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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 7 days ago

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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 12

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11

He’s got to be heading to the quarry, right? That’s where he goes on Wednesday’s after school to sell his stash, he’d told Steve so umpteen notes back. Steve’s poured over each one enough times to damn-near have the things memorized.

He’s in his car, speeding fast enough that if Hopper catches his ass, he’ll be hauled into a jail cell before he can even make it. Steve pushes his foot down on the pedal harder, trying to eke out any last bit of speed.

When he reaches his destination, Carver’s car is parked sideways across the dirt road that leads off to the quarry, blocking anyone else from entering. Steve slams on his breaks, kicking up dirt all around him, obscuring his view of the windshield.

He steps out into it, dust gritting up his eyes. The only way out is through, so he heads toward the sound of raised voices, stumbling over a raised root as he goes.

He can just barely make out the words now.

“—leave her alone, or you’re dead, do you hear me?” Carver’s not yelling, but when he comes into view, his eyes are hard, and he’s clutching at Eddie’s t-shirt with enough force that he’s holding his knees off the ground.

There’s blood on Eddie’s face, dripping down off it and staining the dirt beneath him.

Steve doesn’t think. “Hey!” he calls, rushing forward to insert himself between them, but before he can, Carver drops Eddie into an ungainly heap on the ground and spins around to face Steve.

Steve lets him; if his eyes are on him, then he’s not looking at Eddie.

“Harrington?” Carver asks, shoulders slumping like Steve’s a friendly, not one wrong move from popping him one in the nose. “What are you—”

“Why don’t you get the hell out of here before the cops show?” Steve asks, using his Team Captain voice.

Steve watches it land. Carver’s shoulder slump, and he looks over Steve’s shoulder at where he’d abandoned his car. But then Eddie spits a glob of blood onto the ground, and Carver’s face shores up into something vicious.

“He was going to ask your girlfriend out, I heard all about it from his little friend!” Carver spits, like the words hurt as they come out of his mouth. “You should thank me on hands and knees!”

“I bet you’d love him on his knees,” Eddie cuts in, words slurring worryingly together.

Carver turns back toward Eddie, face gone almost translucent in the light of the afternoon sun. “Why, you—“

“Shut up, man,” Steve says, finally looking away from Carver to where Eddie’s on his knees, partially obscured by Carver’s body.

Eddie looks up at Steve, defiant as he spits a glob of saliva and blood into the dirt again then wipes his mouth with a shaking hand.

Steve stares down at him, stomach twisting in on itself as Eddie’s glare only intensifies. There hadn’t been much in his eyes when he’d been looking at Carver, but when he’s looking at Steve? That’s rage, barely banked by what must be a killer concussion. Steve turns away from it, unable to bear it a moment longer.

“What’s the point of this?” Steve asks Carver, the exhaustion he’s starting to feel leaking into his voice.

“Chrissy doesn’t need—”

“Chrissy is an adult who doesn’t need either of us fighting her battles for her,” Steve cuts in. “Besides, they’re friends.”

Carver’s mouth curls in on itself. “She would never be friends with this f—”

“She’d kick your ass herself if she heard you talking about Munson like that.”

Carver turns his back on Eddie entirely, glaring at Steve like they’re in some sort of quick-draw stand-off in a stupid Western. Steve’s tired of this guy and all his hate, he’s tired of people he loves being hurt, tired of having to be Chrissy’s shield against the asshole in front of him, and Robin’s shoulder to cry on, and going home to an empty fucking house.

He’s just tired.

It’s a relief when Eddie stands on his own two feet, legs visibly shaking but holding his weight. Because nothing will ever stop Eddie from being Eddie, he claps like Steve and Jason are kindergartners and he’s their beleaguered teacher sent to corral them.

“Well, this has been fun,” Eddie says, grinning around the blood in his teeth. “But there’s only so much jock on jock violence I can take before I break out in hives. So, can I go?”

He throws a taunting thumb over his shoulder where his van’s parked closer to the cliff’s edge, turning to stumble toward it without another word. Carver and Steve both rush to stop him for opposing reasons.

“I’m not done with you,” Carver hisses.

Steve grabs his shoulder, yanking him hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps. “Leave it, Carver, or I’ll ruin you.”

“What the hell could you even do?” Carver demands.

Steve stares him down, dead-eyed and entirely fed up. “I can tell Chrissy what you did, and she’ll lose what little respect she had for you. Then? I’ll have a meeting with Coach and get you kicked off the team. Then, who knows, maybe I’ll plant drugs in your locker, shave your head while you’re sleeping, vandalize school property in your name. Do you really want to stick around and find out what else I can think of?”

Carver holds his gaze for another, endless second before turning away and slinking back the way he came. Steve watches until Carver starts his own car, swerved recklessly close to Steve’s own parked car, and sped away.

When he turns back, Eddie’s nowhere to be seen. He slinks toward his van, unwilling to spook the guy further if he doesn’t need to.

He’s in the driver’s seat of his van, cursing as his shaking hands fumble with the keys, missing again and again as he tries to jam it into the keyhole.

“You can’t drive,” Steve says quietly.

Eddie still jumps, dropping the keys into the well beneath his feet as he snaps his head up, eyes wide and pupils eating up his face. There’s a bruise already swelling up his eyes, and blood caked beneath his nose. He looks a downright mess.

“Here to finish what your buddy started?” Eddie asks, showing off his bloody teeth again in a grin, as if Steve can’t see him shaking.

Steve shakes his head, throat clogged with too many words to name. What comes out is, “you’re not supposed to drive with a concussion.”

Eddie, tellingly, does not argue the concussion, but his bared teeth are starting to look more like a snarl as he replies, “I’m not leaving my van here.”

Steve stares at him. He’s sweating, with injury or panic, Steve’s not sure. There’s dirt in his hair, like before Steve had arrived, Jason had him on the ground, glossy curls pressed into the dirt. Steve clenches his hands into fists the more he sees. His t-shirt is black, but there’s a rip at its hem that Steve doesn’t think was there before.

He aches to reach through the open window and touch that busted face, find the split in his lip, clear the blood from beneath his nose.

Instead, he opens the driver’s side door, feeling like absolute scum as Eddie shuffles away, eyes wide as he presses himself as far away as possible as Steve climbs in.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, voice all wobbly.

Steve bends down to pick up the keys where Eddie had dropped them. He slides the key home and Eddie’s van tick tick ticks itself to life. When Eddie’s music blares, Steve reaches across to turn the dial down, ignoring Eddie’s flinch at his movement.

“Taking you home.”

Eddie’s van is bigger then he’s used to driving, the ride bumpier as he turns around and slides carefully past his own car, his keys probably still abandoned in the driver’s seat somewhere.

Hopefully it’ll still be there when he comes back for it.

***

“Did Chrissy put you up to this?” Eddie asks, voice small, small, small.

Harrington’s shoulders slump, clenched fingers loosening on the steering wheel. He sighs, long and loud, perfect hair rustling with the movement.

“Robin, actually,” he replies, lips tucked up into a facsimile of a smile.

Robin, Robin, Robin, does he know a Robin? His brain’s not working, too scrambled up inside. Eddie’s entire face aches as he scrunches it up in thought before cutting that shit out. No thinking for him until some of this heals. Still, he worries against the name, until, “Buckley?” comes out of his mouth.

Harrington smiles, warmer this time. “Yeah, she saw Carver following you.”

“And went to you?” Eddie asks, voice squeaking embarrassingly on the last word.

Harrington doesn’t answer, but his hands clench tight enough against the steering wheel that his knuckles turn white.

Eddie resolves himself to shutting the fuck up for the rest of the drive.

“How do you know where I live?”

“You’re…loud, dude,” Harrington says, pulling into Eddie’s empty driveway. Harrington’s right, he is loud. It still sounds like a lie. “Is your uncle home?”

Eddie squints, busted eye bursting with pain as he asks, “how do you know I live with my uncle?”

Harrington raises his eyebrow, clearly saying “you’re loud, dude,” again without even needing to open his mouth. Eddie kind of hates him for it.

“He’s on a fishing trip,” Eddie sighs.

Without another word, Harrington turns off the engine and slides out of the van, shutting the door gently behind himself. He rounds the front of the van and Eddie sits, stupefied in his seat as Harrington pulls open the passenger side door and holds his hand out like Eddie’s some swooning maiden. Feeling flustered and frustrated in turns, Eddie slaps his hand away and steps out of his van on his own two feet, slamming the door closed behind him.

Harrington doesn’t move out of the way as Eddie storms past, their shoulders banging into each other makes Eddie’s teeth rattle painfully in his bruised skull. He only remembers he doesn’t have his keys when he’s standing in front of his front door, hand empty.

He stares down at it, betrayed.

His house keys jingle in Harrington’s hand as he steps up beside him. Without even a by your leave, he inserts the key into the hole and twists, inexplicably choosing the right key on the first try. Is Steve Harrington a mind reader?

Harrington pushes the door open and holds it open for Eddie, as if it’s not his house they’re walking into.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie demands, standing on his own front porch like a loser as Harrington bends down and takes his sneakers off.

He lines them up neatly by the wall like he’s staying in The Ritz or something and doesn’t want to stain the dingy carpet.

“Taking my shoes off?”

“No!” Eddie wails, clutching handfuls of his hair, beyond frustration and into something that feels a lot like hysteria. “What are you doing here?”

Straightening up, Harrington stares down at Eddie where he’s still standing on his own porch. He looks incredulous, as if Eddie’s the one who’d saved him from getting killed by some jock, and Eddie’s the one who followed him home after like a lost puppy.

Like Eddie’s the one that doesn’t quite fit in the trailer park, and not Steve Harrington with his squeaky white shoes and ironed polo, and luscious hair, and skin that’s all sun-kissed even as summer’s barely a memory in a little girl’s eye.

“Your uncle’s not home.”

Eddie stares, gobsmacked. What the fuck are they putting in the water in Loch Nora, Jesus Christ! “So?!”

Harrington squints at him again, his aloof cool-guy shtick finally breaking to show the judgmental mean girl barely hidden beneath. “You’re totally concussed, dude,” Steve replies, a King handing down a decree to his loyal subjects. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t like, die.”

Eddie, never one to follow anyone’s decrees but his own, immediately starts bitching. “So, what? You’re playing home invader until someone comes to relieve you?”

He nods, smiling down at Eddie like he’s a puppy who finally learned not to piss on the carpet. Fed up with being a rung lower, Eddie takes that last step up onto the stoop and brushes past Harrington into his own goddamn house.

Harrington shuts and locks the door behind him.

Deciding that discretion is the better part of valor for the first time in his life, Eddie continues further into the trailer without turning around, not stopping until he’s got the bathroom door as a barrier between his vulnerable back and the latest interloper.

The light hurts his eyes as he flicks it on. His face hurts worse, and he can see why, now. One of his eyes is well on its way to swelling shut, a deep red bleeding into purples the farther out it goes. There’s blood beneath his nose, and it’s ballooning out making him look like some old lady’s prized pug. There’s a split going straight through his lip from Carver’s class ring.

He looks like an extra in a horror movie; the guy who’s about to make the sacrifice play because he’s not going to make it. And yeah, maybe there’s a little melodrama in the thought, but Eddie’s pretty sure he deserves it at this point.

God, what a day.

As punctuation to his own thoughts, someone knocks quietly on the door. Eddie’s ribs ache as his shoulders slump, head hanging damn-near into the dirty sink.

“Eddie?” There’s a moment of silence where Eddie’s response is supposed to be. He doesn’t heed it. “Can I come in?”

Eddie groans, loud enough that it’s gotta be audible through the tissue-paper door between them. “Why?” he says–whines pitifully, really.

“I want to check your injuries.”

Eddie, against his better judgment, cracks the door open wide enough to peer through. “What’s it to you, Dr. Harrington?” he asks, that same question wrapped up in a new package. Why are you here, why do you care, what do you want from me?

Harrington just smiles, and pushes at the door with just enough force that Eddie has no choice but to back up and let his unwanted guest in.

He takes Eddie’s face in his hands, rubbing gentle fingers against each wound, murmuring soothing placations. It works enough that Eddie stands still as Harrington sanitizes and bandages each of his wounds.

“You should ice them after this, okay?”

Eddie nods dumbly because Harrington’s moved on from painfully prodding his face to running his fingers through his hair, checking every inch of his skull for bumps and bruises.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” he asks.

Eddie hums, relaxing against his will, body slumping into the cupboard behind him as those nimble fingers have their way with him.

“My ribs, maybe,” Eddie murmurs, eyes closing as Harrington��s fingernails scrape against his scalp before he withdraws his fingers.

His eyes snap back open a second later when those same fingers yank his shirt up without asking, warm palms chasing away the chill on his skin as they skirt over his ribcage, applying gentle pressure to whatever Harrington finds. Eddie shivers involuntarily as Harrington bends down, breath puffing against his stomach.

“Wh—what are you doing?” Eddie asks, stuttering over every other word.

He’s clenched up tight enough that his whole body aches with it—spine, jaw, wrists. But then Harrington looks up at him, usually impeccable hair softened by the day and flopping gently into his face. Eddie always assumed his eyes were brown, but they look sort of gold in the shitty fluorescent light of the bathroom.

He’s never been this close to Harrington before.

“Checking your ribs,” he replies, breath puffing against Eddie’s uncovered skin with every word. “Does that hurt?”

And then he just dismisses Eddie in favor of palpitating what must be a nasty bruise. Eddie whines, inexplicably, embarrassingly, before squeaking out a tiny, “no,” when Harrington looks back up at him with his big, worried, puppy-dog eyes.

Eddie’s own words to Carver make a reappearance, flashing red in neon lights inside his empty skull—I bet you’d love him on his knees. He’s on them now, between Eddie’s spread thighs, looking at Eddie’s body with an intensity that’s skinning him alive.

His skull’s not empty now; it’s bursting with half-formed thoughts, and panicked wheezing he hopes is just internal, and through it all, the words run rampant—on his knees, on his knees, on his knees.

Steve Harrington stands up, takes a step back, and smiles at Eddie. “I think they’re just bruised,” he says, seeming not to notice Eddie’s ragged breathing. “We should ice them, too.”

And then he just…walks out of the bathroom like Eddie’s not full to bursting with thoughts and feelings he doesn’t understand. Like it wasn’t Harrington that had dropped them at his feet—on his knees.

***

Steve sticks his head into Eddie’s freezer and resists the urge to scream. It’s just—Eddie had been blushing when Steve had looked up from checking his ribs for cracks. Steve’s never seen him blush before, and it’s seared into his brain (the way it’d started from his ears and meandered across his cheeks before slowly spreading its splotchy hue down his neck).

For a second, it was almost like Eddie didn’t hate him.

Steve suppresses the thought. Boys shouldn’t have crushes on straight boys who hate their guts, and letting even the tiniest flutter of hope touch his heart would be stupider still. There’s his silly little notes, and there’s his pining little glances.

He doesn’t need anything else.

“Are…you okay?” Eddie’s hesitant voice comes from behind him.

Abruptly remembering his position, Steve pulls his head out of the freezer and grabs the first bag he sees: a half-full package of frozen peas. He turns to Eddie with the best smile he can manage, holding them up as explanation for the unasked What the hell are you doing? hidden beneath the bemused smile on Eddie’s lips.

“Just finding you some ice, dude,” Steve replies breezily, walking over to drop the bag into Eddie’s hand.

“Uh, thanks?” he replies, walking past Steve to close the freezer he’d left open. Steve winces. “You can like, go now.”

It’s a demand hidden beneath a polite question. Steve’s feet start moving toward the door before he remembers the lump he’d felt on the back of Eddie’s head, and the way his eyes had gone all glassy and dazed in the bathroom as Steve had patched him up.

“Unless you want to call someone else, you’re stuck with me until your uncle gets here.” Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but Steve holds up his hands palm out, forestalling his complaints. “Possible concussion, dude.”

Eddie whines, actually stamping his foot squeakily against the linoleum of the kitchen floor. Steve smiles, helplessly endeared, and hates himself for it.

“Why is it your problem if I nod off in my sleep, you don’t even like me.”

The warm feelings flee like they’d never been there at all.

Steve turns his back on Eddie’s petulant frown and stomping feet, unwilling to look him in the eye as the emotions crash through him. Just for a second, he lets his face drop.

“I like you, just fine,” Steve replies, ignoring the little scoff from Eddie in reply.

The trailer’s small and crowded with things on damn-near every surface, but it’s cozy. Steve’s imagined this moment—getting through the Munson’s front door and finally seeing what’s inside. It’s warm, a hot cup of tea, a blanket on a cold night, somewhere to feel safe in.

All Steve feels is cold.

Instead of answering Eddie’s scoff, Steve lets his own little tantrum stomps lead him over to the ratty couch. He sinks down, crossing his legs as he leans back into the cushions, and finally, finally looks at Eddie. He’s still pouting, bottom lip having split open against the pressure of his frown. Steve raises a pointed eyebrow before turning back around to stare at the black of the TV screen.

Eddie groans again, and it takes all his willpower not to turn around, not to let his shoulders curl in as he hears footsteps coming closer. But, all Eddie does is settle onto the other side of the couch and grab the remote.

It’s going to be a long night.

PART 13

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic #eddie's almost having a thought here. he can feel it coming on #can't believe we're already halfway there!

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moonsaver · 4 months ago

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Thinking back to a post you once made about Aeon Sunday… Imagine being someone who knew Sunday in the past before his ascension, only to then receive the gaze of Aeon Sunday later in life

Oh my god. I love this. This is simultaneously creepy AND oddly romantic.

Theres a lot of possibilities for this – was reader sunday's crush? A suitor? Maybe just someone he shared small talk with and actually liked it more than usual? Ooohohoho

Im not sure if its yan or not, so i just kinda.. kept it variable(?)

This ones a bit longer because i desperatley need to wordvomti . Thanks.

Achieving an aeon's gaze is strange, your discipline, morals, ideals, lifestyle, something has to deeply resonate with their followed path. Let us assume Sunday is something similar to a "dreamlike" aeon [maybe it's mentioned in his boss form description, all i remember is the embryo of Philosophy ;;]

But again, it's not exactly stated how you'd be able to achieve an aeon's gaze; i still have no idea how acheron did it [IX is literally a black hole??], because i cant for the life of me read through those huge blocks of texts in the dialogue.

So lets say Sunday's able to pull his own strings and maybe even force you on that path. He's an aeon – who's stopping him?

Its the middle of the night, you're awake in bed, tossing and turning. It feels like something in your chest is pulling, a weird sensation you've been trying to put off. Your eyes are burning from the lack of sleep, but your mind seems restless. You try to calm yourself down and think about one thing and then another, one by one, until you remember Sunday. You wonder what was going through his mind, his in-between words in that one conversation, what he could have meant..

And like that, you fall asleep. Your bones sink into the bed, your weight relaxes into the pliant surface.

And then you awake. But somewhere else. It's not your bedroom – not the familiar ceiling, nor the corner of your room with piled clothes or a messy table. It's the cosmos, littered with stars. It's strange. You almost don't notice until you try to move – you're floating in space.

You turn, and he's there. That recognizable golden halo, stretching out into the dark expanse like the inside of a star plunging into the depths, golden eyes that peer down at you; with recognition, understanding, almost sympathy, and something you can't quite place. Your ribs ache and your lungs burn when you're reminded to breathe – this is the man you were thinking about before you slept.

You wake up, panting, shooting up in bed. The familiar space of your room greets you this time. The night is young outside your window ‐ not much time seems to have passed in that brilliant moment.

You were ready to chalk it up to a dream, like the ones where you feel like you're falling and wake up with a racing heart. But then you look down, and see a strange symbol on your body, something akin to an eye.

It seems you've earned his blessing to follow his path.

And even more? It seems like you're the first person to actually follow this path.

It's strange and isolating in a way. You can awaken from the sweetdream paradise your beloved Aeon seems to have put penacony under. You gain this strange, superflous, iridescent ghost of a halo, and you realise you can use it to communicate.

