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harryslittlefreakk · 8 days

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favourite crime

summary: a chance meeting between y/n and her professor leads to a dare… which leads to a forbidden affair neither of them will forget

wordcount: 8k!!!! can you even believe it!!

warnings: smut (exhibitionism, foreplay) , inappropriate relationship (lol)

a/n: i love professorry & you guys voted for this one so i hope i’ve done him justice! this was going to be a one shot but i wrote so much more than i planned lol so it will be a mini series. please let me know if you enjoy <3

my masterlist and taglist can be found here 🥰

“I’ll give you £50 if you go over there.”

“Not a chance, Courtney. I’m not sacrificing my education for £50.”

“I’ll buy your drinks for the rest of the year then.”

You wrapped your hands around your glass, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. Your eyes had been glued to the back of your professor’s head since he arrived, jitters coursing through your body. He’d stayed frozen at the bar the entire time, a neat whiskey in one hand and his nose deep in a book.

“He’s so fucking sexy,” you muttered, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you watched the way his tongue jutted out just slightly, wetting his finger so he could turn the page. “Alright, wish me luck,” you beamed at your friend, sliding out of the booth.

You wove through the crowd around the bar, making sure to stay out of Harry’s sight. Your voice was barely audible as you ordered two drinks, a spicy marg for you and a neat whiskey for him. Even the roar of music and chatter was dimmed as your heart pounded in your ears, still watching Harry like a hawk in case he was suddenly joined by a girlfriend.

The coast was clear when you got the drinks, the barstool next to him still invitingly empty. You turned back to your table, pulling a mock nervous grimace as you held the drinks up in the air. After a final check for anyone heading towards Harry, you decided to make your move.

“What would a handsome young man like you be doing here alone?” you teased, slipping into the seat next to Harry as you set down a new drink in front of him. His eyes lingered on his book for a second before looking over at you, an expectant smirk quickly replaced by a frown.

“Miss y/l/n,” was all he managed to say, his mouth drying up as he scanned your body, green eyes lingering just a second too long when they met your cleavage.

“Professor Styles,” you replied, tapping the rim of your glass against his. “Cheers.”

“It’s wildly inappropriate to buy your professor a drink,” he told you, voice stern but a small smile playing on his lips.

You turned away from him, craning your neck to look around the bar. His eyes followed yours, brows knitted when you eventually looked back at him with a satisfied grin. “Just checking. No university higher ups here, so you’re free to act inappropriately.”

“Thank you for the drink,” Harry smiled, folding over a corner of the page he was reading before reluctantly closing the book.

You snatched it from his grasp, a mocking gasp falling from your lips as you flicked through the tattered book. Almost every page was dog-eared, the spine broken and sellotaped back together, half the book bent out of shape from water damage. “You’re an English teacher. And you treat your books this way?”

He chuckled, stretching out an open hand to silently ask for his book back. You clutched it close to your chest, hands splayed across the book to protect it from his touch. “You can’t be trusted with it anymore.”

“This is so inappropriate,” Harry muttered, covering his smirk with a tanned hand as he shook his head. Every second you spent at his side felt like a step closer to unemployment, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn you away. After all, you were in a bar out of town, and the likelihood of anyone seeing you was low.

You grabbed a napkin while he mused, pulling him out of his thoughts when you shoved a hand into the pocket of his slacks. Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise as you pulled out a pen, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He couldn't help the rush of adrenaline he felt at your touch, sparks tingling where your fingers had brushed against his thigh, the silk lining of his pocket suddenly warm.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure as he leaned one elbow against the bar. "I think it's time you head back," he said, his husky voice tinged with a mix of amusement and apprehension. The tension between you was palpable, and he knew he needed to put some distance between you before things went too far.

You scribbled something on the napkin, folding it in half and slotting it into Harry’s book, taking time to lovingly smooth out the crease he had folded into it before handing it back to him.

“Nice seeing you, Professor,” you winked, downing the remainder of your cocktail and setting the glass down next to his book before making your way back over to your table.

Harry watched as you sauntered back, your hips swaying in time with the music. There was an air of danger about you that lingered just out of his reach, intrigue creeping through his bones. He’d noticed your natural charm from the day you joined his class, the way you were a friend to everyone who gave you as much as a glance, and an enemy only to the girls who cared more for their looks than their popularity. You’d always submitted good papers, asked important questions, and listened when he asked you to stop your incessant chatting to the people around you. But he’d never noticed this side of you, and now that he had, he didn’t think he could go without it.

With a final glance over in your direction, Harry finished his whiskey and stalked out of the bar, desperate to cool off before he got carried away with the idea of you.

By the time you looked over at him, he was gone, and your friend was interrogating you about what had happened.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, drawing on your greatest acting skills to feign a pout.

“I don’t buy that for a second,” Courtney poked, grinning excitedly as your frown morphed into a smirk.

“You can’t tell anyone, I mean it.”

“Swear on my life.”

“I gave him my number,” you grinned, unable to keep your cool for even a minute.

Courtney gasped, banging her hand down on the table. “You didn’t!”

“I did. But I don’t think he’ll use it,” you laughed, silently hoping that he would.

—

You’d checked your phone the entire way home, waiting for a text that might never come. But the second you climbed into bed, reluctantly accepting your love affair had died a premature death, your phone let out the most glorious little ding it ever would.

unknown number: did you get home safe?

You thrashed around the bed for a second, jaw snapping so low it could have smacked against the floor. You read and reread the message, eyes wandering over every letter.

y/n: safe and alone if that’s what you’re asking

You watched as the little white dots appeared and disappeared, over and over again, until they finally vanished for good.

But you’d already taken it further than you’d ever planned to, so you added Harry’s number to your contacts, and called him.

He answered after a few rings, his voice low and husky when he finally spoke. “You shouldn’t be calling me.”

“And you shouldn’t be answering,” you teased, giddy at the realisation that you were now having a late night phone call with the hottest man on the planet.

“How else am I going to tell you how inappropriate this is?” Harry sighed, though you could hear the reluctant amusement lacing his words.

You rolled onto your front, grinning at your phone like a love drunk teenager. “You can tell me to back off if you really want,” you offered, fingers crossing in a desperate plea for him to do the exact opposite.

He stayed silent for a minute, the cogs almost audible as he weighed up the pros and cons. “It’s already gone this far,” he murmured eventually. “Thank you, by the way. For the drink and the bookmark.”

You bit down on your lip in a desperate attempt to control your grin from splitting your face clean in half. “That’s two gifts from me now, what do I get from you?”

“You get to keep your education and not be reported to every higher up there is,” Harry laughed.

“And what else?” With every word you felt like you were falling deeper into cuckoo land. It was so out of character for you, never the one to blindly make your move on a man. And not just a man, the professor you’d harboured a juvenile crush on for the entire academic year.

“Nothing else. You’re bad news,” Harry replied. You pictured him sitting with his phone in hand, a stern frown and warm smirk juxtaposed on his chiseled face.

“Am I really?”

“Definitely.” Even the sound of his voice had you weak at the knees. You’d never make it through tomorrow’s lecture, melted to a puddle in your seat within five minutes.

“Maybe you should delete this number then.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve saved it,” Harry replied, his turn to tease now.

“Well then what are you worried about? There’s no evidence of your crime,” you mocked.

“Don’t call it a crime.”

“Can I at least be your favourite crime?”

Harry sighed again, a real exasperated sigh this time. Your grin fell as he stumbled over what to say, the potential repercussions of your chase suddenly weighing heavy on you both. “Look, I’ll be honest with you here y/n, I don’t know what I’m doing,” Harry confessed, his voice soft as he spoke.

“Can we not just worry about it later?” It was a plead you hoped the both of you would take notice of.

“Not when my career hangs in the balance.” He went quiet again, only shallow breaths and the drumming of his fingers audible from the other end of the line. “Meet me in my office at the end of the day tomorrow,” he finally muttered. “And not a word of this to anyone.”

“Goodnight, professor,” you smiled, heart pounding so violently you feared it could burst through your chest as you ended the call.

Either he wasn’t done with you yet, or he was really done. And if the tone of his voice and the reluctance that laced it gave you any clues, you had your money (and hopes) on the former.

—

You spent the whole morning in a daze, pulling your phone out every few minutes to check your message history in case you’d made the whole thing up. It felt like a bizarre fever dream, an alternate reality you’d stumbled into. Every time you saw the read the text from Harry your heart skipped a beat, doing nothing to calm you. Whatever he wanted to see you for was eating away at you, your fate resting in his hands. You didn’t even notice the campus barista calling your name, over and over again as your head and your heart argued loudly in your mind.

When you finally snapped back to reality, grabbing your coffee with a stream of apologies tumbling from your lips, you saw Harry watching you, an amused smirk curling the corners of his mouth.

You winked at him as you left the cafe, unnoticeable to anyone but him, but just enough to make him uncomfortable.

“He looks good today,” Courtney mused, pushing open the lecture hall door and leading you towards the nearest empty seats. They were too near the front for your liking, especially today, but at least Harry couldn’t miss you.

“How do I look?” you asked Courtney, glancing down at your outfit. You’d tried to be cute, in case that swayed him towards fulfilling your dirtiest desires, but not too over the top. You weren’t going to force him into bed if that isn’t where he wanted to end up with you.

“Like the little slut you are,” she teased, grinning as you rolled your eyes.

“He told me to go to his office at the end of the day. What if I get there and he’s sitting with the head waiting to grass me up?”

“Then you can blame me,” Courtney smiled, always ready to shoulder your academic and personal failures.

“What if he’s not?”

“Then you can thank me.”

You rested your chin in your hands, eyes glued to the head of whoever was sat in front of you as you grumbled and groaned. You were too busy freaking out to notice Harry coming in, his eyes continually flicking to you as he set up the projector.

“I really want him,” you groaned, just loud enough for the words to reach Harry’s ear, a tiny blush creeping up his cheeks as he read your lips.

“Silence, please,” he called out, eyes still locked on yours with his lips curled into a barely noticeable smirk.

He kept his eyes trained on you the entire class, not even attempting to look away whenever you caught him staring. If you were crazy, you’d notice that he’d paid a little more attention to his appearance that day. His brown curls were pushed back with a little gel, his ringed fingers falling to his side every time he reached up to brush a hand through his hair. He’d ditched the v-neck sweater for a crisp white shirt, hints of tattoos you didn’t know he had poking through the material.

You didn’t even notice it was the end of the day until your subconscious carried you out of the crowd of students heading for the exit, and you found yourself knocking on Harry’s door.

He called you in, straightening up as you pushed open the door and looked around expectantly. The university higher ups weren’t there to escort you off campus immediately, and you felt a little weight fall off your shoulders.

His office was quaint, littered with books and notes. Harry sat behind a tower of papers, an old fashioned table lamp illuminating his desk in warm orange hues. He waited for you to sit down in front of him, grinning as he handed you an uncapped pen. “I thought you could help me with some marking since you’re so desperate to harass me outside of lessons,” he smirked, nodding to the stack of papers.

“Any excuse to spend time with me,” you muttered, grinning as you dropped your bag down next to you. Harry handed half of his pile to you, and you work silently for a while, your mind running a million miles an hour. He hadn’t shut you down, hadn’t made any effort to tell you to stop. And he found a way for you to spend more one on one time together.

Harry cleared his throat suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Need to ask you something,” he murmured, setting his pen down on top of the paper he was working on.

You looked up at him silently, brows knitted and pouted lips falling open as you waited for him to continue. He was shifty, eyes squinted as if he didn’t want the words to come out. “You’re not trying to get something, are you?” he paused, tensing up in his seat. “Like… I don’t know. ‘Let me get some dirt so i can blackmail my professor for good grades.’”

His mouth hung open as he waited for you to reply, watching you go from confusion, to anger, to hurt in the time it took you to comprehend what he said.

You rubbed a hand over your face, trying to maintain your composure as you took in the weight of his words. “If that’s what you think then-”

You stood up, pulling your bag onto your shoulder. Harry jumped to his feet, circling around his desk as he read the hurt in your eyes. “It’s not, I have to ask-”

He reached out, grabbing a hold of your sleeve as you turned to walk away. Part of your brain willed you to stay, to not cause a scene and show him the immaturity that came with being tangled up with a younger woman. But you couldn’t stay there, not with him and his absurd view of you.

You pulled out of his grip, shrugging your sleeve back into place. “That’s not who I am,” you murmured, heading for the door as quickly as your shaky legs would take you. You left Harry standing there dumbfounded, face screwed up as you tried to make sense of him.

“Come on, please. Just one little boogie,” you pleaded with Courtney, already rifling through her wardrobe for something to wear. You’d promised each other to slow down with the nights out this year, try and use your evenings for important things like studying, or swiping through each other’s Tinders. But you were still a little pissed off, just enough that you required a best friend boogie to shake it off.

“Fine.” Courtney rolled her eyes, dragging her body off the bed to get changed.

The bar was busy when you got there, as noisy and as crowded as it was on the weekends. You groaned as you sunk into your seat at a corner booth, too irritated to deal with handsy men and having to shout about your problems over loud music.

unknown number: are you home?

Your phone lit up as you pulled it out your bag, a scowl taking over your features as your eyes gazed over the words.

unknown number: ?

“Who’s that?” Courtney asked, searching your frown for answers as you turned your phone face down on the table.

“Who do you think?”

“What the hell happened in his office?”

“Nothing, seriously nothing. He asked me if I’m trying to get dirt on him. So I can get better fucking grades.”

“It’s a valid question,” Courtney shrugged.

You groaned, holding your head in your hands. “I know it is. I’m just offended that he thinks I’m that kind of girl,” you explained.

“I’m sure he doesn’t. But if anything were to happen, there’s more for him to lose.”

“Well I don’t think I’d be finishing my education anywhere near here if it ever got out.”

“No, you’d be the town whore. Young women would come from all over the world, desperately seeking advice from their hero. Professors would fear even looking you in the eye,” Courtney teased, well prepared for your dramatics.

“You’re making me regret it before it’s even begun.”

“Stop pursuing him then.”

“You’re the one who dared me in the first place!”

Courtney patted your arm fondly, swilling the last of her drink around the walls of the glass. “While you’re brilliant company, I’d rather have a full glass while I talk to you. Same again?”

You picked up your phone hesitantly, as if it would detect your fear and automatically message Harry. He was too confusing, messing with your head already despite having spent less than an hour with him. You didn’t want messy, but somehow you needed him.

You threw your head in your hands, groaning as you peeled through your fingers. Courtney was taking too long, and naturally your eyes found her twirling her hair and grinning in the direction of the man with his arm around her waist.

He was cute, the exact kind of beachy blonde man you knew would leave Courtney in love after five minutes. She turned to look back at you with wide eyes, her excitement palpable even through the crowds between you.

You gave her a thumbs up, smile only faltering when you spotted a familiar face behind Courtney, the same brown curls that seemed to haunt your every move. Harry looked up from his phone at just the right moment to catch you staring. Busted. His warm gaze met your frosty glare, his cheeks tinged pink as his eyes focused on you.

You couldn’t exactly continue to ignore his texts now, especially with your phone quite clearly placed in front of you, so you broke eye contact, glancing down to type out a text to Harry.

y/n: no, busy riding the university head at the minute. thought i’d do go for the big dog 🤷🏻‍♀️

unknown number: come outside .

You watched as Harry slipped out of his booth, stalking towards the entrance. And like a little lap dog, you followed, eager to know what he had to say.

You slipped an arm around Courtney’s waist as you passed her, whispering in her ear about getting some fresh air. She nodded, but her eyes were glazed over, too deeply interested in this man to really hear what you said.

Harry was leaning against the wall outside when you reached him, head turned upwards towards the late evening skies. You stood next to him, back pressed against the brick with your eyes resting on him. Scanning over his features like it was the first and last time you’d ever see his face. The little mark of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, curls in tatters after a full day of running his hands through them every five minutes. He was attractive from the second you first set eyes on him, but most of his pull was in his personality. You didn’t know much of him, but what you did know was charming. He always told a stupid dad joke at the start of class to draw everyone in, his feedback was always positive even on the worst essays. No one ever felt stupid or less than around Harry, he made that his mission. And yet somehow now you felt like the most ridiculous little girl, chasing after someone she can’t have just for any benefits it might bring.

