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c0llisiion · 4 months

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NUMB TO THE FEELING : Sex Tape — J.jk

★pairing : jeon jungkook + fem!reader

★genre : smut

★: not proof read! idol!readerandjk, mean dom!jk , sub!reader , whiney!jk , slight anal play, fellacio, recording, pda maybe? , unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it.) doggy, hair pulling , name calling - lmk if i missed any!

★W/C: 1,647

Pt.1 , Pt.3 [ can be read as a stand alone but I recommend reading the first part!]

A/N: HELLOOOO im back lololol this took sometime but i hope you like it! Not proof read btw! So there might be a lot of mistakes! PLSSSS EXCUSE ITTTT!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Jungkook was quick to capture your lips as you finished licking up his salty cum. His tongue forcefully entered your mouth. Hunger was laced all over the kiss. You involuntarily climbed onto his lap as the kiss deepened. Your hands holding his head as his hands started removing your now drenched shorts. You gave him the liberty and started leaving soft hickies on his neck. He held your neck in his grasp and pulled you away. You whined and he pressed the sides of your neck gently before speaking up. “Go get your polaroid. Now.” He commanded and you nodded like a good girl before rushing into your closet to get the polaroid he bought for you.

When you returned you saw jungkook sitting on the edge of your bed, stroking his hardening cock. His clothes were discarded. God he looked so hot. You walked up to him and handed the polaroid, immediately kneeling infront of his crotch as he turned on the polaroid.

You rested your forearms on his thighs, bringing your face closer to his dick, licking up from the underside to his tip, capturing the aching head in your mouth. Jungkook hissed and kept the polaroid beside him, finally giving you the attention. “Ngh-.. you are such a good girl..” he said while bringing the camera back to his vision. “Smile for the camera baby..” and you shamelessly did. You smiled widely with his dick in your mouth. “Perfect..” he mumbled, seeing the pretty picture of you finally appear. He kept them aside and grabbed your head, thrusting in harshly. You choked and gagged at the sudden action. He pushed your head down till your nose hit his base, pulling your head back up after a few seconds, watching as drool slip from your mouth. You gave him your puppy eyes and a small pout.

“Sorry baby..” he giggled before guiding your head back on his dick. “You are just so fucking irresistible.” He said while dragging your mouth all over his length. His grip on your hair tightened as your throat spasmed around his thick length. He pulled your head back and you let out a loud gasp and coughed, finally getting the chance to breathe. He grabbed you by your chin, forcefully making you look up at him. You stared into his eyes with your doe ones. A soft yet hard slap landed on your cheek before jungkook kissed your forehead.

Jungkook pulled you up on your feet by your hair and was quick to throw you onto the bed. Your face fell flat on the soft mattress, your ass jiggled at the impact, and on full display for jungkook. He stood at the foot of the bed and grabbed your ankles, pulling you closer to him. A harsh spank landed on your ass, a signal for you to get into your position. you obliged, very well knowing what he wanted at that moment. You felt the bed dip on one side as jungkook reached over to grab his phone. You heard the record button sound and before you could comprehend, jungkook was spreading your one of your ass cheeks, the camera focusing on your dripping wet cunt. He groaned at the site of your cunt clenching and unclenching. “Mind spreading that beauty for me more,baby?” Your hands immediately reached behind, grabbing the fatty flesh in your grasp and spreading it open for jungkook to get a perfect view of your perfect pussy. “Thats right…” he groaned as he dragged his middle and ring finger up and down your glistening slit. You moaned at the sensation. “That shit turning you on baby? Wait till i give you this dick…fucckkk-“ he said as his fingers dipped into your soaking wet pussy. Soft squelchs were audible and you squeezed around his thick fingers. He curled his fingers into your gspot which made you gasp and moan out loud. He knew exactly where to touch you. He chuckled darkly at your sounds. He pulled his fingers out spreading your wetness over your pussy lips and hole. You felt something warm drip down from your hole and to your pussy, jungkooks spit. “Extra lube..!” He chuckled once again. You let out a loud whine, getting tired of his foreplay. “Mhmmm…i hear you sweetheart” he says while continuing to tease both of your holes, fingers threatening to dip into one of them. “Jungkookie….” You whine out again hoping this time he will give you his dick. “Alright alright…”. His tip pokes at your entrance. “Shits still tight.. gaah-“ he chokes at as he pushes into your sopping cunt. You moan loudly as he keeps pushing himself into you. Its been a while since you got pounded by this giant. “Please..please..please…fuckkkk” you kept babbling nonsenses as he bottomed out in you. A loud gasp left both of your mouths. Jungkook finding it hard to focus his camera on your pussy as the feeling of you wrapped around him takes over. He collects himself up before slowly moving in and out of you. The camera focusing on how your ass ripples every time you come in contact with his pelvis. His unoccupied hand on your lower back, guiding your hips back and worth. The pace starts off slow. Bunch of ‘fucks’ ‘oh yeahs’ and Moans were thrown around the room as your pussy spasmed around his length.

Jungkook leaned over again, placing the camera on the nightstand, balancing it on the lamp placed on table. In this new pov everything could be seen. Your perfect back arch and fucked face was on full display and most importantly the new angle showed how good he fucked you. His hips picked up pace. Hands now gripping your waist tightly. Your head was resting in your arms, eyes rolling back as he kept fucking into you. He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled your head back,as he leaned forward. Your eyes and his meet, he kissed your forehead as his pace started increasing. You stared up at him as he went in and out of your pussy in an inhumane speed. Loud gasps and choked out moans were leaving your mouth. “Feel good baby yeah? You like it when i fuck you like this dont you? How many people have fucked you after me huh? No one. I know. Cus you are my cockslut. My fucking pussy. Only for mine to breed and wreck. Got that baby? Can your dumb little whore brain understand that?” He was telling nonsense at this point and you just nodded at his words. “Fuckkkkkk…..-“ you let out a loud moan. “Thats right… moan louder bitch. Im gonna make you cry on this cock, thats the only thing you’re fit for.” He says before pushing your head down with his hand. Tears and drool started staining your pillows as he got faster and his thrusts got harder. Jungkook himself was a moaning mess, as your pussy sucked him in and out he couldn’t contain in his sounds. Incoherent words left his mouth nonstop which just turned you on even more. His pace slowed down a bit, before grabbing you by the nape of your neck. His hand wrapped around your neck tight, as he made you face the camera. “Look into the camera baby.. yeah thats right.. show them how fucked up i got you… you just love bouncing on my dick dont you love?” your eyes were tears stained and there was drool all over your face. Bangs sticking to your sweaty forehead and eyes not being able to focus on anything else but just jungkooks dick. He kissed your forehead again and kept fucking you into the mattress. His phone was able to capture the way your face contorted every time he thrusted into you. Your mouth falls open as his other hand landed on your throbbing clit. You let out a choked out cry as he abused your bud. “J-jungkook…im gonna c-cum..,,” you drop your head. “Go on doll.. cum all over my dick.” His movements on your clit increased as he helped you chase your high. You felt yourself crumbling as you came over his dick. White liquid gushed out of your cunt as he continued fucking you. His pelvic region was stained with your arousal. Jungkook felt himself getting closer to his own high as he watched you come undone. “Hang in there baby…” he said while continuously rutting his hips. You felt his dick twitch inside of you. He hunched over your fucked out body. Hands landing on either side of your head. “Fuckkk…i love you so much-..” his head dropped and his hip movement stopped as he finally spilled his cum inside you. Ropes after ropes. You could feel jungkooks hot breath on your neck as well as his quite moans and whines. “Ngh..-“ he let out his final whine before collapsing on you. Gasps and breathing sounds echoed throughout the now quiet room. Jungkook picked himself up, reaching over for his phone before standing upright. He tapped your side and you immediately lifted your ass up for him even though you were extremely tired. He once again focused his camera on your cunt as he pulled out – a white gush of his and your arousal came out and dripped down. He landed a soft slap on your ass. “Good fucking girl.”

The next day, you were watching the kbs livestream of jungkooks arrival at music bank since it was his comeback season and he was scheduled to perform at music bank that day. You watched the livestream eagerly before you see a black van park and then steps out your boyfriend, in all his glory. But something seemed different. His phone was in his hand and there was something familiar on it. On closer inspection your eyes widen at the picture. The polaroid from the night before.

A/n : HOPE IT WAS UP TO PARRRR! :33333 lol anyways ily! Thank you for reading! And happy new year!!

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de4dlyniightshade · 3 months

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HELP i need a blurb about how spencer would react to reader wanting to put a bow on his dick

like i can just imagine reader going "it's COCK-ette" and him just going "..what?"

the way i've literally spoke abt this in the discord before is crazy

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: +18, mdni

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: taking pictures/voyeurism, and like the tiniest bit of touching and that's about it

A/N: for the sake of this fic let's pretend polaroids develop faster than they actually do, 'kay?

you loved taking pictures of spencer anytime you could, candid photos of him reading, pictures of you two together, pictures of him when you just felt like it but you especially loved taking pictures of him that nobody else could see, pictures of him completely wrecked under you, pictures of your fingers buried in his mouth, pictures of the marks you left on him afterwards but the largest part of your extensive collection of photos, mostly polaroids, were pictures of his cock, either with your hand wrapped around it, inside you or just sitting pretty on his stomach.

spencer thought it was a little strange at first, the way you'd stop completely to fetch your camera to take a picture of him but he quickly learned to love it, knowing that you took them for yourself and because you thought he was so beautiful that the moment needed to be savoured, like now.

"let me see you, baby" you husked, standing back as spencer sat at the bottom of the bed, lips swollen and wet from you kissing him. he immediately complied, unbuttoning just a few buttons to pull his shirt over his head, his tie already discarded of before he moved to fumble with his pants, slipping them down his legs as soon as his zip was undone, pulling his underwear down with them.

"always so pretty, baby" you murmured, biting your lip at the sight of his pretty cock resting on his stomach, flushed and hard, a bead of precum dribbling down his shaft so perfectly.

"need a picture of you, pretty boy" you smiled, rounding the bed to your nightstand to fetch your polaroid camera from the drawer where you kept it so it was always on hand when you needed it, quickly making your way back to stand between his thighs, sinking to your knees like it was second nature.

spencer couldn't help but whine, rolling his hips as his cock throbbed against his pelvis. "sit still" you ordered, looking at him over your camera to emphasise your point before you looked back through the lens, snapping a photo of him and smiling to yourself as you took the printed photo and began shaking it as you always did.

when the photo developed you couldn't help but furrow your brows, something was missing, of course he still looked pretty but you just felt like it needed more, for your benefit if you were being honest.

you thought for a moment, spencer confused at your behaviour but not saying anything, just watching as he could almost see the lightbulb go off above your head as you reached behind your head, tugging the ribbon you had tied in your hair to loosen it as you grinned to yourself.

"what are you doing?" he asked, genuinely confused as you held the thin pink satin ribbon in your hand with a giddy expression on your face, "just sit still for me" you murmured as you reached out to take the base of his cock into your hand, stroking him a few times purely to rile him up before you took the ribbon and and wrapped it just below his tip, spencer utterly confused as you began tying it around his length, only realising what you were doing when he saw the distinct loops of a bow.

"wh- why did you- tie a bow...on my-" you stumbled over his words, completely infatuated with your weird antics, you truly never failed to surprise him.

"can't you see? it's cockette" you smiled, giggling a little at your own pun as he blinked back at you, now even more confused than before you answered, sighing a little to himself as he shook his head.

"perfect" you mumbled to yourself as you raised you camera once again, taking your time to get the angle just right before you snapped the photo, a wide smile on your lips as it printed, quickly snatching it and waving it around.

"my best work yet, if i do say so myself" you smiled, showing the photo to spencer who you had honestly forgot was literally waiting for you to touch him, his cock painfully hard by now, precum soiling the pink satin.

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nyctophiliq · 1 year

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art student! ellie taking slutty polaroids of you !

i was having some thoughts about art student! ellie as i was rolling through what majors the uni i applied for was letting applications in for and this popped into my silly mind.

cw for pornography, vaginal sex, groping, strap-on use, dacryphilia

ellie who has already painted countless portraits of you sitting in the snow, in the sun, laying on the grass, reading, and any other activities you can think of. the same ellie who has sketchbooks full of you as her anatomic reference, paintings, and pencil drawings of you sleeping naked after a night of passion, hidden away in the very bottom of her school bag. but this, this was something else.

“no, no, don’t be shy baby. the camera loves you.”

her hips never stop trusting into you as she lifts up the metal box, her other hand reaching to grope the soft mound as she tries to position the camera at the right angle to take a perfect photo. you looked so cute like this, hands gripping the sheets, your legs wrapped around her waist, back arching the slightest, and eyes closed, head twitching side to side as you were nearing the edge.

you were such a needy thing, fighting her hands as she tried to position you in the prettiest way she could with her cock deep inside your pussy. you writhe so much, she can hardly keep you in your place but she only takes the picture she is going to keep in the inner pocket of her coat when you come. you still for that brief second, back lifting off the bed, the back of your palm coming to cover your eyes when the camera flashes.

but it’s not enough, there is never enough of you in ellie’s eyes and she is relentless as she chases her own high by overstimulating your already worn out walls and bundle of nerves. this once she isn’t paying attention to your needs but rather hers and all she can think of is you, you, you, your body. the way you cry that it’s enough, that you cannot take it no more, slurring your words and your weak hands try to push her off of you is just puts more onto the fire in the pits of her stomach.

ellie discards the camera your side, leaning down to hover over you with her hands gripping the sheets beside your head, keeping herself up and anchored. she takes a few ragged breaths, huffing as she tries to move despite her muscles feeling numb and pulls out of you. sweat drips from her forehead and shoulders, her whole body shining in front of your eyes before she lays next to you.

despite being out of breath, her mind still being clouded by the bliss of her orgasm she coos a few sweet thing into your ear as she covers the both of you up with a blanket, reaching for the printed polaroid from the camera on your side and showing it to you.

“see? every color, expression, and curve of your body is perfectly embodied in this photo.”

