#Why is the Zipper always broken?

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: YUTA (PT. II)

A/N: Special grade lover boy finally has you, his dream girl, in his hands. Surely he’ll be able to handle it…right?

S/N: This one is for the anon(s), the Yuuta girlies. I hope this means I get to rush Yuta Phi Alpha next year!! 🤭 (you can read part I here )

C/W: Yandere themes, aged up characters (21+), Mature, 18+

Any minute now.

You should be calling, any minute now.

Yuuta rolls his favorite pair of your underwear into a cylinder.

Even. Perfect.

He tucks it next to the 14 other perfectly even cylinders he’s taken from you.

An impressive collection, considering that it’s been only 3 months since he’s been back from Morocco.

3 months since you eviscerated the barrier between fantasy and reality.

You touched him. You kissed him. His building blocks came crashing down at your feet.

And yet, you still don’t see him.

It’s been torture.

Purgatory.

Falling back into the platonic, easy insteps of friendship. Breathy giggles. Air tight hugs. Feather light kisses.

On his cheek.

Friendly gestures as thin as the air on the summit of Mount Everest.

Leaving Yuuta the same way, every time.

Desperately tugging his cock.

Filling your stolen lingerie with his seed. Marking you. Branding you as his over and over again. In the confines of his quiet, sterile apartment.

Sullied by his lewd coping mechanisms. Babbling your praises day in and day out. The paintings on his walls know you by name.

Because you’re his.

Yuuta has chosen to love you every minute between sunrise and sunset and sunrise again. Ever since his cold met your warmth.

From afar. In the dark. Meticulously crafting the blueprint of your future together. Where you love him, freely. Openly. Without input from your friends or exes.

You need him.

Why else would he be the first person you call after every date?

Agonizing about whether you said the right thing. Or wore the right thing. Leaving a long list of people Yuuta has to take care of.

Not that he minds. He loves helping you.

Beautiful, silly girl.

Can’t you see?

He’s already created a gorgeous life for you two. He’ll give you the stars. The moon. A whole galaxy if you want it.

True, mutual love.

He just has to make you see it.

See him.

“There you are.” Your ringtone is his personal call bell.

Yuuta was starting to think you were going to use your girlfriend’s shoulder to cry on instead of him.

You were supposed to be out on a third date tonight. But you’re not. When it comes to picking up the pieces after your frivolous little flings — Yuuta is always your go to.

“Hey you.”

His palm caresses the heavy bulge in his pants. Tone is steady. Unassuming.

“Yuuta?” Soft sobs intertwine with his name, and it’s decadent.

“Hey. Hey.” Yuuta’s fingers impatiently tug down his zipper. Adams Apple sliding down the column of his neck, swallowing a moan.

You sound so pretty like this.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“Can I…can I just come over?”

“Yes..of course you can.” Each word rolls off his tongue carefully. A stark contrast to the storm winds rattling his heart around its cage.

Broken, teary whines kiss his ears and glide down his spine. Yuuta pulls his cock free. Smearing pearly beads of pre cum around his swollen head. His body is so well trained for you. Primed to your voice. Your touch. Your gaze.

“You’re the best, Yuu.”

A satisfied grin blooms across Yuuta’s face. He uncurls his long fingers from around his base.

No more self indulgence. Not yet.

Tonight is about you.

“See you soon.”

—-

Is this wrong?

This is wrong.

…right?

Your fingers plait together. Shifting weight between your feet.

Staring at Yuuta’s door, knowing your dark-haired, sleepy-eyed friend is probably watching the clock. Anticipating your arrival.

Maybe you shouldn’t vent to him about other guys.

Maybe you shouldn’t use him to soothe your broken heart.

But he’s so soft with you.

Patient. With open ears, open arms. His capacity for you seems limitless.

Always peering at you with those deep set, graphite eyes. Opaque, winter fog. Quick to muddle your sense of direction if you look into them long enough.

Kind, but so, so unsettling.

Before you can reason yourself away from his apartment, Yuuta pulls open his front door.

“Hey pretty,” his mellow greeting is a warm weighted blanket around your shoulders.

“Hi Yuu,” your arms snake around his neck. Because it’s comfortable. He’s comfortable.

His toned arms sink into your lower back. As if your waist was tailored to the contour of his muscle. A low sigh breezes against your neck.

“Come in.”

Yuuta is hushed. He always is. Perpetually whispering secrets for your ears only.

You follow the gentle sorcerer into his apartment. Low lit. Shadows from the candle wicks dancing along his walls. Beckoning you into his lair.

“I made you some tea, is that okay?”

Yuuta’s lithe fingers fidget against his thighs. Almost 4 years of friendship and he still hasn’t shaken his nervous ticks around you.

Sweet boy.

“Yes please,” your smile is already less gloomy.

Yuuta mirrors you with a lopsided smile of his own. Small dimples dusting a boyish charm over his otherwise haunting features. He shuffles to the kitchen. And you take in his broad shoulders. Lean, muscular physique.

He really is handsome.

Eerily beautiful.

Effervescent porcelain skin, deepened from the Moroccan sun. Acute, angular jaw line. High cheekbones. Thick, raven hair that’s always a little storm-tossed.

A crescent moon against a clear night sky. Watching over souls trapped in their own personal graveyards.

There’s something about him that always seems…heavy.

Constantly balancing the weight of the world on his back.

Or something.

You settle in the couch just as Yuuta materializes into the living room. Stealthy, quiet footsteps. If he wasn’t the one who let you in you could be convinced that you’re alone in his apartment.

“Be careful, it’s still hot.” Yuuta warns. His eyes linger on your lips. Memorizing each pucker.

He’s so close.

Sweet steam kisses his face with each blow. And he sits there. Perfectly opposite of your mug.

Unphased. Unblinking. Still.

Close enough to take a sip of his own.

“Thank you for letting me come over on short notice, Yuu.”

Your thighs startle beneath his wintry touch. Both palms, larger than you remember, knead the fleshiest part of your hips.

“Don’t thank me. I’m here for you.” His tone descends. A deep drawl laced with conviction.

“I’ll always be here for you.” Yuuta repeats, pads of his fingers indent into your skin.

Your eyes metronome between his.

Slowly evanescing into his firm, glacial touch. Hazy from his half lidded gaze. There’s no time space continuum between you two.

“Yuuta—“

“Tell me what happened.” Shards of glass rain down his dry windpipe. Willing with every cell in his body to remain neutral.

The gates open.

You’re so animated. It’s captivating. How you feel so many things.

The way your eyes flutter while telling him about how you were stood up. A call came out of the blue. A short, unsatisfying cancellation of your dinner date.

And Yuuta leans in. Nodding. Petting your mouth-fucking-watering thighs. Forcing himself to remember to move his eyebrows. And blink. And look away from Aphrodite every so often.

He knows the story.

He wrote the story.

And for the record, gorgeous. Your crush sounds pathetic when he’s begging for mercy.

Weak.

A man like that is beneath you.

Yuuta’s jaw loses tone.

Pretty crystals line your eyes. Your bottom lip is swollen. Red like Merlot stains on a bottle cork. Your mini skirt rides up a quarter inch higher by the second. Mostly from his fingers. Every time you gesticulate he caresses just a bit higher.

White noise fills the space between Yuuta’s ears. He’s inebriated. Incapacitated by the honey that seeps from your mouth every time you speak.

And he can’t keep ignoring the way his cock is thrashing against its barrier. Begging. Pleading for reprieve.

The Apple in the Garden of Eden.

And the consequences of his inevitable bite mean nothing to him.

“Please,” Yuuta interrupts. Barely above a whisper.

Your eyebrows crawl together at the center of your barbie doll face. So oblivious. Blissfully unaware of how you fuck his brain to nothing but smooth, empty, mush.

“I’m sorry I’m rambling—“

“No. No.”

Yuuta’s body moves before his mind can catch up. He slides off the couch to his knees. Nudging his hips between your legs. His muscular arms hook beneath your legs at lightening speed.

You have no time to gather words when he pulls you to the edge of the couch.

“Yuuta?” Delicate hands fly to his shoulders. Steadying yourself in this new, sudden position.

You’re heady. Shocked. Glassy eyed. Fully flushed from your button nose to ears.

You have no idea how addicting you are. Working sticky heat out of Yuuta’s needy length without even touching him.

He presses his lips into your inner thigh. Instinctively gripping your hips forward when you reflexively jump back.

“So perfect,” Goosebumps cascade along where his moist mouth traces.

“Y-yuuta, we...we’re friends.”

Yuuta drags his drunken gaze to meet yours. Resting his head in your lap. Feathering his icy hands up your butter soft skin.

“You’re so pretty.” He murmurs. Purposefully evading your observations.

He has some observations of his own.

Yuuta doesn’t miss the way his praise affects you. How your breath hitches. And your nails dig into his shoulders. Pupils blown to a full moon.

And the slow growing damp spot at the apex of your pink cotton panties. Yuuta can’t bring himself to stare at your precious rose. Not yet. He’ll cum in his pants if he looks now.

His slender nose traces up your quivering leg. And you bloom. Thighs drifting further apart. Making space for him. Inviting him in. Rewarding him.

“I can make you feel better.”

You gift him a pitiful little whine in response. Timid fingers travel into his nape. Yuuta’s heavy eyelids curtain his vision.

The room is spinning.

And Yuuta is kneeling at the only alter he will worship at. The only alter that will ever receive his devotion.

Those years of waiting. Wanting. Watching. Unsent love letters. Saved texts. Practiced conversations in the mirror. Stolen trinkets. Pieces of you he’s kept along the way.

It was all worth it.

Because the love of his life is spread open for him. Vulnerable. Needy. Melting beneath his touch like your body knows it belongs to him.

Yuuta couldn’t hold back if he wanted to.

“D..do you know how perfect you are?” Yuuta asks the warm, sore flesh beneath his lips. Admiring the trail of bruises he’s left up your inner thigh.

“Yuu, you don’t mean that.” You mewl and squirm like a brand new kitten. Mousing his hair between your fingers.

“I mean it. Y..you’re so…” his voice trails off when his trembling, pale digits finally press into your wet heat.

“S-soft. You’re so soft.” Drool pooling in his mouth chips away at his coherence.

Yuuta’s stormy eyes find the meeting point of his hand and your sex. The sight alone bucks his diamond hard shaft off of his leg. The friction from his damp boxers and rigid jean blurs his vision.

“Oh pretty girl.”

“Mmghhhh Y-Yuu..ah god.”

Both of your husky musings collide. Yuuta drives his long two fingers into your accepting, driveling opening.

He immediately curls up into your pleasure point. Eliciting the most dreamy, listless curve to your back. Tossing your head into the pillows behind you. Gripping his roots into your hand.

“Y-yuu, I need…please.”

Whimpers wrap around Yuuta’s cock and jerks him out of his fucked out state.

He didn’t realize he was open-mouth staring at how your cunt squeezes and tugs on his fingers. Leaking your dew onto your thighs. His fingers. His couch. Saliva streams down the corner of his mouth like he’s a starved animal.

He blinks up at you. Debauched. Lusty. Filthy in the way your hips are undulating against him. Taking your pleasure right out of his hands.

“I need…I need to hear you say it baby.”

Yuuta swipes his tongue against your clothed pussy. And you nearly buck off the couch.

“Please, y-yuu,” diamonds line your eyes again. So much pleasure in the pain of being teased.

“Say it, baby.” His breath kisses your swollen clit. “T-tell me what you need.”

“Lick..please, suck…Yuu,” He’s never heard a more beautiful plea. And his restraint was already teetering on a hair string.

Yuuta’s other free hand rips your panties away from your dewy folds. And his spine is set on fire.

The dull ache in his pelvis crashes into him like he’s at the deadly meeting point of the Atlantic, Pacific and Southern oceans.

“So..so pre..god.” Nonsensical words. Unintelligible noises.

Then his tongue circles your bud and he is gifted a taste of your elixir.

Somewhere between his pathetic sobs into your pussy, your gorgeous melody filling the room and how you grind your pretty petals along the length of his tongue — Yuuta isn’t sure he’ll be able to survive this.

At some point he pulled his cock free from its restraint. Spearing high and heavy in the air. Constant needy dribbles of pre cum staining his shirt, rolling down the length of his shaft. One or two drops even escaping to the floor between his knees.

He hasn’t stroked his length once. And he is this close to release.

And it is infuriating.

Yuuta hates how closely he is riding his peak right now.

Because he is not nearly done with you yet.

He wants you on his tongue. On his cock. For hours. He needs to coax orgasm after orgasm out of his one true love.

“Y-yuuta,” your right hand pulls at his head with all your strength. Yuuta has to bite back a whine.

His murky gaze meets your darkened one.

“Inside.” A clear, high-pitched command.

And Yuuta couldn’t dream of denying you. Of saying no to you, ever.

“O-okay, yes baby.”

He stumbles to his feet. Shakily working his jeans and boxers into a pile around his feet.

Your wide eyes and oh shaped mouth stains his face cherry red.

Why are you looking at him like that?

Is he not enough?

Were your other lovers bigger?

He’ll get rid of them if—

“Yuuta…will it fit?”

You shatter his spiral to stardust. He can breathe again for the first time since you came over.

Yuuta eagerly chases you up the length of the couch. Until he’s nestled comfortably in your legs. Your heat kissing along his drenched rod. Mixing your arousal with his.

“It’ll fit, because you’re made for me”

Yuuta rasps through tight lips. Burying his head into the gentle slope of your neck.

How is everything going exactly right and completely wrong at the same time?

He is more disciplined than this.

He is supposed to be in control.

But your warm, sweet petals sheath his length.

And you begin to circle your hips underneath him. Rubbing your nectar along his cock like you are marking him as yours.

Yuuta loses his sense of reality.

Unrelenting waves of heat ram into his groin. His cock stutters and beats against your precious cunt. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. Because everything dampens.

“No…n—no no wait!”

Yuuta smears protests into your neck. Hips rutting against your opening. Pressing you deep within the cushions. Rabid, uncontrolled movements. Ascending in pace faster than you can keep up.

“Fuck, fuck..”

“Yuuta? Are you cu—“

You have your answer the moment his hips hover over yours. Cupping his thick, blushing tip.

He fails to contain his explosion. Yuuta is mortified when stark white globs contrast your black mini skirt.

Air settles thick between you.

Circulating breaths between his clipped and your shocked ones. Decades pass between you before silence is broken.

“Don’t worry, Yuu! This doesn’t change anything.” Your smile is light and playful. Kind in the way that makes him fall in love with you again.

But…what do you mean?

Of course this changes everything.

He can please you.

He knows that.

This was just…

This was just one time.

The first time.

Amidst the cyclone of thoughts decimating Yuuta's brain, you’ve managed to wiggle around him. Currently lacing up your strappy heels.

Yuuta’s mouth lolls open but words fail to materialize.

Once you’re satisfied with your appearance, you prance over to his side. Still frozen on the couch with a handful of his cum. In the messy remnants of his unwanted peak.

Your lips meet his cheek. And your next words run his blood subzero.

“We’re still friends! We’ll always be friends, Yuu.”

Yuuta’s steely eyes laser into your retreating figure with sniper precision.

Beautiful, silly girl.

You two will never be just friends.

#jjk fanfic #jjk fanart #jjk smut #yandere yuta #yuta okkotsu #jjk yuta #yuta x reader #yuta smut #okkotsu yuuta #obsessedseries #okkotsu yuuta smut #yuuta okkotsu smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #jjk yuuta #yandere #yuuta okkotsu x you #jjk x reader #yuuta smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuta x you #yuuta headcanons #yuuta x y/n #jujutsu kaisen yuuta #yuuta x reader #yuuta fluff #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jjk season 2 #jjk x y/n #geto smut

[coryosbaby]

SENSITIVE . Luke Castellan x fem! Reader

Content warning . Broken bones and submissive Luke <3

Whenever someone uses a word to describe Luke Castellan, it’s always this: strong.

He’s the greatest swordsman in camp, after all. He puffs out his chest and slathers his aura in pride, outdoing every opponent.

Except for when it comes to you.

He’s— well, Luke is a sensitive boy. No one knows that, of course, except for you.

He shows his true self, now, on a rainy night in your cabin. Many campers have gone to dinner, and Luke had decided to stay back with you, curled up in your bed.

“(Y/N),” he whines, as you finish your night routine with a drastic slowness. “It hurts.”

You almost roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s antics as you lather on a bit of moisturizer. After a long trip and fall down a flight of stairs—ironic, really, considering his stealthiness— the boy had broken his hand. A small cast is wrapped around it, little phrases that you and other peers had written into it rainbow in color.

“You’re being dramatic.”

His lips form into a pout.

“‘M not,” he replies. His unbroken hand pats the empty spot beside him. “Come here, baby. I miss you.”

You can’t help the tug in your chest at his sweet tone. You do the last steps of your routine, sighing as you move out of your vanity chair and slide onto your silky pink sheets.

“C’mere, you big baby.”

He grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you bring him into your embrace, letting him wrap his big arms around you.

“You smell nice,” he compliments, humming. “Like a pretty flower.”

You giggle. His fingers move up to play with your hair.

“And your hair is so pretty. I love it. And your eyes…”

“Are you saying this because you feel sentimental, or because you want me to make out with you?”

“Both.”

You scoff, pulling him in for a kiss. He reciprocates eagerly, and before you know it his tongue slides warm and wet into your mouth. His hand moves up to your tits, softly groping.

And when you look down, you realize why he’s so clingy. A small smirk spreads across your lips.

“I think you need a little bit of help, sweet boy.”

His cheeks, a dusty pink, turn even darker now. You take in the sight of the large bulge straining against his zipper. He lets out a nervous chuckle, though it doesn’t do much to stifle his nerves. His broken hand still stays trembling underneath your own.

“You don’t have to,” he replies, averting his gaze from you. “I’m not.. I mean.. I can’t—”

“I know.”

You don’t need to say anything else. Your palm splays out over his hardened cock, and he whines, a tiny breathless thing in the back of his throat that makes your panties soak with wetness.

“Mommy,” he utters. “I need your hands,” And then, bordering on a choked sob, “Please? I’ll be good, I swear…”

Oh, it’s so easy to get him worked up. So, so incredibly easy.

You hum, flicking the zipper of his jeans up and down playfully. His brunette locks are turned up and disheveled, and it’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

“Poor baby. It’s been a long time since you’ve touched yourself, hasn’t it ? Four, maybe five days?”