Harry had turned to face you at some point during your musing, silently watching your features soften and then change, moulding into different emotions as the cogs turned in your mind.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he started, shifting his body slightly as you looked back out onto the street.

“Then you shouldn’t have asked an offensive question.”

You knew you were showing your age, only aiding his perception of you, but you couldn’t help acting petty for a minute. You weren’t the adult in this situation, not the one who needed to be mature.

“I’m sorry. I just needed to know your intentions before-”

“You had every right to ask.”

Harry frowned, mouth opening in preparation to disagree with you before your rambling cut him off.

“No, you did. A lot more is at stake for you, I should’ve thought about that before I- I didn’t think you’d accept the drink, but you did, so I pushed, I was-”

“Testing the boundaries,” Harry finished for you.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t think we’ve hit them yet,” Harry mumbled, pulling his gaze away from you. You kept making him shy, painting an uncomfortable blush upon his skin, trailing goosebumps down his back. He was supposed to have the power here, yet he felt completely surrendered to you.

“Do you still want me to help you with marking?”

“If you want to. Was actually really helpful for me today.”

Your phone started buzzing in your hand, a stream of texts flashing up on the screen. “Courtney says she wants to go home with her new boyfriend, he has a roommate who can ‘have’ me,” you told Harry, face screwing up as you read the last words.

“That sounds nice,” he chuckled dryly, glancing down at his watch.

“Sounds horrific, no thank you. Haven’t even had my boogie yet,” you groaned, quickly tapping a similar yet softer message to Courtney.

Harry turned on his heel, stalking back towards the entrance of the bar as you dawdled behind him, eyes still glued to your phone screen.

“Where are we going?” you asked, following him to his table. Courtney was leaned against it, the new drink she’d meant to bring you long forgotten next to her. Her new lover was attached to her like a conjoined twin, his lips hitting places you’d dreamed of finding Harry’s. “Your table’s been taken over,” you mumbled, watching as Harry interrupted the snogging session with a firm tap on the back of the beachy blonde’s head.

“Y/n, Josh. Josh, y/n,” Harry beamed, inwardly cringing at having to explain his connection to you and Courtney.

You shot her a puzzled look, mouth hanging open as you looked between the three of them standing across from you. Courtney’s face mirrored yours, smile morphing into a smug smirk as she realised. “He’s your roommate?” she asked Josh, thumb pointing towards Harry.

“Yeah. How do you-?”

“Story for another time mate,” Harry laughed, patting down his pockets to check he had everything before leading you out of the bar.

—

“Did you plan this?” you laughed, cocking your head in mock suspicion. Josh and Courtney had disappeared into his bedroom before you’d even taken your shoes off, leaving you and Harry alone for the evening. In his house.

It was cute, a tiny but spacious two bed. He had books littering every surface, all as tattered and worn as the one he’d been reading in the bar. And the shut of him fixing you some dinner, a tea towel thrown over his shoulder… it was a good job you were propped up against the breakfast bar for how weak your legs had become.

Harry held his hands up in defence, turning round to look at you. “I swear on my life, no. I invited Josh out for one, he went to get our drinks and they must’ve bumped into each other at the bar.”

“Why did you go back to the same bar?”

“Why did you?” Harry countered, the pasta water bubbling dangerously high as he abandoned the jumble of pots and pans on the hob, leaning on the countertop in front of you.

“I asked you first,” you smirked, reaching out to swat at his face. He caught your wrist in one quick movement, pinning your hand down between you both.

“I’m older.” Harry cocked his head to the side, a playful curl tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was something soft about him, an air of domesticity that you dreamed about in a man but rarely saw.

You wrapped your fingers around his, pushing your hand against his until they sat just between your faces. “How old are you?”

“I am… old enough to be your teacher,” Harry grinned, pulling his eyes from your face to frown at your hands. “Are you seriously trying to arm wrestle me?”

You felt his arm tense up, his grip on your hand tightening as he slammed your hand back down on the countertop, a laugh rising out of him. “Seriously,” you frowned, making no attempt to loosen your grip on him as he rounded the breakfast bar, stopping when his face was only inches from yours.

The food was long forgotten, the pasta water sizzling as it overflowed onto the hob. Neither of you noticed, too enthralled by your proximity and the crackle of tension in the air.

“Thirty four,” Harry replied finally, his breath tickling your skin.

It didn’t matter anymore. He could’ve been fifty, seventy even and it wouldn’t even reach your ears. You couldn’t think with him this close to you, couldn’t force your brain to do the mental maths when the scent of his last coffee of the day lingered on his breath, the woody notes of his aftershave clinging to his shirt, deep grey ink drawn onto the inches of exposed tan skin.

“Dinners ruined,” Harry murmured, nodding his head back towards the hob, eyes still glued to yours.

“I’m not hungry,” you whispered, breath hitching as Harry moved closer. He cupped your jaw, running his thumb along your lower lip. And then he was moving around the corner, stepping into you as you opened your legs to let him closer. Your heart was hammering in your chest, eyes wide as you stared up at him.

Harry’s lips had barely met yours before the smoke alarm set off, barely given you a taste of him before he was across the kitchen, stabbing at the smoke detector with pain etched into his features.

Your eyes met when the wailing finally stopped, his frustration turning to amusement as he looked up towards the ceiling. “Maybe that was a sign,” he smirked.

You rested your head in your palm, brows knitted as you watched him lean against the sink, too far away from you. “Maybe we should follow the universes rules,” you whispered. “So you shouldn’t cross this,” you pointed to the breakfast bar.

“What if I need to get to that side of the room?” Harry countered, throwing his head back on his shoulders.

“You can ask me to pass you something.” But he was already moving closer, already rounding the countertop. And then his lips were on yours again, your makeshift barricade already forgotten. He was stronger this time, his tongue faster as it wrestled against yours, the sweet nectar of his mouth like honey as he kissed deeper into you.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered, pulling away for a second to catch your breath.

“No, we shouldn’t,” Harry echoed, pressing fervent pecks to your swollen pout.

“It’s really bad.” The words were tumbling out like a reminder to you both, your brains final plea for some display of sanity before it went too far.

Harry’s hands were wandering over your body, his eyes locked on yours as his mouth trailed down your neck. “I fear the line is too far behind us now,” he murmured, husky voice muffled against your throat. You were sure he could feel your heart working overtime to try and calm itself down, thumping against the walls of your ribs as if it were about to break free.

“I can’t see it”, you mumbled, tangling a hand in his hair. You were panting, your mouth gaping open as Harry’s fingertips clawed and kneaded at your doughy hips, his other hand cupping the nape of your neck. His mouth was magic, his tongue grazing over the spots his teeth would nip as he moved further down your body. It was as if he’d been starved for years, your skin his lifeblood, the food he so desperately craved.

But footsteps at the top of the stairs broke your spell, you and Harry forced to tear yourselves away from each other like repelling magnets. You could see the regret in his eyes, the hesitance of his touch as it left your body. He stumbled across the room to the sofa, throwing himself down as if physically pained to be out of your reach. You forced a smile onto your mouth, straightening out your skirt as Courtney rounded the corner into the living room.

“Nice night?” you smirked.

“I was just explaining to Josh that we’re being responsible now. Which means no sleepovers with boys you meet in bars, especially when you have classes the next day,” Courtney shrugged, putting on her best puppy dog eyes for you.

“I’m not your mum,” you laughed, turning to face her properly. “If you want to stay then stay.”

Courtney’s eyes flicked to Harry, as if waiting for him to tell her to leave. “Stay,” he told her, raising his eyebrows suggestively to Josh. “Even if it’s a bit weird,” he mumbled, low enough for only you to hear.

“Text me!” you called after Courtney, though her and Josh were already running back up the stairs for round god-knows-what.

“You can stay too if you like,” Harry told you, settling back into the sofa cushions.

“Mmm, maybe not. One boundary crossed in a day is enough, no?” you shrugged, busying yourself by fiddling with a loose thread on your tights.

“Who said anything about crossing boundaries?” Harry smirked. He passed your jumper to you when you rolled your eyes, grabbing his keys from the side table as he stood up.

The air was tense when you got in the car, only speaking to direct Harry to your flat. His fingers danced along your thigh at every red light, his eyes lingering on you every time he glanced to the left.

“It’s just here,” you murmured, gesturing to the building ahead of you. You didn’t know why you kept talking yourself out of something you so clearly wanted, something that came to you both so naturally. It was right with a hint of wrong, wrong with a little right. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of his lips on yours, the taste of something you so desperately craved.

Harry pulled into your driveway, questions written all over his face. You looked at him wordlessly, setting your hand on top of his.

“Do you trust Courtney?” he asked, rubbing his temple with his free hand.

“With my life.” It wasn’t Courtney finding out that bothered you, and he knew that. If you were sloppy, anyone could see you together and realise what was going on. Or worse, other students could find out and use it against him in the very way he’d accused you of. Or worse still, you could be only one of many students he did this with.

“Then as long as we’re careful, there doesn’t have to be consequences,” Harry murmured, somehow knowing exactly how to dispel all of your worries. “Unless you’d rather leave it where it is. No harm, no foul,” he offered, squinting slightly as he tried to gage your reaction. He so desperately didn’t want to leave it, to put it aside as a twenty-four hour romance, never to be spoken of again. But it was clear that neither of you wanted to suffer the consequences.

“I don’t know if I can just close that door,” you sighed, the thrill too addictive to put aside. “Keep an eye on Courtney for me, please,” you whispered, slipping out of the car before you could manage to confuse yourself further.

He stayed outside until you get in the door, a small smile playing on his lips. You hadn’t wanted to leave it, and you weren’t trying to get something out of him. It was still dangerous, still as threatening to both of your lives, but you were both in it.

—

You’d barely met Harry’s eye for the entire class, willing yourself to forget he was that hot before your foolish desires turned into something unforgivable. Even still, your legs had carried you to his office at the end of the day with urgency. The warm glow of his lamp was too familiar, the woody aftershave you could smell from outside the door too inviting. You stepped into his office silently, pushing the door closed behind you.

“Hi,” Harry smiled from behind a stack of papers. He watched as you pulled out the chair in front of his desk, dropping into it with a content grin. “I had a very fun chat with Josh this morning.”

“I bet. What did he say?”

Harry halved the papers in front of him, placing the smaller pile in front of you. His fingertips brushed against your hand as you reached for the top one, lightning bolts streaking through your skin from the point of contact.

“That I’m a creep. And someone should’ve told him yesterday,” Harry grinned, reluctantly moving his hand away from yours.

“Did Courtney not say anything?” you laughed, screwing your face up as you imagined that conversation. Harry shrugged, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“I can’t believe she’s stayed at your house,” you cringed, nose wrinkling as you thought about it. It was enough of a boundary crossed to stay there if you were sleeping with him, but to have your professor know you’d been having sex under his roof… eurgh.

“You could’ve stayed too,” Harry murmured, shifting his marked papers to the empty space beside him.

“You know I couldn’t, Harry.”

“Remind me of your reasons.”

You turned the name plate on his desk round to face him, pointing at the word ‘professor’ with raised eyebrows.

“That didn’t stop you kissing me.”

“It was an act of charity!” you protested. “How can you turn down an old, lonely man who keeps trying to kiss you?”

Harry chuckled, leaning his forearms on the desk. “I’m old and lonely now?”

You nodded, a tiny smirk emerging as you chewed on the end of your pen. The more you got to see the playful side of Harry, the more you needed him. He seemed to have just the right dose of everything you wanted, your perfect man right in front of you and yet just out of reach.

“If that’s what it takes to kiss you, I’ll gladly be the oldest and loneliest man in the world,” he mewled, eyes sparkling as he leaned closer, his grin only centimetres away from you.

But then came a knock at the door, leaving you both springing away from each other once again. Harry cleared his throat as he walked over, straightening himself out as he tried to come up with a million plausible reasons why you would be in his office.

You craned your neck to see who had chosen to interrupt that moment. It another student from your class, asking about the assignment he’d set that day. You’d never spoken to her much, and from the way she was flicking her hair at Harry, you probably wouldn’t push for a friendship. Something lit up inside of you when you watched how professional and curt he was with her, a far cry from how he’d ever acted around you.

He got rid of her fairly quickly, wishing her a good weekend. Harry slammed the door behind him, giving it a second before walking back towards you. He stopped in front of your chair, crouching down just centimetres away from your face.

“I have a proposition. I think my house will be occupied this weekend, and it doesn’t seem like luck is on our side here. Why don’t we go somewhere? Out of the city obviously. If you’d like,” he was blushing slightly as he spoke, his fingers anxiously tapping on the armrests of your chair.

“That would be nice,” you smiled, the fire inside of you only growing warmer at the thought of spending proper alone time with Harry.

He leaned forward, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to your lips before flashing you a grin. “Sorry. Just had to do that once,” he mumbled.

You watched as Harry circled around his desk, hips swaying in mock seduction when he felt your eyes on him. “Did you ever notice me before?” you asked, curiosity lacing your words.

“Of course I did.”

“No, like, notice me, notice me,” you were gesturing wildly, hoping he’d catch on to your insinuation. Asking a man if he ever fancied you was embarrassing even for you, never mind if you had to physically spell it out for them.

“I never thought about you that way, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re my student, it never crossed my mind,” Harry told you, placing his glasses at the of his nose as he resumed grading.

“But now?”

He paused for a moment, gaze dripping with lust as it dragged over your face. “Now… I am beginning to think about you that way.”

‘Beginning’ was good enough for you. You leaned back in your chair, lips curling into a satisfied smile as you fiddled with the pen cap, anticipation coursing through your veins.

“You realise you’re supposed to be helping me? You’ve only graded about four papers,” Harry teased, head nodding towards his towering ‘finished’ pile.

You thumbed through your pile, counting under your breath as Harry watched with an amused smirk. “Five, actually,” you shot back.

Harry’s only response was to raise his eyebrows, arms folded across his chest as he leaned back in the seat. “You shouldn’t be rushing me anyway. The longer I take to grade, the more time you spend with me,” you grinned.

Harry stood up again, circling around the desk to tug your chair - with you still in it - next to his. You looked over at him as he sat back down, his eyebrow raised as an amused giggle bubbled out of you. “You’re clearly distracted by looking at me,” he shrugged, grinning as you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop the laughing fit.

“Now I’m more distracted by my proximity to you,” you grumbled, tearing your eyes away from Harry to stare back at the paper. That lasted all of 5 seconds before you were turning to face Harry again, knocking your pen against his shoulder to get his attention back on you. “Since you never replied, do you not want me to take forever, so you get to spend all that time with me?”

“Do you think I’m ever going to run out of papers?”

“You could always stop setting assignments,” you shrugged.

Harry swatted at the tip of your nose, his eyes bright behind his tortoise shell glasses. “You are just full of suggestions that all end in me being unemployed.”

“You chose this career,” you murmured, voice faltering as Harry placed a finger under your chin, pulling you up to face him properly. “I wouldn’t mind if you took forever,” he smiled, his eyes dark as they landed on your mouth.

Harry’s thumb was running across your bottom lip, swiping a tiny bead of spit over it until the rosebud skin was reflecting the glow of the lights. Your heart was hammering in your throat, almost willing someone to catch you in such an innocent yet inexplicable position. You stayed frozen for a few minutes, eyes caressing every shape on the other’s face, until Harry sucked in a deep breath, springing to his feet. “Let’s go,” he grunted. “Walk over to the bus stop and meet me there.”

“Are you kidnapping me?” you laughed as you slipped into the passenger seat.

“Damn. You got me,” Harry grinned, his smile not quite hiding the frustration in his eyes, his eyebrows knitted as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Couldn’t take one more second in that fucking office,” he groaned, tires squealing as he sped away from the bus stop.

He was a man on a mission as he raced across town, desperate to put as much distance as he could between you and the university. You stayed silent, the anticipation threatening to burst out of you if you dared open your mouth.

You couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment as he pulled up in a secluded car park, any signs of life obscured by overgrown bushes and trees. You so desperately wished for Harry to take you home, to do the things that you’d dreamed about.