#📗 — written by moss !#ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie willams #tlou ellie x reader #tlou smut #tlou x reader #tlou x reader smut #ellie williams #ellie x reader #tlou ellie williams #tlou ellie x reader smut #tlou ellie

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soobnny · 4 months

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new year’s day — lee minho. established relationship. just quiet and fluffy love. (0.8k words)

“i’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year’s day” inspired by taylor’s new year’s day

It’s nearing 2am, and your friends have just left your apartment.

You can still hear them chattering outside, heels discarded in favor of walking barefoot as they wait for their taxi. Chan’s coat is weighing heavy on their shoulders, and the poor boy is making it seem as if he’s unaffected by winter’s harsh winds as he waits for a taxi with them.

The confetti on the floor from your little get-together earlier sticks to Minho’s feet after having rid his shoes. He’s sure he’d have been irritated if he wasn’t too busy looking at you, flipping through the dozens of polaroid photos you’d taken of the night. There’s a soft smile ghosting on your features, and it’s enough to pull the boy in and sit next to you on the couch because there’s something about this—something about you and starting the new year with you that has him impossibly flustered.

Minho wishes to have all your midnights.

And he’s not used to this, not so used to having his heart out on his sleeve like this. He’s normally unfazed, tough and cold and easy to run away. But there is something about the glitter and the candle wax on the hardwood floor, something about the way you look at him, and something about the way you smile that has him feeling things only you could ever bring out.

The room is still cold from turning on the airconditioner earlier, but his heart feels warm. Strings of decorations are hanging loosely now, swaying gently with the wind. Minho turns his attention to the empty wine bottles on your living room table when you make a move to clean them up.

“Hey.” He calls out softly to get your attention. “You look tired. You can go ahead and wash up if you want. I’ll clean this up.”

“Hm? No, it’s alright. It’s more time spent with you, isn’t it?”

Normally, he’d brew up a witty response, something like how you’re so obsessed with him, but he can’t. Not when his chest is tightening from the sincerity of your words—because you would willingly stay up to clean if it meant spending more time with him, even if you were tired.

“Can’t believe Seungmin got so drunk tonight.” Your laughter echoes around the room, crouching down to grab a knocked over wine glass on the floor.

“Yeah. Something about being more out there for his new year’s resolution? Honestly, it’s great for me because it’s more material to blackmail him with.” Minho chuckles quietly to himself, recalling the numerous videos he’d taken of his drunk friend just a few hours ago.

You hum, nodding your head as if you finally understand his sudden interest for alcohol when Seungmin has always been rather picky with its taste in general. “That explains it then.”

And then it’s quiet for a few heartbeats. Minho sweeps the floor, and you arrange your misplaced furniture. There’s the sound of shuffling and decorations being put away and the moment is so sweet and domestic.

“What’s your new year’s resolution?” Your voice cuts through the silence, and Minho pauses at the question, hands hovering over a few take-out containers that need to be thrown out in favor of thinking for a second.

There’s something in his eyes while he thinks, and then he opens his mouth to say something.

“To stay.”

The thumping of your heart speeds up tenfold at his response because the boy who has always kept his mind on running away all his life is considering to stay, despite his baggage, despite his fear, despite being startled so easily.

And it’s so late in the night that these simple two words have you feeling content and warm where the loneliness usually is.

The beating of your heart doesn’t calm down, even after you’ve finished cleaning and are preparing for bed, and especially not now when he’s leaning in to kiss you in your dimly-lit bedroom—not when he pulls you against him, hands firmly planted on your waist and his lips on yours with an intensity you’ve never felt from him before. At least, not this much. Almost as if he was pleading please, please, please, let me stay.

His fingers sink into the skin of your waist, and your heart bursts at the immense genuineness of how much he really wants you.

“Thank you.” Minho is close enough that you can see the uncharacteristic softness in his eyes, just inches away that you can hear his inhale and exhale, and the affection in his voice. You’ve never wanted to wish for time to stop then at this very moment.

“What are you saying that for?”

He doesn’t answer, but you think you already know.

“Let’s go to sleep, hm? I know you’re tired.” He asks, lips pulled up into the softest smile with his half-lidded eyes. He easily pulls you into bed with him, his head immediately finding home in the crook of your neck. He falls asleep a few minutes later, not without a lingering kiss on your chin, and you drift away a little after.

And maybe if you were more awake, you’d notice the way he reaches for a small box on your bedside table. But instead, you fall asleep and Minho holds you in his arms the entire night.

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 2 months

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His Forever Valentine.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - happy valentines day you sexy people, mwah !!

word count - 4.3k

in which, you and harry have been each others valentines for what seems like forever, it all started back in 2014, and now, in 2024, your love story is still going strong, so when you look back on memories from over the years, the two of you realise just how far you’ve really come.

February 14th, 2024.

You let out a soft huff.

Last night, you and your husband had taken part in some secret little rendezvous and that had meant that clothes were discarded all over the floor, which you had left until this morning to be cleaned up.

So now, here you were.

As you tidy up the bedroom, picking up clothes strewn across the floor, your foot suddenly collides with something solid.

You glance down and notice a shoebox with "Valentine's Day" scrawled across the lid. Curiosity piqued, you bend down to pick it up, recognizing it as the container for your cherished Polaroid camera and the collection of snapshots you and your husband have taken on Valentine's Days past.

With a gentle tug, you open the lid, revealing a treasure trove of memories captured in instant film. Each photograph tells a story of love, laughter, and shared moments over the years.

You smile as you sift through the images, remembering the joy of each Valentine's Day celebration spent together.

The camera nestled among the Polaroids brings back memories of spontaneous snapshots, impromptu poses, and candid shots captured in the heat of the moment. It's a tangible reminder of the love that has grown and deepened between you and your husband since you first embarked on this journey together.

As you hold the camera in your hands, you're transported back to those special moments frozen in time. From romantic dinners to adventurous outings, each Polaroid is a testament to the bond you share and the memories you've created together.

You can't help but laugh softly as you descend the stairs, the shoebox cradled carefully in your arms. Entering the living room, you find your husband seated, still clad in his workout attire from his early morning gym session.

As you approach him, you place the box gently on his lap, causing him to look up at you with a puzzled expression, a crease forming in his eyebrows as he registers the unexpected gift.

"It was tucked away in the bedroom," you explain, intertwining your fingers with his. "I thought it would be nice to take a trip down memory lane together."

Feeling his warm lips pressing against the top of your head, you lean into his affectionate gesture, savoring the moment of closeness. As he opens up the box and pulls out the first Polaroid, a wave of nostalgia washes over you.

The image captures him back in 2013, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he holds a rose between his teeth.

You remember that day vividly, as if it were yesterday. It was your first Valentine's Day together, and he had surprised you with a romantic gesture that had left you speechless.

Seeing the Polaroid now, you can't help but smile at the memory of his playful antics and the joy it had brought you.

As he gazes at the photograph, a fond smile tugs at his lips.

"M’remember this," he murmurs, his voice laced with affection. "That was such a fun day."

The memory floods back, enveloping you in a cascade of emotions as you revisit that magical Valentine's Day four months into your relationship with Harry. You can still feel the nervous excitement fluttering in your chest as you try to persuade him to play along with your whimsical idea.

"Come on, H," you urge, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you hold out the single red rose. "It'll be hilarious! You'll look so macho with the rose between your teeth."

Harry's expression is a mixture of amusement and reluctance as he eyes the flower skeptically.

"I don't know, babe," he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "It feels a bit silly."

But you're determined to coax him into indulging your playful whim. Fluttering your eyelashes at him, you pout exaggeratedly, knowing full well the effect it has on him.

"Please, H," you plead, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes. "It'll be our little Valentine's Day joke."

Unable to resist your charms, Harry finally relents with a chuckle, a reluctant smile playing on his lips.

"Alright, fine," he concedes, taking the rose from your hand and tentatively placing it between his teeth. "But if anyone sees us, I'm blaming you."

You can't help but giggle at his mock seriousness, feeling a rush of affection for the man who's willing to go along with your whimsical antics just to see you smile.

/ /

Back in the present moment, Harry reaches for another Polaroid from the box, his fingers delicately tracing the edges of the photograph. As he pulls it out, you feel a surge of anticipation, eager to revisit another cherished memory captured on Valentine's Day.

This time, the image transports you back to 2015, seated in a cozy restaurant with Harry across the table, his hand clasping yours tenderly.

You remember that evening vividly, the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm ambiance as you savored each other's company over a romantic dinner. Harry's gaze, filled with love and adoration, never wavered from yours as you shared laughter, conversation, and stolen glances throughout the night.

As you study the Polaroid, the memory comes flooding back, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and affection. It's moments like these, captured in snapshots of time, that remind you of the depth of your connection and the beauty of your love story.

With a soft smile, Harry leans over and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, his touch a silent affirmation of the love that continues to blossom between you.

As you sit across from Harry in the cozy restaurant, the air thick with anticipation and love, you notice a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes.

Suddenly, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box, causing your heart to skip a beat.

Your eyes widen in surprise as Harry's words hang in the air, his hesitant demeanor only adding to the gravity of the moment.

"I have something for you," he says softly, his voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.

With trembling hands, he opens the box, revealing a delicate piece of jewelry with what appears to have a key nestled within. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize the significance of his gesture, your heart pounding with anticipation.

But before you can fully process the contents of the box, Harry clears his throat nervously, his gaze locking with yours.

"I... I have something else to ask you," he begins, his voice slightly shaky. "Would you... would you like to move in with me?"

Tears shimmer in your eyes as you reach for Harry's hand across the table, squeezing it tightly in a silent affirmation of your love and devotion.

"Yes," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "Yes, Harry, I would love to move in with you."

/ /

Harry's laughter fills the room once more as he reminisces about that special evening. With a fond smile, he looks up at you, his eyes sparkling with affection.

"That was one of the nicest evenings we've shared together," he muses, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

You nod in agreement, feeling a rush of warmth flood your heart as you recall the joy and love that had enveloped you both on that unforgettable Valentine's Day.

It was a moment of pure bliss, a testament to the strength of your bond and the depth of your connection.

As you gaze at Harry, his laughter echoing in the room, you can't help but marvel at the journey you've embarked on together. Through the ups and downs, the laughter and tears, you've remained by each other's side, growing stronger with each passing day.

Harry reaches for another Polaroid from the box, his fingers brushing against the edges of the photograph with a tender reverence. As he pulls it out, you feel a rush of excitement, knowing that this snapshot holds yet another cherished memory from your shared Valentine's Day celebrations.

This time, the image transports you back to 2017, a year filled with love, laughter, and a furry addition to your family.

You remember the joyous moment vividly, the surprise etched on Harry's face as he laid eyes on the adorable puppy you had carefully chosen for him. It was a breed he had always admired, and seeing his eyes light up with delight was a gift in itself.

In the Polaroid, Harry's face is aglow with happiness as he lets the puppy kiss his cheek, his smile radiant and infectious. The bond between them is palpable, a testament to the love and companionship that would come to define their relationship over the years.

As Harry sat on the couch, oblivious to the surprise in store, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you walked into the room, a mischievous grin playing on your lips as you held the squirming puppy in your arms.

"Hey, babe," you greeted Harry with a smile, trying to mask your excitement. "I have something for you."

Harry looked up from his book, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he watched you approach.

"What's that?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

With a dramatic flourish, you revealed the wriggling bundle of fur in your arms, watching as Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement any longer.

Harry's expression shifted from confusion to sheer delight as he took in the sight of the puppy, its tail wagging furiously as it sniffed the air in excitement.

"No way!" he exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide grin. "S’this for me?"

You nodded eagerly, your heart swelling with happiness at his reaction.

"Yes, it's for you," you confirmed, gently placing the puppy in his arms. "I know how much you've always wanted a dog, so I thought it was time we added a furry friend to our family."

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he held the puppy close, his heart overflowing with gratitude and love.

"I can't believe you did this," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "This is the best Valentine's Day gift ever."

As you watched the scene unfold before you, the room filled with laughter and the sound of happy barks, you knew that this moment would be etched in your memory forever. It was a testament to the power of love and the joy of sharing life's precious moments with the ones you hold dear.

/ /

Harry's fingers gently stroke the fur of the large, but still beloved, dog nestled next to him. Pancake, now fully grown but forever a puppy at heart, looks up at Harry with adoring eyes, a silent reminder of the bond they share.

With a nostalgic smile, Harry recalls the early days when Pancake was just a tiny ball of fur, bounding around the house with endless energy and mischief.

"Remember when he was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand?" Harry muses, his voice tinged with fondness.

You nod, your own heart swelling with affection as you watch the pair interact.

"Those were some unforgettable times," you agree, your voice soft with reminiscence. "He's grown so much since then, but he'll always be our little Pancake."

With a sense of anticipation, Harry reaches for another Polaroid from the box, his movements deliberate as he carefully selects the next snapshot to relive. As he pulls it out, your breath catches in your throat, anticipation building as you recognize the significance of the photograph.

This time, the image transports you back to a breathtaking sunset in Italy, a moment forever etched in your memory as the day Harry asked you to be his forever.

In the Polaroid, the radiant glow of the Italian sunset provides the perfect backdrop to the centerpiece of the image: your sparkling engagement ring, glimmering in the fading light. Memories flood back as you recall the magic of that evening, the air thick with anticipation as Harry led you to the terrace of your shared villa.

The setting sun cast a golden hue over the landscape, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink as you stood hand in hand with Harry, the world seemingly frozen in time. With trembling hands and a heart full of love, Harry dropped to one knee, his eyes shining with emotion as he poured his heart out to you in a heartfelt proposal.

The air is alive with the scent of Mediterranean flowers and the soft murmur of the evening breeze. Harry's hand clasps yours tightly, his gaze fixed on yours with unwavering intensity as he leads you to the edge of the terrace, where the sun dips below the horizon in a fiery display of color.

"Close your eyes," Harry whispers, his voice tinged with excitement as he guides you to a spot overlooking the rolling hills and the sparkling sea below. You comply, a smile playing on your lips as you anticipate the surprise Harry has in store.