That was the last time he had fucked you, the day he had broken his hand. Your schedules were both so busy that neither of you had time to do anything since. Luke’s eyebrows press together, and a pout forms on his lips as he nods in confirmation. You press a kiss to his jaw, then another. He’s wearing the cologne you like, and a shirt you had once said looked particularly good on him. He had made his way into your room asking for this, you’re sure. He was asking to get all worked up and get you to handle it.

He just wants mommy’s attention, doesn’t he?

You pull his fly down, much to his excitement, a “thank you” falling sweetly off of his soft lips. Pushing his underwear down, his hardened cock slaps up to its fullest attention against his stomach. His balls are drawn up tight above the fabric of his briefs, full and ready to be emptied.

Oh, how worked up the poor thing is. Wet like a girl, cock dripping pre cum and the tip flushed an almost deep scarlett. He’s well endowed, much to your pleasure.

Giving his tip a teasing flick with two of your fingers, you watch as his eyes shut tight and he moans. It sounds precious, a choir full of angels singing. You wish you could hear it over and over again.

He isn’t looking at you, now, and that makes you annoyed. Your hand slaps his length and he lets out a pained yelp.

“Eyes on me. Do you understand?”

His bottom lip wobbles. A sensitive boy he is, despite his usually hard and cold demeanor, and his mommy’s disapproval makes him want to cry. He nods, his teary eyes staring deep into your own as you spit into your palm and take him into your hand.

You start by thumbing over his tip, rubbing softly into his slit. Watching his breathing increase and the way his head tilts back is absolutely enticing.

“Is that good, baby?” You ask softly. He nods eagerly, his hand shaking in his lap. He tries not to clench his broken fist together but that proves difficult, and he lets out a pained cry when he presses down on it. You coo to him, almost mocking, as you snake your arm behind his back and take the cast into your free hand.

“Don’t hurt yourself, okay? Just hold on to me,” your voice is a purr in the shell of his ear. “Need my boy big and strong again.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, his voice high pitched and whiny. “Yeah, mommy, yeah…”

Your hand wraps around the fullness of his length, twisting with a flick of your wrist. His forehead bumps against yours as his open mouth tries to land on your lips. You think he’s trying to kiss you, and it’s absolutely endearing. He can’t help but desperately shove his tongue into the warm confines of your mouth. You giggle at that, pulling him in for a sloppy, wet kiss.

When your lips leave his, it’s so you can bite and suckle pretty marks onto his neck. You lave over the reddish bites, humming as you cover his throat in them.

Other women at camp, be damned. He’s yours.

It isn’t long, with a gasping mouth and fluttering lashes, that he’s close.

“I’m gonna cum,” Luke murmurs, sugary sweet. “I’m g-gonna… momma, momma..”

He buries his face in your neck, salty tears pressing into your skin, and his cock spurts rope after rope of warm, sticky spend all over your hand. You watch with a smile, pressing a kiss into his hair as he fucks his hips up and mewls against you. Your heart flutters at the sound, your body on fire just from watching him come undone.

He sighs when you milk the last few remnants of cum from his spent cock. His curls stick to his forehead, sweat dripping down his brow. What a sight.

You find Luke’s shirt somewhere on the floor and wipe your hand on it. His nose crinkles up.

“That’s gross.”

Rolling your eyes and trying not to smile, you sit down beside him again.

“It’s your mess, Luke.”

He shrugs, his hand going up to push your hair out of your face. He gives you a pretty, lopsided smile. You kiss the scar underneath his eye, and his eyes cloud over again.

Always so sensitive.

He lays down on the bed, signaling you over. His lips find yours again, chaste but still nice, and when he’s using free hand to make you straddle his face, a gasp emits from you.

“Luke. It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

“Want to,” he murmurs, sliding your panties to the side. “You took care of me, momma. Let me take care of you.”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi

#bunny writes ͟͟͞☆ #why is this the most tame shit I’ve wrote in weeks #Luke Castellan #Luke Castellan x reader #Luke Castellan x fem! reader #Luke Castellan smut #Luke Castellan fanfic #Luke Castellan blurb #Luke Castellan Drabble #sub! Luke Castellan #dom! reader #Luke pjo #pjo #Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson fanfic #Percy Jackson series #Percy Jackson show #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the lightning thief

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 27: squirting with himeko from hsr

warnings: squirting, toy usage, fingering, clit pinching, overstimulation, praise

notes: never lET YOUUU GOOOO ITS WHY I DID THEM ALLLLL FOR A CHANCE TO AT LEAST TO LIVE IN YOUR WAYYYYYYY LOVE OF YOU—

it would be odd to see the ever so calm and collected himeko act so squeamish. face red and pink, almost to the point of matching her luscious locks, lips trembling as she struggles to even stay upright. her condition had caused the others of the express to grow concerned and to force her into resting the day as pom-pom’s said; “the express is simply cruising the star rails peacefully now. leave everything in the conductor’s hands”.

their concerns would have left himeko laughing softly or even defying their words if she could. but she was a little bit too busy with a few certain things to rebuttal their words as she nods and quietly thanks the express crew as she walks into her room where you were peacefully reading a book on one of the soft cushioned chairs as if there isn’t a certain familiar red controller on your lap. the other end of the controller that was currently buzzing away inside himeko’s pretty cunt, the low constant buzzing causing her legs to shake and thighs to rub together.

shakily managing to stumble her way over to your shared bed, the redhead nearly throws herself onto the edge of the bed due to the constant trembling of her legs. she was close again and she could feel the earlier two rounds of cum seeping out of her panties, dripping down her thighs as she no longer bothers to silence her moans. almost immediately, her elegant coat and dress comes off — halfheartedly taken off, the zipper of the dress almost broken in her fumbles — thrown to side of the bed as himeko opens her legs for you.

“[n-name]—! please, i give up already. just take this thing out and help me instead… plEASE! uhhhng mmfh—♡︎!” the always so composed woman stumbles over her words, which would have been weird to anyone else. except you. after all, you’re always the one who causes himeko to act in all sorts of new ways every night.

well, not like you were paying any attention to the words on the page ever since himeko stepped inside the room. you could just smell her arousal. makes you wonder how dan heng hasn’t suspected anything yet.

closing the book in your hands with a silent thud! you place it on the nearest flat surface. you didn’t care which page you left it on, you’ve already reread the book 3 times before already. besides, who needed to focus on some random words on a page when your beloved girlfriend was right here, spreading her legs and moaning out for your help? she didn’t even bothered to take out the vibrator herself. isn’t that just so sweet of her?

slowly, you take confident and teasing strides towards the woman on the bed. her legs spread open for you, familiar delicious juice covering her thighs, soaking her favorite black lace panties and darker color. hand desperately clinging onto the bedsheets under herself as she legs occasionally twitch and shake due to the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

“what’s a pretty thing like you doing now, himeko? and what’s that thing hanging from the side of your panties?” you hum, feigning innocence as your hand reaches out to the small thing hanging off at the side that connected to the bullet vibrator inside her delicious pussy.

in response to your innocent question, the redhead lets out a whine. legs spreading out even further as if trying to entice you to touch her. at least once! that’s all she needed!

thankfully, you seemed to have noticed her desperation. pulling off of her soaked underwear down her legs and throwing it to the side, you press two fingers down on her labia, slowly opening them to take a look at her sensitive, hardened clit and dripping cunt. ah, just this was enough to want you to devour her like a starved animal. she looked so delicious. so mouth-watering. absolutely and utterly delectable and it’s all yours to feast on.

before your thoughts could become even more self indulgent, you manage to snap yourself out of it as another loud whine from the woman resounds in the room. right, you were here for a reason. but something was telling you that himeko would enjoy what you had in mind currently more than your usual routine.

so, with determination and quickly dwindling patience, you ease the two fingers that were holding her labia open inside her. the massive amount of cum seeping from her cunt made it easy for you to slip your fingers inside her with a lewd squelch, pushing the vibrating toy inside further and making her toes curl as her back arches off of the bed.

“[n-naME]!! whaaaangh! aaahm mmnh f-fuck! what’re you doi—EEENCK!! W-WAIT… ♡︎♡︎~!” the conductor’s voice trail off into a shrill scream, jaws falling slack open as her legs shake and thrash about, not knowing if she should wrap them around your hand or keep it open. hands flying everywhere, unknowing if she should desperately cling to the sheets for stability or your hands instead to make you stop.

the constant buzzing of the vibrator was flush against a certain sensitive spot inside her gummy walls, pushed against it as it vibrates and shakes. over and over, she can see black dots surrounding her vision, thinking she came again only to realize that she hasn’t when you start fingering her with the vibrator still inside. aeons, she can’t take it. she can’t take it, she can’t take it, she can’t take it, it’s gonna break her completely!!

himeko won’t be able to take such exquisite yet borderline painful feeling anymor—!

with a loud scream of jumbled mess that seem to resemble your name, the redhead squirts over your hand when you decide to be just a bit mean and pinch her enlarged clit with your free hand. ah, such a loud woman she was whenever you two got intimate. both in mouth and cunt. good thing the walls were soundproof and you were too excited to continue to care for how much louder she could get.

“eyes on me, conductor. we’re not done seeing how much you can squirt yet♡︎”

#nobu.writes #sub hsr #sub!hsr #sub honkai star rail #sub!honkai star rail #sub himeko #sub!himeko #hsr x reader #hsr x reader smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #himeko x reader #himeko x you #himeko x y/n #himeko smut #sub character #sub!character #dom gn reader #x dom reader #dom reader #dom!reader #nobu’s kinktober 2023

[corroded-hellfire]

you ask and you shall recieve, older!eddie not only helping you relax your mind after a rough day but also, being the only one who's ever been able to put you in subspace, because the man KNOWS how to treat a woman<3 im in like desperate need for this kind of fic because i need someone to put me in subspace

The joy I got from this request. You have no idea. Older!Eddie is literally my ultimate weakness. But I tried to be as accurate as possible with subspace, even though it's different for everyone.

You can meet how Eddie and reader met here!

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), choking, spanking, subspace, soft dom!eddie, sub!reader, older!eddie, age gap (Eddie is 42, reader is 24)

Words: 3.1k

It may be true that your apartment is closer to work than Eddie’s trailer, but your car always seems to have a mind of its own when you’ve had a bad day. You’re pretty sure that your car takes over and brings you to your boyfriend’s place without you even being conscious of it. Today was no different. You’d forgotten your lunch at home, been late because of traffic, and worst of all, been passed over for the promotion you know you deserved. 

It all led you to sitting in your car outside of Eddie’s home, his truck not in its usual place in front of the trailer. He should be home any minute, but every second that ticks by grates on your nerves like a broken bow on a fiddle. 

The moment you see—or rather, hear—his truck come into the trailer park, you yank your key out of the ignition and get out of the car. The squeaky bucket of bolts careens into its usual spot, then falls silent. The blaring metal music stops, and the engine dwindles down until it’s quiet. The driver’s door opens before you hear it slamming closed.

“Hey, baby,” Eddie says as he walks around the front of the truck. He takes a drag of the cigarette he’s been smoking, then tosses it into his empty garbage can out front. “Been here long?”

“Not really,” you say, instantly attaching yourself to his side once you’re close enough. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Eddie says, ducking down to press a kiss to your head. “How was work?” 

When your only response is a sigh, Eddie frowns, the subtle wrinkles by his eyes becoming even more prevalent. He tugs you over to the front door and ushers you in once he’s unlocked it. You watch as he takes his hair tie out, shaking his mane free. The wild brown curls cascade down to his shoulders. Unable to help it, you reach up and play with the hair framing his face. It’s something that’s always calmed both of you; you playing with his hair. It can relax Eddie to sleep and have you forgetting all your troubles of the day. Wrapping a single curl around your index finger, you notice the start of some gray at his temples. It makes sense since the lack of color has been popping up more and more in his beard and stubble lately. You don’t think he believes you when you tell him how sexy it is. 

Eddie leans down, cupping your face in his hands, and presses a soft kiss to your mouth. 

“Rough day, baby?”

You nod and he instantly wraps you up in his arms. He hasn’t even changed out of his greasy coveralls yet, but you couldn’t care less as you bury your head in his chest. His large hand strokes up and down your back as he presses sweet kisses to the top of your head. When he goes to pull away, your fingers tighten over the zipper of the coveralls, silently begging him not to let go. 

“Don’t want me to make something for dinner?” he asks. You shake your head against his body. “Want me to order takeout?” You shrug. Eddie sighs and squeezes you against his body. “How about this…” Eddie pulls back just enough so he can tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Why don’t I call up to get some Chinese food delivered—I know, I know, Golden Palace is your favorite—and I’ll get changed and hold you in my lap until the food gets here.” 

“I’d like that,” you tell him. Satisfied that he came up with an agreeable arrangement, Eddie smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

He makes his way into the kitchen, balancing the phone receiver on his shoulder as he searches the fridge for the magnet with Golden Palace’s phone number on it. “Want your usual, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.” Kicking off your shoes, you nudge them over to join the tiny pile of Eddie’s near the front door. As he talks on the phone, you make your way down the hall to his bedroom. The starchy blouse and pinching skirt you’ve been wearing all day have worn out their welcome. Slipping them both off, you drop them on the chair in the corner of Eddie’s room. Spotting your favorite pair of Eddie’s sweats hanging out of a drawer, you move to go get them before freezing in place. No, you decide, you don’t want to wear them. You’re content in just your bra and panties. 

Eddie’s bed is one of your favorite places in the world. And here and now? It’s just about irresistible. Climbing on, you lay back against his pillow and take in the messy room around you. Clothes are strewn about everywhere, despite his hamper in the corner being empty. There are a few photo frames on the walls now, which makes you smile. Before you, there’d only been posters of bands and movies. Some are still there, but now there are also photo collage frames on the walls featuring the people he loves. His uncle is in a few of them, as well as his buddies from his old Hellfire days. There’s even some of you that you begged him not to hang up, but he said you looked so good in them that he wanted to look over at them whenever he wanted. But your favorites are the ones of you two together. One of them is from when you’d gone to Chicago together and got caught in a snowstorm. Another is of you standing on the corner of a dock at Lover’s Lake, where you forced Eddie to hold onto your hips and recreate the Titanic pose. He’d rolled his eyes, but who’s laughing now that he put the picture up on his wall?

Eddie steps into the bedroom and stops when he sees you only in your underwear. “Babe, you can borrow clothes. You know that.”

“Didn’t wanna,” you say, making grabby hands for him. A soft smile comes to his face as he sheds himself of his coveralls and climbs on the bed next to you. 

“What do you want?” Eddie asks. He’s pretty sure he already knows, but you both know you’ve got to ask for it. His suspicions are even further confirmed when you just look at him from beneath your eyelashes, fluttering them at him. “Tell me, princess.”

“Want you to make me feel better,” you say in a hushed voice. Not looking him in the eyes, you trail your fingers over Eddie’s thin gray t-shirt. “Want you to take care of me. Like only you can.” 

Before Eddie, you barely had any sexual experience. But with the limited amount you did have, guys could never make you feel good. They were lacking in multiple ways, actually. Not only could none of them bring you to orgasm, but they couldn’t even distract you sufficiently when all you needed was to get out of your head for a little while. Eddie had gotten you into subspace the very first time he’d tried. Never before had you trusted someone so much, felt completely safe, which only added to the hazy feeling that came over you. You’re pretty sure Eddie was made specifically for you. Funnily enough, he thought the very same thing. 

Eddie nods, laying one of his large hands on your stomach. His calloused fingers rub against your bared skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

“I can do that,” Eddie assures you. “Let’s get you more comfortable, okay babydoll?” At your nod, Eddie slips your panties from your legs and you reach behind you to unclasp your bra. Once the garments are tossed somewhere on the floor, Eddie crawls on top of you, nuzzling his nose against yours. His nose trails down to your throat, but that’s not the part of him you want there. Eddie notices the barely there whine that escapes you as he places a hard kiss against the soft skin of your neck. 

“My princess wants my hands, doesn’t she?” 

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie shrugs himself out of his t-shirt and unzips his jeans. He might as well take it all off now because he doesn’t want to have to stop for a single moment once he’s got you going. Finally shed of all articles of clothing, Eddie lays one large, tattooed hand on your hip. Ever so slowly, he moves the hand up your body. Over the softness of your tummy, over the small tattoo you’d gotten on your ribs, just below your breast, that you decided to get after admiring Eddie’s ink for so long. Finally, his hand trails over the swell of your breast, only pausing briefly to flick a thumb over your nipple, before slipping over your collar bone and halting on the one place you wanted it. The pressure Eddie applies to his hand on your throat isn’t enough to impact your breathing, but enough to feel the possessiveness in the gesture. Waiting until your eyes slip closed, Eddie tightens his hand just slightly, causing a hitch in your breathing. This is your sweet spot, he knows. Right where you start to feel your worries melt away.

“You want me to fill you up?”

“Y-Yes, sir. Want you t-to fill me up, please,” you say.

“Gonna fuck my baby girl so hard,” Eddie says as he nudges your legs apart. “Won’t be able to have a thought in her pretty little head that’s not about me and how good my cock is making her feel.” 

Resting back on his knees—but not too far back, keeping the pressure on your throat—Eddie spits into his free hand before working his saliva up and down his cock. Seeing you already relaxing, legs spread, eyes closed, and his hand on your throat? Eddie didn’t need to pump himself very many times before he was clamoring to be inside of you. Running his fingers through your folds, grinning in satisfaction at how wet you already are, he mixes your slick with the saliva on his cock. He lines himself up with your entrance, eyes focused on your face as he pushes in. Your brows pull together, just a little, and a low breathy moan escapes your lips. Eddie leans over you, bracing himself on the forearm of the arm that’s not holding you around the throat. 

“How’s that, baby?”

“More.”

“More, what?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows.

“More, please, sir.”

“That’s my good girl.”

A groan tumbles out of Eddie as he bottoms out. He thrusts his hips, sliding himself in and out of you, picking up the pace just a hair each time. The pressure on your throat increases as his hips snap against yours.

“Wanna tell me what happened at work? What’s got you so upset?” he asks as he keeps a steady pace.

Keeping your eyes closed, a sigh escapes your lips. “Out of all the p-people who started working there around the same time I did, I-I’m the one who’s most qualified for—.”

“Ah,” Eddie cuts you off with a tut. “That was a test to see if I fucked the stress out of you yet. And I failed.” At that, he begins pounding into you even harder, the headboard against the wall sounding like a jackhammer. Whimpers start to fall from your lips, and when you open your eyes, a few tears slide down the sides of your face. Eddie pulls out of you, releasing his hand from your throat and you groan at the loss of both sensations. “Come on up, baby. I want you on your hands and knees.” 