He lead you over to a bench just behind the trees, wildflowers and unkept grass tickling at your bare legs as you set next to him. He was still silent, brows still knitted in frustration as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, flicking open the lid and holding it out to you. You took one, eyes flitting between the box and Harry’s face as he watched you.

“Only when I’m stressed,” Harry murmured, answering your puzzled look. You handed the lighter back to him, turning to face him fully as you exhaled the first drag. “And you’re stressed why?” you asked, watching the frustrations fall from his face as a wisp of smoke trailed over the pair of you.

“Because you’re dangerous,” he smirked, watching the ash fall as he tapped the cigarette. The remnants of chipped nail varnish on his fingertips, the prominent veins in his strong hand. You never thought watching someone smoke could turn you on, but the growing wet patch in your panties was proof that there wasn’t a thing Harry could do that wasn’t overwhelmingly sexy.

“How?”

Harry turned his attention back to you after a beat, resting an arm behind you on the bench. “Because you look at me like that,” he groaned, his voice husky as he spoke. “You sit there with something so filthy yet innocent in your eyes, making me want you when we both know you’re out of reach.”

He dropped his cigarette at his feet, stumping it out as you took a final drag of yours before mimicking him. “I’m not out of reach,” you whispered, reaching up to push a curl from Harry’s face.

“I can’t have you,” Harry murmured, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling until you were straddling his thighs. His hands found your hips as you settled on top of his bulge, the cotton of his trousers melding to the slick coating your panties. You wrapped your arms around his neck, relaxing into his touch.

“You already do.” You knew what Harry was saying. You just couldn’t bother caring any longer about who might see you, or what would happen when you’d given him your all and yet couldn’t take it any further. He was exactly the kind of person you shouldn’t get involved with, and if you were a better person, you would have paid attention to that rather than finding yourself perched atop his thighs, leaning into his mouth as he pressed urgent kisses to your neck.

His fingers traced a question along the neckline of your jumper, his green eyes pleading with yours to let him uncover more of you. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t function for a second longer unless Harry released some of the energy built up inside of you. All you could do was grab a hold of the curls at the nape of his neck and hope what Harry saw in your eyes was permission.

He wasted no time in yanking down the top of your jumper, taking your bra with it until your nipple was exposed, inches from his lips. You ground down on his hips as he took you into his mouth, breathy moans clawing their way out of your throat as his tongue swirled around the pink bud. His hand was squeezing as he suckled, the perfect blend of hard and soft. Your whole body was electric, lightning bolts sending shudders through your system from where he touched you.

Harry’s lips popped off your nipple, his fingers still groping and massaging the exposed skin of your breast. He kissed his way back up to your jawline, his free hand slipping under your skirt. “Gonna do so much to this body when I have the time,” he murmured against your lips, pushing his hips up against yours. The moan that slipped past your parted lips was animalistic, your fingertips clawing for a hold on Harry’s crumpled collar.

You let his forehead push against your cheek, putty in his hands to be molded to whatever he needed you to be. His lips met yours with pure desire, your whole body limp as you succumbed to him. His lips, his touch, his cock throbbing under your core, it was too much to bear. The evening breeze that trailed over your exposed skin barely made a dent in cooling you down, did nothing to alert you to where you were or who you were with.

You reached down, leaning back until your shaking hands met the cool metal of Harry’s belt buckle. His hips bucked, nudging his clothed tip closer to your core, drawing a deep moan out of him when your fingertips brushed over his length. “Not here, princess,” he groaned, sinking his teeth into your swollen bottom lip.

You wanted to touch him, to make him feel as needed as he did to you, to feel the burn as his cock broke through your walls. The disappointment that throbbed through your core was short-lived though as his fingers moved to your entrance, plucking your panties to the side as your slick coated his lap. You were soaked through, ready for him in a way that you’d definitely be embarrassed by later. His fingertips had barely grazed you, yet you were writhing and panting as if you’d never been touched before.

You dipped your head onto Harry’s shoulder, reluctantly pulling your hands away from his hips as he presses his thumb against your clit. Your gasp was quietened by your lips pressing into his collar, your teeth tugging against the material as he rubbed slow circles over your sweet spot.

You barely managed to croak out a plea for more, your voice failing you as every muscle in your body contracted, your walls begging for Harry to touch you deeper.

He answered with a groan, shifting you in his lap until two fingers sunk into you, piercing through the tension in your core. You were rocking against his hand, lips ghosting along his jawline as you chased the high you were already so close to. Every buck of your hips pressed your clit into his palm, the contact making your hair stand on end. He was electric, his fingers fucking into you with a power that almost had you fearing what he could do in bed.

You were burning, your heart pounding in your ears. It was too loud, the sound of your slick, your moans and Harry’s breathless pants mixing together in a filthy symphony spurring you closer to your release. You wanted more of him, for him to fuck you in every way possible, but it was overwhelming. You couldn’t focus, pleasure rolling through your body in waves as his mouth found your nipple again, the added sensation pushing you over the edge. You were too weak too hold on, too close to do anything other than succumb to your high, tensing in his hold as you cried out his name.

It echoed around your mind, your eyes screwed shut as he rode you through it, your inner walls clamping down on his fingers. Your thighs were still trembling as he pulled his hand from your core and pushed his fingertips past his lips, sucking every bit of your come from them.

You were frozen, staring at Harry through heavy eyes with the ghost of a smile curling the corners of your mouth. You felt lifeless, trapped inside a body that didn’t feel like yours, even as he tucked your exposed breast back into your jumper and pulled you into his chest. You’d given him everything you had, and you’d happily stay on that bench in your blissful bubble for the rest of your life.

“Should get you home,” Harry murmured, his voice as he pressed a kiss into your hair. You hugged him tighter, unable to get up and walk away even if you wanted to.

eee guys what did you think ?! this was a bit choppy and weirdly written but 🤪 it will all come together in the next part

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7 @harrystylesluverrrr @cohnfusedarling @ell0ra-br3kk3r @stylesfever @stylesbrock @harry-nialllover @fanfic-whore

#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #professorry #harryslittlefreakk #harry styles masterlist

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mono-dot-jpeg · 6 months

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boy failures for u - i. yoichi, s. nagi, s. ryusei, b. meguru

summary; in which some boys just love you so much, they simply can't function

genre/extra tags; scenarios, fluff, comedy, projecting my love for dog energy boys, they're so pathetic /pos, bachira is clumsy, ryusei is an embarrassingly horny dude (can confirm, he gets no bitches, absolutely ZERO play!!), nagi... is perfect as he is, yoichi,,,, is just socially awkward around people he has a crush on

[gender neutral reader]

a/n; look at me being fancy this one panel banner, slay. tbh i couldn't think of a good three photos to use for it so i tried this which is kind of nice. anyways i had a sudden thought hit me and it must be done. and what better anime to write for than the one where everyone has unexplainable gay tension between each other. i swear im as caught up as possible i think and i swear the gay tension is like,, crazy.

isagi yoichi is endearing. he's so bad at being normal around you. his face flushed a cute red, and his words barely managing to leave his mouth as you talk to him so sweetly. he doesn't know how to handle a crush. and it's so cute to tease him because he just doesn't know how to respond properly.

the times where he does manage to gain enough confidence to talk a conversation with you, he's never taking the lead in any of them. he's talking [somewhat] normally to you, answering your questions and [attempting] to reply to your thoughts and responses. of course, just don't flirt with him too hard. there's like a 50 percent chance he will understand it or not.

he can't even admire you correctly. when he attempts to give you a compliment, he's saying all the wrong words and apologizing profusely like he offended your entire bloodline. he's so utterly enchanted by you, he wonders if you're an angel sent just for him.

"you're so nice, y/n." "huh?" "i-i mean you're really cute! wait- i didn't mean that! fuck- not that i don't think you look cute! you're really a great person, you know?! sorry! i'm just gonna go back to practice...!"

nagi seishiro is so lazy that you can't help but watch over him. you understand why reo adores him (a little too much). he's a boy with pretty privilege and talent. he talks to you with such honesty that he unintentionally flirts with you. he doesn't know a lot of things well, but even he's had his fair share with understanding liking people (but that's only with the random dating sims he's tried).

when he manages to get on his feet, whether it's for a soccer match or you, he's stuck by you like a cute koala. he whines about everything being "too much of a hassle." but he finds himself walking around looking for you, no matter how far you are. he whines to you about how he had to get up to find you, and he's cuddling close to you. his mouth turned into his signature X shape as he pouts at you, annoyed that you just had to be away from him for more than a minute.

he tries so hard to be around you but at the cost of his laziness, he mutters to you about how much easier it would be if you just stay with him all the time like his purple-haired companion or his cactus pet. he fell for you first, but he makes it so easy for you to fall harder.

"why do you always have to do stuff?" "it's my job, sei." "you should just stay with me all the time. you take care of me so well."

shidou ryuusei is annoyingly desperate for you. if isagi was endearing, shidou was insolent. he speaks before he thinks. he has no shame in chasing after you. it's quite a feat that you haven't even shooed him away as much as sae has. you sort of find a friend in sae because of that. he always rolls his eyes when you mention him. he wonders why you keep being around the blonde jock, and you tell him, "who doesn't love a pathetic man?"

when he talks to you, he just can't read a room with you in it. he's the type of guy to say "this shot is for you." and it hits the goal post and then to his face. of course he'd never actually miss in a real match but i can guarantee that it would happen during a practice match. he unintentionally humiliates himself every time he tries to be cool. if sae is there, it's even worse. he's trying to bump up the flirting up to a 200 and failing miserably to woo either of you.

he's like those tweets where it's like, "how did i pull them? easy. i just went, PLEASEPLEAPLSEPWPLEAPLELA-". without fail, he basically tries to re-enact that but he doesn't even pull you because you'd much rather wait for him to actually be a decent man and grow the rest of his brain. though it doesn't seem he'll learn his lesson anytime soon.

"did i ever tell you how hot you look right now?" "yes. you have. multiple times. today." "please go out with me." "no."

bachira meguru is confusing. he's clingy, blunt, teasing, a little stupid but has the spirit, and an absolute cutie. he's passionate about what he likes. and surprise, surprise, he likes you. he's an infodumper but you don't mind at all. but sometimes those talks take a hard left into just telling you how much he likes you. you better hope you're strong because he will be jumping on you for a hug.

when he's just buzzing with excitement, he can't help but scramble by your side to cling onto you in any way that you will allow him to. he's not as boy failure as the others on this list because even when he fails to capture your heart, he's still succeeding in his book. he loves when you give him any sliver of attention. that's probably his thing as a boy failure. he is a hyper and needy dog who's too big to cuddle with but doesn't care. and you can't say no because then they just stare at you with those big eyes until you cave.

he's the type of guy to be confused when people ask if you're dating him and you say no. "what do you mean we're not dating? i thought this was the dating." he's never actually confessed, but he considers his "s-tier affection" to be confession enough. but he's kind of coward whether he realizes it or not. he's scared to actually say that he wants to be yours, but that's like an angsty story for another time, SO SHUT.

"what if we kissed? like right now?" "but we're not dating, meguru." "we're not? we should." "i'll think about it." "no think! just do!"

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kira-fluff · 4 months

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I saw the “Sleeping with no pants on” headcanon and was wondering if you could do a pretty setter squad containing Atsumu, Kageyama and Akaashi please- ☁️

sleeping with no pants on | fem!reader x haikyuu!! [pt. 5]

a/n: i was not expecting everyone to be so obsessed with this prompt but I am LIVING for it. I love you guys so much 🩷 p.s. my lovely, atsumu is actually in pt. 1, but I'm going to switch for twinnie osamu, okay? 💕 also I'm so sorry i was gone for so long. busy busy busy working 3 jobs with college. forgive me if I'm a bit rusty. tw: sorta spicy idk

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

osamu miya "hey, 'samu, 'samu." "hm." he replied in a grunt. "'m tired." the two of you had stayed up the entire night trying out new recipes that osamu had thought of when he was supposed to be paying attention in class. so, now here you were at midnight, sprawled out on the couch, exhausted. "'n go 't sleep." "don' wanna drive home." "'n stay." you murmured an acknowledgement, then began slipping off your pants. osamu immediately sobered from his tiredness. "wait, the hell are ya doin'?!" "'m goin' to bed, obviously." "ya can't just take yer pants off with a man in the house!" you let out a little scoff, "oh, get over it." but osamu's mind was already racing. he tried to act cool on the outside, but you were just in your fucking panties and acting like it was no big deal? why were you always so clueless around him??? did you really not see him as romantic material??? osamu couldn't help but stare at the round shape of your ass even as your long shirt covered you. he had scarcely time to begin devouring the sight of your legs when you cleared your throat. "are you.....staring... at me?" he cleared his throat and looked away. "...s-sorry.." you leaned in close, just below his ear. "ya know... if you really wanted it that badly, you could've said something.." you smirked, taking a blanket and covering up your lower half with a conceited smirk, walking away. "h-hey wait! the fuck did ya mean by that?!" he trailed behind eagerly. the rest of the night? well... "just friends" was no longer in either of your vocabulary anymore.

kageyama tobio you friends, after all, nothing more. and you didn't want to make it weird. weirder than it already felt having hidden feelings for your best friend. it getting late after a particularly long study session which involved you trying to drill basic math facts into a brain that only understood volleyball. it was a hopeless endeavor, but you took him getting anything above a "50" as a win. so, you continued to attempt to help him improve his grades. you supposed "attempt" wasn't necessarily the right word, as his scores were generally improving, but sometimes you found yourself wondering if there was really a point to it all after you spent the whole lesson trying to help him relearn everything he misunderstood in the lesson from that day. so here you were, exhausted, with your head down on your table at home, tobio sitting across from you. "hey, kageyama, let's just call it a night." he paused for a moment, then spoke. "....do you want to sleep with me?" if you had any liquid in your mouth, you're certain you would've had a comical spit take. "ah, um, WHAT?" you sputtered, trying to make sense out of what he said. he didn't mean it that way, did he? no, of course not. "it's... late." yep. just offering a place to stay. "it is. but there are still trains. i can take a late one." "just get in my bed." your eyebrows raised. "hey, tobio, a normal person would misunderstand what you just said..." he ignored you. "just sleep with me." your face took on a reddish hue the more times he said it... and he just didn't get it? why was he messing with your heart like this!?!? "um... there are different ways to say that. like... 'want to spend the night?'" "then, spend the night." "why are you being so pushy?" "because i like you." as a friend. yeah. we've been over this. "ok, ok, you've convinced me with the power of friendship. but I'm sleeping on the couch." "no." "yes." "no. my bed has enough room." "not for me!!" you laughed nervously. does this guy even have hormones? like, what the fuck? "....I'm going to go shower. I'll see you in my bedroom." does this guy not understand the meaning of no? still, you found yourself begrudgingly trudging over to his bed, especially after you saw his couch was made with the comfort of a burlap sack. I mean, if he offered, might as well take advantage right? what could go wrong? spoiler: everything goes wrong. you thought he was fast asleep. so, in the stealth of 1000 ninjas, you slid off your sweatpants for the sake of comfort. it wasn't weird, right? oh well. you were tired and damn did he like his room hot. you jumped when you felt him arms wrap around you. then, he stiffened. "...are you not wearing any pants?" "um... maybe..." he sighed. "are you trying to seduce me?" "n-no it's just more comfortable!" he turned you around so you were facing him. "well, whatever you're trying to do, it's working. I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep." "wait, is it because I'm making you uncomfortable?" he went silent for a moment. ".... you could say that." "I'll... just put them back on then. sorry. it's just that your room is really hot and-" "can I kiss you?" you blinked in disbelief. "can you what?" "kiss you" he answered without a beat. you spluttered some more as he slowly leaned it, asking for permission, silently this time. you nodded and closed your eyes. sparks flew as his lips moved against your own and you finally understood what he'd meant when he said "I like you". kageyama tobio was head over heels in love with you, and you hadn't a clue. until now. the two of you broke apart. "...can we... do that again?" he asked brazenly. you leaned forward again in reply.

akaashi keiji akaashi would rather die than confess to you the things he woke up at night fantasizing about. you'd likely be especially mortified if you discovered that one of your most embarrassing mishaps was on a frequent replay in akaashi's brain when he fell asleep. he was supposed to be a gentleman, not some gross pervert that looked at one of his best friends like... that. but since it was all in his dreams, it was impossible to "turn off" no matter how many times he tried to think about something else before he went to sleep. and so, let's recall The Incident shall we? he had come to your house late at night and knocked at the door, fully expecting to see you up and awake as it was the early evening. to his surprise, however, you answered the door groggily, eyes still bleary from exhaustion and sleep. the way you looked would be forever ingrained in his mind. you were blinking back the remnants of sleep, wearing one of his shirts. it hung low on you, but not low enough to cover your supple legs and the white panties that peeked out below the hem line of his shirt. you hadn't noticed yet, either. "... what d' ya need...?" you asked tiredly, rubbing your eye. akaashi swallowed harshly, his brain turned into complete mush. "uhh.. uhh...." goddamnit, MOVE YOUR EYES BACK UP TO HER FACE. were her legs always that long? STOP. when he still hadn't answered, you followed his gaze down to your lower half. he still remembers the succession of events as follows: you blushed, stammered, and then slammed the door in his face. you didn't talk to him for a week. after, you finally awkwardly explained that you sleep without your pants on and that you didn't realize you hadn't put anything on when you answered the door because you were so tired. it sucked that you ignored him. and even that you explained yourself. because all it did was bring those... memories... right back to the forefront of his mind. whenever he saw you in the hall and you'd flush and look away, he was immediately brought back to the sight of your bare legs. when you stumbled through your explanation, his mind reeled back to those white panties. and he hated it. what kind of friend looks at their friend that way? but he knew in his heart that what he was feeling for you was beyond sexual attraction when, in his dreams, you smiled at him. and told him you loved him. and so, what if he dreamt a little longer? hopefully you'd forgive him. and maybe someday he could tell you how you made him feel...

