#i’ve just been thinkin about her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonewreath · 4 months

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𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 | 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

description: you’ve been getting closer to ellie lately and, unbeknownst to you, your blossoming crush is entirely reciprocated. cue your first smoke sesh together… and a little something more, too. [modern au, ellie and reader are both over 18]

warnings: weed use, oral sex, fingering. this fic is 18+, minors do not interact.

author’s note: my first ellie fic and my first fic on this blog! pls be nice :) let me know what you think <3

The first few times you hung out with Ellie, she’d offered you a joint. It’s no secret that Ellie’s the town’s top dealer, a welcome sight at rowdy house parties, her backpack stuffed with ziplock bags of the best bud around. You’d tried weed before, had taken a puff or two from poorly-rolled blunts here and there, but you’d never particularly enjoyed it. Mostly, you’d just coughed up a lung and felt nothing but a vague lightheadedness. So when Ellie rolled up a joint the first time you’d come over to her place, offering you a drag after she’d sparked up, you’d politely declined.

Ellie had arched a brow. “You mind if I smoke? Shit - I can put it out.”

Before you’d had the chance to respond, she was already reaching for the ashtray on her nightstand, ceramic and painted to resemble an eight-ball.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you interjected, reaching out and touching her wrist almost involuntarily. You pushed down the flurry of butterflies that erupted in your stomach at the contact. God, you had to be touch-starved or something. Since when did touching someone’s arm make your heart skip a beat?

Ellie looked at you with a guarded kind of suspicion, like she didn’t believe that you were fine with her smoking. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, lips curling into an encouraging smile. “I don’t mind weed, it just doesn’t do anything for me.”

“Huh.” Ellie nodded. She lifted the joint to her lips again and you glanced away, chest tightening from the sight of her lips pursing.

“If you ever wanna try again,” she paused to exhale a plume of smoke, intentionally avoiding your direction, “let me know. Not to, like, toot my own horn or anything, but I’ve never had someone try my weed and not like it.”

You let out an easy laugh. “Okay, we’ll have to see about that.”

Ellie was smiling at you, those green eyes twinkling like so many stars. “No pressure.”

That was months ago, when the summer heat still blazed from sunrise to sunset. It’s mid-winter now, the chill nipping at your cheeks and the end of your nose. To your agony, it hasn’t gotten any easier to breathe when you touch Ellie - when she greets you with a hug and a smile at her front door, you feel like you’re paralyzed with want. And Ellie’s probably none the wiser, of course. You wonder if she’s ever noticed the way your breath hitches when she stretches out on the couch beside you, leaning her head on your shoulder while some tacky eighties film lights up the television screen. You figure she’s oblivious - she’s just being friendly. She probably doesn’t even know you like girls, anyway. Plus, she doesn’t shy away from talking about the girls she’s been with before. You’ve spent more than a few nights seething with jealousy as she recounted her latest hookup, schooling your expression into one of disinterest or even mild enthusiasm.

It’s been a while since she’s talked like that, luckily. You’re grateful you don’t have to feign excitement about Ellie’s latest conquests anymore.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Ellie interrupts your internal monologue, hands still working at the joint in her lap. She’s got a pile of ground-up weed on a rolling tray, sprinkling it into the perfectly-rolled cone like it’s muscle memory. It probably is.

“Nothing,” you blurt, cheeks warming. “Sorry, just zoned out for a second.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Ellie quips, rolling her eyes despite the smile playing at her lips. “What, you can’t tell me? I thought we were friends, cherry.”

You flush anew at the nickname. She’d picked it out for you after you’d scarfed down an entire jar of maraschino cherries one night, after Ellie had bought them for ice cream sundaes. You’d never live that down… But you’re not sure you want to, because every time the nickname leaves Ellie’s lips, you feel like you’re glowing bright red with admiration.

“We are friends!” You nudge Ellie’s shoulder with yours, rolling your eyes with that same playfulness she’d expressed. “Sorry, it’s just - it’s embarrassing.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. It’s like you can see the cogs turning in her head. “Embarrassing? What, you got a crush on some guy or something?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, she’s prattling on again. “Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gay doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me about your crushes. Swear I won’t be weird about it.”

Oh god.

“It’s not - I’m not…” You sigh, gaze lowering to your lap, where you’re fiddling with your hands. Should you tell her? You should probably tell her.

“I like girls, you know.”

It’s quiet for so long that you need to look up at Ellie to make sure she’s still there, still listening. And she is; her eyes are glued to you, wide in disbelief.

“What?” You feel like a bug under a microscope with her looking at you like that. “Is it that hard to believe?”

Ellie shakes her head emphatically. “No, no - it’s not. I just didn’t expect that.”

She turns away to finish rolling the joint, twisting the very end of the paper until it forms a little point. “Guess you’re just full of surprises, huh, cherry?”

You bite your lip to stifle a smile, but Ellie sees it anyway.

“So who’s the lucky girl?” She asks, rummaging through her pocket until she finds her lighter. You watch Ellie spark the joint, the twisted end catching fire until the cherry starts to glow. Ellie takes a few puffs and the scent of smoke tickles your nose.

“I’d prefer not to say,” you tell her, chewing on the inside of your lip. Your nerves are off the wall; you’re so anxious that the joint in Ellie’s slender fingers is suddenly tempting.

Ellie scoffs. “Boring.”

