#dude just keeps getting wider

[anniilaugh]

”So.. somebody forgot to mention it’s their birthday, huh.” 💚💛

#it’s marimo’s bday yay #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #zosan #one piece #zoro #sanji #anniinart #sketches #lol these were supposed to be a part of a different story but who cares #and the art styles don’t even match hah I’m just enjoying drawing what ever atm #might draw this scene into a comic I had something more angsty in mind #also goddamn maybe I’ll need to use reference next time lmao how do beefy guys work zoro you’re too much for me #dude just keeps getting wider

[breadbrobin]

fate

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

[part 2 to the trees]

summary: clarisse is being weirdly standoffish, and you’re not one to cave to that, no matter how much you like her. and no matter how things go, you still have to get your weapons from the forest.

warnings: swearing, arguing, fighting, monsters, PINING BUT THEYRE IDIOTS, everyone’s so mad at each other rn, kissing (AHHHH), canon typical violence, again probably slightly ooc clarisse but hey i love her anyway

word count: 3.2k

(uhhh so this is probably not what anyone was expecting for part two but this is how i alway a planned it, so here it is!! tag list in reblogs and also thank you for the love on the trees! i love you all so much <3 and i’d die for you just like clarisse and this dumb bitch here would die for each other)

(this is much more enemies to lovers than the first one btw so have fun)

———————————————

the day after capture the flag was always a little tense. of course it was. half the camp had just lost, and not many people at camp were good losers, especially not those who got their butts kicked.

this time, though, there was a new level of tension in the air.

ares kids didn’t often run the flag over the line themselves, and those who did were crowing about it at breakfast, then all morning too.

curiously, clarisse wasn’t. she was eating in silence, picking through her eggs like she was searching for something.

you’d never seen her like that before. no one had. but, it seemed you were the only person to notice. you always were, and you were okay with that.

your brother nudged your arm and shot you a questioning look, but you brushed him off with a smile.

why was clarisse so down? she’d won. what did she have to be upset about? was she mad at you? did you do something to piss her off in the tree? she hadn’t seemed exactly happy when she left.

stuck in your thoughts, you didn’t realise she’d met your eyes until your brother elbowed you.

“ow! what do you want?” you snapped, rubbing your rib cage tenderly.

“clarisse is staring at you,” he said with wide eyes. “dude… what did you do?”

“nothing,” you scoffed and stood up, taking your empty plate to the stack of dirty dishes, trying—and failing—to not look at clarisse as you left.

“y/n, wait up!”

you slowed down for sam as he jogged to catch up to you. there was a newfound bitterness in your mouth when you saw him. you’d never liked him, not like he’d liked you, but you’d never felt like you wanted to be away from him. not like you did in that moment then. but where would you go? to clarisse? yeah, right, she’d laugh in your face, regardless of whatever happened—or might have happened—in that tree.

“what’s up?” you asked. you couldn’t help your voice being drier than usual.

“just wanted to see how those arrows did you? were they good? i can make some more, if you want.” he looked almost eager to do so.

you smiled kindly. he really was sweet. “they were great, thanks, sam. best arrows i’ve ever used, even if i didn’t get too much of a chance to use them.” your steps faltered. “i did leave one in the forest though. i’ll have to get that later.”

your eyes locked on clarisse as she walked towards you down the path. two of her siblings were behind her, laughing, but she wasn’t. in fact, her jaw was set tight and she was glaring. at sam.

“i could come with you?” he suggested. “watch your back. keep you safe, you know?”

clarisse scoffed as she passed. “she doesn’t need you to keep her safe, tool-box.”

that was a little mean. sure, sam carried his tool-box everywhere, but you never know what might need to be fixed! despite yourself, you had to hold in a laugh. your eyes were alight with amusement as you locked gaze with clarisse.

she looked proud of herself, a jaunty grin on her lips. you couldn’t help your gaze dropping to them briefly. she smiled wider. it was infuriating. she now knew what her effect on you was, and she was using it.

“if she needed someone to protect her, she’d come to me, right, angel?” she tilted her head.

your mouth was infuriatingly dry. you nodded. “uh—“

“whatever,” sam snapped. “come on, y/n. let’s go.”

you kind of wanted to stay, but his grip on your arm didn’t leave any room for an argument. you trailed after him as he left, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see clarisse’s face darken with anger.

“angel?” sam scoffed. “who does she think she is?”

“uh…”

“whatever. gods, she’s just so—“ he turned and faced you, almost causing you to bump into his chest. you’d never seen him so intense before. “stay away from her, y/n. seriously. she’s bad news.”

“she’s nice to me,” you protested.

“she’s not nice to anyone. don’t be naive.” he turned on his heel and started to walk away, then turned back, his face softer. “come on. do you want to learn how to weld? you said you did last week.”

did you? you didn’t remember that. but you did vaguely remember a conversation with sam that you spent zoned out and staring at clarisse as she trained, so that was probably it. “oh, no… i have to… train…”

he looked disappointed, but nodded. “okay, that’s cool. maybe another day. or maybe, we can… go for a walk together? or even have lunch on the beach?”

you nodded absently. “maybe.”

“great, it’s a date!”

you frowned. “it’s a what?”

he looked happier than you’d ever seen him. he even kissed your cheek before walking off, a new spring in his step. you stood there for a moment, eyes wide, wondering what the hell just happened. then you heard a scoff from behind you.

when you turned around, clarisse was walking away.

“clarisse,” you said softly, jogging after her. “clarisse, wait!”

“go hang out with your boyfriend, l/n.” she snapped, her arms crossed as she walked. “he’s probably waiting for you so you two can make out in that sweaty little sex dungeon they call a workshop.”

your eyebrows shot up. “okay, first of all, i’m pretty sure it is actually a workshop, and second of all, he’s still not my boyfriend!”

she scoffed again but didn’t answer, stomping up the steps to the ares cabin and stopping at the top, looking down at you.

you felt small under her gaze, but you didn’t back down.

“what are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.

“you said i could come get a new dagger,”you said.

she rolled her eyes and leaned on the porch railing. “and?”

you frowned, looking up at her. “and… i’m here to get one?”

she regarded you for a few seconds in silence, then, just as she was about to speak, a new voice called out.

“clarisse, are you giving out girlfriend privileges already?” one of her brothers, marcus, you thought, stepped into the doorway of the cabin and peered around her to look at you. he looked like a stereotypical son of ares: buff, tall and mean. “that’s cute.” he continued, looking at you like you were an animal in a zoo.

“she’s not my girlfriend,” she scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

well, that hurt.

“yeah, we’re just—“

“we’re not even friends,” she added hurriedly, not even looking at you. “she just thinks she’s special.”

your jaw clenched. that really hurt. “i don’t think i’m special,” you snapped. “i think i want you to honour your word from yesterday or go and get my dagger out of the forest for me.”

“not my fault you forgot your dagger,” she studied her nails nonchalantly.

“but if you hadn’t thrown my dagger out of a tree and tossed my new arrow aside like it was trash then i wouldn’t have forgotten. and maybe if you hadn’t leaned in like you were about to kiss me, maybe i wouldn’t have forgotten either.” your gaze was as sharp as hers was, meeting in the middle with fire and lightning crackling between you.

she stepped forward, face to face with you. for a second, you thought she’d punch you, but you didn’t back down.

then she laughed. it wasn’t at all like her laugh in the tree the day before. this was her cold, cruel laugh that she usually saved for her victims. with a start, you realised that’s what you were: another victim of clarisse la rue. your heart broke for a split second before you pulled yourself together and straightened your back, meeting her eyes.

“kiss you?” she snickered. “get your head out of your ass, angel, you’re not all that because you can shoot a bow and climb a tree.”

you stepped closer to her, so you were right up in her face. “and you’re not all that because you scare away everyone who cares about you, just because your daddy’s a little mean. you don’t need to be a bitch about everything.”

you regretted it instantly. you’d gone too far. you knew that.

her face dropped and a hurt look flashed through her eyes, but it died as soon as it came to life.

you stepped back and turned, marching away.

“where are you going?” she called after you. “we’re not finished here!”

“you have something else to say to me, clarisse, you come find me!” you shot back, your voice hard. you didn’t start arguments often, but goddamn did you finish them.

you stomped into the forest, determined to find your dagger and arrow so you could prove to both clarisse and sam that you were capable of more than just shooting arrows from trees and running away from fights.

it was darker today. the clouds that covered camp half-blood permeated through the forest, leaving a heavy weight suspended among the trees. the air felt thicker, even, and the birdsong seemed quieter than usual. was there something around? something hanging in the air, waiting to attack you? drag your body back to camp and leave it on clarisse’s doorstep like a cat bringing in a dead bird?

or was your fear just because you were alone instead of with the rest of camp.

whatever it was, it put you on edge.

there was a clicking sound behind you, like someone was cracking a joint, but when you turned, no one was there. you weren’t foolish enough to call out.

you could feel a chill going down your spine, and that’s when you knew: the first shoe had dropped.

your eyelids fluttered and you nearly dropped to the ground, but you leaned heavily against a tree to catch yourself. typical. go out on your own, thinking you can take care of yourself and you get hit with a premonition. how’s that for fate?

you let the feeling wash over you; the pure panic of the near future and the warm grip of a hand on your wrist, like someone was pulling you along.

the future was not looking promising.

there was another clicking sound behind you as you finally managed to straighten up, much closer this time.

you turned around.

the bushes were rustling.

you suddenly realised what that clicking sound was.

mandibles.

two ants the size of german shepherds burst through the foliage. myrmeke.

there was the other shoe, dropping real hard.

“shit!” you stumbled backward, reaching for a weapon. you had no weapon. “double shit!”

you turned and ran.

the ants were fucking fast. they could have caught up to you if you weren’t so agile, turning and springing off in different directions every few steps, sending them careening into trees and rocks. that was the only thing keeping you alive.

where even were you? you didn’t recognise this area. hopefully you weren’t running directly for their anthill. that would be a real twist of fate.

then you burst into a new area, this one with a large tree—a large tree that you recognised.

“yes!” you exclaimed, dashing for the trunk. you found your dagger easily, then your discarded arrow too. you didn’t know what good they’d do against the myrmeke, considering that their shells were as hard as armour and, while force was good in some cases, you had to admit that sharpness may have helped you against them.

you couldn’t run anymore. your screaming lungs told you that. you couldn’t climb either. the ants could climb better than you and you’d be a sitting duck up there, no matter how high you went. but maybe, just maybe, you could hold them off until they got bored or someone realised you were missing.

it wasn’t easy, but you managed to deflect and dodge the myrmeke’s attacks. they were fast, but you were faster. you even managed a swipe at one of their legs as you rolled past, but all it did was leave a tiny chink in its armour.

you were beginning to lose hope.

honestly, what you wouldn’t give for a spear right now. your blunt dagger and slim arrow were about as good as a toothpick against these monsters.

just as you were backed against the tree that you’d once found a safe haven, you heard a battle cry. you could have sobbed from relief, but instead, as the spear-wielding figure landed on top of one of the ants, driving her weapon into the gap between its armoured plates, you took your opportunity to stab your arrow with as much force as you could into the other ant’s gaping mouth, slipping it precisely between its mandibles and, hopefully, into its brain.

it jerked back in pain and screeched, the sound making your ears ring, but it didn’t die. instead, it looked rightfully pissed off, and now it had an arrow sticking from its mouth.

as your saviour pulled her spear from the ants back, a warm, brown liquid sprayed on you. it smelled like ants always did after you crushed them, just a million times worse. you wondered if this was revenge for all the ants you’d murdered in your life.

“gross!” you exclaimed, wiping it off your face.

“grow up, bows, we gotta go!” clarisse. your saviour was clarisse. of course.

just as you were about to protest, two more myrmeke crept out of the forest towards you.

she gripped your wrist, right where that warmth was in your premonition, and dragged you away, making you drop your dagger in the rush.

“i dropped my—“

“save it!” she snapped, pulling you along.

the desperation in her voice kicked you into gear and you started running faster, alongside her now.

you didn’t use the same tactics as before. instead of dodging, you just ran as fast as you could and prayed that the myrmeke would be slower. clarisse seemed to know where she was going, at least.

“you’re such an idiot!” clarisse yelled as they ran.

“we’re doing this now?” you panted incredulously.

“you could have died!”

“we’ll both die if you don’t stop yelling at me!”

finally, gloriously, you breached the edge of the forest and stepped into camp. the myrmeke wouldn’t follow you there.

you dropped to you knees, panting and staring into the forest. clarisse was standing in front of you, her spear ready, just in case.

you’d stepped into a quiet part of camp up behind the amphitheatre, so there was no one around to see you, and no one around to help you. you had a feeling that if the myrmeke didn’t kill you, clarisse wouldn’t hesitate.

once it was clear that they weren’t following, she rounded on you.

you were still on your knees, your legs too tired and shaky with adrenaline to stand, but she didn’t seem to care.

“what were you thinking, going in on your own?” she snapped.

“well i wasn’t expecting to get attacked by killer ants within the camp’s borders!” you protested.

“everyone knows they’re there.”

“i forgot, okay? i’m not perfect.”

“oh, i know.” she rolled her eyes.

“gods, would you just fuck off?” you finally stood up, face to face with her. “you’re horrible sometimes, you know that? i can’t believe i’ve defended you.”

“i don’t need your defending.”

“and i don’t need your help!”

“you would have died!” she yelled, emphasising every word.

“but i didn’t!” you shouted back.

she rolled her eyes and stepped closer, anger practically radiating off her. “yeah, thanks to me. you’d be dead if i hadn’t followed you in there—“

“why did you follow me?” you asked suddenly, voice harsh.

“what?”

“why did you follow me?” you asked again, slower. “i didn’t ask you to look after me, clarisse.”

there it was again. that slightly relaxation of her shoulders when you said her name. it drove you nuts. you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss her for hours or throw her to the myrmeke.

she tensed up again and turned to leave. “whatever. i’m done here.”

“i’m not!” you gripped her shoulder and pulled her back around. to your surprise, she didn’t pull a weapon on you. “why did you follow me, clarisse? was it the same reason that you were flirting with me yesterday? and why you’re so protective of me? and why you hate sam?”

“i wasn’t flirting with you,” she grumbled. “and i hate sam for… personal reasons. and i’m not protective of you! why would you even think that?”

“that’s all bullshit and you know it,” you sneered.

“gods, you aggravate me!” she exclaimed.

“you didn’t have to come help me,” you scoffed, stepping back. “i didn’t ask for your help.”

“and i didn’t want to help you!”

“then why did you? huh? you could handle not winning a fight? you wanted to finish the argument on your terms?” your eyebrows were raised and your face was cold. “or were you gonna beat me up but the giant killer ants got to me first?”

she looked like she was about to explode with anger. “because i love you!”

the air escaped from your lungs in one sharp moment, and it looked like hers did the same thing.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer.

it was silent. she looked like she was trying to find something to say, but couldn’t. her mouth opened and closed weakly, and she shook her head, lips pressed together. you wanted to kiss her.

so you did.

she tensed up as your hands came to her waist, pulling her body and lips against yours hard. then, finally, she relaxed. she dropped her spear at your feet and raised her hands to your hair, threading her fingers through the strands. she was a softer kisser than you’d expected, but it was definitely her. it was all her. the tug on your hair, the underlying, undeniable harshness of the kiss, the spear that rested against your foot. it was perfectly clarisse. you could have kissed her until the sun went down and the ants came and carried you both to their anthill, and if you stayed kissing her like this, you wouldn’t even mind.

when, finally, you pulled away, you were both breathing heavily. all of the tension from the fight hid dissipated, leaving only a warm sparkling in the air, like a mirage around her face in the sunlight. maybe that was a sign? or a vision? whatever it was, it was heaven-sent.

she was smiling. she looked softer like this. gods, you loved it. it felt like fate, and you knew a lot about fate. fate was fickle. fate was cruel. fate brought you the arguments, the myrmeke, the terror. but fate also brought you this. this girl who was glowing in the sun like she was made of pure rays of light. the girl with a spear that she laid down at your feet and would save you barehanded if you asked. the girl who had sunk into your arms like she was made to be there.

“do you think i can get that new dagger now?” you asked cheekily, playing with the hem of her camp shirt. “i mean, i have girlfriend privileges now, right, babe?”

clarisse rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “shut up, devil.”

“ooh, devil. that’s new,” you teased. “i like it. it’s apt.”

“it sure is.” she looked down. “i’m… sorry, by the way.”

“me too,” you nodded. “i didn’t really mean any of that, you know?”

“‘cause you like me,” she said in a teasing voice.

“yeah, ‘cause i like you, or whatever.” you kissed her again, smiling against her lips. “and i know you like me too, because you so did nearly kiss me in that tree yesterday.”

she shrugged. “maybe. maybe not. guess we’ll never know.”

you found out at the next capture the flag game. and the next. and the next. she would go out of her way to find you, defeat you, then kiss you before running off to win the games. and honestly, you didn’t really mind.

fate was a fickle thing, but with clarisse by your side, no one could touch you. sam left you alone, people started treating you better, and you had everything you could ask for. her.

and whenever you two argued, you’d go into the woods together and kill some ants. after all, what says ‘couple’s bonding’ quite like murder?

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #dior goodjohn

[starrystevie]

eddie knows his crush on steve harrington is a hopeless cause, okay?

he's somehow been friends with steve long enough to know what he looks like when he's flirting, what he looks like when he has a crush, when his sights are set on someone very non-eddie munson shaped. he also now knows how to hide his jealousy in a fake smirk that he flashes steve's way when yet another pretty girl walks their way with her sights set on him and a smirk of her own.

eddie always watches as steve reaches out a hand just so to gently brush it against a lovely lady's arm with that charming fucking smile and sees how that lovely lady will always melt at the touch. and who could blame her? certainly not eddie, the same eddie who's had his own sights set on steve harrington for what feels like a life time. if anyone knows how painfully a heart can beat when it sees him from across the room and imagines a date and a future and a life with steve, it would be eddie.

but that's where it ends. steve harrington, the ladies man that he is, always stops things there with a smile and a wave thrown in the woman's direction as she walks away. it throws eddie for a loop every time. he would watch the two flirt for minutes that that felt like torturous hours for him only for it to end with a disappointed look on her face and steve turning his attention back to eddie like nothing had happened.

it makes no sense.