#haikyuu!!#kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi fluff #Akaashi keiji x reader #hq osamu #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu osamu #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader

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reasonsforhope · 2 days

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"Expanding freedom and opportunity to millions

Over a decade ago, researchers, policymakers, journalists, and individuals and family members harmed by prisons and jails helped define American mass incarceration as one of the fundamental policy challenges of our time. In the years since, policymakers and voters in red, blue, and purple jurisdictions have advanced criminal justice reforms that safely reduced prison and jail populations, expanding freedom and opportunities to tens of millions of Americans.

After nearly forty years of uninterrupted prison population growth, our collective awareness of the costs of mass incarceration has fundamentally shifted–and our sustained efforts to turn the tide have yielded meaningful results.

Since its peak in 2009, the number of people in prison has declined by 24 percent (see figure 1). The total number of people incarcerated has dropped 21 percent since the 2008 peak of almost 2.4 million people, representing over 500,000 fewer people behind bars in 2022. Absent reforms, more than 40 million more people would have been admitted to prison and jail over this period. The number of people on probation and parole supervision has also dropped 27 percent since its peak in 2007, allowing many more people to live their lives free from onerous conditions that impede thriving and, too often, channel them back into incarceration for simple rule violations.1

"Absent reforms, more than 40 million more people would have been admitted to prison and jail over this period. [2008 to 2022]"

Make no mistake: mass incarceration and the racial and economic disparities it drives continue to shape America for the worse. The U.S. locks up more people per capita and imposes longer sentences than most other countries. Nearly 1-in-2 adults in the U.S. have an immediate family member that has been incarcerated, with lifelong, often multigenerational, consequences for family members’ health and financial stability. Yet the past decade of successful reforms demonstrate that we can and must continue to reduce incarceration. These expansions of freedom and justice–and the millions of people they have impacted–help define what is at stake as public safety has reemerged as a dominant theme in American public and political conversation.

...We have a robust body of research built over decades showing that jail stays and long prison sentences do not reduce crime rates. And fortunately, we have an extensive and expanding body of research on what does work to reduce crime and keep communities safe. The evidence is clear: our focus must be on continuing and accelerating reductions in incarceration.

Black imprisonment rate drops by nearly half

People directly impacted by incarceration and other leaders in the criminal justice reform movement have persistently called out how the unequal application of policies such as bail, sentencing, and parole (among others) drive massive racial disparities in incarceration. The concerted effort to reduce our prison population has had the most impact on the group that paid the greatest price during the rise of mass incarceration: Black people, and particularly Black men.

The Black imprisonment rate has declined by nearly 50 percent since the country’s peak imprisonment rate in 2008 (see figure 2). And between 1999 and 2019, the Black male incarceration rate dropped by 44 percent, and notable declines in Black male incarceration rates were seen in all 50 states. For Black men, the lifetime risk of incarceration declined by nearly half from 1999 to 2019—from 1 in 3 Black men imprisoned in their lifetime to 1 in 5.

While still unacceptably high, this reduction in incarceration rates means that Black men are now more likely to graduate college than go to prison, a flip from a decade ago. This change will help disrupt the cycle of incarceration and poverty for generations to come.

Expanding safety and justice together

The past decade-plus of incarceration declines were accompanied by an increase in public safety. From 2009-2022, 45 states saw reductions in crime rates, while imprisoning fewer people, with crime falling faster in states that reduced imprisonment than in states that increased it.

This is in keeping with the extensive body of research showing that incarceration is among the least effective and most expensive means to advance safety. Our extremely long sentences don’t deter or prevent crime. In fact, incarcerating people can increase the likelihood people will return to jail or prison in the future. Public safety and a more fair and just criminal system are not in conflict.

Strong and widespread support for reform

We have also seen dramatic progress on the public opinion front, with a clear understanding from voters that the criminal justice system needs more reform, not less. Recent polling shows that by a nearly 2 to 1 margin respondents prefer addressing social and economic problems over strengthening law enforcement to reduce crime. [In simpler terms: people are twice as likely to prefer non-law-enforcement solutions to crimes.]

Nearly nine-in-ten Black adults say policing, the judicial process, and the prison system need major changes for Black people to be treated fairly. Seventy percent of all voters (see figure 3) and 80 percent of Black voters believe it’s important to reduce the number of people in jail and prison. Eighty percent of all voters, including nearly three-fourths of Republican voters, support criminal justice reforms.

This is not only a blue state phenomenon. Recent polling in Mississippi indicates strong support across the political spectrum for bold policies that reduce incarceration. For example, according to polling from last month, 72 percent of Mississippians, including majorities from both parties, believe it is important to reduce the number of people in prison (see figure 4). Perhaps most tellingly, across the country victims of crime also support further reforms to our criminal justice system over solutions that rely on jail stays and harsh prison sentences...

We are at an inflection point: we can continue to rely on the failed mass incarceration tactics of the past, or chart a new path that takes safety seriously by continuing to reform our broken criminal justice system and strengthening families and communities."

-via FWD.us, May 15, 2024

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riptide-hiatus-countdown · 7 days

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Update

For those who do not have the patreon, Grizzly released an update video on the status of Riptide. He spoke about working with a writing coach named Mariana (not qsmp) who is helping him with diverse characters, sensitivity checks, and world building.

When Riptide returns Grizzly said they were going to run Jay’s solo session first. He also teased the possibility of upping the quality by using maps and getting together more however it would most likely just stay as it was. They also spoke about bonus material like a recap however that would not come out for a while.

The release date of Riptide has also changed due to behind the scenes complications and to make way for wonderlust. It is said that it is looking more towards early August when recordings and uploads would start again.

In the meantime there are some things you can look forward to to fill that Riptide shaped hole in your heart. The first being Wonderlust. The trailer made by Floating_Megane is coming out this month with recording coming soon after. Another patreon exclusive is a short campaign run by Grizzly featuring Milo Mumbles in place of Charlie as he is busy. If you don’t know Milo she ran a channel with Bizly called Spittake and whether or not you can watch Spittake to see some funny Bebo moments and get to see Milo absolutely dunk in said Bebo. Another lesser known campaign Grizzly didn’t mention is he is in the midst of a non-JRWI called Shadows Over Welde which is streamed live on twitch channel AlphaAniki. It is run by Jonah Scott the person who played Ichabod as a guest character a while back. It already has a few episodes released and for those interested Grizzly plays a representative of the reformed church of lolth called Zephrael so if you like religious themes I would definitely recommend checking it out.

In terms of this blog, as there is no confirmed date I am going to move the timers to August 12th or 50 more days so while it may not be entirely accurate it can still paint a picture of when Riptide will return.

Don’t worry we’re in this together.

#jrwi #jrwi countdown #jrwi podcast #jrwi riptide #jrwi show #just roll with it #just roll with it riptide #jrwiblr

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loliwrites · 7 days

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I. Tenacity | Edelweiss

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early 30s], joel lives forever fight me, canon compliant violence, no infected here just terrible humans, mention of death, blood, and murder, mentions of hunger, diva cup appearance, talk of irregular menstrual cycles [trauma-induced menopause][epigenetics], DUBCON/NONCON [tagging ‘cause reader allows it but true enthusiastic consent is absent], brief SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, slow burn-ish, protective!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 5.6k series masterlist a/n: my first go at writing something tlou-related. be gentle pls.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The steady rhythm. You could count the number of times your hip would be shoved into the wooden table with a high degree of certainty of when it would be over. Michael never lasted too long. Somewhere between thirty-four and thirty-seven thrusts. He was never particularly rough, and though he was never chasing to make you feel good, he was at least better than George and James – both of whom would probably be lining up after Michael was done. George seemed to last forever. Some old fart who’d gained his stamina before the world came to a screeching halt. He usually landed somewhere between sixty-two and sixty-six thrusts. The bruises he left behind always lasted the longest because of the sheer amount of times he slammed your body into whatever you were up against. A table, a railing, an old pool table with torn, dirty felt. And the worst of all was James. He may not last the longest, but he had the uncanny ability of making you feel like some depraved wild animal he was trying to break. He never took his time to make sure it wouldn’t be absolutely painful like Michael did. Nor did he have a pencil dick to make it somewhat manageable like George. He took it how he wanted it – fast, unceremonious, and always left you in a mess you’d have to clean up.

Part of you wondered if this was worth it. If the wolf was only as strong as the pack, then having a pack was supremely necessary. And though, these guys… and the group they led… weren’t the people you would’ve gone with by choice. A pack was a pack. Alone, you were an easy target for almost anything and anyone. Being together afforded you safety in numbers. Relative safety in numbers. Safe enough to have stayed alive with them for the past six years. Years that you likely wouldn’t have gotten if you’d fought them tooth and nail and went off on your own. Solitude could only get you so far. No matter how proficient you were with your rifle.

The one that lay in front of you on the table. Clean, well-oiled, with a scope affixed to the top. As Michael started to moan recklessly behind you, you thought about the meals you’d forfeited in trade for the supplies needed to keep the weapon in the best of shape. Times were tough – had been tough for a couple decades now – and a gun was a gun. It didn’t need to be clean, it just had to work. But this was no ordinary gun.

Michael came inside you with a strangled grunt and pulled out a second later. That was a relatively new twist in the routine. For years the men were careful to never finish inside you… or any of the other women in the group. Food and resources were scarce enough as it was, let alone adding little mouths to feed and take care of. But a few months back, you’d confided in some of the women that your period hadn’t been coming when you expected it to. And when time had passed and neither a baby nor your period came, you came to the conclusion you were suffering from the same fate as some of the other women. A hard life compounded. Trauma induced menopause. You weren’t sure which of the women had ratted you out. But soon enough the men had become aware of your new biological situation, and they stopped the frantic pulling out as they came. Perhaps that was for the best. Who’d want to bring a child into a world like this?

“Was that alright?” Michael asked, buckling his belt back up. His back was turned toward you as he reached for his own rifle, which he’d propped up against the wall.

You glanced over at him and pulled your pants back up your legs. Over the lofted railing, you could hear George and James mumbling to each other. “Fine,”

“Did you…?”

He finally met your eyes. Anxiety-ridden. None of the other men ever asked, but you didn’t have it in you to lie to him. At some point maybe it’d sink in that he should stop partaking in the act just to fit in with the boys. “No,”

His gaze averted to the floor sheepishly and he shouldered his rifle. “Guess we should get back downstairs,”

“I’ll be down in a couple minutes,”

Now you were the one to turn your back on him. Though you hoped he’d come to his senses and start to become a better man. You knew he wouldn’t. He was initiated into the system. The one George and James, and all the other men in the settlement formed. The one that meant they brought girls along on patrols so they could get their kicks and save face with the others that they were doing their due diligence in protecting the group. And you joining the group… well you turned out to be the little guardian angel for the women in the pack. Good with a gun, able to pick off infected and humans alike from a mile out. It only seemed natural that the men going out on patrols would take you with them. For that you inadvertently protected the other women from your fate.

Michael cleared his throat and started down the stairs from the loft. You bit the inside of your cheek to show yourself you could still feel something, and – BANG!

Your head flicked around toward the noise. What was left of Michael was splattered against the wall leading up the stairs. You grabbed your gun and held it poised. Looked over the lofted banister and down at the room below. George had backed up into the far corner; his arms raised in non-threatening compliance. Someone must’ve been pointing a weapon at him, but you couldn’t tell from the angle. And James, well… if it didn’t warm your heart a little bit to see him being restrained in a chokehold with a handgun to his temple. The man you could see, holding James, was tall, muscular… he had black, curly, jaw-length hair. A thick mustache. He was in all denim. And it was clean, which was the thing that caught you the most off-guard.

You lifted your gun, disregarding the scope, and looked down the barrel. James may’ve been part of your pack, but you’d thought about putting a bullet in him on a daily basis for the last eight years. And while these guys might kill you afterward, at least you’d have the brief satisfaction of knowing that you’d taken one terrible human off the face of the planet.

So there was no hesitancy when you squeezed the trigger. The round flew by the denim-clad man’s head and went straight into James’. He crumpled to the floor and the man who’d been holding him looked up in your direction, though you’d backed away enough to ensure you weren’t seen.

Your pulse was pounding in your ears. Despite two thirds of your life having been in a post-Cordyceps world, the sound and reverberation of your rifle going off right by your ear didn’t keep it from ringing. An almost concussion-like haziness emphasized by the adrenaline coursing in your veins. From down below, you could just barely hear George pleading for his life. Something about how he had a woman he loved and wanted to go home to. Strange considering he had his dick in you on most days out.

The ringing in your ears started to quiet, just in time for you to hear a footstep behind you. A heavy one. Definitely belonged to a man. But not in time for you to spin around with your rifle before finding the man already pointing his rifle at you.

“Drop it,” he commanded gruffly. A deep, gravelly voice. He was sure of himself. Confident. His tattered jacket bunched up around his shoulders. He wasn’t as clean-looking as his partner currently detaining George. Graying, brown hair, a prominent scar over his nose, a scruffiness… and yet, he still looked too put together to have been living off the land for any amount of time. You should know. God knows what you looked like had you ever taken any time in front of a mirror. If the dirtiness of your hands were any indication, you were a little worse for wear. “I said, drop it,”

Your eyes flicked back up to his face and you slowly bent over and placed your rifle on the floor. No sooner than you’d completed the action, he had another order for you. Kick it here and get on your knees. So you did. Nudged your most prized possession away with your foot when another BANG! rang through the old hunting lodge. Your eyes flinched shut; the nanosecond of thought that this was it. You’re dead. But then… you still felt alive. And you squinted your eyes open to evaluate. Yep, definitely still alive. No bleeding holes coming from your body, and the man still in front of you waiting for you to comply with his last order. Which you did… awkwardly. A grimace stretched over your face when you knelt down and felt your pants sticking to your thighs; Michael’s spend dripping out of you.

The muzzle of the man’s rifle never left you, “got anything else on you?”

“Knife in my front pocket,”

“Slide it over,”

You did. Quickly. Hoping that your quickness and willingness to obey him would mean he’d let you go with your tail tucked between your legs.

“You infected?”

You glared at him, “do I look infected?”

He cocked his gun and held it up in line with your head. You trained your eyes on his index finger around the trigger. Just one twitch. That’s all it’d take.