She looks up at you as she flicks ash off the end of the joint, and when she notices you eyeing it, her brows lift.

“Want some? Will that make you spill?”

You huff a nervous laugh, toying with the ends of your hair. “No… I don’t know. Maybe?”

Ellie whoops, her free hand curling into a fist of victory. “Fuck yeah. Here, take it.”

She offers you the joint and you take it, but not without a moment or two of hesitation. You will the anxiety away with the thought that you probably won’t feel anything. Ellie watches as you bring the joint to your lips and inhale, praying you won’t cough and make a fool of yourself. Especially not with Ellie watching so intently.

By the grace of some kind of divine being, you don’t cough. Your throat tickles, and you feel emboldened to take one more hit, letting the smoke fill your lungs. You imagine your body relaxing, the knot in your stomach unwinding. You hand the joint back to Ellie and she takes a puff of her own, her lips curled into the faintest little smirk.

“So…” Ellie trails off expectantly.

“God, you’re persistent,” you groan. She just peers at you knowingly from behind a veil of smoke.

“There’s not much to tell,” you say. “I’ve had a crush on this girl for a while now, but I don’t think she feels the same.”

“Have you asked her?” Ellie prompts, flicking ash off the joint.

You shake your head. “No way.”

“Then,” Ellie pauses to take another hit, “how do you know she doesn’t feel the same?”

You should be feeling anxious with her drilling you like this - you know you should. Usually, you’d be retreating into yourself with every prodding question Ellie asks. But all you feel now is yearning; there’s an ache in your chest that only she can remedy. And, clearly, Ellie’s clueless about it.

You don’t want her to be clueless, you realize.

The words leave your lips before you can think better of them. “Do you, Ellie?”

Her brows knit together, forming a crease that you’ve memorized by now - like every other freckle and wrinkle on her face. “Huh? Do I what?”

You reach for the joint and she yields it without question.

“Do you feel the same about me?”

The weed has certainly helped with your nerves, you think, watching Ellie’s expression shift from confusion to realization. Her plush lips part, but all that comes out is a series of stammers and false sentence starts: “I—you—what?”

Fuck it, you think. You stretch out to reach the nightstand beside Ellie’s bed, leaving the joint in one of the ashtray’s notches. A steady stream of smoke ribbons upward from the fading cherry.

“Ellie,” you start, settling back into your place on the rug. You look at her to find her already staring at you, blinking. “It’s you. I have a crush on you. It’s been—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ellie interjects, voice softer than you’d expected.

You blink. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, I guess. And you always talked about other girls, so I thought you just… Weren’t interested.”

“Cherry.” Ellie sits up on her knees so she can get closer to you, the sleeves of her oversized flannel slipping down to her forearms as she reaches out and grabs your face. Her touch is gentle but firm, insistent. You can feel the callouses on her fingers against your skin, her thumbs brushing up against your cheekbones, and the air is suddenly so thin you can hardly inhale.

“I have… I’ve had feelings for you for so long. So fucking long, cherry.” Ellie’s gaze is intense, eyes boring into you. You feel exposed, raw, alive with something electric.

You stare right back at her, frozen in her grasp.

“But you were always talking about other girls,” you say. Doubt lingers in the back of your head; this is too good to be true. Right?

“I know, fuck, I’m sorry,” Ellie sighs. “I thought you weren’t interested in me. Thought it was hopeless, y’know? My perfect best friend having feelings for me? Unreal.”

One of Ellie’s hands smooths over your hair; it’s something she’s done plenty of times before, but it feels different now. More intimate, with your shared confessions between you.

“Wanna know something?” Ellie asks then plows on, not really waiting for an answer, “I stopped hooking up with other girls a while ago. I just… Couldn’t.”

You nod in understanding. Your eyelids feel heavy all of the sudden, each blink heavier than the last.

“They weren’t you,” Ellie adds.

They weren’t you, her words echo in your mind.

“Ellie,” you breathe. Her face is impossibly close; you can pick out every detail of her face. Each pore, each freckle, each fleck of brown in her green eyes. You can smell the weed smoke on her breath.

“Cherry,” she responds, voice hushed just as low as yours. “Cherry. Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes,” you practically whine.

When Ellie kisses you for the first time, she tastes like relief.

Her lips are soft and insistent against yours, the pad of her thumb warm against your cheek as you lean in closer to kiss her back. It’s like time has gone still; the hum of the speaker on Ellie’s dresser fades away, as does the sound of the winter winds hissing and whooshing against the window. All you know is Ellie: her hand slipping down the length of your back to grab your hip, her mouth hot and needy against yours. It’s a desperate sort of kiss, one that you’d both been yearning for, and months of pining drain from your mouth to hers, then back again.

You’re not sure if you’d been kissing for seconds or hours when Ellie finally breaks away, gasping.

“Fuck,” she whispers. The tip of her nose brushes against your cheek, then your nose. “We should stop, before I…”

She trails off but you know exactly what she’d left unsaid. And your stomach flips in response; the mere thought of what else Ellie might do with her mouth has your cunt throbbing.

Ellie’s hand leaves your hip and it’s like she’s left a burn there - one shaped like her touch, a scathing outline on your skin.

“I don’t want to stop,” you find the courage to admit.