"i don't get it, man," he says one day as steve lets yet another girl walk away down to the opposite end of the grocery store aisle they're in. steve's turned back to staring at the shopping list in his hand and is muttering to himself instead of watching her walk away like eddie is, disbelief coloring his face.

"don't get what?" steve asks back, not bothering to look up until the silence goes on for too long. his eyes land on eddie's and he frowns slightly, shaking his head slowly. "... did i miss something?"

eddie reels back, eyebrows furrowing together and motions his arms every which way, from the girl's retreating form to the empty space around them.

"steve, you're just going to let her walk away and not get her number? she was obviously hitting on you, dude."

he watches as steve's face crinkles slightly before smoothing out and shrugs his shoulders, turning back to grab the cat food eddie feeds to the strays off the shelf. he lurches forward and places his hands on steve's shoulders to face him, watching as his eyes go wide.

"what do you want me to say?" steve shrugs again and eddie can feel the movement under his hands. "i guess i wasn't feeling it."

eddie sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face before returning it back to steve's shoulder. "wasn't feeling it... steve, i'm gay, not blind. you two obviously were hitting it off with your fucking charming lines and flirty eyes. you always do this and it makes zero fucking sense-"

"-you're gay?"

steve says a bit too loud for eddie's liking even if they are currently hidden in the pet food aisle. heat floods his cheeks and he throws a hand cover steve's mouth while shushing him to keep him from saying it again. he sees steve's eyes go even wider and feels warmth spreading under his fingers.

is steve...

"you knew this!" eddie accuses in a whisper and tries to breathe evenly while steve's gaze travels all over his face. "we talked about it with robin that one time!"

... is he blushing?

there's a sudden pressure at his side and he looks down to see steve's fingers curling over his waist. eddie takes in a stuttering breath and brings his own wide eyes up to meet steve's. it's like looking in a fun house mirror, seeing his flush creeping up steve's neck and watching steve blink in time with him. he can feel when steve tries to say something, his lips ghosting over his palm and eddie pulls back like he's been burned, but steve's hand stays right where it is on his side.

"i absolutely would have remembered if you told me that before," he says and his voice is a little breathless. "there's no way i was there when you guys talked about it."

eddie thinks back to the party when he and robin were huddled up on their couch together. argyle and nancy were dancing in their socks on the living room floor, bouncing around to some experimental track that had been badly recorded on a cassette. jonathan was sitting at the coffee table snapping photos of them, joint hanging from his lips and easy smile spreading on his face.

eddie's trying to pinpoint where steve is in this memory and that's usually the easiest thing for him to remember, but he can't...

until suddenly he can, because steve walked in through the sliding door with his shirt over his shoulder and his swim trunks low on his hips and water dripping down his chest and a cigarette behind his ear and the sunset bleeding in through the windows was painting him golden and he was walking over to dance with nancy with a wide grin pulling at his cheeks and-

"god, i'm gay," eddie had breathed out. robin followed his line of sight and nodded because she gets it like she has a steve problem of her own and that was that.

eddie focuses back in on steve while they stand in the fucking pet food aisle, focuses on the shrill jingle pouring out of the grocery store speakers and not on the way he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, focuses on the way steve can look good even in harsh fluorescent lights.

"well, now you know," is all he can breath out.

steve smiles, all white teeth and crinkled eyes, and his fingers curl even tighter around eddie's waist as he takes a half step even further into his personal space.

"you're why," steve says back easily and eddie reminds himself to breathe as the other side of his waist suddenly has a hand covering it, too. "i don't take their numbers, i don't give them mine, i don't go on the stupid dates they ask me out on because..."

the fingers dance up his side and eddie can't breathe.

"... they're not you, so why would i?"

eddie sends up a silent thank you to whoever is listening that they're hidden away from prying eyes in the pet food aisle so he can lean it and learn for the first time what steve's smile tastes like.

#under a read more solely for length one day i'll learn how to write short things #me everyday: oh this would be fun to write about! maybe 2 paragraphs or so! #and then this happens #steddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet

[gutsby]

Just Peachy

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel’s got a jealous streak and a bold idea.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-a. Loss of anal virginity. Possessiveness. Semi-public sex. Cumplay. Spit as lube.

Word count: 3.2k

Joel was too old to get jealous.

Long before he ever reached fifty-one, the man had known who he was and what was his—and you were it.

He got a refresher each time he split you open and watched your soft, pliant hole form an even wider ‘o’ around his shaft, moans as profuse as the moisture leaking out of you. He took comfort in that. It wasn’t often he required a reminder with such immediacy as he’d needed it tonight: thrusting you headfirst into the bathroom at the Tipsy Bison with your hands pinned clumsily behind your back. You’d laughed when he did it.

“What’s up with you?” you’d murmured, eyes alight with amusement as you watched Joel yank his belt in two.

You would’ve liked to admire the shelf of hefty, salt-and-pepper speckled belly that was left on display by the loosening of the leather, the tugging of fabric away from his heated lower parts, but the moment was so fleeting. Joel hadn’t even bothered to respond before he was smoothing your dress over your hips, drawing in, and—

“Shit!”

You seized either side of the sink and let out a yelp loud enough to stir half the bar. Joel just grunted. Approving.

“‘Atta girl,” he said, burying himself inside your cunt.

Quick fucks were never Joel Miller’s métier, it was true. He much preferred the drawn-out bouts of lovemaking that had your knees and brains in a puddle of mush by the end of it. But now there was a will behind the weight of his thrusts, a calm and calculated fervor that sent each snap of his hips moving faster against your own. You knew there had to be a reason for such an outburst, feeling his hands singe your hips in a bruising grip, so you weren’t surprised in the slightest when you heard:

“That loser ever fuck you like this?”

You made an effort to meet Joel’s gaze in the mirror, but it was hard to keep it straight when his cock was sawing back and forth between your walls at a breakneck pace.

“W-W— Who?” you stammered, teeth gritting at the last.

“Dipshit in the Sigma Chi polo,” Joel returned gruffly.

You were in awe the man had seen you two at all, much less read the Greek letters and knew what they meant. You’d spent all of five minutes chatting it up with an ex whilst deliberating which Creed song to queue up on TouchTunes. There was no way he could’ve known.

Unless, of course…

“Tommy tell ya?” you said in a breath, grimace slowly morphing to a smirk as you clenched and held the sink.

Joel groaned but didn’t slow. He didn’t like that look. Perhaps by chance—but more likely on purpose—he drove his hips all the way in until the head of his cock kissed your cervix. Your nose almost hit the mirror.

“Fucker!” you hissed.

“Right?” Joel said, pretending to commiserate. Then, fighting back a grin as your own smile began to give way to a whimper, “Dude looked like a real fucker, for sure. Just hoped he never got the chance to do it to you.”

So that’s what this was all about—stated plain as day.

Joel was surprised he’d said it himself, but with the way your wet, messy cunt was pulling him in, he had to know.

It drove him insane to think one drop of that nectar had been meant for anyone else but him. He was, of course, too old to be concerned with anything resembling jealousy, but then again, you were you. And you were his. And, mature as your Joel tried to be, the thought of that shit-brained chump ramming his dick in and out of the softest, sweetest depths of your body had him contemplating violent crimes of every flavor.

“Did he?” Joel pressed again, a bit more stern this time.

You felt a hand thread through your hair to hold your face upright in front of the mirror. You stared and saw your mouth hanging slightly ajar, saliva pooling at the sides and threatening to spill with every stab of Joel’s cock.

You were surprised you could even speak at all when that cockdrunk pout made a low, slurred, ‘Di-id he what?’

“Did he fuck you here?”

Here? Like in the bar bathroom?

As if reading your mind and seeing you start to shake your head no, Joel stilled your motions with his hand and used the other for more leverage as he continued to drill.

“No, no, darlin’. I mean— he ever fuck this pretty hole?” And, as if to punctuate his question, Joel plunged his dick so far inside you that your face did tap the mirror; nowhere near hard enough to hurt, but enough to get your attention. And smear your lipgloss on the glass.

You reeled back and moaned. Felt a pit in your tummy.

Why drag it out? By the look in his eye, he already knew. You wouldn’t be sharing any earth-shattering secret now.

“Yes. Yes, I—” You sucked in a breath when you felt that pit become a pinch and in turn, cause your toes to curl, “—he fucked me.”

“Once? Twice?”

“Three t-times.”

To your surprise, you saw the corners of his lips twitch into a smile. Like he was pleased by what he’d heard.

“Oh yeah?” Joel hummed.

You whimpered in the affirmative and tried to nod, but it was hard to do with his fingers still tangled in your hair. Your walls involuntarily clenched around his cock, and you could’ve sworn you felt an influx of warmth follow after. If ‘apologetic cumslut’ had been the goal, you weren’t quite sure you were succeeding at anything but being the latter part. Joel seemed to notice as much.

“Did he cum inside and make a mess’a her, too?” he asked, teasing now as he took his thumb and started rubbing the slick flesh that was being stretched and stuffed full of his fat cock. His pace was slowing by turns.

Normally you could not stand the thought of a man policing your sexual history, but with Joel, it felt different. Like he wasn’t really making fun at all but simply poking and prodding around for the truth so he could get to someplace else. Still thumbing, gently.

“You let him fuck this cunt and stuff her full, pretty girl?”

You had no choice but to nod. His hips had lost nearly all their speed and were now making slow, shallow thrusts.

“Yes,” you whimpered, “I— I—”

—didn’t even know you then. Didn’t like the guy at all. Didn’t enjoy having him cum inside a fraction of the—

“I know, baby,” Joel interrupted you, still rubbing the rim of your cunt with feather-light touches, “‘S’okay, I know.”

You wanted to keen at how affectionate, warm, and soft he could be—amazed by the way he’d made that switch—when the force of Joel’s thrusts halted altogether. He leaned over your body to press a kiss to the side of your head, holding your gaze in the mirror. Grey stubble licked at your temple as his cock nestled deeper inside you, and the weight of his soft and muscled stomach pressed in.

His thumb moved too.

Sliding up to the taut ring of muscles above your full, aching pussy, Joel drew a slow ‘o’ and kissed you again.

“He ever fuck you here?” he asked.

Something fluttered in your stomach, and it sure as fuck wasn’t just butterflies. You stared at the man in disbelief.

You’d just begun to shake your head no when the tip of his thumb grazed the rim of your hole and sank inward. You choked on a gasp when you felt your ass pucker, and shit did Joel Miller look smug as he’d ever been when those too-tight-for-you muscles gave in and sucked in.

“What the— ah,” you hissed, slamming your palm flat on the mirror. You couldn’t see a thing besides Joel’s elbow jutting out, tanned bicep flexing with his ministrations, but you could feel his thumb swirl gently again. Inside.

“Anybody touch you here before, honey?” Joel said.

“Nuh-uh.”

Admittedly, you were a little unnerved, on the verge of being opposed to what this man was doing, when you felt the muscles snap back—Joel retracted his thumb—and two other digits hovered along the vulnerable spot. Just by chance, you caught a glimpse of what looked like Joel about to blow a kiss or whistle, and suddenly you sensed a wet glob of warmth on the small of your back.

Then sliding, gliding down to your crack and between your two cheeks with an obscene heat you would’ve never thought possible: Joel’s spit ran down to his hand, and his index and middle fingers started rubbing it in. Circling the hole and smearing it more for good measure, Joel grinned and placed a kiss atop your shoulder blade.

“Tell me it’s mine to fuck,” he mumbled.

“Joel—” you started.

A trail of kisses led up to the nape of your neck as the fingers pushed deeper. Joel’s touch was soft both ways.

“Only mine,” he tried again, and the request was implicit.

You clenched around his fingers and his cock, feeling the former slide back and forth with near-astonishing ease. You would be lying if you said the sensation, paired with the blunt, wily lilt to his words didn’t make your legs much weaker than they were before. No, it wasn’t just the matter of it being a first for you but a first and only for you both—Joel claiming a space where no man had ever fucked you and making it his own, filling you whole.

Joel spit again, and you hated that you’d come to crave the sound, but the obscene squelch of his saliva mixing in with your arousal as he worked his fingers in and out of your ass was like music to your ears. You whimpered and found yourself nodding quickly, half-embarrassed, saying it’s yours Joel, all of this is yours to fuck and fill.

You never had been one to tell the man no. Whether it was his head between your legs at the most inopportune of times, a blowjob behind the bar, or a lightning-fast quickie in the drive thru line, you were always down. And Joel was wholly enamored with the idea he could have you anywhere he liked—now in any hole he wanted, too. You could see the fuckdrunk look in his eyes as his digits pushed in and his cock dragged out of your cunt, leaving you empty in one and getting spread for him in the other.

Joel’s lips were glistening with spit and the world’s biggest grin as he caught your eye in the mirror. Then he leaned in closer, pressed a kiss to your temple again, and kept his mouth beside your ear as he whispered:

“I’ll be gentle, honey, I promise.”

You were each a trembling mess of hormones, lust, and bottom-shelf spirits, and you definitely shouldn’t have been trying anal for the very first time in Tommy’s bar. But your pussy and ass were drenched, Joel’s fingers had pulled out and made way for just the tip of his cock to notch into that space between your cheeks, and both your minds were delirious with the idea of doing a thing so taboo and new. Full primal desire took over, and before you could think twice about what it was you were doing, Joel was squeezing your hips and pushing in.

What felt like a full fucking thrust of him was really just an inch. Your hand clawed at the towel rack on the wall and seized the bar tight as a burn shortly, swiftly took root between your legs and forced a whimper from your throat. Joel swallowed a groan and kissed your neck.

“Need it slower?” he said as soon as he saw you wince.

Stinging and stretched as you were with just the tip, the filthy urge to have him further inside was too great. Against your body’s best interest and the ache in your core, you wiggled your hips and nudged more of him in.

Joel’s kiss turned to teeth in your skin, and he cursed.

“Fuck that’s so tight,” he said, words more like a growl, “Suckin’ me in so good, baby.”

You beamed with the most sick and lascivious sense of pride and pushed your ass back again. You heard the squelch, felt the reflexive pulse of your muscles struggle to take more in, but the burn that followed this time was eclipsed by the pleasure you felt in seeing Joel’s face.

Feeling him grip you tighter, watching that expression move from bliss to guilt to ‘Sweet pea, you sure it’s OK?’ to bliss once again when you braced your weight against the sink and started moving your ass gently in time with your breaths. Then that tender brown gaze fell to the space between your body and his, and Joel just watched you fuck him, groaning each time your hole stretched.

There wasn’t a thought in his mind that wasn’t obscene. Practically monopolized by primal need, Joel Miller saw his cock glide back and forth inside you and seemed to be capable of conjuring no other thought than ‘mine.’

‘This sweet little peach is all for me, ain’t it, baby?’ Words as soft as velvet came tumbling off his lips, and he scarcely even knew he was talking, or grinning, or doing much of anything but fucking you and loving every second. The fingers of his left hand kneaded your hip while the ones on his right moved over your front. Thick, callused, and quickly soaked in your arousal, his middle finger made an easy trail to your clit and started rubbing.

You clamped your teeth tight in an effort to contain a cry. You whined into Joel’s touch, throat humming with that pathetic little sound as his groin sank deep to find the backs of your thighs and—finally—was inside you fully.

Words barely registered in your brain above the whir of your pulse in your ears, the pleasure unfurling from this strange new place, but Joel made sure you heard it when he leaned back in and murmured, ‘C’mon, baby, who’s this hole belong to, huh?’ as he tilted his hips up, body blanketing yours completely from behind. When you couldn’t contain the cry this time and your mouth fell open in a moan, he took that as his chance to slide his tongue inside and start to thrust, pinning you to the sink.

“You,” you whimpered feebly into his mouth. His tongue and the sounds of wet, sticky skin colliding over and over again all but drowned out what you were trying to say.

“What’s’at?” Joel returned, equally muffled but in far greater control of his words, it seemed, “This for him?”

“N-N-No, Joel.”

“Whose is it, then?”

You tried to answer ‘You’ again, but a shockwave of pleasure stole the air from your lungs, and you just whined in Joel’s mouth once more, head tilted limply to him as he shook your whole body with thrusts. You reached back to find a forearm, a hand, anything of his to anchor yourself, and you felt his fingers grip yours. Then he brought your hand and his up to the mirror, and he placed them flat on the glass—his big one overtop, dwarfing your own—and his hips picked up their speed.

Your lips parted just long enough to tilt your gaze ahead—Joel’s face and yours resting side-by-side in the mirror while he fucked you faster and deeper and grit his teeth.

“Use those words,” he seethed. Groaning when you clenched around him, nipping the cusp of your cheek.

If there was any doubt of what primal urges could do to a man like Joel, you were seeing it now. Feeling him stuff you full, pull back, and crash his hips into yours again and again while those sharp incisors took the tiniest, teasing, feral bites, it was like watching him come undone before he’d even cum inside you. His irises reduced to two minuscule rings around black, dilated pools; torso caging you in; breaths and groans and helpless moans commingled in a hot, plaintive medley.

Joel was too old to get jealous, and yet, he had never in his life wanted to hear the words that you were his and his alone more than he did right now, fucking you raw in a hole that had never been breached by anyone but him.

Your gaze remained on his in a sweet, near-innocent look—a staggering feat for someone getting their ass fucked bare in a dirty bar bathroom—and beneath his hand, he felt you squeeze his fingers. Your cunt fluttered too.

“It’s yours, Joel.”

The head of Joel’s cock took a nosedive to the furthest depths of you, as far as he could manage it, and he kept fucking you there, like he couldn’t bear to leave it.

“Say it again,” he said, voice hoarse. Pleading.