You can communicate with Sunday.

But a part of you finds it pointless. you can't understand what he's saying anymore; Aeons' existence transcends language. You can only hear whispers of people speaking to you, as though it's from the corner of a room, somewhere in the distance, with one barely audible male voice standing out in the whispering; it might be sunday's real voice, but you're not sure. At least, to some degree, you've managed to make out a few words.

Some words give you information. You can monitor the true handiwork of your aeon this way. Every person's dream — sweet, deep slumbers, exquisitely woven by deft fingers, all in 7 days. You figured this when you phased out of the dream, looking down at your own sleeping body and freaking out, when Sunday communicated with you for the first time, instantly calming you down. Dream. Woven. 7 days. Those words were evident in the cacophony of whispers.

Some words carry warnings. Or rather, they're not exactly words.

When your curious hands boldly trace the surface of a particularly fragile dream, you hear breathing. In close proximity, too, as if its right behind your ear. Sometimes, if you try to wake someone, you feel the breathing; warm, and languidly flowing down the back of your collar. You've chosen to not find out what happens when you don't listen.

Sometimes, when you decide to simply phase out of the dream to take a look at your own body in reality – you talk to Sunday. You tell him what you think, who you met in the dreamscape, what he can do to make it better [since.. well, you can't exactly do much to awaken anyone or oppose an aeon]. You assume he doesn't hear you, since you don't get your whispery response, but after you catch a few glimpses of your suggestions in the dreamscape, you realise he's just a good listener.

Perhaps, even if you may be the only follower of this path for now.. it may not be as isolating as you think.

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waywardxrhea · 23 days ago

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Tuna-Tober Days 7 and 26 - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

prompts: nothing underneath & under the desk

word count: 1,678

content: SMUT! MDNI! 18+ ONLY! semi-public sexual acts, oral (male receiving), no underwear under sundress, brief female masturbation, language (Matt's got a mouth on him), dirty talk (reader's got a mouth on her), love bites.

tuna-tober masterlist / main masterlist

It was a surprisingly hot day in Hell’s Kitchen as you returned to the neighborhood after a short girls’ trip with your friends upstate to get out of the city for a little while. You hadn’t texted Matt that you were home yet, knowing that the firm was hard at work on a case that had been occupying a lot of Matt’s time lately. The case combined with his nearly nightly hobby of stopping criminals on the streets and you being out of town for the week had left you…pent up to say the least.

Wanting to surprise Matt, you ordered food from the place where he, Foggy, and Karen frequently got meals while working on cases. The lunch wasn’t the only surprise you had in store for him though. When you had dropped off your bags at your shared apartment, you had done something risky that you hoped would lead to something, anything with Matt. You had taken off your underwear as a means of enticing him, even if it was later that day when he got off of work. You were willing to wait until the end of the day, but no longer than that. You needed Matt.

A pang of anxiety hit you momentarily at the prospect of going onto the streets of New York City in a sundress without any underwear on, but the memories of your intimate moments with Matt overtook that anxiety and bolstered your confidence. You couldn’t help the memories occupying your mind as you picked up the food and began walking to the firm. The flood of these memories had gone straight to your core, and you didn’t even realize how worked up you had gotten yourself until you entered the office.

After knocking on the door quietly, it opened to reveal Matt who had a look of mixed emotions on his face. There was first happiness, his charming smile as he greeted you making your heart flutter - you would never get over how giddy that smile made you. Next was what looked like relief as he realized that you had brought lunch. After that though was a flash of lust and a different type of hunger as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Matt reached up and loosened his tie as he stepped aside to let you in, clearing his throat before saying, “Thank you for bringing lunch, sweetheart.” He followed close behind as you placed the food on a table, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back flush to him as he kissed your shoulder and mumbled, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, relaxing into his embrace. Glancing around, you didn’t see Foggy or Karen in the office, so you asked, “Where are the others?”

There was a pause for a few moments before Matt said, “A couple blocks away. They stopped to talk with…Brett. He’s been helping us a lot with this case.” His hands began massaging your hips, and as he did, you started to feel his arousal poking your backside. Lowering down so his mouth was right beside your ear, his husky voice said, “I have a suspicion you had motives other than just bringing me lunch, sweetheart…”

You grabbed a bit of the fabric of the skirt of your dress and swished it before asking with a smirk, “What gave that way, counselor?”

Matt let out a strained whine when the smell and taste of your arousal hit him, and his grip on your hips tightened as he moved to place a sloppy kiss on your neck. “You’re…you’re not-?” he asked, his sentence clipped as he focused his senses on you and came to the realization that you had nothing on underneath your dress. “Fuck…” he choked out as his hips ground into you from behind.

“I was hoping that would be the outcome of this visit, yes,” you teased, grinding back into him and eliciting another breathy whine from his lips.

“My office. Now,” he practically growled as he turned you around and captured your lips in a passionate kiss while leading you to the small room where his private office was. By the time Matt got you onto his desk and your hands were frantically undoing his belt, he pulled away abruptly and whispered, “Goddamnit…”

“What?” you asked, not bothering to stop your movements as you did.

“Karen and Foggy… They’re almost back in the building,” he replied.

“Well then you better grab your lunch and pretend to be working,” you told him after a few moments of thinking, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“What do you me-” he started to say, but cut himself short when you began to sink down into a comfortable enough position on the floor, hidden from sight under his desk.

“Hurry back,” you said in a low and sultry tone, which earned a whispered curse from Matt as he fumbled to grab his food to bring to his desk.

When he got back and scooted his rolling chair closer to you, your hands were on him immediately, slowly running up and down his thighs, almost brushing against the bulge in his slacks, but always missing by millimeters. “Fuck, sweetheart, they’re almost-” Matt choked out before you hushed him.

“Just act like I’m not here,” you told him with a quiet chuckle escaping as his hips bucked in search of friction.

“It’s not that easy,” he countered through gritted teeth as your fingers ghosted past his aching cock. He sucked in a sharp breath before adding, “You’re making it really hard to-”

He cut himself off though when the main door to the office opened and closed as Foggy and Karen entered the space. “Ooh, Matt, when’d you get lunch?” Foggy asked, popping his head into Matt’s office as he did. Matt cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice steady as he told him that you brought it. “Oh nice! Give her our thanks when you see her tonight! Karen and I just talked with Brett and got a good lead, we’ll be in my office sorting it out while we eat,” he said.

“Y-yeah. Tonight. I’ll tell her,” Matt replied, biting the inside of his cheek to contain the moan threatening to escape as you finally danced your fingers along his length through his slacks.

“Thanks, bud! If you need anything, you know where we’ll be!” Foggy said cheerfully before closing the door behind him.

When you heard the click of the door handle, you finally reached for the zipper of Matt’s slacks and slid it down before freeing his length from the confines of them and his underwear. A hiss of air went through Matt’s teeth as you leaned up and began teasing him with your tongue, running it up the underside in a way you knew drove him crazy every time. You let out a pleased hum as his hand reached down to caress your cheek, turning to kiss the palm of his hand before once more adjusting so you could take him into your mouth.

With his legs widening to accommodate you, Matt leaned back into his chair as his head lulled onto the headrest, a pleasure filled sigh leaving his lips as his eyes closed in bliss. The quiet sounds of pleasure leaving Matt’s lips went straight to your core, and you could feel yourself growing more aroused as you bobbed your head up and down Matt’s length.

A quiet moan left your throat as Matt laced his fingers in your hair, the reverberation on his cock driving Matt mad as he grew closer to his release. “Fuck, sweetheart, I want- I need to- Please let me touch you,” Matt choked out. The fresh waves of your arousal hitting his nose alone were enough to bring him impossibly closer to his orgasm. He wanted to touch you. Taste you. Feel you around him as he took you against the desk. He needed you.

You released Matt from your mouth and began working him quickly with your hand, the sound lewd in the otherwise quiet office. A quiet chuckle left your lips as you told him, “Be good for me here and I’m all yours tonight. However you want me. Wherever you want me.” Your lips met his right thigh and you began sucking a small love bite into the skin before telling him in a low voice, “Mark me so the world knows I’m taken. Make me scream so the whole city knows who I belong to…”

A string of curses flew from Matt’s mouth as his hips bucked up and a quiet moan escaped his lips. You took the opportunity to take him back into your mouth and hollowed out your cheeks as he hit the back of your throat, one hand holding steady on the side of his thigh and the other sneaking down to rub your clit. The moment your finger began rubbing the sensitive bud, Matt had to bite down on his knuckle to keep quiet as his body flushed with warmth as he reached his orgasm, the pleasure making his toes curl in his shoes.

With his chest heaving, Matt leaned back into his chair to catch his breath as he caressed your face with one of his hands once again to ground himself as he came down from his high. When he finally regained his bearings, he chucked before whispering, “Thank you. That was…amazing. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, a quiet giggle leaving your lips at how risky what you just did was. “You think you can get Karen and Foggy out of the office for a bit? I don’t think I can wait til tonight,” you told Matt as you intentionally adjusted your skirt again to tease him.

“I’ll find a way,” he assured you, tucking himself back into his slacks before standing up and going to tell the two of them about something he found in his paperwork that he needed them to go investigate.

#matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil smut #daredevil #tuna tober 2024

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bloatedandalone04 · 11 months ago

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Dating Anakin Skywalker would include;

Warnings: jealousy, descriptions of smut, smut, fluff, angst, kinks, swearing, more badly written headcanons

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

➪First things first; this man is jealous 99% of the time, let’s be real here.

➪Your relationship is forbidden, so Anakin isn’t able to show you off in all the ways he wants to.

➪All he’s allowed to do is train with you and sometimes is able to get away with pulling your back against his chest as he guides your saber down in a quick slash, but that is really it.

➪It’s nowhere near enough for him, but he puts up with it since he still gets to end most of his days with you in your secret shared room.

➪With that being said, even though he is a very jealous person, he is also very sweet.

➪When he wants to be.

➪But only with you.

➪You are the only person who gets to see his soft side.

➪You train together often since it’s really the only time you get to interact outside of your room, and he shamelessly admitted once that seeing you like that turns him on a lot.

➪Since you are a Jedi yourself, you and Anakin get to go on missions together and protect one another since you don’t really trust anyone else to do it.

➪It also allows for you to be around each other 24/7 without any suspicion being drawn to you.

➪And it usually allows Anakin to be all over you in the privacy of his ship/and or a separate room from the one at the temple.

➪Now....everyone says that he is a massive sub..not me.

➪I don’t buy it.

➪While he’s not a full blown dom (at least not until he turns to the dark side and then later becomes Vader), he’s also not a whiney sub who is just there for you to use.

➪He, of course, cares more about your pleasure than his own, but he also doesn’t act like he’s only a fucktoy for you.

➪Let’s be real, he is a lover, and therefore makes love to you in all the ways that leave you flustered and red in the face.

➪Now, that’s not to say he doesn’t have his full on dom moments.

➪When he gets super jealous, he’ll take you by the hand - and usually doesn’t care who sees, which is something he has to spend time later explaining - and take you back to his room to have his way with you.

➪He’ll say things like, “What were you doing with him, baby? Hm?” or “You think he can make you feel as good as I can? Does he really think that you’d let him?” while he’s railing you into an early grave.

➪With one hand gripping the headboard and the other covering your mouth so you’re not overheard, he is just completely letting out his jealousy and frustration of not being able to show you off like he wants to.

➪That being said, he’s not very quiet himself.

➪He usually has a swollen bottom lip by the time you’re both spent since he had to bite down on it hard to keep himself at least somewhat quiet.

➪His kinks are simple; marking, hair pulling and, you guessed it, choking.

➪He’s very careful with the way marks you, scattering love bites along your shoulders that are always covered by your robes, or on your inner thighs.

➪You’ve been with him for a long time, and saw the departure of his beloved braid, and when he decided to grow out his hair...oh boy.

➪His head had never been more sore.

➪You pull on it every time he takes you to bed, tugging the curls between your fingers with each thrust of his hips.

➪The headache he’d have afterwards was so worth it since he had been a bit nervous that you’d hate the new way he had begun styling his hair, and he was happy he couldn’t have been more wrong.

➪Choking....that should explain itself.

➪But the man loves wrapping his metal fingers gently around your throat, not nearly with enough pressure to block your airways but enough for you to feel it.

➪When he began to turn to the dark side, he definitely applied a bit more pressure, but still not enough to hurt you.

➪After all, you are the reason he lives and breathes, and he would never dream of causing you any type of harm.

➪His names for you are; sweet girl, angel, star and the occasional baby - but he usually saves that one for the bedroom.

➪You two eventually get married in the most lowkey wedding in the history of lowkey weddings, and exchange lightsabers as a way of showing your love.

➪Afterwards he took you away from Coruscant on a special mission - which was really just a fancy name for your honeymoon.

➪While it didn’t last long, Anakin did manage to get you pregnant, and that came with many problems.

➪Hiding it was a challenge, and hiding your son after giving birth was even harder, but you managed to do it for a while until you were able to get your own place in the city, where you and Anakin were able to raise him in peace and privacy.

➪Pick an AU; Anakin never turns to the dark side and gets to experience what it’s like to be a dad, or he does and you give up your son in order to protect him (and to keep him safe from his Sith father).

➪Either way, his love for you never falters and lives on through the memories you share together, whether or not he remains the loyal Jedi he was always meant to be.

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oceandolores · 4 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 6

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦,"

summary: joel finally let him make a woman out of you, as you both now in this together, just you and him.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 6

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter 5

next | chapter 7

Another week had begun its slow, inevitable march toward Sunday, the day of the dance troupe’s performance, and every day felt more intense than the last. You were drowning in rehearsals, schoolwork, and the looming graduation that was just weeks away. Every minute of your day seemed spoken for, filled with the weight of responsibility and expectation. But even in the midst of all this, you and Joel found ways to be together.

Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, you’d sneak out of your window and meet him in the truck parked a few blocks away. Or he’d call you, his voice a low, comforting murmur as you curled up in bed, the house quieter without your father’s overbearing presence. Your mother, wrapped up in her own world, turned a blind eye to your late nights, allowing you more freedom as long as you kept up appearances during the day. It was in these stolen moments, with the world asleep, that you felt the pull between you and Joel growing stronger.

Being with him was like finding refuge from a storm. His presence calmed you, his voice soothed you, and his touch—those rare, fleeting moments when your hands brushed or when he held you close—ignited something deep inside you. You were falling for him, and you knew it. It wasn’t just infatuation or some fleeting crush. It was the kind of love that snuck up on you slowly, like a vine wrapping around your heart, binding you to him with every passing day.

Joel felt it too, though he struggled to name it. He’d never intended to fall in love again, especially not with you, so young and full of life. But there it was, this fierce protectiveness that had morphed into something much deeper. It was in the way he thought about you constantly, the way his heart twisted when he saw you smile, the way he ached for you in ways that scared him. Love had a way of finding him, even when he thought he’d shut the door on it for good.

Yet, neither of you spoke of it. The word “love” hung in the air, unspoken, because saying it out loud would change everything. So you let it linger, allowing the unspoken bond to grow, rich with possibilities and fears.

At the church, rehearsals were growing more intense with each passing day. Jemima was absent, ill with the flu, and it had spread like wildfire that she and Ben were expecting their first child. The news sent waves of excitement through the troupe, but it also left Ben in charge, his presence more pronounced now that Jemima wasn’t there to temper him.

You began to notice things about Ben that made your skin crawl. He wasn’t just watching you; he was watching all of the younger girls too, his eyes lingering just a little too long. He was full of compliments and encouragements, and while the other girls seemed to lap it up, something about it felt wrong to you. It was subtle—just a hint of something dark lurking beneath his charming exterior. But you could sense it, like the distant rumble of thunder on a clear day.

After rehearsal, you decided to stay behind in the church, needing a moment to yourself. The soft strains of gospel music echoed through the empty hall, and you let it wash over you, trying to clear your mind. Emma was there too, chatting away about the upcoming performance, and to your surprise, Ellie had stayed as well, snapping pictures on her phone.

“These are for the behind-the-scenes album I’m putting together,” she said with a grin, her camera clicking away as she captured the stained glass windows, the pews, the half-empty stage. Ellie had a sharp eye, always finding beauty in the mundane.

Just as you were starting to relax, the heavy oak door creaked open, and Ben walked in, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor. “Afternoon, girls,” he greeted, his voice smooth as ever.

“Afternoon, Ben,” you, Emma, and Ellie chorused in return, each in your own tone. Emma’s voice was bright and eager, yours polite but reserved, and Ellie’s—Ellie’s had a slight edge to it.

“You’re all doing great,” Ben continued, his gaze sweeping over you. “The routine is really coming together. I’m impressed. Just a few more adjustments, and you’ll be perfect for Sunday.”

Emma giggled, clearly pleased with his praise. “Thanks, Ben. We’ve been working hard.”

Ben smiled at her, and then his eyes settled on you, and you felt that uncomfortable prickle again. “And you, you’ve really found your rhythm. It’s good to see,” he said, his voice dipping into something softer, more personal.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Ben. Just trying to keep up.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Oh, you’re doing more than keeping up. You’re leading the pack. Really standing out.” His compliment was laced with something that made you want to shrink back, but you held your ground, refusing to let him see your discomfort.

Ellie, who had been quietly observing from behind her camera, stepped forward. “You know, Ben, the girls have been working really hard. Maybe you should give them a break and let them have some fun,” she said, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

Ben’s smile faltered just a fraction. “Fun is important too, Ellie,” he said smoothly, but there was an edge to his voice now. He turned his attention back to you. “Anyway, keep it up. I'll see you girls tomorrow for another practice," You and Emma nodded and say goodbye to him.

He lingered a moment longer, his eyes flicking between you and Ellie, before finally walking away, leaving the three of you in a heavy silence.

Ellie waited until he was out of earshot before turning to you and Emma. “Is it just me or something's off with that new Pastor?"

Emma frowned, confused. “What do you mean? Ben’s great. He’s just being supportive.”

Ellie shook her head, her expression serious. “Supportive, sure. But there’s something else. I don’t know, he just… he gives me the creeps.”

You chuckled softly as you bent down, cooling down your sore leg muscles after the intense rehearsal. “He’s just being nice, Ellie,” you said, glancing up at her with a small smile. “He’s new in town, and Jemima just got back here after years. Maybe he’s still adjusting.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, unconvinced. “Yeah, but still, something’s off. Have you noticed how he barely interacts with Jemima? It’s like they’re not even married.”

Emma, sitting nearby and stretching her arms, shrugged. “That’s not so unusual. They got married really young, and Jemima’s father pretty much arranged the whole thing. Sometimes that kind of marriage starts off with all the passion in the world, but then, over time, it fades. You get bored. What was once exciting becomes mundane, especially if you’re not with the right person. I just hope that doesn’t happen with Jim and me.”

Emma’s words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself lost in thought. You and Joel were in that heated, intoxicating phase where every touch felt electric, every glance held a thousand unspoken promises. But what if it didn’t last? What if the fire between you eventually died down, leaving only ashes of what once was? Could Joel grow tired of you, the way Ben seemed to have grown distant from Jemima?

Ellie noticed your distraction and nudged you gently. “Hey, you okay? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Emma turned her attention to you as well, her eyes curious. “Yeah, you’re awfully quiet. What about you and this new boy you’ve been spending time with? Have you tried, you know… to please him?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you shook your head quickly. “No, I haven’t. He said he doesn’t want to rush things if I’m not ready.”

Emma smiled warmly, her eyes soft with understanding. “Aw, he sounds sweet. Taking things slow is good.”

Ellie, however, wasn’t about to let the conversation end there. “Wait, who’s this boy? Jamie?” The mention of his name made your heart tighten, a pang of discomfort cutting through you.

Emma was quick to correct her. “No, not Jamie. She broke up with him. This one’s new.” Emma leaned in closer, a mischievous grin on her face. “She said she wants to please him, and you know… blow him.”

