at the others’ houses. Eddie knows there’s a handful of his t-shirts at your place and he’s not sure if it comforts him or causes him pain to wonder if you still wear them to sleep. And he knows exactly where the David Bowie tapes that you left in his room are—one is in his stereo right now. He’s managed to either hide or push down the pain from the breakup, but he still spends most nights falling asleep to Space Oddity or Ziggy Stardust. It even got to the point where Wayne had come into his room and said, “As glad as I am that I don’t have to listen to your screaming music, you’ve gotta stop wallowing in pity. Or at least listen to Elvis or somethin’ while ya do.”

“I saw you in the library last week. And I’ve heard that you’ve been working really hard,” you tell him. “I’m glad, Eddie. That’s amazing.”

“Uh, thanks,” he says, nodding his head. Under the guise of avoiding the bright sun, he ducks his head down and looks at his white sneakers. But really, he’s not sure if he can look you in the eye for more than a second at a time. The sadness had given way to anger, which gave away to an empty, aching pain in the pit of his stomach. “I, um, started because I didn’t want you to be right. Apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought I needed to get my shit together. But, uh, now I’m doing it for me. Trying to put me first.”

“Good,” you say. Eddie looks up to see you giving him a genuine smile. The one not many other people got to see. You’re not attempting to give him a pep talk or play some kind of game with him. Eddie can tell that you’re being authentic and really are pleased to see him succeeding. “You deserve it, Eddie. I’m proud of you.”

The words affect him more than he would’ve thought. His throat feels tighter and suddenly the spring day feels like it’s a blisteringly hot August afternoon. “Thanks,” he manages to get out.

“And I—um, I’m sorry. I really hope you know that I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” And he does. Now. He’d had moments of thinking you had done it as a way of calling him stupid or pathetic. But once the haziness of the initial heartbreak wore off, he realized you would never think that, let alone be cruel enough to insinuate it.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie,” you say, offering him a small wave. He nods his head in acknowledgment and tries to get back to his book. But too much of you fills his head for him to be able to focus on what Ponyboy is talking about.

Finals come and they go. Eddie waits with bated breath for the results, feeling more on edge, even with kicking up the pot smoking again. When Eddie sees that he’s passed every single exam, the high he feels is better than he could’ve imagined. Not quite as good as some drug highs and definitely nowhere as near the high you gave him, but it’s still good. For the first time in his life, Eddie is excited to come home and wave a school paper in Wayne’s face. In the past, it’d been a detention slip, a letter of reprimand from the principal, or a failed report card that he needed to have signed and returned. But this is something good. Better than good, Wayne tells him.

“Looks like you’ve got to get yourself a cap and gown, boy.”

So, he does. When he puts them on the morning of graduation though, he groans at how the shade of green looks on him. Black was his best color, according to him, so something this bright just wasn’t him.

He strolls over to his stereo near the window and firmly presses the play button. Heroes by David Bowie fills the small bedroom as Eddie takes another look at himself in the mirror. No one would look good in this color, he thinks. Well, he muses, that’s not true. You would look good in this color because it’s impossible for you to ever look anything less than breathtaking.

I, I will be king

And you, you will be queen

Eddie sighs and turns away from the mirror. Grabbing his keys off of his bedside table, Eddie clicks the pause button on his stereo before heading down the hallway.

“See ya at the ceremony, old man,” Eddie says to his uncle before he’s out the trailer door.

Only the graduates and school faculty get there this early, so the parking lot is relatively empty when Eddie pulls in. He hops out of his van and sees Jeff getting out of his car a few spaces over.

“Glad to see you look as awful as I do in this shit,” Eddie says as he makes his way over to his fellow Hellfire member.

“Black robes would’ve been brutal under this sun though, dude,” Jeff replies.

Eddie shrugs because he knows his friend is right. Together they walk towards the football field, a place Eddie actively tried to avoid all the years he spent here. It looks like most of the students are here already. Not long after Eddie spots Jason Carver straightening his tie, even though it’s under the gown, all the students are herded into the gymnasium to wait for the ceremony to begin. The gym smells even worse than normal with the whole senior class shoved inside. Eddie spies you off towards a corner, laughing about something with Nancy. It wouldn’t surprise him if you’re trying to make her laugh to take her mind off of the valedictorian speech she’s about to give. Eyes taking in how you look in the green cap and gown, Eddie knows he was right before; you are the only one who looks drop dead gorgeous in the graduation garment. He knows his eyes have been on you for too long, but he can’t bring himself to tear them away.

“So, what’s going on there?” Jeff asks, seeing where his friend’s gaze lies. “You did what she wanted, right? Are you going to try and get back together with her?”

Eddie sighs and finally breaks his gaze away from you. Instead, he looks up into the rafters of the gym, squinting as the bright lights shine down.

“I don’t really think this was a ‘if you fix this, we’ll get back together’ type of situation,” Eddie says. “Besides, it’s been months. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been on dates with a bunch of different guys by now.”

“You still love her, though.” It’s not a question from Jeff, it’s a statement. A fact that was as obvious as the scuff marks on the floor of the gym.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, not adding anything further.

“Shouldn’t you at least try then?” Jeff asks. “You did all that hard work.”

“But I didn’t do it for her,” Eddie answers with a shake of his head. “I did it for me.”

“But you still did it,” Jeff points out. “It won’t be in vain either way, man, because you’re here right now. About to graduate. I’m just saying you should talk to her. See where things stand.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says with a sigh.

Mrs. O’Donnell bustles into the room—well, as fast as she can at her age. Taking stock of the children around the gym, she claps her hands together to get their attention.

“Okay, okay, everyone. Time to line up. We’ll be starting soon.”

Jeff and Eddie let themselves be herded with the rest of their class and listen half-heartedly at instructions shouted at them as they make their way back outside.

Once the ceremony starts, it’s long and boring. Nancy’s speech isn’t as bad as Eddie expected, though. But Principal Higgins has to talk, then just about every other school official that Eddie swears he’s never seen in the front office even after all the time he’s spent in there. Then the never ending list of names begins. Of course all the names are familiar to Eddie, but that doesn’t mean he cares enough to watch each of them walk across the stage, shake hands, and get their diploma. There are only a select few people that Eddie actually pays attention for.

“Nancy Wheeler.”

“Robin Buckley.”

“Jason Carver.” Eddie pretends to gag.

“Chrissy Cunningham.”

“Jeff Donaldson.”

Then it’s your turn. Eddie can’t take his eyes off of you or the big grin on your face as you hop up on the stage and go through the long line of people none of you had ever heard of to shake their hands. Your eyes light up as your diploma is handed to you. Eddie doesn’t even realize he’s smiling along with you until his cheeks begin to ache. That settles it, he thinks. I have to talk to her.

“Eddie Munson.”

Hearing his own name called over the loudspeaker jars him out of his thoughts. He’s distantly aware of people cheering for him as he makes his way to the stage, but it feels too weird to be real. People didn’t even cheer for him at Corroded Coffin shows. Eddie takes the steps up to the stage two at a time and forces a pleasant smile to his lips as he shakes Principal Higgins’ hand. The rest of the faces become a blur as he moves from person to person until he finally gets his diploma. He grins at the simple rolled up paper in his hands. It’s just a blank piece of paper until his real diploma comes in, he knows, but it means so much more. It’s proof that he did it. That he graduated at long last. The now-familiar pride swells up in him as he heads back to his seat among the students in the green sea of their robes.

When the ceremony finally comes to an end, there’s hugging and crying and squealing coming from all around the football field. Eddie makes his way out into the parking lot where families are taking photos with their graduates, all smiles and congratulations. Wayne’s truck is hard to miss in the parking lot; by far the oldest vehicle there. Eddie heads in that direction and is greeted by a beaming uncle.

“M’so proud of you, boy.” Wayne pulls Eddie into a hug, which wasn’t a usual occurrence in the Munson household. “You put your mind to something and ya did it.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, smiling sheepishly.

“Congratulations.”

The familiar voice coming from behind him has Eddie spinning around so fast he hears his neck crack.

“Uh, thanks,” he says. “You too.”

“C’mon, let me get a picture of the two of you,” Wayne says, pulling a camera that looks older than Eddie out of his pocket.

Eddie is about to protest, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or feel obligated, but you’re looping your arm through his before he can even open his mouth. You tilt your head, close to Eddie’s shoulder but not quite touching, and smile prettily for the camera. Eddie musters his best look for the picture as well, but on the inside, he’s cringing as he imagines what that picture must look like.

“Perfect,” Wayne says. He unlocks his truck and tosses the camera inside. “I’ll see you later, Eddie?”

“Okay,” Eddie says.

Wayne pulls Eddie in for another hug before enveloping you in one as well.

“I’m real proud of both of you,” he says.

“Thanks, Wayne,” you reply.

Wayne climbs into his truck and gives the two of you one last wave before heading out of the parking lot.

“So, uh,” Eddie starts at the same time you say, “So, listen.”

Eddie chuckles and nods his head at you. “You first.”

“Oh, I, um, was just going to ask if you were going to the party tonight. At Cat’s place.”

“I hadn’t really planned on it,” Eddie says as he unzips the graduation robe. “Why?”

“Well, uh, I—I was wondering if maybe you’d want to? I mean, I-I’ll be there. But if you don’t wanna, I totally understand.”

“You want me to?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows at you as he slips his hands into the pockets of his black jeans.

“I do,” you say, a shy look that Eddie is unaccustomed to on your face. “Like I said, I get it if you don’t want to. But I had to at least ask.”

“I guess it wouldn’t kill me to go for a little while. Might be able to sell.”

“You don’t want to celebrate?” you ask. “Dance and drink?”

“Of all people, you should know better than anyone that I don’t dance,” Eddie says with a small smile.

“But you drink,” you point out.

“Why do you want to spend time with me?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to the side, like a puppy wondering what it’s human just said. Better to ask bluntly and get a clear answer then try to piece one together in his mind.

“I need a reason?”

“Kind of. After you dumped me? Yeah, you do.”

“I miss you,” you admit, so quietly that Eddie almost misses it. “I’ve missed you from the moment I left you standing there in that hallway. So many times I almost caved and begged you to take me back. But then I’d see you studying, and it would remind me that you need to focus on you. And you did. Look what you accomplished. I’m really, really proud of you, Eddie.”

“Not bad for the school freak, huh?” Eddie asks, the beginnings of a smirk curling his pink lips.

“I think you need a new nickname,” you muse. “We’re not in school anymore.”

“Maybe we can come up with one at the party tonight,” Eddie says, causing your face to light up in excitement.

“Really? You’ll go with me?” you ask, eyes widening in hope.

“I’d be pretty dumb not to.”

“You’ve always been far from dumb, sweetheart,” you tell him. Hesitantly, you reach out and lace your fingers with his. “I think I came up with a new nickname for you, too.”

“Do tell,” Eddie says.

“No more Eddie the Freak or Eddie the Banished,” you say, imitating Eddie’s Dungeon Master voice. “You are now Eddie the graduate.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #request

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teyamsatan · 11 months

Text

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕀𝕀: 𝕀 𝔸𝕞 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕥, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕀𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: in order to fulfil your revenge plans on Neteyam, you have to give up a lot of your life, including a future with a man who loves you dearly.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (@lanasblood trying to be better about this), smut (fingering, orgasm denial), strong language, neteyam and reader being horrible to each other lol

wc: 6.5k words

a/n: things are starting to get spicy besties 😌 i have to admit, although i am a lot more comfortable with friends-to-lovers, or more angsty tropes, i adore writing the sexual tension that comes with e2l and i hope i did it justice and you enjoy this chapter. i can't wait to hear your thoughts, bbs and thank you again for all the love and support on this series xx (thank you very much also to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art ily bestie x)

this is only half proof-read, so if you see any mistakes no you don't

na'vi compendium: yawne - beloved, Tsakarem - Tsa'hik in training, tìlor - beauty, txepvi - spark

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In a perfect world, I'd kill to love you the loudest But all I do is live to hurt you soundless Say you see I'm lying, babe, and let this go I can never promise you tomorrow

The departing footsteps echoed through the forest as O'ì'en left you all alone, with a broken heart and the man that broke it, and the feeling left you empty, the hurt of what transpired, of what he did, what you did, how with each passing blow to each other’s lives, this was no longer just a petty rivalry but felt like so much more, like too much more. You threatened him, you spit all sorts of petty warnings about hell and burning - and in the heat of the moment, that sounded cool, and doable. Not anymore, as you stood motionless in the clearing and realised that Neteyam still had so much power over you, that his grasp on your life and on your heart was so tight, tighter than anyone else’s, tight enough to bruise and crush it with a tug of his fisted fingers. You removed yourself from his grasp like his touch burned you, which it felt like it did, and put distance in between your bodies, so that you could see him, so that you could clear your mind, so that his presence wouldn’t have the effect on you it always did, that you were sure was just your body recoiling in hatred, that always manifested itself in goosebumps and shivers down your spine.

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” The tears stung as you willed them back into your tear ducts. It’s been 7 years since Neteyam has seen you cry, and you’ll be damned if that would ever change, and especially right now, as you watched the smirk grow with every departing step, with every erratic blink of your eyes, as you tried to stop them from falling down your face, as he knew he got to you, that he made you pay for the words you uttered to him before.

“Oh, yawne. One day you’ll learn to not punch above your weight, and I guess since no one else is willing to, it falls onto me to teach you.” He walks slow, purposeful steps as he nears you once more, and his eyes boring into you, filled with intensity and a feeling you couldn’t quite place, that didn’t quite match the arrogance staining his lips like poison, stilled you in your spot, until he was so close, you could feel his warm breath and musky scent, until your heart boomed painfully in your chest, echoing loudly in your ears, marginally drowning out his next words.

“Did you really think you could threaten me and everything I’ve worked for, my relationship and the rest of my life, without any repercussions, huh? Did you really think I would go down without a fight?”

His hand raised and reached to push some unruly strands of hair out of your face, and you couldn’t look away from the soft glimmer in his eyes, that was so at odds with the rest of his face, you wondered if he even knew it was there. You wondered if he knew what it signified, because you didn’t. And despite your best efforts otherwise, you couldn’t deny the curiosity that deluged you, to try and find out.

The hint in his molten golden orbs dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and so did any middling emotion that tried you, as you once more found yourself reaching for your knife and unsheathing it, holding it in between both your hands, aiming for a shoulder… or a neck, and with a feral growl, you pushed your entire forced into the blow, and yelped in pain as one of his hands wrapped around both your wrists and twisted until the knife dropped pitifully on the ground with a loud clink. Tears threatened you once more at how futile the effort had been, how easy for him to overpower you like you were nothing more than a child, or a doll. He pinned your hands above your head and pushed you until your back collided with the bark of a tree and you felt the wind getting knocked out of your lungs at the contact.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… why must you always resort to violence… yawne?” Your eyes widened as the hand that wasn’t holding you ghosted over your cheeks, tracing the air right above your lips with his thumb, and you were struggling, yet again, with the feelings that were plaguing you, that made burning appear everywhere his fingers were, burning the travelled down your body until they reached your core, that throbbed and clenched, that desperately asked you for something you would never, ever give it. After exploring your face, and tracing your jaw, his fingers finally settled on your chin, pushing it gently until your face angled upwards to meet his and no further breath could inch its way down your airways at the sight of him, at the way he looked at you, at the way it made you feel.

“You told me that you won’t mind burning in Hell as long as I burn with you. Well…” he broke eye contact to look around him at the forest surrounding you both. “Do you hear that, yawne? Fire is catching. And looks like we’re going to get to burn together after all.”

“Let me go. I told you what would happen if you ever touched me again.” His smirk never faltered, but only deepened as his eyes trailed over your body, settling on your lower abdomen.

“Mmm, yawne. I’m not sure you mean that.” It was your turn to reciprocate his guise, no ounce of shame or hesitation on your face.

“Let me go and you’ll find out whether I mean it or not.” his eyes widened, if only for a split second, and you felt like you imagined his grip on you loosening, or the fleeting sight of goosebumps peppered on his chest and neck, where your warm breath touched him.

“Are you really going to miss your chance to find lover boy and apologise like the good girl you like people to think you are?”

Your eyes lost momentary focus as he spoke. His words, although as cruel as usual, made guilt peak its ugly head over the thin-veiled curtain it was hiding behind, and you knew he was right. This was irrelevant. This whole fandangle of aggression and snarky remarks you always engaged in was not what should be occupying your brain, it wasn’t what mattered. O'ì'en mattered. Fixing Neteyam’s damage… and your own - that’s the only thing that mattered right now.

“Funny how quickly you seem to have forgotten about the one you supposedly love so much when I have your hands pinned above your head, isn’t it… yawne.”

His hands trailed over your arm as if on accident as he let you go and you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at his words, at his effect on you, at how hard you were fighting your own body and mind as they were struggling to regain composure from his touch, and his voice, and his presence.

Hate. That’s all it was. It consumed you, and you wish it didn’t, but at the end of the day, it was still just harmless, bona fide, unadulterated hate. You ignored the way your cheeks caught fire and burned beneath your skin as you ran towards the village, towards where you assumed O’i’en was headed, without sparing your biggest, your only enemy a second glance.

'Cause I have yet to learn how not to be his This city will surely burn if we keep this as it is

You spent hours searching for him, but despite trying every place you knew he liked to frequent, all efforts proved futile. You knew he wouldn’t want to be found, but still, you held a glimmer of hope in your heart that at least subconsciously, he’d want you to find him, to allow him to explain what was mostly inexplainable and inexcusable - you couldn’t blame him for proving you wrong.

Eventually, as eclipse was nearing with each passing moment, defeated and regretful, you went to the nearby river, that was almost deserted due to the approaching evening, that you hoped would bring you some answers, or some solace… some strength. What were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to listen to Eywa, and your own heart telling you to go for this mateship that you knew was wrong, but felt drawn towards, for your own twisted, sadistic reasons? Or should you listen to your mind who told you to fight for what you knew would be a comfortable, healthy future, one that didn’t particularly enthral you, but hoped you could aspire to and embrace in time, with the insight that came with getting older? As always, the war between your mind and heart led to a painful impasse where both of them were bloodied and injured, but no discernible winners were left to claim victory on the choice, or on all the questions that plagued you.

You recognised Jake’s steps and his scent as he approached you, and you sighed. You were not in the mood for a lecture. Sure enough, he sat next to you, looking at the waterfall falling violently into the otherwise peaceful river, that rippled and bruised at the contact. It was funny to you now, sitting here, how that was a perfect metaphor for your relationship with Neteyam, how in his presence, you were just a river, and he was a force of nature, there to disturb and perturb, there to change you, so aggressive and formidable, and so strangely necessary. You were sad at how much his presence in your life mattered, how you knew that despite all the hurt and the pain, you owed him so much of who you were, so much of where you were. Because he pushed you every day, to be better, to strive for more, to want to be more like him in some ways, less like him in others - a better daughter, a better friend, a better sibling, a better soldier, a better warrior, a better clan member.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing here, eclipse will be upon us soon. You know the rules.”