Letting out a small whine, you turn your head to bury it in his pillow. “M’comfy, sir.”

“Up, princess,” he orders. 

He slips his hand underneath you and pulls up. Complying, you move slowly, letting Eddie know that you're headed in the right direction. Once he’s satisfied that you’re in the position he wants, —and has admired the view—Eddie pushes his cock back inside of you. He gives it a few thrusts before his one hand grabs your hip hard enough to bruise and the other gives a harsh smack against the soft plush skin of your ass. 

“That’s one, baby,” Eddie says. “Want you to count them for me, okay?” When your only response is a nod, Eddie gives your ass another smack. “Okay?”

“Y-Yes,” you whine. “That was two, sir.” 

“Good girl,” Eddie says as his hand rubs over the area he just struck. With no warning, he pulls his hand back and gives another stinging slap.

“Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Uh…”

“Come on babydoll, what number are up to now?” Eddie asks. 

“I don’t remember, sir,” you admit with a whimper.

That’s the answer Eddie wanted, though. Your brain was slowly turning to mush, which meant he was doing his job. It almost meant that he needed to get you on your back again, since he knows that’s where you get the most enjoyment out of subspace. 

After one more smack to your ass, Eddie reaches forward and wraps his thick fingers around the front of your neck. He guides you up until your back is pressed flush up against his chest. 

“How’s my princess feeling?” he asks as he slips out of you. The sensation causes a whine, bringing a soft smile to Eddie’s lips. “Shh, just changing positions, sweetheart.” He carefully maneuvers you until you’re lying on your back again. Before you get fully down though, he slips a pillow under your hips. One, it’ll support your ass, being sore from the spanking. And two, this angle always allows Eddie to hit your sweet spot. 

Hands holding onto your hips, Eddie slides himself back inside of you, causing your face to scrunch up in the most adorable way. He lowers himself to hover over you, his dark curls curtaining his face above yours, like the two of you are locked together in this private moment. Your eyes blink open, sleepily, as he starts pounding into you again. Eddie’s wish was coming true; there was nothing in your head besides him. Heavy eyelids drooping, your gaze shifts down to his scruff, making Eddie let out a breathy chuckle.

“Looking at the gray again, baby? I don’t get what you find so sexy about it. Like the fact that I’m old, huh? That I know what I’m doing and know how to take care of this tight little pussy of yours? None of those boys your age know how to handle a woman like you, do they? No. You need me. I know what you need, baby girl. I know what makes you feel so good.”

Eyes becoming too tired to hold open, you let them close again. Your mouth opens slightly, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to run his thumb along your bottom lip. 

“Such a pretty girl.” Your eyes open again, the fucked out expression a sign of victory for Eddie. “Aww, look at you. Got my smart girl all nice and dumb, huh? My cock that good, princess?” 

Whines begin to fall from your lips, your brows tighten up. Eddie can read your body better than he can read The Hobbit, so he knows you’re very close. It’s a good thing too, because so is he. Whenever he sees you this blissed out, it hurtles him towards his own release. 

Supporting his body with one arm, Eddie reaches down and rubs tight circles over your clit. “How’s that, babydoll? Does that feel good for my baby?”

There’s an imperceptible nod of your head, but Eddie sees it. Feels the way your walls are starting to clench around his throbbing cock. 

“Let go, sweetheart. Let me make you feel so good.”

Your body is limp, the only movement is the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and your hips as they move against Eddie of their own accord. The moment your body tips over the edge and into your orgasm, Eddie feels his. Feels the way you soak and clench his cock. It has his hips stuttering, letting out a string of moans and curses as he releases inside of you. 

“Fuck, princess,” Eddie says as his body comes down from his high. He looks down at you, eyes open but glossy and relaxed. Mouth curled into a lazy smile as you look back up at him. You’re spent and so is he. 

Taking a deep breath to try and get his breathing back to normal, Eddie pulls out and flops down beside you. He knows sometimes it can take you a little while to come back to him when you’re in this state. But he also knows that holding you while you’re in this haze is your favorite part. Maneuvering the blanket on the bed—which he now needs to wash—he tucks it up to both of your waists. Slowly and gently, Eddie manages to get you to turn over and holds you in his arms. Your face nuzzles into his neck, your sweat and his blending together. 

“You did so good for me, baby girl. You’re always so good for me. I’m one lucky old man.”

The soft giggle against his skin lets him know that you’re still there with him. He rests his head against yours and runs his fingertips up and down your bare spine. “Why don’t we take a bath after this, hmm? Nice warm bath, then curl up on the couch. You can pick a movie to watch while we eat dinner. How’s all that sound?” 

“Good,” you say, barely audible. Your arms slip around Eddie’s waist, and you pull yourself as close to him as you can in your floaty state. 

Eddie gives you a gentle squeeze in his arms. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you look up at him. Gazing into your eyes, he can see that you’re coming back to him bit by bit. Once you relax your grip on him, he’ll go get you some water to drink and run the hot water for the bath. But right now, he’s going to lay here and enjoy the cuddles that you both need. He knows you’ll thank him for this when you’re fully returned. And he’ll tell you yet again how you don’t have to thank him for it. That he loves being with you like this. The fact that you trust him in this way. Seeing you go from majorly stressed to being totally blissed out was more than enough thanks for Eddie. He feels honored that he gets to help you in this way. His perfect little girl.

“How you feeling?” Eddie asks softly.

“So good,” you say dreamily, making Eddie chuckle. “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, princess.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #request #roses collection

[steddiealltheway]

After a steady amount of failed dates, Steve finally breaks down. He can’t stop the thoughts that maybe he’s broken and unlovable.

He takes a six pack from his fridge and downs the first beer on his way to the backyard. He sets the five remaining drinks by the pool and immediately gets in - not bothering to strip off his clothes. He floats in the center, closing his eyes, trying to not think about Barb or Lover’s Lake or the fact that apparently he’s a bullshit boyfriend and always will be.

A short while later, Steve has downed four of the six pack and lays at the bottom of the pool, staring up at the surface. The water muffles the sound of a car pulling up in his driveway, but he hears it nonetheless. He prays that it isn’t his family.

He sees something move by the surface of the pool, and then the still surface breaks. He sees Eddie of all people diving in beside him, panic clear in his eyes until he sees Steve’s moving. He still grabs onto Steve and pulls him to the surface.

Eddie gasps for air and possibly in fear, pulling Steve into his arms. “I thought you were a fucking goner, man. What the fuck are you doing?”

Steve clutches onto Eddie hard and replies, “I was clearing my head.”

Steve can feel Eddie shake his head as he paddles them towards the edge of the pool. “In your jeans?” Eddie questions but Steve doesn’t reply. He pulls himself out of the pool and lays on the concrete reaching out for another beer he knows lays nearby.

His hand is smacked out of the way, then Eddie sits next to him. “What’s going on, Steve?”

Steve looks Eddie in the eyes and instead asks, “Why are you here?”

“Well, we had Hellfire tonight and-”

“Dustin!” Steve sits up and gasps.

Eddie instantly grabs Steve by the shoulders. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. I gave him a ride home. Told him I would check on you.”

Steve nods. He isn’t even a good babysitter anymore. It’s stupid, but the thought pushes him over the edge. Eddie’s pulling him into his side in no time, letting Steve bury his head into his neck and wet hair. Maybe he won’t notice the tears added into the mix of pool water.

Eddie runs a hand through his hair, and pulls him in closer. “Let’s get you inside before you get hyperthermia and Dustin never forgives me.”

Steve didn’t even realize he was shaking. He guides Eddie into his house, not making eye contact with him. He hears the chatter of teeth behind him though and slowly turns, taking in the sight of Eddie with his nose red and lips blue. He’s almost forgotten that he had jumped in after him.

Steve rushes upstairs into his bathroom and turns on the water for the tub. He yanks a towel out of the closet and goes to hand it to Eddie. Instead, Eddie reaches into the closet and grabs three towels saying, “Don’t worry about me right now. Let me take care of you.”

Steve melts at the words, but he immediately wants to protest. This isn’t him. That isn’t his role. He wants to say something, but Eddie beats him to it and demands, “Take off the wet clothes.”

Steve’s eyes widen and his heart races. Eddie must notice this because he rushes to say, “Except your underwear! I’m… I’m going to as well. If that’s okay with you. Can’t exactly take a bath and avoid hypothermia with wet clothes on.”

Steve just nods because it makes sense and he’s too tired to think. He sluggishly tugs off his shirt but struggles to undo the button on his pants with shaking hands. He finds Eddie’s hands hovering above his. “May I?” Eddie asks.

Steve whispers, “Yes.”

Eddie easily pops the button off and pulls down the zipper sliding the jeans down. Steve swallows thickly. Eddie helps to remove his wet socks as well and throws the clothes into a pile. “Get in the tub please.”

Steve doesn’t protest. He climbs in noticing that Eddie must’ve turned off the water at some point. How long did it take for him to take off his sweater? He almost asks but then Eddie is shucking off his clothes ungracefully, and Steve loses all track of his thoughts.

He makes his way to the tub, awkwardly crossing his arms slightly shivering. Steve can’t decide if he’s trying to cover up, warm himself up, or both. Probably both.

Steve stands up and gestures for Eddie to climb in. He does with his eyebrows raised in confusion. “You sit first,” Steve mumbles, hoping Eddie doesn’t refuse or question him.

He doesn’t. Steve looks down at Eddie and settles between his legs, pressing his back against his cool bare chest. Eddie doesn’t tense up like he expects him to. Instead, he reaches out and grabs the shampoo off the ledge. Steve hears the telltale squirt of the shampoo bottle and feels Eddie massage his scalp.

He relaxes into the touch and closes his eyes. “What were you thinking about earlier?” Eddie prompts.

Steve’s too tired to fight the question. “I’m unloveable.” It’s simple. It’s fact.

Eddie’s hands pause for a few moments and then resume their motion. “And why do you think that?”

Steve sighs. “The only real girlfriend I had was Nancy, and according to her I’m just bullshit and that was all bullshit. And I can’t, for the life of me, find another girl on all these dates that I can actually connect with. And the one time I do it turns out… she’s not even interested in me. And never will be.” His head starts swimming simultaneously drowning with all his thoughts. “Plus, all these fucking kids don’t need me now that the world is saved for good. Maybe every once in a while for a ride, but I don’t know. But I can’t even remember to pick up Dustin. Robin has Nancy and doesn’t ever talk unless we’re working. So. Maybe… Maybe Vecna should’ve chosen me or something.”

Eddie’s heart thuds against Steve’s back and he can hear his breathing speed up after the admission. His soapy hands drop from Steve’s hair to his waist, thumbs making little circles near the scars from the bat bites. Eddie hesitates before dropping a quick, hard kiss on Steve’s temple. “You, Steve Harrington, are anything but unlovable.”

A tear falls slowly down Steve’s face and at first he thinks it’s Eddie’s, but as one falls on the other side, he realizes it’s his own.

“You are the most metal person I’ve ever met. With apparently the softest fucking hair.” Steve laughs at that and relishes in the feeling. Eddie continues, “And all the kids adore you. Need I remind you that Dustin worships you? Still does. In fact, tonight he spent half an hour going on about you because Will and Lucas were there to supply more things about the great Steve Harrington. And… I may have also joined in for a while.”

Steve tilts his chin up to look at Eddie, convinced that he’s joking with him, but the usual telltale smile is gone, replaced with sincere, watery eyes. Eddie stares down at him and adds on, “And Nancy adores you. Even though you and her didn’t work out, she would still die for you and nearly did. Robin is just caught up in a new relationship and will eventually come down from that high. She loves you every bit as much as she loves Nancy just not… romantically. And those failed dates well…” Eddie trails off dramatically before finishing, “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong area.”

Steve shoots him a confused look and asks, “Somewhere not in Hawkins?”

Eddie’s expression is incomprehensible. He takes a deep breath and says, “All I’m saying is, I find you pretty damn lovable.”

Steve stares at Eddie for a few minutes, letting the words sink in. Something has shifted between them, and Steve can’t understand what it is. Then, Eddie’s eyes flicker down to his lips.

Oh.

Oh.

Steve stares at Eddie and asks, “Are you saying that maybe the solution to those failed dates is right in front of me?”

Eddie freezes for a moment and replies, “Well, I would say right behind you, but depends on how figuratively or literally you’re asking.”

It’s such an Eddie thing to say, and it’s exactly what Steve needs right now. Laughter begins bubbling out of him, and he hopes Eddie doesn’t take it unkindly. But it’s so funny to Steve. Eddie was literally right in front of him the whole time.

Eddie the one who saved the world and nearly died doing it. Eddie the one who stayed by his side and went through the same process of recovery from the demobats. Eddie who is the fucking leader of the hellfire club, and still sometimes targeted in the community as a serial killer. Eddie who jumps into freezing pools and cradles Steve in the bath while listening to his darkest thoughts.

Steve laughter dies down immediately as he thinks - Eddie who is right in front of him now looking scared out of his mind, and Eddie who he needs to kiss right now.

Steve’s eyes flicker to his lips and he leans in the small distance that is separating them. He goes slowly, giving Eddie the time to lean in and meet him in the middle.

It takes a moment, but then Eddie is leaning in, too. They kiss gently, and it’s the most comforting kiss Steve has ever had in his life. He deepens it momentarily, hoping it gives Eddie the promise of more to come. As soon as he breaks away, he settles back against Eddie’s chest.

Eddie’s hands come up and continue running the shampoo through his hair while kissing him on the cheek every few moments, listing more and more reasons why Steve is loved.

And Steve feels pretty damn lovable.

#steddie #oops angst #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie bath fic #steddie bath #eddie munson #steve harrington

[indigoflorals]

distraction - j.m & j.r 18+

jj maybank x reader x john b routledge

sum: jj offers his girl to his best friend after his rough breakup

warnings: oral (m), con/non-con, roughness, cum swallowing

𖥸

“You are the best fucking distraction, love.”

When Sarah had broken up with John B, everyone had felt the shift in him. He was noticeably absent from bonfires and keggers, and even JJ had gone days without seeing him. Generally, everyone knew something had to be done.

-

“You know you’re always the best at cheering me up baby. Why don’t you show John B some love, just for tonight, huh?” Your boyfriend’s fingers massaged your scalp lightly from his position on the couch where you knelt in front of him.

“JJ, she really doesn’t have to—“

Your boyfriend waved a hand at his best friends protest, using the other to stroke your face tenderly. “She wants to, doesn’t she baby?”

Your eyes met John B’s warm brown ones, and you nodded hesitantly.

“Don’t be all shy now, baby.” JJ’s soft hand on your cheek slid quickly to a hold underneath your chin. He harshly tilted your face up to make eye contact. “JB, you should see the shit she can do.”

“Only if she wants to,” John B mumbled almost inaudibly. You could see now that he was half hard through his cargo shorts. “If she’s really sure.”

“Oh she is,” Your boyfriend spoke for you, “Now be a good girl and show our friend everything you do for me.”

Your eyes flickered to your boyfriends blue ones, and a softness rose to his face. He was silently checking you for any reluctance.

Scooting from your position in front of the blond, you knelt in front of John B, your hands working fastidiously on his zipper.

A hand grasped your hair roughly, and you felt your boyfriends hot breath on your neck and ear. “Not so fucking fast.”

You whimpered in response, feeling a growing wetness between your own legs. Letting go of his zipper, you moved to palm his now fully erect dick through his shorts.

“Good girl.” JJ smiled at you from his position beside John B, “Keep doing what I say and you’ll be rewarded later.”

Placing kisses along his clothed erection, you could feel your friend take in a shaky breath. He was nervous, and rightfully so.

Your hands migrated now to his zipper for the real thing this time, and he sucked in a breath to hold.

“Relax JB, she’ll take great care of you.” A reassuring familiar hand rubbed your back as you pulled John B’s dick out of his shorts.

You felt him relax, sinking into the couch while taking a fistful of your hair.

It was easy to imagine then, that this was your boyfriend as your took his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. You rubbed your thighs together for friction desperately at the thought.

A groan reverberated through the brunets body. You took more of him into your mouth, moaning at his length.

“Don’t enjoy it too much,” A strong hand came down to smack your ass, “You’re still mine.”

Eager to please your boyfriend, you took all of his best friends cock into your throat in one go. Your eyes watered, and you held back a gag.

“Holy fuck,” John B whined at your throat contracting around him, “How the fuck does she do that?”

“Mm I told you man, s’magic.”

You bobbed your head furiously now, eliciting several moans from the man in front of you. Your hand snaked underneath to palm at his balls, and you felt him pulse in your mouth.

“Fuck,” JJ’s hand came roughly into your hair, and you were suddenly forced down to the base of John B’s cock. “Oh my fucking god.”

You gagged hard, but you boyfriends hand didn’t let up, continuing to face fuck you onto his best friends dick. “Good girl, baby. You’re doing a good job.”

With what strength you had left, you brought a hand to palm your boyfriend through his shorts, feeling how painfully hard he was at the sight of you sucking off his best friend.

“Fuck pretty girl. I’m cumming.” You swallowed against John B’s cock, making eye contact as you felt hot spurts of cum rush into your mouth.

In an instant you were pulled back by your hair, and a hand placed underneath your jaw, holding your mouth closed.

“Swallow his cum, now.”

You obeyed your boyfriends command, feeling the metallic and salty liquid slide down your throat.

Tears ran down your face, and you finally opened your mouth to take in a deep breath.

You watched as John B’s pulled himself back into his shorts, before kneeling down to place a loving kiss to your lips. Your boyfriend didn’t protest.

“Thank you guys, both of you. Really needed it.” He turned to JJ, flashing the smile you were happy to see again.

“Anytime JB,” You boyfriend pulled you to your feet. “Now, you wanna watch me fuck her?”

#outer banks #outerbanks #obx #obx fic #obx imagine #obx season 3 #obx smut #obx2 #jj maybank x reader #john b smut #john b routledge #jj maybank smut #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #john b x y/n #john b x you #john b x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you

[muwapsturniolo]

✯Hoodie Pt 2✯

Summary: Y/N can't get over her breakup with Matt.

warning:angst

pt1

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You'd probably think I was psychotic (If you knew) What I still got in my closet (Sad but true)

She felt like shit. Since Matt broke up with her at the beginning of the summer, she's been crying nonstop. One would think with the way he ended things, she would hate him, but no. Instead, she finds herself finding comfort in an item of his. She knew that if her friends saw how she was coping they would call her psychotic.