Ellie wrinkled her nose, half in disgust and half in amusement. “Gross! But seriously, who is this guy? You’re being so mysterious about him.”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you like a stone sinking in deep water. There was no way you could tell them the truth—not about Joel, not about the intense, forbidden love that had blossomed between you two in the shadows. Instead, you kept your tone light, trying to mask the storm of emotions swirling within you.

“So,” you began cautiously, your voice a little shaky, “what if there’s someone… someone who makes you feel everything at once? Like, when I’m with him, it’s like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and it’s terrifying, but it’s also exhilarating, like I could just… fly.”

Emma, who was a little older and more experienced in these matters, tilted her head thoughtfully. “That sounds intense. But in a good way, right? Like, you’re feeling things you’ve never felt before?”

You nodded, grateful for her understanding. “Yeah, exactly. But it’s also scary, you know? Like, what if I’m the only one feeling this way? What if… what if he doesn’t feel the same, or he’s just—”

Ellie, who was the youngest but no less insightful, cut in. “Boys are confusing. I don’t understand them half the time. But if he’s making you feel like that, it sounds like he’s important to you. Have you talked to him about it? Like, really talked?”

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. “Not really. It’s hard to explain. I’m not sure if I’m even making sense to myself. It’s like… when I’m with him, everything else fades away, and it’s just us. But then I start thinking—what if I’m just dreaming? What if he’s not really into me the way I’m into him? What if… what if I’m not enough?”

Emma leaned forward, her gaze steady and warm. “Love is a gamble, always. It’s putting your heart out there, knowing it might get hurt. But from what you’re saying, it sounds like you care about him a lot. And that’s not something to take lightly. The fact that he makes you feel like you’re flying… that’s something special. Don’t be afraid of it.”

Ellie, despite her inexperience, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, maybe I don’t get boys, but I do know that if someone makes you feel that way, you’ve got to go for it. But also… protect yourself. Make sure he’s worth it.”

You took a deep breath, their words comforting but not fully easing the uncertainty gnawing at you. “It’s just… I’m falling for him, I think. Really falling. But I keep wondering—what if he doesn’t catch me? What if I just… crash?”

Emma nodded thoughtfully, her eyes soft with understanding. "If he’s showing you that he cares, even in small ways, that’s a good sign. Maybe he does have feelings for you, but sometimes guys—especially older guys—are more complicated. They’ve been through stuff, you know? Past relationships, heartbreaks, things that might make them scared to fall again.”

You froze for a moment, realizing your slip-up, but quickly tried to cover it. "Wait, how do you know he's older than me? I never said that."

Emma smirked, raising an eyebrow. "You didn’t have to. The way you describe him—how he’s cautious, how he’s been through stuff—it’s not hard to guess. Sounds like he’s probably some college guy you met at a party or something.”

You bit your lip, Emma’s words hitting closer to home than she knew. Joel had his scars, that much you could tell. You’d seen the way he sometimes looked at you, as if he wanted to reach out but something held him back. The fear of history repeating itself, perhaps, of loving and losing all over again.

“But if he’s giving you mixed signals,” Emma continued gently, “it might be worth talking to him about it. Slowly, of course. Just… open up the conversation. Let him know how you’re feeling. Sometimes they just need a little nudge to be honest about what’s going on in their head.”

You sighed, thinking of Joel’s careful distance, the way he always seemed to pull back just when things got too intense. “I’m just scared, you know? We were talking about Ben and Jemima earlier, how things can start off so strong, and then… fade away. What if that happens to us? What if we’re so in love now, but then he gets bored, or… or realizes he doesn’t actually want me?”

Emma reached over, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “That’s a valid fear, especially with what we see around us. But relationships are built on more than just the initial spark. It’s about growing together, working through the ups and downs. If you’re both willing to put in the effort, to communicate and be honest with each other, there’s no reason it has to fade. But you have to trust each other too.”

You nodded slowly, taking in her words. Trust. That was the foundation of everything, wasn’t it? And while you knew you trusted Joel with your life, trusting him with your heart was a different matter entirely. The idea of opening up that conversation with him, of laying your feelings bare, was terrifying—but maybe it was the only way to move forward.

“Just… take it one step at a time,” Emma added softly. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just be honest with yourself and with him, and see where it leads.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile, the knot of anxiety in your chest loosening just a little.

Ellie leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity. "He’s older? Just tell me who it is, c’monnn!"

You felt your heart race, a mix of panic and amusement bubbling up inside you. If only they knew who you were actually talking about. You shot Ellie a look, half-joking, half-serious. “Oh, if you found out who I’m talking about, you’d… you’d probably kill me.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Now you have to tell me. Who is this mystery guy? Don’t leave me hanging!”

You shook your head, laughing nervously as you tried to steer the conversation away from the dangerous territory it was headed into. “Nope, not happening. But trust me, he’s… someone who cares a lot about me. And that’s what matters, right?”

Emma rolled her eyes good-naturedly, clearly amused by your evasiveness. “Alright, keep your secrets. But just know, we’re here for you, okay? If you ever need to talk… or if you just want to gush about how amazing he is.”

Ellie gave you a teasing nudge. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously, if he’s treating you right, that’s all that matters. If not, we'll kick his senior ass,"

You chuckled at Ellie’s playful threat, though the thought of her actually kicking Joel’s ass was beyond ironic. If only she knew the truth—she’d be horrified, not to mention utterly confused.

As the three of you wrapped up your conversation and began gathering your things to head home, you felt a mix of relief and longing. Joel had promised to take you to the night fair in Houston tomorrow, a rare escape from your daily routine, and the idea of spending the night at his Houston house afterward made your heart race. You’d already told your mom another carefully crafted lie, saying you’d be staying at Ellie’s for the night. Your mom never doubted you, never checked. She believed in the goodness of her preacher’s daughter, convinced that you were beyond sin.

Lately, you found yourself praying more, asking for forgiveness for the web of lies you were spinning, for the thoughts and actions that felt so dirty, so far from the holy path you were supposed to walk. You quoted scriptures to yourself, verses about purity and truth, trying to cling to some semblance of the person you used to be. But each time you whispered those prayers, guilt weighed heavily on your soul like a stone sinking deeper into a dark, endless sea.

As you stepped outside the church and said your goodbyes to Emma and Ellie, you felt a sudden chill. Just as you turned to leave, Ben appeared seemingly out of nowhere, making you jump.

“Oh, Ben! Lord, you scare me,” you exclaimed, trying to steady your racing heart.

He chuckled softly, an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to. Just finishing up some business with the church elders.”

You nodded, still a bit rattled. “I thought you’d gone home already.”

He shook his head, looking at you with those intense eyes that always seemed to linger a moment too long. “Not yet. I had a few things to take care of. Are you heading home now?”

You nodded again, more out of politeness than anything else. “Yeah, I’m walking this time."

"No ride from your friend today?" Ben asked again, "No," You answered, "He's busy," you smile at him politely.

Ben’s expression brightened, and he offered, “Do you need a lift? I’m heading to Burger King, and it’s on the way to your place.”

You hesitated, a little voice inside you whispering to say no. But you’d been raised to never refuse a kind offer, especially from someone who seemed to mean well. It was one of the many lessons your father had drilled into you.

“Sure, that would be nice,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Ben smiled, the corners of his mouth curling up, “Great. My car’s just around the corner.”

Ben’s car ride was quiet at first, an awkward silence settling between the two of you. You stared out the window, the streets passing by in a blur, trying to shake the unease that had crept into your chest. But the silence grew heavier, so you decided to break it.

“So, you lived in Mexico before coming here?” you asked, glancing over at him. “How long were you there?”

Ben’s face lit up at the question, the tension in the car easing as he spoke. “Yeah, I did. Jemima and I moved there right after we got married. I was a preacher there, too. The first year was tough—language barriers and all. But now I’m fluent in Spanish. Mexico… it’s an incredible place.”

He launched into stories about his time in Mexico, his voice warm and animated. He spoke highly of the country, describing the vibrant culture, the beautiful landscapes, and the deep faith of the people he ministered to. You found yourself listening intently, the charm in his voice almost infectious.

“You ever been to Mexico?” he asked suddenly, turning the conversation back to you.

You shook your head, a little embarrassed. “No, I’ve never really been anywhere.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. “You should go someday. It’s life-changing.”

As he continued to speak, occasionally cracking jokes that were surprisingly funny, you couldn’t help but notice how likable he seemed. He had a way of making you feel comfortable, his words smooth and reassuring, and you found yourself relaxing a bit in his presence.

Before long, you arrived at Burger King. Ben pulled up to the drive-thru and asked, “What do you want? My treat.”

“Oh, no, I’m good. Thanks,” you replied, not wanting to be a bother.

But Ben insisted, ordering something for you anyway. “Trust me, you’ll like it,” he said with a grin.

As you waited in the drive-thru line, he pulled out his phone, showing you photos from his time in Mexico. The images were stunning—vibrant markets, serene beaches, and old churches with intricate architecture.

“Wow, these are beautiful,” you murmured, genuinely impressed.

“Yeah, it was a special time in my life,” Ben replied, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

You couldn’t help but feel drawn in by his stories and the way he spoke of his experiences with such passion. Yet, beneath it all, there was still that small, persistent feeling in your gut—something you couldn’t quite shake, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

You listened to Ben’s words, nodding politely, but that uneasy feeling in your stomach only grew stronger. His tone had shifted, taking on the familiar cadence of the sermons you’d heard your father give a thousand times. He began talking about the girls in Mexico, how they were deeply religious, involved in church activities, just like you and your friends.

“It’s good, you know,” Ben continued, his voice warm with approval. “To have a group of young people who still believe in God and walk in His ways. Especially girls your age—this is the time when they’re most likely to stray, to rebel and search for themselves. Like your friend, Emma. How old is she?”

“She’s 20,” you replied, wondering why he was suddenly bringing Emma into the conversation.

Ben nodded thoughtfully. “So she’s the oldest in your dance group?”

“Yeah,” you answered, feeling a slight unease. You couldn’t help but notice that Ben didn’t seem to pay much attention to Emma, probably because she was older, and now that you thought about it, his attention had always been more focused on the younger girls.

“Girls around that age need God the most,” Ben said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “That’s when the temptations are strongest—sex before marriage, drugs, alcohol… it’s important to stay on the right path, to keep close to God.”

You nodded again, but internally, you were starting to feel a bit trapped, as if you were listening to one of your father’s lectures all over again.

Ben shifted the conversation to Ellie. “And how old is Ellie?”

“She’s 16,” you replied, wondering why he was so interested.

“Ah, Ellie… she’s a bit of a tomboy, isn’t she?” Ben remarked, a hint of disapproval in his tone. “Dresses like a boy… but, you know, girls should embrace their femininity, dress like girls. It’s how God made them, after all.”

His words made you cringe inwardly, and you had to bite your tongue to keep from saying something you might regret. His opinions were starting to feel like a lecture on how you and your friends should live your lives, and it was beginning to make you feel nauseated.

Then, suddenly, he looked over at you, his eyes lingering a little too long. “And you… how old are you?”

You tell him your age, trying to keep your voice steady. Ben’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. “You look younger than your age. Act younger too. I wouldn’t have guessed,"

The comment sent a chill down your spine, and you found yourself wondering why he was so focused on everyone’s age. Before you could dwell on it too long, the drive-thru window opened, and the employee handed over the bag of food.

“Here we go,” Ben said with a smile, taking the bag. The momentary distraction was a relief, but that uncomfortable feeling still lingered in the back of your mind, making you question why Ben was so interested in all these details.

Ben handed you the bag of food with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You took it, muttering a quick “thank you” as you tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in your stomach. The rest of the drive was spent in silence, with you staring out the window, lost in thought. The houses and trees blurred together as you tried to shake off the lingering discomfort that Ben’s questions had stirred in you.

Before you knew it, you were in front of your house. Ben pulled up to the curb and turned to you with that same smile. “Here we are,” he said. “It was nice talking to you. Remember, if you need anything, anything at all, you can reach out to me, okay? I’d be happy to help.”

You forced a smile and nodded, even though your mind was already halfway out the door. “Thanks, Ben. I appreciate it.”

As you stepped out of the car and closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that the conversation was over. You waved goodbye as Ben drove off, then turned and walked up to your front door.

Inside, the familiar smell of home greeted you, comforting in its simplicity. You found your mom in the kitchen, prepping ingredients for dinner.

“Mama, I'm home,” you said, setting the food on the counter.

She glanced up from her chopping board and smiled. “Hello, sweetheart. Who dropped you off?”

“Ben,” you replied, trying to sound casual.

“Ben?” your mom echoed, her brow furrowing slightly before she nodded. “Alright, then. Go get cleaned up, and then come help me with dinner, okay?”

“Okay, Mama,” you said, grateful for the chance to escape to your room for a moment.

You hurried upstairs, your thoughts still swirling from the strange conversation with Ben. As you washed your hands and face, you tried to focus on the routine, grounding yourself in the simple actions. But Ben’s words kept echoing in your mind, especially the way he’d looked at you, his questions about your friends, and the way he’d emphasized that you could reach out to him anytime.

A shiver ran down your spine as you recalled the way his gaze had lingered on you, the way he’d seemed to be sizing you up. You pushed the thoughts aside, trying to focus on the here and now, on helping your mom with dinner and the promise of a normal evening.

But even as you headed back downstairs to the kitchen, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something about Ben just wasn’t right.

***

Joel sat heavily on one of the barstools at Tommy’s place, a glass of whiskey in hand. The amber liquid caught the dim light, reflecting the turbulence of his thoughts. It had been a rough day, and he welcomed the soothing burn of the alcohol, hoping it might dull the ache of his internal struggle. Tommy, ever the supportive brother, poured himself a drink and settled beside Joel, the two of them sinking into the comfortable chaos of their late-night ritual.

Joel took a moment to catch his breath as he dialed Ellie’s number, the familiar, comforting weight of his phone in his hand. He left a quick voicemail, letting her know not to wait up for him, and that he had a spare key if she needed it. “Just lock up when you head to bed,” he said, his voice rough but warm. As he hung up, he turned his attention back to the whiskey, its amber glow mirroring the turbulence inside him.

The amber liquid seemed to dance in the dim light, reflecting the stormy skies of his mind. He took a deep sip, savoring the burn as it traced a fiery path down his throat. The warmth was soothing, but it did little to calm the storm raging within him. The ache in his chest felt like an endless ocean, where the waves were laced with memories and fears.

As he sat there, the world around him became a blur of muted colors and distant sounds. His thoughts drifted to you, the person who had entered his life like a sudden gust of wind through a cracked window—unexpected, refreshing, and profoundly unsettling. You were like a burst of sunlight breaking through the relentless clouds of his past, casting long shadows of doubt and hope across the landscape of his heart.

Joel had always been a man of walls and distance, his heart a fortress built from the rubble of loss and pain. After the death of his wife and daughter, he had fortified himself against the world, each brick a testament to his fear and grief. But you, with your light and laughter, had begun to chip away at those walls, like the slow, persistent erosion of the sea against a stubborn cliff.

He was beginning to realize the depth of his feelings for you, but it was like trying to catch a falling star with bare hands—beautiful, elusive, and fraught with danger. You had stirred something in him that he thought was long dead, a flicker of warmth in the cold expanse of his heart. It was as if you had reignited a fire that he had buried deep beneath layers of sorrow and self-preservation.

Yet, with every flicker of warmth came a wave of fear. Joel’s desire to protect you was intertwined with his dread of falling too deeply, of losing himself in a love that might only lead to more pain. He was terrified of opening up, of allowing himself to be vulnerable again. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down into the abyss of his own emotions, afraid to take that final step.

The night wore on, and Joel’s thoughts remained tangled in the delicate threads of his emotions. The whiskey continued to burn its way through him, a temporary balm for the deeper ache that lingered just beneath the surface. As he drank, he found himself grappling with the realization that, for the first time in a very long time, he felt truly alive—an unsettling, exhilarating sensation that both frightened and exhilarated him.

Tommy watched him, the lines of concern etched deeply on his face as he took in Joel’s introspective silence. “You alright there, brother? Something on your mind?”

Joel looked up, the weight of his feelings heavy in his gaze. “Yeah, just... thinking about things."

Tommy leaned in, his eyes steady and empathetic. The soft strains of “Helplessly Hoping” played in the background, its melancholic melody wrapping around the room like a comforting blanket. He adjusted the volume on his Bluetooth stereo, the music providing a gentle backdrop to their conversation.

“You can talk to me, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice steady and reassuring. “What’s got you so wrapped up in your thoughts?”

Joel took a deep breath, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he considered his response. The song’s delicate notes seemed to echo his own uncertainty. He knew he couldn’t lay everything bare—there were things he couldn’t quite put into words, and a person he wasn’t ready to reveal.

“It’s... complicated,” Joel began, his gaze fixed on the amber liquid. “There’s someone in my life who’s making me rethink a lot of things.”

Tommy’s interest piqued, but he remained patient. “Complicated how? If you need advice, I’m here.”

Joel hesitated, the words feeling too heavy to articulate. “I’ve been closed off for a long time. Lost my way after... well, after everything. And now... I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s like she’s pulled me out of this dark place I’ve been in.”

Tommy’s expression softened, sensing the depth of Joel’s struggle. “So this person, she’s important to you?”

Joel nodded slowly, his voice rough with emotion. “Yeah. She’s... making me feel alive again. But it’s not simple. I’m afraid of what it means, and I’m scared of letting myself fall too deep.”

Tommy took a thoughtful sip of his drink, considering Joel’s words. “You know, sometimes the hardest part is letting go of the past. You’ve been through a lot, Joel. But if this person is bringing light into your life, maybe that’s something worth holding onto.”

Joel glanced at Tommy, his eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and apprehension. “But what if it’s just a fleeting feeling? What if I’m setting myself up for more hurt?”

Tommy shook his head, his demeanor calm and grounded. “Nothing in life is guaranteed. But you can’t keep living in fear of what might happen. Sometimes you have to take a chance, even if it’s scary. You’ve got to ask yourself if the risk is worth the potential for happiness.”

Joel considered Tommy’s words, the song’s lyrics mingling with his thoughts like a haunting reminder of his inner turmoil. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I do,” Tommy replied. “Love’s not easy. It’s messy and unpredictable, but that’s part of what makes it so powerful. If you’re feeling something genuine, maybe it’s worth exploring, even if it means facing your fears.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, the weight of Tommy’s advice settling over him. The whiskey had lost some of its warmth, replaced by a cold clarity that made his choices seem more imminent. “I just don’t want to mess things up. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Tommy clapped Joel on the back, a gesture of camaraderie and support. “You won’t know unless you try."

The room fell silent, save for the soft strains of the song and the occasional clink of glasses. Joel’s mind raced with the possibility of what could be, the fear and excitement warring within him. He knew the path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of hope—a faint light guiding him through the darkness.

***

The night fair in Houston was alive with energy and light, a vibrant spectacle against the dark sky. As you and Joel arrived, the fairgrounds were bustling with people, the air filled with the sweet scent of cotton candy and the tantalizing aroma of various foods from the stalls.

Joel parked the car and you both walked hand in hand through the fair. The distant music of carnival rides and the laughter of children filled the air. Brightly colored lights illuminated the various attractions, casting a magical glow over the scene.

You and Joel started with the classic fare: fluffy cotton candy, crisp corn dogs, and a shared bucket of buttery popcorn. You laughed as Joel tried to guess which food would be the most calorie-laden, joking about how he was saving up for a “cheat day” in honor of the fair. The two of you wandered through the stalls, stopping occasionally to admire the trinkets and games.

At one point, you spotted the towering Ferris wheel, its lights twinkling like a cascade of stars against the night sky. You eagerly suggested riding it, and Joel, though hesitant at first, agreed with a soft chuckle. As the Ferris wheel slowly lifted you high above the fairgrounds, you marveled at the breathtaking view of the city below. The lights danced like fireflies, and for a moment, everything felt serene and perfect.