With what little strength you had, you laced your fingers with his on the mirror so he was holding your hand in a fist. Then you pressed your knuckles to the glass, squeezed as hard as your muscles would allow, and met his thrusts gently, keeping your eyes on him all the while.

“I’m all yours,” you returned—and when the hulking man with his grey, sweat-dampened hair and dark eyes and arms locked tight around your frame let out a whimper, you knew you’d said exactly what Joel needed to hear.

His hips canted wildly, quietly into your own, those tough and stubbled lips releasing sounds like you’d never heard before; never even thought possible for a man his size and stature with such a replete desire for dominance. This Joel was needy, panting in your ear while nudging his nose to the shell of it, ‘Baby, please keep fucking me, please, just, fuck—’ and seizing your hand, your waist, whatever flesh he could find while his cock pummeled a desperate and frenzied pace inside you. And, as much as you wished that glimpse of him would last, it was also what sent you both over the edge in the seconds right after. Your toes curled into cool checkered tile, Joel’s hand made an even tighter fist, and together, you trembled and cursed and groaned through your highs like it was the first you’d ever felt. In a way, it was.

As new to you as it was to him, that feeling pulsed and throbbed between your bodies in a shockwave of pure satiety. It left you breathless. Boneless. Slumping inward and into each other, at length, until your full weight was pressed onto that porcelain sink, and you were sure the force would tear the fixture off the wall at any second.

Fortunately, it didn’t budge.

Joel leaned even further into you and exhaled.

Evidently, the sink beneath you was the furthest thing from his mind, and all he could do was keep fucking his cum deeper while the spray of his spend was still fresh on your walls. Gently, but with intent, he drove his cock back and forth. He felt a drop or two trickle out of your wet, stretched hole and groaned, then kissed your neck.

Still in awe of what had just happened. What you’d said. Trying hard not to grin too big when he felt your walls clench around him, and you let out a low, shaky sigh.

“Feelin’ okay, baby?”

You smiled back.

“Just peachy.”

#EVERY DAY ​I SAY ‘MORNING’ INSTEAD OF ‘GOOD MORNING’ BECAUSE IF IT WAS A GOOD MORNING I WOULD’VE WOKEN UP WITH JOEL’S **** IN MY *** #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader[4.7K] a little oneshot looking into the relationship that follows from ISITTGG. just smut, my dudes 18+

Steve Harrington was throwing gummy bears at your bedroom window. 

It was barely dusk, the sun just setting, that pretty kind of twilight light settling over the town in a blue-pink glow. The grass below your window was still too long, flowers still in bloom despite the way summer was leaving and September had begun. It smelled like honeysuckle and lavender, the air outside was clean like chlorine, like freshly cut grass and the crisp like the beginning of fall. It wasn't as warm as it had been, but when you braced your hand on the sill and looked down to the space between your house and the Harrington’s, your boyfriend was standing there in just a short sleeved t-shirt. 

His jeans had a rip in the knee and his hair was wild, no doubt from driving around town with the car windows rolled right down, Eddie and Jonathan fighting over riding shotgun and the radio station. His cheeks were flushed, like he’d been going too fast, like he’d seen Chief Hopper’s flashing red and blue lights in his rearview mirror, laughed and gave him a chase.

Or maybe, just maybe, he’d been too eager to get back to you. 

He grinned at the sight of you, head tilted back, the crawling ivy that trailed over the bricks of his house brushing his hair. He had more freckles than ever from the summer passed, a dust of them over his nose, the leftover line from a scratch on his right brow from when Eddie dared him to land an ollie after a keg party.

Steve couldn’t skateboard.

“There she is,” the boy called out. He leaned against the wall, ivy and honeysuckle staining his white t-shirt. “Did you get prettier?”

You snorted, an unattractive noise that only made Steve grin wider. You leaned out the window a little further, pyjama shirt getting pulled by the wind. “You saw me four hours ago, Harrington.”

Steve squinted up at you, a half smile, a half shrug, tongue pushed to the inside of his cheek. He looked like trouble, some kind of James Dean daydream. “Point still stands, princess. You gonna let me in?”

You rolled your eyes like it was all too much effort, even though your heart was bursting against your ribcage and the thought of Steve sneaking in through the garden gate to see you, standing in wait at your front door so he could slip up the stairs behind you. He was leaning against the bricks when you met him round the front, cheeks hot when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to one, ‘cause your parents were in the kitchen making pasta and drinking red wine, greeting the boy warmly and throwing half serious threats up the staircase about keeping your bedroom door open.

You ignored them, closing it behind Steve as he wandered into your room, throwing himself onto your bed like he always did. The window was still open, curtains catching in the breeze, the soft static of your record player singing something he didn’t recognise. You watched the boy stretch out across your sheets, sneakers toed off over the edge and hitting the floor with a thud as he grinned at you. Steve had been yours for a month now, best friends for a decade longer but the sight of him against your pillows still made your inside somersault. It was a giddy feeling, when he coaxed you closer, sitting up so you could stand between his legs, denim jeans scratching at the outside of your bare thighs and he hummed when you wound your arms around his shoulders, fingertips playing with the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck. His hands found the backs of your legs, the soft skin just under the curve of your ass and he nosed at your sternum, grinning when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all night,” he murmured softly, lips grazing the cotton of your sleep shirt - his shirt. “Too soft, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the kind that made your feature scrunch up, cheeks warm and aching with that new kind of happiness that you hoped would never get old. “The softest,” you declared. “You were supposed to be having fun with the guys.”

Steve craned his neck back, face tilted up to you and the last of the sunlight that came through the corner of the window. It turned one eye lighter than the other, honey and whisky, his lashes casting shadows over one sunset coloured cheek. “I did, until Eddie tried to start a fight with Carver. Again.” His fingers pinched softly at the fat of your ass, making you squeak. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a kiss, huh?”

You pulled at his hair in retaliation, smirking when he only grunted in response. You ducked down a little to meet him, nose bumping his, loving the way his eyes found your lips, focused on your mouth. “He can ask nicely, for a start.”

You shrieked when you were hauled against the boy, laughter caught in your throat as Steve threw himself and you back onto the mattress, both of you landing clumsily amongst the pillows, on top of each other. He had you pinned before you could get your bearings, legs on either side of your hips as he grinned down at you victorious. He leaned in, crowding you, the smell of his cologne, smoke that you hoped was Eddie’s and not his, all around you. He was part of you now. Steve clung to your bed, he stayed in your sheets, left a part of himself behind on your pillows.

“Please, princess,” he whispered against your lips.

It was easy to give in, easier than trying to pretend you wouldn’t have kissed him without politeness. It was a sticky, soft thing. The sweetest kind of kiss, the kind that came from being so happy that you were finally able to put your lips to his. He tasted like vanilla, like cherry coke and Steve. It was the easiest thing in the world to let him tug you into him , his smile pressed against your own mouth, as he hummed, falling onto the mattress again and pulling you onto his lap. 

You petted at his hair, pushing the mess of it away from his forehead so you could sit some kisses there too, grinning when he squeezed at your waist, the soft of your hips. “You hungry?” You asked quietly, enjoying the warmth of him underneath you, like he’d brought the sun home with him. “Have you had food?”

Steve shook his head, hair brushing your cheek as he tried to tuck his face into the crook of your neck, nosing at the collar of your shirt so he could kiss at your throat. “Had some cereal, at like, ten,” he mumbled. 

“Steven,” you admonished, “s’almost nine at night.”

“Mmm, call me that again, s’hot,” Steve teased. 

You shoved at the boy’s shoulder, rolling your eyes and hiding your smile even though Steve was grinning. You eased off him, lying next to him on the bed instead. Your gaze met his, so close you could count those new freckles. “I could make you somethin’. Grilled cheese? You gotta eat, babe.”

It was lighthearted the way Steve pulled one of your legs over his hip, palm climbing up your bare thigh, so big his fingers were curling round to the inside, close to grazing your cunt. He kissed a line over your jaw, nuzzling into the crook of your neck until you squirmed. His voice was salacious, only half joking when he said:

“Oh my god,” he groaned dramatically. “That sounds better than head right now.”

It wasn’t out of the blue, that kind of talk, not really. Your sex life with Steve was still new, experimental in the best way. It had been almost five weeks of learning about each other in a way that you’d never gotten to before, working out how the other liked to be kissed, touched, teased. There’d been hurried make outs in the back of his car, on your living room sofa before your parents came home, quick touches and messy grinding on his bed before you had to return to your own. 

And when the time allowed it, when Steve got you to himself for hours on end, he kissed you until your jaw ached, until his lips were as pink as yours, working you up with his fingers until he could slide his cock inside of you and press you into the mattress. It was all new, shiny and glittery, warm bodies in the beds you used to make pillow forts out of, his cologne on your sheets, your perfume on his sweaters you stole. You shared bottles of sunscreen, swam in the backyard pools when the day turned to night and it felt like you were floating between stars, leftover barbeque smoke in the air as your legs touched Steve’s under the water.

It was a summer of sex and chlorine on skin, taking late night drives to the seven eleven in the next town over, icee’s for dinner, throwing gummy worms into the boy’s open mouth until he pulled you into his back seat and you could taste the sugar on his tongue. Steve was yours now, and god, your boy was summer incarnate.

But he hadn’t done that. Not yet.

You squirmed, feeling that too hot flush creeping up over your chest and neck. You rolled to the side, lying on your back so you could squint at the ceiling and try to work out how to make a joke out of it. You laughed, a little weakly, half shrugging and refusing to meet his gaze when the boy leaned up on his elbow to look down at you.

“I, uh, I wouldn’t know.”

Steve stared at you, one corner of his lips quirking up like he thought you were telling him a joke. When you didn’t laugh, he wrinkled his brow. “What?”

You didn’t feel embarrassed per say, in fact, you were reminded of a time - years and years ago - when you and the boy were trapped in a cupboard, standing too close to each other in the dark as you whispered about the people you’d kissed, the things you’d been to shy to do.

“What?” you shrugged, unaffected by Steve's bewildered stare. “So no one’s gone down on me, it’s not a big deal.” You tried hard not to sound defensive but Steve must’ve picked up on it anyway. 

“No, no,” Steve reassured, leaning in closer to dot a kiss to your cheek, another on your forehead for extra reassurance. “It’s not a big deal at all, babe. I just, I just thought - I assumed - you know. An ex would’ve offered, or something.”

You took the hem of the boy’s shirt in between your fingers for something to do, your gaze lowered when you shrugged again. “I mean, I don’t think a girl’s pleasure was at the forefront of most seventeen year old boys minds - or eighteen - and then, I don’t know, Chris--”

Steve made a face at the mention of the other boy.

“--he tried once, kind of, I think and, I guess it was okay? He didn’t really do it for long? But maybe I just took--”

“Did you come?”

You snorted, unable to help it and Steve grinned. Any chance to one up Chris Maxwell, no matter how long it had been since he’d had to watch you go on dates with him, Steve would take happily. “No, I didn’t get the chance to enjoy myself. It felt weird, and honestly, he was too busy trying to get a condom out at the same time.”

“What an asshole,” Steve groaned and he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, your jaw. 

“You’ve always thought he was an asshole, Steven.”

“Point still stands,” Steve scoffed and he pulled back, staring down at you with a sudden intensity. He worked his way between your thighs. “You trust me, right?”

You nodded. Of course you trusted Steve. You’d know him longer than you hadn’t. He’d already seen you naked, shit, he’d been inside of you. But there was something so incredibly new about the way he was lying between your legs, your knees by his shoulders as he pressed what was supposed to be a calming kiss to the inside of one. Instead, your heart jumped. It rattled inside of your ribcage, threatening to break the bones there. 

“Can I try?”

You were speechless, blinking at the boy as you tried to imagine what it would feel like to have his mouth on a new part of you. His tongue, his lips, kissing over your cunt. You were suddenly burning. 

“You don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want to, babe,” Steve murmured, sensing your hesitation. “If you don’t like it, we can stop.” Another kiss, this time a little higher in the inside of your thigh. “But I promise I’ll try to make you feel real good.”

“I know,” you whispered, hands fisting your sheets in anticipation. “I just— you wanna do this, right? Like this isn’t just ‘cause no one’s ever done it to me properly before?” You hated how unsure you sounded and you felt yourself go hot when Steve raised his brows at you. 

“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Steve laughed, not meanly, not at you. He moved closer, kissing a line up the inside of your leg until his shoulders were pressed underneath your thighs and god— his face was so close to the soft cotton of your pyjama shorts. “Babe. Baby, you’ve no idea how much I wanna do this. Just, relax for me, yeah?”

You looked down at Steve as he shuffled between your spread legs, curling his arms around the tops of your thighs so he could pull them apart a little further, making more room for himself. He looked up, his hair falling over his forehead, into his brown eyes. “Ready?”

You nodded, whispering a small, shy, excited ‘yeah,’ before Steve grinned up at you. You let yourself fall back onto the mattress. Eyes on the ceiling, body electric.  

You expected your sleep shorts to be rolled down your hips, over your legs and thrown to the floor. But instead, Steve leaned in to kiss over them, the thin cotton not doing much to dull the feel of his mouth over your cunt. You jumped, gasping, head lifting back up and off of the bed to see Steve smile, his pink, full lips pushed into a pout as he kissed over your covered folds. He hummed, nose pushed to you in a way that made the fabric cling to you, damp seeping through already. 

“Good?” Steve asked quietly, hiding his smile at your soft noises of agreement. “You like that?”

It was maddening, the soft lilt of his voice, teasing, gentle, earnest all at once. You wanted to cry out when he let his tongue drag over you, sleep shorts getting more and more wet as they stuck to the lines of you, your cunt almost visible through the damp fabric. Steve pushed his thumbs into the crease of your thighs, soothed you back down a little as he kissed your knee. “Your parents are downstairs, babe, you gotta keep quiet, yeah?”

His words made you spin, too dizzy to comprehend that you did actually need to shut the fuck up. But it hadn’t felt like this when Chris had made an attempt, a thirty second appearance between your thighs in the back of his car before he got too impatient and demanded you ride him. So you whined a little desperately and gasped at Steve’s touch, wondering when your boyfriend was going to put you out of your misery and take your shorts off. 

But Steve ducked back down to kiss over you again, proper, open mouthed kissed against the folds of your pussy, his tongue sneaking out every now and then to bump against your covered clit and you were wriggling in his hands, head thrown back, vision hazy because you forgot to blink, lips parted in a quiet moan. You felt fingers at the band of your shorts then, warm and sure and you lifted your bum up in anticipation. But instead of being pulled down your legs, Steve tugged up. 

Cheeks hot with a strange type of embarrassment, you gasped out, realising that the thin cotton of your tiny shorts were now tucked between your folds, a firm pressure on your clit that had you reeling. You couldn’t fathom what you must’ve looked like, but when you gazed back down at Steve, glassy eyed and panting, Steve was staring at your pussy like a man starved. 

His own eyes were heavy lidded, dark and heated, his lips parting at the sight of you. Steve pulled up again, just slightly, groaning low when the fabric slipped further between your folds. He can see the outline of everything, the soaked patch that’s clinging to your entrance, the bump of your clit under pink cotton. He reaches out to trace it with a fingertip, swearing when you jerk forward, wanting more. He pulls you into him, hands grabbing at your thighs so he can push his face back between them and he licks a flat, slow stripe over your cunt. 

You can’t help but arch up, biting down on the meat of one of your hands while the other finds Steve’s hair, fingers twining through the strands and pulling, hard. The boy moans at that, something you already knew he liked too much but it sends his own hips rocking into the bed, chasing any friction he can get, letting you know he’s enjoying this as much as you are. And once your underwear is soaked through, you’re fuzzy, feeling drunk and ready to beg for him to take them off but Steve is one step ahead of you, tapping your ass so you’ll plant your feet on the mattress and lift your hips for him. 

You do it immediately, muffling a whine as he has to peel your wet underwear from between your folds, dragging them down your legs before settling back between them, kissing over the soft of your stomach as he pushes the hem of your too big shirt up your ribs. “Let me see you, princess, lemme see those pretty tits.”

The breeze from the evening came through the still open window but you were more than sure the goosebumps on your skin came from Steve’s words, his rough, wrecked sounding voice. You obeyed, pulling the fabric of your shirt up until it rested under your chin. “Steve, please, I really need—”

Another kiss, just below your belly button, another, climbing up your ribcage and the boy hushed you. “S’alright, I know, I know.” He swiped two fingers through you, feeling how warm and slick you were for him. “Shit, baby, wanna really feel me, yeah?”

You nodded, a furious movement that made Steve grin. You settled back on your elbows this time, legs open for the boy, eager to watch. “Please, yeah. Fuck, it’s— Steve, please.”

Steve didn’t hesitate, pressing himself down onto the mattress as he spread you with two thumbs, groaning at the way you glistened in the last of the lowlight, your bedroom turning seven shades of blue as evening rolled in. He could hear sprinklers turn on outside, the faint hum of your parents television from downstairs, the way your breathing picked up when he blew over your clit, pink and swollen for him and his touch. 

“So pretty, baby,” he praised, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Don’t tell you that enough, huh?”

You scrunched your face at the praise, cheeks burning, your bare chest rising and falling faster and faster and faster. “You tell me that all the time.”

Steve laughed softly, ducking his head down to kiss you, a chaste peck in the dirtiest of ways, lips sliding over your cunt, still spread for him. You gasped, head falling back for a second, clenching down on nothing and you knew Steve would see, you knew Steve was watching. You heard him exhale roughly. 

“Talkin’ about her, princess.” Steve hummed, licked over his lips to chase your taste and dipped down again to drag his tongue oh so fucking slowly from your entrance to your clit. “Yeah? Talkin’ about how pretty this pussy is.”

The compliment made you pull Steve’s hair harder, hips wiggling as you groaned, eyes falling shut when the boy huffed out a soft laugh and pulled you closer, nose bumping against your clit as he pressed his tongue into you, slick, wet noises filling the room and making your breath hitch. Up and down, up and down, up and down, Steve licked you like a popsicle, humming when your hips twitched, pushing his lips around your clit and sucking gently, teasing it with the tip of his tongue before he went back to kissing all you all over. 