A moment later, you feel his warm breath against your ear as he murmurs softly, "Okay, now open them."

As you open your eyes, the breathtaking sight before you takes your breath away. The sky is ablaze with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the landscape as the sun sets in a magnificent display of natural beauty. Candlelit lanterns twinkle along the terrace, creating a romantic ambiance that sets your heart aflutter.

"It's beautiful," you breathe, turning to Harry with a look of wonder on your face.

Harry smiles, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he takes your hand in his leading you further onto the terrace until you're bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun.

And then, with a suddenness that catches you off guard, Harry drops to one knee, his hand reaching into his pocket as he pulls out a small velvet box. Your heart leaps into your throat as you realize what's happening, your breath catching as Harry's eyes meet yours, filled with love and determination.

"From the moment I met you, I knew you were the one," Harry begins, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "You've brought so much joy and love into my life, and I can't imagine spending another day without you by my side."

As he speaks, Harry opens the box to reveal the dazzling engagement ring nestled within, its sparkle reflecting the light of the setting sun.

"Will you marry me?" he asks, his voice soft but resolute, his eyes never leaving yours as he waits for your answer.

/ /

Harry's voice breaks through your reverie, his words a tender reminder of the significance of that day.

"I still can't believe you said yes," he murmurs, his eyes reflecting the love and wonder he felt in that moment.

You reach for Harry's hand, squeezing it gently as you relive the joy and excitement of your engagement.

"It was the easiest 'yes' I've ever said," you reply, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

Harry reaches for another Polaroid from the box, his fingers tracing the edges of the photograph with a gentle reverence. As he pulls it out, his breath catches in his throat, a small gasp escaping his lips as he realizes the significance of the snapshot.

In the Polaroid, you and Harry stand side by side, radiant in your wedding attire, surrounded by the lush greenery of the church garden. The joy and love that radiate from the photograph are palpable, a testament to the happiness you both felt in that momentous occasion.

Harry's eyes linger on the image, a soft smile playing on his lips as he recalls the whirlwind of emotions that swept over him on your wedding day. It was a day filled with love, laughter, and promises of forever, a day you had both chosen to celebrate your love on Valentine's Day, the most romantic day of the year.

Little did you know at the time that Harry's best friend, Niall, had snapped the photograph, capturing the tender moment without either of you realizing it.

"M’can't believe it," Harry murmured, his voice filled with wonder as he gazed into your eyes, his own sparkling with love and adoration. "We're finally husband and wife."

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of happiness wash over you as you took in the sight of your new husband, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun.

"I know," you replied, your voice tinged with excitement. "It still feels like a dream."

As you walked hand in hand through the garden, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of love and happiness. Each step felt like a dance, a celebration of your newfound union and the beginning of your shared journey as husband and wife.

"I love you," Harry whispered, his words a tender declaration of his devotion as he pulled you closer into his embrace. "I've never been happier than I am in this moment, with you by my side."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you leaned into Harry's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your voice filled with emotion. "More than words can say."

/ /

With a tender smile, Harry reaches for another Polaroid from the box, his fingers tracing the edges of the photograph with a sense of reverence. As he pulls it out, he holds it close to his chest, his eyes shining with emotion as he gazes at the image. This, he declares, is one of his favorites so far.

In the Polaroid, Harry is fast asleep, his features softened in slumber as he lies peacefully in bed, unaware of the momentous news about to unfold. In the foreground, a pregnancy test rests on the bedside table, its result displayed prominently for the camera to capture.

You remember the moment vividly, the mix of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins as you prepared to share the life-changing news with Harry. With a trembling hand, you had set up the camera, carefully framing the shot to include both Harry and the pregnancy test, capturing the raw emotion of the moment for posterity.

You and Harry sat side by side under a blanket of stars, the soft glow of moonlight casting a romantic ambiance over the scene. With the night sky twinkling above you, you knew it was the perfect moment to share the life-changing news you had been keeping a secret.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you turned to Harry, your heart pounding in your chest as you mustered the courage to speak.

"Harry, there's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

Harry turned to you, his eyes shining with curiosity and affection.

"What is it, love?" he asked, his hand reaching out to gently caress yours.

With a nervous flutter in your stomach, you took a deep breath before blurting out the words you had been rehearsing in your mind.

"I'm pregnant," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion.

At first, Harry's expression registered disbelief, his eyes widening in shock as he processed your words.

"Really?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips as you reached into your pocket to retrieve the pregnancy test. Holding it out to Harry, you watched as his eyes flickered from the test to your face and back again, the realization slowly sinking in.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he took the test from you, his hands trembling slightly as he examined the result. And then, as the truth of the moment washed over him, he broke into tears, his emotions overflowing as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"M’going to be a daddy," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I can't believe it."

/ /

As Harry studies the photograph, a myriad of emotions flicker across his face, from surprise to joy to overwhelming love.

"I remember this," he murmurs, his voice soft with emotion. "I had no idea what was coming."

You reach out to grasp his hand, squeezing it gently as you relive the anticipation and excitement of that unforgettable moment.

"It was one of the happiest moments of my life," you confess, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you.

With a tender smile, Harry leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

"And it was the beginning of the greatest adventure of our lives," he whispers, his voice filled with love and gratitude.

And just like that your almost two year old made his presence known.

As Sebastian toddles into the room, his chubby cheeks flushed with excitement from his playtime adventures in the toy room, a delighted squeal escapes his lips at the sight of his father. With a burst of energy, he throws himself onto Harry's lap, his tiny arms wrapping around his father's neck as he snuggles in close.

Harry chuckles warmly at Sebastian's exuberance, his heart swelling with love as he wraps his arms around his son in a tight embrace.

"Hey there, little buddy," he greets, his voice filled with affection as he ruffles Sebastian's curly hair, the same curls that match his own.

Sebastian giggles gleefully, his eyes sparkling with joy as he gazes up at his father. His attention is quickly drawn to the cross necklace dangling around Harry's neck, the delicate chain catching the light as it sways gently with his movements.

"Dada," Sebastian babbles, reaching out to touch the necklace with chubby fingers, his curiosity piqued by the shiny object.

Harry smiles down at his son, his heart swelling with pride at the sight of Sebastian's innocent fascination.

Sebastian's eyes widen with wonder as he continues to examine the necklace, his tiny fingers tracing the outline of the cross with gentle fascination.

"Pretty," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe.

Harry nods, a fond smile playing on his lips as he gazes down at his son.

"Yes, it is," he agrees, his heart overflowing with love for the precious little boy nestled in his arms.

As Sebastian sits in Harry's lap, giggling and playing with his father's necklace, you feel a pang of bittersweet nostalgia wash over you. Your little boy is growing up before your eyes, each day bringing new discoveries and adventures. You can't help but marvel at how quickly time seems to be slipping through your fingers.

Determined to capture this precious moment, you reach for the Polaroid camera resting on the nearby table. With a sense of urgency, you snap a photo of Harry and Sebastian, their smiles bright and their bond palpable. The sound of the camera's shutter clicking fills the room, freezing the moment in time for eternity.

As the photo develops before your eyes, you can't help but feel a swell of gratitude wash over you. This, you realize, is what life is all about—cherishing the fleeting moments of joy and love that make it all worthwhile.

With a gentle smile playing on your lips, you reach for the pen that lays on the coffee table, its sleek design catching the light as you pick it up. Gripping it firmly in your hand, you carefully write a special little message on the underneath of the Polaroid, a message of love and gratitude that you know will warm Harry's heart when he discovers it.

Once the message is complete, you place the Polaroid neatly back in the box, its presence a tangible reminder of the love and memories you've shared together on Valentine's Day. With a sense of satisfaction, you close the lid, knowing that this small gesture will hold a special place in Harry's heart for years to come.

Turning to Harry, who sits beside you with Sebastian in his lap, you snuggle into his warm embrace, reveling in the comfort and love that surrounds you.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion as you press a kiss to his cheek.

Harry's arms tighten around you, pulling you close as he murmurs softly,

"I love you both so much." His words are a tender declaration of his love, a reminder of the bond that binds you together as a family.

With another Polaroid security added to the box, your reloaded just how much you can’t wait to add even more photos as the years progress.

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bloodybobbysawyer · 8 months

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ꜰʟᴇꜱʜʟɪɢʜᴛ: ᴛʜᴏᴍᴀꜱ ʜᴇᴡɪᴛᴛ x ᴀꜰᴀʙ! ᴘᴏᴄ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ

This was a request from my Discord, shout out to ya! (You know who you are). Not proofread, by the way. And yes, I take free requests.

Breeding kink, DIY fleshlight, soloboy, size kink

It was a hot summer day in Texas, and the piercing stare of the sun coated Thomas’ already sweat ridden arms. The coarse hair dotting his arms became slick with the fluids of work. The air wasn’t any help either, it was stiff and stale. You could see dust particles mingling amongst each other before they fell onto the floorboards of the Hewitt house. The only interruption these bits of dust had was from the feverish slapping, and exhales of pure desire from behind the mask of the large man.

But none of this would have happened if he hadn’t met her.

The girl.

(Y/N) was her name. The girl who's been clouding the mind of Thomas Hewitt ever since she had knocked on the family’s door, to the point of which he could hardly get any work done. He thought that God proved himself to be a proper artist when he sculpted her from the pieces of caramel-colored holy flesh amongst his studio. (Y/N) was a beautiful girl, he’d always thought so. Truth be told, he had always been nervous around her. Which made his current actions all the more shameful to him.

He had a Polaroid picture of her, where her curls were being highlighted by the same sun that was practically encouraging his godless activities. Thomas was raised in a traditional household, therefore he could hardly bring himself to look into the brown eyes staring unknowingly into his own baby blues beyond his loose curls shading them. His large hands gripped tighter onto his work table, the burly knuckles of his turning almost white as he tried to push himself past the shame - and the fear of being caught in such an intimate moment.

Earlier that morning, the 6’5 man had taken his mothers discarded tea bags and hastily stuffed the two of them into their own respective hand towels. The hand towels that were currently being used to fulfill Thomas’ current intimate fantasies. Thomas shoved his plump cock in between the towels, making a sort of flesh light by tying a leather strap around them to ensure that they envelope his wide length.

His hairy arms bent as he leaned further over the metal table as he gazed hungrily at the photo of (Y/N). He needed her, like a predator to a piece of raw meat. Now, Thomas was aware that intercourse would result in childbirth (and the other crude things Sheriff Hoyt had mentioned in passing) but he would be lying if he said that it wasn’t the goal. If he had it his way, she would be in place of his makeshift pleasure device, being pounded relentlessly. It was all Thomas could think of, from entangling his filthy fingers into her curls as her tongue swirled around the mushroomed tip of his cock to the thought of her laying down as his heavy breeding balls slapped against her ass - the same way they were slapping against the edge of the table.

The grunts and groans erupting from his chest were almost animalistic as his pace quickened. This was his first time he had used his creative wit to pleasure himself, sure, but this was not the first time that Thomas had used this simple photograph of (Y/N) to bring him to release.

With each pulse of his cock bringing him closer to his finish, the shame Thomas had felt was beginning to wash away. A guttural moan left his chapped lips as he imagined the tan flesh of her ass gripped in his huge fingers, chasing after his own orgasm as he pounded into her. Thomas was raised to be a gentleman (that of which he was, for the most part) but her pleas for mercy had fallen on deaf ears as he humped deep against her cervix - (Y/N) was strapped down, all to be impregnated by him properly. Luda Mae always spoke about how she wanted grandchildren, of course.

But now wasn’t the time for family. His veiny, chubby cock pulsed causing his voice to ring out in delight. His tongue practically hung from his mouth as he gazed at the innocent photo of (Y/N), his slick sweat falling down his lowbrow and down his reddened face. Thomas frantically peeled his soaked button up off of his hairy chest, freeing himself of the restrictions the shirt was giving his breathing. He panted as his dick twitched at the next thrust he made, the table rocked as he continued to thrust forcefully into the thought of her pretty little wet cunt around him. His dark, sweaty curls bounced as he pounded mercilessly, fucking desperately to release. .

It didn’t take long before his seed was spewing out of him, glazing the Polaroid of his potential sweetheart. The thick globs of salty goo slowly dripped down her face, her sweet smile barely visible under his semen. His size-able girth twitched wildly at the sight in front of him. Thomas grunted through the brown mask, his slick, hairy chest rising and falling as he brushed his hair back with his hand. He picked up his fleshlight and placed it into one of the cluttered drawers. His mask not once moved from his face. Thomas hurried hastily upstairs, and once he reached the laundry room, he looked through the closest hamper for a new shirt, deciding to pay his new sweetheart a visit.

#tcm #tcm 2006 #the texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x y/n #leatherface x reader #smut #thomas hewitt smut #Leatherface smut #texas chainsaw massacre #Texas chainsaw #smut fanfiction

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pervertedreams · 1 year

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eddie is so pathetic when he masturbates, i hate to say it but oh my god. he’s an absolute mess, a wreck. and god forbid if he’s jacking off to you, its ten times worse.

i personally think he’s tried all ways of masturbation. between a couch, hand, fleshlight, sock, panties. you name it and he’s probably found a way to do it. but i personally think his favorite is good old fashioned humping. he loves being faced down on his bed, jeans sloppily pooled at his ankles, the tight jeans keeping his ankles restrained. he’s got an old polaroid he took of you one of the times you two had sex. you look completely gone, still clearly delirious from your pervious orgasm. you’re eyelids are heavy, and eyes out of focus and hazy. your pussy is still wet and puffy, he can tell by the way the flash reflects off your slick lips. your hair is messy and out of place, squished in the curve of your neck. you look stunning in his eyes, seeing you on cloud 9 completely fucked out is always a win for him.

his fingertips are holding the photo tight, his hips weakly stuttering as he’s fucking into his mattresses, you can hear the box spring creak and croak beneath him with each thrust. every time the sheets under him catch his tip, he’s rolling his eyes in the back of his head. his bottom lip is swollen and pink, heavily hanging low with the way his jaw is open. his moans are ranging between desperate whines and breathy groans. he’s hanging on a thread, and embarrassed to come to terms with how close he is already.

all of his focus is on you, the way you look, the way you talk, how your ass shifts back and forth when you walk away from him, how your chest bounce with each step, or the way your favorite necklace always gets swallowed from the valley of your breasts. your smile, your eyes, the way you look up at him when you’re on your knees with his cock in your mouth, the bulge it makes on the side of your cheek can make him cum alone. he’s focusing on how you moan, how you take him with ease, how your pussy feels, how warm it is, how is seizes around his dick.

his hips are jerking harder, and faster. lewd words about your tight pussy escape his lips. his hair is stuck to his face, and if he wasn’t so desperately focused on cumming he’d wipe his sweaty bangs to the side.

the rough feeling of the bed against his sensitive shaft has him whining, his mind is blank. fuzzy with need. his humping is getting harder and sloppier, uncalculated thrusting making his head bob around as he gets more dizzy by the second. his core is blooming with hot pleasure, and he can feel the knot at the pit of his abdomen forming tighter and tighter.