Afterward, you both ventured into the various game booths, trying your luck at the ring toss, shooting galleries, and more. Joel’s competitive spirit shone through as he focused intently on a ring toss game, and with a triumphant grin, he managed to win you a large, cuddly teddy bear.

You clutched the bear tightly, beaming up at Joel. “You did it! Thank you!”

Joel chuckled, the warmth in his eyes reflecting the festive lights around you. “I promised I’d win you something special, didn’t I?”

You hug him and then saw a photobooth, "Oh my god! They have photobooth, let's go, Joel!"

Joel followed you to the photobooth, his initial reluctance evident in the furrow of his brow. “Come on, doll. I told you, I don’t like my picture taken. I’m not exactly a fan of how I look in photos.”

You tugged on his hand, laughing as you pulled him towards the booth. “Oh, come on, Joel. It’ll be fun! And besides, we don’t have any photos of us together. I want to remember this night.”

Joel sighed, but the hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Alright, alright. But don’t expect me to be smiling too pretty.”

Inside the photobooth, you both squeezed in, the cramped space adding to the charm of the moment. You set the timer and started with silly faces, pulling exaggerated expressions that made Joel chuckle despite himself. You blew kisses at him and cheekily tried to steal a few pecks, each one making him smile more genuinely.

Joel’s smiles grew softer, his eyes tender as he watched you. In the final frame, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, which prompted you to pull him closer. The moment turned more intimate, and you both ended up sharing a sweet, lingering kiss, captured forever in the final photo.

When the strip of photos emerged, you grinned at the sequence of images. Each picture captured a different facet of your shared joy and affection. You turned to the attendant and asked, “Do you have a pen?”

After receiving a pen, you carefully wrote on the photo strip, “Me and Joel. Houston.” You then showed Joel the photos, laughing as you did. “Look at these! They’re so cute. I’m keeping one for myself.”

Joel took the photo strip, his gaze soft as he looked at the images. “They turned out pretty good, huh?” He smiled, his tone warm and genuine.

You carefully folded one photo and tucked it into your wallet, a small keepsake of your time together. Joel slipped his into his wallet, keeping it close. “I’ll keep mine with me too,” he said, a hint of emotion in his voice. “It’s a nice reminder of tonight.”

As you both left the photobooth, the night air felt a bit cooler, but the warmth between you lingered. Joel’s gestures and the shared laughter had added a special touch to the evening. The fair had been a whirlwind of excitement, but it was these small, tender moments that made the night unforgettable.

As the night wore on, you both decided to head back to the house in Houston. The drive was filled with playful banter and comfortable silence. Joel’s excitement about showing you his latest project was palpable.

Arriving at the house, Joel led you inside. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

You followed him up the stairs to the master bedroom, the anticipation evident in his step. When you entered the room, you were struck by how beautifully it had been transformed. The walls were a rich, warm brown, and the classic-modern furnishings blended seamlessly with a touch of Southern charm. The bed was made with crisp, white linens, and the room was thoughtfully decorated with subtle touches that made it feel inviting and elegant.

“Oh, Joel,” you said, your eyes wide with admiration. “This is amazing. Did you really do all this by yourself?”

Joel nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. “Yeah. I figured if we’re going to be spending a lot of time here, it should be comfortable. We’ve been making do with the sofa in the upstairs balcony, and I didn’t want you to keep feeling cramped.”

You walked around the room, touching the smooth surfaces and taking in the details. “It’s perfect. I love it. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Joel’s gaze softened as he watched you. “I wanted it to be a nice space for us. You’ve been spending a lot of time here, and I wanted you to feel at home. This is our place now.”

You looked back at him, touched by his gesture. “Thank you, Joel. It’s more than I could have imagined. It feels like a real home.”

Joel’s eyes held a mixture of affection and vulnerability. “I’m glad you like it. It’s important to me that you’re comfortable."

You placed the teddy bear on the bedside and flopped onto the bed, the plush comfort enveloping you. You patted the space beside you with a playful smile. “Come on, join me."

Joel hesitated for a moment, then slowly shrugged off his jacket, placing it carefully on the chair. He set his phone and wallet on the nightstand, his movements deliberate and unhurried. With a deep breath, he settled onto the bed beside you, the mattress giving slightly under his weight.

The bed was indeed as comfortable as it looked, and you felt a sense of contentment settle over you as you nestled closer to Joel. He positioned himself beside you, his presence warm and reassuring. For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift, leaving just the two of you in this peaceful cocoon.

Joel’s hand found yours, their touch a simple yet profound connection. He glanced at you, his eyes reflecting a blend of affection and introspection. “You alright?”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder. “Yeah, just... happy. You make me really happy. Thank you, Joel.”

Joel’s lips curved into a tender smile before he leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was both passionate and soft, a dance of longing and tenderness that spoke more than words ever could. It was as if in that single moment, you both were saying everything that words might fail to express.

When you finally pulled back, you looked into his eyes, your voice steady but filled with earnest emotion. “Joel, I think I’m ready.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Ready for what?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your words. “I’m ready for you.”

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. “Sweetheart, it’s okay if you’re not. I don’t want to rush you into anything. We can take our time.”

You shook your head, your resolve unwavering. “No, I’m ready. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Joel’s gaze softened, but he was still cautious. “I want to make sure you’re absolutely certain. This is a big step, and I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

The more you talked, the more you felt a growing sense of frustration. You shifted away from him, sitting up and turning to face him, your emotions bubbling to the surface. “What’s wrong with you, Joel? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

Joel’s voice was gentle, trying to calm you. “It’s not that, darlin’. I just want to make sure you’re ready. It’s important to me that you feel secure.”

Your eyes filled with a mix of hurt and desperation. “Is it because I’m no longer a virgin? Because I’m not pure? Because of what Jamie did to me?”

Joel's eyes filled with a deep sorrow as he reached out to hold your hand, but you pulled away, your voice trembling with anguish. "What? Baby, it’s not that..."

Before Joel could finish, you cut him off, your words laced with desperation. "Because I'm dirty? Is that it?"

Joel's face crumpled with pain, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “No, sweetheart, that’s not it at all. It’s never been about you being dirty.”

You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle to convey his feelings without causing you more hurt. “Then what is it? I need to know, Joel.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “It’s about protecting you. You've been through a lot, and I’m scared of making things worse for you. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to prove anything to me. This... this is about making sure that when we take this step, it’s because we both feel right about it, not because of anything else.”

Your heart ached with the raw honesty in his voice. “I’m not trying to prove anything, Joel. I just... I want us to be close. I thought we were ready.”

Joel’s hand reached out again, but this time you let him take it. His grip was firm but gentle. “I know you do. And I want that too. But I also want to be sure that we’re both in the right place. I don’t want to rush things and have you regret it. I care about you too much for that.”

The sincerity in his voice, combined with the tenderness of his touch, began to ease the tumult inside you. “I’m sorry if I’ve been pushing too hard,” you whispered, your voice softening.

Joel shook his head, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s natural to feel this way."

"But, Joel, I'm ready. You won't hurt me." You said, trying to let Joel know how much you trusted him.

Joel hesitated, searching your eyes for any doubt. "Are you really sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, taking his large hand in yours, marveling at the size difference. Slowly, you brought his hand to your lips, kissing it gently. Then, you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking it slowly. Joel’s breath hitched, and you could see the desire in his eyes.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours tentatively. The kiss deepened, and you felt a warmth spread through you, a feeling of being completely and utterly connected. As the kiss grew more passionate, you both slowly began to undress, your clothes falling away like the petals of a flower, revealing the soft, delicate parts of yourselves.

Joel’s touch was gentle, his hands exploring your body with reverence. Every caress was like a whisper of devotion, his fingers tracing patterns of love on your skin. He kissed you again, his lips moving from your mouth to your neck, to your collarbone, each kiss a promise of his love and care.

As Joel carefully helped you remove your dress, your scars were now fully visible to him. His eyes took them in, and you saw the mixture of sorrow and anger that flashed across his face. It broke Joel's heart to see what your father had done to you, and a deep anger simmered beneath his gentle exterior.

You opened your mouth to speak, to tell Joel how ashamed you felt, but he cut you off, his voice firm but tender. “There’s no need to be ashamed about it. You are beautiful, you are gorgeous to me.”

His words were a balm to your soul, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. Joel’s hands were steady as he continued to undress you, his touch filled with a mixture of gentleness and determination. He seemed to understand the depth of your vulnerability, treating you with the utmost care.

Joel seemed like the kind of guy who talked you through it during sex, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of your anxiety. “You’re safe with me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ve got you. We’ll take this slow, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. Joel’s hands continued their exploration, his fingers tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your heart ache. He was so careful, so deliberate, as if he were afraid you might break beneath his touch.

He reached for a condom, his actions slow and deliberate, ensuring that everything was as safe as it could be. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised, his voice a low murmur. “We’ll take this at your pace.”

You nodded again, your trust in him unwavering. As Joel moved above you, his eyes locked onto yours, you felt a connection that went beyond the physical. It was a melding of souls, a deep, unspoken bond that made you feel cherished and adored.

Joel entered you slowly, his movements careful and measured. You moaned as he growls. The sensation was different. There was no pain, no fear, just a deep sense of intimacy and connection and pleasure.

Joel’s voice continued to guide you, his words a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re amazing.”

Every movement, every touch, was filled with a tenderness that took your breath away. Joel’s hands were everywhere, caressing your skin, holding you close, ensuring that you felt nothing but love and care. The rhythm of his movements was like a dance, slow and deliberate, each motion a careful expression of his devotion to you.

His hands glided over your body, memorizing the feel of you beneath his fingers. He took his time, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding you in the present moment. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that made your skin tingle with anticipation.

As he moved within you, the initial tension melted away, replaced by a growing sense of pleasure and intimacy. Joel’s eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with love and reassurance. Each thrust was measured, his hips rocking against yours in a steady rhythm that built a slow, burning heat between you.

"Oh, Joel," you moan as he keep thrust inside you, your back arched, your eyes rolling deep to above. "Fuck, you're so tight," he cursed.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, his voice a soothing murmur. “You feel so good.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding to the sincerity and warmth in his tone. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solid weight of him against you. The connection between you deepened, each movement syncing perfectly with the other, creating a beautiful harmony.

Joel’s breath was warm against your ear, his voice a low, steady murmur of encouragement and love. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. You’re perfect.”

The way he spoke to you, the care in his touch, made you feel cherished and adored. The pleasure built slowly, a rising wave that grew stronger with each gentle thrust. Joel’s hands found yours, intertwining your fingers, creating a bond that felt unbreakable.

His pace quickened slightly, you felt amazing and wanting for more. As the heat between you intensified, your hands found their way to his back, clutching him closer.

"Joel..."

"Oh my god, Joel,"

Your voice filled the room, moaning his name and calling out, “Oh God, please.” Joel’s eyes darkened with a mix of passion and determination.

“God’s not here, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “God’s not here to save you this time.”

The words sent a thrill through you, and you felt your body responding even more intensely. The feeling was almost overwhelming, and you begged him to go faster. Joel obliged, his movements becoming more urgent, each thrust deeper and more powerful.

The sound of the bed creaking added to the symphony of your shared pleasure, mingling with the moans and groans that filled the room. The intensity of the sensations building within you was almost too much to bear. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of release, every fiber of your being focused on the incredible feeling Joel was creating inside you.

Joel’s breathing grew ragged, his own moans mixing with yours as he drove deeper into you. “You feel so good,” he cursed under his breath, his voice raw with need. “So tight, so perfect.”

The rhythm of his thrusts was relentless, each one driving you closer to the brink. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as the pressure built, a wave of ecstasy that was about to crash over you.

“Joel...I’m close,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as the sensation peaked.

Joel’s grip on you tightened, his movements becoming almost frantic as he chased his own release. “Cum for me, baby,” he urged, his voice a desperate plea.

With a final, powerful thrust, you felt yourself shatter, your climax washing over you in a tidal wave of pleasure. Your body tensed and then released, a cry of ecstasy escaping your lips. Joel followed moments later, his own release tearing through him, a groan of pure satisfaction as he found his pleasure within you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound the mingled breathing of you and Joel as you lay intertwined. The intensity of what you had just shared left you both breathless, your bodies still connected in the aftermath of your shared passion.

Joel’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hands gently stroked your back, a soothing gesture that made you feel safe and cherished. “You are amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and tenderness. “So beautiful.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with the love and connection you felt with him. “You too,” you replied softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, his touch tender and loving. “Thank you for trusting me,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with a depth of emotion that made your heart skip a beat.

You nodded, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You have to say it, you need to say you love him.

Taking a deep breath, you cupped his face in your hands, looking deep into his eyes. “Joel, I... I love you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with vulnerability and sincerity.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Joel’s eyes widened slightly, and then softened with an intensity that took your breath away. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as if committing the moment to memory.

“I love you too, baby,” he replied, his voice husky with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

The words wrapped around your heart, filling you with a warmth and security you had never felt before. Joel’s lips found yours again, this time with a deeper, more fervent kiss, a promise of his unwavering love and devotion.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of completeness, as if everything in your life had led to this very moment. The love you shared was a balm to your soul, healing wounds you had long thought would never mend.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, but the connection between you was stronger than ever. Joel rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, savoring the closeness.

“I’ll always be here for you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead. “No matter what.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the truth of his words settle deep within your heart. “I know,” you whispered back, your voice filled with quiet certainty. “And I’ll always be here for you, too.”

With that, you both drifted off to sleep, your hearts and souls entwined, ready to face whatever the future held together.

192 notes · View notes

bubybubsters · 4 months ago

Text

No Yes (T. Nott x reader)

a/n: @thatdammchickennugget jinxed july

prompt: "I can't say 'no' to you.'

THIS IS THE FLUFF VERSION

FIND THE ANGST VERSION HERE (only if you want to cry)

"Shut up," Pansy hissed from the front of your 7 person group.

A grumble of annoyance and various sarcastic comments were her only response. You could see her scowl and smiled despite the look in her eyes.

The lot of you had snuck onto hogwarts grounds and were now peeking out of the forbidden forest. "Guys, sprint towards the lake in 10 seconds," you mumbled, effectively shutting everyone up.

"Set... Go!"

You burst out the bushes dragging your boyfriend, Theodore Nott, with you. The two of you ran for the lake, trying not to laugh at the insanity of what you were doing.

The moment you reached the lake you started on protective spells that would block you from being spotted or heard. Draco stood to your left, copying your movements and carefully weaving the two of your spells together.

Blaise and Mattheo started setting up 4 couples tents (even though Lorenzo was on his own) and Theo started pulling out food. The second you were done you went to help him but he grabbed your hand and led you away.

"Theo!" You whisper chastising him softly.

"Shh bella, just wanted a moment with you." He presses kisses to your neck, making you arch into his body.

"We really shouldn't-" he cuts you off with a soft bite on your pressure point.

You give in, letting him leave marks along your collarbones.

"I'm gonna do something special for you." He grumbles. "I'm going to make you fall in love with me all over again."

Later that night, you're sitting on the edge of the lake, legs dangling in the cool water.

"Hey principessa." Theo sits next to you, now bare-chested and with a bottle of wine in hand.

"Swim with me?" He asks, smiling sweetly at you.

"Of course," you roll your eyes, "You should know by now, I can't say 'no' to you!"

Theo's eyes light up, brighter than ever, and as if in response, the world becomes more vibrant. Sounds seem more full, touches more whole. You decide you love this new world.

That night, everything seems to pass in a blur; you and Theo exchanging kisses in the dark, trading sips of wine. Theo carrying you out of the water and peppering you with kisses before slipping you into your sleeping bag and wrapping his arms around you.

As your breathing evens out you remember hearing softly spoken words that really do cause you to fall in love with Theo all over again.

"I love you, forever, even when we're gone and only specs in the ground. I will love you, bend to your every whim, make all your dreams come true. I promise you that."

That night is the second time you fall asleep with a smile on your face (the first being after your first date with Theo.)

The next day came and you woke up to a charming boyfriend and a picnic basket. The two of you sat outside and laughed at Draco trying to charm his girlfriend into diving off a cliff with him. He ended up being pushed off and screaming like the blonde baby he is.

That day was the best day of your life (or so you thought at the time).

A year and a half later, on your anniversary to Theo.

Your smile at the milky way, eyes tracking the stars across the night sky. Oh how you loved them, the constellations, the glowing nebulas, and mostly, the glistening moon.

"Theo!" You turn and your voice dies off as you gawk at the sight before you. Your boyfriend, on one knee, ring in hand, smirking at you.

"Theo..." you murmur in complete awe.

He smiles at you, watercolor eyes shining. "Y/n, will you do me the extreme honor, of marrying me?"

"Yes!" The word is ripped out of your lips. You fall to your knees, wrapping your arms around your now fiancé. "Yes, yes, yes, of course I'll marry you! I can't say 'no' to you, remember?

That day becomes your favorite day in the whole world.

thank you @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#bubybubsters #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott #theo nott #harry potter fandom #slytherin boys #slytherin #jinxedjuly

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uyuforu · 1 year ago

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Pick-a-Card: Your future Partner

₊ ⊹ ALLEGEDLY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY₊ ⊹

pile 1 -> pile 2 -> pile 3 ;; pick an image and scroll down to read your reading

Pile 1 - ₊˚⊹♡

Ekta Oracle: The Medicine; The mind; The Balance + The Knife

Celeste Astrokiff Oracle: The Ruin; Aquarius Upright; The Guide; Pluto Upright + Sagittarius Reversed

Original Tarot de Marseille: 2 of wands reversed; The World; Ace of wands; The Tower reversed; The Empress; 7 of swords + The Chariot

Botticelli Tarot de Marseille: 9 of swords reversed; 2 of pentacles; Queen of wands; Jack of swords; The fool reversed; Knight of pentacles reversed; 5 of swords + Queen of cups reversed

Lenormand Oracle: The cross; The Man; The whip; The storks; The mouses; The fox + The woman

Love Languages Oracles: The wickedness; The same wavelength; Destiny's key; News incoming + Happiness, joy & felicity

𓆞𓆝 𓆟 Don't forget that it's a general reading so take what resonates. If you don't resonate with this pile, you can choose another one. If you don't resonate with any of the piles, it just means there is no messages for you today. Don't take informations you are not comfortable with, and take care of yourself 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

-> So this pile has a very strong message. There is a feeling that your future partner is currently healing from something very strong, something very powerful but mostly something very wicked. They could have had a sort of illness, they could have been the victim of someone, but there is a very bad energy there. The healing can be mental healing, seeing a therapist, or even medicine. For a lot of you, this person was mentally abused. It's a trauma that happened and they are healing currently. But it still hurt a lot to them. If you never met this person before, you could meet them during their healing process. This person could be an Aquarius or/ and has strong Pluto's placement in their chart. I see this person to really have their heart broken from what happened, they feel like their heart, even life, has been destroyed, my heart feels very heavy. They can appear as quite different, an outsider, or just someone who is unique, and people can not get them, or just think of them as the black sheep. Their healing will guide them towards a strong and meaningful transformation. But it's extremely hard for them.

I see something blocking them, or it was the case in the future. It's like they had a really big conflict, or they lived a situation with a lot of heavy blockages in their life. But it suddenly feels like things will get better, they will get through a healing phase and they will feel so much better afterwards. It's like their healing will push them to take new beginnings, new opportunities, new projects, they will just feel so much alive, it feels like their rebirth. The cards are saying, the reason why it happened was because it was meant to happen. There is always a reason for our tower moments in life. This one happened because your future partner needed to change. They needed healing, and may have not understand it before. The hard moments happened because they needed to learn a lesson, to transform themselves. I feel like this person used to be close-minded and very judgmental before, but with the healing phase, they will become open-minded, more generous and kind towards others. It's like they will open themselves to their feminine side. It was maybe unbalanced before. Cards are saying your person will be rewarded for their hard work in their healing phase, they will become more energetic, and more extroverted too.