“I know the rules, Jake. And with all due respect, right now, I really couldn’t care less about them.”

You turned to him and noted his expression melting from one of annoyance, raised eyebrow and an open mouth, ready to chastise you for your insubordination and recalcitrance, into a soft and pitying one, as he took in your tear-stained face and trembling lips. You never cried, not in front of anyone who mattered, so the fact that here you stood, so obviously distressed, concerned Jake more than he could say out loud.

“What’s wrong, baby girl? What happened?”

“I… I need to find O'ì'en… I’ve been looking for hours, but I can’t find him. Have you seen him anywhere?” Your sniffles and a hoarse, broken voice were more than enough to bring a grimace to the Olo’eyktan’s face.

“Oh, honey…” his arms circled your much smaller body and he squeezed, the much needed hug warm and very welcome. Your hand tightened around his forearm, and you started sobbing silently as he held you. You’ve always been immensely grateful for the Sullys and their patriarch, but especially so in moments like this, when his paternal instincts kicked in, a role he was much better at than he ever gave himself credit for.

“I ruined it… I ruined everything. I should have told him, I should have been honest with him. I should have come to you and asked you to free me of this responsibility that I never wanted to shoulder in the first place.”

“You can still ask, kid. We would never force you into something you genuinely aren’t comfortable with, and you should know that. In fact, you do know that. But you didn’t come. Why?”

You had no answer to that, because truthfully, you didn’t know. Getting revenge on Neteyam wasn’t a good enough answer, and more and more, you realised that - and you knew Jake would challenge you on it as soon as the words came out of your mouth. Getting revenge isn’t a good enough reason to sacrifice your own happiness, and liberty, your future as a warrior and your future with the man you wanted to want so badly. It wasn’t a good enough reason because it wasn’t the reason - not the only reason, not the full reason, but that was something you couldn't think about, you couldn't even fathom, not yet, so you didn't.

At your lack of response, Jake sighed and looked contemplatively at the river being perturbed by the waterfall crashing on it, at the way the water rippled and undulated, at the way the bioluminescent glow of the underwater plankton, that was visible now that eclipse settled over the land, warped under its force.

“Did I ever tell you I had this girlfriend back on Earth? This was when I was young, about your age.” You shook your head softly, not looking at him, still focused and mesmerised by the same view he was studying.

“She was amazing. So kind, and sweet, and beautiful… and good. Too good for me. And I loved her. She was the first girl I looked at and thought that maybe, just maybe, she would be the one. I used to pick her up after her classes were over and we would just drive in my car, just down the coast, in Anaheim at sundown, and I remember feeling so happy, thinking that I would feel this way the rest of my life.”

You thought about that, and about your boyfriend, who very much seemed like what Jake was describing, who brought you comfort and safety. You thought about walking with him in this place Jake called Anaheim, in a heavenly place away from hurt and pain, away from mistakes and fears, just two people who loved each other, who wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. You felt grief envelop you when the face that appeared in your visions wasn’t the one you wanted to see, the one you hoped you’d see, the one you needed to see. You hated your brain and your heart for not allowing you to commit to him the way you knew you should, in the way that would ensure you a future of happiness and peace, a love worth harbouring, a pure and kind love, just like the one Jake described.

“What happened? Between… you and her, I mean?” Jake shrugged, a small, content smile on his face.

“It just didn’t work out. I joined the military, she continued her studies. We would have never worked. I wasn’t good enough for her, and she deserved someone who could love her the way she was meant be loved. Anaheim is still a beautiful memory to me, and I’ll always cherish it, but it made way for something much, much better. For both of us.

I think sometimes we hold on to things we think we need, we want to want, but these things pertain to a version of ourselves that isn’t fully authentic. I think it’s easy to pretend when we’re with certain people that life is one way, that we could fit in it, in this world we’ve created in our heads, in the world that they inspire, but the sooner we accept the realities of our circumstances, of who we are and where we truly belong, the more time we have to enjoy life for how it’s meant to be lived: fully, wildly, being wholly ourselves.”

He stood up and headed back towards the village, not before giving you an affectionate pat on the head and a squeeze of your shoulders. His last words echoed in your ears long after he departed, leaving you with so much to think about, and so much pain at knowing he was right, and that soon, you’d have to break a heart and learn to mend your own.

“You can still ask, kid. I just think, deep down, Anaheim isn’t for you… just like it wasn’t for me.”

But I'd give anything to stop time And drive around Anaheim at sun down And teach my mind to put you first

It took the whole night, but you eventually found him, after a painful conversation with his mother, at a different river he used to love coming to as a little kid with his father, one much further away from the village. He was sitting on the river bank, lost in thought, his feet dangling mindlessly in the water that rushed downstream, agitated and tumultuous, much like your mind. You sighed deeply, trying your hardest to build up the courage for the most difficult conversation you’ve ever had, one in which you knew the end result was a broken heart, one that you caused, that you never meant to, that you would never want. You knew what it was like to be broken-hearted, sad and unmoored from the reality you’ve built up in your mind, from your hopes and dreams, from the future you were promised and now will never have again. But after the conversation with Jake, you knew it was the right thing to do. You loved O'ì'en, you truly did, just not enough to ever give him everything he needed and deserved, not for the rest of your life. You had darkness in you he would never be skilled enough to wander through, to bring light into, and you would never want him to try, not when it would dim his own light, that deserved to be nourished and heightened by someone, who much like him, was good and pure, and better than you’d ever be.

“O'ì'en…”

He wasn’t startled by your presence. His gaze didn’t shift from where it was intently fixed, and you knew you shouldn’t expect that it did. You wouldn’t want to look at yourself, either.

“You know, I watched for so long the interactions between you and Neteyam, and they always made me sad and uncomfortable. The hatred that I could not understand, that seemed to occupy so much of your time and space in both your minds, that consumed you both. I watched it, and I wanted to say something, but I never thought it was my place. It hurt me, seeing you suffer at his hands, and hurt me that you always reciprocated, that you never took the high road, that you always felt the need to one-up him, to give as good as you got. It was so toxic and unhealthy, and I hoped in time, you’d move away from it. I hoped I could help you. But now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to, not anymore. And I don’t know if I want to.”

Tears rolled down your face with every word uttered, with every sentence that cut deeper and deeper in you, until you were bleeding and bruised, until it all hurt, being here, seeing him, hearing him, the past and the future, the present and your actions, and Neteyam’s actions, and everything that lead to this moment. It was so much easier to get your heart broken, you realise faintly, than to break a heart. Heartbroken, you could pity yourself, victimise yourself, tell yourself and the world that it’s not you, but the other person, the one who instigated it. You can sleep at night knowing you were wronged, that if it wasn’t for the pain that someone else caused you, things would be different, easier. There was nothing easy about watching a good person suffer and knowing you caused it, and you wondered how you were ever going to fall asleep again, how were you going to be able to live with yourself.

“I didn’t choose this, O'ì'en… any of this. I need you to know this. Mo’at asked us to come to her as a matter of urgency the other day, she told us that Eywa gave her a sign, showed her a vision, and that by her will, Neteyam and I will have to become a mated-pair.” You felt bad about leaving out certain… extenuating circumstances, but you realise that sometimes, certain things are better left unsaid and once some words are uttered, some actions taken, they can’t be recalled, they can’t be reversed, they won’t dematerialise - their echoes will forever ring through time, leaving damage and hurt in their wake, and you didn’t want that - not for him.

“Have you told her you don’t want to? Have you gone to the Tsa’hik, or the Olo’eyktan, or the Tsakarem and talked to them, told them you are in love with someone else, that you made up your mind? Did you fight for us at any point? For me?”

Your eyes widened at his words, that had an edge to them you’ve never observed in him before, that you didn’t even realise he was truly capable of. The words stung needles on your skin and in your eyes, that had prickling tears still falling uninterrupted, like summer rain, soaking your heart and soul that hurt because you knew that you couldn’t give him an answer that would satisfy him… you couldn’t give him an answer at all.

“They look at you like you’re their daughter. They would listen to you if you asked. But you didn’t, did you?”

“I once overheard Lo’ak talk about you and Neteyam to his human friend. He was concerned about you. About both of you. But aside from that, he talked about you two like you were an inevitability. About passion that ran so deep there was no way only hatred fuelled it. That there must be something underneath it all. I heard this and it made me angry at the time… I thought that he was unreasonable and out of line. Naively, I took your affection at face value and never looked beyond. Until now, that is. When I realised that in our time together, all the time we shared, all the moments that were sweet and innocent and everything I’ve ever wanted, you’ve never once shared even a fraction of that passion for me.”

“O'ì'en, no…”

“I think, deep down, you don’t want to get out of this because it’s finally a way to bridge the gap that has existed between you and Neteyam for so long, a gap you secretly wished had never existed. I think you’ve been in love with him since you were children, and this was the perfect opportunity to change a path you thought was set in stone before. I think he’s in love with you, too. But both of you are too mean, too stubborn with each other to see past your differences. To talk.”

“You’re wrong.” The temper was rising in your chest as his head continued shaking, denying your statement, as his words were processing in your mind, the unbelievable, insane, unreasonable words that you couldn’t believe were being uttered right before you, not by him. You wanted to scream at him, to shout and tell him that it’s all wrong, all of this, everything is all wrong. That the passion he’s talking about is just intense dislike that was so grand, so overpowering, it couldn’t be contained inside your body, nor inside his. That you were not in love with Neteyam - you hated Neteyam. With every fibre of your being, you loathed the man that hurt you so deeply, so intimately, for so long, that forsook the past you shared and the memories you made and what you meant to him, or what he meant to you.

You wanted to tell him that he’s delusional in ever thinking that man could ever be in love with you, when all he did was find new ways to torture you, to belittle you, to make you feel lesser than him, lesser than anyone he knew. How could that ever be love? How could that ever work? This was love. What you had with O'ì'en. Pure and good and kind and easy. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt, right? Love was supposed to feel natural, like coming home after a long, exhausting day, it wasn’t supposed to be what made the day long and exhausting in the first place. He was so wrong.

But you didn’t find it in you to argue with him. Not with him. Someone else will have to bear the consequences of your repressed anger, but not O'ì'en, because he deserves better than what he got, and what you gave, and in truth.. none of this mattered anyway. Arguing would make no difference in this doomed relationship, so you calmed yourself for the time being and spoke in as even of a tone you could manage.

“O'ì'en… I think you’re wrong. But, it doesn’t matter. You’re right that I didn’t talk to Mo’at, and that I should have. Regardless of the circumstances that led to this, I am so sorry. I will forever be sorry for the way you found out, for the way this came to be. I’m so sorry you had to be collateral damage in a war that is only mine to bear. I had a whole plan about how to tell you, I had so many things I wanted to say to you. That I’m grateful to you, and that I love you. That I’m sorry it wasn’t the way that you deserve to be loved, but I do love you. That I will never forget you, and your affection that shone so brightly over me, that was a safe haven from the bad storms I’ve had to weather for so long. That I’ll be sorry every day that I wasn’t good enough for you, but am relieved by the notion that one day, you’ll find someone so much better than me, someone who will be able to give you everything you deserve and then some, and I’m relieved in knowing you will be thankful to have been rid of me.”

You decided this would have to be enough for now. One day, maybe you’ll be able to face him again. One day, maybe he’ll even be able to spare you a glance, or a smile. But not today.

“I hope you forgive me one day.”

“Me, too.”

But I'd give anything to stop time, commit to you and not crimes Against your truth and lose sight of every divide threatening to undo this story But baby, I'm so sorry, I don't think that I'll ever memorise this route

It was a long way back to the village, and with every step taken and every moment passed, the anger that you tried to stifle for his sake came back ten fold - the tiring days of fighting, of crying, of suffering, of uncertainty and rampant emotions all building up within you, all coming to a calamitous zenith that threatened to spill all around you, that begged and urged for revenge, for payback on the man that caused it all, the man that was at the centre of all your life’s woes.

He ruined your relationship? Well… let’s see how he’ll like a taste of his own medicine. You knew exactly where you’ll find him, because you knew he’d be in the place he knew he could pester you the most, in a place that’s supposed to be yours, that he tainted over and over, that you will make sure to conquer back from him, the way you eventually would all of the pieces of yourselves he’s taken from you through time.

Your tent was quiet and untouched, unlike the little nook behind it, that was completely segregated from the rest of the clan, an oasis of secrecy and privacy in an otherwise bustling environment. A place that should be yours alone, but now hid two Na’vi, one of them mewling softly at the actions of the other. Neteyam was focused on his mate’s neck, their make-out session so intense, they didn’t even notice you until it was too late, until you stood behind them, until your presence was announced by a deep sigh and a disappointed click of your tongue.

“Oh, how disappointing.”

The girl let out a distressed yelp at your voice and pushed Neteyam off of her, eliciting a deep growl from the man that was less than impressed by the interruption.

“Am I interrupting?”

You saw Neteyam’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, at the way he knew what was coming. You laughed at his expression. What did he think was going to happen after what he’s done? What did he think you were going to do finding them here? The evil smirk that possessed you reminded you of his, and you wondered if this is how panicked you looked, too, when you saw him approaching you and O'ì'en.

“You know, if you’re going to continue going against the Olo’eyktan and the Tsa’hik’s wishes and cheat on your mate, I wouldn’t do it… you know, right outside of her tent.”

“WHAT?!” The high-pitched screech nearly deafened you, but you didn’t let it show. Instead you just watched as Neteyam scrambled to get himself out of the eye of the storm threatening to tear him apart.

“Tìlor, I -“

“Ah, your boyfriend didn’t tell you?” Your smile was sickeningly sweet as you approached the couple, stopping right next to Neteyam, placing a hand on his arm, tracing the protruding veins that made saliva pool in your mouth, and you bit back a laugh at the girl’s rabid look, that looked a lot like she was going to pounce on you at any given moment - you hoped she did. Nothing would make you happier than to have an excuse to rearrange her braids. This girl that always looked down on you, that looked at you like you were an outsider or a freak, that never even tried to mask her jealousy, her disdain, her fear at the fact the Sullys preferred you, and always will.

“I will be your Tsa’hik soon. Isn’t that right… yawne?”

“So unless you want me to go and tell the clan leaders… and your mother… and your father, and everyone who matters that you’ve been fucking someone else’s mate and watch as little by little, your entire world falls apart around you, I suggest you realise this man right here, he’s not worth it. Not worth all the drama, not worth all the fuss. Just go, and find yourself a single mate, and give thanks to Eywa she’s rid you of him, cause damn, I know I wish I could be.”

The hatred in her eyes was slowly replaced with fear and embarrassment, and for a second, just a second - you felt bad for her. Because no matter how badly she’s treated you, how she’s adopted Neteyam’s behaviour as her own with no reason or rhyme, much like O'ì'en, she was also just another collateral victim in a war that kept claiming lives and hearts, and you wondered where, if at all, the line would be drawn, when, if ever, would enough be enough?

You watched as she scrambled to fasten her top around her neck properly and without another word, she was gone, leaving just you and Neteyam alone, with enough tension in the air around you to suffocate you, to feel like smoke from a fire so grand, you didn't know if weren’t skilled enough to put out.

'Cause I have yet to know how to be mine You can try to unearth this soul I swear you'll hate what you find

“Why?”

“You’re making out with someone behind my tent, knowing that would piss me off, after what you did yesterday, and you have the nerve to ask me why?” you threw your head back and laughed at the outrageousness of the question. Neteyam wasn’t stupid - far from it. He was also not naive, or oblivious, or harebrained. The question had no business coming out of his mouth, but yet it did. You didn't have time to ponder the reasons why.

“You see, Neteyam, I think you came here because you knew I’d come. Because you secretly wanted me to. Because you know deep down that this girl has nothing to offer you, and you just needed an easy way out to rid yourself of her, and you needed me to do your dirty work for you again. Well, you’re welcome, Neteyam. What the fuck would you ever do without me, huh?”

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite. All the theatricals of being heartbroken over what I did to O'ì'en and then you do the exact same thing to someone else, someone innocent.”

“Innocent, ha! You think I give a shit about your little girlfriend’s feelings, when you treated O'ì'en the way you did? He didn’t deserve this, Neteyam. Any of this. He’s good man, he respects you, and looks up to you. He -“

“He should have known better than to associate himself with you.” His bared fangs didn’t do as much to scare you, not nearly as much as his proximity to you did, at the way his eyes stared daggers at your face, that even in the heat of the moment, at the peak of anger and hatred, couldn’t help settle on your parted, wet lips. “He should have known better and realise that all you bring in people’s life is disappointment and pain. He also should have known better and realise you didn’t love him. That you never will. That you might try to act like it and convince yourself, but someone like him would never, ever satisfy you.”

“And who the fuck would satisfy me, Neteyam? You? That’s rich. I bet your poor little girlfriend’s happy she’s rid of you. Bet you haven’t made her cum once. Too busy thinking of training and ruining my life, too busy thinking about how great you think you are to make room for anyone else in there.” You poked him in the chest with your index finger, right over his heart. Your touch lingered on his body, somehow unable to bring yourself to stop, half in awe at the way his heart was racing, at the way yours beat almost in sync with his, at the way you tried to convince yourself it’s because of the anger you were feeling, and no other reason.

“Yeah? Is that what you think?”

And there he was again, once more grabbing you by your throat, and you wanted to object, and fight him, but you didn’t - you couldn’t -, not as you felt throbbing deep within you at the action, not as you had to push your thighs together to accommodate for the increasingly uncomfortable sensation, not as your loincloth was becoming more and more damp by the second. And you remember your words, and remember that you told him that if he ever touched you again, you’ll make him pay for it, but right now, in this moment, you couldn’t find it in you to speak a word, as the intensity of his gaze knocked the air out of your lungs and his fingers squeezed just enough so no more could get back in you. Your back scratched painfully against a tree as he pushed you into it, and you couldn’t help a small moan as his other hand pushed your loincloth to the side, brushing over your folds that were now sopping and swollen. He let out a soft chuckle as he felt you.

“If that’s what you really thought, you wouldn’t be dripping on my fingers right now, tsxepvi.”

Slowly, deliberately, he started exploring your heat, thumb ghosting over your clit as he watched you squirm under his touch, struggling between what you knew you should do, between your conscious mind telling you you were going to pay for this in tears and heartache, and your subconscious mind screaming to let go, to embrace the overbearing desire to give in to him, as you did in the dreams you convinced yourself in time were nightmares, but knew more and more each day that it was just another lie you told yourself to keep going.