“fuck, i need your pussy.” is repeated, he’s losing his strength, no longer being able to hold his neck up. his head is buried in his pillow, moans now muffled. your polaroid is discarded to the floor as he flings his hands to his side, gripping the edges of his bed to ground himself, and grind harder into the bed, desperately chasing his high.

explicit and vulgar moans get louder and louder the closer he gets, and before he knows it he’s seeing white. everything is a blur when the knot finally snaps, spilling himself into his sheets. hips now grinding slowly as his shaft grows soft and limp. he’s slightly overstimulating himself with a few extra thrusts. and he cant help but chuckle to himself when a stream of drool a dribbled a wet spot on his pillow.

maybe he should call you.

BONUS: he slaps his own ass when he masturbates as well. he really gets into it.

#my work┊ ˚➶ ｡˚#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson concept #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic

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vivwritescrappythings · 3 months

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Just Love Me and Eat

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Reader

You watched Eddie die, so this must be some nightmare in your room.

tw: blood, biting, i think its gender neutral?

also just really loved Bones and All and the concept of cannibalism/vampirism as love so made this lil guy

Word Count: 2k

Part two

masterlist

—

Your room was dark, the curtains pulled shut and the lights off. It had been a month since Eddie died and you didn’t have the energy to pantomime life without him. You had no sense of what time it was, every day simply becoming another day where he was gone and you were left unmoored. If it wasn’t for the sound of birds chirping and kids playing outside, you wouldn’t have guessed time was passing at all.

You didn’t sleep, you hardly ate. Nancy and Robin brought you food like offerings, using their keys to enter your apartment and leaving simple meals outside your bedroom door with soft knocks on the wood. Their little tupperwares were probably the only things keeping you alive–you knew Eddie would be upset if you wasted food on his account.

The Hellfire shirt Wayne had given you was soft and well-worn, but it hardly smelled like Eddie anymore. The familiar scent of tobacco and leather and the incense that he used to try to cover the stink of weed was fading, soon you wouldn’t be able to detect it at all under the sharp tang of your sweat.

Curled up in your comforter, you kept thinking about how it should’ve been you instead. Eddie would have known how to keep living, he would’ve been able to move on. You? You were just surviving.

Sleep threatened the edges of your vision, you’d been staring at the fuzzy polaroid photo you had propped on your nightstand. It was of you and Eddie at some party, he was smiling broadly at the camera with you tugged neatly to his side. Both of you held solo cups, your head rested on his shoulder like it was meant to be there.

It was your last good memory of him, before Chrissy Cunningham died and everything you ever knew fell to pieces.

—

Your dreamless sleep was interrupted by something tapping at your window. At first you thought—prayed—you were hallucinating it. Maybe it was just a lack of sleep accumulating to finally make you hear things. But it insisted, the knocking at your second-floor window was incessant enough that it managed to pull you from your bed.

The quilt came with you as you carefully crossed the room to your window, trepidation making you bite your lip before you finally pulled back the curtain. It was a quick motion, ripping off the band-aid with the expectation of seeing a woodpecker or a squirrel or something normal on the other side.

What you didn’t expect to see was your dead boyfriend in the moonlight.

You nearly screamed, your eyes widening into dinner plates as you clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. It must’ve been a dream, or a nightmare. In your effort to get away from the window you tripped over discarded shoes on the floor and fell back onto your butt. Panicked, delirious tears roll down your cheeks as you start to roughly pinch the skin on your exposed thigh.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” you mumbled to yourself as you hyperventilated through the tears. It couldn’t be Eddie, Eddie was dead. He was in The Upside Down. You were never getting him back.

It was too late when you realized your window was unlocked, not-Eddie placing a palm flat against the glass to push it up. It was slow, you were too stunned to get up and try to close it. You were just outright sobbing on the floor of your bedroom, angry welts across your leg from where you’d been pinching at it almost hard enough to draw blood.

This Eddie looked different… he looked off. His eyes weren’t brown anymore: they were too bright, almost looking like a cat’s eyes in a photograph. Your window was fully open now, not-Eddie pitching himself through with a grace you’d never seen before.

“Did you miss me, baby?” he asked, his voice sounding the same as it used to. Your heart twisted, breaking into a million pieces—you’d dreamt of Eddie before, but never like this. His clothes were ripped and dirty, his battle vest in shreds along with the shirt beneath it. You could see the gnarled, twisting scars on his arms and his neck and parts of his torso through the shirt—everything the demobats had done to him.

He took in the state of your bedroom, appraising it with the careful eye of someone who had been there many times before. You kept crying into your hand, not able to catch your breath. Your head was spinning, part of you wanting to wake up from the dream as the rest wanted to stay asleep—you wanted to soak up time with any shred of Eddie you could have.

Not-Eddie took a few careful steps toward you, his not-so-white Reeboks softly hitting the ground as he crouched in front of you. He had his Hellfire shirt on under his shredded battle vest and leather jacket, blood and dirt and foggy black stains clinging to the fabric. The one Wayne had given you was an extra, something found in the back of Eddie’s closet.

“You… you’re dead,” you finally croaked, your voice cracking and raspy from disuse. The breath you took rattled in your lungs, the scent of earth and blood and something vaguely like tobacco filling your nose. “I watched you… the bats…”

It was rushing all back to you, the way you screamed when all the bats fell around Eddie. You and Dustin ran to him, watching him die in your arms. Steve carried you out of the Upside Down kicking and screaming.

Not-Eddie tutted at you, his yellow eyes roving over your form. They paused at your neck, at the hem of the Hellfire shirt against your thighs. Something inside you kept telling you to get off the floor and run, but you remained rooted to the spot.

“You really think some silly little bats could keep me away from you?” Not-Eddie asked, his head tilting. “Nothing could keep me from you. Nothing.”

His hands were freezing when they wrapped under your knees to drag you closer. Fat tears rolled down your face, stinging at your eyes and hot against your cheeks.

“This can’t be happening.”

Not-Eddie chuckled, his smile revealing perfectly white teeth. His canines and outermost incisors in the top row of his teeth were elongated, looking like fangs more than anything else. Your mind stuttered, frantically trying to keep up.

His hands were still on the backs of your knees, his gaudy costume rings cold against your skin. His calloused fingers pressed at the popliteal veins at the backs of your legs. If anything he seemed to be preoccupied with rolling them under his fingertips, tracing along them.

“Guess they weren’t normal bats, baby,” he muttered, rolling from crouching on his feet to kneeling between your legs.

Your breath hitched as he bent over you, one dirt-crusted hand pressing against the floorboards near your head. His long curls fell down around you, curtaining your dark bedroom from your view as your breaths became shallow. He was so close to your Eddie that you almost found yourself convinced.

He leaned down, nosing at your neck. Hot breaths huffed at the curve between your neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he growled in a low voice, a large hand pressing to your sternum to pin you to the floor. He was so strong, it was like he had placed a weight on your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” you whined, your voice pathetic and soft. You stared up at the ceiling, your hands loosely tugging at his leather jacket. “I shouldn’t have let Harrington drag me away, should’ve stayed.”

He shushed me, pressing his nose to my skin and inhaling deeply. “S’okay, baby. You’ll make it up to me,” he mumbled, his voice seeming only partially present in the conversation. Not-Eddie’s lips pressed to your throat.

“Your heart is beating so fast… smells so good,” he groaned, licking up the side of your throat for a moment. “I’m starving, baby. You gonna help me?”

His voice was dripping with soft affection, like someone talking to a skittish wild animal. “Eddie…” you whined, your instincts screaming that something was wrong.

“Shh shh,” he mumbled, placing open mouthed kisses over your pulse point. His voice was broken, a desperation in it that you understood and recognized. “It’s okay... I just gotta eat, I’m so hungry. Haven’t eaten anything… wanted to see you first.”

Your head was spinning, the realization that this is your Eddie snapping into place like a sudden, infallible truth. Your heart was still pounding against your ribs like a hummingbird trapped in a cage. For the first time you felt like prey as Eddie kept you cornered against the floor. But he was still gentle, not taking what he easily could have.

“I love you,” you whispered, tears clouding your eyes. He was different, more monster than man, but this was Eddie. Your Eddie.

“Love you so much,” he said, his teeth scraping against your delicate skin. The words sounded like a prayer, like they’d been ripped from his chest. He seemed stuck, his muscles clenching as he traced his tongue and teeth along the thick vein in your throat. “Missed you.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “Eat, Eddie. S’okay,” you mumbled despite your instincts screaming at you to get him off of you.

“I know you’re hungry, let me help.” You tilted your head, pressing your throat to his teeth. A lamb to the slaughter. He stiffened at the action, fighting to keep himself under control. “Don’t want you to be hungry. Not anymore.”

The sound he made was like he got punched in the stomach. Eddie groaned, his fingers pressing into the floorboard hard enough to make the wood split. Your brow pinched, concern running through you. He still hadn’t taken action, not yet.

Your fingers threaded into the soft curls at the nape of Eddie’s neck, pulling his head closer. “You won’t hurt me, Eds. Just love me and eat.”

He grunted, the ghost of a nod coming from him as his nose bumped your neck. The pain of Eddie’s teeth sinking into your neck made you whimper. His hand moved from your sternum to caress your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. The sting faded to warmth, Eddie’s lips pressed firmly against your throat as he suckled at you.

After a while you could hardly keep your hand in his hair, so dizzy and tired that the back of your knuckles smacked against the floor. You felt like you were melting into it, vision doubling as your eyes crossed. Your breaths were shallow and slow. It was hard to think, your mind not able to even tell what time it was or how long it had been.

But your exhaustion was enough, Eddie pulled away. He lapped at the remaining blood on your skin for a moment before sitting back completely. You looked up at him with dizzy eyes, vaguely categorizing the way blood was smeared across his full lips and down his chin.

“C’mon, baby,” he said, gathering your loose limbs from where you’d sprawled on the floor. He seemed more himself now, his actions considerate and his voice back to its normal cadence. He lifted you in a smooth motion, carrying you to bed with a tenderness you remembered from him. He was so much stronger now.

After situating you on the covers, he removed his jacket and toed off his shoes. His body settled behind yours, making the mattress dip as he pulled your spine to his chest. You were fighting with every blink, trying to keep your eyes open for as long as possible. If this was a dream you didn’t want Eddie to disappear.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I swear,” he said into your hair, his large hands smoothing along your waist and your bicep. The reassurance was enough for you to drift off, the blood loss pulling you toward unconsciousness. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

#stranger things #eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #kas!eddie #vampire #bones and all movie #gn!reader

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slttygeto · 3 months

Text

tags: fem! reader, nsfw, taking pictures.

ft: hanma shuji.

you get shuji a polaroid camera for his birthday, something simple for a man with such an expensive taste—the rolex watch costs more than your monthly rent, without mentioning of course the expensive suits that he carelessly discards of in your bathroom to fuck you in the shower. you always end up freaking out on him that it costs so much, and he just waves his black card, reassuring you that it’s nothing.

(you also forget that there’s a 2023 black matte Bentley parked right in front of your apartment building)

and hanma shuji thinks this polaroid camera is the best gift he’s ever gotten in his entire life. white, a contrast color to everything he owns (phone, car, house decor…) and he holds it in his hands like it’s the most precious thing ever.

when shuji gives you his dress shirt to wear, buys you a new set of lingerie in his favorite color and tells you not to wear any makeup—you don’t know that it would end up with you two having a photoshoot on your bed.

“shuji… the light is blinding me,” your words are muffled as he presses his lips against yours in a quick, wet kiss. he’s shirtless and visibly hard in his slacks. his grey suit pants look so tight against his strong thighs, and everytime he tells you to look at the camera, you pout slightly that he’s making you look away.

“one more baby, yeah? mhm, you smell so good,” the kiss travels from your cheek to your neck and then chest. he bites onto your boob, right above your nipple—and something about the redness that it leaves drives him a little crazy.

so he does it again, lets you wrap your legs around him in a pathetic attempt to relieve the ache between your legs as he litters love bites across your skin. to you this is torture, but to him it’s art. his way of expressing himself, claiming you as his. you are his.

you hear the camera shutter and when he shows you the picture he took of your love bites covered chest, you hate to admit but—it did look hot.

his hand goes to grope one of your boobs, and your hand finds his as you wrap it around his wrist. the size difference, the obvious dynamic being shown in a rectangle piece of plastic. shuji loses his mind as he stares at the picture he took, his masterpiece.

he believes that this is the best form of foreplay. because you are breathing hard, there’s a wet patch forming in your panties and you’re giving him the eyes that he knows all too well.

“wanna take a pic of me with your cock in my mouth?” sounds tempting. way too fucking tempting, but shuji spreads your legs and pushes your panties to the side before pressing his thumb to your clit, toying with the bud until you’re writhing underneath.

“not until i’ve taken a picture of this pussy, hm? gorgeous pussy.”