I have messages about the two of you. I'm not sure you know this person, but I feel like it doesn't matter. You will enter this person's life to help them through their healing era. I sense this person will not be healed fully when you guys meet, but your presence, your help, just you will help them see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's like seeing you will motivate even more to heal. There is a sense of admiration towards you. You will motivate them to face the truth, and the healing. It will be extremely hard, but they know it's for the better. You will help them find a balance back in their life, it's truly destiny if you guys meet. You are their reward.

Pile 2 - ₊˚⊹♡

Ekta Oracle: The cup; The city; The bunny + The link

Celeste Astrokiff Oracle: 1st house; Capricorn; 4th house; 10th house; Saturn + Jupiter

Original Tarot de Marseille: Jack of wands; King of cups; Ace of swords; 4 of pentacles reversed; The moon reversed; 5 of pentacles reversed + The justice

Botticelli Tarot de Marseille: 3 of swords; The hierophant; 8 of pentacles; The sun; 7 of pentacles; 2 of pentacles + The star

Lenormand Oracle: The lucky charm; The house; The mask; The clouds; The letter; The ring + The fox

Love Languages Oracles: Past coming back; Good harvest; Setbacks; Destiny's Key + Fidelity

-> This person is someone who seems to be pretty established in life already. Someone who have their money, their place, they are independent. They work, they have their life and do not live with their parents anymore. There is a feeling of being the boss, owning their life. Ambitious person. Money is very important to them, they could invest a lot. They may live in a big city. A city where things are moving fast, people are always in a hurry, they could also be in a hurry all the time. I sense that for some of you, you know this person? There is a feeling of already knowing each other, or you guys will feel like you always knew each other. I think they can seem or be a bit selfish sometimes: their business, their life and even themselves are very important for them. They invest a lot of their times into themselves, but can seem selfish sometimes. Capricorn can be significant, 1st, 4th, 10th house too, Saturn and Jupiter too. I think this is a very lucky person. It feels like they succeed everything they do, or get everything they want. They are not good at manifesting, they are just very hard working. They see their legacy as the most important thing for them. This is why they work so hard. So accomplishing, and their career are soooo important to them. They appear as the real Daddy type (nothing s3xual lol), but there is this strong masculine and dominant energy.

Such a hard working person! They work so hard for what they do. Don't call them lazy because they will def take it as the worst thing you could ever say to them lmao. They have a cup to provide to you, this is the kind of mature person to offer you their cup, and offer you stability. A true King (because of the king of cups lol, nothing to do with gender). If success was a person, that would be them. They are so victorious. To be honest, I think this person didn't grow in money, and saw it as security. They worked hard because they may have been poor when growing up. For them, money was the answer to a happy life. But don't be mistaken, this person is not shallow haha. They are actually good at questioning himself. He doesn't think only him matters. They are well educated, and even went to college for sure. To them, they just want to be the most successful they can be, and want to be able to provide money for their loved one. They just work so hard for their money. And negotiating money could be a thing in their job. And signing contracts relating to money too. Their job can be very anxious at time. I think you will feel like, or already feel like if you know them, that this person has no time for you, and it may feel like that at times. They are so busy with their job and life, you just feel like a burden. But don't worry because this person will maker you feel like you belong with them. They will make sure to make you fit in their life.

Pile 3 - ₊˚⊹♡

Ekta Oracle: The knife; The feather; The books + The exchange

Celeste Astrokiff Oracle: Treason; The sun; Woman's star + Virgo

Original Tarot de Marseille: Jack of pentacles; 7 of wands; 9 of swords; Knight of swords; 2 of wands reversed; 7 of cups + The strength

Botticelli Tarot de Marseille: 6 of wands; Knight of swords; 2 of pentacles; 10 of swords reversed; Ace of cups; 4 of pentacles reversed + The devil

Lenormand Oracle: The tower; The sun; The mountain; The tree; The woman; The magnificent glass + The house

Love Languages Oracles: Total success; Passionate love; Setbacks; Break-up + Destiny's key

-> So, first of all, if you don't know this person, then it's not your pile. This pile feels so situation-ship, ex, or even friends with always something that has been going on. There is a vibe here of someone who hurt the other by text, or it's something that has been said, or something written (text, email, letter, etc.). But it was on purpose. So either you or this person wrote to the other person to tell them something, some piece of information that hurt the other. It could totally be intentional, or not, but it def hurt. If it was something someone posted online for ex for the other to see, it was still something that hurt, and it was a sort of information shared. You could totally be in a distant or no contact situation with this person. You or them felt like there was a betrayal.

But!! There is clarity. One of you see or finally realize that the other person is the one for them. You or them always wanted to be with you/ them (takes as it resonates). It's a sudden realization. Someone wants to come back to make things right. Someone thinks now is the best time to take actions, everything seem to be alined perfectly. Someone could have been like a seducer, before or been seen this way by the other person. Someone could have been blocked, or this person felt stuck before. Like they couldn't come forward. But now they know the other person is their person, and it's like they came to realization they want to marry them.

This person has thought a lot of what they want to say, and they are ready to come forward and defend their thoughts and actions. They won't give up easily. If you have been waiting for someone to come back into your life, this is huge sign. Or if you wanted to come back in someone's life. There will be communication, and the person who will come forward (you or them) will express how hard it was to be without the other person, and how cruel life has been. They will express that they are ready to give their cup. I'm not sure you guys ever been in a relationship before to be honest, it felt like to be in a relationship with them has never been experienced before. But they want to try, and they will express it when they come forward. They want to be with the other person. There are so much desire for each other, you guys can feel the pull towards each other. But there might be a lack of financial stability that can come in the way to each other. There is much love, it's very passionate for sure. The person needed time to realize they feelings, time apart each other only made them realized their love for the other person. This person wants to come forward and build a life with the other person. They want stability together.

Thank you so much fo reading, I hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to like (even comment your pile if you want) and follow for more content ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

back to index ; ask ; requests ; rules

#tarot #tarot reading #pac #pick a card #divination #prediction #future partner #future boyfriend #future girlfriend #future spouse #love tarot reading #love tarot #love pac #love pick a card

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thegreymarveljedi · 15 days ago

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Permanent Scars

(Hunter + Omega + Echo (NO ROMANCE!!))

This is a fic that was requested to me by @genericficerblog

I apologize for how short it is and for how long it took me to finish but I am actually quite proud of how this turned out!

Characters: Omega, Hunter, Echo

Type(s): Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Setting: Rex's Ship

Era: Shortly after Season 3 Episode 7

Other Small Details: Omega mentions something about her time on Kamino when talking about Tantiss. When Hunter and Echo probe a bit later, Omega gives an insight into the horrors she endured.

Please also include Omega showing her extensively IV Scarred Upper Arms/

(I hope this isn't too heavy for you)

This is not my usual type of story but I think branching out and writing different things is good and I think it helped me a lot.

I also want to preface again that there is NOTHING ROMANTIC BETWEEN THESE CHARACTERS. Whatever is in this story is strictly between siblings. If anyone tries to say otherwise you will be blocked from my page indefinitely.

Warning: ANGST!!, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of medical procedures, needles, scarring, medical equipment, neglect, mistreatment, loneliness, Hunter and Echo being dads.

(DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY ANYTHING MENTIONED IN THE WARNINGS ABOVE!! There are plenty of other fluffy stories on my Masterlist that are not angsty)

Words: 1.2K

—————

The ship was quiet for now, not many words to be spoken between the group after their losses on Teth. Rex and Hunter continued to speak in hushed voices as everyone else tried to shake off the awful feelings of the close calls.

Omega had woken up and was still leaning against batcher, just looking at the needle scaring on her left hand. She was used to endless needles from her time on Kamino and just like those scars, these would fade but never go away.

Omega stood up and walked over to Echo, taking his hand in hers. Echo jumped a little at the contact, not expecting Omega to be up.

“Everything okay kid?” He asked and kneeled down to her height, checking her over briefly.

“Do we have any bacta on board?” She asked quietly. Echo’s eyes went a little wide and he gave her another once over but Omega stopped him by raising her hand.

“I’m not hurt, I just want to put some on to help the scars fade,” she said and Echo visibly winced at the many needle marks etched into the young girls hand.

“Yeah, let’s go get you some,” Echo said and ushered Omega to the back of the ship, helping her sit up on the cot they had there.

Hunter had heard the whole exchange and from where he stood with Rex, excusing himself to check on Omega when he walked into the space, he closed the door to give the three of them privacy, walking over and giving Omega a short hug.

Omega returned the embrace readily, let her shoulders relax. Echo returned with bacta not a moment later and Hunter helped Omega out of her jacket, only to be left in her outfit from Pabu.

“How are you feeling Omega?” Hunter asked, checking Omega over just as Echo had done.

“I’m doing fine,” she replied shortly as Echo pulled up the sleeve of her left arm to rest in the middle of her forearm. He took her hand a gentle began to massage the bacta into it, being mindful not to apply so much pressure to the still slightly tender skin.

Omega closed her eyes and tried to breathe, not used to having anyone but AZ to help her with this process. Hunter Nnoticed and put his hand on Omegas shoulder, encouraging her to take deep breathes.

“I’m sorry if it hurts kid,” Echo said as he finished up, closing up the tube of bacta and going to put it away.

“It’s okay. Nothing I haven’t gone through before,” she said, looking down at her now bactaed and wrapped hand.

“What do you mean?”

“What?”

“What do you mean it’s nothing you haven’t been through before?”

Omega hesitated with her response, not having fully discussed with her brothers the exact treatment she received on Kamino. She trusted them immensely but this was something she didn’t like talking about. Echo had returned and was now standing with Hunter, not wanting to push Omega but also curious as to what she meant. She sighed, knowing it was futile to hide anything from her brothers.

“Tantiss wasn’t pleasant by any means. But somehow I was able to endure what they put me through. The needles everyday, the sight of my brothers beaten down and broken, the stoic faces of the doctors and the unforgiving loneliness I felt,” she spoke softly and Echo and Hunter listened. Both of them felt guilty for her capture after Eriadu, the lost of Tech hitting everyone hard and making them vulnerable.

“It felt almost like Kamino in a way. I was alone except for Nala se, the other Kaminoans were never mean but they also weren’t welcoming to me. Watching everyday as more of my brother came in from the front lines injured or shaken up was awful,” she took a deep breath, wiping away some of the tears that had gathered in her eyes. Recounting her time on either planet was hard, but she wanted to push through talking about it.

Omega rolled up her sleeves further and both Hunter and echo gasped at the shear about of scars that littered her arms. There were about 100 needle scars between both arms, some patches of skin bruised to indicate some kind of patch being used as well. There were a few scars along her forearms that indicated a scalpel had been used and burn marks here or there. Her arms were covered in them, all reminders of her time on Kamino not just as a science experiment, but as a prisoner.

“Omega,” Hunter whispered almost silently. She put up her hand to stop him as she kept talking.

“I was an experiment to them and nothing more. To Nala se, I was like a daughter but one that she could use as a test subject without feeling guilty about it. My blood was take, parts of my skin were tests, I was hooked up to wires almost everyday,” the haunted tone behind her voice made Echo turn away briefly to wipe his own eyes, flashes from his time on Skako Minor returning to him. She stood up and moved the hem of her pants down just the slightest bit to show the scars on her hips as well.

“They took bone marrow, part of my liver, so many things were taken and they always left scars. With time they faded and with AZ’s help I put bacta on them to help them heal and fade faster but the scars are permanent,” Omega said and readjusted her clothes, making sure that her scars were covered up once again.

“It’s not something I like talking about but I guess it gets easier when I do. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” She said and Hunter enveloped her in a tight hug, leaving no room for argument.

“You have nothing to apologize for Omega, none of this was your fault. Not Kamino, not Tantiss, not any of it,” Hunter spoke softly, his own tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he held his sister. Echo wrapped his arms around both of them, trying his best to contain his emotions as he patted Omega’s back gently.

“You’re safe now Omega. You’ll never be alone again. No one will hurt you anymore and you won’t have to go back to either of those awful places,” Echo said and he felt Omega nod into the hug, her shoulders shaking with raw emotions.

“Thank you. Both of you, for never giving up on me.”

“You’re our kid Omega. You always will be.”

Echo nodded in agreement as he pulled away from the hug. Hunter slowly did as well, keeping close to Omega as she wiped her eyes.

“Thank you listening to me. I know it’s not easy to hear about this, especially for you Echo,” she said and looked to him. Echo shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Like you said, it gets easier the more you open up about it,” he said and squeezed he shoulder very gently. Omega smiled at him and wiped away the last of her tears.

“We’ll protect you kid. I promise,” Hunter said and helped Omega down from the cot once more. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist again, wanting just one more hug. Hunter happily Obliged, wanting to reassure Omega that she was safe and sound.

—————

If you or someone you know has gone through a traumatic experience, please reach out to a helpline. DON’T go about suffering in silence. You’re loved by people and there are people out there who want to help you❤️

#star wars #sw tcw fanfic #sw tcw #sw tbb #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #sergeant hunter #sw the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #arc trooper echo #star wars tbb #tbb fanfiction #tbb #star wars fanfiction

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sohnric · 10 months ago

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bad idea, right? – k. sunwoo

pairing: soundcloud rapper! sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: exes to lovers, angst, suggestive. i know this is toxic as fuck dont @ me sometimes i like to write shit like this because it's realistic...

word count: 4k

warnings: a whole lot of arguing, swearing, both of them being toxic and childish, a heated makeout session, overall just..messy. so messy.

a/n: similivinlife u inspired this. not my proudest moment but oh well 😵 the original of this draft was for the fic dancing in my backseat on @rrxnjun that i didnt end up using and revamped for this, so if u see any similarities it is because both fics are mine :P and once again, as always, thank u @csenke my sweetest beloved for beta reading 🤍

“I don’t think you can imagine the things I have to deal with about that track, like, I was literally in the town yesterday and around six people stopped me and wanted the backstory and I don’t know what, and it’s really, really annoying–”

Your voice cuts off, being replaced by a beat that makes acid taste on your tongue and hair stand up all alert, like a feral cat’s would when you try to get close to it, making you immediately turn off the song, letting a scream out into your pillow. There’s a storm of emotions inside of you as you take the phone you’ve been listening to the new song on back into your hand and pull up his number– because you blocked him everywhere else in hopes of never seeing his face again– and shoot him an angry text about the matter.

you [7:21pm]: are you kidding me???

you [7:21pm]: you are really so damn egoistical for doing this

you [7:21pm]: really don’t think about anyone else except yourself huh

you [7:21pm]: ignore my messages again like the last time and i swear to god i’ll send someone to beat your ass

Fingers quicker than your own thoughts, you hammer down the messages on the keyboard, laced with the fury that’s been shaking with you ever since you learned that he released a new track that included yet another one of your voice messages you sent to him. It was excruciating to listen to, to say the least– your dignity stripped away slowly, piece by piece with the unsettling realization that your personal matters are now out there in the open, for everyone to see and judge, for the whole world to pick apart and analyze. Which is kind of funny, considering the nature of your breakup– you’re not so sure his fans would like what they would find out about him, had they dug deep enough.

Not saying that you are innocent in this matter, of course– you just don’t think it’s really fair to not have the platform to tell your side of the story.

don’t pick up [7:24pm]: feisty one aren’t ya

don’t pick up [7:24pm]: what’s this about

Clenching your jaw as you stare at the messages popping up on your screen only a few minutes after yours get delivered– which is unusual for him, to say the least– you work your way through another angry reply.

you [7:25pm]: your song???

don’t pick up [7:25pm]: did you like it? ;)

A dry chuckle escapes your throat at the last message. Of course you didn’t like it. You weren’t really a fan of the invasion of your privacy. You didn’t like the fact that he once again used your voice without permission, letting the whole world listen to your angry words that were addressed to him and only him. What was there for you to like about the song? His cheesy lyrics? The way he acted like he was way above you, belittling you with the power he had over you with all those voice messages?

you [7:26pm]: yes i loved the invasion of my privacy a lot, thank you sunwoo

you [7:26pm]: isnt this illegal? ill look into it

don’t pick up [7:27pm]: now you’re being ridiculous.. its just a song y/n :)

Was he being serious? Just a song? What about the prying eyes staring at you whenever you walk through the campus? What about the whispering behind your back whenever you sit in the school cafeteria? The pointed fingers whenever someone recognises that it’s you– the one that dated the good-for-nothing Soundcloud rapper and then broke his poor little heart. Was it ever really just a song?

you [7:28pm]: you cant be fr rn..

don’t pick up [7:33pm]: ah…let’s just talk abt it then

don’t pick up [7:33pm]: i’ll pick u up at 8?

Staring at the messages on the screen, you let out another dry chuckle. The skin of your fingertips tingles when you swipe across the surface of your phone, opening the messaging app once again and tapping on the little bubble on the bottom, making the keyboard appear. The gears in your brain turn in swift motion as you try to sound nonchalant in your response, typing and deleting the message again, never getting the tone quite right.

Responding to your ex boyfriend’s jabs and teasing in person seems to be easier for you, contrary to popular demand– you don’t have much time to think of your answer before the time frame between your arguments would turn too awkward with the silence, so you just say the first thing that comes to your mind. It comes naturally to you, though, and while you don’t particularly enjoy the fury and adrenaline that his smug smirks and jarring words make you feel, the tension his sudden messages built up only makes you more hesitant.

You haven’t met up with Kim Sunwoo since the day you ended things, and you know damn well there’s a good reason for it.

Seeing him around campus or at parties of your mutual friends is a whole other thing than being with him in a closed space, all alone. It’s been a month since you ended things and while you are fairly certain that Sunwoo is a major jerk that is out to ruin your life, you can’t really tell if you’re actually over the major jerk that is out to ruin your life.

Seemingly letting Sunwoo know that you have the chat open, letting him watch your chat bubble pathetically appear and disappear in consistent time intervals, another quick message is shot your way, making your heart drum against your rib cage in even swifter motions. Running your hand through your hair, you sigh and drop the phone into your lap, helpless.

don’t pick up [7:40pm]: i’ll take it as yes

Sighing to yourself, you stand up from your bed and put on some presentable clothes. You don’t want to give Sunwoo any ideas, and that’s why you only change into clean sweatpants and a tank top, not putting much effort into your appearance at all. You need to send him the signal of being nonchalant– although your stance on the way he uses you in his songs is full of anger and resentment, you don’t want it to seem like you care much about the man himself at all.

Dragging yourself out of your room and putting on your shoes, you bump into your roommate Aeri passing you by with a mug of tea, her hair in a towel as she just came out of the shower. “You’re going somewhere?”

“Going out,” you grunt.

“Oh?” she hums, leaning into the doorframe, “with who?”

The question catches you off guard. Turning around on your heel, you flash her an innocent smile, brain thinking of every possible solution you could use to not tell her that you’re going out with the exact person you’ve spent the last few weeks grunting over in dismay. “No one important,” you start, when her face morphs into a distressed frown.

“Is it Sunwoo?”

“Look, I-”

“It is fucking Sunwoo! I heard you scream into your pillow just now, I should’ve known it was that prick again,” she grunts, her guess confirmed by the very obvious discomfort on your face, suddenly in a hurry when you try to get out of the house in one swift motion and save yourself from the cross-examining conversation that’s surely about to happen judging by the look in Aeri’s face.

“I gotta go-”

“What about all your ‘I don’t ever wanna see him again’ talk?” she sighs, clearly disappointed with your life choices.

“Look, it’s about the songs he’s been putting out. He’s being an ass about replying back to my messages and god knows I’m not calling him, or else he’d record it and put it in another song like the freak he is,” you squint your eyes at her, making sure your intentions are clear to your worried roommate.