One side of you won by a landslide, as he gently pushed two fingers in you, as he started increasing the pressure with which he was massaging your clit, and it felt so good, too good, better than anything you’ve ever felt before. You tried to contain the sounds coming through gritted teeth with all your might, knowing what he was doing, knowing giving him any indication of the pleasure he was giving you would mean another thing you’d have to pay for later, knowing you couldn’t allow him to enjoy this, you couldn’t possibly give him the satisfaction of knowing he could do this to you, but you couldn’t stop, not when his fingers curled in you and found the spongy part that made you see glimmering, blinding lights and his thumb circled your needy bud in the perfect way to heighten the sensations running through you, electrifying your every nerve. The moans turn into mewls as he increases the pressure and his pace, and you felt the pleasure in you reach a high that you were ready to ride out, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it, and you’re barely able to think about how fucking quick it was, how it took no time at all for him to get you there, how skilled his fingers, as they worked his ministrations on you. You had no will to think about what the fuck was happening, how weird it was, how the man you’ve hated for so long is doing this to you, before the feeling got too overwhelming to be contained anymore.

“Fuck, i’m gonna -“

“That’s right, tsxepvi. I can feel you squeezing my fingers. You want to come for me?”

“Argh, I-“

The moan you let you wasn’t of pleasure, it was of deep, throbbing pain as the emptiness overtook you, as soon as he removed his fingers.

He smirked, an evil smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as his fingers found his lips and he sucked on them, his tongue swirling in between them, licking every single drop.

“You taste fucking amazing, tsxepvi. Maybe next time, if you apologise and behave, you’ll actually get to cum.”

And with that, he was gone, living you an empty, horrified mess, as the high came crashing down violently and the consequences of the last few minutes replaced it to lead you in a spiral of mixed thoughts and feelings, each one more terrifying than the last.

'Cause I am lost, but not in you Yes, I am lost, but not in you

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katiexpunk · 7 months

Text

Heat Wave | Pairing Javier Peña X fem!Reader

Summary: In the sweltering haze of a Colombian heatwave, everyone's on edge, including you, your nerves fried crispier than plantains in a hot skillet. Even Javi is not immune - his nights spent tossing and turning, the relentless heat driving him mad. Imagine his surprise - and yours - when he knocks on your door late one night, a little buzzed and sweaty, craving a distraction. What's a generous soul to do but let him in and share some cool, sweet cholado? As the night unfurls, the heat outside might be unbearable, but inside, things are just starting to warm up.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI. I say this with love -- GTFO.

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Javi wasn't super nice to reader and has to gravel a bit, female masturbation, references to the cartels, use of pet names (Hermosa, Cariño), emotions, reader cries, sweat, fingering, female stimulation, face-fucking, blowjob, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up, don't lead by my written example), direct p in v, pussy slap, somewhat rough sex, sensual sex, creampie, and cum eating.

Authors Note: Eek! This is my first time writing for Javi, so be kind to be hunnie bunnies. Joel will always have my smutty heart, but damn, Javi can fucking get it. Special thanks to @sydneyinacoma for being my personal hype woman on this one, and to @josephquinnswhore for telling me this premise wasn't total trash. Ily bbs.

Also I often edit after I post (hello typos) so if you saw one originally sorry 🫣

The window is wide open, but the curtains aren’t moving; only offering a slight flutter now and again, offering a deceptive promise of a breeze that you know will never come. You lay there, restlessly, the cotton sheets sticking to your damp skin. The eerie silence of the room was punctuated by the whirring fan overhead, its blades churning the stale, hot air in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. It’s nearly midnight, hours since you’d gone to bed, but yet, you find yourself staring at the ceiling, cursing why you ever decided to move to Colombia. Had you known it would be the hottest summer on record, you might have thought differently and denied the job.

You turn to your side, annoyed at the hair clinging to the back of your neck and forehead like velcro. You stare at the alarm clock on your nightstand, watching the numbers slowly change, like a shitty version of trying to count sheep, but there’s no point. You’re wide awake, and there doesn’t seem to be anything that can change that.

You roll onto your back to splay out like a starfish, hoping the gap between your limbs will somehow offer you some reprieve from your burning core, and you stare at the ceiling. You wonder if you’ll actually get any sleep tonight. The heat was enough to keep you awake, but there were other things that would probably prevent you from dozing off if the heat weren’t a factor.

Outside of the thud of your own pulse, it’s completely quiet in your apartment. You’re sure people are awake, but no sound comes from Steve and Connie’s apartment next door; nor from Javi’s. Odd, you think, considering work has been slow as of late and most of Colombia, even the cartels have hidden themselves away from the relenting sun and suffocating humidity, too tired to do anything substantial.

In your haze, eyes transfixed on the ceiling panels above you, you try your best to think about something else, anything but him, but your last conversation replays in your brain like a bad rerun.

You knew he wasn’t really the type to settle down, and you were more than aware of his reputation, yet you let yourself hope that this situation might be different, that you might be the one to change him.

He had insisted that it was for the best and that he wasn’t the right guy for you; that it should be simple for you to move forward and erase any trace of your connection, and that he should do the same. Perhaps that was the reality of it; maybe it was only you who had experienced a heightened sense of joy during those countless nights he held you close. When wrapped in his embrace, the burden of your conscience seemed to lighten, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had ever found comfort in your presence as well.

Your mind begins to drift to the ways he made you feel like you were the most precious thing in the world. You can still feel his pillowy lips leaving a soft trail of kisses up your neck and across your jaw, cock buried deep inside of you. The memory of it sits low in your belly, adding to the stickiness between your thighs, now a cruel mixture of sweat and arousal.

Your mind swirls with thoughts of him, and you decide that there might be one thing you’ve yet to try that might be able to help you fall asleep. You lay there, trying to focus, to let your mind sink into better days, better nights, ones you had spent wrapped around him in every way possible.

You tease your fingertips along the thin fabric of your tank top, trying to ignore the way the sweat that’s seeped into its fibers causes it to bunch up as you stroke your hand down your sternum. You circle your nipples through the fabric, trying to call forward any sense of arousal or sensuality. You slide your hand under the waistband of your linen shorts and place your hand between your legs, resting it atop your lace underwear, already wet, courtesy of Colombia and your incessant thoughts of Javi.

Your fingers are quite delicate compared to his, and you miss the thickness only he can seem to provide. You slide your underwear to the slide, and drag your index finger through your folds, bringing your slick up to your clit. Your hips lift at the sensation, and you let out a little moan.

You begin to slowly draw small circles, eventually increasing your pace enough to provide a nice mix of movement and pressure. Your restless thoughts of him have you so keyed up, already so close to the cliff of your orgasm you can practically taste it. Your body heats even more as you chase your high, desperate for a release, practically begging for an escape from this inferno. Like a cord about to snap, you swear you’re starting to see stars when you hear it – knock, knock – and the distraction cruelly pulls you back from the edge, your pressure gauge falls, and your orgasm retreats back inside you like you scared it.

No! Fuck.

Now hot, tired, and sexually frustrated, you let out a long sigh. You slide your underwear back in place and withdraw your hand from your shorts. You wipe your wet fingers on the fabric beneath you, gaze at the clock once more, and wonder who the hell would be at your door at this hour. You rise, legs still a little shaky from your would-be orgasm, and walk over to answer it.

Your aggravation at the disruption vanishes the moment you clock his face through the peephole. You unlock the top and bottom lock and release the chain from the door, opening it to completely see him.

He looks like he’s been chewed up and spat out, his hair a disheveled mess of thick, dark, damp curls, small beads of perspiration collecting on his lush, tan skin. You’ve seen him like this before, a look of affliction, hiding behind soft brown eyes. But there’s something else flickering in his eyes – some kind of yearning. For what? You haven’t got a clue. He’s made his stance on your relationship very clear, or at least, the parade of women filing in and out of his apartment speaks volumes.

You lean up against the door frame, waiting for him to speak, to give some sort of explanation as to why he’s on your doorstep.

“Hey,” is all he says, eyeing you up and down, eyes lingering a little too long on your exposed stomach.

You’re positive you must look like a mess right now, but you don’t really care, you feel like one.

“Javi – is everything okay? It’s late,” you answer quietly.

He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them, then shifts the weight from one hip to another, unsure of himself, obviously uncomfortable.

“I know, ‘m really sorry to bother you. Can I come in?” he asks, looking at you with his big puppy dog eyes, and you can’t turn him down. You step aside so he can enter your small living room, hoping he can’t smell your arousal on you, hoping that he’ll assume the musk lingering in the air was just from the cracked window, the outside world seeping in.

Your apartment was rather small to begin with, but with his presence, it seemed to shrink before your eyes. He walks over to the center of the room, and pauses once he sees the couch; a memory of him railing you on it flashes through his brain.

No.

No, he won’t let himself think about that. He swallows the thought, and palms at his jeans to adjust himself. He’s not here for that, he’s here to gravel.

You let out a sigh, and walk over to him. You come to stand right in front of him, giving him the opportunity to commit the sight of you like this to memory – all pretty, skin clammy, cheeks a darker shade of pink than normal. You pause before saying anything, still unsure why he’s here in the first place.

“Can I get you some water, whiskey, anything?” you ask, cringing at how awkward it feels to play hostess with him now, considering he’s explored every inch of your body with his tongue.

Javier shakes his head and runs a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat collecting there as if he’s deciding what to say.

“Mmm, no. Probably shouldn’t have any more whiskey tonight,” he admits. “Some water would be good. You don’t happen to have anything cold by chance, do you? This heat is fucking killing me,” he says.

“Actually, yeah, I do,” you say, your voice an octave too high, remembering your creation earlier this evening. You nod to Javi to take a seat on the couch, giving him a perfect view to watch as you saunter over to the kitchen. You open the freezer and reveal a container with a kaleidoscope of colors. It closes with a thud, and you open the fridge next, pulling from it a bowl of fresh fruit – juicy chunks of mango, sweet pineapple, zesty oranges – and a can of whipped cream. Javier watches intently as you gather it all neatly onto a little tray, glide over to the end of the tiny kitchen to grab two spoons from a drawer, and close it with a quick thrust of your hip.

You place the tray on the coffee table. The couch lets out a little squeak as you find your seat next to his.

“Fresh cholado – made it tonight,” you say, offering him a spoon.

You neatly assemble the fruit on top of the colorful slushy mixture. The sound of the whipped cream releasing its contents onto the top of the fruit causes the hair on the back of his neck to rise to stand.

“Go ahead, dig in,” you say, offering him a kind smile. God, you’re always so sweet and nice to him, even when he doesn’t deserve it.

Both with a spoon in hand now, you delve into the sensory masterpiece, pausing in silence as you savor the blend of textures and tastes, a welcomed escape from the heat.

Javier closes his eyes and lets out a small hum in delight.

“This is so good, holy shit,” he praises, not even finishing with his latest bite before he’s digging in for another.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, and you really mean it.

The elephant in the room becomes harder and harder to ignore.

“Why are you here, Javier?” you ask, voice a little unsure.

His eyes hold your gaze for a moment, and he swallows his last bite and then places the metal spoon onto the tray in front of you both. He doesn’t say anything, instead, he holds out his hand, his eyes pleading with you to take it. You hesitate, before deciding to place your palm in his, allowing his fingers to wrap around yours. He stares at it, the pad of his thumb tracing over the back of it, and he inches closer to you.

Neither of you says anything, but your brows furrow and you look at him, hoping he can see the pain – the hurt he inflicted on you – in your eyes.

“Cariño,” he whispers softly, and you sense the obvious change in his tone. His hand releases yours, and he brings his palm up to land on your cheek. Maybe it was just the heat playing tricks with your emotions, but the simple action causes tears to well up in your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he admits.

Oh god, he already broke your heart once, was he here to just do it all over again? The thought causes your already battered heart to sink into your stomach.

“I can’t pretend like I don’t need you anymore,” he continues, “like you’re not the only thing - the only person - in Colombia preventing me from losing myself,” he adds.

The sudden truth bomb he’s dropped leaves you speechless.

“I —” you start to say, but the broken silence is all it takes before Javi pulls you in closer, hugging your waist, dragging you up onto his lap, your knees straddling him. You try to ignore the uncomfortable press of his DEA badge digging into your inner thigh but secretly hope it leaves a mark.

Fuck, it feels so good to be on him like this again. You shouldn’t feel this way, but you do. You rest one hand on his shoulder and instinctively run the other hand’s fingers through his hair. Old habits die hard. For the first time in a while, you feel a bit of relief; you wager he must feel the same by the hefty sigh that escapes his lips.

“Javi – I don’t,” you pause, your words trembling, “I don’t want to get hurt again,” you say, allowing your hands to wrap around his torso and your head to fall into the crook of his neck. Hot tears begin to spill from your eyes and fall to the fabric of his shirt, the weight of your confession compounding with all of your other frustrations from the evening.

“I know, baby. I just…fuck, I don’t know how to do this. I suck at the emotional,” he admits, gently patting the back of your hair and holding you close to him. He pauses before guiding your face up to look at him and continues, “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I was just scared; didn’t want to get hurt, or even worse, hurt you, but I realize now that I did, and I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. Shit. I just… I need you, I need you more than I need air in my lungs,” he adds, and you hear the break in his voice.

“You do?” you ask, hating how pathetic you must sound, your eyes puffy and cheeks wet from your crying.

“I’ll always be here for you, cariño, if you’ll let me. I know I don’t deserve it, but do you think you can forgive me?” he softly mutters. Seeing you trying to blink away the silent years trailing down your cheeks, he reaches up and swipes away at them with his thumb, and his hand stays there, cupping your face.

You nod yes in response.

Just like that, it’s almost as if everything were still the same; as if it were just you and him against it all. A thought of doubt crosses your mind, one saying this might just be temporary, your heart still unsure if you can trust him, but you allow yourself to cave into the feeling all the same.

He holds you quietly against his chest, the pressure of his strong arm around you is soothing. You feel his cock begin to stiffen under you, and it causes something to stir in your lower belly. God, you want him. It was less than half an hour ago that you were coaxing yourself to orgasm with just the thought of him inside you.

Your chest begins to flush, and the heat your bodies generate together mingles with the warm air in the room around you. You slightly press off of him to find some reprieve from the burning surface of his chest and place your hand on it, his shirt slightly clinging to it as you do.

You lean forward and press a soft, breathless kiss on his lips, one laced with the taste of tears. It’s delicate at first, as if to test the waters of your reunification after so much time apart, but it’s not before long that it deepens; his tongue exploring the recesses of your mouth, your mutual lust boiling to the surface. His hands glide down from your waist to your hips and he grips onto the delicious flesh there, inviting you to grind against him.

Your hips roll on him, and you feel a sudden disdain for the clothing that clings to your skin like a second skin. The fabric is damp and heavy, and with each roll of your hips, it chafes against you. Your eyes tell you that you’re not the only one who’s uncomfortable, Javier’s face in a slight twist, one that screams both pleasure and pain.

“You know, Colombia’s hot enough without the two of us making more of it,” you say, letting a little giggle out as you do, tilting your head back, letting your hair fall behind. Javier trails kisses down the side of your neck and then darts his tongue out to lick the hollow of your throat. The action causes your breath to hitch.

“You’re right, Cariño, we really should do something about these layers, hmm,” he purrs, and you catch his drift.

He releases both of his hands from your hips and helps you lift your tanktop over your head, your perky tits bounce in response and the friction of the fabric on your nipples causes them to stiffen. One of his hands finds its home on your hip, and the other comes to grab your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, the feeling sending a tiny zap through you as he does. His mouth finds your chest and his tongue trails the valley of your breasts before slowly making its way over to the stiff peak of your other exposed nipple. A low, hungry growl leaves his chest, it’s a needy and desperate sound that goes straight to your cunt.

“Javi –” you moan, “clothes,” It’s not a question, but a request, one he’s happy to oblige.

He begins to undo the buttons of his linen shirt, and you watch in anticipation, his stiff cock under you making you impatient. His shirt joins yours on the floor, and you trail your hand down the expanse of his chest, noting the little freckles that pepper it; the small detail drives you to another level of impatience.

You swing your leg over him, feet coming to the floor; a temporary but necessary adjustment so you can step out of your shorts and panties. You stand there before him, happily naked, pleased to be free of your cloth prison. The air is thick and hot, but it feels good to have so much exposed skin for the first time tonight. With his eyes dragging over every inch of your body, you eagerly watch back as his hands come to his waistline and he undoes his metal belt buckle.

You look down and notice his boots are still on; you drop to your knees in front of him and you swear you hear his heart thump in excitement at what you might do. You look back up to lock eyes with him, and you reach down to his shoes and begin to undo the laces of his boots. Fuck, that’s definitely not what he thought you were going to do. With his feet free, his fingers fumble for the button and zipper of his denim jeans, and he slowly undoes them, lifting his hips slightly to let them over his ass as he drags them down, taking his briefs with them, until everything is off his body.

Now both totally naked, you rise to take a seat on him, but his hand darts out to your shoulder as if to hold you in place on your knees. He spits into his free palm, and takes his heavy cock in hand, slowly gripping the length of it up and down. You salivate at the sight, the tip of him is red and weepy with pre-cum.

“I think you look pretty good where you are, Hermosa,” he says, “always so pretty, especially like this,” he adds, still stroking himself.

You love when he uses his Spanish on you, his words sending a surge of desire through you like a bolt of lightning, your body responding with intensity as the sticky tread of arousal pools between your legs.

You inch closer to him, your hands finding his knees, and you gently pry them apart, creating just enough space for you between them. You look at him as if to say let me, and he releases his grip on himself, and you take over stroking his length. You lick your lips and position him at the entrance of your mouth. You place a soft kiss on the head of his cock, and smear the precum that’s gathered there on your lips like chapstick.

You hum in delight as you sink down onto him, letting your jaw relax so you can take him deeper, savoring the salty taste of his skin. He gathers your sweaty hair into a makeshift ponytail and holds it back from your face, allowing you to work him without distraction. And god, you’re into it – the sounds are filthy, but your delighted little moans have Javier unraveling like a runaway spool of thread. You look up at him through your wet lashes and let out a little wink, an innocent act considering your practically sucking his sanity out through his dick and having fun with it.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna have to stop or you’re gonna make me cum,” he says, holding the hair on your head taught as if to warn you to slow down, letting his head fall to the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling as if to think about something other than how good you’re making him feel. You let out a satisfied mew, and release him, a little pop sound fills the air as you do.