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

#me and shuji are actually going on our honeymoon yall (losing my mind over him today)#moon's works #tokyo revengers #hanma shuji #hanma shuji smut #hanma x reader #hanma x reader smut #hanma shuji x reader

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 8 months

Text

IX ║ Warmblood

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ Part 8: Silver Pony | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: The hardest goodbye you'll ever say.

Warnings: Mentions of food and cooking, angst, feelings, flirting, sexual innuendoes, semi-pubic sex, oral sex (F receiving), risky unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids!), dirty talk, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7.6k

Notes: Here we are, at the end of the longest packtrip ever, and we did it with only one (1) little meltdown last night 😜 More notes at the end, but I just want to say - this has been a once-in-a-lifetime story for me. If a fic can be a soulmate, Palomino is mine.

Thank you for coming on this journey with me, I love every single one of you ❤️ Last thing, I never do this, but I must insist that you play this song when you get there. You'll know when 🥹

Warmblood: An athletic, agile horse that is noted for its trainability and usually calm temperament, is commonly used in equestrian competition, and typically possesses Thoroughbred, Arabian, and draft horse bloodlines.

Your awakening is gentle, soft and blurry around the edges, as if you’re looking through the lens of a Polaroid camera, tinted in sepia. The morning hour creeps across the ceiling of Jack’s bedroom in equal parts light and shadow, the curtains having been left undrawn last night. A crack in the window lets in the faintest breeze, but mutes all the sounds you’ve grown used to seeking out first thing in the morning, when your eyelids are too heavy to lift.

The hum of flying things, feathered or otherwise, charting their flight paths in your head by the buzz of their wings. The brush of the wind like a hand combing through grass and meadow. Even the sun speaks in the morning, raw energy strumming between constantly shifting air particles.

This stillness comes off as almost - unnatural. Even when straddling the divide between sleep and wake, you feel yourself making tiny adjustments to the physicality of being indoors again. Regret stains the corners of your consciousness, knowing it won’t take you long to recalibrate. Your body will return to what it knows, shedding your once-upon-a-time existence in the mountains like a coat discarded at the turn of the season.

When the mattress dips behind you, sensation floods your veins like a shock to the system, flushing out the pins and needles in your limbs that you haven’t even noticed. Jack is warm and solid behind you, where he belongs. One leg nudged between yours, his sun-kissed arm across your waist, the only thing keeping you from tumbling off the edge. His breath whistles sweetly over the shell of your ear, and you smile. You don’t have to look over your shoulder to know that his mouth is parted in slumber.

The next time you come to, it’s the rude buzz of metal on wood that jolts you out of sleep. You squeak when Jack follows, almost inadvertently shoving you off the bed as he startles awake. But thankfully, his instincts are fully intact, and he catches you squarely in the stomach, biceps flexing as he pulls you back into his chest with an easy strength.

‘Sorry, darlin’,’ he rasps groggily, burying his face in your neck in an apology. You uncoil in a languid stretch, opening up your throat to the rough scratch of his moustache, wanting to feel the burn.

‘Phone, cowboy,’ you gripe when the vibration doesn’t stop.

With a heave-ho, Jack reaches over you to grab it, before falling back onto the mattress so heavily that the bedframe shakes. Rubbing his thumb and index finger over his eyes, he grouses into the receiver, ‘What?’

Teak’s voice on the other line is clear as day even though he’s not on speaker. ‘Where are you, man?’

You burrow into Jack’s side, and the wide span of his palm on your hip holds you to him possessively. ‘Where do you think I am?’

‘Listen. Poppy made sausage gravy and buttermilk pancakes. Y’all know what that means.’

You venture a peek at Jack, whose lips are pursed thoughtfully. You prompt, ‘What does it mean?’

He smiles down at you. ‘She really likes you, darlin’.’

Teak interrupts with a scoff. ‘Like her? She’s basically adopting you, sunshine!’

Your lips wobble - if you soften any further, you might melt into the mattress. ‘Oh, Poppy.’

‘Look, I’ve been stallin’ them, but they’re fixin’ to break down her door. You lovebirds best get here quick!’

Tossing away his phone without a goodbye, Jack drops a kiss to your forehead. ‘Listen, we don’t have to go anywhere, you stay here and I’ll make you - cereal in bed?’ He pauses with a wince. ‘Actually, I’m outta milk. And cereal.’

You chuckle, reaching up to run your fingers through his endearingly askew bed hair. ‘It’s ok, cowboy, we should go. I need to pack anyway.’

Your tummy takes the inopportune moment to rumble audibly, and he pins you with a knowing look. ‘And you want that sausage gravy, don’t you?’

‘Shut up,’ you laugh, pushing him off the bed.

When you step out of Jack’s bedroom in last night’s clothes after a quick refresh in his neat ensuite, he’s already outside, warming up the Silver Pony.

The house is even cosier in the morning. Facing east, daylight fills every corner of every room, bringing out the patterns in the wooden panels. Your gaze lingers where you can’t. You want to study the cracked spines of the paperbacks on his bookshelf one by one, you want to press your nose into the shirts hanging in his closet, you want to peer around the door to a second room that is temptingly ajar -

‘Darlin’?’

You look up, and Christ on a cracker - it’s downright unfair that even after a week of spending every waking minute together, this damn cowboy can still make your heart skip a beat just by standing.

Jack is on the doorstep, in what you assume is his ‘off-duty’ uniform. Instead of a plaid shirt, he’s wearing a simple white tshirt with a round neck that is decidedly not sweat- nor dirt-friendly, tucked loosely into the waistband of dark jeans that look a bit more polished, and if you would believe it, even tighter than the pair he wears in the saddle. While it’s business as usual with the Stetson and work boots, something unfamiliar hangs from the neckline of his top.

Plucking the gold-rimmed aviators from his tshirt, you slide them onto your face, winking at him through the tinted lens. ‘Nice shades. Gotta say, I didn’t peg you for such a snazzy dresser off the trail.’

He grins, all tidy teeth with a deliberately libertine edge, clearly enjoying the attention. Scooping you into his broad frame, he drawls, ‘Gotta look good for the ladies in town, y’know. They’re famished ‘cause you been hoardin’ me all week, darlin’.’

With an exaggerated huff, you elbow past him. ‘I don’t know how you manage to zip your ego into those tightass pants, cowboy!’

‘With lots of practice,’ he retorts, smacking you firmly on the backside.

‘Do you need your sunnies?’ you ask as you climb onto the Silver Pony behind him, pushing the aviators a bit higher on your nose where they’ve slid down.

He shrugs. ‘Keep ‘em. Gives you a reason to come back.’

You smile into his broad shoulders, palms sliding to interlock over his soft belly. The bike revs, startling a flock of birds into flight from a nearby tree, and you realise those six little words are the first to breach the subject of what comes after - which will come to be in a matter of hours, with your flight in the early afternoon, a prospect suddenly so frighteningly real.

But in the same breath, it becomes blindingly clear that you don’t even need to hear the words.

Because you know there is a space for you in his bed, tucked into his body, curled around you. A spot for you under his arm resting on the back of his couch in the living room, in front of a woodfire when it snows outside. A seat for you at the back of his motorcycle, where you are now, breezing effortlessly downhill towards the ranch, the white fences and red roofs winking at you between the gaps in the trees that line the winding country roads.

When you dream in the months to come, you will always smell pine, white cotton, and well-worn leather as the Silver Pony carries you home.

It’s a shorter drive than you remember. Jack’s watch reads just past half eight when you pull into the parking lot. He kills the engine as you dismount, passing him your star-spangled helmet to be returned to its place in the little cabinet for next time. You’ve turned on your heel towards the ranch when a hand on your wrist grounds you to the spot.

Hands that have made you feel safe, protected, wanted in turn over the past week.

There’s no fanfare, no declarations, as you watch Jack lace his fingers with yours, filling the gaps and the tips curling into the valleys between your knuckles. Palm to weathered palm, calloused from ropework and heavy lifting, you look up to meet his eyes.

He peers at you, almost shyly, an incomprehensible notion after all that he’s done to you, and what you’ve done to him, across the expanse of the Wyoming wilderness. But there’s a chastity to this simple action, and you find your throat tight when he asks, ‘Is this ok, darlin’?’

Your heart swells, as if it’s going to grow claws and tear itself right out of your chest cavity. Bringing up your tangled hands, you brush a kiss across his knuckles, and his whole countenance lifts with the upward curl of his mouth.

‘Yes, cowboy.’

The Statesman is putting on a show for your last morning. The sun is out, climbing high into the cloudless sky, with Jack’s aviators bearing the brunt of the harsh glare. It’s déjà vu when you retrace the path you took on the day of your arrival, the same crunch of gravel under your boots, the familiar scent of hay and horse on the breeze.

The bird’s eye view of the ranch has your breath stuttering just like that first time you cast your gaze on the green pastures and the red roofs. And beyond, like a perfectly painted stage set piece, the Bighorns loom tall and majestic. You’ve seen the mountains in all their incarnations over the past week - they change colour as the sun and clouds move during the day, and sometimes, you swear they morph in shape too.

It strikes you suddenly that just yesterday, you were but three specks moving across the vast landscape, the realisation almost bowling you over.

Before all this, it wouldn’t have taken much to convince yourself that you don’t deserve it. That it was the horses doing all the legwork and Jack the navigating, that you haven’t really done anything but sit in the saddle. But something’s shifted, it’s been a baptism by long summer days and the great outdoors - and damn it all, you’re proud of yourself.

You came on this trip alone, with nothing but a broken relationship behind you, a suitcase full of anxieties and riding gear covered in years of dust and neglect. You said yes, perhaps recklessly, when offered the chance to spend a week alone in the mountains with a complete stranger and the glamour of sleeping bags and portable showers, when it would’ve been easier (and certainly more comfortable) to turn it down.

Somehow, you’ve come out the other end, long gallops over untouched grassland and starry campfire nights piecing you back together, only to fall so damn hard for this cowboy that you’re sure to break again when you get on that plane this afternoon -

An unexpected tug on your arm has you tumbling clumsily. ‘Jack!’

He arches an eyebrow and remarks, ‘Ain’t heard those cogs in your pretty head grind that loud since the first coupl'a days, darlin’.’

You shrug and, not wanting to sour the mood, deflect his attention with a lighthearted fib. ‘Just realised that I didn’t even come close to falling off once the entire week.’

When he chuckles, the thought comes to you that you’ll miss the way he laughs with his whole body.

‘You did real good for your first rodeo,’ he pauses, then flashes you a lascivious smirk. ‘You ain’t bad at ridin’ bareback either.’

A rebuke of his crude quip is on the tip of your tongue, but then your nose picks up on the scent of bitter coffee and maple syrup, which is quickly followed by the sighting of the al fresco table set up not far from the grill last night, the singe of smoke and whiskey still hanging in the air.

From a distance, you can see Poppy and Champ engaged in what looks like a heated debate, both gesticulating wildly with fork and knife. On the opposite side of the table, an unbothered Teak mows down his breakfast as if he’s heard it all before, and Ginger is feeding Jameson pancakes under the table.

It’s the younger cowboy who spots you two first. He freezes, brows disappearing under the brim of his Stetson when his eyes flit downwards to your interlocked hands. A huge grin would’ve split his handsome face in two if his mouth wasn’t stuffed full of half-chewed pancakes. The beans are well and truly spilled when Jameson comes bounding over, barking his demands for morning cuddles.

Champ looks up, his argument with Poppy promptly dropped. ‘Aha! There she is! Howdy young lady, we were just wonderin’ where you -’

He halts mid-sentence, his head whipping towards his right where the guest lodges are situated beyond the stables, decidedly not the direction you’re coming from. The penny drops as he takes in your hand in Jack’s, eyes wide, and all the occupants of the table seem to inhale a collective breath that stops you in your tracks.

But not Jack. He ignores the gawking with a practised air of been there, done that, and ushers you into the empty seat next to Teak without skipping a beat. Planting a sweet peck on your cheek, he settles to your left and unfolds his starched napkin with a flourished flick of his wrist, which he tucks into the neckline of his tshirt.

‘Mornin’,’ he addresses the silent table in an exaggerated southern drawl. ‘If y’all would be so kind to shut your mouths, you’re embarrassin’ me in front of my lady. Now, pass the coffee if you please, Teak.’

Fittingly, it’s Champ who breaks the silence with a rip-roaring howl of laughter, palms hitting the table so hard you’re convinced everything on it jumps a foot from the surface, the ruckus sending Jameson scampering for cover. ‘Well, well, well! Butter my butt and call it a biscuit!’

Poppy leaps to her feet, halfway to the kitchen before shouting over her shoulder. ‘We’re celebrating! This calls for strawberry milkshake!’

Teak elbows you in the side. ‘Just so y’know, Poppy ain’t the type to make strawberry milkshake for just anybody.’ He salutes you with a crooked grin. ‘Welcome to the family, sweetheart.’

It’s a brand of chaos that is distinctly Statesman. Ginger and Champ are fighting each other to load up your plate with far too much food over your protests, Teak pours coffee into your glass and orange juice in the mug, and Jameson is probing your knees under the table for scraps. You meet Jack’s eyes, and he grins back at you with a wink over the rim of his cup.

There’s no reason why you should be this hungry after the barbeque last night, but you don’t stop until you’ve polished off the sausage gravy and biscuits, the welcome richness settling in the pit of your stomach and making you second guess if you have any room left for pancakes.

‘Young lady, I hope this means you forgive me for the strings I pulled to set you two up,’ pipes up Champ around a mouthful of bacon, washed down by black coffee.

‘You’ll hear no complaints from me, sir,’ you reassure him.

He raises a fist in a pantomime of indignation. ‘You wouldn’t believe the grief Jack and Ginger put me through for playin’ matchmaker! I demand a retraction from y’all!’

Ginger raises both hands in surrender. ‘Fine, I take it all back, even if it means you’ll be downright insufferable about it! But I’ll happily live with that!'

Jack slings an arm around your shoulder. ‘It kills me to say it, but you have damn good taste, boss.’

‘Well, y’all know what they say - ain’t a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit!’ needles Teak.