I slip it on over my shoulders It's something I'll never get over It makes me feel a little bit closer to you

At nighttime, she would slip the hoodie on, imagining it was Matt holding her. She imagined he would pull her close, whispering sweet nothing in her ear like he used to do.

I can't keep your love I can't keep your kiss Gave you everything and all I got was this

She would go through phases of hating Matt for what he did. She gave him her all, three years of her life...and all she got was a breakup and a hoodie.

I'm still rocking your hoodie And chewing on the strings

At times the girl found herself walking around her apartment wearing the hoodie, chewing on the strings as she carried on with her everyday tasks.

It makes me think about you So I wear it when I sleep

She always had bad insomnia and Matt knew this, so he would sleep over all the time, holding her tightly so she could sleep. But he's not here anymore, so she resulted in sleeping in his hoodie, hoping just the thought and smell of him would be enough to trick her mind into letting her sleep.

I kept the broken zipper And cigarette burns

She was staring at the hoodie one day, examining the blue fabric. She doesn't know why she kept this one, after all the hoodie had a broken zipper and multiple cigarette burns on it. Maybe it was because it was his favorite hoodie, maybe it was because this is the one that holds the most memory.

Still rocking your hoodie Baby, even though it hurts

As much as she wanted to think keeping and wearing the hoodie is helping her cope, it's not. It hurts her to even think about Matt, yet here she is torturing herself.

I used to put my hand in your pockets (holding on) The smell of your cologne is still on it (but you're still gone)

She was doing her laundry, going through the pockets of each article of clothing when she got to the hoodie. She pauses and stares at the blue fabric. She holds it up to her face and sighs, smelling the faint cologne. it's like he's still here. she decides not to wash it, scared she will wash away anything she has left of him.

I slip it on over my shoulders You're someone I'll never get over It makes me feel a little bit closer to you

As she slips the hoodie on over her shoulders, this deep feeling of melancholy hits her. Tears form in her eyes when it finally hits her. She's never going to get over him. he was her first love, her first boyfriend.

I can't keep your love I can't keep your kiss Gave you everything and all I got was this

She gave herself to him, her virginity, her love, everything. He was selfish enough to take it, leaving her with no more love, no more soft kisses...just a hoodie with a broken zipper and cigarette burns.

If you want it back I'm here waiting

She posted a picture of herself in the hoodie, the caption not being subtle at all. She knew she was delusional thinking Matt would see it. But she sat there, hoping he would.

Come and take it back Come and take it back

It was around 20 minutes later of her staring at her phone, when a text came through. She clicks on the notification and feels her stomach fill with butterflies. She responds back quickly, not caring about how eager she seems.

Still rocking your hoodie

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

i hate this, i like matt's better fr.

TAG LIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris girl #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine

[loving-azerath]

Keegan Brain rot

lately this man has been in my head ALL THE FUCKING TIME. SO I am dumping my toxic Keegan brain rot here and I look I get it "why are you romanticizing toxic relationships?" But IM writing it and YOUR reading it so its very much a Girl what were YOU doing at Satan's brunch type thing okay? Okay.

This man is smooth as hell okay? He gets you with that deep fucking voice, and his fucking hot shit attitude. He is hot and he knows it. He walks like its heavy and it is. HE KNOWS IT. He got you so fucking downbad because for the first couple months you guys are literally so fucking in love in hurts. Both of you.

Yes TOXIC KEEGAN fucking loves you. He can't get enough. It's an obsession. Which is why when he sees that coworker talking to you he loses his mind a bit. Thought of anyone else having you? Quite literally breaks this man. You two fight, you break up. You are devastated. He's heart broken. How could he do that when all he was trying to do was keep you? Now though he can't get you out of his head.

He misses every fucking part of you and no matter who he fucks it never compares. So he ends up luring you back in with sweet words and toxic fuckin dick. He fucks you like he gets paid to do it. Hand on your throat in prone bone, fucking into you with almost body slams. Your fucking sounds fueled him because he missed them so fucking much.

He leaves hickies now, needing to mark you as his in hopes to keep other guys from getting too close. Which would have worked. If the guys that were approaching you were interested and not co workers or married friends. Didn't matter what you said to him. Though you aren't innocent in this either. Somewhere you learned that when he gets possessive, when he gets jealous...he fucks you so good that it replays in your head on repeat throughout the next month. When he starts the fights you fucking fight back. With words just as sharp.

It became a cycle before you knew it. Two years gone in it. Going two or three months happy and then one of you fucks it up. You only stay broken up for a month at a time. Its all he can bare. Longer if hes deployed but you bet as soon as he comes home from deployment hes at the bar he knows you like to go to. Tucking you away into a bathroom, caging you in against the sink of the single dirty stall. He knew what to say, and you wanted him so fucking bad. Even when you hated him a part of your body craved him. Craved him so fucking bad. You would pretend not to be interested, knowing it pisses him off. You were already soaked just from having him practically pinning you against the sink. Staring through your pretend uninterest. It would be a battle of who gave in and kissed first. He always lost. He would grab a fistfull of hair from the nape of your neck, pulling your head back enough to get a sweet little whimper from your lips before swallowing it with his own. Which would just give you more whimpers for him to swallow. His lips were always so hungry for you, to taste literally every part. Every inch of your neck and chest. Bruising hickies would litter any place he knew a man would look. When he was so hard he would hurt himself from his dick pressing hard against his zipper and seam of his jeans. He would finally unzip them, free his cock that twitched when freed. Twitched when he pressed it against you just to kiss you again, small grinds because he just needed the friction.

"Fuck..." He practically growl, "Do you have any fucking idea what you do to me doll?"

You would blink twice at him

"Piss you off?" You ask, to do what you may ask? Oh right piss him off because as I said you aren't innocent in this shit. It would work too. He would be fucking fuming. Hiking your dress up without removing his eyes from yours.

"Damn right you fuckin' piss me off." He grinds, his fingers finding your folds, this part always broke you. Every. Fucking. Time. Because his fingers were like magic. The warmth and friction bringing shuttering whimpers which as soon as he heard his cock pressed up against your stomach twitched again.

"You feel, so fuckin wet." He would whisper "I need you so fucking bad baby"

"Beg" You say, straightfaced. His eyebrow twitches in irritation. He should have seen this coming. Truthfully. It didn't matter if it was in a dirty bathroom. You would walk him like the dog he was. He sighs flexing a muscle in his jaw. Before slowly lowering to his knees. His eyes once again, never leaving yours.

"Please baby...I need you so bad" He says kissing your hips, messaging your thighs with your dress still in his hands, moving the fabric up and down your thighs with his movements.

"More"

"You" kiss "are" kiss "Everything" kiss "To me" His mouth hovering right over the one place he wanted to sink in the most. "Please, I don't have purpose when you hate me"

You scoff "Thought your purpose was to make me hate you?" You ask

"Only when we fight baby, I don't wanna right right now" He says smoothly planting another kiss around the one spot you both wanted his lips.

"Then make me forgive you" you say, a smirk crosses his lips before he devours you. Moaning vibrations into your core as soon as he tastes you.

"Fuck baby" He says against you, between laps that he doesn't break his eye contact for. "This is what I'm made for" He says, every lap, suck, flick, and moan is driving you crazy. Your whimpers during into panted mewls and whines.

"Kee..." you whine when you're close.

"I know baby, I know. It feels good. It always feels good. We feel good" He says, sucking on your clit while the high rises. "Let me taste how good I make you feel"

It was always so easy for him to make you cum this way. Your hands gripping the sink behind you as you struggle to keep your sounds under uncontrol. He always pulls away from your sweet core like it pains him to do so. Grabbing your hips and turning you a little too needily around to face yourself in the mirror.

"Fuck look at how good we look together like this baby. Keep watching, you'll see just how perfect we look together." He says, he looks down to guide himself into you and the familiar stretch breaks any resolve you had left.

The sounds your bodies make when they slap together echoed off the tile bathroom walls. Keegan had his hand over your mouth, letting your muffled moans feed his addiction and ego. You catch your reflection, your eyes and brows pulled into a fucked out pleasured expression. Your wetness was drinking down your own thighs and your legs were shaking.

His thrusts getting sloppier and his groans turning into whimpers that made you fucking melt every fucking time. He knew it.

"God you make a mess of me Angel. A fucking mess. All I am without you" he whimpers. "all i fuckin am"

he shoves himself so far inside you that the pressure is almost too painfil while you feel him pump his ropes inside of you. You were panting against his chest as he slowly removes his hand, then himself.

"Forgive me?" He asks as he zips himself up. You just silently nod, brain still fuzzy and feeling the mess he made inside of you leak out. It was filthy, but you loved it. He kisses your forehead. "Good girl, Let's go. I want round two but the ungodly things I'm going to do to you needs privacy"

and then the cycle fucking continues.

#i need it #pleasekillme #keegan smut #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #Poorly written smut #I need to be sedated #The way I need this man should be studied by a team of medical professionals

[elryuse]

Yandere Hanni?

Ruined Photos

YANDERE HANNI X MALE READER

The flash from Y/n's camera seemed to momentarily blind Jisoo, a rising starlet with a face like an angel. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, the perfect pout she'd been holding dissolving. Then, a shriek tore through the studio. Jisoo's stylist, a woman perpetually on the verge of a breakdown, rushed at her, face pale.

"The strap! It's broken!" she wailed, frantically trying to cover Jisoo's chest with a flimsy scrap of fabric. The near-wardrobe malfunction sent a jolt of nervous energy through the crew. Y/n, ever the professional, apologized profusely, his brow furrowed in concern. This was the third "accident" in a month.

It had all started subtly. A misplaced earring here, a strategically undone zipper there. Now, full-blown wardrobe malfunctions were plaguing Y/n's photoshoots, all featuring the hottest female idols in Korea. The whispers started – "cursed camera," "bad luck Y/n." His once booming career was starting to sputter.

Meanwhile, Hanni, the Kpop goddess, the woman Y/n had known since her awkward debut days, watched from the sidelines, a manic glint in her usually playful eyes. She'd seen the way other girls – Jisoo included – fluttered their eyelashes at Y/n during shoots. The way their laughter lingered a touch too long after a shared joke. It ignited a cold fury within her, a possessive fire that threatened to consume her.

One evening, after another disastrous shoot with a pouty idol named Seulgi, Y/n slumped onto his couch, the weight of his failing career pressing down on him. His phone buzzed – a text from Hanni. "Feeling down, sunshine photographer?" it read. A small smile tugged at his lips. Hanni was always there for him, a beacon of light in his dark days.

He drove to her apartment, the familiar scent of jasmine incense greeting him as he entered. Hanni, clad in a baggy sweater and sweatpants, a stark contrast to her usual glamorous persona, was curled up on the couch, a tub of ice cream in hand.

"H-hey," Y/n said softly, concern etched on his face. Hanni offered him a spoonful of ice cream, her smile strained. "Everything's going to be alright, Y/n," she said, her voice a low murmur. "I'll help you, I promise."

The "help" came in unexpected ways. Hanni, known for her shrewd business sense, used her connections to secure him private shoots with high-end brands. He photographed her exclusively, their dynamic shifting from professional to…something more. He found himself drawn to the intensity in her eyes, the way she clung to him after shoots, a silent plea in her touch.

Slowly, subtly, Hanni began isolating him. "Those shoots are beneath you," she'd say, her voice laced with a possessiveness he couldn't quite place. "You deserve better. You deserve me." He, drowning in the warmth of her affection after the cold shoulder from the industry, readily agreed.

One night, after a particularly grueling shoot, Hanni led him to a secluded cabin in the woods. It was supposed to be a getaway, a chance to unwind. But the isolation gnawed at Y/n. He missed the camaraderie of the crew, the thrill of a new project. He tried to suggest going back, but Hanni's smile turned brittle.

"Why would you want to leave, Y/n?" she asked, her voice tight. "Don't you see? We're perfect here. Just you and me."

The final blow came when he found a hidden box in the cabin – newspaper clippings about the "accidents" on his shoots, meticulously documented. The realization hit him like a physical blow – Hanni was behind it all. He confronted her, his voice shaking with a mixture of fear and betrayal.

Hanni's eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now cold and calculating. "I had to," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "They were all trying to take you away from me. But you're mine, Y/n. Mine forever."

The cabin became his gilded cage. He was a famous photographer, yes, but only to Hanni's world. The outside world knew him as her personal chronicler, a mere extension of her carefully crafted image. He yearned for the freedom of his old life, but the fear in Hanni's eyes whenever he mentioned leaving kept him chained to her side.

He photographed her beauty, her sadness, her rage, all the while a prisoner of her twisted love. The flash from his camera no longer captured fleeting moments, but a chilling reality. A reality where the line between love and obsession had blurred beyond recognition, Y/n finished his internal monologue with a heavy sigh. He stared out the cabin window, watching the sun dip below the tree line, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. A pang of longing shot through him, a yearning for the bustling city life he'd left behind.

Suddenly, Hanni materialized beside him, her eyes gleaming with a manic intensity. "What are you thinking about, sunshine photographer?" she purred, her voice laced with a sweetness that sent shivers down his spine.

Y/n forced a smile. "Just admiring the view," he lied, his gaze flickering away from hers. He couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth – that he missed the freedom, the creativity of working with different artists.

As if sensing his turmoil, Hanni cupped his face in her soft hands, her touch sending a conflicting wave of warmth and unease through him. "Don't worry, Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "We have everything we need here. Each other."

The possessiveness in her voice was undeniable, a stark contrast to the playful Hanni he once knew. He wanted to argue, to tell her he craved more, but the fear that flickered in her eyes, a fear of losing him, silenced him. He couldn't bear to see that spark of light extinguish completely.

Later that night, nestled in her arms, a sudden idea struck him. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to salvage some semblance of his career within the confines of his gilded cage.

The next morning, he approached Hanni with a tentative proposal. "How about," he began cautiously, "we create a new concept for your next comeback? Something raw, emotional, shot entirely here in the cabin?"

Hanni's eyes widened in surprise, then a slow smile spread across her face. "A love story, shot by your loving boyfriend?" she said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Interesting."

Y/n elaborated on his vision, weaving a narrative of passionate, all-consuming love set against the backdrop of their isolated cabin life. He poured his longing for a normal career into creating a masterpiece, a testament to their "unique" bond.

Hanni listened intently, her possessiveness morphing into a twisted kind of excitement. When he finished, she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. "Yes, Y/n," she breathed. "This is perfect. We'll show the world the power of our love."

The photoshoot was intense, charged with an underlying current of fear and obsession. Y/n pushed Hanni to her emotional limits, capturing a vulnerability she'd never shown before. The final product was breathtaking – a series of haunting photographs that laid bare the raw, unfiltered essence of Hanni's love for him.

The comeback was a mega-hit. Fans devoured the concept, praising Hanni's emotional depth and Y/n's masterful storytelling through the lens. He became known as "Hanni's Muse," his career tethered solely to her.

Y/n never regained his old freedom, but he found a twisted satisfaction in his work. He was a prisoner, yes, but a highly respected one. He documented Hanni's every whim, every desire, his camera a constant reminder of the beautiful, terrifying world he now inhabited. He was forever bound to the woman who loved him with a passion as all-consuming as it was deranged. He was Hanni's, and Hanni's alone, forever trapped in the gilded cage of her love.

#pham hanni #hanni newjeans #newjeans #newjeans hanni #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #update #photographer

[1d1195]

Zipper Extra V

Read the rest of Zipper here

@jhughesangel (I hope this is you, I think you changed your Username on me since the last time I posted about these cutie pies) I hope you like this, I think you're probably my #1 Zipper fan so it's most important to me that you enjoy it specifically💕

This part is based on this ask from my amazing 🐱-anon, but I lowkey struggled as usual so it turned into Harry being whiny again but I gave her a full blown sob-fest. So hopefully I got it a little right--maybe a little more than normal anyway.

~4.7k words

Warnings: fluff, angst. Maybe a little bit of 18+ stuff but don't blink or you'll miss it.

(Maybe listen to Lover for some ambiance if you feel like it.)

He should have asked her out the moment he met her. They should have been one of those couples that had known since grade school they were destined for each other. It shouldn’t have taken Harry twenty years to come to his senses.

“Are you sure you want to be with Harry?”

It happened while they were at dinner with friends. Her friend Sarah had been wary of their relationship essentially since it started. Harry wasn’t supposed to hear their conversation, he was seated a few seats across and down from the pair of them. It was a hushed whisper and honestly, he had to strain to hear anyway while the guys in the group chatted about something else. Another pair of ladies were off getting drinks at the bar. Leaving Sarah and his angel to chat.

“What?” She nearly laughed. It was a joke, surely, that one of her best friends would say such a thing. Of course, she was sure. In fact, she wasn’t sure of much else in her life. Christmas was on the twenty-fifth, Australia was wider than the moon, nine times four was thirty-six, and she was in love with Harry. It was a fact of life.

But whatever the guys were talking about was irrelevant. Harry was focused so very hard on hearing every word of her conversation—especially when he heard the beginning of it. “I just worry you’re settling,” Sarah whispered. “You don’t have to, you know. You shouldn’t.”

“I really love Harry,” she affirmed. That made Harry feel marginally better.

“But he was an asshole,” Sarah reminded her. “Like...for a really long time,” what hurt more than them talking about this while Harry was in earshot...even if they thought he wasn’t paying attention was that Sarah was right.

“But was he?” She smirked like it was a joke. Surely it was a joke. Sarah loved Harry. She loved Harry. They had a rough start. A different start than most love stories. But it didn’t mean that he didn’t love her any less than if they had a normal approach to their romance. Harry worshipped her now. He wished he always did. He would probably regret it for the rest of his life.

“Babe, he should have kissed the ground you walked on for the entire time you knew him. Yes. He was an asshole.”

“He is not an asshole,” she said softly. Bless her gentle heart for defending him. Harry wanted to kiss her and thank her for being so kind even though she was wrong. Sarah was completely correct. He should have kissed the ground she walked on all the time. For as long as he knew her. He should have asked her out the moment he met her. They should have been one of those couples that had known since grade school they were destined for each other. It shouldn’t have taken Harry twenty years to come to his senses.

“Look, I love Harry,” Sarah said. At least she knew that much. “I just...don’t want your heart to get broken because Harry’s already showed exactly who he is.”