You’re not sure who makes the first move this time - only that you’re kissing again, swallowing Ellie’s pleased moans as your tongue prods between her lips. You gasp and pant into each other’s mouths, hands roaming on newly discovered skin; Ellie’s hands slip beneath your tee, her palms hot against your abdomen, your hips, your lower back. When her fingers find the clasp of your bra and unfasten it, you practically shiver with anticipation, back arching into her touch.

“Whoa there,” Ellie laughs, nudging her nose against yours. You go in for another kiss, annoyed that she’d stopped, but she pulls back. “You’re sure you want this, cherry?”

“Please,” you say, taking advantage of the moment to pull your shirt over your head and set it aside. You toss your bra into the growing pile, turning back to Ellie to find her gaping at you.

“Christ,” she says, licking her lips, “you’re fucking perfect.”

She gives you one last heated kiss before her mouth moves to your jawline, then the column of your neck, where she leaves a trail of wet kisses. She sucks on a spot right on the crook of your neck, just shy of leaving a hickey, and your toes fucking curl.

Ellie only gives a low hum of approval at your reaction before she’s moving lower, lower. Her kisses cover your breasts, every inch of skin worshipped by her lips until she finally takes a peaked nipple into her mouth. You feel her tongue swirl against the sensitive bud and you nearly cry from the pleasure, one hand flying up to knot into her hair and tug.

Her gaze moves up to meet yours, and your cunt tightens again at the look of unbridled desire in her eyes - her lids are heavy, too, but you can’t tell if it’s from the weed or sheer lust. Maybe both, you’re not sure, but you don’t have much time to consider it before Ellie’s moving to your other nipple, tongue laving against the taut flesh before she closes her mouth around it and sucks. A ragged moan tears from your throat and you tense, tugging again at the locks of Ellie’s hair in your fist.

She leaves your nipples flushed and sensitive, shining with saliva, and you’re suddenly very aware of the layers of clothes separating you from her. Separating the wetness of your cunt from hers, the bony curve of her hips from your needy mouth. You need those layers gone.

“Ellie,” you whine, pulling at the collar of her flannel.

“Shh, I know,” she coos, voice dripping with syrupy sweet lust. “Why don’t you get on the bed for me, hm?”

You nod and oblige, but not without stopping to slip out of your jeans. You leave your panties on because, well, they’re cute. A white lace thong with a tiny, silky pink bow just below your navel - Ellie’s eyes linger there as she stands at the edge of the bed, unbuckling her belt and stepping out of her cargos. You can feel the wet patch on your panties as you press your thighs together and watch her undress. She’s always been on the thinner side, but as she slides off her flannel and pulls her sports bra over her head, you realize that she’s much more toned than you’d imagined. Her arms flex with each movement and her abdomen is clearly taut with muscle; every inch of new skin she reveals only adds to the agonizing desire churning in your stomach.

Luckily, she seems just as eager as you are. She’s still in a pair of oversized plaid boxers when she grabs hold of your hips and yanks you toward the edge of the bed, pulling your knees apart so she can see what’s between them.

“Look at you,” she says, eyes wide at the sight of your soaked panties. “I didn’t realize you were so needy, cherry. Should’ve let me take care of you sooner.”

Her words send another gush of arousal flooding from your cunt, your stomach twisting. “‘M sorry, Ellie.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says, lowering herself onto her knees before you. Her fingers hook beneath the lace of your panties to pull them down, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the rug.

Her face sinks between your legs, and the first stroke of her tongue against your folds makes you shiver with relief.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Ellie moans against your pussy, tongue splitting through your folds, spreading your wetness with every swipe and lick. Your back arches involuntarily, your toes curling in sheer pleasure.

She laps at your cunt like a woman starving, hot tongue drawing circles around your puffy clit. It’s maddening, the way she knows exactly what you need, speeding up and slowing down in accordance with your moans and sighs and whimpers. You’ve never felt so close so quickly, but you don’t want it to stop - her mouth is magic between your legs, and as you hurtle towards your orgasm, she slips a finger into your clenching hole. You nearly scream.

“Ellie,” you moan shakily, your thighs tightening on both sides of her head. “Ellie, I’m gonna…”

She just moans again, mouth working at your clit while her finger sinks in and out of your cunt. She adds another not long after and it’s hardly a stretch with how wet you are. You’re trembling with every stroke of her tongue against your clit, and soon enough, you feel yourself slipping off the edge into oblivion. Your orgasm tears through you like never before, hot and electric, every muscle tensing as Ellie finger-fucks you through every wave of pleasure. Eventually, you push the heel of your hand against her forehead, too overstimulated for her to keep sucking at your too-sensitive clit. She pulls back and sits on her heels, fingers leaving the tight grip of your cunt as she wipes her mouth with her other hand. Your slick covers her from the nose down, the shining evidence of how good she’d made you feel.

“So fucking pretty when you come,” Ellie tells you, standing up and lifting a knee onto the bed beside you. Her hair is a mess, you’d made sure of it, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Think you’ve got a few more for me?” She smiles at you, wolfish and wicked, and her hand moves to grope at one of your tits.

“Mm,” you hum, reaching out for her. “Only if you have a few for me.”

When she’s close enough, you slip your hand between Ellie’s legs, your fingers brushing through sparse curls to find the heat of her folds. She’s soaked, you realize with self-satisfaction, your tongue swiping over your lower lip.

This will be fun.