‘Hey!’ You reach across to slap him on the arm as Jack chuckles behind you. ‘I don’t see you with a lid, you loud-mouthed kettle!’

Teak sasses back, ‘Fine, fine, how ‘bout - there ain’t a man that can’t be thrown, or a cowboy that can’t be rode -’

Right on cue, Poppy’s distant shout interrupts, ‘Tequila!’

Jumping onto his feet, the cowboy winks at you. ‘Hold that thought, sunshine - right away, ma’am!’

Unperturbed by the double entendres, Champ brings the conversation right back around. ‘Well, I do declare, this nosy old man gets it right -’

‘For once!’ heckles Ginger.

‘Joke’s on you, m’dear. I only need to be right once!’

There are oohs and ahhs when Poppy and Teak reappear with the decadent milkshakes in retro fountain glasses, topped with whipped cream and strawberry slices, distributed around the table.

‘So, what are we drinking to?’ asks Poppy.

You turn to Jack, holding up your milkshake. ‘To crooked pots.’

There are cheers and laughs up and down the table, and Jack clinks your glass with a grin as he adds, ‘And cowboys that can be rode.’

You think about the cassette tapes that you used to watch when you were young. How at the end of a film, the black tape is all rolled up in the right window, and you were always the one to press the rewind button on the VCR. You still remember the whirr of the film as it went backwards, round and round, right back to the beginning.

When the coffee has gone cold and the morning chores come calling, the breakfast table empties, and you hear the click of that button when Jack offers you his upturned palm to walk you back to your cabin.

The tape rewinds as you pack. The outfit you agonised over that first day or your introductory ride with the cowboy has been laundered, and you slowly fold up each piece - the jodhpurs, the plaid shirt, the socks - and put them into your open suitcase.

The tape rewinds as you close the door to the cabin, and Jack carries your luggage across the yard in one hand, yours nestled snugly in his other.

The tape rewinds as you walk by the stables - you nip in quickly to say goodbye to Whiskey and Bourbon - past the main lodge, and the grazing field next to the parking lot.

Putting your suitcase down, Jack whistles with his fingers, the sound carrying in the wind. You see a familiar golden head pop up from across the field, and your nose prickles with the threat of tears as you watch Scotch canter towards you, ears forward and tail swishing with an attitude you can spot from a mile away. Climbing onto the first rung of the fence, you throw your arms around his neck and bury your face into his snowy mane as he snoops around your pockets, always looking for treats.

You pull an apple out of your travel bag, neatly cut in two. Scotch nickers, his velvety nuzzle tickles as he carefully plucks each half from your palm.

Combing through his forelock, you coo at him, ‘I’m gonna miss you, boy. You behave with your rider next week, you hear me?’

The key is already in the ignition of your rental pickup when Champ puts your suitcase and tote bag on the backseat floor, while Teak and Jack load the Silver Pony onto the back.

Your arm almost falls out of its socket when Poppy passes you the promised takeaway lunch, packed into a chiller bag.

‘You’re flying Delta right?’ she asks. ‘I’ll call them up with instructions on how to heat up the food. It’ll be good as fresh off the barbeque.’

‘Thank you so, so much Poppy,’ you say as she pulls you into a warm hug. ‘I hope you know you’ve ruined food for me. Nothing will ever come close to being good enough.’

She winks. ‘You’re welcome, honey. Come back soon, ok? There’s more where it came from!’

Ginger is next, and emotion clutches at your chest as you squeeze her slender frame in a tight embrace. ‘Just so you know, I was furious that you wouldn’t give me a refund when I called you up all those months ago.’

‘What can I say? I’m a tough cookie,’ she giggles, and hangs onto you for just a moment longer. ‘I’m so glad you didn’t cancel on us.’

Champ surprises you, forgoing your outstretched hand and giving you a hug for the first time. His tweed suit is softer than expected under your cheek, and smells like pipeweed and leather.

‘It’s been an absolute pleasure, young lady. I’m sure we’ll see you again very soon,’ he winks. ‘And I’ll be in touch about the social media.’

Three steps away, Teak is waiting with his arms crossed, and he pushes off the truck to bundle you into his embrace, the hug as big and as bear-like as him, which makes you chuckle.

‘Anything parting Southern wisdom for me?’ you quip.

‘I’m all out, sweetheart,’ he says, giving you a pat on the back. ‘’Cept, y’know, that cowboy’s been grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet ‘tater all week, and it’s damn annoyin’.’

Jack rolls his eyes, one palm on your back as he herds you towards the truck. ‘C’mon, darlin’, we should make a move.’

Saving himself for last, Jameson trots up to you with a bark, tail wagging. The grass is warm and tickles your bare knees when you crouch down to give him one last hug, giggling at the wet kiss he leaves on your cheek.

The leather of the passenger seat is soft as you sink down into it, while Jack closes the door behind you and crosses to the driver’s side. Inhaling deeply as the engine starts with a rusty rumble, you look up when he gives your hand a grounding squeeze.

‘Ready, darlin’?’

You nod, though not entirely convincingly. ‘Let’s go, cowboy.’

The Statesman gets smaller and smaller behind you as the truck eases down the driveway, and the four figures waving in the rearview mirror blur into tiny shadows through the mist of your tears. The metal frame of the vehicle squeaks with the movement as it rolls over bumps on the long dirt track, at the end of which, Jack takes a right with a one-handed turn of the steering wheel onto the main road, and the ranch slips out of sight.

The midday sun streams through the windshield, hot on your skin. You’re glad you changed out of the jeans from last night into a lightweight dress, a slightly frivolous last-minute addition to your luggage that’s paid off.

Staring out of the open window at the rolling landscape, it takes you right back to exactly eight days ago when you were driving down the dusty road - except this time, the Bighorn Mountains are behind you, and next to you is a cowboy instead of an empty seat.

Unabashedly, you watch him drive. His right hand is woven in yours, disengaging only to shift gears every now and then. Under the brim of his hat, his eyes are on the road, occasionally darting sideways to find himself on the receiving end of your attention.

It’s certainly an adjustment to see him in the driver’s seat after a week in the saddle - Whiskey’s, then the Silver Pony’s. But it doesn’t matter, there’s no mistaking the competence behind his every movement, be it to ease his horse to a slower gait with the lightest closing of his fingers on the leather reins, or to redirect the truck with an effortless palm on the steering wheel -

‘Take a picture, it’ll last longer,’ he drawls, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

‘Not long enough,’ you grumble, shuffling in close.

He half-turns, moustache brushing your temple as he murmurs, ‘Have I told you that you look beautiful in that dress?’

You press a secret smile into his shoulder. ‘You sure you don’t prefer me in jodhpurs?’

Untangling his fingers to slide blunt nails under the hem of your dress and up the inside of your leg, he replies diplomatically, ‘I can see pros and cons to both.’

Your breath hitches with a warning, but the instinctive parting of your thighs gives you away. ‘Cowboy -’

You startle at what sounds like a sudden crack of thunder, but it turns out to be an enormous interstate truck charging down the opposite lane. In a panic, your knees snap shut, trapping Jack’s wandering hand between the soft cushion of your legs. To your chagrin, he makes a point of waving to the driver as he passes by.

‘Jack, he definitely saw your hand up my dress!’ you chide.

He flashes you a knowing smirk, and you shudder when he digs into the meat of your thigh with a firm squeeze. ‘Somethin’ tells me you enjoyed that, darlin’.’

Your mouth opens, ready to object, but a familiar heat warms the back of your neck the same time your throat goes dry. It’s the same thrill from last night, in the cellar, not knowing if you’ll get caught bent over a whiskey cask, jeans pulled down just enough so that this cowboy could bury his cock deep inside you.

Despite yourself, you shift in your seat, and Jack’s knuckles scrape the fast dampening seat of your panties. Choking on a strangled noise, he turns his wrist so that he can rub the outline of your folds through the thin fabric, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. ‘Fuck. I feel that, darlin’.’

Another car comes down the opposite lane, a smaller sedan this time, and you’re bold enough to spread your thighs, letting him slip under your panties.

The car swerves sharply as hisses at the wetness he finds, fingertip gliding slickly between the lips of your pussy, smearing the mess all over as your hips rock into the contact.

Through gritted teeth, Jack groans, ‘Darlin’, you’re soaked for me.’

‘Pull over. Now.’

He does - parking haphazardly behind a tree, barely a couple of yards off the main road before killing the ignition.

You mount him immediately, throwing your right leg over his lap as if pulling yourself into the saddle, the pain an afterthought when your knee jams into the control panel on the door in your haste. Jack grunts as your hips slot flush against his, his usual composure nowhere to be found as he’s caught between undoing his seatbelt, pushing your dress up and scrabbling down the sides of the driver’s seat for the adjustment lever.

The sudden recline of the seatback pulls a squeak from you while knocking Jack’s hat clean off, and you follow to claim his lips in a messy kiss as he palms the swell of your ass.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he bites out, rocking up against your pussy, head thrown back. ‘You’re so fuckin’ sexy.’

He doesn't question you when you climb over him, taking the chance to scrape open-mouthed kisses down your neck instead - and when you sit back down on your haunches, his pupils blow wide at the sight of you wearing his hat and a flirtatious grin.

‘How about now, cowboy?’ you tease.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing hard as his eyes darken. ‘You’ll look even better sittin’ on my face, darlin’.’

Your jaw goes slack. ‘Jack -’

‘I want to taste you one more time. Need to. Please.’

Something breaks loose inside you, unhinges, and you crawl over the length of his lean body to steal a bruising kiss that has him hot in pursuit when you pull back. The hem of the dress brushes his face when your knees make landing on the backseat, on either side of the headrest he’s lying on. Reaching for the grab handle above, you pull yourself upright, bracing the roof of the truck while you hover over his beautiful nose.

Calloused fingers bunch up your dress to the waist, and Jack hums at the display of your drenched panties, before hooking one thumb around the seams and pulling it unceremoniously to one side.

‘Look at that pussy,’ he groans brokenly. ‘Always fuckin’ soakin’ for me. Just beggin’ for me to taste it, hmm?’

‘Jaaaack,’ you whine on an exhale. Looking down at how he’s so wantonly eyeing you, your back arches with a confidence you didn’t know you have. Thighs splaying wider, you know he hears the slick parting of your folds when he stutters a pained moan.

‘C’mere and let me eat that pretty pussy, darlin’.’

From the moment his lips close around your clit in a sloppy suckle, you know this is a different beast from that first time he took you apart with his mouth, deep in the mountains, under the secret cloak of night. The afternoon sun casts shadows where his brow is creased in studious concentration, his keen gaze flitting from where he delicately holds you open with his fingertips, to your cleavage, to your face, and all the way down again. Every twitch of muscle, every whimper caught in the web of his determination to relish all of you.

In no mood to tease, each measured lick and curl of his tongue hits its mark, your physical reflexes compounded by this show of devastating competence. He draws desperate sounds that you don't even register as your own, your needy cunt leaking all over his face and chin.

‘Cowboy,’ you mewl, reaching down to coil your fingers into his hair, the strands beaded with sweat and sticking to his forehead as he doubles down. Your squirming only makes him tighten his grip on your hips to hold you still, the bite of his fingers bordering on painful. ‘I’m so close -’

The insides of your thighs are cool and slippery, a sensation you’re well used to now, his spit and your slick completely soaking through your panties. His three-day stubble rubs your sensitive skin raw, and the top of his Stetson bumps against the ceiling as you angle your hips to catch his puckered lips where you need him most, chasing friction.

‘Jack,’ you whimper when you feel the first spark of orgasm deep inside you, the spiral instant and relentless. ‘Jack, Jack, oh fuck, - I’m there, that’s it - I’m cumming, don’tstopdon’tstopdon’t -’

Somewhere on the fringes of your scattered mind, you’re aware that the windows are down, not that you can do anything about it now - you thrash and wail and sob his name, all the while he laps at the mouth of your throbbing cunt. The sounds are obscene as he slurps and wrings every last drop of you until you’re pushing him away, nerves firing blindly from overstimulation, choking hoarsely when you catch your breath.

Watching you in a drunken daze, Jack finally draws back with a lewd pop, wiping his thoroughly soaked chin on your knee, which narrowly misses his nose as a violent, full-body shudder ripples through you.

‘Relax, darlin’,’ he cooes. All your joints have capitulated, so Jack has to bodily rearrange you, dislodging your shaky knees from his shoulders down to his sides to pull you in for a kiss. You moan at the sticky release his moustache smears all over your face, the taste of yourself thick and heavy on his tongue.

His brown eyes snap open when you sneak between your bodies to palm his erection through his jeans, voice strained. ‘Darlin’, we ain’t got the time -’

Deftly undoing his belt, that damned flask-shaped buckle that looks as ridiculous as the first time you laid eyes on it, you assure him, ‘Don’t worry, it won’t take long.’

He arches an eyebrow, taking in your face shadowed by his cowboy hat, but stays put otherwise, almost docile as he lets you take the reins. ‘Is that so? And you’re so confident, how?’

Shoving down his boxers and jeans, his cock springs free, hard and ready. With a brazen grin, you sit up and line yourself up to the swollen tip, declaring, ‘Because I want you to cum inside me, cowboy.’

You’re not sure if it’s you sinking down on him, or him snapping his hips upwards. All you know is that by the time your head catches up, he’s driven to the hilt inside you.

‘What are you - fuck you’re so tight -’ he wheezes against your lips, giving you no pause as he ruts into you recklessly, the crude slap of skin on skin filling every space the truck. ‘Whatcha mean by cummin’ inside you?’

‘I don’t know how I can be more clear, cowboy,’ you sass, when a particularly deep thrust almost jolts you off his lap.

‘But you’re not on birth control, darlin’ -’ he tries to reason.

‘I’ll take the morning after pill as soon as I land,’ you promise, holding his unfocused gaze. ‘Do you trust me?’

The wind is knocked out of you when his strong arms pull you flush to his front, his answer immediate and irrevocable. ‘With everythin’.’