“Oh, right, because he’s going out with you just to talk,” she mutters, “when all you two have done since you broke up is argue. Mhm, seems about correct,” Aeri adds, making the situation even worse than it already was, because she’s right, after all– when have the two of you held a normal conversation in the past few weeks? Seeing him tonight might just be the worst idea of your life– right after deciding to date him, of course– and you’re completely aware of the fact.

Opening your mouth to answer with a jarring comment meant to put your roommate back in her place, the words are taken off your tongue when you hear the ring of your phone, the notification on your screen flashing with his messages.

don’t pick up [8:04pm]: youre 5 mins late

don’t pick up [8:05pm]: come out

“Look, I gotta go. We’ll talk about this later,” you mumble as you take your bag off the hanger, Aeri’s disapproving eyes following you as you head towards the door.

“Right. Have fun,” she ironically sings, knowing very well what Kim Sunwoo’s intentions are for the night. Still, you fakely gag to her comment before you’re out the door and walking down the entryway.

As your figure walks out of the apartment complex, you almost don’t notice the man. You were expecting him to be waiting just behind the door, resting against the wall as he usually did back when you two were dating. The sight that meets your eye shocks you a little when you find him leaning against a 2007 Audi A4, the silver exterior of the car contrasting with the darkness of his clothes, hands folded on his chest as he watches you with an overly-confident smirk.

“Took you long enough,” he teases as you finally cut through the distance.

“Didn’t know you were so eager to see me,” you bite back, eyes scanning the vehicle. “Did you finally get a car with that new profession of yours? Or is that another one of your friend’s again?” you point towards the car, making the boy chuckle.

“Mine,” he says, “my ‘good-for-nothing career’ is taking off, as you may have noticed,” he hums, referencing all the arguments you two used to have about his dreams and ambitions, making you wince a little at the comment. You never believed in him ever making it big– you just didn’t think his dreams were ever really realistic– but judging by the way it’s been going for him, you must admit you may have been wrong with your snarky arguments before.

“Well, it’s not much, then,” you mutter instead, pretending to judge the state of his old, used-looking car.

“Gets the job done,” he shrugs as he peels himself off the door, opening the passenger side and sparing you a short glance. “Hop in?”

Sunwoo doesn’t wait for you to sit down so he can close the door after you– instead, he walks around the front of the car to the driver’s side, getting in himself– much to the gentleman he’s always been. Making sure you slam the door shut with as much force as you can, just to anger the man and his new toy, you fasten your seatbelt and watch as Sunwoo winces, but doesn’t mention it when he turns the engine on with a turn of the key and drives off the parking lot.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, watching as the male snickers to himself. The calmness of his composure makes you oh so annoyed, making you despise every second spent together with him in the small space breathing in his cologne and listening to the songs playing through the speakers, reminding you of the playlist he’d always put on when he was given the privilege of the aux cord.

“What? Are you scared I’m gonna kill you?” Sunwoo jokes.

“Seeming that you’re batshit crazy, one can’t know what to expect from you nowadays,” you grunt, making him cheese with amusement.

“I thought I was just ‘a loser Soundcloud rapper that can’t do anything in life’,” he repeats to you a sentence you uttered out upon your breakup, the emotions getting the worst out of you after the way he’s been treating you. “Would a loser like me kill you? I don’t think so.”

“Very funny, Sunwoo,” you ironically bite back, rolling your eyes at his composure. The fact that he seemingly has the upper hand on you in the conversation makes you falter a little bit. “I just wanted to talk about the songs you’ve been putting out.”

“You wanted to tell me how much you like them? Thank you, I’m flattered–”

“No, you idiot. I wanted to talk to you about how uncomfortable they’re making me feel!” you yell out, making the male wince.

There’s a momentarily silence in the car as the male drives, the streetlamps disappearing out of sight as he drives away from the city, into more sparse areas. His voice is a little more serious when he speaks up now, the lack of teasing in his tone making shivers run down your spine. “I don’t think it’s that serious, really.”

“Really?” you chuckle. “Because I don’t find it fun when people stop me on the street and ask all about our relationship, Sunwoo. Because I don’t know if you noticed, but you never asked for my permission when you used those.”

The sound of your own voice resonates through your brain, the first voice message he ever used in one of his songs (the one that made him finally more popular, funnily enough) making you sigh out in the darkness of the car. ‘Just.. I dunno, I said sorry, I apologized, I don’t know what more you want me to do.. like, what’s going on? Literally nothing, so like.. can’t we just… move on from this and… fucking let it go?’

“One would think you’d stop sending me these after the first one,” Sunwoo utters out, voice low and almost a little amused, which makes you tip over the edge.

“And I would think you wouldn’t use audio of me being vulnerable with you in a fucking song that everyone would hear, Sunwoo!”

“Oh, did you mean that part where you called me a hypocrite for hanging out with my friends from high school without telling you? Or the part where you cursed me out after you broke up with me because I dared to text you again–”

“I was trying to pierce things back together!” you yell, making the male quiet down, resulting in taking a right turn towards a dead-end, the road approaching a forest. Not a single soul is to be found around here except the two of you, and when he turns the engine off, but stays staring ahead of him towards the trees, you continue with everything you’ve been holding inside of you– instead this time, your voice is more quiet, not having to scream over the sounds of the car anymore.

“I was apologizing. I was trying to make us work, Sunwoo. And just because you didn’t see it or didn’t have it in you to pay attention to me that night, it doesn’t give you the right to exploit me for your gain and make a fool out of me in front of everyone,” you say, watching as the male chews on the inside of his cheek.

“You are the one that broke up with me,” he says into the silence, “not the other way around.”

A moment of silence hangs over you two like a heavy jacket. You were well aware of the fact– you broke up with Sunwoo after the night he went out with all of his female friends from high school, not telling you a thing about it before you found out through an Instagram story of one of them. You knew he was being petty, you knew he was doing it just to get back at you– because you never passed out on a chance to make him feel jealous, getting back at him for all the controlling comments he would make whenever you went out to clubs with your girlfriends– but it still drove you up against the wall and made you break.

Maybe you and Sunwoo weren’t made for each other. There’s no denying that you loved each other– you just didn’t really know how to handle your relationship. You never really learned how to handle problems. How to resolve issues. Both of you were too immature for the other, and it would never work– you only came to this conclusion after many tear-filled evenings, but coming to peace with it is still yet to come.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to this conversation,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

The male scoffs, turning his head towards you, meeting your eye. “Did you even listen to the songs?”

“Of course I did, how else would I know–”

“Then you must have noticed that I’m not making fun of you, or putting you on blast, or belittling you, or whatever you and your friends have said about me for the past month,” he counts on his fingers as he recites the words with an annoyed tone, big eyes bearing into yours.

“You exposed me being vulnerable.”

“I’m vulnerable in these too!” he urges out, eyebrows furrowing at you in exasperation.

“That’s your fucking choice! Don’t drag me into it!”

While you must admit that none of the lyrics Sunwoo’s ever written about you were lies, or making fun of you or throwing harsh words in your direction, you still feel as if a chunk of you has been thrown out in the open, for anyone to pick apart and poke around. You always told Sunwoo you liked his way with words, and there is no denying that his lyrics, although they were painfully honest, were quite beautiful. If you weren’t the one the songs were about, maybe you’d even like them. Maybe you could give them a listen without feeling like you want to crawl out of your skin. Maybe you could add them to your playlist without feeling ashamed that you’re still thinking about the male, picking apart your relationship like every outsider has been doing since the songs went viral, but instead, finding places where you could’ve done things differently and kept him by your side.

It was hard to listen to his words and see the reflections of your past flashing in front of your eyes like a movie. While you admit that he did the timeline of your relationship justice, you do despise the fact that his words are getting to you so much.

You don’t like hearing about the things you’ve done wrong. You don’t like listening to him apologize– although he would never do so directly. You don’t like to hear him say that he misses you, because it makes it hard for you to keep your fair distance from him.

“I don’t know what I was thinking… Can you drive me home, Sunwoo? We’re clearly not on the same page about this,” you say, averting your gaze from him towards the window.

“No.”

“Sunwoo, can you please drive me–”

“Not until we talk about this, no,” he says firmly, watching you foam over with fury.

“What else is there to talk about?”

“Us!”

“There’s no us anymore, Sunwoo! And I think it’s the time you come to terms with that and stop abusing our failed relationship for your stupid songs,” you bark, throwing daggers into his skull with your fierce eyes.

“So you get to go and post angry tweets and badmouth me in front of your friends, but when I cope in a perfectly respectful manner, it’s wrong?” he argues, scoffing and shaking his head at you.

“God, you’re unbelievable. You’re comparing two vastly different things–”

“Do you not like the songs because you feel exposed, or do you not like them because I’m saying exactly what you don’t want to hear?” he asks, eyes bearing into yours with such heaviness you feel like you could cut the tension with a knife.

“Like what? That you think I regret breaking up with you?” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Why else would you pick a fight with me every time I call? Why pick it up at all?”

“Why do you call, then?” you challenge him, chewing on the bottom of your lip. The male leans closer to you, sparks dancing in his eyes when his voice resonates through the car like a low thunder, making the tips of your fingertips buzz and your heart beat faster.

“You know exactly why I call.”

“To make me angry and get me to scream at you?”

“If that means I get to talk to you,” he shrugs, a subtle grin overtaking his features, a churn of your stomach warning you of the dangerous area you just entered.

Eyes never breaking contact with his, relishing in the way his hungry gaze picks you apart, you attempt to conceal your true feelings with an annoyed comment. “This isn’t going anywhere,” you muse, “god, I never wanna see your face again.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, teasing you. “That’s what you said last time,” he says, “so what are you doing in my car then, babydoll?”

The pet name makes your stomach drop, the lightness in your head coming back to you as you furrow your brows at the male, trying hard to come up with a smart remark. Your brain turns into liquid and there’s buzzing in your ears as you try to focus on staying calm and true to your best judgment, but the moment Sunwoo’s head leans even closer to your face, his words render you both speechless and thoughtless as he mutters a sentence that’s barely louder than a whisper, yet powerful enough to pull you in.

“Stop fighting me for once, will you?”

Your lips are pushed against his with force, the kiss mirroring the essence of being starved of each other for the past month. His plush lips move against yours with the skill that only a man you’ve spent tens and hundreds of nights kissing would acquire, his hand placed on your jaw to steady you, adjusting the pace of his kisses just the way you always liked it.

A force that’s greater than yourself brings you out of your seat and into the driver’s lap, giving the male better access to your throat as you settle comfortably under your newly acquired human chair. His strong thighs flex under you when you thread your fingers through his hair, bringing him back up to connect your lips together before he breathlessly pulls away, gazing at you with a boyish grin on his face.

“Why did we even break up again?” he jokes.

You reply to him with the same lightness of your tone, shrugging. “Because you were a jealous, possessive prick and I had a short temper that always egged you on?” you say, watching as the male pretends to ponder on the information, humming to himself.

“I think I can put that past me.”

“Can you?” you joke, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb, a sly smirk playing with your lips as you lean over him and press a firm, yet short peck to his swollen lips. “Or will you make another mediocre song about it?”

“Don’t call them mediocre,” he squints at you, eyes tracing your face when your hands slip further down his face to cradle his jaw, thumbs padding his lips.

“I easily outdid you on your own song, Kim Sunwoo.”

“That’s why I add you in, actually.”

“Really?” you snicker, tone full of fake disbelief. His hands hold your sides when you lean over the man and latch yourself to his neck, dragging out kisses up and down his warm skin. “Will you make a song for each of our arguments, then?”

Teeth scraping the skin of his throat, you find the male humming under you in pleasure and satisfaction. He has you right where he wanted you– and although this is not how you imagined the night to go, you don’t find yourself disappointed with the turn of events. The previous annoyance is still there, but now is shielded by the need in you, the longing for him you can’t really battle whenever he is around.

Settling deeper against his body, you feel the male slip one hand into your hair, tugging at the roots of your hair gently to bring your face back to his, averting your attention away from the love bites you’ve been placing on his skin.

“Unless you give me another topic to write about,” he suggests, his hungry lips swallowing your reply.

You and Sunwoo were never really good for each other. Too messy, too turbulent, but too consumed with the other to ever truly let go. Seeing him tonight surely wasn’t the best of your ideas– but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t silently hope the evening would turn out this way.

You and Sunwoo were never the ones to make good decisions when it came to the other one anyway. What’s one another badly calculated step in your relationship gonna do?

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theragethatisdesire · 1 year ago

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much ado about nothing chapter 7 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

okay so i guess the responses i got on my "i have writer's block wahhh" post worked because GUESS WHAT I FINISHED THIS MORNING. this chapter!!! i have been aching to share this (even when it was half-done), i literally cannot wait any longer. this is an eren pov chapter so you guys already know it's going to be fun. lots going on, and please don't hate me for the end, i promise there's a master plan in place!!! i hope you guys enjoy :-)

specific cws: smut, rough sex, use of names (both endearing and derogatory so take that as you will), drinking, swearing, i want to give eren a giant hug

“Love sought is good; but given unsought, is better.” - Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

Eren has no excuse for any of it. No excuse for stepping in, for throwing Floch against the bar. He knows you, knows you have enough experience with awful men to know how to handle yourself. He just couldn’t help himself.

And now he’s gone and acted out again without thinking. The cold winter air sobers him up, brings Eren back to himself, and when he looks down at you, all cute and furious with him, the heat in Eren’s veins dies. A pregnant pause stretches between you both, you with your arms crossed and glaring up at him, and Eren, surely with hearts in his eyes, looking down at you, something apologetic beginning to write its way into his features.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Well, so much for that. The venom in your voice reignites Eren’s temper, fans the flames back into a full-blown inferno.

“My problem?” Eren growls, stepping closer to you. “What the fuck is your problem? I was just getting that prick out of your face. I’d think I deserve a thank you more than anything.”

“It wasn’t your place,” you huff.

“My place?” Eren nearly shouts, exasperated. “You’re the one who wanted to be friends so badly, was I supposed to just sit back and watch while he drooled all over you? Give me a fucking break.”

“That’s not– ugh, you’re really fucking frustrating, you know that Eren?”

It’s like watching all the ghosts of his past jump out at him through your teeth; Eren flinches, feels his fury rushing in his ears like a tidal wave.

“I’m–? Fine, fine, yeah, I’m the frustrating one. Definitely not you, throwing a goddamn temper tantrum over the stupidest shit imaginable, makes perfect sense. Really putting that smart little head to use, aren’t you?”

“Oh? ‘My girl’?” As soon as the words hit him, plunging through his chest like daggers, Eren’s blood runs cold. So you had caught his little slip-up. “What the fuck was that, then?”

Eren stutters, words caught in his throat at the worst possible moment. “Y-you know, like my girl, like you’re my friend or whatever.”

“Uh-huh,” you eye him disbelievingly, “you may as well have hiked your leg up and pissed on me in front of him. Am I supposed to be your fucking property or something because we had sex? Is that it?”

“What? No, I–” you’re faster than him, cutting him off.

“Don’t you already have your hands full with your ex?”

That crosses a line, pushes your fight into an entirely new territory. Eren’s eyes narrow. “Are you really bringing up Breeze right now? Like she…Jesus, like she even fucking matters?”

He watches the way you flinch when he says her name, the way your eyes widen, something he hadn’t expected out of you after with your little snide comments today. Interesting.

“She doesn’t matter to me, but I know she matters to you. As your friend, I’m just letting you know it sounds like a bad idea.”

“What’s a bad idea?”

“Getting back together with her,” you say, like it should be obvious.

It hits Eren like a truck; so that’s what’s gotten into you? You think he’s getting back together with Breeze, as if you didn’t text your ex that you were “totally in love with” on that godforsaken night at Paradise? Eren can still hear the slur of your words in that maddeningly confusing voicemail.

“Even if I was getting back with Breeze,” Eren snorts at the very idea, “which I’m not–”

“Oh yeah?” you counter, stepping forward to nearly touch your chin to his chest with how severely your head’s tilted up at him, “never took you for a liar, Eren.”

“A liar? When did I fucking–”

“Sasha saw you two at 104 the other day. You’re not fucking slick, you know.” Eren hates that tone in your voice, smug and wounded all at once. He wants to tear his own hair out.

“Oh, so you just know everything, don’t you?” Eren’s voice is shaking under his efforts to keep it at a low volume, keep you with him outside of your little bar and just make you listen to him. He watches your posture change ever so slightly, a shoulder turning towards him. “I was telling her to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Over coffee?” Your voice is still clipped, snarky. “Sure, Eren.”

Eren tries to keep himself in line, but his temper gets the better of him yet again, shooting out sharp and lethal. “Isn’t it a little hypocritical of you to avoid me over that, when it’s really you that’s getting back with your ex?”

Your eyes shoot open, and you spin on your heel to fully face him. “What?”

“You think I didn’t listen to your little voicemail?” Eren seethes, the full-bodied ugliness of his anger warping his face into a scowl. You don’t deserve the brunt of his temper, he knows you don’t, but he’s failing at every turn to reign himself in.

“You can’t throw that in my fucking face, I don’t even remember it,” you cut him off, eyes narrowed into little slits.

Eren freezes in place. The world around him seems to slow; the only thing tethering him to this plane is the way you’re looking up at him, furious and beautiful in the buzzing neons of Scout’s. He knew you’d been drunk, but not that drunk.

Hey, Eren– fuck, Stor, leave me alone! I’m just gonna talk to him really fast! Sorry, Historia’s all over me because I did something bad. I– I texted my ex, Luke. I never told you about him because he’s like, the worst, you’d hate him. But the funny thing is, I don’t even think I care? Maybe I do because I really was like, totally in love with him. Maybe he’ll text me back and we’ll fall in love again. But…I don’t know, Eren. I think about you all the time. I think I…I think I like you. Not like a friend, more than that. Wait, fuck, can I delete this? Just…I don’t know. Call me tomorrow or something. I want to talk about it before I can go down the black hole of Luke all over again. I know it’s not what you expected, and maybe you don’t feel the same, but…maybe we can just– shit, Historia, don’t hang up the–!

“Whatever I said was bullshit, I didn’t mean a word of it. I’m not getting back with my ex, or whatever else I came up with while I was blacked out.”

Your present-tense voice, affirmative and clear, snaps him out of his daze. I didn’t mean it. Every word of that voicemail that Eren knows so well, has basically memorized after listening to it day in and day out, trying to analyze every little drunken intonation of your voice– it was bullshit. Eren steels his jaw, musters up all the willpower he can dredge up in his body.

“You didn’t mean it,” his voice sounds alien as it leaves his mouth, distant.

“Yeah, exactly,” you’re mean, you’re so mean, not even stopping to acknowledge the sinkhole ripping open in Eren’s chest, “so before you rip me a new one, make sure that you’re not thinking about where you’d rather be right now.”

So you’re not just mean, you’re oblivious, it seems. For some reason, even through the shattering, crushing feeling erupting beneath Eren’s hoodie, it infuriates him. You just don’t see it, don’t see him. You didn’t mean a word you’d said to him in that damned voicemail, so he can’t tell you necessarily. It crosses his mind that maybe he can show you; the last dying ember of Eren’s rational line of thought sparks and spits at the idea in protest, but eventually chokes out, slowly dying in the tidal wave of emotion that takes him over.

“Oh, I don’t have anywhere else I’d rather be,” Eren's voice starts low and venomous, but it escalates with each passing word, “trust me, I showed up just aching to get into it with you. Just dying to have you rip me apart for something that I didn’t even fucking do!”

Not even a lie, honestly.

“You’re such an– ugh!” You shriek, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“A what? Say it.”

“An asshole!”

“Is that what I am?” Eren’s backing you up against the bricks, making good use of his height to tower over you. Some sick part of him relishes in the way that, while your eyes remain blazing furiously enough to send a weaker man to his knees, your height difference forces you to cower under him. “An asshole?”

“Yeah,” you counter, glaring up at him defiantly, “you’re a fucking asshole, Eren.”