It was messy, wet, Steve’s lips and chin shining with you, his eyes fluttering shut every time he dragged his tongue through your folds, his hips rocking down into the mattress as he tried to ease the pressure in his jeans. He was harder than he’d ever been. 

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice broken and cracking at the pleasure. “Steve, please, I’m so close.”  

The boy murmured softly against your skin, a thing you were sure was supposed to soothe you but you just arched against his mouth instead. He pulled back, just slightly, smiling when you cried out, hushing you with wide eyes. “Princess, hey, hey, baby,” he kissed the crease of your thigh, licked the wet there that made your skin shine, growling at the taste. “You gotta stay quiet, yeah? Keep quiet baby and I’ll make you come, I promise.”

You nodded, doe eyed as you stared down your body at him, barely keeping yourself up on your elbows, legs quivering as Steve pushed them further apart. “Lie back for me, yeah? That’s it, good girl. M’gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, princess, tell me what you need.”

Steve sounded reverent, kissing over your stomach and the small thatch of curls before licking into your folds again, pressing his lips to your clit. “Fingers,” you gasped out, clenching your comforter in each hand. Your knuckles were white. “Please, fingers please.”

Steve didn’t even respond with words, he just sucked his middle and pointer into his mouth and pushed them into you, groaning at how easy they slid in. The feeling of being so suddenly full made your head fall back, huffs of air escaping from your lips and making the ceiling fuzzy, it was glittering. The stars didn’t seem to stay outside anymore. 

“Pull your legs up, baby, c’mon, open up for me,” Steve rasped, pushing your legs up with his shoulders until you got the hint and pressed your knees to your chest, letting them fall open even further until you were sure you were going to die from the way you were so exposed for him. 

But Steve whined, a needy desperate noise and you felt the mattress dip and lift as he jumped himself into the bed, chasing his own release as he gave you yours. “Oh, good girl, baby, that’s so good. That’s it, yeah? Can get my fingers nice ‘n’ deep, huh?” He proved his point by rubbing the tips of his digits in small circles, pressing into the spot you could never reach. 

It made your legs shake, toes curling and you were able to gasp out, “mouth, use your mouth, please,” just as you felt yourself getting pulled into the mattress, a hook in your tummy that was getting warmer and heavier, a buzzing in your ears like white static and Steve’s tongue was almost lazy as it dragged over you clit, soft and slow and languid. You felt every bit of it, cunt fluttering around the base of his fingers, sucking him in until Steve swore into you, lips parting around your pussy in a messy, wet kiss and he sucked hard when your back arched, legs falling, feet hitting the mattress, ass lifting up and into his face. You pushed yourself against his mouth, uninhibited, eyes squeezed shut and your hands fumbling for a pillow, an old stuffed teddy, anything to bite into to stifle your cries. 

“Shit, princess, so fuckin’ hot, Christ, that’s it,” Steve groaned, pupils blow wide as he stared up at you. “Touch those tits for me, baby, play w’them, yeah.”

The boy’s hands grabbed at your thighs as you obeyed, fingertips biting into the soft skin, pulling you into him, groaning almost too loud when you moved against his tongue, hips rolling as you came. You felt it everywhere, a slow roll into an orgasm that shattered, sending you reeling, unwound, undone. There was glitter behind your eyelids, stars, a new planet. 

You bit down into the corner of your cushion, soft, muffled noises caught between your teeth and you felt something wet slip from one eye, a tear that rolled over your cheek and onto the baby blue pillow case. You twitched, whining as you tried to pull away, overstimulated, easing yourself back onto the bed and trying to catch your breath. 

Steve ran his wide hands over your thighs, up and down, up and down, one pressing to the soft of your tummy as he soothed you. “Shh, princess, I know.” He kissed over your clit, cooing when you jerked underneath him. “Sorry, sorry, s’okay, just lemme—” he cut himself off to lick over you, soft, slow drags of his tongue that avoided that overly sensitive bump at the top of your cunt. 

You sighed prettily, soft moans as your eyes closed again, sucking in deep breaths as Steve cleaned you up, licking away everything you gave him, kissing sweetly over your folds before easing your legs from his shoulders. You lay spent, eyes closed and cheeks warm as the boy crawled his way back over you, dotting kisses over your ribs, the curve of your breast, grinning as you whined when he grazed his teeth over a nipple. You clung to Steve as he burrowed into you, nosing at your neck and humming, letting you grab at his hair and drag his mouth to yours. 

This kiss was as  languid and hot as it was when he kissed you elsewhere, his tongue licking over yours, the taste of yourself making you whine. You could feel Steve smiling, lips still pressed to yours, his nose against your cheek. He leaned back, just slightly, one hand pushing your hair from your damp forehead, grinning wide at the sight of your glassy eyes. 

“You okay?” He asked softly, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice. 

You mumbled something Steve couldn't make out and clung a little tighter, pulling the boy down until he was pressed against your chest and you could hide your face in his neck.  

“That good?” Steve tried to tease but he couldn’t help but sound sincere, you were still trembling, doing your best to burrow into him. 

“Insane,” you said into the cotton of his shirt, lips pressed to his shoulder. “Stupid good, yeah. Fuck.” You were whimpering a little, voice soft and half asleep sounding and it made Steve beam. You wriggled against him, the breeze from the window seeming cooler now that Steve wasn’t working you up and your thigh brushed against a damp patch against his crotch. “Did you come?”

There was no judgement behind your answer, just quiet awe. You smiled when Steve scoffed, nodding as he leaned in to peck at your lips again. “Uh, ‘course I did. How could I not? You were grinding all over me like some kinda wet dream, princess shit—”

“Steve,” you whined, a little embarrassed as the high wore off, cheeks too hot when Steve laughed. You crawled over him, thighs straddling his lap. Your shirt - Steve’s shirt - fell back down, pooling your waist and covering you back up. Steve pouted, hands diving underneath anyway, fingers spanning over your thighs. You raised a brow. “You still hungry?”

Steve smirked, squeezing at your legs, revelling in the warmth he could still feel from between them. “Oh, she’s got jokes now, huh?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington one shot

[froggibus]

Mask Off - Stu Macher! Ghostface

Pairing: Stu Macher! Ghostface x f! reader

Genre: smut/NSFW (w a sprinkle of hurt/comfort cause, cmon guys, it’s me)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: at a party at Stu’s, the last thing you’re expecting is for the masked killer to save you from the man who tried to assault you, or for him to take his turn right after

CW: SA, murder, blood, knives, violence, standard Ghostface stuff, breath play, knife play, unprotected sex (make good choices), creampie, blood kink?, hints of a mask kink, degradation, lots of dirty talk, reader is referred to as a slut/whore, they fuck next to a dead body, established relationship, soft! Stu, Ghostface reveal

guys I just watched Scream 6 and I am so soft for Stu rn idek why. i usually don’t write stuff like this but the Scream movies are some of my favorites (def not cause me and the final girl have the same name…definitely not) and I’ve had HARD ghostface brain rot lately so…here’s this lol

————

Sitting on the living room floor of your boyfriend’s house, half drunk and watching movies, everything feels right. Sure, there’s a psycho killer on the loose, and everyone in the house is technically breaking curfew, but you couldn’t care less. Even with Randy geeking out over the Jamie Lee horror movie playing on the tv, you can’t complain. 

The guy next to you on the floor, a couple more beers in than you are, shuffles closer. You side eye him, but don’t say anything. You find yourself looking for Stu—you know how jealous he can get. But your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. 

You take a deep breath and another chug of your beer, hoping to calm the nerves that have found their way into your stomach. You don’t like the idea of your boyfriend being MIA when there’s a killer around. 

Your nerves are shoved away when you feel a warm hand on your thigh. You turn to the guy next to you, who gives you a nod and a smirk. 

He must be an idiot, or not well versed in the politics of Woodsboro Seniors, or else he would know that he’s in your boyfriend's house, trying to feel you up. You roll your eyes, finish chugging your drink, and head upstairs to try to find your boyfriend. 

You don’t even hear the guy get up behind you. 

You duck into Stu’s room, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Not wanting to go back downstairs, you fall backwards onto his bed and relax into the sheets. They smell like him, and the scent is so comforting, it’s almost enough to put you to sleep. 

Almost. 

The door opens and you sit up instantly, expecting to find your boyfriend but disappointed to see the guy from earlier. 

“What do you want?” You squint at him. 

“You disappeared on me, baby.”

“Look, I don’t even know who you are, and clearly you don’t know me, or else you would know that this is my boyfriend’s house. And believe me when I say he’s the jealous type.”

He sits down on the bed, and you shuffle to the other side, drawing your knees to your chest. He seems to take that as a challenge, smirking even wider. 

“Your boyfriend never needs to know.”

“Get lost, dude.”

He’s on you in an instant, lips pressing against yours, body on top of yours. You shove him hard, but that only makes him lean in more. He’s so much bigger than you, so much stronger. The reality of your situation starts to set in, and you drive a knee into his groin. 

He groans, pulling back and slapping you hard. He squeezes your face, eyes angry. “Listen, slut, hit me again and the killer on the loose is the last thing you have to worry about. Do you understand?”

You go to bite his finger but he clamped his hand over your mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

He presses his hand down hard enough to keep you quiet, trailing his hand up your stomach. You squirm as his hand gets to your chest, still trying to deter him. 

Just as he slips his hand up your shirt, you see the cloaked figure behind him. You let out a gasp that he takes as you enjoying what he’s doing. 

You think it’s a prank, that someone is just trying to scare the people hooking up at the party. But the mask…the cloak…it’s all too real. And then you see the glint of silver and your blood runs cold. 

You want to scream and run away, but at the same time, you want the man on top of you to suffer. You want to hear the knife sink into him and you want to see his blood come pouring out. And with the way he’s touching you, you would rather die than have to tell Stu what happened. 

Not that he wouldn’t understand, but because you’re sure things would never be the same. 

The guy doesn’t even notice the figure approaching, doesn’t even notice the way you’re almost crying into his palm. The figure, that the news has dubbed Ghostface, tilts his head at you. 

You should be scared, you should be running, but you aren’t. Something about him, something about the way he’s looking at you, makes you feel almost safe. At least, safer than the guy currently forcing himself on you. 

He pulls his arm back, revealing the sharpened knife once more, before driving it into the back of the man on top of you. He spasms, blood dripping out of his mouth and down your neck. 

Ghostface doesn’t let up, though. He drives the knife in and out of him, penetrating his skin over and over and over. The sound of sharp metal against soft skin fills your ears, and warm blood covers you. 

Finally, the man goes limp, and Ghostface practically throws him off of the bed. He crawls on top of you, replacing the dead man. His body is warm on yours, and he smells like blood and an almost familiar cologne. 

He slides the flat end of the blade across your cheek, down your jaw and onto your throat. You suck in a breath, trying not to let your fear show. You can hear his breathing through the mask, and the feeling of the cold metal on your skin sends waves of arousal through you. 

You should probably consult a therapist on that, given you survive. 

He pulls the knife away from you, tucking it into his waistband. You squint. Isn’t he going to kill you? 

He lifts up his hands, and for a second you think he’s going to strangle you. But no, he does something that surprises you even more. He removes the mask. 

You gasp, covering your mouth in shock. You’re not sure who you were expecting, but it wasn’t your boyfriend. 

He tilts his head at you, giving you a lopsided grin. “Sorry, baby. I lost my temper.”

You nod slowly, the idea that Stu is the Ghostface killer not quite registering in your mind. He wipes blood off of your face, licking it off of his fingers. Something about the action is so erotic that it has you clenching your thighs. 

“I-I’m sorry,” your voice comes out strained. You’re not even sure what you’re apologizing for—for the guy who assaulted you or for your shock or for seeing him without his mask. 

He pushes the hair out of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding and your clit throbbing. 

His hand moves from your hair to your neck, squeezing gently. Stu was always fascinated with stuff like that—pain and breath play and knives. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t fascinate you, too. 

He kisses you, lips hungrily devouring yours. You can taste blood, but you’re not sure if it’s from his face or yours. His hand slides down your waist, bunching up the fabric of your t-shirt and sliding his hand under it. 

“Are you scared?” There’s a smirk on his lips, something dark in his eyes. 

“A little,” you admit. 

“Of me?”

“Not of you. Never of you.”

He just killed a man in front of you—on top of you—but you’ve never felt more safe. And that’s what scares you. Your own desires, your own fucked up thoughts and feelings. 

“You know I’d never let anything hurt you,” he taps his fingers on your throat. “I would never hurt you. You’re mine, and mine alone.”

You tug him to you by the collar of his cloak, shoving your lips against his. He smiles against you, tightening his grip on your throat. Not enough to hurt, just enough so that you can feel the pressure. 

He slides his hand into your pants, laughing at how wet your panties are. He rubs your clit through the fabric, moving his lips to suck and bite at your neck. 

“D’you want me, baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Please.”

He’s ripping your panties off and tugging his boxers down in an instant, pulling up his cloak just enough so that he has easy access. He rubs the head of his cock through your folds, gathering up your slick. He kisses you deeply just as he sinks his cock inside of you. 

You never get used to the stretch, the delicious feeling of him moulding your walls to the shape of his cock. 

He pulls out and thrusts back in, his cock going even deeper. You whine, throwing your head back. He laughs at your moans and keeps going, shoving into you at a brutal pace. You cry out in response, the moans falling out before you can stop them. 

His hand clamps over your mouth. “Shh, be quiet. Do you really want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me? Do you want someone to walk in on you fucking the killer like a whore?”

His words only make you wetter, pussy clenching tighter around him. It only eggs him on more, his thrusts becoming harder and more forceful as he nears his high. 

“Mm, I forgot you like being my slut,” he laughs in your ear, gasping whenever you clench around him. “Fucking me in the bed of the guy I just killed for you?”

You hate how much his words turn you on, hate how they only push you further towards your climax. You dig your nails into his shoulders, bunching up the black fabric. 

He slams harder into you and you know he’s close. You wrap your arms around him, tugging him in closer. He thrust a few more times, movements sloppier, before his cock twitches and you’re filled with hot cum. 

The feeling of his cum pooling inside of you is enough to send you over the edge, leaving you a whimpering, shaking mess beneath him. 

He kisses your forehead, holding you closer to him. “As sexy as you look covered in blood, you should probably change.”

“What are you gonna do?”

He plants a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, ‘kay?”

You nod, rolling out of his arms and standing up on shaky legs. You’re covered in bed, your clothes absolutely soaked through. You head straight for the bathroom, soaking a cloth to wipe the blood from your skin. 

“Y/n,” he knocks gently, “I left some of my clothes out here for you to change into. Go through the window and head through the basement door—I don’t want you getting caught up in this.”

You change into his clothes, trying to ignore the light bruises on your throat and thighs. You love how his clothes fit on you, though. You love being claimed by him. 

You do as he says, sneaking through the basement door and pretending like you were just bringing up another case of beer. 

Randy turns his head to look at you, and for a minute you think that you’re caught. He’s going to say something about your disappearance and change of clothes. 

Instead, he just shakes his head at you. “Where’ve you been? You missed Basic Instinct!”

An arm wraps around your shoulder, the familiar cream coloured sweater draping over you. “She was just helping me get more beer,” Stu shrugs. 

Randy makes a face, but says nothing. He turns back to the tv, and Stu takes that as an opportunity to kiss your neck. “Just so you know,” his voice is barely a whisper in your ear, “I’m keeping the mask on next time.”

#ghostface #ghost face #stu macher #stu macher x reader #stu macher x you #stu macher x y/n #stu macher ghostface #scream #scream x you #scream x reader #ghostface x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x y/n #ghostface smut #stu macher smut #scream smut #ghostface x female reader #stu macher x female reader #x you #x reader #x reader smut

[nanamistie]

Having your revenge over hq boys who made you feel horrible.

Wearings: suggestive, smut, fluff if you squint, angst from previous fic.

(Also, please read first part, you can find it right here.)

Oikawa Tooru

The girl he chose, over you, left him. So of course, like a hurt dog, he came running back to you. He had a spare key to your shared apartment, so he proceeded to unlock the door and come search for you, only to find you like this with his best friend.

You sat on top of Iwaizumi, on his lap, in a beautiful red lace lingerie that your ex boyfriend, Oikawa, just bought for you. Both of you shared a passionate make out session, his hands traveling down your body, that now, Oikawa couldn’t touch anymore.

His face dropped. You didn’t acknowledge his presence, but Iwaizumi did, so he started to kiss your neck, while keeping eye contact with Oikawa. He pulled such beautiful moans from you, just by kissing you, like Oikawa never heard before. Oikawa's face got red, he was so ashamed of himself, so he quickly left.

You hear the door to your apartment shut, you jolt at the sound. “What was that?” you asked him. “Nothing princess, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours”.

Atsumu Miya

The next day, he felt your side of the bed cold. So he decided to look for you. You weren’t in the house, so the only thought he had was to call his twin brother. “Dude, have you seen y/n?” seen? oh, he did more than just see you. “Yeah, i’ve seen her, she crashed at my place this morning”. Atsumu sighed, now relieved that he knew you were safe. “Good, good. Is she okay?”

Osamu looks down at you, and caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Dude, if you were worried about her, you at least could’ve called her earlier.”. “I know, I was such an idiot, I should never have done that to her, I’m just scared it’s too late.” Osamu chuckles. “It is pretty late.”

“I know, can I at least talk to her, please?” he wanted to make up things with you, but little did he know that you already moved on.

“She would’ve talked to you, but her mouth is busy doing something else, right babygirl?” He looks down at you, admiring you for crying of pleasure instead of crying after his stupid brother.

Kuroo Tetsuro

A few days later, he walked on the alley in front of your house, only to stop when he saw a car parked next to it.

The car was shaking and the windows were steamed up, you could barely see what's going on in the car, but I'm pretty sure your ex boyfriend Kuroo wouldn’t like to see who’s in that car.

“Tsuki, please, somebody could see us. W-What if Kuroo comes back?” he laughed and picked up the pace “Then he better watch and learn! I bet he never made you feel like this.”