There’s too much going on. The coarse scratch of denim on the inside of your thighs, his nails scraping down your ass, the desperate whimpers he leaves in the secret place behind your ear. The air grows humid and thick as Jack feels himself slipping, your pussy gripping him so tightly that his eyes threaten to roll back into his skull.

He gasps in a breathless warning. ‘Darlin' -’

‘It’s ok, cowboy,’ you croon, fingers carding through his dark hair. ‘I want to feel you deep inside me. All of you.’

His bones rattle with a vicious shudder at your words. Snarling, he bucks into you at a pace so unrelenting that you cry out with each snap of his hips.

‘Gonna stuff you so fuckin’ full,’ he vows in between slippery kisses. ‘Been wantin’ to since the first time. Gonna fill your pussy with my cum, darlin’, you’ll be drippin’ with me for days -’

‘Yes yes yes do it cowboy, please -’ you beg, voice cracking.

‘Look at me,’ he orders, nostrils flaring as you knock foreheads. ‘Look at me while I fuck you full, darlin’.’

Choking on a whine, you feel him swell inside you until he teeters right on the brink. The raw need in his eyes robs you of your breath, and you grow faint on empty lungs as you sway with him -

And then his neck strains, his hips jerk, and you feel his abdomen cave in on itself when he lets go with your name on his lips, and his on yours. A primal roar fills your ears as he pumps you full of him, spilling into you again and again until all you feel is his cum hot and deep inside you, flooding your cunt, his whole body spasming as he pants raggedly for air.

A carnal musk hangs ripe and sweltering in the confines of the truck. Floating on a lazy stupor, you draw soothing circles on his quickly rising and falling chest through the aftershocks, his tshirt clammy with sweat, heart pounding under your palm.

Jack reaches up to push off his hat so that he can see all of you before pulling you in for a lingering kiss. When he softens, his spend dribbling slow and hot out of you, two thick fingers nudge between your thighs, and your back arches when he tenderly pushes it back inside.

His plea is a hoarse mumble into the side of your neck. ‘Keep me in you, darlin’. Take me with you.’

You nod, and smile, ‘Always.’

The airport is tiny, and Jack seems to know everyone you cross paths with. From the security guard at the carpark (previously a groom at the Statesman) to the staffer at the car rental counter (Champ’s nephew), he’s busy tipping his hat and dispatching howdy’s left, right and centre.

‘Small town, huh?’ you quip.

He hums, ‘Welcome to cowboy country.’

And he definitely knows the brunette checking you in at the airline counter, all the while glowering at you over the top of your driving licence.

‘Ain’t seen you 'round town much lately, Jack,’ she says, affixing you with a none too subtle glare.

‘Y’know how it is in the summer, always busy,’ he replies a touch too politely. As soon as he drops your suitcase onto the baggage belt, he wraps one even less subtle arm around your waist and pulls you pointedly into his side.

You bite your lip as the woman’s eyes narrow and she aggressively punches your details into the computer system, surprised that the keyboard doesn’t break. Once your suitcase is on its merry way, Jack wastes no time spiriting you away from the counter without so much of a fare-thee-well.

You burst into laughter, elbowing him in the ribs. ‘Brrrrrr. That was cold!’

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, admitting, ‘To be fair to her, she didn’t catch me at my finest moment.’

‘Do I want to know?’

‘Let’s just say there ain’t enough of this ol’ cowboy to go ‘round for the ladies in town,’ he winks.

‘Well, I hope they know there’s about to be even less of you going forward,’ you sniff primly.

Preening at the possessiveness in your tone, Jack ribs, ‘A tragedy, some might say.’

You huff, but can’t help a smile. ‘Well, aren’t I lucky to have roped you in, cowboy.’

‘And she can’t even lasso!’ he teases, leaning down to steal a kiss.

Feeling eyes on you, you duck your head, protesting, ‘Jack, people are looking.’

‘Let ‘em,’ he counters, prompting a gasp from you when he brazenly squeezes your ass through your dress. ‘I’m stakin’ my claim, darlin’.’

‘You already did in the truck, cowboy,’ you remind him, instinctively rubbing your thighs together, feeling the weight of his cum wet in your panties.

He hums, as if he knows, the sound deep and satisfied. His lips linger at the crown of your head, and he holds you close with his whole body, wrapping himself around your soul.

All too soon, the old-fashioned Solari board you’re sitting under whirrs into action. The retro split-flap display spins and flips with a mechanical staccato to spell out ‘final boarding call’ next to your flight number, one of five scheduled for that afternoon.

Stubbornly, you turn your face into Jack’s shoulder, inhaling him. He smells like horses and dappled sun filtered through leaves in a tree - you wish you could distil it into a bottle and take it with you.

You’re in denial, that much you know. You’ve warded off the thought of leaving too well, compartmentalised it and pushed it down somewhere it wouldn't be able to resurface.

But that’s the irony - even if you can keep it buried, it doesn’t change the fact that your suitcase is in the belly of the plane parked on the runway, that you’re about to leave Wyoming behind and put thousands of miles between you and this cowboy, who has gone uncharacteristically quiet as the minutes tick down.

Eventually, he murmurs slowly into your hair, as if the words are physically weighing him down. ‘C’mon, darlin.’

Your feet are heavy, dragging, and Jack has to practically strong-arm you out of the airport terminal and onto the tarmac. He holds you as you loiter at the back of the queue, until the crowd disperses, and the stewardess at the top of the boarding stairs gives you both a knowing but firm look.

That’s when the tears spill over the seams of your lashes where they’ve been teetering, held back by sheer willpower and clenched teeth. Ugly sobs bubble out of your throat, and Jack pulls you into him, his own voice thick as he rocks you soothingly. ‘It’s ok, darlin’. I’ll see you before you know it.’

‘But when?’ you wail, almost petulantly.

He answers with no hesitation, and it’s obvious to you that he isn’t just thinking on his feet, that he’s been making plans, but kept it close to his chest.

‘We have back-to-back pack trips the next three weeks, so I can’t get away. But next month, after the Kingsman’s rescheduled bookin’, I’ll take a whole week off.’

‘That’s an entire month away,’ you grumble into the soaked front of his tshirt.

‘I know, but you’ll need time to plan all the things we’re gonna see,’ he jokes, recalling your fireside conversation. ‘You’re gonna take this country mouse to all the museums and art galleries and all kinds of big city adventures, ain’t that right?’

You give him a watery smile. ‘I stand by the sex and Thai takeaway in bed plan.’

‘Even better,’ he answers, and you hold onto the way the crease of his smile lines bring out the soul in his eyes. ‘I’ll call you, darlin’, ok?’

Somehow, you muster the good humour to tease, ‘The cool kids FaceTime nowadays, and I hear your phone doesn’t have a working camera.’

He laughs, and you can’t quite tell if it’s tears clinging to his lashes, or if it’s a trick of the light. He thumbs away the wet streaks from your cheeks, nose brushing yours in a solemn promise. ‘I’ll get a new one.’

‘Just for me?’

And then he’s kissing you, plush lips slanting across yours, dragging slow like honey. When he pulls back, he breathes, ‘Anythin’ for you, darlin’.’

Jack has to physically unclench his fingers to let you step back. When your hand slides out of his, it takes him everything not to pull you back, or run after you up the stairs. He grasps the railing so hard his knuckles go bone-white as you turn back to him one last time at the aircraft door.

You blow him a kiss, your smile brave but wobbly. ‘Goodbye, cowboy.’

He swallows hard, wanting to be strong for you, but still, his voice wavers. ‘I’ll see you, darlin’. So soon.’

You nod, your tears catching the afternoon light as the stewardess ushers you into the cabin.

Then it hits him.

You’re not going to be in his arms when he wakes up tomorrow. You’re not going to be there when he reaches around for you - your face, your neck, your voice.

You’re not going to be there.

Jack watches your tear-streaked face appear at one of the windows, and he tries to smile at you, wishing he’d insisted on one last kiss. The heat from the jet engines and the sun is bouncing off the tarmac, but he’s cold, so cold, that his fingers have gone stiff. Nothing feels real, as if he’s been wrapped in cling film and dunked underwater, and he almost doesn’t hear the voice to his left.

The air traffic controller says apologetically, ‘’Mfraid we gotta clear the runway, sir.’

He fumbles over his words. ‘’Course. Sorry.’

Pressing his index and middle fingers to his lips, he waves the kiss at you, which you catch with your palm against the glass. Determined not to miss one single second, he slowly walks backwards with the controller beside him as he waves the batons.

He says sympathetically, ‘It’s always hard, but it gets easier.’

Jack glances at him with a questioning look.

He chuckles good-naturedly. ‘You ain’t the first lovelorn cowboy I seen on this runway sayin’ ‘bye to his city girl.’

His lips quirk despite himself, eyes still on you even as the plane slowly taxis away. He says, ‘I sure hope you’re right, man.’

With one last wave, the plane pivots, and you disappear around the bend.

Empty. He feels empty.

The sadness is helium in his chest, inflating between the gaps of his ribs, and he feels himself drift even with each footfall of his heavy boots on the concrete, while a dull ache ricochets in the hollow spaces of his skull.

Grappling for an anchor, Jack forces himself to focus, one thing at a time. Key in the ignition, twist, the whirr of the engine. Switching on the radio, it cackles between the frequencies as he straps his Stetson to the backseat, then swings one leg over the saddle and puts on his helmet.

The static starts taking on shape, lyrics and guitar riffs cutting through the white noise and catching his attention just as he wraps his fingers around the rubber grip of the handlebars.

I want to ride off on a palomino

Feel the fire in my breath and the breeze in my hair as I go

Why the hell am I even looking back for?

For I know, where you go my love goes

He misses the ghost of your arms around his waist, the slope of your nose tucked into his nape. He misses you. He wants to see your face the minute you get off that plane on the other side of the country. He wants to hear your voice before he goes to bed tonight. He wants to tell you mornin’ first thing tomorrow when he gets up.

As the 737 roars overhead, the shadow passing over him, he wonders if you can spot him from the clouds.

He’d better crack on and get to the shop in town before it closes.

Steering smoothly out of the parking lot, Jack takes a left, the Silver Pony kicking up dust with a purr as she cruises down the country roads -

The same country roads that brought you to him.

Fin

More notes: I've been writing fanfiction on and off for the past 17 years. Corny as it sounds, it feels like everything I've ever written has been leading up to this fic. I put my heart and soul into Palomino, and it's repaid me tenfold. It gave me the chance to write about my love for horses, to fall in love not only with cowboy Jack, but with Darlin', Teak, the entire cast and the horses, this whole universe that I built in my head. And it gave me all of you - the most wonderful, supportive friends and readers I've had the pleasure of writing for.

I hope I will have the chance to revisit the Palomino universe one day. But for now, I'm ridiculously proud for finishing this series and for giving it the ending it deserves. I don't think I will ever write a fic that I love so deeply again. Palomino was it for me, and I'm forever grateful that I got to share this incredible journey with all of you.

There are some special people I need to thank, please forgive me if I leave anyone out, I appreciate each and everyone of you ❤️

LJ @prolix-yuy: The wonderful friend and writer who made me fall in love with cowboy Jack in first place with her epic Westworld Whiskey series, which is also coming to an end next week. I've said this many times and I'll never stop saying it - there would've been no Palomino if not for LJ. Thank you for being my inspiration bestie, you are the literal best.

Ash @mandoblowmybackout: My OG bestie and fellow cat mum, one of the first people I screeched about cowboy Jack to, I treasure our friendship so much, thank you for your support.

Maddie @imaswellkid: Maddie, thank you for being in my corner throughout Palomino and for holding my hand when I need it (which is often). Talking to you about Palomino in person - well, talking about anything and everything to you in person - was one of the most surreal moments of last year, and I'm hoping it won't be long before I see you again.

Sil @psychedelic-ink: Sil, light of my life, thank you for always being there for me, for listening and talking me down from the ledge many times. I'm so lucky to have you, and to have you love cowboy Jack as much as I do. Talking to you is always the highlight of my day!

Peaches @ohsomightypeaches: Screaming at you/being screamed at by you about anything cowboy Jack is always so much fun, and not just Jack, but also Teak, Champ, etc.. Your love for this series is beyond infectious, thank you for your support and for always making me smile!

Skye @iamskyereads: Skye my love, I believe I was admiring you from afar when you popped up in my notifs with a reblog of the first chapter, and I remember how excited I was! So grateful that Palomino brought you into my life.

Heidi @wildemaven: Thank you for gifting Palomino with not one beautiful video edit, but also a gorgeous moodboard! You are an angel!

Jules @julesonrecord: My fellow cowboy aficionado, your enthusiasm for s'mores and Jack always makes me smile. Thank you for your support, truly.

Jo @mvtthewmurdvck: Thank you for listening to me rant and rave and holding my hand during my meltdown. I'm so grateful for you!

Snowsuit anon: It's always a joy to hear from you, and I will hold you forever responsible for sparking the snowsuit craze (affectionate) 💙 Thank you for your support my lovely!

A special shoutout to my lovely readers who have followed Palomino from the very beginning. Thank you for sticking with me, I really feel like we went on this trip together, all of us: @lola-lola-lola, @harriedandharassed, @witchisenpai, @miss-mandalorian, @fireproofmarta, @dreamymyrrh, @inkededucatednnerdy, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @freakrenaissance, @axshadows, @damnyoupedro, @thosewickedlovelies, @peridotsparadox, @radiowallet, @sherala007, @shirks-all-responsibilities

And needless to say, thank you for every single one of you (I wish I could tag everyone but we'll be here all day!), every comment, reblog, ask, tag for Palomino. You have been an absolutely joy to write for, your love and encouragement kept me going, I really don't know how I've been so lucky, y'all have my heart forever ❤️

Last but not least, thank you @saradika for these adorable dividers!