“C’mere –,” he says, a little breathless and sweaty. You rise to stand, your knees pink and sore from the ground, and he stands to join you. At full height, you have to look up to see his face, and you feel him grab both of your hips and twist you around onto all fours, your upper body resting on the couch for support. “My turn to taste you, Cariño,” he says, using his knee to nudge you, and encourage you to spread your legs open for him.

With your tummy flat on the couch cushions, your ass is on full display, and he fucking loves it. Using his middle finger, he inserts it into your needy cunt, gently curling it to sweetly abuse your g-spot. The moans that escape your lips only encourage him further, a light chuckle follows when he reminds you that he’s only using one finger and that he’s just getting started with you. He uses his other hand and pushes your hips and ass deeper into the couch, while his one finger stays in place, gently rubbing the spongey texture of your g-spot without breaking, making you squirm under the bare minimum he’s providing you.

You’re already wet, but once he thinks it’s enough, he extracts his finger, and uses his hands to lift your hips up, making you arch your back for him. He crouches down further to plant a tender kiss on your ass, biting into it very dimly, eliciting a little yelp from you in response. He slowly begins to move lower and lower, kissing the lines where your ass meets your thighs. He taps your cunt a few times with his thick fingers, each time getting a bit rougher, sending a stinging sensation through your whole body. The rough taps eventually become a full-on slap, and you move your hips in desperation, a mellow whimper escapes your lips begging him to give you what you need. He flattens his tongue, and moves it across the expanse of your dripping folds, lapping at you like you’re the cold refreshment he needs.

The tip of his tongue finds your clit, and he stays there momentarily to give it a little suck before moving it upwards, licking the whole length of your pussy. He continues to do this a few more times, before finally stopping and focusing his attention on your now swollen clit. You’re barely breathing as his tongue relentlessly pleasures your needy little clit. He brings his forearms onto the back of your ass, and uses his thumbs to spread your outer lips open completely for him.

“Javi – holy fuck,” you moan as he slides his greedy tongue inside you, moving it in and out as breathless moans continue to leave your lungs.

“Taste so good, sweeter than the fuckin’ cholado,” he praises, and you’re nearly gone at his words.

He continues to eat at you, but releases a hand and then brings it back up, under you this time, as his fingers begin to circle smooth circles over your clit once more; your whole body begins to shake, it’s so much. You’re moaning and whimpering at the feeling of both his hands and his mouth on you.

“Come for me – want you to soak my face,” he says, his encouragement is all you need and you snap. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses under his attention. He rides out your orgasm with you, ensuring no drop of your sweet juices goes to waste. Once your shaking has subsided, he lifts his chest and you readjust, bringing your weight to your forearms on the couch.

“Javi, need you, god, please,” you’re all but practically begging for him.

‘I’ve got you baby,” he coos, “gonna give you what you need,” he says as he strokes his cock a few times, and then places the tip at your slick and waiting hole. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it was your fucking job, like it was made for him.

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a song made as a result of your wetness and his thighs, spurs you on. He reaches out and grips the back of your neck, and jerks you backward into him, forcing you to arch your back against him. The new position lets him take you deeper, harder. Holding you against his chest, he snakes a free hand around and his fingers find your clit once more. He makes soft circles on your clit, working you with each thrust until he once again has you climbing the ladder to your climax.

“Just like that, you’re so perfect, Cariño, taking me so perfectly,” he praises, voice low.

You squirm and babble something of the likes of gonna come under him, and he holds in place as you begin to unravel once more for him. Your hole contracts around him, your perky tits bouncing as he continues to fuck you through it. You’re so tight, your sweet sounds have his own orgasm not far off.

Suddenly, without warning he stops fucking you and pulls out. You look back at him, brow creased, wondering why he stopped.

The sight is one you’ll remember till the day you die, Javi all sweaty curls, ragged breaths, hard and throbbing cock in hand, shiny with your slick, looking at you through needy brown doe eyes.

“Why – why’d you stop,” you ask, breathless.

“Turn around, Hermosa. Lay on the couch. Want to look you in the eyes as I cum,” he rasps.

You do as he says, and spread your legs open for him. Within seconds, he’s back on you, filling you up to the base of him. The dark hairs at the base of him tickle your swollen clit as he rolls his hips into you. A tingling warmth pools in his belly and surges through every sensitive nerve on his body, accompanied by the surge of blood that rushes to every corner of his flesh, his response making it obvious that his release is imminent.

His hips slow, and he lets out a rough moan, spilling inside of you. He pauses there, and you feel him gently pulsate and twitch as your walls drain every last bit of cum inside him.

He collapses on top of you, working to catch his breath, an exhausted mix of sex, heat, and general tiredness from the restless night. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and intertwine your fingers around his now full-on wet locks and trace small patterns onto his back. You stay there like that, in your sticky embrace of sex and emotion, until your heart rates return to normal and your breaths find a manageable pattern.

He slips out, bringing with him a glob of cum that pools on the cushion beneath you. He leans back on the other arm of the small couch and watches as he slowly pools out of you. “Mmm, sure do love watching me drip out of you,” his gaze doesn’t move from the filthy sight of it.

He leans forward to drag his pointer finger through your folds, causing your body to twitch at the unexpected sensation on your tender clit. He slightly presses the tip of his finger into you, and his cock twitches and begins to swell like it’s ready to go again. He drags his finger out, now coated with a mix of you and him, and he brings it up to your lips.

“Taste us,” he says. You open your mouth to welcome the cum-coated finger onto your tongue. You savor the taste of the mix of you, an overly salty, heady mix of sweat and semen.

Once satisfied, he removes his finger and leans back once more.

In your fucked out state, you tilt your head toward the coffee table, noticing that the remaining cholado has turned into a sticky, syrupy mess.

“Sad that’s melted, I could really use something cold right about now,” you say as you reach your arms up and try to secure your wet hair into a little bun on the top of your head.

“How about a cold shower,” Javi offers, a smile on his face. He stands and offers his palm to you for the second time tonight.

Without saying anything, and without hesitation this time, you place your hand in his, and he pulls you off the couch and into his arms. His chest firm against yours, he brings both of his palms to cup your face in an embrace. He pauses momentarily before leaning down to place his lips against yours.

“And then maybe some breakfast?” He says, tilting his head to the side, signaling to the window.

The sun is now rising, bringing with it what you can only imagine is going to be another tortuous day.

Well, almost as torturous.

At least now you have each other.

Although you’re pretty confident you won’t be getting any sleep tomorrow night, either.

END

Tagging some moots: @darkheartgatita @elegantduckturtle @alltheglitterandtheroar @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @reddedmiller @morallyinept @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @secretelephanttattoo @ruinmepedro @papipascalispunk @dins-riduur-anthe @untamedheart81 @planet-marz1 @pascalpvnk @elvinaa @joeldjarin @javiscigarette @cavillscurls @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @endlessthxxghts

Oh hey! You made it to the end. Cool. Thanks for reading. Since you're here, I'll pass on a reminder that I'm just a horny little wannabe fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy. Likes and comments are wonderful and much appreciated, but reblogs are really what counts in making people see this, especially for smaller blogs like mine. If you like this, please consider reblogging.

#javier pena narcos #javier pena smut #pedrohub #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javi pena #javier pena fanfiction #narcos #javier pena x you

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sunkissed-zegras · 8 months

Note

🧊 Quinn Hughes 🤭

congrats bb 🥹 so proud of you

THANK YOU SO MUCH BABE, ILY!!!!!!! AHHH<3

here is your angsty blurb lol. unintentionally inspired by 'you're losing me' by taylor LMAO (i was listening to it towards the end HAHAHA). i'm really sorry for this one guys..

you had never felt worse in your entire life, you swore.

when the start of hockey season had begun again, quinn was off on the road while you had to stay at home alone. now usually, you wouldn't mind this ─ travelling had never bothered you until now. quinn was pulling away, you could feel it. when he had come back from the lake house, something changed. you decided to opt out on this year's lake house trip because of work so quinn went alone but when he had come back, he felt different.

he was cold, couldn't touch or even look at you, his gaze felt unloving, something you hadn't experienced from him in your two years of dating. it was so unlike him that you didn't even know how to combat it or even bring it up. quinn had always been a communicator, he never kept in anything especially when it came to you. you were his best friend, he'd always say proudly.

now, it was different. much different.

as you washed the dishes in you and quinn's apartment, you couldn't even focus. today was the day that quinn was finally coming home after a few weeks of being on the road. usually, you'd be happy to see him but you just felt anxious at the thought.

over the last few weeks, quinn had only sent you a couple of messages including a snap, which he's never used consistently until now. he didn't update you on anything and he also never called once within those few weeks. that made you sick to your stomach, anxiety coursing through your veins as you thought of everything that could've happened that could have caused.

you were pulled out of your trance as you heard the front door open. "i'm home," he shouted out. his voice sounded exhausted and as you turned around, so did his face.

he had eye bags and his face was paler than usual, which wasn't really out the ordinary for him during the season. he was so caught up in everything that came with his career, he would forget to take care of himself.

you forced a smile, opening your arms for a small hug. he pulled away slowly after the hug, clearing his throat. "any food in the fridge?"

"yeah, i have some leftovers from lunch. chick-fil-a."

"again?" he mumbled, walking away from you and into the kitchen. usually, his tone would be playful but again, it just sounded cold.

you almost let out a laugh at how much of a bitch he was being, but you were too hurt to. "well i mean, you could've answered my texts asking what you wanted."

"you could've called."

that was when you couldn't let out the angry laugh at his audacity. "i could've called?"

quinn looked unbothered at your outburst, taking out the fries and placing one in his mouth. "yeah, that's what i said. you could have called," he repeated, this time really enunciating the words.

"i did call you, quinn, multiple times over the span of three weeks and you didn't bother even sending me an excuse!" you finally snapped, walking up to quinn and crossing your arms.

he let out an exhausted sigh and you felt a tiny bit of guilt blossom in your stomach. "i didn't have time."

what he really meant was, he didn't have time for you. you stood there almost defeated at how little he was giving. you'd rather be yelled at than treated like a little child. "quinn," you felt the tears brimming in your eyes as all the emotions building up these past couple of months finally were coming out.

there was a flash of empathy in his eyes before his cold demeanor had come back. "i-i'm sorry, i'll call next time. why are you crying?"

he put down the food, coming to your side. his presence still wasn't comforting, it just felt like he was forcing himself to care.

"i just missed you, the real you. the old you, quinn, the one who still gave a shit about how i feel." you sniffled quietly, brushing your tears from your cheeks.

"i do care, y/n. i just don't understand what you mean, the old me? i'm still me."

you looked back at him. his eyes still didn't feel understanding or kind, like they did before. "i know you don't understand." you were truly defeated now, looking down at your feet and sighing.

quinn stood there for a few seconds before sighing, letting his head fall back in exhaustion. he finally retreated to the kitchen, grabbing the food and his bags from the floor as he walked to your bedroom.

that was when you let out all the tears you had been feeling. the tears fell freely now, you sobbed into your hands as you thought about how quinn's distant behavior had you questioning the entirety of your relationship. you missed for the days when you were each other's best friends and confidants, but now, it seemed like you were living with a stranger.

you missed the old quinn, the one who used to prioritize your emotions and well-being. it was as if he had become a different person overnight and you were struggling to comprehend the reasons behind this transformation.

you stood in the kitchen, tears streaming down your face, you couldn't help but question what had caused quinn to change so drastically. was it the pressures of his career or had something else come between you two?

MY 100 FOLLOWER CELLY!

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janaispunk · 4 months

Note

Jana

🌾 - #7 : look at me

These prompts got me having some thots 🥵😂. Ilysm congrats again bb.

look at me

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~0.3k

summary: “you’re gonna be good and clean up after yourself, hm?”

warnings/tags: explicit smut (18+ only!), dom!Dave, sub!reader, able-bodied reader, spit kink, degradation kink, dirty talk, how much filth can i put into 300 words or less really

a/n: thank you for this prompt pam, ily! <3 the thots were strong with this one, what can i say. i’d love to turn this into a longer fic eventually, but the brain said, not today 😌

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @janaispunknotifs if you want to be notified for fic updates 🫶🏻

“Look at me.”

Dave crouches down in front of you, his eyes boring into yours as you lift your head, tears staining your vision.

“Made a mess, did you?” he murmurs, his fingers grazing your face affectionately, but the dark glint in his gaze doesn’t escape you. He tilts your head down to look at the puddle of spit that had dribbled out of your mouth.

“Dirty girl.”

He pulls his hand back and slaps your cheek, the sting making you whine.

“You’re gonna be good and clean up after yourself, hm?”

You feel yourself nodding before your brain has even caught up to his words, your thoughts hazy and consumed by the need to please him, to make him proud.

“Go on then,” he tells you, his voice almost gentle as he pats your cheek once more.

Heat of humiliation burns on your face, but you can’t deny the new wave of arousal that burns through you as well as you slowly bend down, stealing another glance up at his carefully composed face and his dark eyes before you lick at the floor gingerly, trying to collect the cooled down fluid with your tongue and another whine climbs up your throat.

He pulls you back abruptly, making you bend your neck until you look up at him again.

“I said, clean up,” he snarls. “Maybe you need more motivation.”

He spits down onto the ground, adding to the remnants of your saliva, then shoves your head back down. You flatten your tongue against the ground, trying to lick up as much as possible, and hear him chuckle above you.

“Good girl, that’s better. So desperate for everything I give you, you’d even lick it off the floor. Fucking filthy.”

thank you for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment, it means the world to me and really keeps me going <3

#janas fics #dave york #pedro pascal #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #smut #degradation kink #dom/sub #spit kink

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shinestarhwaa · 10 months

Text

INCEPTION || WOOSAN

Inspired by @woosanbby 's little dream <3 ily bb this one's for you!

Happy 24th birthday Sannie!

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Bff!San x Bff!Wooyoung x Bff!Fem Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Tags/warnings: Dirty language, sex dreams, unprotected sex, threesome, m x m action, blowjob, fingering, rough sex, praise kink, abs riding, mentioned rimming (but not really described), mild squirting, double penetration, breeding kink, dom/sub roles are changing throughout the whole fic so it's not rlly specified ig

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @star1117-archives @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @lemonhongjoong @babesindestroyland

ENJOY!

San's hands slid over your waist as you grinded your ass against his crotch. The beat of the music was so loud, it was drowning out your thoughts. Your eyes closed as San's hands roamed over your body.

Wooyoung came up to you again, pouring a shot of a raspberry vodka drink into your mouth. He smirked and attached his lips onto your neck. "We should get outta here."

You held both boys' hands as you walked out of the nightclub, into the night and suddenly before you knew it you were in bed with them. San came close to you and pressed his lips against yours as Wooyoung grinded his hips against your ass.

You reached behind you to grab Wooyoung's clothed cock but...

You sat up straight in bed, panting and pink heated up cheeks. "Wow," you breathed. This was the first time you've actually had a sexual dream about your friends like this.

How could you face them tonight after this?

Stepping out of your bed, you felt the weakness in your knees, you felt the wetness between your legs and even more the lightheadedness in your brain. You sighed deeply and tried to shake your thoughts.

That night you got ready for the birthday party San had planned, putting on one of the sluttiest dresses you owned. San and Wooyoung always encouraged you to do so, though.

"You only live once Y/N, live your life, be a slut!" Wooyoung used to scream on the top of his lungs.

You made sure to put your favourite high heels and jewelry on to finish the look. You weren't shy with the perfume, putting it on your neck, wrists and ankles, a tip you had learned from your friend one day.

An hour later you made your way into San's house, entering the party. "Hey babes!" Wooyoung exclaimed when he noticed your figure. "Wow, you look amazing!"

You laughed and hugged him, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, angel." He looked absolutely stunning tonight. The black slacks complimented his ass and the short-sleeved button up revealed his gorgeous veiny arms. The arms you had such a weakness for.

Suddenly another pair of arms embraced you from behind. A strong pair of arms, that you immediately recognized as San's.

"Hello birthday boy," you grinned as you turned your head to press a kiss on his cheeks. "It's not my birthday yet," he grinned. "Well, it will be in like three hours." You corrected him. "Okay, fair," he smiled. "Let's get you a drink now."

You danced all night with Wooyoung and San, more PG than you wanted to and dreamed about but... it was just a dream, wasn't it? You didn't truly wanna get in bed with your best friends right?

People started leaving by the time it was 2 or 3am. Soon enough you were alone with them and you danced with San as Wooyoung waved goodbye to a friend.

"It's your birthday now, isn't it?" you grinned. "It sure is now!" "Happy birthday, sweetpea," you grinned as you pressed a kiss onto San's lips. It wasn't necissarily intentional to kiss his lips, but it happened naturally. Wooyoung who had just walked in gasped and laughed.

"Did you just kiss him?" Wooyoung laughed. "I just ... congratulated him. Why? Jealous?" You laughed, trying to fade away the awkwardness. But San did not feel awkward, he felt lust. His hands ran over your hips, the way they did in your dreams. "What if I am?" Wooyoung stated as he walked up to you.

"What is this, some kind of glitch in the matrix?" You mumbled as you noticed the younger male lick his lips, looking at your body. "Why don't we give San a birthday present he'll remember?" Wooyoung smirked. San's cheeks flushed at the thought, and his hands tightened around your hips. "Yeah? Do you wanna celebrate my birthday?" He said smirking.

Before you knew it you were upstairs in San's bedroom and Wooyoung was unzipping your dress as you and San made out against the wall.

"No bra baby?" Wooyoung smirked as he slid his hands over your bare back, silky skin smooth under his touch. He cupped your breasts from behind and tweaked your nipples slightly, making you moan in the kiss with San. You broke the kiss and started to undress San, falling to your knees as soon as his cock had sprung free from his boxers. San laughed, smirked. "Eager to suck my cock, sweetie?"

Wooyoung started to undress too, revealing his hard length as well. Unexpectedly, he got down on his knees as well, right next to you. San licked his lips and ran his hand through your hair. "Go ahead, then."

You brought out your tongue to lick at his tip. Wooyoung's head dipped lower, starting to lick at and suck on his balls. You sucked on the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around the head and into the slit.

San hissed and threw his head back against the wall. "Fuck, you little... sluts for my cock," he moaned out. "So fucking good for me." His moans made you wetter than you could ever imagine, spurring you on to take more of his cock in your mouth. You sucked and sucked until you couldn't breathe. You pulled off his cock with a loud pop, heavy breathing filling the room.

Wooyoung switched with you, taking San's cockhead into his mouth while looking up at him. San looked down and locked eyes with him and started to breathe faster and more irregular. "That's so fucking good Youngie, good boy, suck my cock," he groaned.

Wooyoung started to bob his head up and down more eagerly, clearly turned on by San's praise. You ran your hands over Wooyoung's body, peppering kisses from his neck to over his shoulders and back.