Kuroo didn’t move a single muscle, he thought of what could happen, but he wished it wasn’t true. But the moment Tsukishima got out of the car, with wet hair and wrinkled clothes, it was clear as day that he was right. “Hi Kuroo, don’t mind us, we're leaving right now.” Tsukishima said, smirking , while getting in the car.

Bokuto Koutarou

You didn’t have anywhere to go, you couldn’t move from you and your boyfriend’s place, so you stayed in the guest room. You called Akaashi, your friend, to come and comfort you.

When he arrived, Bokuto saw him but didn’t greet him. Akaashi went straight to your room, and Bokuto was wondering why you would need him. He thought about everything, pure jealousy came from him, but he was never expecting this.

He went after some time by your door and heard loud whimpers and some wet sounds. ‘THAT’S IT, I'M GOING IN‘ he thought and just like that he opened the door just to see you like this. You were on Akaashi's lap, his legs were opening yours wider, his fingers were deep inside you, and your head was thrown back on his shoulder.

“Y/N WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! YOU ARE LITERALLY CHEATING ON ME!!”. You rose your head to see his furious state. You wanted to say something, but Akaashi quickly interrupted you “No,she’s not, you don’t “really” love her so she’s not going to be in a relationship with you.” You looked up at him, he loved you, not Bokuto.

Bokuto quickly stormed off, shutting the door with force. “See baby? It’s not that hard to be loved, now is it?" Akaashi said, quickening his pace.

Osamu Miya

How could you hate that kitchen so much but also love it at the same time? Well, I kinda understand why when Atsumu has you sitting on the counter, with his face between your legs. "Come on, gorgeous, let me take out that stress from you" he says before planting his face in there. Your sounds were echoing in the room.

Out of nowhere, Atsumu's phone started ringing-it was his brother. He pulled his face back and answered. "What's up?" Osamu sighs "It's y/n,she did me such a great surprise, she tried cooking for me and burned the whole thing. She almost burned the whole kitchen!"

You hear that, and your face quickly turns red and tears appear in your eyes. He stops, sits up, and cups your face and kisses your forehead. "It's ok." He whispers. "Really?" He says to his brother "She really did that?" he said in an ignorant tone.

"Yeah! I can't believe she could screw up such a simple food." Atsumu was so pissed by what his brother said. "Well, I know two things, Osamu. One: Y/n wanted to do something good for you,and that shows how good of a girlfriend she is." you smile.

He bends down again to the level of your thighs "And two: I'm eating something from y/n right now and you know what, this is the best meal I could ever have" Osamus eyebrows frown "What did she cook?"

Atsumu smirks "Oh I'm not talking about food". And just like that, he hangs up the phone and goes back to showing you how much he loves you.

Iwazumi

Oikawa has been your best friend for a long time, so of course he heard the news pretty quickly. He had a crush on you since forever, that's why he was happy when he heard you two broke up, but he was pretty upset because he hated seeing you like this.

You came by his house and settled in his arms while pouring out your heart to him. He listens to you, he actually does, because unlike others, he actually likes when you're talking about yourself and how you're feeling.

After he comforts you, you look at him with fresh, cried eyes, with mascara running on your cheeks, and a cute pout. "Thank you Oikawa, you've always been here for me, you've always helped me." you hugged him. "Of course, it's the least i can do"

He crashes his lips on yours. Your eyes widen,but you don't pull back.

He brings his hands down on your hips. You melt in his touch." 'Kawa,what are you doing?" He smirks. "This."

He pushes his fingers in, and like an instinct you quickly cover your mouth with your palm. "No, no, don't hide those pretty sounds of yours, I want to hear you, I love listening to you." You take off your hand,and let him hear how good he makes you feel. He pulls out his phone and starts recording. "Now, let's see if Iwachan likes to hear you, too!"

...

Hey guys! I'll do another part two, with comfort, so, stay tuned, I am listening to all of you and I will do everything (let's not cross the line tho) you ask me! Love you!! 💕 💕

#haikyuu angst #hq fluff #hq headcanons #haikyuu smut #hq boys #oikawa smut #iwazumi smut #bokuto smut #tsukishima smut #atsumu smut #osamu smut

[hotluncheddie]

Day 1: Accidental subspace

"Open Wide"

wc: 1.5k | rated: M | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, pre relationship, oblivious Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson, non-sexual subspace, aftercare

written for @subeddieweek <3

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷

‘So I guess I’ll say something like.. Hi! I’m Steve, I’m just assisting the dentist to check that you’re flossing correctly, nothing to worry about.’ Steve says from above Eddie, putting on a customer service smile. 

Steve’s facing down at him, floss in hand. ‘Totally routine procedure?’ He asks, pursing his lips. Then he looks directly at Eddie, face smoothing out into something fond. ‘But just relax for me okay?’ He says softly, moving some hair from Eddie’s cheek. 

‘Okay.’ Eddie rasps, clearing his throat. He's still not used to being this close to Steve, even after being roommates for months. Still not used to having Steve’s full attention on him, even after being proper friends for a whole year. 

And now Eddie’s here, and Steve has his gloved fingers in Eddie’s mouth. Eddie never realised how intimate the dentist could be. Not until he’s laying here on Steve’s bed, head on one of Steve’s pillows, bracketed by Steve’s thighs so he can lean over Eddie. Lean over and put his gloved fingers in Eddie’s mouth. 

(28 hours earlier.) 

‘Eddie please.’ Steve whines, sliding his torso across the table between them. Brandishing his clasped hands and burying his head in his elbows. 

It’s too early for this. Eddie hasn’t even gotten half way through his coffee and Steve is sitting here asking him things. 

Asking him things when it’s so early Steve hasn’t even changed out of his glasses yet. 

How is Eddie supposed to think in these conditions? 

‘Huh?’ Eddie asks, because, what? 

‘I have to practice and the only reason they agreed to interview me for this is job is because I have experience with kids. I’lI need to show them my bedside manner is good dude.’ Steve explains, rapid, like he’s said it before. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing, he.. huh? ‘What’s that got to do with me Stevie?’ He asks, still totally lost and he can see down the front of Steve’s old sleep shirt.The chest hair is not helping him process. 

Steve huffs, strands of hair on his forehead jumping. ‘I need to pretend you're a patent, floss your teeth and stuff. Just to get a feel for what they might get me to do when I go in.’ 

‘… Okay.’ Eddie says, still not fully sure what’s going on but, if it’ll help Steve, well, he honestly thinks he’d do pretty much anything. 

‘Thank you thank you thank you thank you!’ Steve cheers, clapping Eddie on both shoulders and squeezing. Still leaning across the table. Eddie can see the freckles on Steve’s nose. ‘I’m buying you dinner! First dental assistant check I get, I’m taking. You. Out. Munson!’ Steve says, smile sunny and blinding and Eddie has no idea what his face is doing right now. But, if Steve keeps looking at him like that Eddie thinks he could cry. It’s early, and Steve is too pretty for his fragile constitution. 

‘Good, that’s good. Now I’m going to get the teeth at the back okay?’ Steve asks, waiting for Eddie’s small nod. ‘Feel how I’m flossing both sides of the gum too? That’s how you need to do it at home, get rid of all the germs.’ And Eddie does, sort of, he feels something happening in the back of his mouth. Steve’s knuckle against his teeth, forcing them that little bit wider. Eddie’s not sure at what point his eyes slip closed but it’s not until Steve’s retracted his hand and is lightly dabbing Eddie’s chin with a tissue, that he opens them again.They feel so much heavier than before. 

‘Sleepy?’ Steve murmurs, smiling down at him. 

Eddie swallows and blinks slowly, brain not really processing what Steve just asked. He clears his throat. Is he tired? He slept pretty well last night so, not really. He does feel relaxed though. 

Eddie blinks again, looking up at Steve. His bed backs onto the rooms little window and Steve refuses to get proper curtains for them. Instead keeping the light white lacy ones that were left from the elderly couple who lived here before. They let so much light through it would send Eddie insane, but the soft sort of shimmer that glows across Steve’s cheek and shoulders now, it’s pretty. 

Steve really is so pretty. Eddie sighs, shifts deeper into the beds soft sheets. A really pretty guy, person. 

Eddie knows this already, obviously. But, it feels different. Eddie thinks he’d crawl on all fours for Steve right now without even batting an eye. 

Its kind of always been like that for him and pretty people though, ever willing to do anything for a bit of attention. But it’s never felt like this, never felt quite this intense. 

Steve ask Eddie to open wide again, getting the other side of his teeth with the floss. Then he gently probes at each tooth’s gum with his finger. Eddie watches the curve of Steve’s eyebrow as he focuses. Eyelids so slow to blink and brain a soupy sort of fog, no thoughts up there. Just the nice feeling of his mouth being played with, Steve doing as he pleases. 

The soupy floaty feeling travels down to his fingers a toes, stirs in his gut. Eddie feels like he’s getting his whole body massaged just through his teeth. Almost like he’s in a bath, or like there’s a mouth on his cock. 

He makes a noise in his throat, it could honestly be a moan, but Steve’s fingers are in the way. That makes Eddie squirm. Steve’s fingers are in his mouth. 

‘Almost done, you’re doing so well.’ Steve says gently. 

Eddie really likes being here with Steve, letting him touch. 

‘Close.’ Steve instructs finally, fingers pressed lightly into the hinge of Eddie’s jaw. ‘Good. You have nice teeth Ed.’ He murmurs. 

Eddie hums happily, a little giggle bubbling out of him. He grins, showing Steve his teeth again, watching his eyebrows lift slightly. But his fingertips keep tracing Eddies jaw, following the curve of it, making goosebumps appear on Eddie’s arms. 

‘M’gonna go get you some water okay? And a snack. You okay waiting here for me, for just a sec?’ Steve asks softly, now tracing the shape of Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie thinks it’s okay, Steve’s bed has always been the most comfortable. He has the nicest sheets. Eddie nods. 

Steve slides his legs out from under the pillow, padding out of the room, taking off his gloves and Eddie hears the fridge open. 

Its colder without Steve here. Weird. He misses Steve. Wants him to come back. Maybe Eddie does feel kinda of strange actually, he wants Steve back touching his jaw. He feels so cold, like his chest is caving in.

‘Steve?’ He calls trying to sit up but his body isn’t cooperating. His mind not able to think through the fuzz. His hands trembling a little. 

Steve comes back in, holding water and a granola bar. ‘Hey, hey Eddie I’m here. You’re okay.’ And sits down close, wrapping Eddie up in his arms. 

‘Feel weird.’ Eddie mumbles, gripped Steve’s shoulders tight and fisting his soft t-shirt. 

‘S’okay, let’s go sit on the couch yeah? Watch a movie.’ Steve says gently, rocking Eddie a little. He should maybe be embarrassed but it feels so much better to have Steve close that he doesn’t care. Doesn’t want Steve to go far again. 

Eddie nods and stands up, making sure to keep hold of Steve’s arm, hugging it close as he leads them into the living room and onto their worn sofa. 

Steve lays down first and pulls Eddie by their still linked fingers to settle between his thighs, Eddie’s face in Steve’s neck until he’s ready to come out. Making him take sips of water every few minutes, sharing bites of granola bar and stroking Eddie’s hair. 

Eddie drifts, almost to sleep, he’s so comfortable and calm, wrapped up in Steve. The sound of baseball coming softly from the tv. 

-

‘Hey! I’m home!’ Robin shouts from the front door, dropping her stuff and shuffling through. She stops dead once she sees them cuddles up on the couch. Eddie between Steve and the sofa, head now resting on his chest so he can see the tv too. Steve is channel hopping but stops to look at her. Eddie’s not really sure what to do, he definitely doesn’t want to move but, she’s looking at them really weird. 

But Robin is focused on Steve, eyebrows moving, not talking. Eddie edges around to see Steve doing the same thing. 

‘Happy for you.’ She finally huffs, stomping off to the kitchen. But Eddie hears her mumbling under her breath. 

‘Only Steve fucking Harrington could get a guy with a dentist shtick, Jesus christ.’ 

‘Huh?’ Eddie asks Steve, really not sure what’s going on. 

‘Nothin’ we’ll talk about it tomorrow, when you’re less foggy.’ Steve says softly, kissing Eddie on the forehead and pulling him back into his chest. 

Tomorrow. Yeah, that sounds good, Eddie really doesn’t want to move. 

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷

Tag List: @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor @marvel-ous-m

#they talk about it #and make out #:) #sub eddie week #steddie #steve x eddie #hotlunch #my fic #<3 #steddie fic #starting out M not E #gotta ease into it #sunday is for rest #SubEddieWeek

[claymorexpunisher]

Good Girl (18+ Fic)

Disclaimer: This is NSFW. If that's not your thing, keep scrolling. I tried to tag everyone I could, but I apologize if I forgot anyone... Anyways, thank you for the love as always. I tried my bestest lol and I hope you enjoy! As always, do please let me know if you wanna to continue on my taglist or if you want to be taken off.

Pairing(s): Roman Reigns x Fem. Reader

Summary: Reader gets dumped on Valentine’s Day and Roman’s in the right place at the right time.

Tag(s): 18+, casual hookup, dumped reader, Valentines Day, dirty talk, praise kink, light choking, dom/sub dynamic, seated reverse cowgirl, mirror sex.

Word Count: 2,621

I got dumped.

On Valentine’s Day no less.

My boyfriend of 5 years decided to take out on a date to a fancy restaurant for Valentine’s Day, just to tell me that he felt that we were going in different directions.

And to tell me that he’s been seeing one of his coworkers for over a year now.

So here I was, deciding to finish my dinner and dessert and drink.

And upon laying eyes on the most exquisite dessert in the entire restaurant- dark hair pulled away from his face and into a sleek bun, an expensive and meticulously tailored suit over an obviously ripped and tone body… a well-trimmed beard that framed his gorgeous features beautifully- maybe… maybe I did have a bit of revenge on my mind too.

The strange yet beautiful man wasn’t alone.

He seemed to be having some kind of business meeting, his demeanor was seriously concentrated in whatever they were talking about.

I could hear his smooth deep voice even from where I was sitting facing him and the sound seemed to send electric tingles all over my body, my ex long forgotten.

If he had the audacity to mess around on me, why would I sit here and mope?…

This man looked familiar but for the life of me, I couldn’t place a name to the gorgeous face.

I had no idea how I was going to pull this off.

But as soon as the beautiful stranger’s chestnut brown eyes met mine over the other man’s shoulder and his lips slowly quirked into an inviting smirk, I figured this wouldn’t be so difficult.

I coyly looked down, smiling and lightly playing with the necklace that hung around my neck, a dainty golden chain with an emerald cushion cut stone hanging off of it and a pair of earrings to match.

I felt my face warm underneath his attention.

When I looked up, the man was beginning to stand up, effectively dismissing the other man he was with a wave of his hand and a wad of cash being plopped onto the table and he was headed my way.

My heartbeat sped up, watching him come closer and closer.

But our smiles only became wider as he sat down in front of me.

“Hi,” the man said.

His smooth baritone voice coupled with his obvious cool confidence warmed me over even more and for a moment my brain stuttered before I managed to recover and respond.

“Hi,” I said, biting my bottom lip softly as we sat there staring at one another.

We introduced ourselves and he said his name was Joe.

But it was only when he revealed that he was a pro wrestler- Roman Reigns- that I realized where I’d seen him.

I sheepishly admitted that I had brothers who would occasionally put on some wrestling while we all hung out and that his face had definitely looked familiar.

Me recognizing him a bit didn’t seem to deter him, though.

We sat in the restaurant getting to know one another a bit, despite my intentions of just looking for a bit of fun.

But conversation with Joe felt easy. Light. As if we’d known each other for decades.

“I, uh… I kinda overheard you and your ex.” Joe admitted, his features melted into concern.

“Dude sounded like a complete asshole.” He said bluntly, to which I giggled.

“Ah, you’re not wrong. But,” I shrugged. “At least he helped me take out the trash… listen, do you… maybe wanna get out of here? I’m kinda over this place.” I replied just as bluntly and I chuckled softly, looking around the hustling and bustling restaurant filled with people dressed to the nines.

Couples in fancy attire mingled and laughed with one another as they ate and if you looked closely at some of them and at their coy expressions, there was no doubt as to what they would be engaging in once they left…

I was waiting for a pang of nostalgia for what I had just lost, but as soon as my eyes landed back onto Joe’s smiling face I felt nothing except a pang of smoldering attraction.

I squeezed my thighs in what I thought was a discreet manner, but I watched Joe’s eyes trail lower and lower over my satin gold dress that hugged my body perfectly before his eyes moved back onto my face.

His brown eyes lit up as if he just knew what my body was craving for.

And holy shit I’d hoped he’d give it to me…

I watched him take out another wad of cash and he tossed it onto the table before I could protest and take out my credit card from my gold clutch.