“Joel,” both you and the man… Joel… looked away from each other, and fixed your eyes on the stairs where the second one – the one you’d disregarded in order to kill James – entered the loft. “Look at her gun,” both men looked at your rifle. “I don’t think she misses very often. If she was gonna kill us, we’d already be dead.”

He went to approach you, and this time Joel spoke up. A cautious step forward, “Tommy.”

But this Tommy… he took another couple steps in your direction and handed off his rifle to Joel when he went to stand in front of you. You kept your eyes on his face, tilting your head back to keep him in your line of vision. Even if he tried something, you weren’t sure what you’d do to stop him, but at least you’d see it coming.

“I don’t think you missed me. I don’t even think you were aiming at me,”

“I wasn’t,”

A victorious smile spread across his face and he twisted around to look back at Joel, “see.” Tommy looked back down at you and set his hands on his hips. “What’s your name?”

You flicked your eyes at Joel quickly before returning them to Tommy to answer his question.

“You’re with the other settlement?”

“I wouldn’t call them a settlement,” your eyes flicked over to Joel when he clicked his tongue on his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Nomads, at best,”

“And at worst?” Joel barked.

Your eyebrows lifted quickly in contemplation before… “a bunch’a assholes,”

Another wide grin broke out over Tommy’s face. “You got a family or a partner in that bunch of assholes?” He waited for a verbal response but you only shook your head. “We’ll take her back with us. She might be able to give us some answers about our friends we’ve been seeing on patrol.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

They made you walk while they sat easily atop their horses. Some kind of cruel twist of fate that your own gun was turned on you the whole time. Joel made sure of that. Based on the way the sun fell toward the horizon, you figured you’d all been an hour and a half walk south of their settlement. Which as you neared the large wooden gates, seemed to be more like a QZ than some random encampment. And judging by the way the two men bickered, you assumed they were brothers. Only siblings could piss each other off like that and not take it personally. How lucky, you thought, that after all this time, they still had each other.

When you did near the enormous gates, Tommy left you behind with Joel. A precarious position. His face remained stoic the entire time, muzzle of the gun pointed at you… didn’t even answer when you asked if his horse had a name. You thought about goading him into an argument for the fun of it. Maybe he named his horse Princess. Or Spike. But Tommy interrupted again, riding up with a handful of others and even a dog. It growled and snarled in your direction, and you weren’t sure why, but you glanced back up at Joel to see if his expression had changed. Maybe you wouldn’t be so scared if he didn’t look like there was something you should be nervous about.

To your surprise, he was already staring at you. Upon meeting your gaze, he nodded once and jut his chin in the direction of the dog. “S’gonna sniff you. See if you’re infected. If not, like you say, nothin’ll happen.”

“If I am?” You cocked your head back toward the snarling animal.

“It’ll probably just take your leg off or somethin’,”

“Any chance this dog fucks up?”

“Probably not,”

And it didn’t. Thankfully. Hopefully this meant they’d trust explicitly that you indeed weren’t infected. They seemed to trust their trained animal enough to let you inside their settlement. Jackson, they called it. You’d never heard of it. Never heard of any rumblings of a massive commune. And yet…. It was gorgeous. Nice buildings, string lights, stables, a bar, dining hall, and in the distance, what seemed to look like a large, sweeping neighborhood.

Tommy had joined up with a woman: Maria. They kissed and spoke fondly to each other, so you assumed they were partners. Both walked ahead of you, while Joel remained at your rear. You figured with your rifle still pointed at you. Everyone stopped what they were doing when you passed by. All staring to get a glimpse of the newcomer. Would you be joining them permanently? Would they kill you? You asked yourself the same questions.

Your feet had stopped moving but you didn’t notice until you felt the muzzle of your rifle press against your upper back. Joel jabbed the metal against your back again, growing antsier with the fact that your gaze had settled on a teenager in the distance. She was staring at you, too. A fact that seemed to make Joel even more aggravated. He mumbled his annoyance to you and you got moving again, walking up the boarded steps into the dining hall.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

They treated you better than you expected. Hell, better than your group would’ve treated someone they didn’t know. They set a big glass of water in front of you with a heaping plate of vegetables, chicken, and fresh bread. The water was one of the biggest surprises. You couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t have to boil water before drinking it. Maybe when you were still with your parents. That felt like a lifetime ago.

Tommy and Maria shared glances like they weren’t sure what you were going to tell them. Considering no one else joined you, you figured these three (or a combination) held a great deal of power in the settlement. Joel, however, looked pissed that this was even happening at all. That he hadn’t just shot you on sight back at the hunting lodge. It was pretty easy to ignore him. You’d spent the better half of your time on earth ignoring men just like him. But then the questions started coming and you figured all this kindness came at a price. They wanted to know everything. So you didn’t hold back. Maybe if you were open and frank with them, they’d let you stay here. They wouldn’t make you go back to those awful people.

Told them that you’d been with that group for the last eight years. And in those eight years, they hadn’t really expanded their numbers by any considerable amount. That they hovered somewhere between forty-four and sixty-two people -- including the three that had been killed today – and that about two thirds of them were men. You even told them about how you’d become a sort of fun novelty for the men. That they brought you along on their scouts because you were better than anyone with a rifle. Once they got their rocks off by watching you down game a mile off, they got their rocks off again, fucking you up against anything sturdy enough to withstand the weight and pressure.

Joel looked down at his lap at that. Avoided your eyes. You took it to mean that he knew what that was like. Maybe he did the same.

You shrugged and pushed the remnants of food around on your plate. Eight years was a long time to endure that type of treatment. You told them as much.

“You don’t have loyalty to anyone in the other group?” Maria asked, probing.

“She shot one of her own guys today. Doesn’t have loyalty to anyone,”

Everyone’s heads turned to Joel. He’d since leaned back in his chair, almost nonchalantly. The gun that had been pointed at you now lay on the opposite end of the table. You thought you saw indignance in his eyes. Disdain for you and the plight he perceived you to be on. Scorched earth. Loyal to no one but yourself. Maybe that was true. Maybe you’d evolved to become highly selective in where to lay your loyalty.

“He wasn’t my guy,” you spat in Joel’s direction. It might as well have been just the two of you in the room. “He was the guy that killed my parents. So fuck him,”

It was hard to tell what they thought of you. Tommy was the only one who smiled freely. Maria saved hers for Tommy. And Joel didn’t smile at all. There was no talk of a plan or a future. No conversation about what was to become of you. All they told you as you wandered from the main street and down one cul-de-sac road lined with houses was that they didn’t allow anyone to have weapons in town. All firearms stayed at the armory.

That conversation ended as they stopped in front of a small one story cottage. It was dark and rickety, and for the life of you, you couldn’t fathom who you were to be put into the arms of. If the house was any indication, probably some horribly untidy mess of a man. Maybe it’d be the type of man you’d wished you’d have your gun around for.

Maria, Tommy, and Joel led you inside that dark, rickety cottage. Unlocked the door and flicked the lights on as they entered the living room. You kept your eyes and ears alert. Your awareness might be the only upperhand you had in sensing danger here. But you heard nothing. You saw nothing. There wasn’t another soul in this house waiting to attack. It was just you and the three who’d brought you here. They didn’t offer an explanation. Joel just stood back and eyed your every move carefully while Maria handed you a little stack of clean clothes, a toothbrush and a tube toothpaste, and a small cardboard box that held something you’d never heard of before: a diva cup.

You looked up to give her an apprehensive glance but found that she was already giving you one. It was a look you’d seen before. When you’d talked yourself into joining that other group all those years ago. It was the look the women had given you before they realized you were about to become their saving grace. She turned away from you and gave Tommy a peck on her way out; not even bothering to acknowledge Joel.

There was a part of you that admired her. For the amount of power she clearly wielded over not only these two men, but seemingly the entire commune. And the other part of you was scared of her. She reminded you of your mother. A strong, domineering type who knew how to control the men around her. You figured if the outbreak hadn’t happened and humans didn’t devolve before your very eyes, you might’ve become the same type of woman. The type who could keep her men in line with a look. The type whose men would’ve quivered at the look you’d shot them.

The front door shut behind Maria in the same moment Tommy was handing you a key. You took it in your hand and ran your thumb over the cold, smooth metal. It had been decades since you held one like it. Surely even before the outbreak, people just didn’t hand over keys to houses for nothing.

“You can stay in Jackson for a month on a little trial run–”

“Probation,” Joel interrupted.

Both you and Tommy flicked your eyes at him. While Tommy looked annoyed, you actually smiled. Somehow Joel’s bluntness was growing to be comforting.

“Jesus, Joel,”

He shrugged, “S’call it what it is. Probation to see if she’s a problem and we gotta send ‘er packin’,”

“Appreciate you both not shootin’ me,” you said, you voice sounding hoarse. You cleared your throat and shook your head absently; a small smile passing over your lips, “would’ve put a damper on my day.”

Tommy grinned though his brother looked unamused at your effort of levity. “Someone’ll come ‘round tomorrow morning around seven-thirty to bring you to the greenhouse. Teach you the workflow down there.” Then off your confused look, he smiled again, heading for the door, “if you’re gonna live in the community, you gotta help out.”

Joel turned his back on you to follow his brother, and you were quick on their heels, “what about my gun? I mean, does everyone have their own gun at the armory, or…”

“It’s a commune. We share,” Tommy said over his shoulder as he tugged the front door back open. He and Joel stepped through the threshold, but your voice stopped them.

“It’s just that… I’d rather not be here and have my gun, than be here and have someone else usin’ it. I appreciate what you’re doin’, and your helping me out, but… to me, staying in Jackson isn’t worth havin’ someone else use my weapon,”

“It’ll be safe,”

Tommy’s voice rang clear and sure, trying to reassure you of something. What, you weren’t certain. But he continued on his way, and only once he stepped off the small porch, did you realize that Joel had momentarily kept himself frozen in place. By your front door, staring you down. You started to shrink back beneath his gaze, unable to discern what it was trying to convey to you. Anger. Resentment. Disappointment. The door nearly concealed you entirely before Joel got his bearings again and descended the porch steps and jogged to keep pace with Tommy again.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

The whole thing was weird. All of it. Jackson was an anomaly and the more you tried to make yourself at home, the weirder it got. The house they’d just given you was definitely a pre-outbreak build. It was obvious. Some of the other houses on the block looked new. You imagined they’d smell new. Not your cottage. Scuffed up wood floors. Cracks in the paint and drywall. Even the wood-burning stove. And when you looked out the front window, out at the street, you saw children. Walking by themselves. Joking around. Not nearly on edge or high alert. In fact, you dared to say that they looked like they were having fun.

You’d only been ten when the world came crashing down around you. Fun ripped out from right under your feet. The homestead you’d grown up on – climbing trees, playing hide and seek, shooting down Coke cans – once a safe place to be a kid, had quickly become something to be defended. As you found out many moons later, to the death.

At ten, there wasn’t anything to rebuild in the new world. You hadn’t had any worldly possessions to hang onto. When money became obsolete, it didn’t matter because you’d never had any. Perhaps in a bank somewhere, stuffed away in a savings account that no longer held any weight. Nor did you need the money to get by in life these days. You’d heard tales of the QZ’s from people who’d come from them. Escaped from them. They had a new type of currency. Not the kind you used to have. The green paper money with a bunch of old dudes on the front. The kind your family burned sometime in the winter of 2006 when the first freeze took over and you were sure you’d never get back to the old normal.

And that was what made Jackson the weirdest. It was the closest to ‘old normal’ you’d seen in over two decades. A whole town. Village. Commune, they’d called it. A formal education had stopped young, so the only awareness of anything commune related came from a book your father had about the Bolshevik’s October Revolution. And if you were being honest, it didn’t sound too good. But on top of that, how were you supposed to rebuild now? Maria had been kind enough to give you a few things, but there wasn’t wood for the wood-burning stove. And the electricity might’ve been working, but there wasn’t any food in the fridge. No sides of deer cut up and stored in a chest freezer. How were you supposed to get that in a commune? Did they have money? Did they barter? And either way, you had no money to give and nothing to barter. So how exactly were you supposed to get on in life?

Face up, staring at the ceiling, you laid in bed willing yourself to go to sleep. You’d gone to bed hungry before. More times than you could count. But usually those nights were accompanied by a dirt floor, extreme cold, the threat of being hunted. A million other things to keep your mind off of the fact that your stomach was growling. There wasn’t any of that in Jackson. Everything was quiet, almost eerily so. You were warm. And even though the mattress wasn’t the comfiest of things, it sure as hell beat the floor. With all these little luxuries, it was hard to ignore the hunger.

But even if you had been asleep, you’re sure you would’ve been woken by the footsteps on your old, rickety porch. None of the wood planks laid exactly right. All creaking with age and rot. Much like the world, you thought. Plus you couldn’t remember a night’s sleep that wasn’t disturbed by panic or anxiety, or just plain fear. Probably hadn’t had a peaceful night like that since before the outbreak. Now that creaking on your porch made you jump up and scurry into the corner of your bedroom. Into the shadows. Praying you’d had your rifle. Cursing the idea that you’d stay here without it.

The creaking came and went in a steady procession. Four footsteps. A pause. Another four footsteps. On and on for a few minutes. Long enough for you to have gained your courage again. Long enough for you to have crawled to the front room and peek through the window. Long enough for you to see Joel Miller ambling back and forth on the porch, stacking pieces of wood, conveniently chopped to fit the size of your wood burning stove. What a stark difference from the Joel Miller who’d been pointing a gun at your head this morning. You went to the door and unlatched it, slowly pulling it open so as to not startle him. He came to an abrupt stop. An armful of wood. Staring at you.

He blinked a couple times in quick procession, gaining the wherewithal to move again. “M’sorry if I woke ya’,”

You shook your head, “I don’t sleep much.”

Joel nodded and set the armful of wood on top of the rest. He wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, almost sheepishly. “Winter comes up on us pretty quick here. Insulation in this place is for the birds. Figured you’d need some wood for the stove.”

“Oh,”

“I cleaned out the flue a couple months back so you shouldn’t smoke yourself out,”

Lips pursed together, you pondered the stack of wood nestled up against the cottage. “I don’t think I’m gonna stay. Doesn’t seem like this is the right place for me,”

Joel didn’t have a response for you, just looked down at his feet and kicked at a nonexistent something on the porch.

“That gun–my gun. My dad gave it to me in 2003. September 26th,”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours. Pain riddled in his gaze as if he remembered that date all too well. And when it vanished, the coldness you’d first noticed in the hunting cabin returned.

“It’s all I have left. And as ridiculous as it sounds to be so attached to a rifle, I am. And I–”

“It doesn’t sound ridiculous,” he interrupted. Just when you thought he’d continue on and show a little more softness, kindness… he kept speaking, “Look, I don’t care if you stay or go. Don’t need stragglers hangin’ ‘round. So I’d love to give you your gun back and dump ya’ out past the gate. But Tommy’s always been a little stupid. Takes chances on people,”

“What an idiot,” you smirked.

A smile flashed over Joel’s face. It was gone in a second. And he turned away from you, descending the porch steps. “He’ll bring you to the greenhouse. Teach’ya how things operate, and…” he took a deep breath. Something almost like fondness erupted in his tone, “you might not wanna stay, but don’t fuck things up there for the rest of us. We got families here. And we’ll need the resources to get through the winter.”

“You think I’d fuck things up on purpose?”

Joel looked over his shoulder and nodded, “yeah. ‘Cause I’ve been in your spot before and I did.”

He continued on and you stayed put on your porch, watching him until he was out of sight. Wondering where the house he was given was. If he was alone, or if he had some sort of partner living with him. But also figured you’d never get the chance to know.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

“We get most of our roughage and root vegetables in the colder months. There’s a constant harvest to keep up with the community’s needs, but some of these aren’t hearty enough to withstand the winter. Even inside the greenhouse,”

You nodded dutifully behind Wendy. At least you think that was the name Tommy mumbled as he was being dragged out of the greenhouse by Joel. Something about being late for patrol and not wanting to spend all day on some godforsaken cliffside. She’d just got done showing you the strawberry vines. The lifeless things that she assured you would spring to life when the warmer weather came back.