Harry knew that he had a lot to make up for still. But she always reassured him that it wasn’t necessary. It wouldn’t stop him from trying to fix the years of heartache he caused. Harry still thought about the sound of her perfect voice cracking when she asked him why he didn’t like her. Back when he was feeding her Chinese food because he was so worried about her health and how sick she looked from working herself so hard.

Maybe it would never be enough. But Harry wouldn’t let her slip away. Not after wasting all the time of their childhoods, teens, and early adulthood. Harry would never stop proving that this was good, they were meant to be. It was why she instilled confidence in Harry when he seemed like the shittiest boyfriend in the world: forgetting her birthday, giving her the silent treatment when he was frustrated, or when he accidentally ruined her white T-shirt with one of his blue socks. She felt—no, knew—that they were meant to be.

So why wasn’t she telling Sarah exactly that? The pause in their conversation was deafening. Even over the laughter of their friends. Sarah was sipping her drink. Like she was grateful she got through to her. Harry waited anxiously for her to say something.

But she never did.

Sarah didn’t bring it up again or press further. It was all Harry could think about. He wanted an answer. He wanted to know why she paused. Why wasn’t she defending him? Was she...agreeing? The other ladies returned from getting more drinks and the conversation looped back into everyone chatting away.

But Harry felt terrible. She seemed to notice almost instantly. Of course, she did. She always noticed the change in Harry’s demeanor. Always worried about him. She was perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Without fanfare, she got up to change seats to get closer to him; people shifted silently allowing her space. She perched gently on one of his legs, leaned forward, gently kissed his cheek. “You okay, baby?” She asked quietly, nosing at his ear.

No. Not at all. “M’fine,” he grabbed her hand and wrapped his fingers between hers. It didn’t make sense that she would suddenly feel like Sarah was right. Their fingers fit together perfectly. It was fate. They were...perfectly...imperfect.

“Wanna leave so we can go make out?” She asked with a smile.

It was hard to be frustrated when she was adorable. He wished that he had gotten his act together years ago. “Yes, please, kitten.” She pecked his cheek again.

*

The ride home was quiet. She didn’t pay much mind to it because she got a little sleepy after having wine. Harry took the time to think about how terrible he was as a boyfriend. What her silence meant. Was he making this a bigger deal than needed? He should have asked right then.

But they arrived home and made out for a significant amount of time before falling asleep. Harry had his hands in her hair and his lips devoured hers. His tongue searching for the answer to a question he didn’t ask out loud.

His hands slid down her body and back under her shirt. It made him moan against her lips while she kissed him. An involuntary shiver coursed through her body as he touched her. She dreamed of Harry like this more often than she cared to admit. More so when they started working together. Ever more so when they started being friends. She dreamed of Harry’s voice in her ear whispering to her while he kissed her, touched her, slid into her, and made her whimper, begging silently for a euphoric release. “S’matter, kitten?” His lips touched the curve of her ear making her turn to mush in his hands. “Y’worked up?”

She shook her head. “Just...really happy,” she whispered back. He smiled into her skin. He forgot about Sarah’s question. Forgot about how she didn’t say anything to defend him. It wasn’t the time to worry about it. Right now, he wanted to focus on her beautiful body, her soft lips, and just having her in his arms where he felt she belonged most.

Harry’s cologne made her dizzy, made her feel so safe and warm. She didn’t think about what Sarah said. It wasn’t a thought in her mind. Harry wasn’t her settling. He was worth the wait. No matter how painful it was at times. He was hers now; that’s all that mattered. Even at his worst, he was just a bit grumpier than she would have liked.

If not being friends for so long of their lives and not being a couple for just as long—if that brought her to him now, then it was well worth it. She would redo it over and over again and not change one thing. Harry was perfectly... imperfect. Their life just got stuck for a minute. Like when a zipper gets caught on something. They had to clear up the issue and start over from the spot it stuck. But they fit together... perfectly. Snug together zipped to the top. This is where she was meant to be. She wasn’t settling. Not even a little.

*

Harry was unbelievably nice following the night out. She wasn’t complaining in the slightest. It was just a little different. Not quite out of character, but the behavior usually followed a missed date or something that irritated her slightly.

He had to have gotten up an extra hour earlier to bring her coffee and walk with her to work. He held her hand and massaged his thumb on the back of her hand. During lunch she spoke rapidly about her cases, the book she was reading, a new recipe she found and wanted to try. He nodded eagerly at everything. Harry hardly spoke as she filled their lunch hour with just her voice.

But the way he gazed at her made her feel so warm and fuzzy. He had this smile that made half his face quirk up at an angle that made him look like an angel. She loved him so much it made her stomach twist. “What?” She asked wiping her hand across her face. “Do I have something on my face?” He chuckled, shaking his head. Silently, he walked around his desk, pulled her to her feet, wrapped his arm around her waist, cupped her hand in his, and began to slowly sway to the music playing from his phone. Her heart felt like it wasn’t whole up until that point but suddenly it felt like all the pieces snapped together. She looked up at him curiously, a laugh falling out of her mouth as she did. “What is this, Harry?”

He shrugged. “Jus’... I love you, a lot,” he murmured into her ear, pressing a kiss on her temple.

“Enough to dance in the middle of a lunch break?”

“Especially,” he nodded firmly. As if it was obvious, as if it was the only thing that made sense. If this was what everyone did when they worked.

She tried to remember if she had forgotten his birthday. Or their anniversary. But nothing popped into her mind. They were in work clothes, uncomfortable shoes, and her hair was tied up, so it was out of her face. It wasn’t her best look. It wasn’t necessarily what she would consider a good time to dance. But Harry never ceased to amaze her with how romantic he could be.

“Harry Styles, I love you so extremely, much,” she whispered. The sigh that left him sounded relieved, but she didn’t think much of it. She was happy to be in Harry’s arms in the middle of work and dancing like it was the most natural and normal thing in the world.

Even if it wasn’t, she thought it was because of him.

*

But just a few days later Harry practically ignored her. They were watching a movie together and Harry was more engrossed in his phone than the characters on screen.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

She blinked in surprise. “Um... are you mad?” He shook his head, but it felt like the opposite. Frowning, she turned her attention back to the movie. Maybe it was work. There was no way he could be mad at her over something. Nothing came to mind. “Upset?” She asked without looking at him.

“Everything is fine, love.”

She reached out for his hand, he held it lightly, brought it to his lips, and then dropped it back to the couch. Maybe she was reading into it. But dancing in the office in the middle of the week couldn’t have meant nothing and it certainly couldn’t have reverted to this standoffish tone and behavior in a matter of days. Harry scrolled through his phone again silently. “Are you sure—”

“Kitten. M’fine.”

The frown on her lips and between her eyebrows deepened. She was sad that Harry was upset. Even if he wasn’t admitting it. But more so she was worried that it was something she did. Sometimes she had to piece it together because of the knack Harry had for not telling her when something bothered him.

After a few moments of silence, a few moments longer of him ignoring her, he put his phone back on the coffee table. Carefully he pulled her into his lap, so she straddled his waist and he smiled at her like he did right before they danced together. “I adore you,” he murmured bringing her mouth down to his.

She forgot any worry she had when he did that.

*

It was impossible not to notice that Harry was still acting...weird. Since they started dating, he had always been more loving toward her, of course. Especially compared to the decades he wasn’t dating her. But this week...he was nearly attached to her hip. It was like he was nervous to leave her alone or move from her side. Maybe it was something in the air; they were approaching their second anniversary. Maybe Harry was trying to actively remember it this year. It wasn’t his fault—not really. He forgot her birthday again...and their first anniversary. But he warned her from the very beginning that it would happen. She didn’t mind. He always made it up to her and it wasn’t like he...meant to forget it. He set reminders and everything, but he kept managing to be busy.

Perhaps he was starting with the romance before he forgot it so it would lessen the blow.

But then he switched to that off-putting behavior like when they were watching a movie. It switched so rapidly back and forth. Hour by hour. It was like she had two different boyfriends.

After dinner, Harry was in his silent phase again. He was nearly ignoring her. She hated it. “Um...I’m gonna head home, baby. Do you need anything?” She asked.

“No, thank you, kitten.”

He didn’t even try to stop her. Didn’t worry about her Ubering across town alone. Nothing. It was completely different than the guy that begged her to stay the night—that he would wake her and dress her while she slept all in the name of snuggling with her until the morning. Sighing, she rubbed a hand over her face, grabbed her bag and kissed Harry on the cheek as she left him on the couch.

Certainly, she would have remembered if she did something to upset him. She tried to remember every interaction over the beginning of the week when his weird behavior started. As she got into her Uber her phone rang, alerting her that Harry was calling.

“I booked us a weekend getaway,” he murmured.

Blinking at the window, she bit the inside of her lip. “Oh?”

There was a smile in his voice. “Booked us all kinds of pampering, kitten,” he said excitedly.

Oh, he was the most confusing man she had ever met.

*

Their dinner was eaten in silence. Right after they watched another movie without really watching because Harry was busy melting her into the couch cushions with his lips and hands. Harry started clearing his own dish and silverware before she finished eating.

It was enough. She got out of her seat, leaving the plate on the table and followed Harry to the kitchen. He kept his back to her, so she had a moment to look at his cozy frame, draped in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. It made her dizzy to be around him when he looked so cozy. It made her sad she had to bring up something that might upset them both.

But she needed to be an adult. They needed to talk. “Harry, what has been up with you? You’ve been practically suffocating for half the week, and now you’ve all but...stopped talking to me. We’ve talked about this; you have to tell me when things bother you. We can’t use the silent treatment.”

Harry hated the way she said “we”. He hated it because she meant it so kindly—they were a partnership. They would get through it together no matter what it was. Even though everything she said was all on Harry.

But she didn’t tell him what she was thinking either. That much was made clear by her conversation with Sarah. Maybe she resented Harry more than he thought. More than she let on. Maybe that was her issue. But Harry didn’t want her to have an issue. He wanted her to be her—she was perfect. Truly. But sometimes Harry thought she didn’t push back. Maybe if she did when they were younger, things would be different. They would have gotten together sooner. At best, that was joint blame. But at worst, of course, that was Harry and his unapproachable nature the entire time he knew her.

But Harry didn’t speak.

“Is this just...some... trick? So you don’t forget our anniversary? I already told you I don’t care—”

“Jesus Christ, that too,” he muttered to himself and ran a hand through his hair. Just another thing that he was bad at. Another reason she was just settling for less than she deserved. She watched his head fall lower. His shoulders slumping forward. He needed to do something about the important dates.

She sighed, feeling exasperated by his reluctance to tell her what was wrong. “Harry, I’m trying to help, but—”

“Why didn’t you defend me?” He asked. His voice cracked as he spoke.

The sound of distress in his voice made her stomach violently ache. She had never heard Harry so sad before. It was heartbreaking. “What are you talking about, Harry?” She tilted her head and the annoyance in her voice was gone. Harry was clearly upset, and that broke her.

“Sarah said y’settled,” his voice was so sullen. Sad. The poor thing. He was leaning against the sink, facing away from her. Harry was tall and fit. His shoulders were broad, and she never felt as safe walking down the street at night as she did when Harry was beside her.

Right now, he looked so small and broken. His tall frame shrank under the weight of whatever he was feeling. But she didn’t even know what he was talking about; what did he mean about Sarah? “What... when did Sarah say that?”

“When we were out with everybody,” he mumbled. “Last weekend. Y’jus’... sat there,” he couldn’t face her. Because of course Sarah was right. Harry didn’t deserve her. She was too good.

“Baby,” she whispered softly and touched his back. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch. She frowned. “I don’t know—”

She was going to make him say it. She was going to make him say the very words that plagued him since the dinner conversation he overheard. This was worse than just thinking about it all week. This was punishment for everything he had ever forgotten. Every moment of those twenty something years accumulated into this one moment of absolute anguish—and he had to say it out loud with his own words. “Sarah said y’settled for me. And... that y’shouldn’t be with me.”

There was a flurry of activity in her brain trying to place what he was talking about.

“Harry,” she tried to keep her voice quiet and soft. She didn’t want to say he was ridiculous because it was so obvious, he was upset, and she didn’t want to minimize that feeling. Harry had a lot of emotions for someone who rarely expressed how he was feeling (except for grumpy—he was good at that one). “Baby, please look at me,” she whispered.

“No,” he muttered grumpily.

She sighed. “Baby, please,” she pleaded softly wrapping her arms around his waist. “S’okay,” she promised. “We’re fine.”

“We’re not fine,” he sounded so broken. Her heart thudded in her chest. This felt bad.

“Harry,” she tried again. He tried to push her away. It felt so awful. It was like... an ending. Her heart was breaking. “Harry, stop,” the tears sprung to her eyes. “Please,” she begged but her voice made this shaky cracking sound so loud and so sharply Harry thought she broke a bone—it was the only thing that could sound so sad like that. Harry nearly forgot why he wasn’t looking at her. He spun so fast to face her. He examined her for injury quickly scanning her from head to toe.

“Kitten?” He asked. She sniffled and Harry frowned, pulling her toward him and kissing the top of her head. “S’matter, love?” He whispered. As if he hadn’t just broken her heart.

“I should have defended you,” she croaked. She should have. Even if she didn’t remember the conversation now. Harry was sad. It made her sad. This was so bad. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Harry. I don’t... Sarah was just looking out for me... I don’t know—” she hiccupped.

“Kitten, s’okay,” he murmured comfortingly, rubbing his hand up and down her back soothingly.

“You’re gonna break up with me, aren’t you?” She asked.

His mouth dropped open releasing a surprised gasp. “Baby, of course not. No,” he squeezed her tightly. “I may be an idiot, but m’not stupid,” he kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her forehead for a long period of time.

“Why wouldn’t you look at me? You said we weren’t fine,” she continued to snivel and ruin Harry’s shirt. His cologne was so comforting it was hard to remember why she was sad. Maybe that was his plan. She would forget that they were having an adult conversation. That it would lull her gently and he could break up with her.

“Kitten,” he sighed and brought his hands to her face. “I love you with m’entire being.”

“But...” she sniffled finishing his thought.

“Y’don’t think you’re settling? Sarah was right... I was so mean t’you... and I should have worshipped—”

She sniveled more. “I don’t care about that.”

“Please stop crying, love. You’re breaking m’heart.”

“I think you want to break up,” she repeated, her voice shaking with every word.

“Angel, m’never letting y’go,” he promised. “It took me a while...but m’never gonna lose you. Not ever,” he brushed his thumbs below her eyes swiping away the tears that had fallen. “Baby,” he murmured. “I jus’... I feel like m’going t’be groveling forever and I should...but s’hard. I want t’be the best for you.”

“But you don’t need to grovel. You are the best.”

“I don’t think y’believe that...s’why y’didn’t answer Sarah,” he smirked sadly. Like he knew her own thoughts better than herself.

“Harry,” she whined. “That’s not true.”

Harry kissed her forehead. “I’ve loved you for s’long… I was too stupid t’realize it.”

“You said you weren’t breaking up with me!” The silence was deafening. The sound of her tears and sniffles were the only thing that could be heard. “Baby,” her voice cracked again.

“I think you should break up with me.” The sobs that left her at that moment were so loud. So full of anguish, it broke Harry’s heart. “Kitten,” he whispered. “S’okay.”

“I hate Sarah.”

“No, y’don’t, angel. Not at all,” he murmured. “She’s your best friend. She loves you. She wants what’s best for you.”

“You are what’s best for me.” He didn’t say anything in response. Why didn’t she just defend him last weekend? Why did Harry overhear? “You’re just gonna give up?”

“No love, of course not. Jus’ told you m’never letting you go.”

“So why are you—”

“Kitten, y’need t’know you’re a queen,” he returned his hands to her face a rubbed away the tears again and pressed a kiss to the center of her forehead. It felt like the pressure of his lips was seeping right through her skull and easing all the tension in her brain. “You deserve so much more than me.”

“I don’t want it,” she sniveled. “Please stop telling me what I need,” she whimpered. Harry didn’t speak. She tried again. “Were you mad...all week?”

“Not at you, m’love. At myself. Y’did nothing wrong. Y’jus’...brought it t’my attention. I wanted you t’defend me...but I... I didn’t really do anything worthy of defending myself,” he shrugged. After a few moments he spoke again after contemplating the week. “I guess I was pretty mad with myself,” he admitted. He wanted her to defend him. But she couldn’t. Subconsciously or not. There was no reason to defend him and his shitty performance as a person growing up in her life. Forgetting her birthday, their anniversary, or just...anything. His grand gestures didn’t matter. She was an angel in every meaning of the word. His perfect angel. It was infuriating. But she just...didn’t have it in her to tell her best friend that Harry was worth it. It made him mad. It wasn’t fair, it didn’t make sense, but it made him mad, nonetheless.

She frowned, the tears slipping over his thumbs faster than he could push them out of the way. She felt helpless. It was her fault it was like this. It was her fault that Harry wanted her to break up with him. It made her sick to her stomach. “I don’t want to. Please don’t make me,” she sniffed again. Harry had never seen anything as sad as the tears in her eyes. “You make me whole, Harry,” she cried still, and Harry felt like he was really making this worse than he wanted it to be. He just wanted her to be sure. She deserved every bit of happiness life had to offer... and part of Harry thought that might not be him.

“Hmm?” He smirked sadly. That piqued his interest though. “How’s that, baby?”

She inhaled shakily and Harry saw the tears start to settle. She swallowed trying to regulate her breathing so she could speak quietly. “When you danced with me at work,”

“Oh?” He asked.

“That was the most…romantic thing I’ve ever experienced,” she looked at him through her wet lashes. Harry thought that even when she was sad, she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever laid eyes on. It pained him to think he was ever anything but sweet to her. That he didn’t cherish every moment with her like he wouldn’t get another.

Smiling, he wrapped his arm around her waist and cupped her hand in his again. “Yeah?” He asked, starting to sway just as he had the other day. It felt just like it did in that moment. Her heart seemed to stop and start at the exact same moment. She wished with everything in her that she had fought Harry and told him that he was an idiot back when they were younger. Not because she was mad—just that she wanted more romantic moments like this. All the pieces of her heart snapped together. Her cheek smushed against his chest listening to his heartbeat. “Like this?” He whispered.

She nodded silently. “You’re the most confusing man I’ve ever met.”

He chuckled. It was a warm, gentle feeling and made every nerve in her body feel like it was melting. “M’sorry, baby,” he kissed the top of her head.