#palomino series #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey fanfiction #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x reader #Spotify

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thefrankshow · 5 months

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#photographers on tumblr #discarded polaroid #van williams #green hornet

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love-bitesx · 10 months

Text

hobie brown x photographer!reader

this is almost entirely self indulgent, because i’m a huge camera nerd, sorry everyone!

warnings: gets verryyy suggestive towards the end, that’s all, sorry folks :P

just thinking about hobie in love with a reader who's obsessed with cameras & photography. maybe you studied it at school/college, or freelance, or maybe just a bit of a camera nerd. bedroom shelves housing all types of cameras, cheap or expensive, film or digital, any and every type.

maybe reader isn't too confident in front of the lens, and hobie is just so goddamn photogenic, even when he doesn't mean to be. "wait, hobie, can you do that again?" whilst bringing the camera to your eye, waiting for hobie to move back into the position he'd been in on the couch, "lookin' pretty, love?" and you hum in response, "mhmm", the camera clicks.

polaroids of him in the back of your phone case, prints of you in his. he'd caught you off guard once, laying on top of him in your bed, slipping in and out of slumber as his large, calloused hand rubs circles along your spine. looking down at you through his eyelashes, a stream of light from the closed curtains fell across your face. reaching to a discarded film camera on your bedside table, he placed a kiss onto your forehead and snapped a picture. after you got it developed, he stole it from you, taping it to the front and center of his guitar, so he can see it whenever he played.

walking through the streets of london, you stopped and stared at the window of a vintage camera store with pure adoration in your eyes. "hobie! hobie, look, it's my dream camera." he stuffed his hands in his pockets and joined you, "is it, darlin'?" and you nodded, hands pressed against the glass, "well, we better get it then, huh?"

he'd constantly come home with pockets full of fresh film or new lenses that he'd nicked during the day. even if he didn't understand or share the same passion, he'd be your number one supporter, bending over backwards to help in anyway he can. swinging you to the highest buildings and nicest views to get a good shot, playing up to the camera whilst you shot him performing one evening at a local pub. he was your muse, and you his.

just the thought of him slowly nuzzling you out of your shell in front of the camera, because you couldn’t deny the photos he took of you were artistically excellent, and you had an eye for it all. you’re straddling his lap, innocently, and he’s laying with his head on your pillow. one of his hands is on your thigh, the other holding a cheap film camera to his eye.

“just pose for me, beautiful,” he’s showing his teeth as he smiles, “hobie, no—” you try and push the camera away, but he insists, “please?” and there’s a second you consider it, before refusing once again. within a second, his hand has come up to your chin, taking it between his fingers and running his thumb over your lips to shut you up. you melt to his touch instantly, and when he’s caught your eyes fluttering and smile forming, he snaps a picture. “perfect.”

he comes along to all your exhibitions. bringing his band mates, or pav, gwen, and miles, to see your photography hung up. as much as he hates money, and spending it, he always buys at least 8 copies, just to see the explosive smile on your face when you see someone’s bought your work.

his chin would sit on your shoulder, watching you work away at your laptop as you edit photos. he doesn’t understand any of it, but he loves to see you work. he kisses down your neck, shoulders, rubbing shapes into your hips and thighs as you edit away, mumbling a complaint anytime he tries distracting you, “concentrate, love, you got this,” he mutters as he begins to kiss you particularly low, in a particularly sweet spot, hands slipping below the desk, “doing so well, pretty.”

head over heels for this man

#hobie brown #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown x you #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x reader #hobie my beloved #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie headcanons #hobie #spiderpunk #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #across the spiderverse

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the-kr8tor · 3 months

Note

imaginn havifn a pretty pink princess room and you come home finding hobie sleepinf on your bed cuddling with like a cute little pink plush 😭😭

-💽

Thank you for the adorable request! 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Your keys clink as you unlock your front door, you feel your bones ache and your muscles shake from the incredibly tiring day. Entering your home, you finally feel relaxed once the homely scent enters your senses. Toeing off your shoes, you spot a familiar pair of heavy boots right next to your indoor slippers. Tilting your head, you follow Hobie's trail of discarded spider suit.

His socks lay next to his gloves, looking sad on the floor. Leather vest left hanging on the back of your settee, it's the only thing from his suit that looks remotely placed with care. You continue to follow the trail, his necklace and shirt are tangled with each other, you're guessing he had a bit of a fight taking those things off at the same time.

You stop by your bedroom door, his jeans sit by the doorway like some sentient pair of pants waiting for his owner. Creeping inside, you gently open the door to surprise him. The sight has you melting on the spot.

Hobie sleeps soundly on your frilly pink bed, heavy pastel colored blanket covering his entire body up to his nose. His eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he snores softly. Your four foot tall plushie is having the time of its life as Hobie embraces it, his sleeping face squished right on the teddy's fluffy head.

You wish you had a camera on hand to preserve the image. Instead of trying to dig for your old polaroid, you take off your layers as quietly as you can before going under the covers with Hobie and your apparent replacement. Reaching over the soft thing, you could only grasp Hobie's shoulder, thumb caressing softly at his bare skin.

He snorts in his sleep and you silence yourself from almost giggling. With one more snore, he awakens, feeling soft touches on his arm, he lifts his head up to look at you over the big fluffy mountain.

“Hi” you quietly say.

He blinks slowly, with one eye open a smile spreads across his tired face. Wordlessly, Hobie flings the bear away, it thumps softly on your carpeted floor.

“Hey, that's my djungelskog–!” Hobie quiets you down by wrapping you in his arms, your face smooshed right on his chest, his face snuggling the top of your head.

That's one way to shut you up.

He gives you featherlight kisses over the crown of your head, murmuring low. “You both smell the same, but you're a hundred times better than that mass produced bear.”

You hug him back, lifting your leg up to secure him in. Craning your neck up, you face Hobie with a giddy smile.

“Go back to sleep because you're gonna have to pick up your mess after.” he hums in reply.

He slowly kisses down from your forehead to between your eyes then down the tip of your nose until he reaches your lips. Hobie snogs you until you forgot what you were blabbering about. Tapping your back rhythmically, he falls back to sleep after a few minutes of listening to your breathing.

Guess if you can't fight him, join him right? You snooze right after, snuggling closer to him.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #hobie brown #the kr8tor's creations #x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x fem!reader #spider punk x you #hobie fluff #fanfic #hobie x reader #spider punk #atsv hobie #💿 anon

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lustfulslxt · 6 months

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Polaroid - Chris Sturniolo

summary : you and chris have been sneaking around for quite some time, and he takes pictures of you for his collection.

warnings : dirty and sexy sexxx

—

The flash blinds me, but I still see his pink lips curve into a smirk as the camera starts printing. We've built a small pile of polaroids already, and he adds the latest to the growing collection.

Chris and I have been fucking around with each other for a few months. It's been something we've kept between just the two of us, and we didn't really plan on telling anyone. We'd both sneak around whenever we could, stealing quick kisses and touches, every single chance we could.

We weren't exactly sure where we were going with it. At first, it was just sex. But, over time, we both cut off basically anyone that we were even just a little more than friends with. If I'm being honest, I could see myself with him, romantically. But I definitely enjoy what we have, so we'll see how things go.

"Crawl to me." He demands, his voice husky.

I follow his order, slowly crawling on all fours in his direction. Another flash, then the camera is printing once again.

"This one is gonna be so fucking good." He says while shaking the small sheet of plastic in hopes it develops faster.

As the picture comes into focus, he's groaning at the site. He sets the camera aside and places his hand around my neck, softly pulling me up to my knees so that I'm eye to eye with him.

"I'm going to destroy you." He whispers, his lips brushing against mine.

Before I can respond, he's ripping the playboy mask off of my face and slamming his lips on mine. We met in a heated kiss, one of his hands still on my neck while the other travels down to squeeze my ass. My hands run up his bare torso, linking around his neck while I play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Our tongues battled for dominance, and our teeth clashed together, both of us desperate for each other. Our actions were frantic and needy.

"You look so good, baby." He mutters into my mouth as he pulled away for a moment to catch his breath.

"I'd look even better with you inside me." I sigh, the wetness pooling between my legs at the mere thought.

He let out a loud groan, his dick twitching. He roughly tilts my head to the side and drags his mouth along my neck. His tongue and lips worked perfectly on my sensitive skin, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake. As he was doing that, he also reached behind me and undid the lingerie top I was wearing, discarding it to the side.

His mouth continued going lower, now peppering wet kisses around my chest and in the valley of my boobs. He was paying attention to every detail, noting how my skin was littered with goosebumps every time he touched it. He couldn't get enough of the way I reacted to him.

He pushed me down to the bed, crawling on top of me and grinding against me. I could feel his bulge putting pressure against my needy core, causing me to softly moan.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, ma.” He grins into my skin, his soft lips gliding over me perfectly.

I felt my breath hitch in anticipation as his hands pulled down the bottoms to my lingerie set, sliding them off my feet. Almost immediately, his hand is between my legs, pressing against my heat. A few whimpers left my mouth as I bucked my hips into his hand to create more friction.

A smirk pulled to his lips while he watched me writhe beneath him. I wanted him so bad, and he was reading me like a book. His fingers ran up and down my folds, slick with my fluids. His soft touch was driving me insane, the feeling of his warm fingers prodding at me in a teasing manner.

“Please touch me.” I whine.

Without another thought, his finger is entering me. I let out a breath, finally having something, even though I wanted more. He started pumping his finger in and out of me, swiftly adding another one between thrusts. I was damn near convulsing around him as moans left my mouth.

He suddenly pulled away, leaving me whimpering at the sudden loss of contact. Moments later, his hand was replaced with his mouth. He began lapping at my clit, moving his tongue in long strides from my throbbing bundle of nerves to my entrance.

My hands were entangled in his hair, tugging every time a wave of pleasure washed over me. He was always so good at everything he did, he made me feel on fire. He buried his face in my pussy, devouring every piece of me.

Moans were falling from my lips left and right, I was unable to speak coherent sentences. Just as I was about to cum, he pulled away with another smirk plastered across his face, leaving me a whining mess.

“Chris..” I breathed out, desperate for him.

“I know, baby.” He grinned, leaning up to my face.

After intently staring at me for a moment, he smashed his lips onto mine. I could taste myself on his tongue as he worked it in my mouth. He briefly pulled away to remove his boxers, leaving him naked, before kissing me again. His dick was pressing into my dripping core, causing us to both shutter.

"Turn over, ma." He says, flipping me onto my stomach.

He placed his hands on my hips, slightly pulling me up, indicating he wants me on all fours. I complied without hesitation, eager to feel him. His hand trailed up my bare back and pushed down on my neck, stuffing my face in the sheets.

His hands continued to roam all over my curves, squeezing and massaging so tenderly. I feel him place his hard dick on my ass as he leant over me, grabbing the polaroid camera that was beside me.

"You're so wet for me, baby." He groans, sliding himself back and forth between my slit.

"Mhm, you make me f-feel good." I moaned out, loving the feeling he was giving me.

As his dick was sitting at the top of my ass, a flash plays out across the room. I could hear the picture printing before it was tossed next to me. Once it finished developing, I could see his point of view, and it looked so hot.

Without warning, he sinks his dick into me. I gasped, pushing myself back into him. Once he bottomed out, another flash lit the room up. Before it even finishes printing, the camera is tossed next to me and he's fucking into me so deliciously.

"Fuck daddy, s-so good." I moan out, clenching around him.

His pace picked up, and he was thrusting faster and harder. The sound of our moans and skin slapping sounded throughout the room. His hands were going back and forth from holding my waist steady, to massaging my ass. My hands fisted the sheets as he continued to pound into me so perfectly.

"Holy fuck, I love the way you feel around my cock." He groans out, hitting deeper.

I couldn't help the loud moans that fell from my parted lips. He was fucking me so good; my eyes were literally rolling to the back of my head.

"You're taking me so well, mama." He moans, his hand springing across my ass with a loud smack.

A whimper that turned into a moan escaped my lips, pleasure coursing through me. I could feel my orgasm building in my stomach, begging for release. Chris' hand reached forward and wrapped around my hair, tugging me back as he continued to relentlessly thrust into me.

It was enough to push me to my limits, as I was now clenching around him with a loud moan. My legs quivered as I let go, cumming all over his dick.

"Mhm, yes daddy." I moan out, meeting his thrusts.

I feel him spasm behind me, then he's emptying his hot load into me, with his own loud moan escaping from his mouth. He slows his thrusts, still fucking his nut into me. My legs give out and I collapse to the bed in pure bliss, Chris falling onto the bed next to me.

Almost immediately, he's got the polaroids in his hand as he looked through them. As he admired me in the pictures, I admired him right next to me. His chest was heaving with every breath, his cheeks were flushed, and he looked so pretty and fucked out. I've never seen someone more perfect than him.

"I hope you know this one is going in my wallet." He smirks, flashing me the photo.

It was the one of me crawling towards him. I can't lie, it did look hot. I nodded with a grin on my face before placing my lips on his in a slow and gentle kiss, which he reciprocated with ease.

I never wanted to give this up.

Fast forward a few weeks, I was hanging out with all of the triplets. We were chilling on the sofa, the boys' debating what they wanted to get to eat.

"Oh! I have a Taco Bell gift card in my wallet! We should use that." Chris offers.

"Great idea! I'll go get it." Matt states, before running off to grab Chris' wallet.

It didn't hit us at first, until we suddenly shared a panic look at the same time Matt's voice rang throughout the house.

"CHRIS! WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

He came running back into the living room, the polaroid in his hand. He held it up expectantly, waving it in Chris' face.

"Uh- I don't know. It came as merch with some clothes I bought." He lies, his eyes frantically looking between me and his brother.

Luckily, Matt didn't catch onto anything as his eyes were looking back at the picture in his hands. A smirk pulled to his lips, and he titled his head.

"Can I have this? It's hot as fuck."

Immediately, Chris rose from his seat and snatched it from Matt's hands, "Okay, buddy. You're done."

We shared another look, and I could feel my face flush at the thought of his brothers finding out about our dirty little secret, especially from a sexy polaroid.

a/n : ughh, i feel like i haven't written in ages. i'm slacking sooo bad! not proofread as per usual. anywaysss, hope this feeds y'all <3 send in more requests!

#lustfulslxt #sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #joss speaks #the sturniolos #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #imagine #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo smut #polaroids #lingerie

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