Then you got up and kissed San passionately until you ran out of breath. San swallowed the taste of himself from your tongue. You slid off your panties and stuffed them into San's mouth while holding onto his wrists, so tight so he wouldn't move them. He could, but he didn't, because he understood and obeyed.

You kissed and sucked on his neck while Wooyoung still worked on his rigid cock. San's moans were muffled by the lacy panties stuffed in his mouth. He swore he was gonna go crazy just by these panties.

"You like that hm? Wanna keep those as a souvenir? To jerk off into? To smell? Such a little pervert," you smirked as you played with his nipples. San whined and bucked his hips into Wooyoung's mouth, making him gag on San's dick.

"Fuck, such a good fucking boy," San mumbled through the panties. San noticed he was getting close so he tried to signal, but he was restricted in every way so he just whined and moaned until he spurted his cum into Wooyoung's mouth. Wooyoung let go of his cock and smirked as he watched is soften but grow hard again when he felt your breasts against his body.

You pulled him off the wall, took the panties out of his mouth and pushed him onto the bed, making him smirk at the sight of you taking control. "You're not the only one who's cumming tonight, baby, you can't always be the main character." San pouted. "But it's my birthday, you know?" "Well you should see us cumming for you as a present," you said as you seated yourself on his abs.

"What are you-oh."

You started to grind your wet pussy against his abs, whining as your clit touched San's warm sweaty skin. "You're suck a fucking fuckdoll," you breathed, "so fuckable I could just cum all over you because of your abs, hm?"

"Fuck baby, that's so hot," he moaned out as he propped his legs up. Wooyoung saw this as a chance to spread his asscheeks and run his tongue over his hole. "O-oh my Goodness, what are you-"

San moaned when he felt Wooyoung's tongue working magic while you kept on riding his abs. Your breasts came down to San's chest with every thrust of your hips. "Fuck you look so good, please, cum on my abs, that's so hot," he moaned out.

"Yeah? Want me to squirt all over your body hm? Well you're gonna get it baby, so watch closely."

You grinded against him like the end of the world was near, feeling the familiar heat in your stomach. You grinded until you felt you were cumming, releasing and squirting over San's abs. San moaned and gasped, lightly touching your sensitive clit as he spread the wetness.

He removed you from his body and laid you down, pulling Wooyoung up as well. "Fuck her," San ordered him. You smirked as you looked at Wooyoung, who was mesmerized by your wet pussy.

"Let me finger her little whole first, San, don't be too greedy."

Wooyoung spread your legs wide and slid 2 of his fingers in there with ease. You cried out his name and closed your eyes. "No, no, keep your eyes on me," he smirked. The man groped you all over, playing with your tits as he sucked on your neck and fucked you deeply with two of his skillful fingers.

"You like that, don't you?" He said smirking as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. San bended down to fixate on your unoccupied breast, sucking and licking your nipple and nearly trying to take your entire breast in his mouth.

"Fucking adore these tits," he moaned while his mouth was full with them. "L-let me do something before you fuck me, I wanna see something," you breathed out, getting an idea after you felt the wet panties in your hand.

Wooyoung and San pulled away from you, looking at you curiously. You guided them to sit on their knees across from each other and only a few seconds later their lips were attached to each other.

You smirked and tossed your panties between their bodies, landing on their cocks. Their tongues swirled together into a sloppy makeout as they began to grind their hips against one another, cocks rubbing together against your panties.

They moaned into each others mouths, hands groping all over each others bodies. You smirked as you laid down, hand between your legs as you watched the two men grind their dicks. "This is so fucking hot, you two... Are you gonna cum? Gonna cum on each other? Gonna cum on my panties?"

It didn't they long before they did exactly that, coating your favourite pink panties white with their hot cum. They panted heavily and looked at you as you watched them with the biggest smirk on your face.

"Gonna fuck me now, Youngie? And Sannie? Don't you wanna fuck me too? I can take it," you challenged them. Their hungry eyes told everything you needed to know. Wooyoung laid down and you got on top of him.

You sunk down on his hard length, whining as you felt the stretch of his thick cock inside you. "Oh god, so thick Youngie, so thick," you groaned. You felt San's hands on your hips as he positioned himself behind you, pushing his cock into your cunt, sliding against Wooyoung's.

"O-oh, so long, so deep," you whined out when San started to thrust in and out of you at a fast pace. Wooyoung groaned as his hips bucked up into you, hitting all your favourite spots.

"Yes! Like that, that's so fucking good," you moaned loudly as your nails clawed against Wooyoung's pumped chest. "Please! Harder!" You begged, and San quickly obeyed and fucked you as hard as he could. The bed was shaking and squeeking nearly as loud as your moans were, it made you think they'd actually break it.

"God, yes, yes, just like that! Fuck me deep! Fuck me hard, fuck your fucking seeds into me, fill me up!" You moaned loudly. "Yeah? Wanna get filled hm? Want your best friends to fill your hungry cunt?" San breathed in your eyes.

"Yes! Want you to fucking fill my pussy, breed me until I pass out, want you to breed me so bad!" You cried. Wooyoung rammed his cock inside you and was the first one to cum, filling you with his hot white cum. San powered through and thrusted until he got sloppy, releasing his seeds inside you as well.

The three of you stayed like this for a while, filling you with cock and cum, just the way you like it.

"Happy birthday to me," San smirked.

#kpop #ateez #smut #san #oneshot #wooyoung

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whiskeynwriting · 1 year

Note

hi there liv! 💞

firstly, as i’m sending this to you you’re currently sick and have been for a while, and it makes me sad seeing you not feeling your best :( wishing you a speedy and thorough recovery! 💌

second, i wanted to request a reader-specific piece. i know you’re super busy with all of the other wonderful things you’re creating, so as always take all the time you need <3 i’d like to request one about crying during sex. personally, it’s never the case that i’m upset or in pain or anything of the like - it just feels like a bodily function i can’t suppress. whether sex is rough or gentle, and even when i’m by myself, i do it regardless. and it’s like full-on crying - tears, sniffles, the works lol. i’ve tried to fight it but it doesn’t end up working and makes the experience less enjoyable because i don’t feel like i’m able to let go completely. it can understandably concern some people who aren’t warned beforehand, so i’d like to request something where the partner is aware of what will happen and that it’s not anything that they’re doing wrong (to be completely honest i actually cry more the better it feels lol!) it’d warm my heart to read about a partner who isn’t fazed by it but doesn’t necessarily ignore it either if that makes sense. you could even write about a partner who possibly has a kink for it lol! recently i’ve been fixated on joel miller and marcus pike, but any pedro boy will do! <3

whew sorry for the oversharing haha :/ i hope you have fun creating something for this! and again that you feel better soon 🫶💓 ily

Thank you so much for your kind words love, I appreciate you ♥️

Reader-Specific Writing: Tears

Joel Miller x Female Reader

◆

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) please read these warnings thoroughly, as there may be triggering aspects written here.

Brief mentions of insecurity, established relationship, dirty talk, praise kink, dacryphilia, unprotected vaginal sex, established relationship, aftercare and fluffies

◆

A/N: I am returning to my reader-specific pieces! I never really left them, just got crazy busy toward the end of last year. But now they’re back in full swing, and so are my general requests (: enjoy bbs

◆

Reader-Specific Writing Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

There were many faces Joel offered to the world, most of them unkind. Your lover was a mean man; he was rugged by nature, stubborn and rough. And he was good at getting what he wanted because of this. He was resourceful and knew how to think on his feet, to make calculated moves in a quick manner. And these traits weren’t suppressed when it came to you. Most of them, anyway. While the world knew Joel Miller as an intense and intimidating man, you knew him as a kind one. Kind and gentle and warm. He could relax around you.

When it came to you, things were different. It was easy to see how much you liked it when he was gentle. And gentle, could he be.

“That’s so good, honey.” He’s holding your hip, but only with one hand. The other is wrapped around your chest, palm settling on your shoulder. Leaning in, he brushes his forehead against the back of your neck, nuzzling into you. And he moans when he does it, his lids closing peacefully.

Joel’s naked body is currently surrounding your own, the hot skin of his chest pressing against your back. The covers are drawn up to your hips, shifting slightly with each of his thrusts. And with your knees bent just a bit, you allow him in easily, hands holding onto his forearms as he moves against you. Your backside is slotted perfectly against his pelvis, your skin connecting every time he slides back in.

Feeling Joel’s body like this was always an intimate experience. His soft lips trailing down your neck, the scruff scattering his cheeks and jawline ticking your skin. And he always holds you so sweetly, those strong arms wrapping around your body.

Tonight, it started from a look. He’d gotten back from a patrol, tired and in need of rest. What he really needed was sleep, but when he saw you, his mind changed. You were in the kitchen, the radio on and playing a quiet tune. The past few days had been stressful. He did his best to provide for you; for the most part, he didn’t want you going outside of the house, and especially not on patrols. So, when he came home, he was always happy. Not just to see you but to find you safe and cheerful. It makes him feel like he’s done his job.

“You scared me.” Came your small giggle, feeling Joel’s arms wrap around you from behind.

A small, muted grunt was his response, lips gentle as they found your neck. But then he speaks.

“What’re you up to, honey?” He was caressing your sides, squeezing your hips every now and then. And it would have been a sweet and innocent moment if you weren’t wearing a pair of boy shorts and one of his shirts.

“Trying to make some food.” Your voice was sweet, and it urged him to relax against your body. “We don’t have much.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Tilting his chin down, he kisses your shoulder. His shirt was so big on you, it slid onto your upper bicep a bit. “I’ll get some soon, okay?”

You only nodded, asking him, “How was today?”

“Rough.” That deep voice made you shiver, along with the slow movements of his hands. Trailing down, they cover your backside, fingers reveling in how soft it is. And then he mumbles into your ear, “Better, now.”

One of his favorite ways to relax at the end of the day was holding you, being close to you. It made his mind calm, made the wild storm inside his head dull to quiet, soothing waves. And at this point in time, he could feel you were tense, stressed about your current situation. You hadn’t adapted as easily as him. And this new world hardened you, much like it did him.

So, he took you to bed, holding you from behind while you snuggled into him. His hand roamed beneath your shirt, finding the bare skin of your hip, and traveling further. He cupped your breasts, massaging them both while his breathing steadied behind you. It wasn’t long before he was pulling down your underwear, keeping them looped around your lower thighs while he rubbed his steadily rising erection against you.

“Mm,” A small gasp escapes your lips, mouth opening as you moan.

His thrusts are deep and slow, dragging against your walls. And he can feel you starting to relax, the muscles in your body loosening. Finally, he thinks. You’re letting go - he knows what’s coming. And he wants it.

Reaching down, he removes your underwear fully, wanting you to be comfortable. But he keeps your shirt on, pulling it up enough to press his chest flush against your skin.

“Let go for me, baby.” He’s breathing against your ear, that southern accent making your body shiver. “C’mon, I know you want to, honey. Let me do this for you.”

It’s your tell, your physical reaction to his body. And you’ve done it before with other partners in the past but no one has ever made you feel as safe as him. Before, you’d release tears. But with Joel, you’re sobbing.

“Baby,” Your voice breaks, your quiet wail forcing a smile to crack across his face.

Rocking back against his body, you gasp, unable to suppress this all too natural feeling. Leaning forward, Joel cranes his neck to view the side of your face. And that’s when he sees the droplets rolling down, a profound groan emanating from his chest.

Tenderly, he pushes you forward so you’re on your stomach, his sturdy body pressing you down into the bed. He keeps his chest against your back, pelvis rolling down against your ass. It’s passionate and heated, his moans becoming much more prevalent.

The pleasure is so overwhelming that you can’t stop the flow of it, the wetness rolling down your cheeks. And what makes it even better is that you feel safe enough with Joel to do it, to truly let go and allow your body to experience this fully. And Joel loves to see it, fucking revels in it. Before you, if a partner of his cried in bed, he’d be mortified. He’d assume he did something wrong, of course, and worry would plague him. But he knows you well enough to know that isn’t the case. At this point, he’d be worried if you didn’t cry. Just like when he came home to find you happy and carefree, it makes him feel like he’s done his job, and done it well.

“J-Joel,” Gasping, you let go of his forearm to fist the sheets, the hand still on his arm clinging tightly to him. “Joel.”

“Oh Jesus, baby,” The thick girth of him continues to split you open, aided by the wetness of your arousal. You’re so wet that it’s leaking down your thighs and onto the fronts of his, and he loves the feeling of it. Another physical tell of your attraction to him. “Look at those pretty tears…”

Looking down, he can see the pillows growing dark and damp from the constant flow, your sniffles sounding so sweet and cute beneath him.

“You sweet little girl… you feel good, honey? Does it feel good?” Leaning in, he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, his mouth and scruff tickling your ear.

“Yes,” Nodding rapidly, you cry out for him. “Yesyesyes.”

Gently, you rock back against him, moving in sync with his motions. The way your body moves makes him groan, his lips lowering to find your shoulder. His sweet kisses quickly turn into soft nips and sucks, littering your skin with marks of his love.

“Oh, baby.” He breathes, pulling out of you in one slide. “C’mere.”

Easily, he flips you over, immediately diving between your legs. Within seconds, he’s returning to your warmth, a broad hand lifting to cup your face. Leaning in, those plush lips find your cheek, kissing the wet trail of your tears. It’s fervent and hurried, planting quick kisses all over your face. And it makes you whine quietly, weeping beneath his overt affection and genuine love.

“My sweet baby,” Joel murmurs, continuing to kiss the salty drops. His deep voice sends a shiver through your body, your hands sliding up his chest, over his shoulders, and along the column of his neck, until your fingers tangle into his graying hair.

Joel bounces his hips forward and back, mouth sliding down to your neck. His chest presses to your own, the firmness of his a contrast to your soft curves.

“I love you.” Inhaling a sharp and deep breath, you release it with a quiet cry.

“I love you, baby.” Your lover returns, his words spoken genuinely. “I always have, always will.”

The wetness from your eyes continues to spill over your cheeks, your nails scraping across Joel’s scalp while tangling your fingers into his hair.

“But honey,” He then says, that rugged voice now gasping and grunting beside your ear. “I need somethin’ from you.”

“Baby?” You ask, turning to rub the point of your nose over his cheek. “What? What do you need?”

“I need you to cum for me.”

“Mm.” Tossing your head back, you release a passionate whine, his words sending a powerful wave throughout your body.

“Oh, I need it.” Joel gasps, moaning for you. “I need it so bad, wanna feel it, baby. Can you do that for me?” Looking up at your pretty face, he uses his thumb to wipe away your fresh tears. “I know you can.”

“Baby, more.” Comes your quiet beg, reaching out for him. “Deeper, please.”

Joel’s lips part with a groan, his face diving down to the crook of your neck, but not before dragging his lips across the apple of your cheek. He rests more of his body weight against you, his hips driving forward at a much firmer pace. It’s diving inside you, the thickness of him, his tip pulsing against the spot you’d been begging him to reach. And he knows when he’s hit it, because your legs are wrapping around him, your body is shaking beneath him.

“J-Joel,”

“You’re okay,” He coos, kissing your neck. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Within the warm cocoon of Joel’s arms, your body finds its release. Arching your back, you cling to him, the wetness of your emotions rolling down your skin. It falls to your neck, allowing Joel’s tongue to swipe them away, offering small kitten licks while he fucks you through your high.

It takes over your body, your throat going dry from the sounds you release. And he only allows himself the same pleasure when you’re nearing the end of yours, when your hips are no longer rutting up against his, when your eyes open to look lovingly at him. That’s it, it’s the pretty look, that look that’s so sweet and welcoming. He lifts his head intentionally, searching for this cue. And when you give it to him, he’s crashing his lips down to you.

Now, it’s your turn to hold him, to feel the stuttering jerks of his hips between your legs. You keep your thighs wrapped around his waist, holding his face and kissing him through it. His forceful groans vibrate to the back of your throat, his hot breath fanning over your mouth and face. And it makes you feel whole, seeing him like this, being one with him like this.

“Sweetheart,” When Joel speaks to you like this, just after he’s spilled inside you, he’s always so soft. His voice sounds light and airy; peaceful, almost. “My baby…”

Curling his hand beneath your head, he holds you, giving you one last, firm kiss. And then his face is by your neck again, each of you cuddling into the other’s embrace. Sex with Joel was always like this, so intimate and passionate - spiritual. You felt like you were meant to find him.

“You’re such a sweet girl for me.” He praises, kissing the exposed skin on your shoulder. When he realizes you’re still wearing his shirt, he grins.

“Only because you’re so gentle with me.” Your reply is soft, muffled slightly as you kiss his head.

You don’t have much, but it’s the best there is to offer. You’re only allowed to wash your clothes maybe twice a month, and still, he cleans you with a rag whenever he’s finished taking you. He wets it lightly and refuses to let you do it. And before you go to the bathroom, he insists you sit long enough for him to get you some water, too. After all, you do lose a small bit of fluid throughout the entire ordeal. It’s not much, but it’s the best he can do for you. And Joel’s best is more than enough.

By the time you’re back in bed, the day has grown late, the outside world lit dimly by dusk. Joel is already beneath the covers snoring, but when you crawl in beside him, he wakes just enough to scooch closer to you. Facing him, you nuzzle into his chest, now completely naked. You wanted to feel his warmth. And in his sleepy state, Joel wraps both arms around you, making sure the covers are over both your body and his. Just before drifting off again, he kisses your head, mumbling sweet nothings to you. Most of the time, they don’t make any sense. But they make you smile, nonetheless. Joel worries daily about whether or not he’s done his job with you. Whether or not you’re safe, whether or not you feel happy and cared for. The word precious isn’t delicate enough to describe you, it doesn’t sound important enough to describe you. All he knows for sure is that you’re his. Despite witnessing each and every one of his flaws, you’ve accepted and chosen him. Him. And he’ll spend the rest of his life making sure that was the right choice.

#Joel Miller #I love you #genuinely #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller tlos #The Last of Us #The Last of Us fanfiction

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delcakoo · 9 months

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i’m sure most ppl expected this so i’m not gonna make a big deal out of it but!! yes i am going on hiatus for an unspecified amount of time.

it’s honestly quite simple, i’ve just been losing interest in most aspects of kpop aside from the music, which makes writing for it a lot harder than before. i also dealt with a lot of burn out for months and still forced myself to write which only made it worse. lastly, i’m an executive of two clubs at my school this year on top of all my classes, so finding time to write would be even worse than it was before :’) !