His proximity to you is making him dizzy and a little unhinged, and through the drinks and his anger and the mere inches between your heaving chests, Eren feels his blood start to run hot in an entirely different way. The leash he holds on his own temper, his own throat-closing desire, is dragging along the floor as he backs you fully against the wall, and Eren’s too wound up to bring himself to care.

“That’s not what you were calling me when I had my head between your legs, now is it?”

That shakes you, makes your jaw drop a little. Eren’s vaguely aware of your fingers twitching and clenching at your side, inwardly braces himself for a slap to the face. “Well, you weren’t acting like an asshole then.”

Eren smirks, leans into his own cruelty. “What, you jealous that you haven’t been getting all of my attention? Is that what’s got you acting all mean?”

“Cut it out, Eren.” Your eyes are telling him you’re still mad at him, furious even, but Eren doesn’t miss the way the rise and fall of your chest grows ever so slightly more frantic, the way your tongue darts out anxiously to wet your lips.

“Or what?” Eren leans down, boxing you in with one arm on either side of your head.

“I– we’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He widens his eyes innocently. “What am I doing?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hiss, but if you ask Eren, it sounds an awful lot like a moan is lodged in your throat, like your words are lacking the conviction that you’re trying to muster. He pushes himself in closer to you, noses mere inches apart, a wicked grin splitting his face.

“Is it working?”

Eren’s lips meet yours at the same moment that his hand whips out to catch your arm where you’re swinging it up to slap him. A broken little whimper leaves your mouth, spills into his, as your arm slackens in his grip. Eren feels your free hand fist into the hair at the nape of his neck, lets a groan fly out into nonexistent space between your lips. He’s been driving himself crazy thinking about this moment, the next time he’d get to feel your mouth on his again if it ever even happened, what you taste like, the little noises you make. The moment that’s been keeping him up at night is finally here, inflating his wounded ego like a balloon, and it feels fucking good.

You bite a little too hard into his bottom lip, the tangy, copper taste of Eren’s blood leaking into the kiss, making it clear that this doesn’t mean everything has settled between you both, but for the time being, Eren doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way your plush thighs feel wrapped around his waist, how easily he can scoop you up and pin you against the wall, the little moan that slips from your lips when he presses the length of his body entirely into you.

He doesn’t take his time, doesn’t savor the moment like he’ll surely wish he did tomorrow; Eren devours you, running a hand up your bare leg and under the hem of your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing at your hips.

“Bet you’re wet under this short little skirt, aren’t you?” Eren huffs into your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

“Fuck you,” you spit, squeezing your thighs tighter around his hips.

“Is that what you want?” Eren whispers, dizzy and drunker on you than the three Jameson shots he’d knocked back at the bar.

“I–”

“Been thinking about it?” Eren can’t stop himself, trying desperately to keep his lips on yours through the spill of words from his mouth. “Maybe that’s why you’ve been so mean to me, grinding all up on me in that club, teasing me, then running off. Just wanted a little love, didn’t you?”

“That depends,” you pant, moving your face to kiss up his neck, leave little nips in your wake. Eren groans deep in his chest, pushing against you even more insistently.

“On?”

“How bad you really want it,” you bite into his earlobe, steal another shaky groan from him.

Eren’s not a submissive guy, not by any means, but the thrill your words send running through his veins just about makes him drop you.

“Want me to beg?” Eren growls, shoving into you and biting deep at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I’d only ever beg for you, baby.”

“Is that what you’re going to do? Beg for me when you’ve got another girl waiting for you?” Your anger has fizzled into a bitter sarcasm that goes straight between Eren’s legs and knocks him right in the ego all at once, tongue tracing the shell of his ear.

“Fuck– you’re my girl, my favorite girl, did you forget?” Eren grabs your face, forces your head back against the brick so you can look at him, eyes blown wide with lust and glossed over, mouth open in a desperate pant. “Told you the first time, you’re the best I’ve ever had. Didn’t think I was just fucking around, did you? It’s just you, only you.”

“Could have fooled me,” you dig your teeth into the thumb Eren’s worked between your lips, making him suck in a sharp ouch between his lips, “sure don’t feel like your favorite girl.”

“Sounds like I need to fix that, then,” Eren lets a hand trail down between the little space he’s leaned back to create between your bodies, finds his way to the damp fabric of your panties, “oh, who’s the liar now?”

“Don’t– fuck,” your eyes roll back in your head when he starts pressing into where he knows your clit is, rubbing insistent circles over the cloth just to elicit that reaction from you, rip the control right out of your pretty little hands. Eren chuckles down at you, dark and dangerous, amused at how quickly you melt for him.

“Thought we weren’t doing this?” He parrots your words from earlier, nosing at your neck. “Thought I was an asshole?”

“You are,” you grit out through a clenched jaw, but Eren notices the little forward push of your hips, notices that you’re trying to hold yourself back from rubbing yourself into his palm.

“And that gets you wet,” Eren counters, grinding the heel of his palm up into your clit and wrenching a little gasp from you, “bet you liked watching me in there, bet you would have loved watching me kick his ass for you.”

Eren pauses, waits to hear if you’ve got anything to say for yourself, but you’re already half-gone, rolling your hips against the steady rocking of his hand and whining in your throat. He smiles– god, you really are his favorite.

“Say it,” Eren growls into your skin, slipping a finger past the fabric of your panties to slide it into you, not the whole thing, but just a knuckle, just enough to make you shudder in his arms, “tell me you need me, want to hear you say what this perfect pussy’s already telling me. C’mon baby.”

Just as your mouth opens, either to answer him or snark at him, Eren can’t be sure, a cat-call from across the street snaps both of you out of your haze, your eyes flying wide. You shove at him, wriggling in his arms until Eren mercifully drops you to your feet, reaches down to right your rumpled little skirt for you. You glower up at him, look him up and down, and just when Eren’s about to bullshit some excuse to run home, fuck into his hand with your name on his lips, you surprise him.

“I mean, after all that, the least you can do is walk me home.”

The necessary steps of Eren closing your tabs, walking into the whipping winter wind, walking through the streets silently with Eren side-eyeing you as you storm along, arms crossed petulantly, commence. They go by in a blur; Eren’s not even sure he should be doing this right now with the lack of blood flow to his head. You don’t make eye contact, and if Eren had any more conscious thought at the moment, he would think you’re already regretting this before it happens, but he can’t bring himself to care, not yet.

He’ll kick himself for this as soon as the sun rises, but for now? The only thing he’s worried about lies wet and pulsing for him under the hem of your skirt.

The moment you’ve gotten the door open, Eren’s got you shoved up against the wall again, letting his hands find their way under your skirt and grabbing at your ass with a quiet groan.

“Historia?” he questions, nipping at your earlobe just because he can.

“Ymir’s,” you pant, pushing him off of you and practically storming to your bedroom. It hits Eren that for all the time you’ve spent together, he’s never actually seen your bedroom. He thinks that maybe he’ll do a little investigating of his own once he’s fucked all the fight out of you.

Safely behind the door of your bedroom, Eren wastes no time in yanking his shirt over his head, reaching for yours only to find that you’ve already rid yourself of the cute little sweater he had been admiring from down the bar back at Scout’s. You’ve got a pretty lace number underneath, one that Eren almost doesn’t want to take from you, but he reaches behind you and unclips it. Eren plans on taking and taking and taking everything you’ll give him, just for tonight, because the sinking feeling in his chest is telling him to do it while he can; a girl like you never sticks around a guy like him for long, and he’s already done himself the favor of ruining most of the potential your relationship had anyway.

“Eren– oh,” the broken whimper that leaves your lips snaps him out of his thoughts, reminds him that he’s got one of your breasts in his palm and the other nipple between his teeth. Eren wraps his free hand around your back, pressing his splayed fingers between your shoulder blades to arch you closer to him until he’s so full of you he can hardly breathe.

He’s going to keep taking from you, take until he drowns in it.

“Feel good? Missed me?” Eren’s words come out a little garbled around the flesh in his mouth, but you get the message all the same, managing a sarcastic eye roll through your arousal. You decline to answer him, but Eren can read your body, so he digs his teeth in harshly to the little swell of fat on the underside of your breast, sucks a bruise in to cut that eye roll of yours right in half. Eren smirks when your eyes flutter closed, a reluctant hand coming up to thread through his hair. “Thought so.”

“Can you just–fuck–get on with it?”

“Uh-uh,” Eren straightens back to his full height, backs you onto the bed until your knees catch and you fall onto your back, glaring up at him defiantly. “Gotta get you ready for me, right? I’m sure you remember.”

He eats up the doubt that flickers across your face, the memory of the first time you’d taken him all over your expression. Eren reaches beneath your skirt, pulls your panties down your legs delicately, rubs his hands along your thigh-high stockings with an appreciative swear under his breath.

“There’s a zipper on the back,” you wiggle a bit to try and reach the fasten of your skirt, but Eren slaps a firm hand onto your hip, pins you back onto the bed.

“Think I’m letting you take this off? After you were teasing me with it all night?” Eren says, stretching his body over yours, taking full advantage of his size to cage you in.

“I wasn’t teasing,” you huff, “these are just my clothes.”

“Anything you wear is teasing,” Eren brings his fingers to your core, swipes through the wetness gathered there, “especially when you look like this.”

You open your mouth to retort, but your jaw goes slack when Eren rolls over your clit softly, rubbing little circles into it at the perfect speed, the perfect pressure. He’s not interested in teasing you too much, he wants to feel you break on him as many times as you’ll grant him the pleasure. Once your little gasps have begun to swell into quiet moans, Eren ventures down, pushes his middle finger into you, all the way to the hitch. Eren answers your widened eyes and your little gasp with a sharp hiss between his teeth, marveling at the way your walls cling to his finger, sucking him in when he slides out and back in again.

“Just like the first time,” Eren murmurs, leaning down to take your collarbone between his teeth, “are you always this tight?”

“I– I don’t– more, please.”

Eren smiles around the mouthful of your skin he has, feeling his heart swell at how cute and airy your words come out, how clear it is to him, even if it’s only for this precious moment, that you’re just as desperate for him as he is for you. He grants your wish, working a second finger in beside the first, curling them cruelly against that spot in your walls that he knows gets your heart racing.

“Eren,” you keen, arching off the bed and tossing your head to the side.

“So tight baby,” Eren says in awe, pulling his head to watch as your cunt leaves little white streaks on his fingers, “so warm, can’t fucking wait to get my cock in you.”

“P-please,” you sputter, hooded eyes sparkling at the mention of it. Eren thinks wildly that he might be falling in love with the little unshed tears that prick your eyes when you start to get close, the little broken pleas you give him.

“You gotta cum for me first.” Eren works his fingers faster, can feel the fluttering of your cunt around his fingers. He realizes how worked up he must have gotten you outside of Scout’s, how you’re so wet it’s dripping down your soft skin onto the sheets, and you haven’t even cum yet.

“I’m– I just want you to fuck me,” you say, whiny and pitiful.

“I will,” Eren coos, “missed this messy little cunt so much, I promise I’ll fuck you, just give me one first. Gotta make it fit, right?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, hips bucking up towards him. Eren watches, drinks the sight of you in: skirt pulled up around your waist, legs spread wide open for him, slick spread all over the inside of your thighs, bottom lip tucked so tightly between your teeth he worries you might draw blood. He commits the sight to memory, his pretty little student all strung out and begging for his cock, begging him to make you cum. If he remembers right, if he curls his fingers just a little more harshly–

“Eren–” your head shoots up suddenly, eyes flying wide open, fists tightening in the sheets.

“Right there?” Eren grins, sharp and half-crazed, raising his eyebrows at the reaction the new angle has brought out of you.

“Right– oh, oh my god, I–”

“Give it to me,” Eren urges, working his fingers even faster, “come on, baby, show me how much you missed me.”

With a cry, you twist and thrash under him, cumming almost violently. Eren drinks it down, leans down to press a kiss against your open mouth, pins your body to the bed so you can’t run from the vicious waves of pleasure wracking your body.

“There’s my girl,” he mutters, licking against your tongue, “such a good, good girl for me.”

When your orgasm finally starts to ebb, Eren doesn’t let up, not entirely; he keeps his fingers working in a slow drag through your walls, appreciating the way your muscles twitch and the way you feebly shove at his wrist.

“Eren…” you trail off weakly, fingers finally locking harshly around his hand and pulling him from you, “too much.”

“Thought you wanted me to ‘get on with it’?” Eren snorts, finally obliging your earlier request and sliding your skirt over your legs, tracing his fingers up and down your thighs once you’re fully bare and beautiful underneath him, taking mental snapshots of every inch of smooth skin that he’s lucky enough to have under his touch.

“I do,” you say, eyeing him with a glint of annoyance in your eye. It just makes Eren smile bigger; you’re so cute when you’re mad.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eren says, situating his hands under your arms and practically throwing you up against the pillows at the head of your bed. You widen your legs so he can crawl in between them, kissing his way up your torso in a self-indulgent, tender way.

“Do we, um…” you start to question him, and Eren’s close enough to your face now that he can feel your cheeks warm. He sits up a little, arches a questioning brow down at you.

“What?”

“Do we need to use a condom?”

Eren frowns, confused. “I mean, after last time, I thought you were on birth control.”

“I am,” you confirm, nodding slowly, some odd emotion flickering over your features that could be anger, could be heartbreak, “but I don’t know if, like–”

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” Eren catches your meaning, feeling his heart thud heavy and loud in his chest, “not since…”

“Oh,” you exhale quietly, nodding, “okay.”

“You?”

“Uh, no,” your voice is so low Eren almost doesn’t hear you, but he watches your head slowly lull side to side in confirmation, “no one else.”

Eren can’t excuse the rush of relief that courses through him, the swell of happiness to learn that no one’s gotten to see you like this since the last time he had. It goes straight to his cock, hard and drooling between his legs. Before he can get too wrapped up in the emotional side of things, Eren leans in hard to the horrible, possessive thoughts that have constricted him, laying himself over you and taking his cock in his hand, swiping it through the mess between your legs.

“Good.” He even surprises himself with that, looking down on you with dark eyes, eyes that promise ruin.

“Please,” you give him one more breathless plea, Eren swears you know too well how to snap his composure clean in half.

He pushes himself in, choking on a moan at how tight you are, vicelike and suffocating around him. A broken groan flies from your lips, your fingers tighten their grip on his biceps until Eren’s sure you’re going to break the skin, but he’s beyond caring. His mind wipes completely blank, save for the hot, wet heat that’s enveloping him, beckoning him to snap his hips forward viciously and be done with it. With what little self-restraint he can muster up, Eren flicks his eyes up to yours.

“So…it’s so–” another whimper cuts you off, and Eren can feel your thighs twitch on either side of his hips.

“Too much?” Eren manages to reign himself in, back out another inch or so.

“No,” you wrap a leg around his waist, shove him further into you and wrench a deep, guttural groan from his chest, “feels good, keep going.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Eren breathes, trying to retain any semblance of control over this situation, give you that dominant dirty talk that he knows gets you off instead of turning into a whimpering, moaning mess at the feel of you clenching around him. He bottoms out, feeling himself fuck all the way up into your tummy, head falling down onto your shoulder.

Eren manages to keep his pace slow and gentle, rolling his hips into yours like he’s making love to you, not saying goodbye. Little satisfied sounds are slipping out of your mouth, but Eren can see a flicker of consciousness in your eyes; you’re not drooling for him, out of your mind with want, not like the first time. He frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re…I don’t know, you seem like you’re somewhere else,” Eren hates having to admit that he notices, that he even cares, and the unsteady creak of his voice reflects that, just making him hate himself even more. You don’t seem to notice his vulnerability or, if you do, you aren’t affected by it. You simply raise an eyebrow at him.

“I mean…it’s good,” you say, eyes flitting around the room, like you can’t quite admit whatever you’re going to say while looking him straight in the eyes, “but I want you to fuck me.”

“I am fucking you.” Eren’s frown deepens into a scowl of annoyance. What, is he not good enough for you now?

“Well, literally speaking yes, you are fucking me. But,” a nervous giggle slips from your teeth, riling the anger starting to bubble under his skin again, “I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you.”

“Why are we talking about this while I am literally inside of you?”

“Because I want you to fuck me,” you raise your eyebrows meaningfully, canting your hips up towards him. It clicks– as much as Eren wants to show you what he feels because he can’t tell you, fucking you like an animal, as he’s prone to do, is what you want. Eren’s been so wrapped up in trying to relish whatever time he may have left with you before you inevitably cast him off to the side again, he’s not been paying attention.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” Eren thrusts forward a little harsher, a little more pointedly. Your eyes roll back, a slow, indulgent smile spreading across your face.

“I want you to fuck me like I know you can,” Eren feels your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his ear to your lips, “unless that last time was all luck. Surely all those rumors aren’t false, are they?”

Eren knows you’re trying to get under his skin, to bite at him through the haze of the heavy air weighing down on both of you, to rekindle that anger that you had brought out of him outside of the bar. What is he going to do with you, incorrigible little thing that you are? If Eren Jaeger was a better man, he would stop this all right now, force you both to talk through the sharp, spiky things that hang in the balance between you two.

But Eren Jaeger is not a better man, he’s only a man, broken and needy and tucked into his favorite place on earth, with the girl of his dreams below him urging him to fuck her brains out. Is he really to blame?

Eren rips himself out of your grasp, standing tall and menacing on his knees over you.

“I’ll fuck you,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and shoving your knees towards your head, “but you better be ready to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Yeah? Well– oh,” a sharp, shrill cry of your own making cuts your voice off when Eren snaps his hips forward, brutal and unforgiving into the wet heat of your cunt. He doesn’t stop there, immediately pulling out and snapping forward again, hitting somewhere deep inside of you that, based on your face, he knows no man has ever been able to reach. He smirks, all cocky and cruel, setting a harsh pace that’s got you clawing at the sheets.

“What? Is it too much?” Eren whines down at you condescendingly, eating up the way you’re already whimpering and moaning. He can see tears glistening at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall.

“No, no,” your voice is broken, breathless, “it’s– fuck, it’s so good, Eren–”

“Is this what you wanted?” Eren growls down at you, locking one strong hand around your throat. “Wanted me to fuck you like the little slut you are?”

“Yes!” Your admission comes out in a choked, watery cry, the tears in your eyes finally beginning to run down your temples. Even if it wasn’t written all over your face, Eren can feel how much you like it; your pussy is fluttering, pulsing around him, begging him to keep going. He drives his hips forward like a man starved, a man whose life depends on fucking you until you can’t walk straight for a week.

“Who knew?” Eren muses to himself, wiping the tears from your face. “Who knew my pretty girl was so filthy?”

“I, I–Eren,” you moan wantonly, thighs shaking under his firm grip. Eren should hold himself back, knows that you’re going to be so sore in the morning, but a sick part of him is glad for it. Let you walk around campus with the throbbing ache of him inside of you, maybe he’ll fuck you so hard that little twinge in your belly when you sit down never goes away.

“Say it,” Eren urges, squeezing your windpipe, “tell me how much you love it, tell me how bad this pussy missed me.”

“I–” you choke out around his iron grip on your neck, “I m-missed you, I love it w-when you fuck me–”

“Fuck you like a whore?”

“Fuck me like a w-whore,” you wheeze out, face reddening with shame. Eren loves it, wants to kiss the blush off your cheeks and swallow it whole.

“That’s right, baby,” Eren releases your throat, watches the way you heave and gasp as the air flows back into your lungs, only to be punched out by the force of his thrusts, “you love my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, I– oh my god, Eren, I–”

“What?” Eren sneers, smirking wickedly down at you, “is my smart girl already so fucked out she can’t talk?”

“No, I– I just– fuck!” You’re so loud for him, if he knew that fucking you within an inch of your life would get him this, Eren never would have bothered playing nice in the first place.

“‘ve barely even started,” Eren laughs, mean and sharp, “and you’re already fucked so dumb you can’t even think. Think you can cum for me, just like this?”