And as he nodded and stood, holding out his arm for me to hold onto, I felt my mouth go dry…

~~~

Joe was staying at The Marriot not to far from the restaurant, thankfully.

My heartbeat kicked up a notch and my hands shook the closer the car got to the hotel.

Joe had one arm over the seat of the car, not quite draped over my shoulders but the heat emanating from his body, coupled with the sweltering anticipation of what we were about to do once we reached his room, had my brain feeling a little foggy.

I had no idea why I was suddenly acting like a bumbling virgin but it was starting to get on my nerves.

My heartbeat and the tremors in my hands settled when Joe reached out the hand that was resting on his lap and he slipped it into mine and gave my hand a comforting squeeze.

“You okay?” He murmured, waiting for me to meet his eyes.

I nodded, sure of what I wanted despite feeling a bit out of my element.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m good. Just… it’s been a minute since I’ve done something like this. Something… casual.” I replied, finally meeting his warm eyes straight on.

Though I honestly didn’t know how casual this would end up being.

“Well, I want you to know that there’s no pressure. And I don’t bite… unless that your thing. I’d be happy to oblige.” Joe winked, bringing my hand up to his lips and kissing it before he playfully nipped at the soft skin there, only to the soothe the spot with another soft kiss.

I noticed that he had beautiful hands… hands that I wanted all over me.

He chuckled as I let out a surprised laugh, and I felt a waterfall of calm wash over me as the tension momentarily broke.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I replied just as playfully.

My eyes couldn’t help but flutter down to his luscious lips and I licked my lips as his tongue poked out to wet his own.

Without giving myself a chance to chicken out, I leaned into him and cupped the back of his neck to press my lips to his.

I moaned softly at the taste of his lips, tasting the smooth tartness of whatever drink he had been sipping on tonight.

Whiskey, maybe.

Joe let out a pleased moan of his own, the sound vibrating against my lips as our tongues snuck out to mingle.

As soon as our lips touched, we didn’t care where we were, or about his driver knowing what we were doing.

Our minds, lips, and hands were only focused on tasting and touching as much as we could of each other.

We pulled away for a moment to breathe only to sink back into each other for more.

I whimpered wantonly and angled my neck to give Joe more access as his lips wandered.

Gasping softly as his mouth moved up to my ear, I could swear I heard Joe whisper ‘god, you’re a fucking goddess, babygirl…’ but I wasn’t sure as his teeth playfully nipped at my earlobe before his tongue again worked on soothing any light pain his teeth would cause.

Before we could get into even more and possibly give the driver a show he’d surely never forget, Joe pulled away and I watched him open the car door as we came to a stop in front of The Marriot.

In my haze, I hadn’t even realized that we had pulled up to the hotel back entrance.

The elevator was empty as I pressed the button to call it a little harder and more impatient than I had intended.

Joe’s soft chuckle hit my ears, making me shiver as my back rested against his front and he dragged his beard along my skin, tickling my neck and the spot on back of my ear.

“We’re almost there, babygirl.” He purred and I nodded, sinking into him as arms snaked around my waist and his lips continued to kiss along my neck.

I tried to fly out of the elevator as soon as it opened on Joe’s floor and we walked hand-in-hand towards his room.

He slid the keycard through with a steady hand, but as soon as the hotel room door closed behind us, his lips attacked mine again.

As Joe bit, sucked, and licked at my tingling lips, I gave as good as he gave me.

I let myself be blindly guided towards the bed, and my dressed be slipped off my body before I helped him out of his own clothes.

God, he was as glorious as I thought he’d be…

“C’mere…” he said, beckoning me towards him as he sat towards the edge of the bed.

As he turned me around, my back facing him and he instructed me to straddle his lap on my knees on the bed into a sort of reverse cowgirl position, my brain short circuited again as I stared straight ahead and was met with our own reflections.

I somehow missed the giant mirror that was dead center in the room but as soon as I spotted it, my arousal dampened my inner thighs even more.

“Look at you… so fuckin’ beautiful, baby. That guy was so fuckin’ stupid to walk away from all this.” Joe whispered in my ear and I moaned and arched into his touch as I watched in the mirror as his hands moved ardently along my body.

I bit my lip as I watched Joe kneading my breasts and pinching my pebbled nipples, rolling them around in his fingers and making my hips swivel on his lap, chasing some form of relief.

“Keep doing that… fuck, Joe!” I moaned and he obliged, taking his time and paying attention to my breasts despite the hardness I could feel resting between my thighs.

“Yeah? This feel good, baby?” Joe murmured, his breath heavy against my ear and I let my eyes flutter shut before he pinched my nipples, making me release a strangled groan of pain mixed with pleasure.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He commanded and I listened, despite how hard it was with all the sensations coursing through me.

“Look at this fuckin’ body, oh my god…” Joe groaned through a clenched jaw, his eyes trailing over my body just as his hands did.

Our eyes met momentarily and he smirked cockily at how quickly I was falling apart for him.

“Grind that beautiful pussy against my dick, baby-“ Joe said, his words breaking off into a guttural groan as I once again complied, grinding my pussy against hard length.

The muscles in my stomach tightened and my nails dug into his arms that came to wrap around my torso as his cock grazed over my sensitive clit with every frontward grind of my hips.

I could feel his breath hitch every time my pussy reached the head of his cock and I felt his thighs shiver as he was no doubt restraining himself from just sliding into me.

But I was done waiting.

As if he read my thoughts, Joe lined himself up with my slick entrance.

Both of us released strangled groans of pleasure as soon as his cock entered me at first.

But he was pretty fuckin’ big and it took a bit of adjusting and relaxing on my part to accommodate him.

I let no more than half of his cock inside of me at first and then I slowly sunk down further, both sighing in almost relief as I my thighs were flush with his.

We looked at each other through the mirror, Joe staring straight through my soul over my shoulder.

My chest heaved with arousal as he only gave me one command.

“Keep grinding.” He said and as I did what I was told, my eyes almost rolled back into my head, feeling his cock hit my sweet spot almost immediately.

I watched him chuckle as I quickly reopened my eyes, remembering his command from earlier.

“Good girl… you’re such a good fuckin’ girl, huh?” Joe moaned, clearly pleased that I followed his every command to a T.

But I couldn’t help it.

Despite only meeting this man tonight, I was eager to please.

And so was he…

I groaned again as I felt his praise send a zing of pleasure over all of my erogenous zones and my made my hips move more.

“Slow down, sweetheart… I wanna savor this fuckin’ pussy.” He said, moving one of his hands down to my hip to call the shots and have me just the way he wanted.

Joe’s free came up back to one of my breasts and gave them some attention, our eyes never leaving our reflections.

My ex had never been this attentive… this thorough…

Watching Joe’s features contort in pleasure, watching the way our bodies were joined together sent a ripple of pleasure up and down my spine.

“God, Joe..! That feels so fucking good, holy shit!” I whimpered.

I was so eager to move fast but I couldn’t deny that this slow pace felt amazing.

I felt every single inch of him, hitting every sweet spot inside of me- even where I didn’t know they exist.

“That’s it. Good girl. Thats it, baby.” he praised, making me hiss a bit in pain and pleasure as his tongue momentarily sunk into my shoulder, watching my every move through the mirror.

Trails of sweat trickling down his neck and chest made my mouth water…

My brain stuttered as the hand that was playing with my breast slowly snaked upwards and came to rest on my throat, not squeezing but the sensation alone made my head swim and my pussy clench.

“Ah, shit… you squeeze me like that again imma cum right inside this pussy. That what you want, babygirl?” Joe said, now guiding my hips to roll a little faster.

I could do nothing but nod silently and squeeze the walls of my pussy again as my mouth opened in pleasure but no sound escaped it.

I could barely think anymore, but still my eyes stayed on him, intent on obeying.

“Cum first. You cum first, babygirl. You’re being such a good fuckin’ girl, you deserve it.” Joe rambled.

I could hear that he was close.

I could hear it in his voice, how his words almost seemed slurred and drunk with pleasure.

Wave after wave of pleasure washed over me as Joe snuck his free hand in between, rubbing my clit in tight circles until my body finally gave into the euphoria I had been craving.

My whole body shook with pleasure-filled tremors until I could only release weak little whines and Joe finally reached his own peak, feeling his cum fill me up and spill over onto the back of my thighs and the front of his where we were still joined until we caught our breaths…

@theworldofotps @alyyaanna @southerngirl41 @harmshake @mzv11 @letsgivethisonemoreshot @theundertakeriscoming @ladyshipwildrose @slutfortheeclaymore @auraravenora77 @babiidee28 @thesamoanqueen @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts @xndalynch @84reedsy @romanstheory @kianaleani @elefrog25-blog @motherknuckers @phantasmacabre @wandering-fox @lxndonorris @girlnred @yo-yo89 @smile1318 @theemorose @lanifisherpageofficial

#roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #wwe fic #wrestling fanfic #wrestling smut

[wheeboo]

spoiler: i kinda like u | hansol vernon chwe

SYNOPSIS. in which you share earphones with the boy on the train. PAIRING. hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, kinda strangers to lovers, implied college au WARNINGS. none WORD COUNT. 1.7k

requested by @enhazen

notes: this is a late birthday gift to you shay &lt;3

It's a recurring thing at this point: you board the train to and from university, sit at the very same spot each time, and then you wait for him. You know he goes to the same university as you because you recognise the school hoodie that he wears sometimes, and you both always get off at the same stop before going on your own ways.

And then he sits next to you. Yes, next to you. Why is that? Because the moment he takes his place next to you on the train, he offers an earphone towards you.

It had all started the moment he noticed you glancing down at his phone at a particular movie he was watching, seemingly interested despite not hearing a single thing and simply reading the captions. You didn't think he would notice, but he does, and a few minutes later you find an earphone being offered in your direction. At that point, you gave him the grand nickname of the cute boy on the train, because there wasn't any other way to describe him.

Then whenever the train reaches your shared stop, the two of you seemingly exchange a knowing glance with each other as if communicating Have a good day, which later became, Same time tomorrow? in the present day, with the addition of that small smile to his face that always makes your heart jump. You like to think that it grows wider a bit every day.

Conversations hardly stretched beyond sharing your thoughts of the movie, except for the one time you mustered the courage to finally ask for his name. His name is Vernon. The cute boy on the train now has a name.

When Vernon boards the train today, he already has his earphones in, head bopping to a song blasting in his ears. As he catches sight of you, you see the way his eyes widen ever so slightly when he notices you were both wearing the same school hoodie in different colours. Then he sits next to you, and you feel the warmth of his arm grazing against yours for a moment. Swiftly, he switches his screen from music to Netflix, scrolling to find the movie you were watching together yesterday, before offering an earphone to you like it was routine.

You take his earphone gratefully and plug it in your ear, scooting a bit closer to the point where the sleeves of your hoodies were barely touching.

“I… may have accidentally seen a spoiler earlier,” Vernon tells you guiltily, his voice low.

You scoff as if offended. “You promised you wouldn’t.”

His ears grow red. “Dude, it-it popped up on my for you page, and then I couldn’t scroll past it because of the WIFI𑁋”

You can't help but let out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head playfully. “It’s fine, I’ll let it slide. Just be more careful next time, and don't scroll through TikTok or reels or whatever."

Vernon elicits a sigh of relief, a sheepish grin to his face. “I’ll try my best.”

The movie begins, and you quickly find yourselves engrossed. The train sways gently as you both fade into the story playing on the screen, and you were leaning more towards him to get a better angle of the movie. The two of you attempt to keep in your giggles whenever the humourous scenes pop up, or whisper comments to each other during the intense moments that you can barely hear for the sake of not disturbing anyone around you. 

At times, you notice that Vernon occasionally steals glances in your direction to make sure you’re still paying attention, which you are. You pinpoint the way his lips curl into a small smile whenever your eyes meet, and it makes you shyly avert your gaze back down to the movie.

Sometimes he makes comments on particular scenes as if he was in his own little world, and you can't help but listen to every word. It's adorable, because you see the way his eyes light up whenever he speaks, and you wonder if he's some sort of secret movie critic.

In his own time, he probably is, to be honest.  

As the movie continues, you feel your head slowly succumbing to a certain heaviness, finding yourself gradually leaning more against Vernon's shoulder. It's not intentional, but Vernon doesn't seem to mind; in fact, he subtly adjusts to a more comfortable position. Today was oddly exhausting, and you were really trying hard not to let it show as the movie plays.

But when the first yawn escapes your lips, you knew your body was beginning to surrender to the tiredness.

When the movie reaches a calm scene, you feel your eyelids droop. You're still trying your best to stay awake to not miss anything, but the need to lay your head down on something and the swaying of the train fight back. Vernon mutters something about the scene on the screen, but you can barely hear it.

As you press more against his shoulder, Vernon's gaze flicker down at you, and when he catches sight of your fluttering eyes, he pauses the movie and tries to shift his shoulder, making sure your head doesn’t hang off. But the movement jerks your eyes open suddenly.

“Sorry, I-I was watching.” Then you blink a few times and end up yawning again, a heat of embarrassment sprouting in your face as Vernon softly chuckles.

He watches the way you rub tiredly at your eyes and straighten your posture, before clearing his throat a bit loudly.

“You can… lean on my shoulder if you’re tired. I don’t mind. We can watch next time."

You glance at his eyes and then to his shoulder, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you meet his gaze again. “Are you sure? I wouldn't... want to be all up in your personal space."

All he does is smile gently. “Yeah, it's fine. I’ve got you.”

You take a moment to encase his words in your heart, before shifting closer to him and letting your head find its rightful place on his shoulder. Closing your eyes, you take in the scent of his hoodie and the warmth radiating from his body. 

On the other hand, Vernon tenses for a split second when he feels you settle next to him, before quickly relaxing. Turning on his phone again, he lowers the volume and selects a calm and soft song, the sound flowing directly through the earphone in your ear, his fingers rhythmically tapping against his leg.

After some time, Vernon glances down at you curiously. Your mouth was slightly open, soft breaths floating in the air, appearing peaceful as ever. He just smiles to himself, finding a yawn of his own leaving his own lips, and his heartbeat quickens nervously to a sudden thought popping in his mind.

No, he can't do that, but the exhaustion felt contagious. Perhaps playing a calm song was a bad idea (for him, at least), his eyelids growing heavier as the song shifts to the relaxing sounds of a piano. He feels his body inch impossibly closer to you, then after a long moment of contemplation, he lets his head slowly tilt until it rests on top of yours.

Somehow, it's enough to ease the tiredness tugging at him. He's careful not to disturb you, but little did he know that the moment you felt a certain pressure land at the crown of your head, your drowsy awareness woke back up, and you notice the way his fingers slow its tapping on his leg, before finally halting.

You take in a long, deep shaky inhale, before closing your eyes again, your heart racing an marathon in your chest. His head against yours feels weirdly comfortable.

The two of you rest side by side on a train filled with people in their own quiet headspace. LIke a movie, the scenery changes outside, but this moment right now is frozen, and time seems to slow. Vernon manages to keep himself awake, knowing that one of you has to be aware of when your stop is. His gaze remains out the window, but his thoughts centre curiously around you.

And then, as all rides must, it nears its end. Vernon stirs beside you, his head lifting off yours as he takes a second to stretch out his legs, being cautious not to startle you.

Then as some other people gather their belongings, he taps a few times to the top of your head.

"Hey," he murmurs softly. "We're here."

He swears he feels his heart beating loudly in his chest as he watches you slowly rise. Your eyes flutter open, and you blink groggily at him, then glance around realising that the train was slowly coming to your familiar stop.

"Thanks," You mumble sleepily.

"You looked like you needed it," Vernon teases lightly as he grabs his backpack.

You rub at your eyes again, scratching at the back of your neck shyly. "Yeah, uh... Sorry about that. I really wanted to watch the movie but I guess I was just too tired. Long day, you know?"

He just gives you a warm smile. "Don't worry about it. We can watch another time."

As the train comes to a complete stop and the doors slide open, you both gather your belongings and step out onto the platform. The day had reached the beginning of the evening, and the sky was painted in an array of pink and orange. You both walk together, a comfortable silence between puncuated by the occasional sounds of the city and the shuffling of other people around you.

When you both fully exit out of the premises, you turn to look each other and exchange that same look.

"See you tomorrow?" You ask him with hopeful, apologetic eyes.

He gives a simple nod, offering you a faint smile. "Definitely."

Then the two of you trail in your usual opposite directions, and as you feel the cool air meet the skin of your hands, you stuff them inside the pockets of your hoodie.

But then you feel something brush against your fingers. Taking it out, you realise it's a folded up piece of paper.

And upon unfolding it, you read the words on the page:

get some good rest tn :) also shhhh i'm gonna tell you the spoiler....

i kinda like u :) XXX-XXX-XXXX

╱l (°ˎ。 7 |、 ~〵 じし ˍ ,)ノ - vern

It makes you freeze in your step, and when you spin around with a wide smile to hopefully catch sight of Vernon, you see that he wasn't anywhere to be found.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle

#kflixnet #k-labels #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #vernon imagines #vernon fluff #vernon x reader #hansol vernon chwe imagines #hansol vernon chwe fluff #hansol vernon chwe x reader #chwe hansol imagines #chwe hansol fluff #chwe hansol x reader #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines

[princessbrunette]

deer!reader wanting to learn how to please pope bc all of her friends are doing it. he’s teaching her how to give head & pope is just like the best hands on teacher everrrrrr

may i be ur 🍰 anon?

⊹ . ⁺ 🩰⋅˚₊𐙚

“i can take like, notes? if you want?” pope offers unsurely, staring down at you.

“no popey, s’gonna ruin the moment.” you push your lips into a pout, staring up from your knelt position on the floor between his legs — two hands wrapped around his leaking cock.

he’d noticed something was on your mind when you came back to his house in the evening after spending the day hanging with your girl friends. they’d gotten to the nitty gritty of discussing boyfriends and relationships — and you recall sitting up straighter in your seat, finally feeling like you were able to contribute something now that you were in a relationship with pope that was growing and transforming every day.

however, as the conversation progressed — you began to realise you still had lots to learn, listening to the girls discuss in detail the sexual acts they’d performed on their boyfriends, things you hadn’t got to do with pope yet. you wondered if he wasn’t satisfied with you, the insecure thought bouncing round your head and leaving you quiet for the rest of the day.

after communicating this to your boyfriend, he’d done his best to reassure you verbally that he was more than happy, and he was totally okay with moving at your pace. you did feel reassured, and you were glad the two of you were such open communicators — but he knew there was only one thing that was going to make you feel fully better, and that was to teach you.