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irb-pascalito-99 · 1 month

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Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

#pedro pascal #smut #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller smut #a03 fanfic #a03 writer #joel smut #tlou hbo #joel tlou #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller x reader #wip #pedrostories #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction

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angelbarelywrites · 1 month

Text

♡ slashers scenarios | y’all accidentally adopt a kid

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; parenthood (?), mentions of violence

♡notes; i work with toddlers all day yet still somehow get baby fever- so here’s this i guess lol.

i can’t see Brahms as a dad so skipped out on him this time, Vincent is iffy too but we might come back to him

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> micheal never wanted to be a father before he met you

> he knows for a fact he has something terribly wrong with him

> and while it never bothered him…it was far too dangerous to pass on

> but the way you light up when little kids on the street wave to you

> how you talked about building a family when you got drunk and sappy

> and how soft and gentle you were holding your friend’s baby…

> he knew you’d be the perfect parent, good enough to balance any bullshit he was bring to the table

> so it’s maybe not a complete accident when he stalks into the house with a banged up stroller out front

> the baby is crying, his parents passed out from some shit they snorted in the living room

> it makes his job easier when he slits their throats, and he’s sure as hell not sympathetic

> not that he ever is

> he follows the cries upstairs- a tiny little boy is wailing in his crib

> but he stops and stares at Micheal, blue eyes wide as he looms in the door

> at first Micheal thinks the racket it going to start again and braces for the scream

> but the boy reaches for him eagerly instead, making grabby hands and squealing

> it takes a bit of snooping but Micheal finds some paperwork after he’s secured the child in a carrier

> Miles. The boy’s name is Miles, and he’s ten months old- just tiny for his age

> you think he’s fucking with you when he sets a baby carrier on your table that night

> “…that’s Miles.” He mutters and walks away

> you’re pissed but you can’t say you have anything but an urge to protect this tiny boy

> he has red hair, and light freckles and the sweetest disposition

> he’s perfect, surely Micheal wouldn’t just steal a child…not without good reason

> and you notice Micheal still lingering, watching you both

> you try not to smile

> “…well. Gonna help me find somewhere he can sleep or not?”

Thomas Hewitt

> when Charlie brings in the little girl, Luda Mae is beyond excited

> she had no idea the couple she’d sent down their road had a baby

> her dark curls and chubby legs and ruddy pink cheeks remind her so much of Thomas at that age too

> not too far off from one if she’s got it right

> she’s thinking selfishly, she’s always wanted a daughter

> but Thomas’ eyes go so wide when you both walk in

> he’s in awe of the tiny lil thing sleeping against his mama’s shoulder

> he won’t hold her, terrified of hurting her

> but you’re eager to take her for a bit and he gets real close, chin hooked on your shoulder so he can inspect her closely

> she’s all giggles as she touches his mask

> and you’re nearly in tears when she snuggles up against you

> “…yknow…i’ve been thinkin. i’m much closer to grandmama age than mama age now”

> you say yes before Luda can finish her ask - there was nothing you wanted more than a child with Thomas

> he’s hesitant, but he already adores her

> you have no way of knowing her name, so what you should call her is a bit of a hot topic for a few days

> Charlie wants to name her Charlotte because he’s a self centered bastard , and Luda Mae has about a thousand suggestions that come from baby books decades older than you

> but you let Thomas decide

> Audrey Mae Hewitt is what he chooses

> Audrey from a book he read

> Mae from his mama

> and it suits her perfectly

Bubba Sawyer

> “hey cook! look what i got!”

> Drayton about beats Choptop in the plate when he sees him carrying a toddler under his arm like a log

> but he’s kind of impressed such a scrawny dirtbag can carry a chunky kid like that

> the little boy is a healthy weight for two or so, with lil chipmunk cheeks that dimple when he grins

> and the cutest damn mullet you’ll ever see

> Drayton is getting too damn old for this, and there’s only one person he trusts even a minuscule amount in the house

> so he just. hands him to you when you walk into the front room

> “congratulations, it’s a boy”

> you’re confused but excited

> and a bit concerned with how he and Bubba will feel once the man gets home

> a kid is a big commitment- and a man that wears people’s faces can be scary

> but Bubba immediately squeals and beelines for the little one when he staggers in

> they both tilt their heads curiously before the boy tries to climb up his leg

> when he picks him up, the boy gives a huge belly laugh, kicking his legs

> you choose his name- politely declining your boyfriend’s brothers’ insistence on Lil Choppy or Drayton II

> Jedediah Junior sounds perfect to you - little JJ

#slashers #micheal myers #thomas hewitt #micheal myers x reader #slashers x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #bubba sawyer #halloween #slashers x you #tcm #slashers x y/n #slashers headcanons #tcm 2006 #tcm 2 #bubba sawyer x reader

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rosewaterandivy · 7 months

Text

girl crush

Summary: there’s more than two beds, but of course you sleep in his.

W.C.: 2.5k

Warnings: y’all know me - it’ll be the usual! Smut, idolatry, devotion, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), pussy drunk Steve— I don’t make the rules 😤‼️

a/n: aka your first time with Steve, who may or may not be your boyfriend?

🎶 I’ve got a girl crush, I don’t get no sleep, I don’t get no peace, thinkin’ bout her 🎶

“Wish I could babe,” his voice sounds distant over the phone, wind whipping every other word through the mic, “But we just started production out here, we won’t wrap for a while yet.” You’d caught him during a break in filming, miraculously.