The work was easy enough. Boring. Nothing you hadn’t already done on your family’s land as a teenager. Only this was on a much smaller scale. Maybe most of these people had come from QZs. And maybe before that they came from big cities. Places where they never knew where their food came from. That it just somehow appeared in their groceries. Yet, by current standards… of canned things from yesteryear, the greenhouse was a bit of a spectacle. Something beautiful.

Wendy continued on her well-practiced lecture about potatoes as you got lost roaming the rows of plants. Up and down each long, leafed path. Fingers gliding over them, not taking the time to stop and acknowledge any plant in particular. Until, in the absence of your thought, your fingers brushed over something woolly. Pulling your hand back, you focused in. There, just beyond your fingertips, a tray of small white flowers. The petals, less like blossoms, but more like leaves. And woolly. Fuzzy. Unlike anything you’d ever seen.

“What’re these?” Eyes still locked onto your discovery, you hadn’t fully comprehended that you’d interrupted Wendy’s spiel.

And yet when she came upon you, there was no ill will or annoyance from her. Just her gentle hand on your shoulder. “It’s edelweiss,” she smiled and shrugged her shoulders when her answer had you giving her a questioning glance. “It’s usually up in the Alps. In the middle of nowhere. Jesse came back from patrol one day ‘bout a year ago with a handful of these plucked up from the root. No idea how they ended up in Wyoming.” Wendy brushed her fingers over the fuzzy leaves.

“How’d you know what they were?”

“Call it coincidence or divine intervention, my grandfather had an oil painting of them above his fireplace in the eighties. When he was stationed in Germany during the war, he’d heard all these stories about this little star-shaped flower. Soldiers would climb high up into the mountains to find them. They grow in the harshest places, sometimes even right on rocks. The journey to get them was hard. A lot of guys didn’t finish the trip, but if they did, they got to pin one of these to their uniforms. A symbol of true bravery,”

You admired the flowers again. Now even a smile crossed your face.

Wendy let out an exasperated sigh, “and I figured, hell… if they can survive on the top of the Alps and in this nightmare of an apocalypse, Jesse finding ‘em wasn’t no mistake. Maybe we’re lucky here in Jackson.”

#joel miller x reader #jackson!joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #ppcu fanfiction #edelweiss fic

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odessa-2 · 3 months

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HUBLANDER MELBOURNE ☀️

OK ladies, so I ended up going. Long story short, I was given a spare ticket and decided to seize the moment. It was stinking hot, and a terribly organised event (it was literally in a shed). Despite this, I am glad I did go. My long held observations/beliefs of Sam's character, who he really is as a man, and the fantasy man, single Sam push, were proven correct. I did get a photo with Sam, and I must confess he really is incredibly good-looking. Even better in the flesh. A doll. He's hyper vigilant, astutely aware of his surrounds (eyes darting everywhere) , very polite and gentlemanly and professional.

He looked tanned and fresh and endured hoards of horny grannies fawning over him for hours on end and was attentive to everyone. The organisers of the event stuck Sam, Duncan, Charles and John in a small tin shed that had no air con, that must've been about 50 degrees celsius inside ,where they stood and posed with frenzied women for over 3 hours. They looked visibly overheated (shame on the organisers). Sam didn't faulter. Polite to a tee.

Would you believe that Sam had to use the same toilets as the plebs?! Yep, you heard correctly. Shocking work by the organisers. I actually had to desperately pee at one point but waited until I saw Sam come out of the toilets. In-between panels, the actors were staying upstairs in the loft level, and I saw the uber eats delivery man run upstairs to bring them food. The organisers didn't even feed their guests!

Sam is Jamie to these women and he knows it. Starz knows it. I saw the crazed obsession with my own eyes. I saw how his people; his team have shaped him and moulded him(for his public persona) to appeal to these women and this fantasy notion. They want their Jamie. They want single Sam, and that's what they (starz) give them. There is no room for anything else but Single Sam. And Sam professionally obliges. What he puts out to the public at the conventions is scripted and measured. He is very guarded. I could see it unfold in front of me with great clarity. There were women there who didn't want him with Caitriona (they weren't interested in the Caitriona titbits Sam gave), 50 and 60 year old women who actually think they stand a chance. Tragic. Sam is gorgeous and charming and Starz has used that to sell. And quite frankly, after witnessing this display, I can see why he has a fascade going on. I can see why he would want the public completely removed from his personal life and family. I get it.

Another observation of mine, I know this goes without saying, but he is definitely not gay for those who are insistent. He gives off zero gay vibes. He is not effeminate in the slightest, and I found him to be quite more masculine than I'd imagined. He reads people well and can't keep still. What else can I tell you? He has nice skin, piercing blue eyes (like really crystal blue) and exceptionally tall. He does his job very well and has high emotional intelligence. Starz uses his good looks and they pimp him out to the fan base.

Now don't get me wrong, i met lots of lovely women there today who were sweet and kind and exited. But hearing women's conversations at the event; he really is their fantasy. They were squealing and many saying how they wished they could grab his bum or 💋 him. There's no room for Caitriona. Just fantasy Sam.

Odessa says hi Sam 👋...you were a real trooper.

I'll share some more titbits from the panel tomorrow when my splitting headache hopefully dissipates.

#hublander #odessa 2 #melbourne #sam heughan

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harmshake · 1 month

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Roman Reigns x Fem Black Reader | 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut | ~2,800 words

a/n: A request from @reignsxlover that I finally finished. Hope you enjoy. 🥹

Happy reading! Read my other Roman stories here, if you'd like. ✨

There was something savage about signing away your rights to yourself to another. Every part of yourself. Every hair on your head. Every finger on each arm. Even your gaze as your eyes were only for him now. Something savage indeed. And sexy.

You'd met him casually. He was tall and bulky like an athlete but he wore an ash gray suit and black dress shirt beneath it with matching loafers. Roman Reigns, a luxury accountant you came to learn, and he looked anything but casual when he'd come into your job at the café and order the same cappuccino every day. Vanilla, heavy cream, light on the expresso. "Trying to cut back on all that caffeine. Besides, I don't need any help staying up for hours and hours," he informed you one morning when you handed him his coffee.

His voice was always deep, always smooth, and always friendly, albeit a bit haughty. About what, you weren't sure. But you were sure the way his fingers always seemed to graze over yours when he took his drink from you was no mistake.

He left you in a pitiful state each time. His brown eyes were the same deep shade of the Columbian coffee beans in glass jars that lined the counter behind you. Just as strong and potent, too, as they lingered on you long enough to send a rush of warmth through your limbs. That rush made you ashamed because it wasn't like you to crush on customers. And yet it became very much your after-work routine to fantasize of his brown eyes watching you, drinking in the sight of you touching yourself for him, his voice robust with all that bass but so gentle and cooing in your ear...

"Show me how you want me to make you cum, angel...ah, that's it."

"That's the spot? Right there? Do it faster for me...faster."

"Mmm, there you go. You belong to me now, don't you? You'll only cum for me, won't you?"

After a few weeks, it became incredibly difficult to keep eye contact with the man. That was until he spoke after you took his order, "Are you free for dinner? You shouldn't be, beautiful as you are and today being Valentine's..." He paused with a handsome smirk that made your lips quiver with a flattered one. "I think I've bought enough coffee as a ruse to see you. And I'd like to see you tonight."

Oh, god, his eyes. The alluring curve of them as they crinkled with that smirk...the seductive light in them. Holding yours carefully, expectantly. Hypnotic, you were certain as you heard yourself say yes before you considered if you already had plans that evening. Once he handed you his phone to type your number into and left you pitiful and hot with his coffee in his hand and a promise on his pretty lips to pick you up at eight, you remembered you were due at your best friend's for a Galentine's Friday movie night. It would have to be Saturday movie night now.

He texted you an hour after your shift ended, a reminder and a request that you wear something that "makes you feel expensive." It felt like more of a demand from the lack of a question mark at the end of the sentence, but you were inclined to do so as you didn't want to be caught looking homely next to him in his suit you knew he'd be wearing.

A black, silk dress, fitted to the shape of you and showing just enough shoulder and leg to pique his interest but still appear demure and sophisticated. Roman arrived on time in the sportiest car you'd ever seen and told you how beautiful you looked with a kiss on your cheek and a bouquet of red roses to hold to your bosom as you inhaled their scent. He smelled as beautiful as he looked and dinner was just as beautiful, too. Tealights with a golden twinkle illuminated the elegant space. Skinny flutes of champagne. Succulent lobster in the shell and black truffle risotto. That rush of warmth simmered along your skin as you both talked quietly, laughed softly, and gazed at one another intently...but then your eyes focused on a gray manilla folder he slid across the table during dessert.

The chocolate and cherry ganache cake was tempting but not as much as the contents of the folder, his thick eyebrows raising once with a nod for you to open it. You struggled to read what was clearly and gracefully worded on the three sheets of paper. Non-disclosure. Sensual consent and obedience. Submissive at all times. Toys intended for bondage and discipline. Safeword. Your name.

"What the hell is this?" you blurted in a whisper as you read the words again and again. When you glanced up at him with confused and slightly frantic eyes, he sat calmly with his hands coolly clasped together on the table. Those eyes steady, heady, and burning you with that warm rush when his tongue briefly appeared to lick his lips.

"An agreement," he replied simply. He placed a sleek, black pen next to your hand that tried to tremble when you went to flip through the pages again. His name and office details were engraved on it in cursive red. "Should you choose to sign it, and I hope you will, the terms will begin this evening."

"The terms?" You knew what they were. They were printed and bullet-pointed and required your initials next to each. He breathed a little chuckle at your astonishment.

"I won't play coy with you and I prefer you don't, either. I want you. All of you. And you want me, too. Isn't that right?" he asked you back. His voice still so gentle like he knew you needed the coaxing...yet still haughty like he knew you would sign your name all the same. You nodded once but still didn't sign, not then. You weren't quite sure what was stopping you, especially since you never stopped yourself from whimpering his name in the late hours of the night as you made yourself cum and cum fucking good from the thought of being his...

"For how long?" It was the only question you could conjure as when you signed away your body to him, you wanted to know if there would come a day he'd grow bored of you and thought to release you. Roman took a slow sip of his champagne and licked his lips once more as he let his gaze caress a part of you that you didn't even know he could see with your dress on.

Yet your thighs came together underneath the table, a poor attempt to stifle the warmth that gathered and surged there as he declared, "For however long you'd allow me to replace your fingers. I would dedicate my time to satisfying you in the ways you've been craving...the ways you've been needing me to, sweetheart."

You grasped the pen and clicked it, flitting your initials and signature everywhere it was required. The ink bled red, as did the satin sheets of his vast bed. A masterpiece of a suite, his grand and avant-garde bedroom accented with red paintings and floral fragrance from the vases that held more roses, his entire home more akin to a mansion just beyond town near the lush, hilly wilderness where people owned businesses and land. And now he owned you, another piece of art in his possession as you posed on his bed where he'd left you to fetch a few items.

Yet he didn't depart without specific instructions and another kiss on your cheek as he held your chin with agile, thick fingers: "I'll leave you the room to change into what you'll find in the gift bag on the dresser. Have a seat on the bed until I get back. Make yourself comfortable."

You weren't uncomfortable but it was certainly an adjustment. Your bare skin was barely hidden in the crimson, lace lingerie you donned, as well as the red sheer stockings that reached the middle of your thighs all uncovered from the red tissue paper they were carefully wrapped in while inside the golden Lise Charmel bag. How he managed to correctly guess your size for the fabric to hug your body astounded you, but you remembered he was skilled with numbers...

When Roman reappeared through the doorway of the bedroom, he was still in his suit—although missing his jacket and the first couple of buttons of his shirt to reveal his muscled pecs and an elaborate tattoo on his right you had no clue was there—and carrying a small, black gift box in his hands. He placed it on your lap like an offering to you with a low purr, "For you, beautiful."

You pulled off the top to find more red and silk. A blindfold. Two sashes. And a little, glistening glass plug perched in the middle. Your fingertips skimmed along its rose-shaped end, curious how'd it feel inside you, how he'd feel inside you, before your eyes trailed up to the hulking man towering over you and studying you with those eyes that made you hot as he asked, "Do you like them?"

"Do I have a choice?" you inquired in a small voice, half-teasing. He smirked.

"You can use the safeword if you don't." Roman moved the box from your lap to the bed, taking a sash from them to hold in his large hands. He then lightly took your ankles that dangled over the edge of the bed, wrapping the sashes around and lacing them together in a knot that held them together. "How's that feel?"

"Uhm, good..." you whispered as he used the other sash to bind your wrists. Your heart pounded from his touch, so, so agile, and from his captivating gaze as he observed you all tied up on his bed for him to play with...

Those eyes were the last thing you saw before he bound you with the blindfold, joining you on his bed as he lay beside you with his smooth, luscious voice in your ear, "I know when you're by yourself in the middle of the night, you close your eyes and think of me because...I think of you, too."

His lips, just as smooth and luscious, pressed to your throat for a kiss that made you gasp to not know it was coming. "You've thought of how you want me to touch you..."

His hand took his lips' place on your throat, a delicate grasp and another little gasp, as he left a kiss on your collarbone, his warm breath on your skin as he said, "I've thought of how I want to make you cum...and I need you to cum three times, beautiful."

He pulled away then and left you pitiful, as usual, your heart thrumming and your blood rushing with that warmth that made you slick between your thighs. Suddenly, every detail of the room you couldn't see felt explicit. The cool air wafting every so often and lapping at your skin that rose with slight goosebumps. The velvety satin underneath you trying to soothe your excited flesh. The floral aroma mingling with his cologne, intoxicating and intensified by his body heat lingering close. The soft slosh of his wet licks and his hushed moan from delighting in your taste.

His hands on your ass. You on your knees. Panties still on and pushed to the side. The petite plug gently pushed in one little entrance. His tongue hidden in the other beneath it. Your face nearly hidden in the sheets. Your voice rasped with a much louder moan as you delighted in him. Until it was too rapturous.

"Unhh...Roman...please. Please," you choked out, a rasping sob following your words. You clenched around everything, flinched with the pads of his fingertips sweeping along your tender clit, and trembled from the orgasm that wouldn't let go, not when he wouldn't let go, as well. "Coffee."

The safeword. He let you free then but not without a husky, lone whisper, "One."

A minute or two to catch your breath. You heard what sounded like clothes rustling and landing on the floor with soft thuds. Then you felt him shifting you, his silky hair tickling your thighs until they rested on his shoulders. God, he was warm and soft yet traces of fine hair prickled you where your intimate areas nestled together. Your hands shot up to his hard abs, you knew it as you felt your thumb slip along his belly button. You felt him slip inside you then, or at least try to. You were beyond wet, your panties ruined, but he was beyond a size that could enter without small strokes to fit.

But make himself fit he did, no matter your whining, whimpering, and crying his name. Your nails left indents on his skin and you were sure his hands would leave marks on your hips from how he held onto you. Tight and imploring. His thrusts held you the same, stretching and begging you to cum with his insistence to stroke that same spot you often did when you were alone...

"I'm close...faster, p-please."

"Right there, oh, god...Roman."

"Two."

Faster now, for good measure, pounding deep, dripping with your honey, leaving you nowhere to run as he pinned you down, diligent in tapping that spot, threatening to make you tap out.

"Coffee. Fffuuuck. Coffee."

He stopped but he didn't pull out, rather he let you find your breath again as he breathed in a grunt, "Hmm. I hear you, sweetheart. But I need one more from you."

Shifting you again, on your knees again, but he kept you upright. His hands ripped off the soaked fabric in his way before he held you by your breasts this time, wide thumbs circling your nipples until they hardened. His hard flesh entered you from behind, filling you a second time as the glass sat snug within you already, working you with circling thrusts until you felt the blindfold dampen and stick to your cheeks from your tears that it caught.

"Three."

You never came so hard that you cried, but here you were: Gushing down your thighs, staining the sheets, falling to pieces as he held you together, held you put, and held his lips to your throat with kisses that suckled your skin and growled to it as well, "Look at you. Making a mess for me. You'll only cum like this for me...do you understand? No one else, you hear me? You belong to me."

"Yesss, god, yesss."

"Say it."

"I belong to you."

You cried out from his words alone, just as dangerously delicious as he repeated them on your tongue with his kiss, repeated them in the same cadence just as you imagined he would on those lonely nights when you cried for the real thing, for him...