“I don’t want anyone but you,” she whispered. “You bought me all those flowers, all the getaways, the way you get medicine for me when I don’t even know I need it. You always check to make sure I ate lunch. And when I fall asleep on the couch you always take the hair elastic off my wrist,” she reminded him. “I’m sorry. You are so worthy of being defended.”

Harry chuckled quietly, his breath getting lost in her hair and warming the top of her head. “Then s’enough for me,” he twirled her beneath his arm, wrapped her back into his embrace and dipped her to kiss her so sweetly she thought her heart would totally give out. She wasn’t sure she would ever get over the electric feeling of kissing him. She hoped she never did. “M’sorry I didn’t tell y’what I was feeling. I won’t bring it up again. If y’want me, I won’t question it.”

She pressed her face back into his shirt and clung to him like she would somehow fall out of his hold. “You never need to. I love you so much,” her voice was firm.

“Good,” he nodded. They danced quietly for a few moments in total silence. Her breathing evened out. He kissed her hair again. “In case I haven’t said it in a while and it wasn’t completely obvious...I love you so very much too, kitten.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @st-ev-ie @lovrave @harrysxcarolina

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles sad #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #lawyer!harry styles #coworker!harry styles #college!harry styles #zipper

[writerpetals]

cocky | 🔞

; optional male lead smut |  ☁️

w; college!au, professor/student relationship 

He has a cocky attitude and a desire to always pick the worst choices. He’s a little full of himself, yet he doesn’t let it affect the way he treats others. He can be arrogant at times, and take it in the worst ways if he is ever rejected.

That’s why you knew you were in trouble the minute he walked into your classroom. Teaching college students is never too stressful for the most part. Most of them are mature enough, you have to give them that, yet when you laid eyes on him, you could already see the whirlwind of flirtatious lines you were going to cross.

“What if we get caught?” you ask him, words mumbled against his skin with his lips pressed to yours. It doesn’t take you long to fall into his trap, and even though you are his professor, it’s hard to act as such when he knows every nerve and button to press to get you riled up and going.

“Who cares?” His chuckle after he replies tells you he really doesn’t care. He couldn’t have cared any less as he slips your blouse over your head, leaving you in the sexiest, strapless, black bra he could ever lay his eyes on.

“We’re going to get caught.” You sound like a broken record in the dimly lit supply closet he pushed you in that afternoon after all classes were dismissed. Not many people are left on campus, but your heart still pounds away in your chest from the risk of it all.

“Shut up,” he groans, knowing you can’t take his words seriously, with his hands running over your breasts to have your head resting lazily on the door he has you pressed against. “You worry too much.”

“I’m your professor,” you whisper, afraid your emotions will get the better of you if you let them. “This is so, so wrong.”

“Really?” Even in the poor lighting you could see his smirk, with his brows raised as a hand slips beneath your skirt to settle between your thighs. “Does this feel wrong?” With that his fingers press to your folds, feeling the silk fabric of your panties and a whimper from your lips fill the small space between the two of you.

“God…” you moan, eyes closing a second later to give in to his fingers pressing harder against your center. “Just fuck me already.” You could never resist him, no matter if it’s a cocky, flirty pass at you, a brush of your shoulder, or even a wink. He always knows what to do to have you becoming a mess before him, to have you become his.

“Sure thing, professor.” The confident laugh that fills the closet tells you he’s pleased with his persuasion, with his hands moving to your thighs to slip your skirt higher, before tugging at the hem of your panties and watching as they fall to the ground at your heels.

Then he reaches for the button on his pants, quickly unfastening any clasp and pulling any zipper to push his clothes lower, revealing his hard, needy cock a moment later. He reaches in his pocket, pulling a wrapper from within to cause you to wonder if he had the whole thing planned all along.

You don’t question it much more as he rips the packet with his teeth before slipping the condom down his length, readying himself at your entrance as he eases your thigh over his hip. His eyes meet yours as the tip of his member teases your entrance, noticing the smirk appear once again on his lips. You push your hips toward him, gripping his shirt in a fistful of cloth and releasing a breathy ‘hurry up’ before you can change your mind.

He wastes no more time pushing himself into you without warning, earning a gasp while he fills you up. He presses his body into you, allowing your lips to collide with his and moan into the kiss when you feel him pull away just enough to slam back into you. A single hand reaches for him, pushing your fingers through his hair before tugging to encourage his motions, until he grips your wrist to press your arm near your head against the wooden door.

His eyes darken as he looks down at you, and you quickly shut your own as he pumps himself between your thighs over and over. His motions are aggressive, sloppy, and wild, but it’s more than enough to have you biting down on your lip to keep quiet.

He knows just what he is doing, thrusting in and out with force and holding you in place with one hand on your thigh and the other pinning your wrist to the door. He challenges you to keep quiet, knowing the sounds of your body hitting the door fill the hallway outside of the supply closet.

“Slow down,” you moan, and he would have listened if the lust in your voice didn’t give away you wanting anything but that, “you’re going to-to get us c-caught.”

“So?” He smirks, before grunting and pumping himself harder, faster inside of you until your mind goes numb. “I don’t fucking care.”

“..., fuck…” You can hardly keep it together. Each time he thrusts back into you pushes you closer and closer to that edge that doesn’t care how loud you are. You moan and whimper and gasp his name, becoming overwhelmed with pleasure and you just need that little extra something to reach your peak.

You reach between the two of you with the hand he isn’t holding, gathering enough strength to find your clit and begin pleasuring yourself as he pushes in with force, and pulls out just enough to pump himself back in with a twitch of his hips. Your fingers work in circles over your clit, his sudden groans and heavy breaths hitting your ears, and just when you are so close to that edge, his lips crash into yours, silencing your cries while you come undone.

You shake in his hold, pulling away for a moment as the waves of pleasure surge through you, gasping for breath before he pulls you right back to him. His motions never cease, continuing to thrust with just enough force to have you seeing stars and have him spilling over the same edge in a burst of nearly silent whimpers and curses.

Your bodies become sweaty in the stuffy closet by the time you both are coming down from your pleasure. He pulls away, and you are too dizzy to notice him rid himself of the condom and adjust his clothes. You remain limp against the door, knowing any second your trembling legs will fail you and you will go crashing to the floor.

Luckily you feel his arm wrap around your waist, and your eyes fluttering open to see the same smirk on his lips before he leans in to press them against your forehead. You gather enough strength to push your skirt down your thighs when he pulls away, noticing your panties still on the floor a second before he scoops them up in his hands.

“I need those,” you whisper, scared of your voice shaking if you speak any louder.

But he only chuckles, licking his lips and shaking his head. “How about I keep them for now?” Your eyes widen at his words. “You can get them back next time.”

You huff with a release of his name, rolling your eyes at this impossible boy.

“Don’t worry, professor,” he says, kissing your lips when he pauses, then pulling away to leave you speechless, “I won’t tell anyone. This can be our little secret.”

#bts smut #marvel smut #call of duty smut #twilight smut #harry potter smut #jungkook smut #loki smut #nct smut #got7 smut #monsta x smut #stray kids smut #harry styles smut #ghost smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #x reader #x reader smut

[yoruqueenofnightsims]

Tutorial: Converting all types of CAS CC to work with color sliders (+ how to disable it)

This enables CAS CC to work with Color Sliders for Hair, Clothes, & Accessories by thepancake1 and @mizoreyukii.

Since S4 Studio only let's you batch convert hairs and update makeup for compatibility, I present to you: TS4AlphaConverter_2_2_0_0 by CmarNYC.

Keep in mind that enabling CAS CC for color sliders will increase the file sizes of your .package files!

Sliders will also always affect all the texture, i.e. you can't exclude accessories like buttons or zippers, so some textures might not work well.

Also check out this tutorial: Fixing slider compatible CAS CC with broken textures

💜 Requirements:

Color Slider mod

TS4AlphaConverter_2_2_0_0

CAS CC you want to enable

Featured CC by @trillyke @daylifesims @jius-sims @magic-bot

💜How to enable CC for color sliders

1. Download the required program, mod and CC you want. This is my outfit before sliders:

2. Open up Alpha Converter

3. For enabling sliders, you can only use the folder option and not single files: Select your input folder which contains the .packages you want to enable. Then select your output folder where you want to save the new files. "Include subfolders" is handy if your CC goes into more folders inside your input folder. It will reproduce the same file structure.

4. I would recommend enabling "Don't change package names" so you can just replace your input files directly, otherwise it adds "_Fixed" at the end of the filename. I will also leave "Don't copy unchanged packages" checked.

5. Next we will select "Convert RLE2 to LRLE" to enable color sliders. I will explain the others later. It then enables "Convert only textures linked from CASPs" which is good, e.g. it will only target actual CAS CC textures then and no Build & Buy for example. Leave "Convert all diffuse textures linked from CASP" checked if you want to convert all types of CAS CC.

6. These are my finished settings:

7. Press "Go". It will then take a while depending on file amount and swatches, as it will have to go through textures one by one.

8. Check your finished files. The file size should be bigger, in this case it went up by 30 MB for only 5 files.

This is how the outfit looks after applying sliders to all pieces:

💜 How to disable CAS CC for color sliders

This time select "Convert LRLE to RLE2". You can leave "Convert only textures linked from CASPs".

2. Press "Go" and let it do it's thing.

3. As you can see, the file size went down again (middle), but it is not the same size as from the original file (right).

You will no longer be able to use sliders on the CAS CC piece, except transparency, which always works.

💜 Fixing slider compatible CAS CC with broken textures

If some of your CAS CC displays huge areas of missing, pixelated textures there is an issue with compression.

I don't know how and why this happens, but check out * this tutorial * on how to fix it.

@thefoxburyinstitute @maxismatchccworld @emilyccfinds @sssvitlanz

#yoru tutorials #ts4 tutorial #ts4 resources #tutorial #Sims 4 tutorial #s4 guide #ts4 guide #Sims 4 studio #Sims 4 cas #ts4 cas #color slider #cmarnyc #thepancake1 #mizoreyukii

[chaotic-iguana]

Home

masterlist. ao3.

Summary: reader leaves joel and sarah to pursue a job offer in nyc, thinking it would be easier than watching the relationship die from a distance. she soon realises her mistake and scrambles to fix it. based on this request. 

Pairing: joel x fem! reader (no use of y/n) no outbreak au

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: no smut, just a lot of angst, fluff and attempted humour

A/N: So, I’m clearly incapable of writing short drabbles (sorry lmao) let me know your thoughts!

“‘M just not gettin’ why we can’t make it work?” Joel throws his hands up, hot at your heels while you wipe your eyes on your sleeve and rush to the bedroom. 

“I’m not saying I don’t want to. I’m just saying its unfair to the both of us. I don’t know how long I’ll be down there. What if we find other people? Long distance never works, Joel. I don’t get why you can’t just let it go.” Yelling over your shoulder, you start shoving your clothes into your suitcase, wincing at the harsh scoff he lets out. 

You’d known how this was going to go. You loved Joel, so much. But you had worked practically your whole life to get the job you’d been offered last week. It started in a month, but it was all the way in New York. And you’d known while reading the email, as your initial excitement settled, that the slimy feeling coiling in your gut was right - you’d have to leave Sarah and Joel behind. 

Your experience with long distances in relationships wasn’t great - and more importantly, it would be unfair to both your boyfriend and the girl you considered your own daughter for you to expect them to sit around and wait for you, indefinitely. Because you truly had no idea how this was going to go, at all. 

You wanted to wait until the flight tomorrow morning to break things off with Joel, but he’d been so sweet while helping you get everything together last minute and he’d figured out that something was up almost immediately. So now, here you are. Having a messy breakup with the love of your life 9 hours before your flight to New York. Where you’d live, for god knows how long. 

But this was good, wasn’t it? You were finally reaping the benefits of all the summers spent indoors and working, the missed birthday parties, the cancelled plans. You were finally getting everything you’d ever wanted, right? Except your palms felt clammier, your eyes glossed over with tears and your mind was completely blank as each sharp breath you gulped made you wince like a shard of glass. 

Joel stood to your sight, arms hanging limp to his sides and his eyes on the ground, brows furrowed. He looked heartbroken, and it felt like it was physically tearing you apart not to go and smooth his frown away, kiss away his scowl. You wanted to fix his hurt, but you couldn’t - you were the one hurting him. It was for his own good though. He’d find someone nice, how could he not, and he would be happier. The thought of him holding someone else, of Sarah running up to anyone else with that twinkle in her eye, of someone else fitting into your family made your chest ache.

Nothing is permanent, and they know I love them. They have to know I’ll always love them. They’ll get someone better, they’ll be happier. It’s going to be okay, everything’s gonna be just fine. A stream of rambling consciousness starting playing like a broken record player in your mind, reasoning and justifying what you were doing even as your body-your whole fucking being was protesting it. Your hands were trembling, it’d taken you three tries to close the damn zipper and you knew it. 

Turning to your Joel-not anymore, is he? you’re letting him go, you goddamn idiot (helpful supplication, brain, thank you for making me cry harder)- you sidestep him, leaving him standing dejectedly in the bedroom to drag your suitcase to the curb. The image of him with his head bowed; shoulders slumped as he closes his eyes and clenches his fist, agony radiating from him, is one that sears itself into your memory on your way out. Double checking your passport, boarding pass and phone, you walk in to stand in front of him again, gently bringing a hand up to his cheek to make him look at you. When he opens his eyes, they’re completely bloodshot and lined with unshed tears, breaking you; using all your willpower not to break down and pull him closer, take his pain away. Reigning your raging feelings, you stand on your tiptoes to brush a kiss against his cheek. “Be happy, Joel. Tell Sarah I love her.” You whisper into his skin and turn to leave, startling when he grabs your wrist. 

“Tell her yourself. ‘S gonna break her heart tomorrow mornin’ if she wakes up an’ you’re not here.” He’s searching your sorrowful eyes, watching his words break your façade as you clamp your teeth down on your bottom lip and shake your head fast as more tears spill down your cheeks. 

“C-can’t. I can’t. Please.” 

Joel wants to gather you in his arms, stroke your hair till you calm down. But you’ve got your walls up now - crumbling, shaky walls but still, a barrier you’ve very much built between the two of you. He wanted your happiness, your successes, more than anything, but he wanted to cheer you on by your side, too. He was willing to wait, to call when you could - phones were getting smart now? - but you’d convinced yourself you were doing yourself and him a mercy by ending it. So he just nods, once, before gulping and pawing at the table to swipe his keys. The question written all over your face makes him want to laugh - did you really think he loved you so little he’d leave you to find your own ride to the airport at 9 fucking pm even if you couldn’t stand to look at him anymore? 

So he hauls your bags off the curb and into his truck, yanking the passenger side door open and gesturing for you to sit with a jerk of his head. Once you clamber in, he walks over to the other side and starts the truck, hating every second of this. He wants to scream, shout, and beg you to stay so badly. But if you think this’d make you happy, he’d do it. Anything. 

He just couldn’t understand why you kept saying he’d find better, be happier. As if he’d even try. Sarah’s mother had left, and he’d been crushed - had sworn off dating altogether. But you had come along; your lilting giggles and twinkling eyes carving a place in his heart. He hadn’t been with you because he was looking for anyone, he’d been with you because he thought he had found the one. But clearly he was wrong. Again. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he clenches his hands tighter around the wheel to steady them . His mother had always told him if it’s meant to be, it’ll be - and you won’t have any say in it. He knows it’s cliché, but if there’s even a grain of truth to be found in it, he’ll treat the saying as if it were gospel.   

He can hear you sniffing your way there, heart breaking at the soft sobs that escape you, but he makes no comment. There’s no need to make this harder for you. You’d nearly fallen apart when he mentioned Sarah, and he could see in your eyes that if he asked you to stay with him, to sacrifice everything entirely, you’d do it without thinking. But he didn’t want that- could never want that for you. And so he stayed quiet, the stifling silence of the truck broken only by your muffled crying. 

Pulling up outside the airport, he steps out and takes your bags down in complete silence. Itching to fix the awkwardness, he smoothes his hands over his shirt and sneaks a glance at you. You-his headstrong, terrifying little thing - looking this small, this defeated  - feels so wrong that he can’t help but grasp one of your hands in his. Hooking a finger under your chin, he tilts your head up and smiles softly when you meet his eyes. “‘F you ever need me, you call me, you hear? Don’t matter if it’s five am and you’re thousands of miles away. I’ll find you, okay?” Your head barely dips in a nod as you stare at him like you’re trying to memorise the curve of his nose; the set of his jaw. 

Releasing you and stepping back, he plasters a wider grin on his face as he ushers you inside, stopping only to whisper “Don’t be a stranger, hotshot.” The tiny grin blooming on your face sends victory-fueled adrenaline pumping in his veins, his stomach twisting with butterflies at the final step: watching you walk away. He waits till you’re inside and out of his sight, letting a long breath loose in resignation. 

He can see how unsteady your feet are, how you stumble and nearly trip over yourself. She’ll be okay, she’ll be happy. If Joel was a better man, he’d try and understand why you just left him. He would gladly have learned it all for you - the SMS texting, even the Skype stuff he’d heard of from a colleague; apparently you could see someone on your phone while talking to them - even if he was all thumbs at it. Sarah would likely have helped him with it, too, the girl loved you so damn much she would have gone outta her way to find ways to make the distance feel as normal as possible. But you didn’t ask for any of that. No, you asked him to let you go. So he would. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sit in the lounge, miserable. Forcing yourself to take your mind off the clusterfuck that your life has become, you reach out for a magazine and start flicking through some mindless droning bullshit about a celebrity being spotted at a bar. Anxiety and unease had the wheel now, so you decide what the hell, and walk to the airport bar, ordering whiskeys one after the other until your head is swimming and you can’t remember how to stay upright walking in god knows which corridor of this too-big airport. Funnily enough the only thing the alcohol isn’t strong enough to wipe is Joel. How you didn’t even say goodbye properly, not to him and not to Sarah. They deserved better. You’re doing them a favor by leaving. 

Your head swarming with stinging taunts directed towards yourself, you stumble into the bathroom and begin a four-hour-long stint of curling up next to the milky white porcelain, hurling intermittently as you lay on the filthy vinyl floor and relish the cold bite against your burning skin. Drinking on an empty stomach had been shit oversight on your part, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d made more mistakes than one tonight…

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your job was all you could have asked for. The opportunity of a lifetime, with a salary high enough that your account was close to hitting 6 figures in less than a year. It had taken a long time and a lot of hard work to reach here, but it was worth it. The job was, atleast. But when you swung your door open late at night, walking into a dark, cold apartment; when you got sick and had to lay shivering in bed alone for a week; when the weekend rolled around and all you could do was curl up in bed and sob into your pillow - you knew that this wasn’t worth the cost of your relationship. You’d lost weight, your eyes had semi-permanent bruises under them, your hands shook most of the time now. 