Several dates in LA after an introduction from Eddie, and here you are trying (and failing) to plan another. He’s back in California after a press tour and you were fresh off of recording your latest album.

“Well,” you drawl out, “I could come to you?” The question is rushed, breathless, you screw your eyes close in fear of fucking it all up.

A pause.

“You sure?”

“S’easier than dealing with your schedule, Harrington,” you say lightly, “Palm Springs is doable enough.”

He’s working on some indie picture out in the desert, you were murky on the details. You hear shuffling from his end and ‘psst’s trying to get someone’s attention.

“Rob… Rob! Can you– yeah, the address?”

A moment later your phone dings with a notification.

“So,” you say, throwing clothes haphazardly into a bag, “What’ve you got planned for us?”

Three or so hours later finds you in the desert and absolutely ecstatic about it. Dressed down in cut-offs and an old merch tank–or, as dressed down as you could get–you breathe in deep, thankful to be out of LA. Little to no paps and tabloids to be worried about–or worse, Deuxmoi acolytes–so you could finally relax.

Steve met you out front with the fattest joint you’d seen in years, he nearly dropped it when you all but tackled him to the ground. You were so happy to be with him again.

“Little soon to be proposing, no?”

“Think I’d do better than some hydro from Arglye,” he grouses, but you take it from him anyway with a deep inhale, “Says ‘hi’ by the way.”

“Tell him I accept and we’re registered at Tiffany’s,” you say finally, exhaling slowly.

He rolls his eyes, “Okay, Material Girl,” he helps to hoist you back up, “Tour time.”

After the grand tour, which was impressive–“Holy shit, do you have Robin on retainer? ‘Cause if not...”--Steve entertained you in the kitchen, making what he called the ‘secret sauce.’

“Oh, that?” you scoff, pouring some wine, “Had that on date number two, if you’ll recall.” You take a sip and continue with a waggle of your brows, “My compliments to the chef, as ever.”

Steve blushes at that, recalling how pretty you had looked with your glossed lips around his cock, all warm and soft under the dim light from the setting sun. A groan rumbles from his chest as he braces himself against the countertop, knuckles turning white.

“You’re a menace,” he said, voice low and gravelly, before he turned his attention back to the pots and pans on the stove.

You shrug and drink some wine, savoring the crisp tart taste against your tongue. Steve flits from one spot to the next while he cooks, stirring the sauce one moment and blanching veggies the next; all the while, remaining loose enough to pour a second glass of wine for you and another for himself.

Infuriatingly attractive that.

The sun had gone down in the desert while Steve finished with the pasta. You’d assigned yourself the task of setting the table and doing the dishes after dinner. Plates and cutlery arranged, you helped yourself to some salad while Steve served the pasta.

You mouth had already been watering at the mere scent of whatever was bubbling away on the stove, and all it took was one bite to have you audibly moaning at the dinner table. His eyes met yours, mischievous and curious, as he sipped his wine.

“Fuck me, that’s good,” you say with closed eyes, savoring the taste.

Steve laughs quietly across the table.

Dinner goes on, you try to reign in your vocal appreciation of the meal. He fills you in on some details of the shoot, set gossip, and the like. You offer up the scant information you have about the upcoming tour and album release. Clearing the table is easy enough between the two of you, knocking hips every so often as you washed and he dried the dishes.

You ended up in his bedroom, collecting the duffle you’d packed from the guest room down the hall. It was a kind thought, that you would opt for a separate room and your own space; he was hesitant like that, never wanting to assume.

Electing to change in the ensuite bathroom, you step out of the denim cutoffs and fold them neatly on the counter. Shoes had been kicked off at the front door earlier in the evening, leaving you now in an ancient Corroded Coffin shirt that had seen better days. He’s sat on the bed, looking all soft and sweet–tousled hair and wire rimmed glasses framing his face nicely, skin flushed from the wine.

He bit his lip when he saw you come out, hair a mess and legs, legs, legs, but a vision nevertheless. He can’t help himself as you step between his splayed knees at the edge of the bed, his hands coming to rest against he curve of your hips.

“Hey honey,” he murmurs as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Hey Steve,” you greet in return, lips pulled tight in an embarrassed smile.

Gently, he tugs you closer to him, the fabric of the shirt rucking up against your skin. His finger skirts against the back of your thigh, the skin shivering involuntarily. “Missed you,” he says, voice raspy and low.

His soft gaze lingers on you, warm hazel eyes looking up through long lashes. “Missed you too,” you say quietly.

“Yeah?” he asks, fingers grasping at the flare of your hips before he leans back on the bed, “C’mere then.”

As you clamber onto the bed, he lays back against the cool cotton of the duvet pulling you down with him. Substantively seated in his lap, you rest your head against his chest and let out a sigh.

“Comfy?” he says, a hand trailing lazily up and down your back. You nod, fingering the fabric of the shirt between your fingers. Softened by time and wear, paint and lettering disintegrating each time you wore it. It smells comforting like you–cardamom and sandalwood with a hint of something boozy–smells like home.

“I’ll keep you close then.”

His other arms falls against your hips while he continues to trace shapes against your back. You feel his lips leave at the crown of your head before his head falls back against the mattress. It’s quiet and he can tell from the rhythm of your breathing that you’re a few minutes from falling asleep.