He doesn’t even have to ask; he can feel the way your cunt’s starting to tighten around him so harshly that it nearly pushes him out. He’s bullying his way back into you on every thrust, forcing you to open up for him, to take what he has to give. Inwardly, Eren hopes to god you do cum soon; he’s not going to last, not with you spread out beneath him crying and wailing his name. Eren doesn’t think he can hold out much longer without filling you up, watching his cum seep out of you.

“Eren, Eren, Eren–” your nonsensical babbling has started to take the shape of his name, Eren can feel his ego swelling and swelling to the point of bursting. There’s a tone of warning in your moans; the onslaught of an orgasm is threatening to pull you under.

“Don’t you dare hold out on me,” Eren slaps your thigh hard, the tacky, wet sound of it echoing through the room, somehow finds the wherewithal to piston his hips even faster, “want to feel it, feel you cum on me.”

“I’m going to, I’m going– oh Eren–”

Eren practically snarls, leaning over to spit in your open, waiting mouth. “What are you waiting for? Don’t you–fuck–want your pretty cunt stuffed full of me? I’ll give you yours, just gotta cum for me and give me what’s fucking mine. Go on–”

Eren’s rambling is cut short by the loud, raspy sob you let out, clenching down around him so hard it almost hurts, drawing a loud, long hiss from him. He looks down past your quivering thighs, sees the frothy white that’s streaking his cock, and he’s done for. He grants you a few more sloppy thrusts, and then with one final snap of his hips, he stills, holding himself as deep inside as he can manage, pumping you full of him.

Before he can stop himself, Eren’s crashing into you, bringing your lips to his in a messy, frantic kiss, open-mouthed and teeth clacking together. He can feel your body shaking violently underneath him, rocking with wave after wave of post-orgasm bliss, but he can’t seem to break himself from you, collapsed and clutching onto your smaller frame like it’s the only thing tethering him to this earth.

“Eren,” you finally say weakly, voice muffled as you smack at his shoulder, “you’re heavy.”

“Sorry,” he grunts, rolling off of you reluctantly. Your crumpled, naked form is still there, still so tempting and soft and warm. Your eyes are shut, so you don’t see Eren’s tentative hand reach for your hip, just wanting to rub a thumb comfortingly over the bone there, before he pulls back, second-guessing himself. A few pregnant beats pass by, Eren biting his tongue and holding his breath as he waits for you to make the first move, to direct him into how to speak to you after what’s just happened.

“I need to shower,” you finally say, words coming out in a breathless admission.

“Yeah,” Eren answers lamely, sitting up and looking around your room. There’s postcards from almost every country imaginable, tacked above your desk and fluttering in the breeze from your heating system. The desk itself is a wreck, dozens of papers and books scattered around in seemingly no order. Eren notices a little stuffed teddy bear tossed onto the floor and picks it up with a smile, placing it back against your pillows.

“Are you…”

“Am I…?” Eren looks at you, hoping that his pleading gaze isn’t too horribly obvious.

“I think Historia will kill me if she sees you leaving in the morning.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Eren swears he can see something like regret fly over your face, and you turn your back to him instantly, scrounging around on the ground..

“I don’t know,” Eren wheezes through his shellshock, trying to force out a nonchalant chuckle that only sounds strangled and tense, “she’s pretty short. I don’t know how she could manage it.”

“You’d be surprised,” you slip a bathrobe over your shoulders and grant him a mirthless smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Eren dresses in the heavy silence that’s fallen over the room, pulling his shirt over his head and having to inwardly brace himself to face you. Eren’s comfortable with himself, probably knows a little too well that he’s an attractive guy, but he feels completely naked even fully clothed when he turns around to see you, standing all cozy and fucked out and sleepy in your fuzzy robe.

“So…” Eren trails off, wanting to smack his own face for speaking first.

“Have a good night, I guess,” you look up at him and then quickly away, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. Eren steels himself, lets every bit of courage he can find in his body rise to his mouth, forcing it to move.

“Are we, you know, good?”

“Good?”

“We said a lot of things to each other back there,” Eren can’t meet your gaze, can practically feel his face burning as he scratches anxiously at the back of his head. When he forces himself to look at you, there’s something odd and unreadable in your eyes. Are you sad? No, you’re smiling. Well, sort of smiling– it looks contrived, not real. But you’re not angry, not entirely.

“Yeah, I’m good if you are.” That stupid, insincere smile is still twisting your features.

Eren doesn’t like the look of dishonesty on you, but he’s fought enough for tonight. He’s sad, spent, and tired, and he figures it’s hopeless anyway.

“Okay, good,” he makes his way to your bedroom door, fingers twitching for the feel of your skin under his, eyes damn near watering, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“See ya.”

And with that, Eren’s left alone in the cold of your apartment hallway, alone and sickened by the feelings of satisfaction and longing swirling in his chest.

#eren #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #aot x reader #aot smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #much ado about nothing #much ado universe #much ado uni

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kalki-tarot · 10 months ago

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A message from your higher self 🦋

Disclaimer : this reading is just for entertainment purposes and kalki tarot is not responsible for any decisions you make in your life on behalf of this reading.

Masterlist for more such readings.

Pile 1

Cards I pulled for you : Page of swords, the tower, 9 of pentacles, 5 of swords, two of cups, the lovers ( bottom of deck : the wheel of fortune and Justice )

Your higher self is telling you to be spontaneous and relaxed. I know you might be confused because how can someone relax when a lot of things are going on and a lot of changes are taking place at once. You are going through a rebirth.

And I when i say rebirth, I mean you are shedding away the dead skin. A massive destruction. You are shedding away your past, your fears, anything which has been holding you back since a long time. You are stepping into your highest possible timeline and becoming the best you could ever imagine.

And when you ask why is this happening or taking place, the answer is because you and your twinflame or a higher level telepathic soulmate are coming into a divine union. You guys had karma attached to yourselves, a lot of karma to clear up before you meet. You know some fears, insecurities and all. It is all being released. So just relax an FLOW.

You are on the right path and you need not worry about something. Just don't be stuck in the hurtful past. Be in the present moment. Don't obsess, just cherish what you have right now.

Pile 2

Cards I pulled for you : the hanged man, 7 of cups, knight of swords, page of swords, the magician, the fool ( bottom of deck : 7 of swords )

Your higher self knows that currently you are at a standstill in life. You are stuck maybe? Or your are just at rest, taking rest. You don't know what to do in your life now at this point. You are not sure where you are headed. You have a lot of options in mind but you are not choosing one thing because you are very much unsure of how things would unfold for you.

You are asked to take risks in terms of your life. You'll know only if you take a risk. You'll move forward only if you take the first step. But you are not taking that first step. Do it. Pile 2.

Life is all adventurous and thrilling but you are making it so boring. Don't think about the past or the future. Be in the present moment and take risks.

Be like a youthful child. Be free and spontaneous. Don't block your own self. Remember that you have the power to create the kind of life you want. What are you waiting for?

You can delay things but you cannot escape it right? Don't be afraid to a take a step.

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melrodrigo · 1 year ago

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Tardy, part 8

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: An unexpected family member reveal sends you spiraling, will anyone trust you now?

Warnings: Angst that turns into fluff, mention of violence, mention of sex

Word Count 2.6k

A/N: I was dying writing this chapter (both physically and mentally) but I think the writers block is gone! Thank you for 600 followers!! As always, love u guys, and tell me what you think <33

“Mom, who’s my dad?” You asked absentmindedly, legs swinging from your living room couch.

“All the other kids at school know who their dad is, who’s mine?” You continued, blissfully unaware of the tension you had just created.

Your mom turned sharply, cigarette between her lips as she spoke.

“Oh, sweetie. Your dad’s gone. It’s just you and me now.” She said as she brought the lighter up and ignited the cigarette.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” You’d asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Your mom lets out a frustrated huff before she answers again.

“I don’t know, he’s just gone. Okay? He left town. Would you leave this topic alone now?” She sounded annoyed, and you don’t want to upset her any further, so you nodded quickly and turned your attention back to the TV screen.

“Okay, Ma.”

You flash back into another memory, this time you’re older; freshly graduated from high school, ready to move across the country to start university.

You’ve bid your farewells to friends and relatives, promising you’ll come visit every year.

Your mom’s pulling you aside looking at you weirdly. She’s getting old, you can tell by the increasing wrinkles on her face every day.

She smiles softly, and you think she looks like the sweetest grandma ever.

“Honey, I want you to know something. About your dad.”

You raise an eyebrow, mouth dropping slightly.

Your dad has always been a touchy subject for your mom, she’s never really allowed herself to tell you the full story.

Sure, as you’ve gotten older, you’ve learned bits and pieces. He was a dirtbag, leaving your mom right after she gave birth. You’d also learned that you were born in a small town called Woodsboro but had been whisked away almost immediately.

Your mom sighs now, and everything suddenly feels very heavy.

“I just tried so hard to be both parents for you, I know it wasn’t fair to keep this from you for so long. But if you’re ready to learn who your dad is, I’m ready to tell.” She says, voice cracking only the tiniest bit. You can see how strong she’s trying to be.

You suddenly see your whole childhood flash before your eyes. Your mom sending you off and picking you up every day after school. Making meals for the two of you every night, working overtime to support the family.

“No Ma. It’s okay. I already have a dad, and his name is you.” You say, pointing to her heart.

She opens her mouth but you cut in before she can say anything.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need a dad when I have you.” You say, and you mean it wholeheartedly.

Your mother swells with happiness and takes you in a big hug. Wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“Be safe, honey.” She whispers into your ear.

You splutter, staring at the page in front of you with a jumble of letters that don’t look like coherent words anymore.

No…it couldn’t be?

There’s no way your dad was Stu Fucking Macher.

It doesn’t feel like you expected it would, finding out who your real father is. Years and years of endless crying; wondering why and why and why.

Every moment has led up to this.

This light, breakable paper in your palms. It’s telling you all you’ve ever wanted to hear, and yet somehow it’s also the thing you need to hear the least.

There’s quick flashes of déjà vu as you stare at the name.

Blood; lots of it. Splattered on the ceiling, all over your body. Screams, loud and clear as day, piercing through your eardrums and starting a ringing sound.

You snap back into reality as Sam steps up to you.

You brace yourself for the worse, you wouldn’t be mad if Sam kicked you out bare into the street right then and there, hell, she could hurt you and you wouldn’t even be mad.

She raises her hand but the impact never comes. Instead, she kneels down to you and holds your shoulders tight.

“It’s okay. I know it’s hard.” She says, soft. Her lips are pulled into a frown but her eyes are sorrowful.

“It’s- it’s okay?” Tara splutters, staring between you and her sister. Flabbergasted would be a minuet way to describe her expression.

“Yes. It’s okay. Can everyone leave the room for a minute? I want to talk to YN.” Sam says, and everyone heeds her orders; shuffling down through the living room hallway.

You stare at Sam, eyebrows knit tight together. She’s hated you since you the day you met, and now she’s the one protecting you?

“Why?” You ask, curiosity seeping through your voice.

“Everyone here has been through something.” She says, biting her lip. “And believe me, if anyone knows about being framed as the bad guy, it’s me.”

She hesitates a little before she opens her mouth again.

“Let’s not pretend that everyone here doesn’t have immensely traumatic things happen to them. Me and Tara…well we know about that. But Mindy and Anika and Chad? You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard from them.” She says, twiddling with her thumbs.

“What if I’m actually the killer?” You press, gauging Sam’s reaction.

She tuts and answers sharply.

“I don’t believe for a second that you are.”

It takes you aback, her being so sure about it. You stay quiet, try to think of anything to say.

You can’t, it’s all too much information to get.

“How can you know that?” You say finally, tilting your head up to make eye contact with Sam.

She pats your back lightly. “You’re a good person YN. We can all tell.”

“We’re a family. One fucked up family, but family all the same. Including you.” She says, voice sure.

You hold eye contact for a while, a silent conversation being spoken. Setting aside all your differences, Sam was actually a really cool person. And you can tell she feels the same way.

Before you know it she’s out down the same hallway the group left in.

You’re sat on the couch, mouth open and eyes glazed.

Huh.

“YN? Mind if I come in?” Tara’s voice sounds from in front of you. You can’t decipher what the tone is.

“Yeah…yeah of course.” You answer, watching as Tara enters and stands before you.

You can’t handle her intense stare, and you drop your head immediately. Anxiety floods you, heart picking up speed.

You don’t notice her until she’s right in front of you, taking your cheeks in her hands. Stroking, softly.

10 minutes ago she was mad, and now she’s comforting you? This girl and her mixed signals.

“I believe you.” She murmurs, leaning down to press her lips on your cheek. She’s so short that even when you’re sitting down you’re almost the same height.

You don’t want to think about any of this now, you don’t want to think about it ever. You want to tell Tara this, but you can’t bring yourself to speak.

Your throat feels dry, eyes slightly teary.

“So what do we do now?” You whisper.

She continues stroking your face fondly, cradles you in her arms.

“We continue with the plan.” She says, and there’s a sense of finality in it that makes you shiver.

They’ve pushed back the date on their plan to capture Ghostface a little bit. Tara won’t admit it, but you know she’s the one who suggested it. She must think you need time to process the sudden father reveal, no doubt.

It’s sweet, but she’s wrong. In fact, right now all you need is a distraction. Something to take your mind off all the racing thoughts through your head, the sense of betrayal you feel.

Maybe I should call my mom.

“Hey. Whatcha thinking bout?” A voice sounds from behind you. It’s Anika, and you send her a soft smile; feeling weirdly glad to be in her company.

“Oh nothing much. Just about how my dad was one of the original Ghostfaces and that we’re literally running straight into danger in a few days.” You say, trying to make your voice sound light and teasing.

Anika seems to pick up on the underlying message, and you hear her sigh a little before speaking.

She rounds the couch to come sit down beside you, a pack of medical supplies in her arms. She splays it across the table and turns back to face you.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know what it’s like to have a rough family. My parents were…dipshits to say the least.” She says, casually.

Oh.

You try and think of something appropriate to say in response, but your brain seizes up and it goes blank.

“But you don’t have to feel bad for me. I have a new family now.” She continues, smiling at you; genuine crinkles at the tips of her eyes. She pats your back lightly.

“Just so you know, I don’t think you’re the killer. Who cares if your dad is Ghostface? It’s not like this is the first time it’s happened in our friend group. I trust you, really.”

It’s enough to make you teary-eyed again. You look away, hoping she can’t see them.

“Thank you.” You mumble. “That means a lot to me.”

She chuckles warmly before taking you in a hug. You guys don’t say anything the rest of the time she fixes up your wound.

“Are you blushing?” Tara asks immediately when Anika leaves the room, footsteps light.

“What? No, I’m not.” You say, running a hand through your hair.

“Did she make you blush?” She’s asking, a teasing smile on her lips.

You frown.

“She just said some very nice things to me, okay?” You huff, cross your arms like a child.

“Aw, baby. You look adorable.” She murmurs, giving you a peck on the lips.

“Are you not jealous?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She brings a finger to her lips and feigns thoughtfulness. Then she smiles wide and takes your lips in a searing kiss.

“No.” She mumbles against them. “Because I know you’re mine. And I can definitely make you do a lot more than blush.”

It’s enough to make you flush completely red. You let out a little whine at her words.

“See?” She’s asking as she leans back, a smirk on her lips. You try and wipe it off by wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for another kiss.

She’s not wrong. But you’re not going to admit that. It’s a fatal flaw, really. How easily you relent when it comes to Tara. You’d die for her, you’d kill for her, and she knows it.

“Come on,” She’s whispering. “Let’s go to my room.”

You pull back, amused.

“I don’t think I can even stand and you’re asking me to do what?” You ask pointedly.

She tugs on your shirt, obviously not in the mood to play one of your games right now.

“Then maybe I’ll just take you right here.” She whispers into your ear, laughing as you shiver beneath her.

You gulp, stare at her with big eyes. She crawls forward, leaning her elbows into your sides on instinct.

You can’t help but wince.

It seems to break Tara out of her lustful haze, because now she’s looking at you with worried eyes.

She’s getting up kind of panicky, fiddling with her hands.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I should let you sleep.” She says, sort of fast, words tumbling out of her.

You smile at her, grip her hands tight.

“It’s okay, Tara. Although, I do want to hit the hay for a while. Care to join me?” You invite, tugging her closer slightly to make sure she doesn’t leave.

She grins shyly and nods.

“Okay.” She says, biting the inside of her cheek. She’s the cutest with the excitement that radiates off her.

When you wake, Tara’s not in your arms anymore. You stir, rubbing your eyes aggressively.

“Tara?” You groan, trying to look around the weirdly dim room for any sign of your girlfriend.

You notice the candles immediately, more than a dozen of them lining the table and making a little pathway to the fireplace.

Your girlfriend appears in front of you now, wearing a little white sundress; one you’d specifically bought for her weeks ago.

She looks so good, you almost start drooling. Like an angel, the way she’s standing and staring at you, playful, excited gaze.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up.” She grins, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“What is all this?” You question, looking around the room in further inspection.

There are two plates set up quite nicely on the dining table, along with a bottle of champagne and a single flower in the middle.

It’s all so, romantic.

Tara twirls, and gives you a little show of her dress. Then she takes your hand and gently helps you up, leading you to the dining room with her.

“I never got to take you on a date. I think it’s time I return the favor.” She says, nodding along to her sentence; like a reassurance.

“You’re adorable.“ You say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She blushes a little.

“Thank you.” She mumbles.

The smell as you enter the dining room is mouth-watering. You recognize it immediately. It’s your favorite pasta, ravioli with white wine and tomatoes.

Tara’s an amazing cook, you know this already. But the flavors that explode in your mouth when you take a bite out of it are otherworldly.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever cooked.” You speak through stuffed cheeks, eyes wide and happy.

Tara picks up a piece of her own and eats it.

“I didn’t know what to make you, so I called your mom. She said this was your favorite, so I went on youtube and tried to replicate the recipe.” She says, somewhat shyly.

You beam.

“You called my mom?” You ask, teasingly. Boop her on the nose. You celebrate internally when you see her flush red.

“Yeah, it was no biggie. Just a phone call.” She disregards, biting her bottom lip to try and stop the color that’s overtaking her whole face.

She reaches forward to grab another piece of ravioli before she stops short and gasps.

“Oh! I almost forgot to give you these.” Tara says, reaching behind her chair for something. She pulls out a huge bouquet of flowers, filled with your favorites.

You don’t try and hide the surprise in your face, mouth open and gaping.

She slaps your arm lightly at your reaction.

“Hey! I can be romantic too you know.”

You nod sarcastically.

“Oh yeah no doubt no doubt.” You say, taking the bouquet from her hands in favor of bending over the table and kissing her.

“Thank you, baby.” You say against her lips. She smiles wide, scrunching her nose as she pulls back.

“You taste like pasta!” She’s giggling, pushing you back into your chair.

You finish the dinner in record time, and that’s due entirely to how good the meal was. You and Tara sit and talk for a little while before moving to the floor to watch a movie.

Tara’s annoyingly secretive about it, not letting you see whatever she’s setting up. You huff and go grab snacks from the fridge instead.

When you get back it’s to the TV covered, and there’s a small projector at the side shining light on a random bed sheet she’s hung vertically.

“Impressive speed.” You praise.

Tara’s sitting smugly, arms open and inviting you to come sit.

It’s playing 10 Things I Hate About You, one of your all-time favorite movies. You settle down into the spot next to her and sneak a glance over, but she’s already staring at you; hard.

You let out a breath of happiness and pull her closer by the waist. Kiss her on the forehead, murmur against her skin.

“Thank you for this. I needed it.”

She nods into you and pulls you impossibly closer.

“Of course.” She says.

You decide Ghostface can wait, your dad can wait. All that matters right now is Tara. Her and this movie and you.

The only three things that exist in the world.

#tardy #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream vi #mine #scream #tara carpenter x you

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