It was getting worse and worse, until one morning when your alarm went off for work, you just shut it off and slept in some more. Then cleared out the depressive clutter that had started to overflow on every table, in every cabinet. Threw out the half-empty liquor bottles and for the first time since you had landed here, you knew what you were doing.

You were going back to Texas. Fuck your two-week notice. You’d made enough money to sit on your ass and do small jobs for the rest of your life if you wanted to. The eight-month stint at the firm you were currently working at - even just summarized in two lines on your CV - would help you get better jobs than you were doing before. But you weren’t going back to Austin for work, not really. 

You missed Sarah like a phantom limb; it felt like someone had ripped away a part of you and forced you to live with it. You missed her jokes, her laughter, the way she’d get excited about something and talk your head off. And him. You didn’t miss him, you fucking ached for him like a lovesick puppy. His name alone made you ache, and he plagued every single minute you spent awake since you left. You kept replaying that night over and over again; every single minute of it immortalized in your memory like your own personal purgatory (fun!). Joel, who would have held your hair back when you hurled your guts up at the pavement on the bad nights. Joel, who would have held you and fed you and loved you and why the fuck did you ever think it was a good idea to leave him, again? 

Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you packed your things into the same bag you’d arrived with. You hadn’t even bought anything to furnish the apartment, making do with the too-small bed, cabinet and wonky table the landlord had provided - as if you’d known you wouldn’t stay. And you suppose, perhaps, a part of you did know. How was any of this worth anything if he wasn’t with you? The long-term good can go fuck itself. I need to see him. Should I just knock on his door randomly like a creep? No, that’s weird. What if he has another girlfriend now? Yeah, I should ask him before showing up. What if he doesn’t pick up? Where will I go if he isn’t there? God, fuck this. Get on a goddamn plane before you change your mind, idiot. 

With these (wonderful) thoughts dizzying you, you reach the airport and ask the counter for a ticket home. Turns out there’s a flight in thirty minutes - which is great because on one hand you can get rejected earlier - but also means that you need to decide whether or not to text him beforehand. Within the next half hour. Which you then spend wringing your hands, pacing, and by the time you decide to text him, your phone has run out of battery. See this? This, my friends is luck. (or, you know, dramatic plot writing.)

Huffing, you debate yourself every single step of the way onto the plane, practically having a panic attack by the time you find your seat and settle in. There are just so many reasons this could just be another shitshow. You can’t go back in time and fix what you did, but you owe it to yourself and to him to apologise and give him the truth. And so you lie back in your seat and browse yet another crappy magazine to pass the time, eventually giving up and fitfully sleeping through the turbulence. 

By the time you reach his door, its eleven pm on a Tuesday night. Meaning Sarah’s gone to bed, and Joel’s halfway there himself. This is not the time. Or the place. But you don’t find yourself having any better, genius ways to do this - so before you talk yourself into going home quietly - you’re rapping a fist against the door, careful not to be loud enough to wake Sarah up. It’s a school night. Holding your breath, you become suddenly all too aware of your flushed face and the sweat on your palms as you hear familiarly heavy footsteps reaching the door. One half of your mind is yelling at you to turn the fuck around and run what are you doing he won’t take you back you broke his heart get out get out get out while the other half seems to have just short-circuited, leaving you frozen on his porch as his door swings open. 

You watch his eyes widen in surprise, and the slight furrow in his brow as he starts scanning you - for injuries, you realise - he thinks you're hurt or that something’s gone completely sideways. Clearing your throat, you wait for his gaze to snap back to yours before flashing him a meek smile. “C-can I come in? Please?” He just stares at you for a second, and then he’s nodding, stepping to the side and opening his door wider. And God, even that’s enough to have butterflies fluttering in your stomach, your throat going dry. He’s clearly mad at me, but he’s letting me in. At eleven pm. Fuck, I love him. 

You sit on your side of the couch and the sheer mundanity of it hits you like a brick to the face. Joel brings you both beers from the kitchen before sitting across from you, still eyeing you with equal parts suspicion and concern. You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, looking down at your hands and trying to figure out what the fuck to do with my mouth what do I even say until he breaks the silence. “So, how’s work been?” 

And now your hands are shaking again, and you freeze. Because what do you say now? Work’s great, practically a corporate wet dream, but useless. See, turns out I made the biggest mistake of my life by leaving - fucking moped about like an idiot the whole time, was practically a minute away from writing you some big shitty sonnet or something to beg you to take me back. Decided against it because that would have taken like $50 dollars just to SMS. ‘Course I could have boom-boxed it, ‘Say Anything’ style, but recording a fucking sonnet on a cassette would probably have shredded my dignity irreparably. Not that this isn’t, it’s just less of a socially-masochistic option, you know?

And it isn’t until you hear him choke on his beer and look up at the amusement on his face that you realise you just said all of that, out loud. You slap a hand to your mouth just as he starts laughing: head bowed, eyes closed and his shoulders shaking - just like that night, but he’s not in pain this time; he’s practically howling with laughter, clutching his stomach with one hand and holding his beer in the other. 

You freeze again, eyes wide and staring in shock at the fact that that just came out of my mouth. And he just heard it. He shakes his head, still chuckling, and pointedly wipes a tear from his eye. Bastard. You, on the other hand, are completely panicking still - that was the shittiest apology you could have given him and where the fuck did that messily written draft you wrote drunk on the takeout bill last night go? It isn’t until he’s looking right at you with a shit-eating grin on his face that you react, blinking and looking down at your hands again. 

“What I meant to say was that I’m sorry. I think I was just so convinced that I’m not the effort of you trying to stay with me long-distance that I convinced myself the only thing possible was to end it. Which, y’know, of course it wasn’t. And I didn’t even say bye properly. You drove me to the airport and I said nothing. I was trying so hard not to cry, because I thought I needed that job since I’ve been working for it so long, but fuck the job. I mean, it was amazing, don’t get me wrong. Great pay and everything, the work itself wasn’t too bad. All in all, amazing. But I was fucking miserable without you. And I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve what I did to you. I fucking love you and Sarah. You’re my whole goddamn world, y’ know? Sundays weren’t the same without chocolate chip pancakes and Sarah telling me about something that happened at school first thing in the morning. I just-I get if you’ve found someone - and feel free to tell me to fuck off even if you haven’t - but I just can’t anymore, I can’t stay awake every night and cry in bed and feel like shit all the time and not tell you that I just miss you so much all the fucking time and I’m so-“

“Breathe.” One word, he’s cutting your rambling off with one word, and you’re fucking obeying it. You swallow a deep breath before opening your mouth again, before he cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. It’s not a soft kiss, but it isn’t forceful either. Desperate, like he needed to touch you again - the way you’ve needed to every single minute of every single day. Resting his forehead against yours, he’s smiling again. “Sonnet, huh? Would’a been a pretty shit one, I reckon. Lost your train a’thought like four times there, sweetheart.” Your stomach is doing somersaults at the fact that he’s abandoned the beer to cradle your head against his, at how he’s right there and he isn’t pushing you away. 

“Wasn’t right, what you did. But we can’t make the right decisions all the time. I know you thought you were doing us a favor, but thinking you weren’t worth the effort? Now that’s a fuckin’ lie, baby. Woulda learned all kinds of phone voodoo to talk to you, and it would have been worth every damn secon’ of my time if it saved you from whatever the hell New York has done to ya. Staying awake every night and cryin’ in bed?” He tuts disapprovingly, continuing: “Shoulda called me, honey. How’s this: let’s get into bed now, an’ I’ll make you those pancakes tomorrow mornin’, I promise. And we can figure it out from there, okay?” And it takes you a second to process the fact that everything’s okay, before you’re nodding and your face is scrunching into a sob. His hands are immediately cradling you on either cheek as he’s shushing you softly, moving closer to move you into his lap. You were right. No matter how far you went, nothing could replace this right here. This; Joel; Sarah. After a long, tiring, painful eight months, you were finally home.

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings @suckerforfanfic (sorry this tag wasn't working earlier)

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou hbo #the last of us fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #sarah miller #joel miller/you #no outbreak au

[cheeriecherrymain]

Your Room [Viktor x fem!Reader] [2/2]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Rating: E (18+) Chapter Content: fingering | Viktor has a filthy mouth | dom Viktor | p in v | dirty talk (kind of) | oral (fem receiving) | crying in a good way but not in a kinky way Proofread: lol no

[Part 1]

---

---

The walk back to Viktor’s room seems longer than it actually is.

Punctuated only by the soft click of your shoes, the two of you meander forward, hand in hand. The pad of his thumb is soft, affectionately stroking over the curve of your knuckles. 

Neither of you say anything: there’s not much to be said, anyways. You both know what’s going to happen the moment you’re behind closed doors. You both know that your relationship is going to change forever.

The thought alone sends little thrills coursing through your veins - not only the fact that you’re probably about to have the best sex in your entire life, but also the fact that you’ll get to keep him afterwards. The fact that you’ll get to take him on dates, and learn new things about him, and have all kinds of experiences that you otherwise wouldn’t.

His steps falter then, startling you out of your thoughts as the two of you come to a stop, smack in the middle of a wide, empty hallway.

“You okay?” you ask, concerned.

Strangely enough, though, he only tightens his hand around yours, giving you a gentle smile. “I was going to ask the same of you,” he admits. “You stopped breathing for a moment - I wanted to make sure you were…you know. Okay.”

You bite back a grin, and nudge him a little to make him walk again.

“I was just thinking,” you explain quietly, once you find your pace together. “I’m excited for tonight.”

You don’t miss the way the corner of his mouth quirks.

“But I’m also excited for tomorrow night. And the night after that. After the night after that. I’m looking forward to making a future with you - I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m glad you’ll be a part of it.”

The air hangs heavy between the two of you, so thick that you can almost feel it every time you draw a breath. Viktor has, much to your amusement, quickened his steps. He tugs you down the hall, possibly faster than you’ve ever seen him amble, and you’re unable to resist the delighted little giggle that bubbles past your lips.

—

His room is thankfully not too far.

It still takes forever for him to dig out his keys and fumble around with them, though. You almost expect him to drop them, with the way he haphazardly leafs around the ring, but he doesn’t. He all but shoves the door open once it’s unlocked, stepping aside to let you in.

The front hallway is remarkably narrow, but he appears to have thought ahead and left a light on that morning. You’re grateful, really - with the amount of clutter he’s got piled up along one wall, you’re certain that you would have tripped or broken something.

Either way, you don’t get much time to look around.

The door clicks shut behind you, and in an instant, Viktor’s hands are on your waist. Spinning you around so he can oh so sweetly press you against the open wall, bringing your lips together in a searing kiss.

He wastes no time reaching around to fiddle with the zipper on the back of your skirt, shoving the offending material away from your body. You briefly wonder how he even knows where all your buttons and clasps are located, but the more you think about it, the less surprised you are.

He’s always been detail-oriented. Why would this be any different?

You, on the other hand, have a more difficult time divesting him of his clothing. Not for the complicated design, or a ridiculous amount of ties and folds - rather, every time you try to remove something, he squirms around and drags you closer to his bedroom.

“Viktor…” you whine, when you finally arrive at your destination.

Your clothes have been discarded and dropped along your pathway, leaving you mostly bare to the slightly chilled air of his apartment. He, on the other hand, is still entirely dressed, much to your dismay.

You recline comfortably across his bed, shyly peeking up at him where he stands at the end, shamelessly leering at you. Worry wiggles in the back of your mind for a moment, wondering briefly if you looked alright, if he was pleased with what he saw.

Until he starts pulling at his own garments in earnest.

Gaze never leaving your body, he loosens his tie and tosses it aside. Pops the buttons of his vest apart, letting it fall off his shoulders. Unclips the cuffs of his shirt, and pulls it over his head.

You can see the way his face darkens as each article plops to the floor. Flushed the most delectable shade of pink, from the tops of his cheekbones out to the tips of his ears. Most notably, you can see the way he avoids meeting your eyes, despite the fact that he’s still looking at you.

You push yourself up, rising to your knees.

“C’mere,” you murmur, eagerly reaching towards him. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the usual bone-deep chill of his hands - dotted with little freckles and moles, speckled across the expanse of his pale flesh.

“You’re perfect,” you tell him honestly, before pulling him down into a kiss. Slower than your previous one, deeper and more insistent. His lips easily part when you nip at them, allowing you to slide your tongue hot against his - a soft groan tumbling out.

This time, when you move to the waist of his trousers, he doesn’t try to redirect or deter you. You can feel him tense slightly, but he ultimately allows you to remove the last of his clothes. You, of course, have always been efficient: you shove his slacks down alongside his underwear, keeping your grip on him steady while he kicks the pile aside.

And then you pull him forwards.

Entirely ungraceful, he tumbles onto the bed with you, allowing you to take advantage of his momentary loss of balance to flip him over onto his back. He fights you a little bit, snorts and giggles rising up between the two of you while you squirm around and bat at each other.

A squeal, erupting from you when he pinches the soft fat of your ass.

A debauched gasp, when you dig your nails into his hips.

Until you’re able to settle finally, dispelling some of the nervous tension that had accumulated on the walk over. Smiling warmly at each other, hopeful for the future you’ll be making together, excited about what adventures you might go on.

Excited for the rest of the evening.

You lean towards him and draw him into another kiss, slow and intimate. Your breath mingling together as you bring your bodies impossibly closer. You can feel where he presses against your tummy, his cock already hard and leaking with desire.

Never parting from him, you bring your hand down to wrap around him, reveling in the way his breath catches in his throat when you squeeze your fingers around velvety flesh. He’s thick, you think, your mind trailing back to earlier, when he’d been four fingers deep in your desperate cunt.

He’d told you that it would still be a tight squeeze, and god, you’re more than thrilled that he’d been telling the truth. 

“Fuck, you’re going to fill me up so good,” you sigh dreamily, parting your lips for the briefest moment. “If I didn’t want to tease you so much, I’d be begging you to fuck me right now.”

Since leaving the lab, he’d been calm. Easygoing and pliant, reciprocating your touches with his own tentative ones: a contradiction to how he’d treated you when he’d had half his hand inside you, whispering filth in your ear, promising you the most delicious things.

But now, as you murmur those same dirty little things to him?

It’s like a switch flips inside him.

He swiftly bullies you onto your back, all but ripping your panties down your legs, tossing them carelessly aside. Your bra follows suit, and then his mouth is on you - sucking little bruises into your skin, leaving behind the tender imprints of his teeth. You’re going to be feeling him for hours.

“I should fuck you,” he growls, rolling one of your nipples around before pinching hard. “You were so desperate earlier - I bet your sweet little cunt is still loose and wet from my fingers. I could just slide right in.”

As if to emphasize his point, he slides the blunt head of his cock through your folds, applying the barest hint of pressure when he catches on your hole. Teasing you, taunting you, not quite pushing hard enough as to sink in and give you what you want.

You whine impatiently, trying in vain to roll your hips, hoping that he might have mercy and fill you.

“I’m not going to,” he tells you, plainly. You open your mouth to protest, but he’s quick to shush you with an open-mouthed kiss, mostly tongue.

“I want to taste you first,” he hums, kissing a path down the column of your throat. “I want to fuck you with my tongue, and make sure you’re nice and open for me.”

From your neck, to your collarbone, to the center of your chest, he leaves a scalding wet trail. Pausing briefly to find his entertainment with your breasts, laving his tongue over one nipple before closing his lips around it to deliver a harsh suck. Giving attention to both of them, until they’re sore and puffy and drawn into stiff peaks.

Only once he’s satisfied does he continue his journey down your body, leaving more bites in his wake.

Even once he’s inches from your weeping pussy, he still teases you. Nipping and sucking at the insides of your thighs, your legs held open by his dextrous hands. His breath tickles the soft hairs littering your skin, making you squirm beneath his ministrations.

“Viktor, please,” you whimper, trailing your own hand down towards your drenched cunt, desperately searching for any kind of pleasure, even just to take the edge off.

As expected, he bats you away.

“Keep your hands by your head,” he orders lowly, glaring up at you with beautiful honeyed eyes. The familiar amber now almost totally eclipsed by the black of his pupils. “You’ll have your pleasure from me, or you’ll not have it at all - understood?”

You whine.

He smacks the inside of your thigh, not an inch from your dripping core.

“Understood?” he repeats, and this time, you nod.

After that, he gives you what you would truly describe as the most blissful kind of torture you’ve ever experience. Keeping you waiting, wanting, thirsting for move of him.

His tongue plunged deep into your hole, while he flicks his thumb over your puffy clit. Working fast designs onto your slick bud, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. Only to change his tactics on a whim, removing his mouth from you entirely so he can fuck three fingers into you without so much as a warning.

Crooking them perfectly within you to find that delicious little spot, sending a dull ache of pleasure through every nerve in your body. Relentless in his movements, he keeps his eyes on your face so he can watch you writhe and cry.

“Look at you,” he coos, pulling his fingers out right as you’re about to come. You whine in frustration at the loss of sensation, tightening your grip on the headboard, but he only grins up at your mercilessly.

“Pretty thing, getting all worked up like that,” slowly, almost tenderly, he spreads your pussy open, watching enthralled as you tremble and clench around nothing, so close to your orgasm and yet so painfully far. “As if I would let you come so soon. You can sob and beg and cry as much as you want to, you can make a mess: it doesn’t matter. You’ll come when I allow it.”

He flicks his tongue over your clit again, bemusement sparkling in his eyes when the smallest spatter of fluid squirts out of your cunt, dribbling down his chin. “Though,” he hums, “I might have to make you do that again.”

And just like that, he continues his beautiful torment.

Bringing you to the edge again and again, almost gleeful when you whine like he’d predicted, sobbing, begging, crying.

Until you’re unable to do much more than quiver at his touch, your voice hoarse and broken, throat dry. You don’t understand how he’s able to reduce you to such a state, tears tracked down your cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, eyes lidded and glazed over with desire.

You’re so dazed and out of it, you barely even notice the press if his lips on your tummy. Slowly, gently, kissing his way back up your body, leaving a pathway of warmth as he goes.

“Oh, milý,” he whispers, when he finally reaches your face. Littlering your cheeks with little smooches, his previously joyous expression falters slightly.