The nation’s favorite spitfire in his bed, face nuzzled into his chest, bit by bit chiseling your way into his heart.

Steve lets his teeth worry his bottom lip, willing his nerves not to get the best of him. “Y’know, I really like you.”

“Mmm,” your drowsy moan comforting, the lazy smile tugging at your lips setting off the butterflies in his stomach. “I really like you too.”

Fuck, he hadn’t been this nervous in a while. And yeah, you’d been seeing each other for a minute but not long enough to have the ‘what are we’ conversation.

His hand tangles in your hair, loose and windswept from the drive, fingers scratching lightly at your scalp. A muffled moan pours from your lips and vibrates his chest.

“Sorry, sorry” you slur sleepily, “M’not normally such a lightweight.”

Steve, for his part, doesn’t think anything of it. You’d had, what, one glass of wine at dinner— maybe two? But you could be tired from the drive.

Maybe he’s misreading this thing entirely. A brief flicker of panic licks up his spine; maybe it’s too soon, maybe you just want to sleep—

“Can hear you thinkin’ up there,” you mumble and pull him from his downward spiral. A brief movement as you settle your chin to his chest and glance up. Your eyes are half-lidded and sultry, lips pulled in an enticing fashion.

He grunts when you shift your weight until you’re practically sitting on his chest to keep him breathless. He’s smiling up toward the ceiling, one side of his lips curled upward, jaw slack, easy and yielding because Steve offers himself to everything like this: headfirst and wide-open.

It’s be infuriating if he wasn’t crashing headlong toward you. It’d be irritating if he wasn’t so damn earnest about it.

After a while of feeling out each other's atmosphere, eyes catching every so often before flitting away to focus on something else, Steve arches up to request a kiss, all warmth and need.

You lean down to touch your lips to his gently, brushing your nose with his along the way— a wholly delicate gesture he never would’ve expected from you, but has grown to adore.

“We can go slow,” you breathe against his lips. “Don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Steve’s stomach swoops. He reaches up to cradle the back of your neck, drawing your forehead to his. “That so?”

You're smiling— so big and beautiful it hurts. And his heart is so loud he thinks you must hear it.

The kiss was clumsy, you chalked it up to too much drink, but the touch of your lips to his burned down his throat, like whiskey and joy— warm and smooth and cataclysmic as his hand cupped your face. You kiss him and Steve hears himself sighing into your mouth. His cheeks flush in excitement because you’re not letting go, so he presses his lips to yours a little slower, a little firmer, learning all the ways you like to feel him there.

“Steve,” you breathe, and it lights him up. “Steve,” you say again, and his eyes slip shut. Even now, he’s crushed with longing.

You press the heat of your core into his groin, grinding your hips into his.

When your tongue touches him again, he thinks he might go blind. His eyes flutter open as much as they can, to savor the moment of your face so close to his. Your eyes, shut. Your skin, flushed. Your hair, a silky, folded curtain against his chest.

You are straddling Steve’s thigh now, sitting on your knees and moving against his thick limb in slow orbits. The underwear sitting against your hips is still there but does nothing to keep the slickness between your legs at bay. His thigh is moist from it, and it catches a shine in the fading light.

“Need you, baby,” you plead. “Any way you want.”

You glow like a full moon in the night, divining his animal desires with phosphorescent eyes.

Too eager now with permission. Too eager now with the fiercest kind of lust—of love—he lets it go. All for you, and you all for him. He nips at your collar, drowning deeper and deeper. Fingers meandering to hook into the gauzy and damp fabric hiding you from him and pulls. Wants you bare and shuddering beneath him. Hip bones against hip bones, the noises you make—ragged and hoarse—sending tremors down his back.

Steve grips your waist and moves you from his leg. A whimper escapes before it turns into a gasp as he turns you around, back meeting the cool of the sheets. “You call it, sweetheart.” Comes his husky voice in your ear. You know he means it completely.

A moan slips forth when he dives into the back of your shirt and tears it off, does the same with his. He wants to hear that noise again. The two of you are entwined like real lovers, pulling apart only to breathe and whisper to each other.

He falls onto his forearms, touching foreheads together, noses together, lips hovering until you meet him in a sloppy half-kiss, tongue slipping over his, spit and sweat shimmering across your mouth.

Steve doesn’t bother taking his boxer-briefs off completely, crumpling them down just below his cock is enough for him to slide in like he was created for you. He tells you as much, as you whimper and cry out beneath him.

“Look at me,” He prompts, tilting your face so you see where he’s connected to you. He’s searing hot as he thrusts upwards. “You were made for this.” He’s delirious with it, the heavy thrum that flows through the union of your bodies, “You were made for me.”

Like a prayer, he repeats your name.

Inside of that deafening miasma, Steve is still awake and a part of him knows that this is what he’d been longing for. His cock is throbbing inside of you and every time he pulls out and thrusts back in, your cunt wipes any shred of doubt from his mind.

Your head tips backwards and he catches the base of your skull in one giant hand. “So good,” you praise, “You’re so good, Steve.”

God, he’s so hard. Cramming himself inside your body, torso to torso, as close as he can get because he needs it—he needs it so bad.

He’s blind with it, drunk off it, beginning to rut like he’s in heat, surprised at the confessions he burns into your neck g’na marry you, fuck— that have you gasping and clenching in equal measure. Catalogues and litanies of honey, baby, fuckfuckfuck, god—growling devotions sinking into your throat, your shoulder, your chest. Sucking inscriptions in the common tongue of love as they slip past his lips.