"You belong to me."

You thought to murmur the safeword but he made it hurt so good, too good, digging deeper, faster, until he tugged back and made you murmur instead, "No, please...don't stop."

One last shift, a gentle shove to plant your hands on the bed. You thought his words were delicious but the flavor of him on your lips was, too, as he beckoned your mouth open, filling it with his heavy, veiny length that twitched on your tongue. You wrapped him with it, lured him to your throat with it where he twitched more before his hand cradled the back of your head, fingers sinking into your hair with no push or pull, just trembling need to hold you as he uttered your name with a single moan.

You would have done anything to see how beautiful he looked right then, but your fantasies were likely accurate...his long hair spilling down his shoulders, head thrown back before it lulled forward, full lips slanted with gorgeous groans that sent that rush of heat through you. However, the taste of his heated pleasure rushing down your throat would do...

Once he finally removed your blindfold, you fell onto your back to rest, yet your eyelids fluttered with the dim lighting of his bedroom you sought to find him in. He was next to you with his handsome, curious eyes on you, too. Undoubtedly gauging your response even as you still lay bound and plugged for him. His fingers slowly trailed up your belly, making you shudder in your silk, meeting your chin that he cupped. "Wondering if I should untie you. Yet if I recall, you told me not to stop, sweetheart."

You thought of the terms of your agreement that you read and reread...and thought of the aftercare it outlined should you choose it. Hot baths and massages. Pampering facials and manicures. Gourmet meals and sweets. Or mere cuddling until you fell asleep.

"I'm yours. Do what you want with me, baby..."

50 Shades of Red

Thanks for reading! ❤️

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#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x you #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x reader #black writers #spilled ink

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vinelark · 19 days

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what r some fics that shaped your psyche? you have so many good recs im currently rereading the to an athlete dying young series

hello! you sent me this ask ages ago and i've been meaning to get to it ever since. (it took me so long to answer that i'm sure you've reread to an athlete dying young by @sonosvegliato many times over by now but hell yeah, what a good one.)

these are a few fics--dc and beyond--that have been in my "in case of emergency" epub folder (aka fics i want to have on hand immediately to reread on bad days, or good days, or even average days) for a few years now. so here is an extremely incomplete list of fics that have shaped my psyche!

for dc specifically--if i tried to list all of them i would just end up repeating my whole fic rec tag, so these are just a few of the ones i read when i was getting into this fandom that stayed with me/made me want to seek out more for these characters:

📸 surveillance series by @smilebackwards

this series located the tim drake center of my brain and lit it up like the vegas strip.

🎒 like a hinge, like a wing by @bonesbuckleup

one of my go-to rereads for pangs; chapter one is a masterclass in tension. also, one of my favorite pre-robin tim pov fics of all time.

💻 nominal by @unpretty

"you don't get it, batman is a comedy" --conversation i've had with multiple people using this fic as my thesis statement.

🌃 the jingle jangle morning by @audreycritter

the moment somebody in my vicinity says "i love dick grayson" i'm on their doorstep with this fic url.

🚉 a meditation on railroading by @eggmacguffin

there's a moment in this fic known among my friends as "baby wipes jason" and it has successfully converted no less than three people to the fandom.

and then for non-dc fic:

🌌 atlas by @megafaunatic (mdzs & tgcf)

did i read this before i had a single clue who the characters were? yes. did i return to it once i did and lose my mind a little? yes. lore etymologyplayground writes that “so so so in love and pining so hard the lines between us are blurring and we haven’t made a move yet but it’s inevitable” flavor with such a deft hand; it is in fact called the lorezone. if any friends-to-lovers pining i write can achieve even 50% of a lorezone i will have done my job.

🪿 If they caught you by @feyburner (tgcf)

i go back to this when i think about setup and payoff, when i think about subtle misdirects, when i think about the monumental task of creating whole compelling new characters in 6k words.

🧪 away childish things by lettered (hp)

one of the best de-aging trope stories i've ever read; i think of this when i want to take a trope to its maximum potential and then go: no wait, there's even more.

(another fav de-aging fic is grow by @cafecliche; shorter plot but no less pangs 🌱)

🏡 in defiance of all geometry by @idiopath-fic-smile (les mis)

a fic that's a perfect reread when i need something cozy and full of character, and a perfect touchstone when i'm pondering something where the world may not hang in the balance but the stakes still matter.

📔 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (cql/mdzs)

paragon of metahumor, basically. i think of this when i want to write something that's funny in both text and form.

🍚 and his wanting grows teeth by @yuebings (cql/mdzs)

masterclass in pangy backstory reveal; the way the first scene loops back around to punch you in the gut long after you've forgotten it will forever be seared into my brain.

also, most answers on this list fit the bill!

(apologies again that this answer is so belated; it took me ages to write up partially because i kept stopping to reread these fics every time i tried.)

#also sorry for not having any consistent formatting in my reclists #i tagged authors whose tumblrs i know/are linked to ao3! happy to remove the tag if anyone prefers #fic rec #asks #batfam

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thegenxpointofview · 1 year

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Over 50 fitness: Can you build muscle mass in your 50’s?

The answer is yes you can, but with caveats. As men age the master hormone Testosterone decreases. Now the caveat here is your starting point. Its universally accepted that testosterone drops as you age but there is no universally accepted starting point there is a range. So if you start at the lower range through your adult life it’s going to be that much harder when you hit your…

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#building muscle #Men&039;s Issues #Over 50 Fitness #Self Improvement #Staying in shape over 50 #working out

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 5 months

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I saw this

https://youtu.be/LGMIJ-UWnZY

And thought it'd be hilarious for some reactions/headcanons from twisted wonderland characters as reader and a friend or someone drink ridiculous amounts of eggnog (if eggnog isn't good then a similar heavy beverage) while they kinda just act silly. Just absolutely losing their minds as they try to out eggnog their competitor. Whether their competitor/friend is one of the characters from twisted wonderland or just some fellow is up to you. Honestly, i just like how you write and want to read more so it doesn't even have to be twisted wonderland. I'm really not that particular about the fandom or which characters you choose cause i like em all and i just wanna read more of your writing cause it's really good

No pressure of course, it's just a silly little thought

I really appreciate that! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Drinking Games | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

This whole scenario sounds like the work of a certain idiot-duo

Getting ahold of Twisted Wonderland’s version of eggnog

Supposedly the grossest thickest most disliked drink they could get their hands on

And then hosting a competition to see who could drink the most of it

“And what do we get if we beat ya?”

“A….full week spent in Ramshackle….Unsupervised!”

“I didn’t agree to that!”

“That’s…an appealing prize.”

“One I didn’t agree to!”

“I ACCEPT THIS CHALLENGE!”

“I DIDN’T APPROVE OF THIS AT ALL!”

First years only it’s already worrisome because more than likely than not they get real competitive

And they have a hard time knowing when to stop

“Um do you guys maybe want to…take a break? You’re all looking a little green in the face.”

“BURP! NEVER…Oh I just–I CAN HANDLE ANOTHER.”

“Please…I got this! Slide that cup on over!”

“Y’all abuncha snowflakes can’t handleagallon o’ ‘is if ya tried!”

“This calls for an intense work out…..later. BRAP! Sorry.”

“Ugh…..”

“This stuff is gross Nya! I’d much rather have a big bowl of milk!”

Imagine how much worse it gets when the dormheads find out

They’ll scold them

And then turn right around and have too much evidence that they have a higher record than the others

“I’m only showing you if anyone should have such a prize it would go to me.”

“Because you have records that you had 50 cups?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks Riddle but I wasn’t actually going to let anyone stay over.”

“Hmmm I wonder if the more unruly will actually listen to your wishes?”

Sigh ”Don’t remind me! Floyd’s been telling me he’ll move himself in any day now.”

“Tsk. It would probably best to have me over than….just to protect your peace of course.”

It’s best to ‘reward all of them in some way shape or form

Otherwise you’ll just have to get used to being dragged and possibly made the prize of competitions you had no idea was happening

“Hooray!”

“Uh hi Lilia you look happy.”

“Of course I am! I won your entire weekend with our wreath making contest.”

“Wait what?!”

“I was thinking we’ll start with a picnic, then we can jam with the band, and then I can go through your closet!”

Usually things won’t get too violent…..usually

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cookiepie111 · 8 months

Text

࿐Drink from the leche of sirens࿐

Synopsis - An injury könig comes across a lake and pretty nymph. Greek au könig x black nymph reader. No minors. Smut

Part 2 here

A/N-

An alternate to the fountain girl fic I wrote.

Think this might be the longest thing I've written. There is a Pinterest mood board here. Shout out to @cinnamonbunboii cause their comment inspired this fic. Please like and reblog!

Tags: @terra-713 @cinnamonbunboii @kneelingshadowsalome @bucca2

𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼

Deities are petty beings, twisting the hearts of humans when things don't go their way. König and his army may have won the battle but the casualties were high, he himself was beat and bruised. Its just a game to them and what do you do when you're losing and angry, you flip out, over turn the board and scatter the pieces. Think of a new way to win while your opponent garthers up their fallen pieces.

Scattered by the wind, what a cliche but it works, in all the commotion the soldiers were separated, placed in every which direction, on land, and both above and below the heavens. How petty all this because you lost. Somehow this wasn't the worst part of könig's day just the final cherry on top the shitty Sunday the gods gave him. His lover betrayed him, separated from his allies, battered and bruised and now there's nothing around him but trees. If not for the situation and burning rage in his heart he'd find the place quite peaceful, beautiful even, a nice place to die.

The deeper könig went into the forest the more the atmosphere changed, trees bend and shift, covering the sky above. The slow dance of leaves and bright glow of the fireflies. All of it leading up to a lake in the clearing. It all felt too to unnatural to be real, like sweet honey leading him a trap. Pressing into the wound at his side, the sharp pain brought him back to his senses, this isn't the place to lose one's mind he'd need to keep his wits about him if he wanted to live.

Even if he doesn't want to accept it there's no denying this would be a beautiful place to die. Even now he hates himself for still thinking of her, even at the moment of his death she still has place in his mind. she'd love this place, a backdrop like this would only accentuate her beauty more.

He walked close to the lake feeling the trees shift around him again. Laying back on the trees bark sword placed on the ground.

The waters surface ripples altering könig to the figure in the lake, its shape he couldn't quite make out. A head, a person maybe. This place could be cursed, it wouldn't surprise him. He stares back never removing his eyes from them watching as they stay just below the water.

If he's intruded on some beings land they'll just have to put up with him or force him out. He's got enough strength for one last fight. It is after all the way of the warrior to go out fighting he thinks, unsteady as he pushes off the tree bark.

You can't remember the last time you saw another human here, they often end up with your older sister although you doubt they've all been this large and imposing. Even injured he carries himself very well. The cut in his stomach only causing him to hunch over, you doubt the blood covering him is his own.

Once at the water's edge the thoughts of battle quickly die down. It a woman in the water, human she is not but a woman still. The skin of human women doesn't glow or shine. Their skin isn't adorned with scales of greans and blue hues around their eyes nor does their hair shift and swirl like small currents atop the waters surface like yours. No those features that were that of nymph. Women of nature blessed with great beauty. And unfortunately for könig drowners of men.

His odds are about 50/50 he wouldn't drown so easily but that wasn't a risk he wanted to take, with his body is failing him now, heavy breaths as he falls back to the ground. Eyes still on the nymph at his front, she makes no move, just watching.

It takes a few moments for her to move a few more heavy breaths and groans from könig for her to lift from the water.

When she comes out to meet him she bare. Thin pieces of fabric dropping over her waist and chest slipping under her right breast, past her womanhood, more like an accessory one would add cause they thought it looked nice than a piece of clothing. Thick curly hair swirling around her body

To think he could still get hard at a time like this.

Drowning doesn't seem so bad now if it is by her hand.Maybe a kiss from them would send him peaceful into the afterlife.

She stood over him head tilling side from side,trying to figure the man out. He hasn't said anything, he doesn't shout or draw his sword like the other men she's seen. He's also taller, bigger, more.... solid than other men, gracing a hand down his arm. Kneeling beside him, the injury is worse than she thought. did one of the gods bring him here? Or did he just wonder here himself? You held your chin swaying on your heels deep in thought

König felt delirious, he's injured, lost and now there's a pretty nymph circling round, staring, pocking and prodding at him. If this was any other situation he'd take her in the moment. Hull her over his shoulder and fuck her till scream or blesses him, gives him heavenly children. But he's tired and weak, he can do nothing but watch as she frees his egear cock from his tunic.

He's never felt like this before, grunting and wincing under her touch. He's sure she's sucking the energy out of him. Maybe its the bloodloss maybe it the fire at the groin the licking and kissing along his shaft causing the dizziness in him, eyes shut tight and panting as he comes closer to the edge but the release never comes. feeling her tongue stroke the entire length of him as she comes up.

The next moment for könig were pure bliss, something straight out of dream. To have her now Straddling him bouncing so eagerly on his cock, was a feeling he could never forget. The sweet stretch as she sank. It was frustrating not being able to touch her, She didn't move fast enough not for könig liking. He was too weak to set the pace, his hand only able to rest on the plush of her hip. Even if she used him like a toy könig couldn't help but throw his head back in pleasure at the squeeze of her soft walls.

Her hands explored the body under her, digging into the wounds, ignoring his hisses and complaints, pushing him back down before he finds the strength to push her off. It felt hot then numb, as she dug into his wounds.

With new found strength he bucked his hips, against her. The sound of their love making filling the forest air, his hands firmly at her hips to move her at a pace he found fit, fast and messy before emptying himself inside her.

When he finally came back down from the high he finds her form shake and ripple above him. The words die on his tongue, as her form melts down, and fades away into the water

He gets up able without stumbling this time walking straight finding himself back at the army base. König's honestly not sure if that really happened or if he was just crazy. He has nothing to show for the whole ordeal to prove it was real. He knows on the brink of the death the mind can conger all sorts of things to keep one alive but nothing could explain sleeping with a water nymph. he'd like to think he wasn't deranged...To imagine sleeping with being that would normally drown you but...

The only evidence he had was his body. The open wound in his stomach gone, his whole body intact even stronger than before. He'll think about this alot after wondering if you were really real. It would be best to get you out of his mind. Yet he sees you in the lakes and bodies of water and in the faces of women passing him by

You on the other hand couldn't believe your luck! Showing off the keepsake you'd got from the soldiers.

Red bracelet shining under the sun as you turned it on your wrist to show off to your sisters. Giggling and splashing round the waters edge. You're so lucky such a strong and handsome man!

"Wow what's his name".... "You did get his name right???" ... you didn't get his name. You didn't get his name! And honestly you're not sure which army he's with you can't tell the difference between the armours

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kkami-writes · 8 months

Text

waiting for us — chapter thirty eight. cat cafe

cw. mention of a bruise/implied domestic abuse wc. 631 + 4 SS

You and Minho had agreed to meet up at the cafe since you had a early shift at love stay. Of course he had wanted to pick you up but had only relented when you insisted that you’d really enjoy the short walk. You had agreed to let him take you to work for the rest of the week though.

He was sat at a table already waiting for you when you walked in, the tiniest smile curling at his lips at the sight of you. Perhaps he had got there a little early, maybe just a little excited to be having some alone time with you. Not that he would ever admit that.

Minho waves you over and you make your way to him, sliding into the seat right across from him at the small table.

“Hi Min,” You greet him softly and he would have been happy at the nickname but his lips curl into a slight frown. He can see what looks like a purple bruise high on your cheekbone. It seems like you’ve tried to cover it with makeup but part of your foundation has wiped away from your shift. Minho so desperately wants to ask what happened, why you were hurt, but he knew the odds you’d actually answer him were low. Despite only meeting you a handful of times he already knew you would just deflect, trying to not make a big deal out of it. You were just like him in that way. He let’s it go because the last thing he wants to do is ruin the date by asking.

So he takes a deep breath, cooling his expression before you can notice. Minho can’t deny the immediate anger at the thought of someone hurting you. Someone as precious as you.

“Hey Kitten,” Minho takes so much pride in the way your cheeks flush. You were sure these boys were going to be the death of you.