“I didn’t break you, did I?” he asks, the genuine concern obvious in his tone. “If it’s too much for you, we can stop for tonight - no questions asked. We can-”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, and immediately you begin squirming. A flurry of movement, gripping weakly at whatever parts of his body you can reach, all in an attempt to dissuade him from the idea.

“No, no no no,” you beg, your eyes welling up with fresh tears. “Please- please- I want to come- Viktor I’ve been good, I’ve been good for you-”

“Shhh,” he soothes, his hand finding your jaw so he can guide you into a sweet kiss. “You’ve been so good for me, letting me have my fun with your perfect cunt, giving me whatever I so desire. You didn’t even come, just as I told you to.”

He grips your hip and rolls you onto your side, where you both lay facing each other. His expression infinitely softer than it had been, all the warmth and affection he feels for you seeping forth from him, comforting you with each delicate press of his fingers.

“Would you take me now, milý?” he asks quietly, hooking a hand behind your knee so he can hike your leg up over his hip. “Would you let me fill you up? With my cock, with my come?”

You sniffle wetly, overwhelmed from the sudden onslaught of emotion. But still, you muster a nod. 

“Please,” you whimper.

Your lips meet again, slow and unhurried as you mesh together, parting and gasping and crying out, tongues sliding against each other.

The dull pressure of his cock nudging your entrance, already slick with your wetness.

And then, slowly.

Slowly,

Slowly,

He spreads you open. His blunt head sliding into you, inch by inch, deeper and deeper, impossibly deep, you’ve never felt so full in your entire life. The stretch burns so perfectly, despite the way he’d fucked you with his fingers, nothing could have truly prepared you for the all-encompassing feeling of him finally sheathing himself within you.

The two of you stay like that for several moments, wrapped up tightly in one another, your breaths catching in your throats and mingling. His voice, as cracked and debauched as yours is, rumbling forth from his throat.

“You’re incredible,” he groans, his brows pulling together as he fights to not lose himself in the sensations. “Perfect- můj krásný miláčku.”

Once he starts fucking you, his pace is relentless. 

His thrusts are short and quick, just barely pulling out of your ruined cunt before fucking hard back in, finding a rhythm in mere moments, holding you close while he uses your drenched hole.

You can tell he’s lost to the pleasure, his movements sloppy and bordering on unhinged, though no less delectable - and after everything he’s put you through, it doesn’t take much for your orgasm to approach once again. Every muscle in his body is strung taut, holding you so close, keeping your sweat-slicked foreheads pressed together.

“I can feel you clenching around me,” he huffs, his pace never faltering. “You squeeze around me so good - I never imagined you’d feel like this. All my nights alone in the lab couldn’t compare to how you feel- fuck!”

In his desperation to see you come, he manages to slip a hand between your bodies, to rub fast little shapes against your oversensitive and swollen clit. You practically wail the moment he makes contact, digging your nails into his skin.

“Come for me,” he demands, begs. “Come for me, and I’ll fill you up-”

Your breath catches in your throat.

And your orgasm crests over you. White-hot and violent, sending tremors down each of your limbs as the world around you is drowned out and all you can feel is Viktor. 

Inside you.

His breath, tickling your face.

His hips, stilling against you.

Filling you, hot.

Impossibly full, dripping out of you.

Time is lost to you, with nothing but the flutter of your heart to alert you to the passing minutes. You’re boneless, untethered, floating aimlessly in an unknown place of unimaginable bliss.

Until slowly, tenderly, lovingly, you’re brought back to yourself.

The warmth of a damp cloth, cleaning you up, followed by another to softly pat you dry. The feeling of lips, gentle against your skin, and the pads of fingers, drawing patterns over your sides. Leaving goosebumps behind.

You take a deep breath.

Sigh in contentment.

Open your eyes.

And there is Viktor, staring at you with the utmost affection, and dare you say, love. His cheek smushed into a pillow, he watches you as he touches you, innocently, waiting patiently while you gather your wits and come back to him.

“Are you well?” he wonders, bringing a hand up to your face, stroking his thumb over the curve of your cheek.

You huff a quiet laugh.

“I think I love you, Viktor.”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #the ace writes naughty stuff #i hope you guys enjoy this

[darling-i-read-it]

Bloody Lip

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.1k 

Warnings: injuries, drugs, eddie is beat up :(

Author’s Note: sweet sweet boy. Sweet boy. 

Requested: by anon, Maya may I please request a devastating eddie fic 💔 Eddie making some type of deal but the guys buying didn't want to pay so they beat the crap outta dear Eddie. Reader is having a meltdown trying to tend to his injuries and help him to the point where she's apologising for crying and lightly telling him off for being so stupid and sweet insecure Eddie says i know we're friends and you care about me but why do you care this much I'm not worth getting upset over and she's like woah wtf never say that again and also in the heat of the moment confesses that she's in love with him 

(Injured insecure Eddie though is so 😢)

Summary: the request! 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

He was late. He was supposed to be back at the trailer at 7. Usually he was a little bit late but at this point the clock on the wall was just taunting you. 7:45 was inching closer to 8. Eddie was never this late. If he were, he would call. But the phone hadn’t rung and the clock just kept ticking. You stood up, scratching the back of your neck, wondering if you should go look for him. 

He had been going to deal. You knew that. You told him it was dangerous and he told you he was strong and then you let it go. You always let it go. Now that he wasn’t here you were starting to regret just letting it go. 

You opened up the trailer door just to be met with Eddie staring up at you. 

You yelped, almost falling over at how much he had startled you. You grabbed the door, breathing heavily. 

“Sorry I’m late dollface,” he whispered. 

You wrapped your arms around him and he winced but you barely noticed past the elation of him being alive. 

After the shock of him actually being there had passed, you were able to see him more clearly. His eye was swollen, cheek red, cuts slashing up his face, and that's the stuff you could see. His shirt was ripped. His leather jacket no longer had a zipper. You breathed out sharply, surprised to see him like this. 

“What…” 

“The jocks. You know that Jason guy?” You nodded. “Didn’t wanna pay.” You frowned heavily, gently raising your hand to touch the swells on his cheek. 

“Eddie,” you whispered. He took the step up into the trailer and toppled over. You knelt beside him. You could feel the emotions bubbling up inside of you. You thought he was dead and you were glad to see he wasn’t. This wasn’t much better though. You grabbed his elbow, helping him up. “Oh my god I thought you were dead!” 

“I feel like it,” he grunted. He was holding his side. “I think my leg is broken.” 

“The couch.” You had him lean on you as he limped his way to the couch. He sat down gingerly, feeling the aches and pains all up his body. He could feel it down his spine and around his joints. He hadn’t realized how badly everything hurt until he had a moment to catch his breath. “I’m getting the first aid kit.” 

You breathed through your nose, trying to keep your feelings under control. You weren’t sure what was making your eyes tear up like they were. Eddie was fine. He was alive. He was on the couch. 

It was the prospect that someone did this to him on purpose. They wanted him dead. 

You grabbed the kit and walked back to him. 

“Take off your jacket,” you whispered, kneeling beside him. 

“Are you crying?” he asked as you helped him out of his clothes. You shook your head, looking down on purpose. There was blood seeping through his pants leg. 

“No,” you said. You looked up at him so that you could see his face. You grabbed some gauze and bandages with shaky hands. 

“You are crying.” He leaned forward, trying not to hurt anything else so that he could see you better. “Stop that. I’m not worth all that. It’s just a couple broken bones and cut lips.” He made a big show of his lip. It was the worst of his injuries. 

Your eyes went wide and a couple tears finally escaped your eyes while your guard was done. 

“Eddie Munson you are worth my tears you idiot,” you said, not sure why you were going for the aggressive approach. You kind of felt like it was the only way he would actually hear you. “I can’t believe they did this to you. If you weren’t selling drugs I would take you to the police right now. I want to beat them up myself and I know I can’t. I can’t even try. But you’re my Eddie Munson and they hurt you so they hurt me and I’m crying about it.” Your body was stiff. “You could've seriously seriously hurt Eds and I wouldn't have been there to stop them. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do when the man I love is out there getting hurt and I’m hanging around here, waiting for him to come back!” 

There was a heavy silence in the air. 

Shit

“The man you love?” 

“You could’ve died,” you said, desperately trying to cover your slip. 

“You love me?” His voice was very quiet. It almost wasn’t audible at all. Just the break in his voice, in the vowels. 

“Yes,” you whispered, almost as quietly. “Is that…is that okay?” 

“I’m suddenly feeling much better. I think maybe I could dance. I could play my guitar. I could beat up Jason and his buddies without a second thought,” he said, a toothy grin on his face. You chuckled, nervously. 

“Eddie-”

“I know my lip is cut and I might taste like blood but can I kiss-” You didn’t let him finish. The kiss was gentle and oddly perfect. He did taste a bit like copper but you barely noticed. 

Because he was alive. He would live. And he loved you. 

-

Stranger Things Tag List: @dpaccione, @karasong @elisaa-shelby @purple-flamingo @trinswhimsys @valentina-luvs-u @demigirl-with-problems @chaotic-fangirl-blog @mads-weasley @alexxavicry @secret-obsessions-21-blog @mystic-writings @plumes-de-nuit @linkxneptune

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things imagines

[darlingshane]

sweet revenge

Shane Walsh x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2k

Summary: You and Shane sleep together to get back at your respective exes.

Content/Warnings: explicit, smut, car sex, revenge fuck, angst.

A/N: I made this for @bernthirst-events using the prompt – revenge fuck. It's a little different from what I usually write, but I hope you like it.

– Read below or at AO3.

Bad choices don't necessarily make you a bad person as long as those choices don't hurt other people, you’ve always believed.

What you’re about to do might take you to cross that hypothetical line that kept you from considering yourself a bad person. But after all the events that led you to this point, you don’t give a flying fuck. You've been hurt too often by other people's choices that it's your turn to make something so incredibly reckless that will royally piss some people off… Like sleeping with Shane Walsh.

“Are you completely sure you wanna do this?”

“Are you?”

You ask each other, half naked, in the back of his cruiser before proceeding any further with your plan.

Too hot and bothered to back out now, with no regrets, you nod and seize his mouth as he opens his buckle and zipper to seal the deal you made about getting back at your respective duplicitous exes.

It all started a few weeks ago when you caught Shane's girlfriend cheating on him with your ex-boyfriend. She wasn't just his girlfriend, but she was also one of your best friends, in fact. Not only did she manage to break Shane's heart, but she violated an unspoken friendship code and the common sense of not hooking up with your friend's in the process.

Regardless of you and your ex being broken up before that day, – discovering their filthy lie was a low blow that still hurts like hell.

Blinded by rage, after being witness to that moment of indiscretion, you picked up the phone, called Shane, and spared no detail about what just had happened. Someone had to, cause that hag wasn’t going to do it, and he deserved to know. Admittedly, you were never Shane's biggest fan to begin with, but you felt sorry for him. For what you knew, he was completely in love with your friend, and he was just something to toy with cause she had nothing better to do. That’s how she always treated guys, and up until that day, you never said anything cause you had your own stuff to deal with, and you were never the one to stick your nose where it didn’t belong, but it was about time for her to get a taste of her own medicine.

A few days later, you found out that Shane had beat the crap out of your ex. The deputy was arrested and released the day after, and indefinitely suspended from the department.

Two weeks after his arrest, you stumbled upon him at the grocery store in the evening, and he looked miserable trying to pick up between the amount of cereal boxes along the aisle.

“I like Cocoa Puffs,” you pointed at the box in one of the lower shelves to break the ice.

He sighed and glanced at you, “yeah, I like those too. I was just in the mood for something else… any suggestions?”

“Hm, cinnamon toast is my second favorite.”

He considered it for a second before reaching and grabbing a box of those per your suggestion. Then you both continued shopping on your own.

Later, you saw him at the parking lot after loading your groceries in your car.

“Hey,” you stopped by his truck while he put his bags on the flatbed, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Why?” he scoffed, “wasn’t your fault, darlin’. You didn’t sleep with her, didn’t you?”

“No, but it wasn’t my place to tell.”

“Maybe it wasn’t, but I’m glad you did.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know,” his head sank into his shoulders quickly, “I guess cause you were hurt by it too, and you went straight to the cold, hard facts. That took guts.”

“I was a little harsh.”

“You weren’t. I always thought you were a pushover, y’know? But you proved me wrong.”

“Ouch. I always thought you were an asshole,” you quipped back, leaning against his car.

“Sometimes I am, but I’d never cheat on anyone,” he admitted, honestly. “Look, it’s no secret that I like sleeping around, but when I’m in a relationship– I’m a hundred percent in.”

“Are you guys getting back together?”

He scoffed, and gave it a thought, “would you consider getting back with your ex after that?”

You shook your head.

“I didn't think so. Me neither. I'm done with her. She's like the fucking antichrist.”

“It suits her,” you laughed softly at his chosen nickname.

“You should've heard the things she said about you.”

“Save it, I don't need to know,” you paused. “Are you gonna be okay with your job and all?”

“Yeah,” he ran a hand over his hair, “I think I will.”

After parting that evening, you started texting from time to time. You were never that close, but something clicked that day between you two in that little exchange that led you to this particular night when you bumped into the other once more.

You were hanging with a couple of friends after work at your local bar when the bartender brought you a complimentary beer from a guy sitting at the counter. You glanced over your shoulder and saw the deputy back in his uniform, tilting his beer bottle in your direction. You beckoned him, and he joined your little group.

Quickly, you started talking and joking about getting back at both your exes somehow. You were both still bitter about it, and of course it kept coming up in all your conversations.

At first, you thought it was a joke when Shane suggested you should sleep together to even things out.

An eye for an eye and all – he said.

You and Shane, sleeping together? It was the most absurd idea someone’s ever had. It made you burst into laughter initially; but as the night progressed, it made more sense. It’s a fitting punishment for a treacherous crime, you deemed.

Halfway into making up your mind, you glanced at Shane once more when he strutted out of the bathroom with his uniform shirt half unbuttoned, showing a black tee underneath well hugged around his chest. To be honest, he isn’t completely gross physically. You've always found him hot. It’s the way he sometimes talks that has kept you from seeing that he’s actually sweet as well.

Once he got back to the table, you bit your lower lip and tilted your head in the direction of the door, conveying silently with just one look – I need to be railed by you, right now. I don’t care if it’s right or wrong.

He quickly grasped it and took your hand as he licked the corner of your mouth before guiding you out towards the car.

You couldn't blame it on the alcohol because you barely took a couple of sips of your beer. It was the dangerous determination in Shane's eyes, boring nothing but dark lust and vengeance, that convinced you. You’ve never seen him like that, and you're still not sure if it’s all about revenge or that he actually likes you. You wouldn't hold it against him if it was a bit of both, cause that’s exactly how you feel right now in this unrehearsed dance of ripping each other’s clothes, clawing each other’s skin, and mauling each other’s mouth in the confined space of the backseat of the cruiser, parked on the side of the road, away from prying eyes.

It’s thrilling to have that rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, knowing that you’re doing something so wrong, but so rightfully earned, and not giving a damn about it.

A whole new world opens right in front of your eyes, and right between your legs when you stop kissing him to sink onto his cock for the first time. You shudder at how big he feels once he’s fully sheathed inside your slickness. He’s hard as rock and big enough to fill and stretch your walls a little more than you're used to.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he can barely get those words out, as your hips slowly wave back and forth.

As you get used to the generous size of his erection filling you up to the hilt, he presses his parted lips against yours.

Unexpectedly, you both thrive and savor every second of it as you explore and seek that ultimate pleasure that comes from your bodies tangled together.

“God, you feel so good,” you purr on his lips, hands clutched to his neck; having his large palms holding your ass, aiding your moves as you switch to bouncing uncontrollably on his lap.

“Not as good as you, darlin’,” he groans, breathlessly, “you’re so fucking wet.”

Then, his tongue juts out and traces the shape of your mouth before devouring your lips like a maniac, stealing your moans and hums. If you’re desperate, he’s viciously focused on sucking the life out of you with great vehemence. His delicious kisses and grunts muddle your mind, and you can barely keep your thoughts straight as you inch closer to that aching point where your legs strain to keep going.

“Fuck, sweetheart, just a little more,” he pants, barely pulling away from your lips, “please, please, keep going for me.”

Holding on tight to him, you exert yourself a little longer as your hips roll with reckless abandon until that bomb made out of pure pleasure, expanding at your core, explodes. Your body shivers and your mind turns to mush, gladly overtaken by a wave of electric joy that awakens every cell of your body from head to toe. And right after you come, the wild pressure of your opening contracting around him has Shane spurting his seed inside you in a matter of seconds.

To be completely honest, there was never anything greater between your legs than Shane Walsh, you come to realize. As uncomfortable as the car is, it’s barely a nuisance below how amazing that orgasm is. How your once-friend would ever give that up is beyond you.

Slowly coming back to your senses, you sweetly smile, noticing that your forehead is pressed to Shane’s shoulder as his chest rises and falls under your palms.

There isn’t a sliver of guilt or shame after you’re done and put your clothes back on. The only thing that’s new is a desire of not wanting this night to be over, so when the deputy drives you home, you invite him for a second round.

“Too bad they’ll never know what we did,” you express, relaxing on top of Shane’s broad chest, with your hand under your chin, like it was the most casual thing you’ve ever done since you met him.

“But we do,” he smiles tiredly, “did it make you feel better?”

“Uh-hm. That was the point, right? Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I do,” his fingers brush your cheek, pulling you for a chaste kiss before shifting on the bed and having you on your back against the mattress as he slithers down your body, pushing your knees apart to have a little taste of you. You fix a pillow under your head as the adventurous tip of his tongue traces every inch of your sex, slowly. His arms curl around your thighs, as you weave your fingers in his curls, quietly enjoying the mind-blowing attention of the tip of his tongue when it circles your clit. He teases it, flicks it, and licks it before allowing his lips to wrap around it. Lazily sucking that bundle of nerves, he delivers a pleasant buzz that runs all over your body, and earns himself a new symphony of hums, moans, and curses at his name.

As your mind reaches cloud nine for a third time, the delicious pressure of his lips changes, sucking harder and harder, until you’re met with a calming relief once the orgasm hits.

Shane climbs back up to the head of the bed and presses his slick-covered lips against yours, his tongue slipping past your lips, so you can have a taste of yourself, reminding you that payback never tasted sweeter.

#bernthirstpalooza #shane walsh #shane walsh x reader #twd #twd fanfiction #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #the walking dead #darlingwrites