You take all of him again and again, matching his pace, eyes squeezed shut, opening briefly but dazed. Panting and pleading his name, sudden waves of orgasm making you shake and shiver. Then he starts again— easier, kinder, letting the beast work its way back through his skin. Tongue sweeping lines. Canines pulling flesh.

You sigh and smile. A sacred dream of flesh and blood wrapped around him. “Wanna see you, baby,” you say, “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

So he does, blinking through the darkness and finds you like a beacon, as you always are, as you always will be. His hair falls to one side, lighter from the summer sun, suspended and rocking along.

“’S that good? Like this?”

“Yeah. Yes,” he babbles, “Wanna give you everything.”

“Come with me, Steve—come on, baby.”

And it’s all so fast. Your words. His words. Your hands. His hands. Hips moving in heavy thrusts and hair falling over his face and endless moans of god, fuck, 'm gonna come at the last minute before his eyes roll back behind his lids.

Steve buries his face into your neck, groaning. “Mine,” he whispers finally coming back to himself. Raspy and slow and again when you gasp. Your nails dig into his back reflexively, thighs squeezing him tight.

He’s smiling like an idiot because he doesn’t know what else to do about it. His heart is fluttering and filling up. He looked at you for too long, thought about you too hard even though you’re right here and his, and maybe that’s what launched itself into his dizzy head.

A hard kiss that makes you whimper. Mine. Another to the line of your open jaw. Mine. Your throat. Your collar. Your chest. Mine. Mine. Mine.

You smile into his temple, rubbing your cheek on him, too.

“Keeping me all to yourself?”

He nods eagerly, heart full, then overflowing. “Keeping you forever.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #modern!actor!steve #fic: hmlhr #Spotify

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emo-batboy · 1 year

Text

Battinson going toe-to-toe with Harley Quinn, but every time he fights her, she diagnoses him with another mental illness

—

Battinson: *monologuing to himself about the constant nightmares*

Harley, appearing from nowhere with a baseball bat: Sounds like PTSD :/ Are you okay, hon?

—

Harley, swinging from the chandelier of a bank she’s robbing: Ya know, I’ve been thinkin’! Have you ever been screened for autism?

Battinson: Wut

Harley: Oh, nothing! Just take it into consideration!

—

Harley, mid-arrest: I’m licensed to diagnose anxiety and depression! If you’d like an appointment, my door’s always open :D

Battinson: Please just get in the car

#autistic bruce wayne #battinson #batman #the batman 2022 #bruce wayne #harley quinn #battinson needs a hug #please let him go home #he is just #someone wrap him in a weighted blanket

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winterrsun · 2 months

Text

Comfort

Reader x Daryl Dixon

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only

A/n: This is smut but it’s like the fluffiest sappiest smut, it’s meant to be really emotionally gratifying. Also I’ve really kinda half heartedly set it up for a part 2 where they reunite with the group and Rick…let me know if you think I should continue this!

Summary: after the prison fell, you and Daryl start to mourn what you’ve lost and find comfort in each other, both emotional and physical.

————————————————————————

The last couple of weeks had been such a blur. After the prison fell, you were thrown back into survival mode and all sense of security was gone. You never knew where your next meal would come from, or whether you were minutes away from death. You were grateful you’d gotten out in the company of Daryl and Beth; you’d always gotten along with both of them and Daryl was one of the most experienced survivalists. It was nice having Beth to talk to and relate to the experience as well, neither of you being natural outdoorsmen. Even if he was a grumpy ass most of the time, and she was still a bit of a bratty teenager at heart, you’d fast grown extremely reliant on both of them being around you.

You’d all found a small shack to hole up in for a couple of nights, you’d also found a stash of moonshine in the cupboard. Beth had been insistent on trying her first drink. It made you both amused and sad when you compared her experience to your teenage party years, so while Daryl disapproved you thought it was only fair to have your own little party. That’s how the three of you ended up on the living room floor, laughing your heads off.

“Really Y/N, you never been camping?!” Beth questioned incredulously.

“Yer even more a princess than I thought” scoffed Daryl.

“Yeah yeah,” you laughed, “well I suppose my whole life’s a big camping trip now.”

“Alright alright, my turn!” Daryl exclaimed. “I never… bin to a wedding”.

“You what?! Daryl that’s just sad” you said before taking a large swig of the homemade booze.

“Yeah, even I’ve been to a couple. Only other time I drank any liquor, daddy let me have a glass of champagne” said Beth.

“What part of my life was a fucking shit show before all this do you two not get” he grumbled.

You rubbed his arm, “alright we know, just teasing you” you smiled.

Beth’s giggles turned to hiccups, and she eventually lay her head down on the sofa and you realised she’d gone to sleep.

You nudged Daryl and nodded at Beth. He smiled at you, and pointed to the singular bedroom in the shack- suggesting you and he should move into the other room so as not to wake her.

The room was small; a double bed took up almost all the floor space, so you plopped yourself down on it. Daryl followed, carrying the bottle of moonshine with him. He took a sip before passing it to you, who did the same.

“She’ll be right” he gestured to the door, referring to Beth in the other room.

“I know” you replied, “we’ve all been there, she just needs to sleep it off.”