The two of you order drinks, a caramel macchiato for you and a latte for Minho. Both drinks came with cute cat art on the top and you find it cute that Minho just has to take a picture for a keepsake. You also order some paw shaped cookies. They taste pretty good but you can’t help but think that a certain fairy boy could make something even better.

Eventually the two of you find yourselves on the floor, playing with the cats in the cafe. Several cats have crowded around Minho, head butting him softly for attention. You coo and take several pictures, sending them to the group chat. You’re surprised that the cats have flocked to him, but at the same time you’re pretty sure they can tell that he’s one of them.

On the flip side, Minho can’t help but watch you as you sit in the corner, with one of the black cats, a cat toy in your hand as you play with the kitty. That signature small smile graces his features as he watches you. Would it be too much to ask you if you want to be the mother to his own cats? Which reminded him that he had to tell you all about his babies. Minho sneaks his own pictures of you to retaliate as he also sends them to the group chat, the boys instantly cooing over you.

As he watches you he can’t help but feel complete, so content. While he knows you’re still getting used to them, 8 soulmates can be overwhelming, Minho still feels like you fit in so perfectly with them. The missing puzzle piece they’ve been looking for, for such a long time. And now that you were here he promised himself that he wasn’t going to let you go. Not if he could help it.

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itsvaleriesucka · 4 months

Text

forbidden love

pairing: demon!joel miller x angel!fem reader

rating: explicit 18+ (minors dni)

word count: 3.1k

summary: you and joel lovingly spend the rest of the afternoon together in your room. things began to get steamy.

warnings: sex, kissing, smoking, unprotected p in v, cock riding, oral sex (m!receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, light choking, age gap (50s/20s), no use of y/n, no outbreak

a/n: my love for demons and angels will always have a special place in my heart. i seriously need demon joel in my life. this is the only way to fulfill this fantasy of mine. i hope you like it! i have other stories in mind that i would like to write soon so stay tuned. please do not read if you’re sensitive to any of these topics. you have been warned.

The dark ambience of sounds coming from your Crosley record player touches a comfortable feeling deep inside your aching heart. The sound escaping lingered throughout the atmosphere of your own room. The aroma of expensive perfume and cigarettes fills the air and into your nostrils on this peaceful afternoon.

Your cherry red almond nails did their little dance across Joel’s tousled salt and pepper hair, feeling every soft strand there is. You both layed in bed beside each other heavenly. Your right leg wrapped and pressed against his lower body, skin bear and visible from your mini white lace slip gown you decided to wear. Your eyes lingered all across his handsome facial features. He’s perfect and he is everything to you.

His strong arm wraps around you, his hand and fingers soothing your soft skin on that bare thigh of yours. He draws you in closer, a feeling he did not want to let you go. With such a feeling, you pulled yourself away and positioned yourself above him, both legs locked and pressed against the sides of his hips. You sat gently upon his lap. You felt Joel’s large hands grip your hips to keep you in place. His thumb softly rubs against your hip bones in a circular motion.

Both of your hands press themselves against his bare broad chest. Your eyes wandered each of his scars he’s had over the past years. Joel reached beside your nightstand to grab his cigarette that’s placed on a red heart shaped ashtray that was handmade by you. Staring at the piece of work, you already remembered you took him to a ceramics studio on one of your dates with him when you both were starting out.

You and Joel are the total opposites. You take him to cute and fun places while he takes you to places that are, well, questionable and odd. He’s mature and you’re young. He wears black and you wear white. He’s a demon and you’re an angel.

Just the thought of a holy and unholy being together made the corner of your lips to curl downward into a frown. You felt your own stomach turn. You were so calm and content seconds ago and now you’re suddenly feeling sad. You tried not to reveal your emotions by forcing yourself to smile and looking away to distract yourself. You felt a tear drop escape from the outer corner of your eyes. You felt the liquid stream down against your cheek. You quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand but it was no use, Joel can already sense there was something wrong, even before you managed a frown.

“What’s the matter, angel?” Aside from being an actual angel, it’s indeed a lovely nickname for you. You always adored the way it draws out from him with that southern accent that sounded as pure as honey can taste.

“Nothing.” You watched the excess smoke from his Lucky Strike cigarette he inhaled, exhale through his nostrils, filling the air in your room. Joel quirked a brow. He kept his expression as stoic as usual. He wasn’t buying that pity answer from you.

“Bullshit.” His eyes analyzed every single expression you gave off.

Fine. He wins.

“For a moment I thought about the opposites of you and I. Our kind being together…It’s forbidden…” you softly remarked. Already reminding yourself of the bigger books and the higher Gods. You completely detest yourself for ruining a precious moment between you two. You wanted to vanish in thin air right now. All you could try to concentrate on was the music that played in the background to numb your thoughts.

Joel rubbed the tip of his cigarette against the ashtray to put it out. He sat himself up while still holding you in place against his lap. You felt his fingers gently pinch the sides of your jawline. He wanted you to look at him and you did.

“I don’t care about that,” Joel pulls you in closer, his gaze never leaving your precious face, “I care about you.” You felt his other hand rubbing small circles against your lower vertebrae to calm you down.

You knew he did. Despite who he truly is, you knew he wasn’t lying. Your mind was anxious and filled with fear of what can happen but your heart says otherwise. You cupped both his cheeks and felt his lips press against the palm of your delicate hand. You lean forward to press your lips against his, never pulling away. His mustache tickled your upper lip which made you smile from the sensation.

Your rushed thoughts were silenced when you felt his tongue slide across your bottom lip. You part your lips, allowing his tongue to explore inside your mouth. You brushed your tongue against his tongue and it felt delicious. It felt delicious to be kissed by the devil. To Joel, it felt amazing to caress and taste an innocent angel such as yourself.

You managed to pull away from his kiss and released a low sigh trying to catch your breath. Both foreheads pressed together. The smell of coffee and cigarette lingers from him. You felt his hot breath against your cheeks when he decided to plant kisses along your jawline down to your neck. You whined at the feeling of his teeth nibbling your sensitive spot against the soft flesh of your neck and your collarbone. You pushed your hips forward against his lap as your reaction to ease a certain tension that began to stir in between your inner thighs. The sudden friction caused his cock to twitch underneath his black boxers.

As much as you needed him, he needed you. You did not hesitate to remove yourself from Joel’s lap and positioned yourself on your knees. Joel knew exactly the kind of move you were about to make so he sat himself up. He watched the hesitancy of your movements. How those soft hands gently rubbed the fabric that covered his growing erection. He lightly hummed at the gentle movement.

Joel did not hesitate to assist you by guiding your hand into the fly of his boxers, allowing you to touch him as you please. You gripped his thick cock and slowly worked your wrist to start a burning sensation in his core as you stroked his cock willingly. His throat vibrated from a satisfactory groan he released. You removed his large cock from his fly and watched as his precum dripped down, from his pink tip that swelled, against his length landing upon your hand.

You brought your hand and licked the precum off your thumb and index finger. Joel grins at your insatiable desire. That naughty glint within his eyes began to shine. You lowered yourself close to his erection.

“Open that pretty mouth of yours.” He commands and you obliged instantly. You part your mouth and shivered at the feeling of his cock brushing precum all over your plump lips. You kissed his tip, allowing a string of his precum stretch in between. You languidly licked your bottom lip to obtain the salty taste. You lean yourself further more to shove his cock inside your mouth. You felt your mouth slowly becoming full. Cheeks hollow. Your taste buds swell to form excess saliva from the taste of his skin.

It was a natural instinct to breathe through your nostrils from the absurd gesture. You tried not to choke but yet you always do for how large and thick he is. You should know better. You felt your cunt lightly clench at the sensation. Your core was starting a fire on its own.

“You look so beautiful like this f’me.” Words that almost sounded like whispers slipped past his mouth as he brushed your hair with his fingers, petting you. You hummed in return to his compliment that his cock, again, twitched at the sudden vibration. With his hand still pressed upon your head, Joel wasted no time and lowered his boxers down, along with your head further down. He wanted the tip to touch the back of your throat. He wanted your mouth full of his entire length.

“Good girl…” he praised and you released a broken groan, almost choking. Your tongue danced along his shaft. He tastes just so damn good that your saliva mixed with his precum is already dripping down past your chin. You managed to follow his rhythm by bobbing your head at a steady pace. You’ve done this so many times and every single time it just keeps getting better and better. Your eyes fluttered shut in order to concentrate. Your hums mixed with soft melodies from your record player tune perfectly together.

Your right hand squeezed his shaft, stroking him firmly while your other hand worked their magic by massaging his balls. If Joel always makes you feel good, he deserves the attention of feeling good as well.

“Fuck,” the demon cursed and thrust his hips forward. He pushes your head further down to the point your nose rubbed against his happy trail and saliva that splattered across. You gagged at the sudden reflex of his cock shoved deep down into your throat. Your eyes watered and trailed down each side of your cheeks. Your cunt kept clenching, begging for more. “You filthy slut…”

The way he called you a filthy slut made you giggle. You felt butterflies form inside the pit of your stomach. Don’t get yourself wrong, you are indeed a good holy being. You always do the nicest things for mankind and try to help out in the darkest of times. But when you’re alone with Joel, it seems like you’re nothing but his devil woman.

You brought yourself to pull away from his cock, trying to catch your own breath. You opened your mouth to release all that excess saliva that mixed with his own juices right upon his cock, lubricating him like the good angel you are. Your small hand now glides easily against him. Wet and sloppy. “I love being your filthy slut.”

The way Joel’s pupils are nothing but wide and filled with lust with such an obscene gesture and words leaving past your lips was a sight to witness. He knows you don’t curse, but in bed, you miraculously do. And he fucking loves it too.

“C’mere,” Joel shoves you towards himself, he wanted you to sit on his lap and so you did. Your breasts pressed against his chest. You felt fingertips tickling on each side of your thighs as he lifts the end of your white mini slip gown to remove the garment completely off of you. You were left in nothing but your white lace undergarment. How cute, it even has a tiny cross pendant that adorned underneath a tiny silk bow. He chuckled darkly at the sight. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ride me.”

You nodded your head so fast that you probably should be ashamed of yourself. You bite your bottom lip to refrain your contentment. You can feel your blood circulating towards your cheeks becoming warm and hot, flustered even.

Using his index and middle finger, he hooked your damp panties that covered your sensitive cunt and pulled them aside. You can feel your own cunt coming in contact with the skin of his fingers. A shiver ran up and down your spine at his touch. His low humming was a pleasant melody to your ears. You lightly gasped at the sudden touch of his thumb pressing your swollen clit. Joel began to rub circular motions and watched how your body reacts. He knows you all too well, he just loves how your body twitches by the devil’s touch.

“There we go…” he murmurs while focusing on that sweet spot of yours that is beginning to cause his mouth to water. Joel can feel his own erection twitch again with anticipation. His eyes fixated upon yours the entire time. He was prepping you for his cock that ached to be sucked inside of you.

“That feels so g-good.” You softly moaned and placed your index knuckle in between your teeth to refrain from moaning out loud. The walls surrounding your room were rather dense that you can sometimes hear certain conversations from other neighbors. Eyes fluttered shut in order to concentrate on the way his calloused thumb skillfully flicks and rubs your clit.

“Yeah?” He purrs and pressed your clit harder. His thumb wandered towards your folds to then wet your sweet clit with your own juices to make rubbing easier. Joel smacks your hand away from your mouth which caught you by surprise. “I want to hear you, angel. Don’t be shy and let it all out f’me. Besides…” He brushes his thumb upon your wet swollen lips and you amorously suck your own taste off, releasing his thumb with a pop. A low hum vibrating from your throat, “…I want the neighbors to hear how good you’re ridin’ me.”

You felt his angry tip poke your entrance that glistened with your own natural lubricant. You are forced to lift yourself up to allow more room for his cock to comfortably slip inside of you. His fingers still hooking the fabric aside. You gasped as your jaw became slack at the way his thick length slowly stretched your inner walls. You watch as his cock slowly sinks and disappears into your aching entrance. As mentioned, you have done this plenty of times but his cock never fails to make you gasp every time at the sudden stinging sensation of the stretch. It’s bizarre.

Joel chuckled darkly and began to thrust himself into you. He needed you to adjust to his length comfortably before anything else. The moment you feel comfortable, you sway your hips forward and backwards, soon bouncing freely against him. You felt every inch of his cock rubbing your warm stretched walls. The way the tip of his cock hits your cervix has your head spinning. Sweet moans and squeals escape past your lips. The lewd sounds of both your precum secreting together echoes.

Your arms wrap around his neck for support while his arms wrap around your waist, holding, guiding, and encouraging you to milk his cock deep. The sight of your own breasts bouncing to the rhythm and movement intoxicates Joel’s arousal. He did not hesitate to pinch and tease your hardened nipples. The pain enticing your mood.

“Oh fuck right there, yes!” You cried as you continued to ride his cock. The way you grind against his lap got you both drowning in arousal. Skin tacky from the sudden heat mixed with sweat forming within you both. With each harsh thrust, oxygen hitches away from your lungs. It honestly felt like he was punching a hole inside of you. But the way his cock feels doing so was absolutely divine.

“You’re doin’ so well baby girl.” You earned yourself a tight squeeze from both his hands that managed to slide down toward your ass. You smiled at his encouragement. He took the opportunity to plant another kiss upon your lips. His teeth nipping against your bottom lip, pulling the flesh teasingly.

“It feels so good, mmm, I need you…” You moaned into Joel’s mouth. You were too carried away pecking his lips a dozen times to finish your sentence. He slows his pace, wanting to hear the right words come out.

“You need…?” He breathes and groans all against your pretty mouth. The way you paused from bouncing and focused on grinding against his lap ferociously while his cock stuck deep inside was driving him mad. In a matter of seconds he was going to spill his sticky seed.

“Cum inside me…p-please.” You begged and bat your eyes towards him, your doe eyes that were filled with nothing but inevitable lust told him everything he needed to know. The perfect green light but yet he still managed to tease the shit out of you, as per usual.

“Mmm, don’t know about that.” He murmured as he paints a wicked grin across his face. The way your brows furrowed with a frustrated expression actually amused him. “C’mon…please…”

A cry that seriously turned him on even more. To your sudden surprise, Joel switched positions where your back instantly touches your mattress. He grips your ankles and brings your legs up to hold you good. He removed your precious panty and tossed it somewhere behind him. You were too flooded with mixtures of sin and lust that all you were able to do was toggle a lazy wiggle from your hips, encouraging him to stick his cock back inside of you as quickly as possible. And so he did.

Joel buries his cock deep inside of you and begins to roughly pound his hips against the back of your thighs, obtaining that tantalizing pace. You huff with each rhythm of his smack trying to fight back a moan but to no avail. It is certain that your neighbors can already hear your glorious cries. You’re too horny to even be embarrassed at this point. They were so sweet, so angelic which always drives Joel insane. He enjoyed stripping away your innocence. Always.

“Look at you angel, takin’ this cock so well. Such a fuckin’ good girl. ” You felt nothing but a tight hand wrapped around your neck. His hand. All you could see were only stars, you began to feel dizzy. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

You began to feel your climax almost pooling in. “Yes! Oh fuck…Joel! Baby, I’m gonna cum!” To help with that, you arched your back so that his cock can rub against that aching g-spot of yours.

Just by his cock hitting your favorite spot had caused you to overstimulate. You frantically released your final loud moan that ringed against his ears. You felt like the earth had stopped spinning once that orgasm came crashing over your entire body that exploded into a blissful sensation. Your cunt clenching around his thick cock caused Joel to collapse right above you, spilling his load right inside of you coaxing a heavy groan against your ear. The warming sensation of his cum seeping inside eased your body. You thrust your hips forward to obtain that final aftershock.

You felt Joel’s cock pulling right out of you along with some of his cum spilling out from your sore entrance. He laid right beside you to try and catch his breath. Rolling yourself, you stopped right on top, embracing him with a hug, never wanting to let him go.

“Like I said, I don’t care what anyone thinks.” Joel kisses the side of your head, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.” You lovingly whispered.

You earned yourself a warm smile from the devil. A smile only you’re able to witness alone. “Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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