YEAh that’s kinda it! for now my works will stay up, moots can dm me for my disc/spotify!! even if we’ve barely spoken pspsps i wanna stalk ur music cmere 🤲 a special shout out to my emoji anons too, you’re all amazing people ilysm, especially those that have been stuck with me for so long <3 (u know who u are!!)

i’ll try and check in here every so often to chat, esp if a new comeback for enha/txt happens!! love u guys and stay safe <3 you may send an ask if u have any questions!

extra stuff i wanna say to moots below! (it’s all word vomits i’m sorry)

RAVEN. MY WIFEY. my BELOVED blr wont let me tag u but you already know i adore u sm playing roblox with u is so fun even if that one banana game was kinda ass!! 💖 thank u for being so so sweet when putting up with me all the time and raising our fav corgi daughter with sm love <3 i hope u get more confidence in ur writing because your fics are always so creative and well written, and in yourself too bc a certain mf thats name starts with J and ends with N is MISSING OUT. 🙄🙄 ok im still gna be annoying u all the time so. bye ig….. smooches

@seongclb katto u deserve an award for putting up with me in dms ilysm 😞 watching the promised neverland together brought me so much joy and i still have a ss of you calling gilda a tractor ok i love u!!!! i would read your fics all day any day u are so talented and ur photography skills are amazing, i hope we get to keep in touch WE SHOULD FIND ANOTHER SHOW TO WATCH TGTHER !!!!! i need to fix your lack of anime knowledge ‼️ PLS KEEP WRITING AS WELL ENHABLR NEEDS U!!!!

@soov reirei my gf i aspire to be as confident and funny as you, you’re literal sunshine and always make my day better even with just one interaction <3 thank u for being so welcoming my first days in walmart enha and raising sushiwon with me!! as well as entertaining me by dying in genshin every 3 seconds <3 (WE NEED TO PLAY AGAIN) oh and KEEP WRITING BB. i will rise from THE DEAD WHEN IT COMES OUT OK U CAN DO THIS ML!!

@haknom kangaroo karaoke keys we may have had only a few convos but they were all so fun like PLAYING BRAWL STARS WAS HILARIOUS we ate the house down in duo showdown idc. and beta reading ur fics was such a treat esp while watching u plan new smaus every other day 🫶 also your music taste is MUWAH gimme some more recs pspsps !!! KEEP WRITING OKKK?!

@kynrki kimmy kimmy kim one of my first ever moots <3 your writing is always such a joy to read and your energy is amazing, thank you for giving me a chance when i was too shy to ask anyone else to be moots LMAO 🫶 plsplss keep writing you’re so gifted and deserve the whole world LOVEE UU

@bitehee cavvy my big sibling :((( i love u sm kshsdknd its been a while but i really hope everything has been well since you moved and you’re still being as cool as ever <3 im gonna replay a pokemon game in ur honor perhaps mystery dungeon 👁️ ? anyway i look up to u and think u are so cool, one of my fav hee stans ever ever!!! remember u have my disc if u ever wanna chat 🫂 !!!

@sunoksunny sunny <3 my other gf. i remember our first vc u had this goofy pfp i cant remember what it was but like u are so easy to talk to and funny?! and PRETTY??? your fits are always stunning and your singing is beautiful ugh the whole package fr… and. we need. to play. genshin!!! I REDOWNLOADED IT FOR U OK WE WILL DISCUSS THIS SOON!! ILY

@slytherinshua ZANNY. u are so easy to talk to we match each others energy so perfectly?!? I HOPE U AND TUALHA CONTINUE BEING THE COOLEST EVER and ur writing is top tier so pls keep going‼️ thank u for being so sweet to me as another one of my very first moots i appreciate u sm <3333

@flwrshee riri !!! we haven’t even been moots for long but i had to add u in here because u need to know that ILYSM. you’re like an adorable energetic little sister that always makes me smile T-T thank you for taking time out of your day to reblog my fics with so much sweet feedback and i wish u the absolute best always!! if u ever need anything pls dm me on disc i would love to chat with u more, and make sure to keep writing bc u have SO much talent!!!!

@wonieleles sia SIA i genuinely miss talking to u sm i NEED to come back to walmart enha :(( we don’t talk much besides our little interactions in the server but each time you make me smile. you’re so so smart and admirable, i hope you keep up the hard work bc i know you’ll go so far and HAVE MORE CONFIDENCE!! you’re so beautiful okay ily 😞🫶

@sultrybaby kel 😭😭😭💖💖 you’ve literally been a day one THANK YOU for always checking in on me even during your ridiculous NONSTOP EXAMS. 💀 another one of my big siblings on here fr you are such a real one and i care for u sm!!! i hope everything has been well for u?! pls feel free to message me for anything okay <3 I LOVE U SM thank u for sticking with me all this time 🫂🫂

i have so many moots so i can’t write smthn for everyone but i love u all okay <3 AGAIN if u wanna keep in touch thru spotify or discord dm me muwah

#delcakoo #so anyways… uh who watched the barbie movie!

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silverhairsimp · 2 years

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Hajime Iwaizumi x reader

Here's my submission for @hanmas When Nobody's Home Collab (I AM SO SORRY IT'S SO LATE).

CW: MINORS DO NOT ENTER! 18+ stepcest, panty sniffer!Iwa, panty thief!Iwa, noncon, somnophilia, vaginal fingering, oral (f.receiving), car sex, unprotected sex, creampie, jealous stepbro!iwa, alcohol consumption (all characters written are in their last year of college and over the age of 21). Let me know if I missed anything in the tags/warnings.

WC: 7.7k (AND IT IS GOOD TO BE BACK!)

ALMOST FORGOT. SHOUT OUT TO @weebaboobs for beta reading for me 🧡 ily bb

Summers home from college always mean the same thing: coming back and being forced to live with your step brother as if the two of you are in high school again, fighting over a shared bathroom and waking up every morning right across the hall from one another. It’s as if nothing’s changed since those first few weeks of living together after your mom and his dad decided to tie the knot. Tensions were high and neither of you thrilled about no longer being the only child. Never being able to shake the feeling as if you can’t escape each other’s presence no matter where you went in the house.

Except one thing has changed…

His friends treat you differently now. Before, you were just Iwaizumi’s little sister. Someone they loved to pick on, constantly snickering at the way you’d get upset over their incessant teasing, always talking about you behind their back.

But now? You’re no longer the wing-spiker’s little sister… you’re you.

A mature, young woman that grew very nicely into her body; filling out each and every curve perfectly.

So it’s no surprise that his friends are at the doorstep of your family’s shared home almost every day, suggesting beach trips or pool parties. Hell, even backyard movie nights - anything to see you in a swimsuit or those skimpy little sleep shorts you were notorious for wearing.

It was so annoying for your step brother, having all of his friends fawn over you like that. And Iwaizumi never understood… Oikawa has a parade of girls following him everywhere, so why is he so infatuated with you? Matsukawa’s no better - Iwaizumi was sure you had heard the rumors about him and all he has to offer, convinced the pretentious ass just wants to prove to you that they’re true.

So, when your mom and step dad texted that they’d be vacationing in Europe all summer, that meant two things: his friends adamantly trying to spend time with you, and an entire summer alone with your step brother.

There would be no one to mediate the fights the two of you were guaranteed to get into. No one to break the tension between you and your brother - something the two of you have ignored for as long as you can remember. No one to keep his friends in check when they think about getting a little too forward with you. And no one to run to when it all became too much, because no one else would be around.

Your brother returned home before you did, his University ending their semester two weeks before yours. So when you finally pulled up to the house, it was no surprise to see three familiar cars parked out front. You could hear the TV blaring from the driveway as you grabbed your backpack and suitcase and made your way to the front door.

“Unlocked. Of course.” You grumble to yourself and roll your eyes, letting out a deep sigh before pushing the heavy door open.

Their attention on the screen was hardly broken at the sound of the door opening, and it wasn’t until you slammed it shut that everyone turned to you. Well, almost everyone.

Oikawa was the first to jump over the couch: “y/n, nice to see you again. I could help you bring your stuff to your room, maybe help you unpack…?” He was always so forward and nonchalant.

Matsukawa sat with his arm draped over the back of the couch and did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was staring at your tits. You really should’ve known better than to wear a low cut crop top and high waisted jean shorts, which surely did nothing to keep your ass from hanging out.

“Thanks for the offer, but I can handle it myself.” You push past Oikawa, who mutters something about ‘gotta love an independent woman’. You nod your head to Matsukawa who brings his eyes up to meet yours only briefly before going back to checking you out.

Iwaizumi, on the other hand, was still holding the gaming controller and paying you absolutely no mind. You walk over and slap him in the back of the head, “thanks for the warm welcome, asshole.”

He snickers at you and curses, “Look! You fucking made me die!”

To which you respond with a wave of your hand over your shoulder and a “Boo hoo… you were gonna die anyways.”

It was always like this between the two of you: pushing each other's buttons and getting under each other's skin until neither of you could handle it anymore… it was only a matter of who would crack first.

You spend the afternoon taking trips out to your car and back inside, the summer heat getting to you more and more with each trek. Small droplets of sweat roll down your temple and the sinful thoughts that grace the minds of the men on the couch are anything but few and far between. Those thoughts only intensify when you bend over by the front door to take off your shoes, ass on display while you rearrange the ones already discarded there.

With the last bag inside, you head off to your bedroom to start unpacking. There's a bag full of dirty laundry that needs to be washed and a few suitcases that need to be put away. But, after the first one, you’re not sure how much more you have the energy for.

There will be plenty of time later, you think to yourself.

The day is still young, and it’ll be nice and sunny outside for at least a few more hours. You dig through your half unpacked suitcase and pull out a brand new bikini, quickly slipping it on even with your bedroom door cracked open.

You pull a towel out of the hall closet and throw it over your shoulder, purposefully walking in front of the TV and grabbing the attention of three pairs of eyes on your way out to the backyard.

“Gonna go for a swim,” you say, looking directly at Iwaizumi as you take long strides toward the back door, swaying your hips a little more than usual and waiting for at least two of the three men to jump out of their seats and join you.

Oikawa and Matsukawa are quick to follow. There’s not a second of hesitation before they’re shouting a quick “We wanna swim too!” and darting out the door, leaving Iwaizumi inside all alone.

He knew he should’ve waited to invite those two over.. now he’s never going to have any alone time with you. He can’t seem to wrap his head around what he's feeling. It doesn’t make sense: why he’s so irritated. Even with trying to focus on the game, he can’t help the way his eyes flit over his shoulder every time he hears your laugh and the warmth it brings to his chest.

Why is he so jealous of Matsukawa hovering behind you? And the way he takes far too long to rub the sunscreen into your shoulders. Why does he feel so possessive when Oikawa puts a hand on your knee? He shouldn’t be acting like this over his step sister… but, maybe that’s why… you’re his step sister. His. He can’t resist the urge anymore, he wants to be the one to put his hands all over you. He wants to be the one to rub the sunscreen into your smooth skin. He wants to be the one with his hand on your thigh, or perhaps pinning you down underneath him and holding you open by them instead.

Iwaizumi grumbles to himself, sick of his own self pity, and finally gets up, walking down the hall and stopping in front of his door. He reaches out for the door knob before looking over his shoulder. He shouldn’t be turning around and walking towards your room instead, but he is. He pokes his head inside to see the organized mess strewn across the floor. The different piles of clothes, the half folded ones still in your suitcase… but one thing really catches his eye: a light teal g-string sitting right on top of your laundry pile.

He can’t help but wonder if you wore it on your way home, and before he can stop himself, he’s opening your door even further, taking two strides in and picking them up in his hand. He starts to bring them to his face until the sound of the sliding back door pulls him out of his trance. He’s almost positive he hears Oikawa beg for you to stay and keep him company, but his distance from the back door makes it difficult to accurately hear.

Quickly, he shoves your panties into his pocket and makes sure to leave your door cracked the same amount as when he first went in.

He heads back into his own room and pulls out a pair of swim trunks, officially deciding that he wasn’t going to let his friends have all the fun with you. He pulls your panties out of his pocket and shoves them inside his pillow case for safekeeping and throws his comforter over the top. He tosses his shirt in the hamper just as soon as you appear in the doorway of his room:

“You really shouldn’t change with the door open, never know who could be watching…” His cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink at the insinuation behind your surprisingly seductive words and he turns around before his body gives too much away.

The way you lean against the door frame: arms crossed and wearing hardly anything, the curve of your hips and your smooth legs… it's like you’re begging for his touch. The idea of running his hands all over your body stirs something deep within him - something he’s not quite sure he’s ready to give in to and acknowledge yet. His brows furrow as he looks over to the secret he’s keeping under his pillow, and he can’t help but think how you’d look standing in the doorway in that same teal g-string. He clears his throat but refuses to turn back around to look at you, “thought you were going swimming.”

“I was, but then I thought about how boring it was without you there. Issei and Tooru can only keep me entertained for so long,” a heavy sigh leaves your lips, “just wanted you to come out and join us for some real fun.” And with that, you push off the door frame and make your way back outside, disappearing down the hall without another word.

Iwaizumi mutters those words back to himself, real fun…? What the hell could you mean by that?

The rest of the evening is spent by the poolside, laughing, drinking, exchanging stares with your step-brother that say so much, yet so little at the same time. By now, you’ve lost count of the numbers of beers that the four of you have gone through, as well as the number of pickup lines Oikawa has seemingly “blessed” you with. If you had to take a guess, the numbers are pretty evenly matched.

With your buzz starting to get to you, you head inside to get some food, thankful that there were plenty of leftovers still in the fridge. You pull out a dish, grab a plate and set it in the microwave to heat up. Your elbows rest on the cold surface of the counter as you aimlessly scroll through your phone, catching up with social media and responding to text threads letting your friends know you’re back home for the summer.

You wouldn’t’ve heard the sliding door being shut even if you were listening for it. Too encapsulated in that little device to notice that your step brother had come back inside to check on you.

And he is definitely checking on you.

Watching as the thong of your swimsuit rides up even higher with each sway of your hips. The way your legs and ass flex everytime you rock from your heels to your toes. He can’t bring himself to say anything, not when the only thoughts in his head are filthy ones of you.

He tries to mask the disappointment on his face when the timer goes off and you move to grab your plate out of the microwave. Out of the corner of your eye you finally notice him. “Oh, hey Haji, how long have you been standing there?” your eyes meet and you can’t help but notice the little red tint in his cheeks, wondering if it's from the alcohol or maybe something else…

“Just walked in actually, wanted to let you know the boys are staying the night.” He says as he rubs the back of his neck, squinting his eyes just a bit to try and get another peek at your hardly covered body without making it too obvious.

You laugh and shake your head, “I’ll make sure to lock my door tonight then.”

He laughs nervously along with you and asks himself, would you lock your door if it were just him? Would you purposefully leave it cracked in hopes he’d come in? He considers tampering with the lock, guaranteeing himself some sort of access if he ever wanted it… and fuck, does he want it. He supposes he’ll have to wait until the next time he gets to spend with you alone to find out.

Time seems to pass by exceptionally fast after the four of you had called it a night. Freshly showered and with the rest of your stuff put away, you poke your head out of your door once more.

Just across the hall, you can see the subtle glow of your brother's TV through the crack of his door. Muffled laughs and not-so-quiet gaming taunts reach your ears as your step brother and his friends continue their night away from you.

You chew on your cheek and shift your feet where you stand, debating whether or not you should actually lock your door tonight... It couldn’t hurt to leave it open, could it? Would it really be that bad if one of them were to come in during the night? Especially if there was a chance that the one was your step brother…

–

The next day went by much faster than you’d planned. The morning was spent with your face buried in the same text thread from last night, making plans with your friends to go out to a new club that had opened while all of you were away at school.

All of the boys kept to themselves until right before you were getting ready to go out. Since your step brother was so considerate to have company over, you invited your friends to get ready at your place.

He thought that a good nights sleep and some advil would be enough to sober up his thoughts of you, but he can’t fight off the sudden feeling of irritability he has. He doesn’t want you to go out with your friends and he doesn’t want his friends here. Having you alone is the only thing crossing his mind, and the fact that he can’t have that frustrates him even more. You don’t belong to him… he shouldn’t be so selfish as to not let you go out with your friends. But there’s a part of him that thinks you should belong to him.

He now sits on the couch with his knee bouncing and his shoulders raised to his ears in frustration at the music that’s playing far too loud in your room and the obvious amounts of alcohol you’re already consuming.

It was always the fucking same, he thinks to himself with the palms of his hands pressed to his eyes. You get way too drunk and call him in the middle of the night begging to be picked up. There’s no way he’d let it happen again - not this time. But when you finally reappear in the entryway of the door, all frustrations he had suddenly disappear when he sees you. Maybe he won’t let you leave at all.

Everything about you makes his head spin: the way your hair’s styled perfectly, and the fact that your dress is entirely too short for anyone's eyes but his. He can’t even consider tearing his gaze away from your smooth legs and how toned they look flexing in those heels you’re wearing.

But before he has any time to protest, you're already offering him one last smile as you walk out the door.

He flops back on the couch with a dramatic huff, staring at the ceiling as he thinks of all the ways this night could possibly go.

Even with his friends keeping him occupied at the house, he can’t help but check his phone every 5 minutes looking for updates from you. The occasional snap chat notification comes through, but it’s nothing personal to him.

It’s shameful, really, how many times he has to excuse himself to his room or the bathroom just to replay the video on your story. The way you hold your phone above you, getting the perfect angle to capture your body in that dress, showing off the sway of your hips for the camera.

Were you doing this for all your friends on social media? Maybe for yourself? Or was it for him?

He’s lost track of the number of times he’s swiped up to respond to what you’re posting. But nothing seems right to say. He can’t be too forward, unaware of what you want, or what you think of him… but most importantly, he’s your step brother! He shouldn’t be having any of these thoughts in the first place…

The minutes turn to hours and he comes to the realization that he really just needs to sleep it off. Whatever it is. He pads off to his room, leaving Oikawa and Matsukawa on the couch with their half eaten boxes of pizza and empty bottles of beer.

For the first few minutes, Iwaizumi lays on his back looking up at the ceiling, so many thoughts running through his mind, but he can’t decide on any to dissect. He wonders what you’re doing right now and who you’re with. Are you with your friends still? Or is someone else taking up all your time?

He picks up a pillow and smashes it against his face, holding it there for a second as he tries to figure out why he cares so much about anything you’re doing tonight. His eyes slowly start to drift shut, too tired and confused to think about this any further, until something else catches his attention.

He lifts the pillow off his face and digs inside the case, pulling out the little piece of clothing he took from your room yesterday. With all the time to himself, he brings your panties to his nose and inhales deeply. His eyes shouldn’t be rolling to the back of his head at your scent, but goddamnit, why did you have to smell so sweet?

He’s got half a mind to use them to get himself off, but he can’t ruin them. He’ll find something else to get off to later. Maybe you’ll even help him with it?