which is how you ended up kneeling, staring up at him in the cream and white frilly bra, the one that reminds him of a baby deer. you’re a natural, twisting your hands as you slowly and unsurely jerk him off — pleased with yourself when he spreads his legs a little wider, adjusting his hips on the seat and wincing.

“god, okay— yeah, just like that.” he blinks rapidly, body heating up at the way you stare up at him so needily, desperately seeking praise.

“can— should i kiss it? my friends said they like to—”

“yes.” he blurts out, louder than his previous gentle tone making your eyes widen slightly. “sorry, yes, please.” he rephrases, thighs tensing as he watches you lower your face, pressing pouty kisses all on his tip and gingerly flicking your tongue through his precum. “oh my god.” he moans.

you keep doing what you’re doing, and he resists the urge to be a head-pusher, knowing that was a brutish act that only someone to the likes of his best friend jj would commit. he strokes your cheek instead, taking some deep breaths before further instructing you. “so…so if you want, you can take the tip in your mouth— jesus, good girl — and start to suck on it? you can move your… move your head back and fourth as you… wow, you’re really good at this.” he finds it hard to concentrate as you quickly and eagerly take his advice as he speaks, watching you through hooded eyes and a slack jaw. “fuck.”

he knows he shouldn’t but he discusses it with his friends the next day, foolishly thinking they’d have any words of wisdom to bestow upon him. instead, he got a clap on the back from john b and an excited laugh from jj.

“dude, this is great. she wants to learn, and you get so much out of it. think of it like — she’s the jedi, and you’re the master.”

“that would be a gross abuse of power, logistically.” pope retorts, shaking his head at the boyish response.

“dude, whatever. don’t be a dork. i’m saying you’re hella lucky.”

he smiles, because this was definitely true. with you, he always felt lucky.

⊹ . ⁺ 🩰⋅˚₊𐙚

#🍰 anon #pope heyward prompt

[shadowsandshapes]

[Spicy] Dude, This is a McDonald's | (afab!Reader/Dabi)

Summary: You're craving some McDonald's so you drag Dabi along with you to go get a burger and fries, but the man cannot keep it in his pants around you. Contains: Unprotected Naughties, Semi-Public Smut, Creampie, Swearing, McDonald's Bathroom (that's a warning on its own) wc: [2.4K]

Minors DNI 🔪

Taking Dabi with you to McDonald's was a mistake.

You were just trying to get a fucking burger, not get your back blown out in a public restroom. But alas, here you were, shoved up against the toilet paper dispenser with the man’s hands groping your ass, squeezing the flesh with his large palms as he backed you up into the stall. You pressed your hands against the powder blue toilet partition wall, stifling a laugh as you read one of the little messages scrawled on the bumpy surface.

‘The future is in your hands’ — and scribbled beneath it in different handwriting: ‘my dick is the future?’ How truly poetic. Ah, public bathroom stalls: the home of the funniest jokes and best life advice you’ll ever read. And, apparently, Dabi’s favorite place to fuck. To be fair, it didn’t really matter to the villain where he got his dick wet, as long as he could have you choking on it with that pretty tongue of yours dangling aimlessly against the underside. 

“Dabi–” you complained half-heartedly.

The only reply he graced you with was a breathless chuckle before cutting you off with a searing hot kiss. Of course. There was no arguing with the man once he’d made up his mind. He fumbled, shoving his fingers beyond the edge of your waistband, eager to get his hand cupping that precious cunt of yours. 

You just had to wiggle your ass at him on the way in, didn’t you?

It started with Dabi’s hand on your waist as you went over to the digital kiosks to place an order. Whenever the two of you went out, he made it a point to hold onto you in some way, shape or form. Your hand in his. A tight grip on your waist, or middle. Anything to keep you nice and close. By his side, where you belonged. You didn’t know why Dabi was so insistent on touching you in public — perhaps he simply wanted to be close to you, or maybe he liked to show off who his pretty girl was. Whatever Dabi’s reasons were, his fingers brushed against the hem of your clothes, playing with fabric as he wrapped his arms around you from behind.

“What do you want?” you asked, feeling the villain move to rest his head on your shoulder and peer at the screen. “I’m gonna just get a burger and fries.” 

“Milkshake.” Dabi’s voice was gruff as he grunted his response in your ear. Navigating the categories until he found what he was looking for, he pointed at the menu to show you what he was craving. “And a 10-piece of nuggets.”

Having you in his arms always had the unfortunate side-effect of eroding Dabi’s ability to restrain himself. You just looked so fucking perfect with his hands on your hips. With every passing second you spent choosing your meal, Dabi became more impatient with the situation. Not for the food no. You were wearing that good perfume again. The one that made his dick hard whenever he so much as caught a whiff of it. And now that the man had his hands on you, Dabi couldn’t help himself anymore. You were so damn delicious — he was practically salivating already. His cerulean eyes traced the curve of your exposed neck, drinking in every dip and curve of bare skin you had on display. It looked so soft, inviting — and far too pristine and flawless to his liking. Not nearly enough marks and hickeys to decorate your beautiful body. He should change that.

Bruised was a really nice color on you, after all.

You gasped feeling his lips on your neck – a rush of energy flooding your body. The shiver that ran down your spine made Dabi’s grin grow wider.

“Fuck — Dabi!” you scolded, feeling his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your exposed nape. The man was shameless as he sucked your skin between his teeth and bit down. There was no way he wasn’t leaving a hickey behind with how ferociously he was lapping at your body. Every little noise you made only riled Dabi up more – the sound of your voice, gasping and scandalized by his actions made his cock throb in anticipation.

“If you insist, baby…” he hissed out, dragging you away from the kiosk toward the bathroom. You stumbled over your own feet, trailing after Dabi as he made his way to the back of the McDonald’s dining area. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was on his mind right now and you knew for a fact that Dabi didn’t give a shit about having a quicky in public. He’d have you anytime, anywhere. As long as you were willing to spread those pretty fucking thighs for him, he was ready to stuff you full of cum without hesitation.

That’s how you ended up with one foot on the toilet seat and your hot-blooded boyfriend rutting his hard cock into your clothed pussy. Dabi’s fingers slipped into your underwear — a pleased, guttural groan rumbling in his chest as they brushed against your cunt, finding it already nice and wet for him.

“Shit, babe,” he cursed, pressing a couple of fingers into your aching heat. Just feeling your walls clench around these two digits drove him wild. His breath feels hot against your ear as he leaned in, resting his head against your shoulder while his fingers got to work prying you open to get you ready for his throbbing cock. “Here I thought I was bein’ the needy one but look at you. Guess you’re just as filthy as me, hm? That’s okay, it’s what I like about ya.”

“Dabi,” you whined desperately, back arching against the partition wall as he curled his nimble fingers inside of you. “Hurry the hell up, we’re gonna get caught —”

“We won’t be if you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, baby.” Dabi clamped his free hand firmly over your lips, muffling whatever retort you were about to spit back at him. It was probably some sarcastic bullshit comment anyway so he wasn’t sorry about shutting you up in the slightest. “Just keep that leg up on the seat and let me handle the rest, yeah?”

When you mumbled an affirmative series of noises against the palm of his hand, Dabi chuckled. Even when he tried to keep you quiet you just couldn’t resist trying to get the last word in. It was part of your charm and just made him want to fuck you so hard until that chatty attitude of yours shattered and all you could say was his name. You knew that too. It was a fun little game the both of you liked to play, especially in a public setting like this one.

Eventually, one of you would crack and Dabi would end up balls deep inside of you.

There was no time for romance right now. He fumbled with his belt, pulling his pants down just enough to free his cock. You could feel it pressing against your inner thigh, pre-cum smearing against the edge of your panties as he rutted against you in anticipation. The fabric stretched and tensed, cutting into your skin when Dabi yanked at them — your voice catching in your throat as he ripped your underwear clean off. A twinge of annoyance flashed in your mind — that was one of your favorite pairs. Your eyes followed the fabric scraps to the floor where they lay discarded against the greasy tiles of the McDonald’s bathroom, ruined and destroyed. You didn’t have time to mourn their loss: Dabi was done wasting any more precious seconds of not fucking you senseless. The man shoved his cock inside of your sweet, warm pussy — groaning with a desperation that set the hair in the back of your neck on end.

Your head lightly banged against the power blue partition wall and your foot nearly slipped off the toilet seat as Dabi began thrusting into you. The movements were shallow and sharp, grinding deliciously against that spongey spot inside of you that he loved to bully with his pierced cock. It’s like the guy knew exactly where to hit you to make you whimper and cry like a common whore. He could feel your hungry breaths catching against his palm — fingers clasping tightly over your lips to keep you from screaming.

“Keep it down, princess, this is a fucking family establishment,” Dabi taunted with a breathless whisper, never once slowing down his pace or pausing to let you catch a break. 

You could only mewl into his hand, struggling to keep your heavenly cries under control each time he slammed his hips into you. Dabi’s burning blue eyes are glued to yours as he roughly pistoned his cock as far as it would go into your precious pussy. You felt so fucking perfect — he couldn’t get enough of you. Hell, half the time you two ended up fucking in a bathroom it was because Dabi couldn’t keep his dick from twitching at the sight of you. Even now, when he had you clenching on his fat cock, he wanted more. Harder. Deeper. Faster. It would never be enough. The toilet stall walls groaned and creaked with each thrust, shaking as they threatened to shamble off the hinges the longer you two spent inside the cubicle.

You could feel his tip grinding up against your cervix as Dabi leaned his full weight into you.

For now, the bathrooms were deserted but it would be naive to think they would remain that way. It was both thrilling and terrifying to know that the threat of someone catching the two of you in the act was very real. It added an itching urgency to the way Dabi moved, goading him into finishing this little romp as quickly as possible. He was doing a bang-up job at that. Your legs trembled as he fucked himself into you, eagerly slamming you down on his cock.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh —” he cooed when you got too loud again, pressing his lips against your forehead for a quick kiss. If it were any other man, the gesture might have been soothing. But this was Dabi: you knew better. The man was taunting you, taking pleasure in the fact that his pretty girl couldn’t moan for him like she wanted to. “Shut the hell up, you’re gonna get us caught…”

The way your eyes fluttered each time Dabi shoved his cock into your sweet cunt, your breath fanning against the palm of his hand — there was just something so fucking hot about your flushed face leaning back against the toilet stall like that. You looked completely helpless and desperate, just the way Dabi liked to have you. Grinding on his cock like you had something to prove, gasping and whining into the palm of his hand. You sounded almost like you were choking. He was utterly obsessed with that blissfully fucked-out look in your eyes. The sight alone was enough to make him wanna fill that pretty pussy of yours with his spunk. His fingers tightened their grip as he picked up the pace, digging into the soft flesh of your cheeks and admiring the way your face puffed up in his grip.

“You look so fucking good like this,” Dabi panted into your ear. His cock twitched in anticipation of what was to come. The man was so ready to fill you up with his thick, velvety cum. Every muffled moan you let out pushed him closer to the edge, urging him to cum in that heavenly cunt of yours. But there was one more thing he needed before he could finally give in to that desire. “I need you to cum on this dick, baby. C’mon, do it for me. I need to feel that pussy gushing on my cock, give it to me…” Dabi’s free hand grabbed your thigh and pressed it against the stall, spreading you open even more so he could shove himself even deeper and harder into you. You cried out, squirming at the feeling of his flushed tip plunging into your quivering pussy.

There was no holding back anymore. You couldn’t if you tried. Not with the man’s cock practically spearing you into oblivion.

Dabi felt your sweet cunt clenching, walls fluttering furiously and tightly around his hard cock as your orgasm crashed over you. He fucked you through each wave, shoving your body against the partition wall as it buckled and shook under the pressure. Feeling you clenching on his dick was all Dabi needed to drop his load inside of you as well. His teeth sank into your neck in an attempt to muffle his groans as he spilled his cum into you, cock pulsing with each ripple of pleasure that coursed through him. You felt your legs trembling, struggling to stay upright in the cramped toilet stall as he pumped you full. Thank fuck for Dabi holding you up or you would have sank through your knees ages ago. Every sweet, hot ounce of his cum poured into you, dribbling down and gathering at the base of his cock as he churned your insides until he was completely, utterly satisfied.

Once Dabi was completely spent, he pulled out and released your breathless mouth from his grasp. Quickly shoving his cock back into his pants and buckling up, the man cast a glance through the cracks of the toilet stall to see if anyone had walked in. The room was deserted. You were in the clear — having gotten away with a quick fuck in a McDonald’s bathroom. It was quite thrilling but also deeply embarrassing. Not exactly the type of passionate encounter you’d brag about to your friends.

You were perfectly happy to never tell a damn soul what had happened here today.

“Looks like it’s our lucky day,” Dabi chuckled out, grinning from ear to ear as he basked in the thrill of your public little tryst. Ripping a piece of toilet paper from the holder, he dabbed you clean and wiped away his spunk before chucking it in the bowl, flushing. It was a nice gesture, really, since you didn’t have a pair of panties to cover yourself with anymore.

As you both made your way out of the bathroom, you smoothed out the creases in your clothes, trying to act normal. Luckily for you, no one seemed to be paying any mind to the two of you stumbling back into the restaurant, looking like you just ran a marathon. 

“Y’know, babe —” Dabi said, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you in close. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke, whispering into your ear like he was telling you a secret. “I McLoved that.”

“You’re the fucking worst.”

#touya todoroki smut #dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya x y/n #touya x reader #dabi #touya todoroki

[bel1ewrites]

Light Weight (Samantha Carpenter x Reader)

a/n: giggling

Description: Sam seems to have formed a bad habit.

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: drugs, consumption of drugs, high sex, top!Sam, bottom!reader, Tara can never catch a damn break

IT'S not like Sam had meant to make it a habit. In fact, she'd attempted the opposite, trying her very best to keep it to a minimum. A once in a blue moon type of thing. A rare, yet not unwelcome occasion. Something to look forward to after a stressful day of trying to appear put together. 

She hadn't expected those stressful days to be a common occurrence. 

"Sam," Tara calls from outside the bedroom door, voice laced with annoyance, "it fucking reeks and I have a guest over! Do that shit outside."

The clock in the corner ticks quietly, the bed creaks beneath Sam as she shifts, blunt held carefully in her fingers. She lays on her back, limbs sprawled and loose, smoke slowly escaping her lungs. 

"Fuck off Tara," She shoots back lazily, bringing the object of her relaxed state back up to her mouth. Each inhale makes her feel lighter, a little less coherent and a little less... herself.

"Dude, I'm sick of-"

"Just leave it alone, Tara," a different voice interjects, one that's very familiar and makes Sam smile around the blunt. It's muffled by the shut door. She moves to stand up, the fabric of her tank top crinkling a little, loose plaid boxers falling comfortably to her mid-thigh. 

It takes her a second to walk to the door, opening it to find Tara turning to leave, spotting you in the living room with your arms crossed over your chest and clad in a sweatshirt that seemed to be a number of sizes too big on you.

Her lips turn downward as she thinks about the possibility of you wearing someone else's clothes. She doesn't like that at all.

"Just go back in your room Sam," Tara sighs, grabbing her coat from the back of the couch, "we're gonna head out."

Her eyes still haven't left you, drooping lids lowering as her stare drops to your bare legs. 

"You leaving too?" She asks, head tilted and eyes still glued to your skin. She thinks she sees you shiver a little. Her fingers grip the blunt a little tighter.

"Not sure I wanna stay," you shrug, catching her gaze. 

A low laugh filters through her throat, "Why?" She lilts, "Mad I'm not sharing?"

Tara can't help but roll her eyes, watching as Sam stalks forward slowly, like she's trying not to scare you off.

She's aware that there's not much left in the tightly wrapped bundle, maybe enough for one or two more hits, but she's feeling generous when she stops about a foot away from you.

She smiles wider when your eyebrow quirks up in defiance, looking down at you and watching the light flush that falls over your face. Your eyes track the movement of her arm as she moves to hold it out to you, caught on the shift of her muscles.

She doesn't really think you'll take it. It's fun, messing with you, making you blush and squirm. 

Unexpectedly, you grab it, bringing it up and placing it between your lips where Sam's eyes linger, seemingly fascinated by the way they wrap around it. Your cheeks hollow a little when you inhale, and she has to suck in a deep breath when your eyes meet hers from under your lashes. She hums.

"Oh for fucks sake," Tara groans, breaking Sam's attention. "I'm leaving. You two have fun." 

You're too focused on the burn in your lungs to register the door opening and closing, but Sam is all too aware of the lack of company.

When you exhale, you can't stop the coughing that follows. It's a little amusing to Sam who simply steps closer to you and rubs slow circles on your back.

"Poor baby," She pouts, pulling the blunt from your hand and taking the last drag before walking to toss it in the sink.

You're still struggling a little when she gets back, face screwed up in disgust. 

"That was awful," you complain with a groan. 

Sam just rolls her eyes, wrapping her arms around your neck limply and scanning your face. "Was that your first time?"

The room is quiet, save for the sounds that filter in from the city outside. You nod, then blink a few times. The hit you took was big, and you'd even held it in your lungs for a few seconds.

She watches your pretty eyes grow heavy, lids falling half mass and straining to look up at her. 

Light weight.

She giggles a little at the thought. Then you giggle because she's giggling and everything's funny at the moment, but then she looks at your mouth and stops giggling, so you look at hers and do the same because her lips are so pretty and her solid body is suddenly really close, but not close enough at the same time and there's a clock ticking somewhere.  

"Whose hoodie is this?" Sam asks, tone low and husky. She's pressed against you, her arms around your neck and her eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips to your neck that's tilted to look up at her.

"Mmm..." you think, heavy arms wrapping around her waist like they belong there. "Chad gave it to me. I was cold."

Sam sighs. 

"I don't like it," She admits. Tugs at the hood.

"Okay." 

"Yeah."

"Yeah, okay."

"Mhm."

"Take it off then." 

"Yea- wait what?" 

Your focus is drifting, eyes skating around her face, her neck, her shoulders that tense. All she can do is try not to lose her mind. 

"Take it off," you smile dopily. Fingers moving over the fabric of her tank top, over her shoulders and settling on the warm skin of her triceps before dropping to your sides. 

She moves slowly, like the air is holding her down and it takes all of her effort to remove herself from you and grip the hem of the hoodie. 

The gray fabric bunches as she pulls it up one slow centimeter at a time, revealing the hem of your shorts, then the waistband. The skin right above it. The skin right above that. Your tensed stomach and more smooth skin and more skin and ribs and lace and Sam's heart should probably slow down. 