It’s almost 2 am when the sound of his phone vibrating against his night stand wakes him up. He rolls over, smirking at your panties he still had wrapped around his fist before reaching a hand out to flip his phone face up to see your caller ID. His first instinct is to answer, but he told himself he wouldn't do this again. He won’t come to your rescue, especially when he has all these thoughts to sort through.

He hits the decline button, flipping his phone face down until his room goes dark again. He pulls the covers over his head in an attempt to resist any further temptation, and that's when he hears it:

Ringing interrupted by a wave of text messages:

Haaaaaajiiiiiii

I know its late

I’m so so so ssorry

Can you pleeease come pick me up :((

By the time he actually answers the phone, he’s ready to tell you to quit bothering him and find your own ride home. But, those words are caught in his throat when he hears a voice on the other line. One that doesn’t belong to any of the friends you left with, or any one he knows.

“Just come home with me sweetheart… Y’don’t need anyone else t’come n’get’cha…”

He can’t believe he’s actually considering coming to get you. “Damn y/n, haven’t even been home a few days and already you’re planning on going home with strangers?” He huffs a laugh on the other line like his words were meant to prove something.

“Shut up! That’s why I called you…” your voice sounds desperate. So needy. He finds it cute.

Iwaizumi is too quiet for far too long on the other line, so you speak up again, “Would you prefer I call Tooru or Issei instead? I’m sure they’d come get me in a heartbeat… on second thought, maybe i will go home wi–”

He cuts you off before you can get another word out, “’m on my way.”

You hang up the phone with a grin on your face, not even sorry to be telling the stranger you won’t be joining him tonight.

The whole drive over he can’t help but think about what would’ve happened if he didn’t answer your call.

There was no way he was gonna let you, his sweet little step sister, go home with some asshole that only wanted one thing. And for fucks sake, his friends? If only you knew the things they said about you - the things they wanna do to you, he’d never admit it but, most of them he’d like to do to you himself…

Iwaizumi had every intention of ignoring you, but when you mentioned them, and when he thought about anyone else having you tonight, it made his stomach turn.

It was only about 20 minutes before Iwaizumi was pulling up to the curb outside the club. He opens the door to his truck with gritted teeth, trying to compose himself at the sight of some random guy's arm still slung around your shoulder and his face far too close for comfort.

He opens up the passenger side door, “y/n. Let’s go.”

You take a few steps toward the truck, only to be pulled back by your hand, “C’mon baby, you don’t gotta go with him.”

Quickly retracting your hand as you pick up the pace and make it to the door he’s holding open for you. As soon as you take that step up into the truck, Iwa makes sure to move behind you to block the view before you flash anyone still watching. Maybe he selfishly wanted that view all to himself.

Once he’s back in the car, the ride is quiet, neither of you saying much of anything. There’s a soft clattering of your heels being taken off and dropping to the floorboard. Your head is spinning, from both the alcohol and the unspoken tension that's filling the car right now.

Instead of saying anything, you lean your head against the cool glass of the window and pull your feet into the seat. Thankfully there’s just enough room to tuck them under the middle seat that’s folded down to separate you from your step brother.

You don’t remember being this tired, but after situating yourself, the quiet hum of the engine and the music playing in the background is enough to lull you to sleep.

Iwaizumi does his best to keep his eyes on the road, but as soon as he hears you take that deep breath and let out a little hum, he can’t help the way his focus shifts towards you.

He watches the slow rise and fall of your chest and the way your tits strain against your dress. His eyes follow down where your dress is cinched at the curve of your waist until his gaze lands on something else… something much more interesting than anything else on the road.

He’s sure you hadn’t realized it, but when you pulled your feet up you exposed a completely different part of your body. Something that he’s been dying to see for as long as he can remember… Peeking out of your short dress, is your pretty little pussy, covered in the thinnest lace he thinks he’s ever seen.

Without even thinking twice about it, he reaches for the folded seat in the middle and lifts, now creating a perfect bench in the front seat of his truck. He couldn’t bring himself to pull his eyes away.

It was no wonder you had some random guy hanging off of you all night. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to contain himself had he seen you like this earlier. This was exactly why he had to step in, no one else was, or is, going to have you.

It was wrong, he knew it was, but he almost didn't have control over the way his hand stretched out toward you. His thumb rests on the underside of your ass, gently spreading you apart as tries to get a better look at the outline of your puffy lips.

If it weren’t for the upcoming stop sign, he’s sure he would’ve kept his attention between your legs. Perhaps he should be thankful for the stop sign in the middle of the night with absolutely no one around…

With each second that passes, he can’t help but think about how you feel, how you taste… He knows your guys’ house is only a few more minutes away, but no matter what he does to distract himself and get the two of you home, he can’t pull his focus away from you.

He turns the air conditioner up just a little higher and the music up just a bit louder. Even tries to fidget with his phone, but he can’t. It’s no use, not when you’re here… like this.

Your legs begin to shift a little bit just as he passes the house and he doesn’t want this to end, so he keeps driving. Wanting to keep you asleep so he has time to sort out these thoughts in his head and the aching in his pants.

Once you’ve fallen back into a comfortable sleep, he reaches out to you again and settles a hand right on the side of your thigh. His thumb circles the bottom of your ass, each stroke threatening to go lower and lower until he reaches the edge of your panties. The closer he gets to your core, the more he can feel heat radiating from it.

Can you feel what he’s doing to you? Do you like it? He wishes he could bring himself to wake you up and ask you, but he can’t. Not yet.

He inhales deeply and grips the steering wheel impossible tight as he lets his thumb trace along the edge of the lace. His exhale comes out shaky, he's not sure if it’s because he’s nervous or because he knows how wrong this is. It’s probably a combination of both.

He drives like this for a bit: making slow turns down poorly lit roads, keeping his hand in place and working his way a bit lower every few miles. There’s not a single car in sight as he approaches another stop sign.

He presses gently on the breaks and rolls to a stop, his focus is right where his thumb rests against your skin. He puts his truck in park, but keeps the engine idling as he takes in another deep breath before moving his thumb across your slit.

The touch ghosts over you, hardly even there but he feels you. The growing wet spot starts to show, even with the darkness of night surrounding the two of you. He repeats the motion and adds more pressure with each deliberate drag of his thumb.

The slick building up on his thumb only makes him want more– more of this and more of you. He spreads the wetness up your slit and circles your clit through your panties.

“Hnngh– H-Haji-me…”

He freezes when he hears you mutter his name… but your eyes are still closed when he looks over at you. There’s no way his thoughts can be right, but there’s no other explanation. You think about him too, he convinces himself.

Part of him wants to wake you up so you can both enjoy this moment, and the other wants to see how much he can get away with while you're still asleep.

For the first time, he pulls the fabric between his fingers and lays his eyes on your bare cunt. Strings of slick still connect your lower lips to your thong as he pulls it away. He’s surprised you don’t wake up once the rush of cool air from the ac hits you, but he’s not complaining one bit.

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly at the sight of you, he mutters a soft fuck before he licks his lips. Wanting nothing more than to dive in and eat you out like he’s been wanting to for months– hell, years!

The temptation is hitting him full force as he spreads your lips open with two fingers. Your clenching little hole practically begging to be filled by him. He thinks of all the things he’d do to you: the way he’d take it nice and slow, starting off with one finger, then adding another, maybe one more after that. Maybe he’d prep you, but he’s living for the thought of stretching you open with his cock and as much resistance as possible with how tight you’d be.

He wonders how greedily you’d suck him in, how politely – or pathetically – you’d beg for more. His thoughts are short lived once you start to shuffle around again. Mindlessly rubbing your thighs together before you crack open your eyes and look at him.

Iwaizumi should be ashamed and embarrassed that he’d practically been caught touching you like this, but he's almost relieved. Relieved enough to finally see the way your eyes roll to the back of your head once he gets the chance to bury his fingers knuckle deep inside of you. Relieved to finally be able to hear that pretty voice telling him what makes you feel good and where you need his touch.

He starts to pull his hand away, thinking maybe the two of you should talk about this or at least acknowledge what he’s doing. To his surprise, and your own, you reach out to grab his wrist, keeping his hand in place.

“Haji… did you want something?” you’re clearly giving him a chance to answer honestly but he’s almost frozen. Unsure what to do or say until you pull his hand even closer.

He clears his throat and rubs a finger up and down your slit, just like he had before you woke up. “Yeah… I uh– you. I want you.”

“Mmm, me? What about me?” you’re teasing him and he’s almost getting impatient. He’s had a hard on since he first saw your thong peeking out from under your dress and the teasing is making him even more impatient.

“Why don’t you sit up and come over here for me? I’ll show you exactly what I want.” He's already this worked up, he can hold out for a bit longer…

You shift in your seat and spread open your legs before settling on your knees in the middle. A large hand grips your inner thigh as his fingers trail further up until his hand is cupping your pussy under your dress.

“Y’know how many conversations Oikawa and Matsukawa have had about you? How if they were your step brother… you’d technically not be related by blood so it wouldn’t be weird to fulfill all the fantasies they’ve had about you… I’m starting to think they’re onto something.” Rough fingers press even harder against you and by the way you pull your dress up even further, to a point where it's bunched around your waist, he can tell you’re on the same page.

“You think about touching me? Doing all sorts of dirty things to me, hm?” Your hands play with the shorts strands of hair right above his ears and his eyes start to close as he leans into your touch.

“Most of my thoughts are about you. It’s real fuckin’ annoying.” There's a smile on his lips when he says it. He knows that he’s more so annoyed with the fact that he hasn’t been able to do anything about it, but that’s all about to change right now. “You know, you were mumbling my name in your sleep… guess i’m not the only one who thinks about my step sibling.”

There's a wicked smirk on his face and your cheeks start to redden, he thinks it’s a good look on you and he wants to fluster you even more. “Want me to keep touching you like this?”

You nod your head in response, but that's not good enough. “Use your words, or else I stop.”

“Please… don’t stop. Want you to keep touching me.” You pull your hands away from his hair and bring them to your waist. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your thong and willfully pull it off yourself.

You shift back in the passenger seat like you had before, pulling your knees to your chest and tugging your panties down until they’re hanging around your ankle. You raise your foot in front of his face, allowing him the honors to completely remove them from your body.

He takes them off with a smirk before looking at you and quickly shoves them into his pocket. “Oh, I know you took my panties before…” you smile at him and bend your knees before opening your legs. “The teal g-string… I used to wear that pain to all your games, y'know.”

There’s a redness in his cheeks that you hadn’t seen before. He starts to think about all the games you’d been to over the years, and each time you worse those. “Gonna keep these ones too then, start my own collection.”

“You’re such a pervert…” you say the words but you don’t mean them, not when you’re sitting in the front seat of his truck with your legs spread wide open. There’s a silence between the two of you as he tries not to look down at your perfectly spread legs and what lies between.

He can’t fight it off anymore when he sees your own fingers start to rub little circles around your clit. “I always thought your fingers would feel so much better than mine… wanna help me test that theory?” Now you’re the one with the smirk on your face.

He squares his body to face yours, shifting just enough to where his hip and forearms rest on the seat. “Happily, but I've always wondered something too… wanna taste you first.”

You don’t have anytime to process or oppose the offer before he’s finally diving in between your legs. The flat of his tongue dragging all the way up before his lips wrap around your clit. The sudden pressure forces your hands into his brown roots and you don’t hesitate to tug roughly. Eliciting a groan from him that makes your legs shake.

“’S so fuckin’ good” he growls into your pussy. You taste even better than he could’ve ever imagined.

If it wasn’t for his hands keeping your thighs in place, your legs would surely be threatening to close around his head.

Every whimper and moan of his name from your lips is a dream come true. He never thought he’d be able to hear it for himself, and now that he has, he never wants it to stop. He’ll sneak into your room every night from here on out just to bury his face in between your legs if it means getting to hear you, and taste you like this.

“H-hngh! Haji, your fingers.. Please…”

You certainly don’t have to ask twice before he’s burying one finger inside of you. Curling it expertly as if he’s known that sweet spot all his life.

He keeps his lips wrapped around your clit as his finger moves in and out of you in a slow drag. Pushing against your g-spot before pulling out and pushing back in again.

“More. Gimme more. Please…”

Fuck you sound so cute when you beg like this. He’s almost worried his words come out of his mouth instead of keeping them in his head. He wants to give you more, but not another finger. He wants you around him now. Your tight walls hugging his cock instead of his fingers.

He pulls back before shifting in the middle seat, his mouth is slick and glistening with you all over his face. “You want more? Come get it yourself.”

Even with all the tension, he’s still pushing you. Still playing into this little game, trying to see how far you’re willing to go.

Your eyes are glossy and your mouth hangs open, but you move. Getting exactly what you want as you straddle your legs over his lap. Needily rocking your hips against his.

He’s gotten himself so riled up that he’s not sure how much longer he can last. You steady yourself by holding on to his shoulders as you lower your lips to his neck. You can feel his jaw clench as he leans away from you, giving you all the access you want.

Little kisses are pressed along the column of his neck until you reach his jaw and move your way across. You hadn’t realized how badly you wanted to kiss your step brother until his lips were right in front of yours.

Your eyes meet for a brief second before there’s no longer any space between you. There’s a hum when you taste yourself on his lips and he thinks about how your lips really are as soft as they look.

His hands are on your hips before he hooks his thumbs into his own sweats, trying to tug them down until you get the hint. When your hands move in to replace his, he snickers against your lips, “greedly little thing aren’t’cha?” He puts his hands back on your hips and lifts you just enough for you to slide his sweats and his boxers down to the middle of his thighs.

“Fuck– if I woulda known you were so eager for my cock, I would’ve done this so much sooner.”

You don't offer any response, too focused on the leaking tip of his cock that's poking out between your legs.

You spit in your hand before lowering it to wrap around his length, stroking him a few times until you can feel the weight of it in your palm, “t’s big…” He smirks at you before slapping your ass roughly, grinning even harder when he can feel the skin ripple in his lap.

“You can take it… I know you can. You wanna be a good girl for your big brother, right?”

You nod your head before moving your hips to line him up at your entrance. His tip is angry and leaking, he’s really not sure how long he’ll last once he’s finally inside of you.

There’s a little resistance when his tip pushes inside of you and he throws his head back, internally telling himself that he made the right decision by only using one finger earlier. The feeling of your walls around him is suffocating in the best way, squeezing him tighter than he’s ever felt with anyone else before.

The only thing on his mind is molding you to the shape of his cock so it’s the only thing you know.

His head feels dizzy the lower you sink down and he moves a hand in between your bodies so his thumb can rub tight circles around your clit to ease the stretch. Little whines leave your lips with the added stimulation but it helps the last few inches slide right in and you’re fully seated on his lap.

Your breaths are shallow and shaky and he wants more, “Rock your hips back and forth for me… c’mon, you can do it.” and you do, without question. You’d do anything for your big brother, even ride his cock in the front seat of his truck in the dead of night.

He removes his hand and leaves a hot trail up your body with his fingers. Tracing the swell of your ass, over the curve of your hips to the dip under your breasts until he reaches your shoulders. He reaches for the thin straps still resting there and tugs them down.

You turn your face into his touch and shrug your shoulders, helping ease the strap even further down until your top half is no longer covered. Man is he thankful you weren’t wearing a bra. He’s not sure he wouldn’ve had the patience to take that off without ripping it to shreds.

“Fuckin’ perfect…” he whispers against your skin as he pushes your dress even further down so the whole thing bunches around your waist. He groans, finally able to fit both of your breasts in the palms of his hands.

With each roll of your hips, your clit rubs against a neatly trimmed patch of hair at the base and your back arches further into his touch. His hands are greedy, twisting and tugging at your nipples while his tongue licks a fat stripe between the valley of your breasts.

Your hands are just as desperate. Holding on to the hairs at his nape as if it was the only thing keeping you upright. The way you push his face even deeper into you doesn’t go unnoticed either.

“Haji.. want more, please I–”

He chuckles against your skin, he could get used to the sound of your voice when it’s so needy for him. “Gotta tell me what you want more of… or else I can’t give it to you.”

It’s so embarrassing, how much he’s making you beg for him. “Want you to go harder.. Need to feel it..” You try to lift your hips up and back down but he doesn’t allow you much room for any type of movement.

He pulls one of your tits into his mouth and sucks eagerly on your nipple, rolling it harshly between his teeth before circling his tongue around it. He keeps his mouth put before moving his hands to your waist and lifting you up just enough for half of his cock to come out.

He snaps his hips against yours and repeats the motion. A loud shriek fills the cabin of the truck before you're reaching behind him. Your hands find the back of the seat as you steady yourself while he bounces you on top of him, thrusting his own hips to meet yours and make his movements even more intense.

There’s an incoherent babbling falling from your lips and he's not sure if it’s from the alcohol you consumed tonight or if you’re just cock drunk from how he’s fucking you right now. He hasn’t had a drop of liquor and he feels his own vision start to blur onces your walls start clenching around him.

“F-fuck! You feel s-so good Haji–! More! More!”

His grip on your hips is impossibly tight and he feels as if he’s about to burst any second. He fucks you hard and fast, trying to get you to come undone before he does, but it’s too much. You’re hugging him too tightly and he can’t last another second.

He does everything he can to lift you off of him so he has time to pull out, but you fight against his hold and settle your full weight into his lap. Burying him to the hilt as he cums right inside of you. Rope after rope filling you up. There’s so much that it’s starting to leak out and fall into his lap.

You sit in his lap with your forehead pressed to his shoulder as you try to regain and steady your breath.

“You’re fuckin’ filthy… letting me fill you up like that…”

You laugh against his skin before pulling away to look at him. There are beads of sweat above his eyebrows and a few rolling down his temple. Your delicate fingers swipe over them, wiping them away before smiling.

“You woulda had a mess all over your truck… we wouldn’t want that. Plus, it would’ve been such a waste…”

All he can do is shake his head, trying to wrap his thoughts around everything that just happened. The internal battle he was having with himself earlier finally finds some revelation. He got to have you all to himself. Really have you.

He’s not sure where the two of you go from here, but he’s not willing to give up everything he’s just had a taste of. He’ll find a way to keep his little step sister taken care of.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you and he pulls your straps back up and over your shoulders before he taps your thigh twice, signaling for you to climb out of his lap. He checks the time on the dash and he knows the two of you need to get back home.

“Can you take me home and fuck me forreal?” If it weren’t for those big doe eyes you’re giving him, iwaizumi would have snapped back with some snarky comment or flipped you over in his front seat and taken you right there.

“If I fuck you forreal you’ll wake the whole block up. Not sure Issei and Tooru would tolerate you interrupting their beauty sleep,” he claps back at you.

“That’s fine, maybe they’ll wanna join too…”

“You’re really in for it now.” Who would’ve thought his step sister would be the fucking death of him.

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gardenerian · 4 months

Text

tagged by darlings @deedala and @darlingian for this delightful weekly tag game ✨ let's get introspective on a thursday morn'

Name: mel

Location: nyc bb

Astrological Sign: aquarius ♒

What's a TV show or movie you plan to re-watch this year? it's only a matter of time before the bbc pride and prejudice miniseries shows back up on my screen tbh and i am always down for a downton abbey rewatch! also @lizisodd has inspired a probable OC rewatch soon

Whats a book or fic you will probably re-read this year? brideshead revisited is basically a quarterly reread at this point. i also want to reread some of my nonfiction faves and reinvest in my history reading.

What is a song you will likely continue to play on repeat? baby queen's new album and also petey's new album! continuous since like. november, and not an end in sight 🫡

What's a tasty treat you look forward to eating more of this year? any treat will do at this point. i am pretty sure i would commit crimes for a donut right now 🍩✨

What's a time sink that you will continue to sink time into this year? i would like to revisit my time sinks, actually. tumblr, writing, maybe giffing again? i'd like to branch out a bit and try some new things, maybe gif other movies/shows as well and annoy you all further 😇 i feel like it's time to at least try to recommit to the things that make me happy.

Did you pick up any habits in 2023 that you plan to continue? i resumed my long meandering walks this year and i definitely want to keep that up. i love just poking around my neighborhood and saying hi to all the dogs. literally every other habit can stay in 2023 tho tbh

What's your toxic trait? isolating myself so no one thinks i am Bad and Stupid ayyyy

What is a coping mechanism you will continue to indulge in this year? uh. well. hopefully none of the ones i have been practicing lately. we're about to make some serious moves on that. i've been trying to talk more, though, so let's go with that?

Tell me something you like about how you look! oh no. ummm. i had my hair and makeup trial for my wedding last week and i actually quite liked how it turned out. so i guess i like airbrushing lmao i have also been told i have nice shoulders alskdfj

Give me at least three adjectives describing things you like about yourself. hmmm. i am kind and i am sweet, i think. are those the same thing? i am struggling to think of a third thing that isn't also a toxic trait lmao UMM. i have been funny? sometimes i am funny?

whew! getting real here at 11:03 AM! i am not sure who has been tagged or completed this already - but it's been ages since i have gone all in on a tag game so please accept this wave hello and a kiss blown right to your foreheads: @gallawitchxx @heymrspatel @howlinchickhowl @whatthebodygraspsnot @metalheadmickey @whatwouldmickeydo @heymacy @crossmydna @palepinkgoat @rereadanon @sickness-health-all-that-shit @too-schoolforcool @xninetiestrendx @mmmichyyy @thisdivorce @energievie and anyone else that wants to do a lil reflectin and lookin ahead 🥰 ily

#the theme for 2024: reinvesting #revisiting #re....everything #no pressure asdkh #tagged

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idyllic-ghost · 1 year

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gas station donuts; jongho x reader

request: bee bunny bagel beloved!! i have come bearing ateez request since you said you wanted some hehe 👉🏼👈🏼 from ur prompt list what about 2 & 7 with jongho? (btw ur prompt list is SO cute what!! definitely not stealing that /j) hope ur day has been amazing ily (from @housewifehui)

prompts: 2. "It wouldn't kill you to smile" 7. "Is that my shirt?"

synopsis: you have a midnight craving, and you know just the reliable person who could get you what you wanted.

warnings: none

a/n: just a short blurb, kind of an open ending but i think it's nice! thank you for the request bb

word count: 4.5k

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

There was a knock on your door. Your heart started racing, more and more the closer you got to the front door. Just to be sure, you looked through the peephole. It was him. You opened the door and there he was. Jongho's black hair was a slight mess - like he had tried to fix it but didn't have enough time.

"Hi.", you grinned.

"Here are your donuts.", he sighed and handed you a brown bag, "Could you tell me a bit earlier next time? I had just laid down in bed when you texted."

"Sorry, Jongho.", you snickered, "And thank you, I appreciate it. Do you want to come in?"

"As long as I get the comfortable spot on the couch.", he hummed, walked inside, and kicked off his shoes.

"You big baby.", you said and followed him inside.

You put the donuts on the coffee table and went to the kitchen to get two cups of tea. When you got back to your living room Jongho had made himself comfortable with a blanket on his favorite side of your couch.

"I made you tea.", you smiled and Jongho groaned in response, "Here you go."

He accepted the cup, his eyes traveling up and down your frame like he was inspecting you. After some time something seemed to click in his brain.

"Is that my shirt?", he questioned, "I thought it looked familiar."

"You forgot it here a few weeks ago.", you sat down.

"So you're a thief?", he smiled.

"It was on my property.", you shrugged, "And it's comfortable."

It was one of his hoodies. A grey one with some sort of print, you didn't look closely enough. It was warm, and it smelled like him, that's the only thing you really cared about.

"So... what kind of donuts did you get me?", you reached for the brown bag.

"The pink ones.", he answered, "And a powdered sugar one."

"You know me so well.", you giggled.

"They taste like shit, you know? You can get better ones at a real bakery instead of a gas station.", he sighed and started drinking the tea.

"But I like the gas station ones.", you said, "It's nostalgic."

Jongho was looking at you with a gaze you couldn't quite place. There was something about him that made you feel all warm and fuzzy. You leaned your head on the back of the couch. He was looking back at you, not smiling.

"It wouldn't kill you to smile.", you said.

"Why would I smile?", he scoffed, "You dragged me out of bed to get you bad donuts."

"They're not bad!", you gasped, "And I didn't force you to do anything!"

"You practically did!"

"I just asked if you could get me the donuts.", you pouted.

"Well, I can't say no to you!", he proclaimed.

You paused and looked at him, but eye contact seemed to be too much for you right now. Instead, you looked into the donut bag and pulled out a powdered one. To avoid having to say anything else, you bit down into the soft, fried, dough.

"You're making a mess.", Jongho sighed and sat up.

He leaned towards you and wiped his thumb over your cheek, right by the corner of your mouth. You grabbed his hand before he could pull it away.

"What did you mean by that?", you asked, "That you can't say no to me."

"It means what it means.", he shrugged and pulled his hands away.

You sighed and put the paper bag on the table again. It slouched, looking like a deflated balloon.

"Do you know why I like these donuts?", you asked.

"Why?"

"I was at that gas station when I had broken up with my ex.", you sighed, "He left me there, and I didn't have anything on me except for a bit of change. I used it on a payphone to call you, and you came just like that. I don't know why, but it had to be you."

Looking over at him, you noticed he was staring intently at you. He remembered, you knew he did.

"You went to get me, I was waiting in an aisle in the store.", you recalled, "And you found me. Instead of making a big deal out of it, you bought me donuts. You didn't say 'I told you so' or make me feel bad for waking you up in the middle of the night. We ate donuts together while you drove me home."

"You got powdered sugar all over my car.", he hummed.

"Jongho", you whispered, "Thank you."

"You know I'd do anything for you.", he admitted and grabbed your hand, "... why did you text me tonight?"

"Honestly?", you took a deep breath, "I just missed you... and I wanted donuts."

Jongho laughed and sat back in his comfortable place. The two of you looked at each other. There was a thickness in the air, but it wasn't suffocating - only surrounding. Warmth... love.

"Keep the hoodie.", he said suddenly, "You look nice in it."

"Thanks.", you smiled.

I love you. You wanted to say it so badly, but now just wasn't the time. Instead, you were just going to enjoy the moment. You could tell him another time.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #jongho #jongho scenarios #jongho x reader #jongho fluff #ateez jongho #atz fanfic #atz x reader #atz fluff #ateez

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soleilnomoon · 11 months

Note

Hi again! Still absolutely adore your Kid fic from your last event 💜 Never got around to asking for a Sanji one, so here I am again😅 But seriously, congrats on over 550 followers!! Love seeing your blog grow, cause you’re really talented and deserve them all and legit can’t wait til you hit 1k+ 🥰

For the event order, may I please ask for a #1 with my boi Sanji, with anmitsu, konpeito, and keylime pie and with honey, please? 🥹 i hate this but need some sanji angst 😭

I also dunno if these three would work particularly well together for a prompt, so you can choose whatever! just really feeling angst and sanji rn and maybe comfort if you’d like 🥰

Thank you for all your works you’ve done so far 💜💜

hiiii omg haha i loved that fic fr (i'm obsessed w that man!!!) also ily for requesting sanji i don't write him nearly enough 🥰️ but thank you sm!! 😭 making me all soft and i am so so sorry this took forever, as u know i am so slow but!!! i had fun tormenting sanji w the angst ngl 💓💓💓💓 also those were great choices for the prompt, i wanted to write more but it would've been 8k words before i finished and who has time for that (i do, but listen... that's besides the point) ✨

2k words, fem reader (honestly gn too now that i think abt it), sfw (SHOCKING i know), 18+ mdni, a lil bit suggestive but nothing wild, angst angst angst city babey, fluff if you squint, also i gave u comfort bc u deserve it bb 💗(and sanji does too); feat. sanji being in denial forever and ever, mutual pining, fake unrequited love, reader is determined and sanji is a coward; also i made myself sad writing this but a good sad bc sanji deserves happiness and i'll fight oda if he doesn't get it i s2g... (if u see grammar mistakes/spelling errors... no u didn't 💗)

“loving each other began this way: threading / loneliness into loneliness / patiently, our hands trembling and precise.” — yehuda amichai

STEP 01:

what does it take to kill a soul? —

a question that’s posed unironically, without a hint of remorse or tact, the words precise and venomous, slicing through the thick veneer that he’s carefully crafted. he’s never been able to answer that question — not at six years old, not twelve or fifteen, and not at twenty-one. his siblings took pleasure in taunting him with seemingly philosophical questions, ones that clamped down onto his thoughts with heavy shackles.

even after he’s extracted himself from that life, he can’t scrub those memories from his mind — no matter how hard he tries. they sit, still raw and bloody, giving rise to unpleasant emotions that make his stomach churn from so many things left unsaid. he never set out to be a pirate, but piracy has given him the sort of freedom that he could only wish for as a child.

it’s with tender hands, with nimble yet graceful fingers, and with a fastidiousness that puts him in a category of his own, that he creates and creates and creates —

he’s told he’s an artist, which only pushes him to work harder, to be better. and when he asks himself why, he doesn’t have an answer. or, rather, the answer he does have only serves as a punishing reminder that he’ll never be good enough. no matter how many times his crew mates thank him — their emphatic, genuine praise a soft, warm breeze against his heart, gentle caresses that he commits to memory — despair still manages to infiltrate, a darkness choking out what little light he has left inside of him.

STEP 02:

how far are you willing to go to reach the truth? —

when you join the crew, he’s unnerved by your presence, which is wholly unlike him. usually, he’s able to put on his façade of the flirtatious cook, one that’s jovial and sociable, that lives to serve and please those around him. his first conversation with you ends in disaster; he spills the drink he tried to pour for you, despite your insistence that you are perfectly capable of pouring your own drink — and he knows it’s not out of malice, but it cuts into him all the same.

he tries again and again, bringing you little treats that you only agree to eating if he sits and eats with you; confusion eats away at his mind, and when he opens his mouth to decline, you pat the seat next to you and he acquiesces. he sits stiffly, at first, unsure of why he always feels on edge around you — an irritating need to impress you in a way he’s never wanted to for others grows stronger by the day.

you think it’s cute that he always seems flustered around you — that he stumbles over his words, refuses to hold eye contact with you for longer than thirty seconds — you also think it’s cute that the false bravado that he puts on for the world, diminishes immediately the second you come close to him. if he’s skittish, it’s because you always catch him staring at you; despite his quick reflexes, his reactions around you are slow but pure — childish, almost.

lately he’s clumsier and scatterbrained, nearly burning dinner when you decide to keep him company. you lean against the countertop, a teasing smile on your face — the same one that that caused him to bump his forehead against the cabinet door earlier — as you prattle on about a dream you had. he can barely keep up, his eyes drifting from the skillet to your face, gliding around the curve of your cheek, dipping lower in a slow descent along your neck.

he blinks repeatedly when he reaches your clavicle, stunned at his restraint; and it’s only when you call his name loudly that he realizes he’s left the heat on for too long.

“are you okay?” you ask when you see that he’s fussing over how best to save the dish, mouth moving as he quietly mutters to himself. he barely registers your voice, as an insidious one whispers harshly into his ears about his perpetual incompetence and lack of talent.

you can see that he’s retreated even further into his mind, a feat that also leaves you frustrated. you want to shake him but refrain and grab his hand instead. he snaps out of whatever stupor that held him captive just moments ago, lips parting as he sighs softly before glancing down at you.

“thank you.”

the words are quiet, but impactful, as he didn’t think he’d be able to get them out. you let go of his hand too soon, but he doesn’t say anything else, choosing to focus on cooking than embarrassing himself again in front of you.

you take his silence as a silent dismissal, but you don’t fight him on it — it’s bitter, that sort of rejection, and you swallow back your argument with great difficulty.

STEP 03:

what’s the difference between cowardice and self-preservation? —

frustration bubbles underneath his skin when he can’t find where he placed his lighter; he runs a hand through his hair and tugs on impulse, accidentally ripping a few strands from his scalp. they swirl and tumble onto the ground, pathetic in a way — just like me, but he never really says that out loud. he doesn’t hear your footsteps, although you did your best to remain as quiet as possible.

a cigarette sits in between his lips, and he has half a mind to toss it over the railing of the ship, but a warmth suddenly appears in front of him in the form of a flame. you found his lighter on the floor earlier and meant to give it to him, but every time you got closer, he found every excuse to leave. you don’t realize the impact you have on him — not really, anyway — because he’s genuinely surprised that you can’t hear the heavy beats of his heart that grow more intolerable the longer he hangs around you.

always afraid of being found out, he opts to keep his distance. it’s easier this way, he tells himself, better. but he doesn’t quite believe that; the evidence is plain as day when his tongue feels like its grown three sizes in the span of seconds, where his words get lost and forgotten. it’s all your fault, he reasons; you who insists on talking candidly with him, who insists on listening to him ramble about his dreams, who absolutely insists on stubbornly tearing down his walls, steadily chipping away without a care in the world. he looks at you as if you are the source of all his problems, but he also looks at you as if you’re the solution.

the intensity behind his stare makes your hands tremble slightly, it’s a miracle you’ve managed to keep yourself composed for this long. you light the end of his cigarette with ease, as if you’ve done this for him hundreds of times —and place the lighter into his pants pocket afterwards. if he wasn’t so used to you getting in his personal space all the time, he’d retreat immediately. the proximity is almost too much for him, but he doesn’t step back; you take that as a good sign and keep him company for a few minutes.

you don’t care for the smell of smoke, but on him it smells good. you almost tell him that, but instead bite down on your lip and keep your comment at bay, nerves getting the best of you as you nearly choke on the possibility that your feelings won’t be reciprocated.

another time, maybe. cheeks flushed, you turn your face to look elsewhere. although, you wonder if there ever will be another time. with him, you never know.

he’s still trying to figure you out and why he feels a different sort of calm around you; it’s alarming and new, drumming up an irrational fear within him. he doesn’t think he’s deserving of your attention or affection, and he’s convinced himself that you don’t harbor any romantic feelings for him. and why would you?

one by one, his thoughts pummel into him, acerbic and overwhelming. he exhales a sliver of smoke and puts the cigarette out. he gives you a quick, apologetic look before telling you goodnight, the smile on his face is melancholic and barely existent. you don’t dare say a word, keep your lips pressed together stubbornly; exasperated and dejected, you don’t know what’s worse — his inability to lower his guard around you for longer than ten minutes, or your inability to stop yourself from trying to carve pieces of yourself to give to him.

maybe if you helped him fill the gaping holes in his heart, he’d truly understand how you feel.

STEP 04:

if you had to do it all over again, would you do anything differently? —

sleep evades you after that night, and the night after that, and so forth; it gets so bad that you’re yawning in the middle of the day, falling asleep before you can have a cup of coffee or tea. this does not go unnoticed by the others, and after talking with nami, you feel less out of your element and finally can see the parts of sanji that he wants to keep hidden. her advice is simple: approach slowly and with intent; corner him and don’t let him escape.

you bide your time, full confident that you can find a moment to sit down with him and talk this all out. it doesn’t come easy, but franky mysteriously swaps sanji for the night’s watch — something that should strike you as odd, but it’s a small opening that you take without thinking as you hurriedly climb up to the crow’s nest with a renewed sort of energy.

even with his eyes closed, as he sits lazily on the bench with head tilted back against the wall, he knows it’s you.

“go back to bed,” he says firmly, refusing to look at you.

your stubbornness, unfortunately, wins out. “i’m staying.” at that he sits up, his attention completely on you as his eyes widen at your words. he wants to ask you why, but cowardice wins out — again. as his features soften, a flush crawls along his face, lightly painting his cheeks pink. he closes his eyes again, tries to steady his breathing as he counts backwards, only for his efforts to be obliterated with ease the moment you sit next to him.

as your thigh presses against his, you take his hand and on impulse you trace your fingertip along the lines on his palm. he watches you with a morbid fascination that scares him; but then you start to say things like, “you will live a very long life,” and “you are courageous, and you have a big heart.”

a small part of him wants to pull his hand away, so you won’t say anything else — but he remains put, so still that you almost think he’s stopped breathing. your voice is sweet and disarming, even when you carry on this charade of reading his palm. a belated realization hits him forcefully, making him blink several times; it dawns on him that you’ve always been so kind and gentle with him, even when you teased him. he’s spent all this time overthinking and hiding behind his past, that it never occurred to him that he could have simply let you in. you’ve never given him reason to believe that you’d betray or harm him intentionally.

he takes a deep breath, voice a little uneven, “i—”

you lean in close, adoration dripping onto your words as you interrupt him. “hey, have i told you?” the question glides along his skin, the words seeping into him as you continue, the lilt in your voice a honeyed, melodic spell. “you remind me of starlight and the mysteries of space.” your lips brush against his when you tell him that, and a warmth settles into the middle of his chest, makes it hard to focus. he doesn’t think when he curls his fingers around yours and doesn’t think when heleans down to kiss you — tender yet electrifying all the same.

the move disarms you in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to you, so you simply hum in approval and lean your head against his shoulder. a comfortable silence settles around you both, but you don’t mind that at all; it’s nice, not having to tip-toe around him anymore, and the demons that plagued him for so long don’t seem so intimidating with you by his side.

#fic request #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece angst #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji angst #sanji fluff #i love sanji a normal amt as u can tell

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