She watches your chest rise and fall, pushing against the fabric of your bra when she gets past it. "Lift your arms," she trembles, and you do it before the words even leave her mouth. It's agonizingly slow, but inexplicably fast. 

When it's finally, finally off, she drops it to the floor like it's a dirty rag, grabs you by the waist, and kisses you so hard you see stars.

It's hot and needy, the way your lips move over hers. She nips and tugs, squeezes the skin of your hips and pulls you closer. Every sound you make washes over her like cold rain and clogs up her mind until all she can think about is you. 

You pull back, light headed and desperate for air, and Sam seems to take that as an invitation to shift her attention to your neck. 

"Shit," you pant, "Sam-" She hums, teeth scraping your jugular. "What... jesus- what about Tara?"

"Shh."

Images of you flushed and lying beneath her flash behind her eyes. You're so pretty. You're so fucking pretty. You're still half clothed -which is more clothed than Sam would like- and the idea of you in a bra and too short shorts is even better in real life than in her fantasies. Lace and bare skin and messy hair and-

"Do you want this?" She asks desperately, forehead buried in the crook of your neck. "Because I really want this."

You don't answer. Well, not verbally. Instead, you reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and to the floor.

Sam forgets to breathe.

Then she spurs into action, backing the both of you up until the back of your legs hit the arm of the couch. She pushes you back onto it, smirking at the shocked little squeal that you let out before you catch yourself and lean back on your elbows.

Sam attempts to speak, but nothing comes out so she just gives up and trails her eyes down your body, pausing at your bare chest.

She's still barely breathing, mind fuzzy as she tracks your hands that move down your body, hooking on the fabric of your shorts. Then she's moving again, climbing on top of you and shifting you up the couch. Her red eyes find yours, looking for any trace of doubt. When she finds none she practically tears off the rest of your clothes, settling between your legs.

"I've thought about this before," She admits, folding her arms over your pelvis and resting her chin on top of them.

"Thought about what?" Your hands tangle in her hair. 

She shrugs. "Fucking you."

She feels your hips twitch up from beneath her, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

"Yeah?" You shiver.

"Every time I see you." She moves her hands up your waist, runs her thumbs over your nipples. You're trembling a little. "I've thought about how you'd feel," you gasp when she squeezes your breasts in the palms of her hands, "what sounds you'd make, how good you would be for me."

Her mouth hovers right above where you need her the most, heavy breaths hitting you and shocking your system. 

“Ask me for it,” she orders, voice low and gravelly. 

The room is buzzing, it’s alive and full of need. Every sound is tuned out by your own mind running wild, filling with static as she tells you to beg her. You’ve only ever heard her say things like this in your mind, late at night with your hand between your legs and a pillow trapping your sounds. 

“Please,” you mumble, throat dry and voice crackly. You know what she’ll say next.

“Please what?” This time, when she speaks, her lower lip brushes against the top of your cunt.

You have to bite your lip for a second, refocus on the task at hand. “Please make me feel good,” you finally push out, words shy and unsure.

It happens in slow motion. The way she finally gives you what you want, mouth immediately pressing against you like she needs you more than oxygen. You struggle to process that, holy shit, Samantha Carpenter is actually totally fucking you right now. Her tongue is pressing just above your entrance, flat and strong and sure and Samantha Carpenter is fucking you like she’s imagined it before. 

You reach down with shaking hands, tangling your fingers in the roots of her dark hair and anchoring yourself to her. There’s no use in trying to stop the needy little moans and gasps that have her grasping at your thighs and humming into you. 

When she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks, running her tongue underneath it, you arch into her and make a noise you never knew you could make. “Just like that,” you pant out in between curses and moans. “So good.”

She takes your encouragement and doubles her efforts, shifting around while remaining attached to her new favorite spot. Suddenly, you feel her mouth leave you, and when you look down to see what’s wrong she shoves two steady fingers inside of you.

Your head falls back against the couch, neck straining and mouth open with your brows pinched together. Everything is heightened with the weed coursing through your system, your senses are blending together and blurring and muting and you're not sure what to call what you’re feeling but you hope it never stops. 

She fucks you slow for a few minutes, soaking in the light of you. When she can't be patient anymore she gives up.

Sam watches you with hungry eyes. Her bicep flexes with each movement of her arm, her fingers hooking up and pressing to find the perfect spot. She never could’ve imagined this; the real thing. 

“You’re so pretty, baby,” she mutters, eyes soaking in the sight of you like it's the last time she’ll ever see it.

The praise only makes you hotter. It makes your muscles tense and your lower stomach fills with heat as she moves inside of you. It’s never felt like this before. It’s all consuming. 

You can’t tell where you end and she begins when she moves her free hand to rub tight circles on your clit. You feel as though you’re transcending, but your body is anchored by her touch. 

“Fuck,” you whine out. 

She hums in response. “So good for me.”

Pressure builds within you, a forest fire spreading throughout your entire being. At some point your lips form the word please and you begin chanting it like it’s the only thing you know. 

Please, please, please, please Sam, please, pl-

She pushes down on your clit and pulls up roughly inside of you, whispers a sweet, “Come on, let me see you,” and suddenly you’re thrown off of the edge. 

It’s a violent pleasure. The kind where you forget who you are momentarily, and all you know is that you feel good. The kind that is over too soon, no matter how long it lasts. The kind that has waves that push you, and pull you, and push, and pull, and stop. 

When you come down, your mind is still a little fuzzy. It feels like you’re imagining everything that just happened, but you’re not and Sam is right there and she’s somehow gotten the both of you into a position where you have your head in her lap and her fingers thread through your hair. 

You stay like that for a while. Neither of you talk, she just looks at you while you look at her. 

Then the door opens.

#samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream #screamxi #wlw #lesbian #melissa barrera #scream vi #samantha carpenter #tara carpenter #melissa barrera x reader

[yourfuckingmomdotcom]

Yandere Butler x Autistic Reader

The autistic girlies, guys, or otherwise deserve yandere content tailored to ourselves, and I’m sick of pretending otherwise /hj.

The general idea is that this takes place in a time before an autism diagnosis even existed, like the Victorian Era, but arguably the DSM III added autism in 1980, so you could be in any of those times and still technically be timewise correct. But also you can just imagine him as a modern dude who doesn’t get what’s up.

Oh also, this is inspired a lot by @kiame-sama​ ​. Do I know what a Chrollo is? Nope. Did I love the fic she made? Fuck yea. (Accidentally tagged someone else at first, sorry you didn’t see this!) CW: Non-consentual cuddling, mild drugging, yandere, autistic reader, sensory overload mentions, general violence and murder stuff

🂡 Yandere Butler was brought on by your uncle after your parents unfortunate passing. You had been passed the helm of owning their small but thriving gunsmith operations, as well as the family house and assets. Being unwed and rather young, the butler was sent to manage the things that seriously stressed you out. He, as well as your other associates, assume you are just someone of a delicate constitution, and therefore he’s always fretting over you. Initially he didn’t get it, he did his very emotionally separated duties, but he noticed how much you struggled with specific things, and how you absolutely lit up at the things you love. He found it charming and enthralling, and he could no longer separate his duties and himself. 🂡 Yandere Butler will listen to you ramble for hours over your special interest. Now, how much he understands depends entirely on the content, but he will sit there regardless. As you excitedly go over every detail as best as you can trying to get him to understand what makes you so enthusiastic, he’ll ask leading questions and generally try and find ways to engage deeper in the things you enjoy. It’s the least he could do, since it seems to make you so happy.

🂡 Yandere Butler will overstep professional boundaries as long as you’re unaware of them. He appreciates what he sees as feign innocence and gullibleness that allows him to do things that wouldn’t be possible otherwise. With the low oversight of his position in the house, as well as the authority he holds, he uses this to sneak touches under the guise of fixing something with your garments or your posture. He’ll take what feels like decades to get you dresses in the morning as he slowly glides stockings or woolen socks over your legs, placing the garter so gently atop your thigh. The small ways you allow him to touch you are to him the highlight of his day, especially if you’re really touch adverse.

🂡 Though, Yandere Butler, does understand that your comfort comes first. He finds it somewhat enjoyable to find a middle ground between sensory-safe clothing, as well as clothes deemed acceptable by wider society. He makes sure that your tailor uses the specific fiber and weave to make sure you have an exceptionally predictable texture to fall back on with any garment. He also will find ways to get you the right silhouette while avoiding a lot of structure if that bothers you. If all else fails, he might resort to more homey garments.

🂡 Yandere Butler pays close attention to your nutrition as well, always making sure to get sensory safe foods as well as some you’ve never tried before to widen your horizons just a bit. If the maids and chefs cook something wrong, or in a way you find unpalatable, there will absolutely be hell to pay. Well, moreso just a very loud scolding after you’ve retired to bed for the night, but it still hurts their feelings... He keeps his more unpleasant reprimands for when you’ve fallen asleep because he understands that you feel bad for the workers in your home when he gets like this, so he just does it out of sight. If ever invited to a required formal event, god forbid, he’ll always bring a snack and a handkerchief in case you really didn’t like what was available.

🂡 Yandere Butler also manages your medications, vitamins, and any other substances you take throughout the day. Don’t even consider doing something elicit or uncouth such as smoking or drinking more than a flute of champagne, and if you do something more elicit you’ll probably give him a heart attack. But this unadulterated access to these things lets him do things that are very ungenteel. He requires you take a sleep aid, practically knocks you out, and he takes this time to cuddle you while in your sleep. He knows you’re usually not one for unprompted blunt  affection, so he only does so when you’re sleeping. He finds your resting face adorable, and he prefers to hold you in the honeymoon hug position.

🂡 Yandere Butler, who due to your “delicate constitution” is usually helping you through sensory overloads. If you would grant him the honor, he’ll hold you tenderly in his arms as you ease back into comfort, slowly rocking both of you back and forth. Or, if you’re not ok with touching, he’ll prepare your chambers with dim lights, comforting sounds, and your bed all made and smelling of fragrances you find soothing. Despite not knowing the actual root of this behavior, he’s surprisingly accommodating and has gotten your sensory needs down to a science… which is sort of the problem.

🂡 The Yandere Butler figured out that going outside into town caused you mild to a great distress. So he made your life more simple, no more going out frivolously!... You were confused, and when you asked for more information he basically put a ban on any outside activity that wasn’t business or a disaster within the house. You got really sad about that, as you needed to go out and get things frequently for your hobbies. He ignored your short pleas to go out, initially only responding with something along the lines of, “Then go out to the gardens.”, but he knew he couldn’t keep you inside forever.

🂡 So, Yandere Butler scheduled every “unnecessary” outdoor event to be a sensory nightmare. He hates to see you so distressed, but it’s the only way you’ll learn apparently. This is only made worse by the fact he’s essentially made a sensory heaven inside of your manor, so when you go out it’s a lot worse since you’re so used to being catered to that the sensory discomfort becomes full of sensory pain. And you and him both know you can’t make a scene, lest you be ousted from high society and made a mockery of, so you’re hastily rushed back home to be coddled by him once again. It’s a very negative cycle you’ve got yourself caught up in, and it’s extremely difficult to get out of that cycle. Eventually, he hopes you’ll send a maid out to collect whatever you need instead of trying to leave him again, but until that time comes he’ll do this as much as you need until you get the memo.

🂡 Yandere Butler also manages many of your social and business connections. He’ll whisper in your ear how to deal with boring things like business decisions, stocks, and all the choices he doesn’t want you fretting about. But, he also will make sure to restrict any suitors or and non-business social events. He’ll throw out letters for frivolous parties, as he doesn’t want you tainted by others. He also will throw out suitor letters, which can make some interactions at formal business dinners a bit awkward for you when many suitors come up to you to ask about if anything got through, but the butler will whisk you away and explain that the mail must just be slow. 🂡 But one day, while a maid was cleaning the butler's room in the servants quarters, a maid finds the letters thrown out in his personal rubbish bin. She reads through them all rather confused, wondering why these wouldn’t be given directly to the master of the house. She wasn’t one to interfere with others' business, but something ticked her off. But as she’s about to walk off with an engagement letter, the butler walks in with 3 more in hand. There was a panic and a struggle from both of them, as the butler made sure she’d never be able to tell her tale.

🂡 That night, the Yandere Butler burnt the butchered maid, as well as all of the letters he’d previously thrown out to ash in the manors incinerator. He’d make sure not to make such a mistake again…

🂡 The next day, Yandere Butler makes you a special breakfast and brings it to your room. He coos, explaining that a particular maid stole from the wine cellar, and as she dropped and cracked the bottle, the red wine spilt across the floor. After that he let her go from her position, and he needed time to clean the mess himself, apologizing that your schedule was messed with and that you’re confined to the room for the day to protect your garments. Everytime you walk past the servant quarters door, you see a small red stain and remember the taste of red wine.

#tw autistic reader #x autistic reader #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere butler #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #x gn reader #x reader #yandere drabble #yandere imagines

[fox-bee926]

My Tailor

Harvey Specter x fem!reader

Masterlist A/N: holy shit dudes I finally did it. It was hard and full of procrastination. But I did it. I might make another one. I might not. At this point consistency is a figment of my imagination. (not really edited don't come for me) Anyway! Enjoy! TW: suggestive talking, but only a bit of a joke. Nothing really scandalous or anything of the sort; Harvey being jealous Word Count: ~997 (nothing real crazy dw)

(Third POV)

Mike walks up to the door of Ms. Tailor’s Thread and Needle, business card in hand. The sign says closed, and the shop seems dark, but there is obvious movement. He is just about to knock on the door when it swings open. The woman seems very surprised when he stumbles back, rubbing his hands on his pants.

“Hello... Do you work here?”

“No, I sneak in just to eat my lunch.” 

Mike looks panicked for a moment, then composes himself. “By the sarcasm, I assume you do. I was sent by Harvey Specter. He has made his opinion on my suits very clear.”

“Of course he did, they’re terrible," Mike looks down, confused, thinking they were top of the line. "I’m Ms. Taylor, come on in.” Ms. Taylor opens the door wider, but keeps the sign flipped to closed. She smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress pants. “The other girls went out for lunch but Jessie told me I had a priority one booking. I’m going to assume that’s you.”

Mike walks into the shop and looks around. He stops in his tracks with a deer in headlights look. “Wait a minute, Harvey told me not to talk to you.”

“Did he now? Oh, don’t worry about him, honey. I promise he won’t mind.” The door shuts closed and Ms. Taylor turns the rest of the floor lights on as she grabs a small box of tools.

Mike goes to stand on the raised platform encircled by lights. “Are you sure? He seemed pretty... clear. Just as clear as his hating of my suits.”

“Positive, Mike. Now, let’s see what we’re working with. Oh, and please, call me Y/N.”

___

(Second POV)

You unlock the door to your shared apartment with Harvey. Mike had talked to you quite a bit about his time at Pearson Hardman. Especially how much of an ass Harvey had been to him. You had thought about talking Harvey into easing up on him, but in the end you decided against it. Harvey was bound to be upset hearing you two even talked at all. 

“He just said not to talk to you. No explanation or anything. I was worried that you had torn his suit or something.”

“I tore the buttons off one time, but that was completely non-work related. I’ll talk to him when I get home. For now, just say Jessie tailored you. Have a good day, hun, and good luck.”

You couldn’t lie, you were a bit upset that Harvey told his own associate not to let you tailor him. You had tailored every person even remotely close to Harvey, even Louis. However, Harvey’s jealousy was understandable. After Louis had not so subtly flirted with you, and not so subtly got his pockets’ seams ripped, Harvey was weary of sending his male coworkers to you for a suit.

The sound of the front door closing and your bag hitting the floor caught the attention of said Harvey Specter from the kitchen. As soon as your eyes met, he knew he was in trouble. Harvey waited patiently, wine glass in hand, in silence as you took your coat and heels off. Finally, you spoke.

“You told your own associate not to be tailored by me?”

“That little snitch. I knew something was up when he said Jessie had tailored him. You would never send Jessie to tailor a priority one.”

“That’s right. I would never send Jessie to tailor a priority one. I would never send anyone but myself to tailor a priority one, and you knew that. Yet, you were going to have Mike get a below-standard tailor job because you couldn’t handle your girlfriend hemming the pants of your coworker.” The more you talked, the more you realized just how angry you were. 

You and Harvey had had this conversation several times. You always said how you could handle yourself when male clients tried getting frisky (they always tried,) and Harvey said that he hates you getting so close to his male coworkers.

“This is- This is ridiculous! I shouldn’t have to ask you not to tailor my coworkers! I don’t like your hands being so close to their... inseam.” He made a confused face for a moment before going back to his rant. “How should I feel knowing that every man you tailor in New York feels your hands on him? How should that make me feel other than angry and very, very shitty?” His hands gripped the counter in frustration, and you copied the motion.

“You should feel angry. But you should also trust that the only thing I’m doing is poking a needle very close to their ‘inseam,’ as you put. I promise you, I can handle myself.” You reached across the counter and wrapped your hand around his.

Harvey hung his head, knowing he wouldn’t be getting anywhere. Also knowing, deep down, that he was overreacting a bit. “Fine. I’m sorry. But I’m still not going to recommend anyone unless absolutely necessary.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You walked around to his side of the counter and wrapped your arms around him, leaning your head against his back. He smelled of ballpoint pen and whatever cologne he decided to wear that day. You could never tell them apart, but you’d never tell him that.

After a minute or two he turned around in your arms and gently placed his hands on your face. 

“What would I do without you?”

“Not have the best tailored suits in New York City, at the very least.” You both chuckled and he placed a small kiss on your lips. “To be fair, I wouldn’t have the first clue how I would survive without you.”

“Well, for one you wouldn’t have the best kisser in New York City.” You let out a loud giggle and a few murmurs “oh really?” as he attacked your face with kisses of various weight. Finally, he left a passionate kiss on your lips, right where he started. He brushed a lock of hair out from in front of your face.

“What is a man without his best suit, anyways?”

#fics by foxbee #bonus in the tags #fanficiton #harvey specter #suits #harvey specter x reader #xreader #fem!reader #fics