He nodded and you fell into an easy silence, both taking additional sips now and then. You grew pensive, and some of the thoughts you’d been mulling around for days started to come to the surface. The tipsy haze in your brain had your lips moving before you even knew you wanted to share what was on your mind.

“I don’t think I’ve said it,” you said, looking to Daryl, “but I’m so grateful for the two of you. The amount of times I’ve wondered what kind of state I’d be in if I was on my own…”

“Can’t be thinkin like that” he replied gently.

“I know. It’s just, it makes me mad to think about how quickly our circumstances changed. Things were so good Dar, they were finally all coming together. And then…..it’s just nothing in this world can ever really work can it?” You were rambling a little, but Daryl didn’t look like he was going to challenge you or tell you to be quiet. He just looked at you sadly.

“Do you think we’ll ever see any of them again?” You whispered to him. A tear escaped your eye and started to trickle down your cheek.

“I don’t know” he replied, and to your surprise he reached towards your face and softly wiped the tear of your cheek, “but I’m glad we’re here together too”.

He didn’t remove his hand from your face, in fact he gently cupped your chin. You leaned into it, while his head dipped closer to you and he planted a soft kiss on your lips. You closed your eyes and allowed the sweet sensation to wash over you.

When he pulled back away he looked unsure of himself, and mumbled a “sorry” to you.

You shook your head, placed your hands on his chest and leaned back toward him, kissing him more deeply this time. His tongue crept into your mouth and started to dance with yours.

Your hands drew up behind his neck as the two of you continued, and he reached for your waist, pulling you into his lap. The kiss grew needier as you straddled him; it wasn’t a need driven by pure sex and physical desire. It was like all the emotions you’d been feeling since the prison poured into your movements, and Daryl lapped them up and returned them with his own. You could’ve been hugging, or crying in each others arms, but instead you were kissing and writhing against each others bodies and it had the same cathartic effect.

You clung onto him as he pulled his lips away from yours briefly, to gently and slowly peel your dirty shirt up from your body. You allowed him to manoeuvre your arms overhead so he could take it off and toss it aside. He then reached around and unclasped your bra, and took a moment to stare at and admire the sight before him.

“You’re beautiful” he almost whispered, starting to run his hands over your breasts and grope them lightly. “I’m gonna take care of you Y/N, I promise”.

You were almost overwhelmed at this moment of pure bliss. You’d never thought there’d be anything sexual between you and Daryl. He was one of your best friends, with a bond like family. Sure he was hot. You’d notice his biceps peaking out of that winged vest and your heart might’ve quickened slightly every time you saw the way he gripped his motorbike handles. But you’d always just been friends.

Let alone the fact that you actually had a thing with his best friend. You and Rick had never defined whatever it was between you, but there was denying when he snuck into your cell nearly every night who you belonged to.

But Rick was gone. You didn’t know where, or if he was even alive, or if you’d ever see him again. It played on your mind every single day. You missed him so much more than all the others, longed for him. You were sick of it eating at you, and you just wanted to feel good for the first time in weeks.

You clawed at Daryl’s shirt, and he took a break from massaging your breasts to help you remove the black tee from his body. You pressed into him as your lips found his again and you relished the feeling of his skin against yours. It felt warm and unbelievably comforting. He began to rub circles on the small of your back and you arched into his touch.

“Daryl” you breathed against his mouth.

“What do you need baby?” He asked, pulling back and grabbing your face in both of his hands, eyes searching yours.

“You…I just need you” you said pleadingly.

Daryl shifted beneath you and lifted you up to flip you onto your back on the bed.

He slowly pulled your pants down and hovered over your torso, looking at your cotton panties. He dipped down and placed a soft kiss on your abdomen, creeping along your hip line. You hummed and wriggled at the tickling sensation, enjoying it. You felt a warmth envelop you from his touches. Then his fingers hooked into the elastic around your waist and pulled the fabric down from your body.

He ran his hand back up your leg, his eyes following the movements before he flitted them up to your face. You made eye contact and he sought the non verbal confirmation that you were okay. You bit your lip in anticipation as you gazed up at him, allowing yourself to be completely vulnerable under his touch. Now fully naked on the bed.

You gasped as his fingers found their way into your fold, and began to gently stroke around. You flinched slightly as he ran over your clit for the first time, and he placed a kiss back on your lips, then trailing down your neck. He began drawing circles around your sensitive nub at a steady but not too fast pace and he lifted his head back up to study your face again.

“So beautiful” he commented. You arched your back off the bed and moan softly. He picked up the pace a little and your pleasure increased.

“Daryl” you gasped, “I need more. I want all of you”.

He nodded, stroked your hair with his free hand before withdrawing them both to unbutton and remove his pants. You lowered your eyes and watched as he freed his sizeable cock from his underpants. You sat up and leaned forward, glancing up at him with doe eyes before attaching your lips to his member.

He groaned as you took him in your warm, wet mouth. You suckled and licked around it, playing with him while lubing him up for you. His hands found their way into your hair, loosely gripping it while you bobbed your head back and forth. He threw his head back and savoured the sensation.

After a little while you pulled away and he gently pushed your shoulder so you lay back on the bed. He braced himself over you and lined himself up, gazing down into your eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re here” he whispered, hovering outside your entrance. You nudged your head up to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Me too” you said softly.

Then he slowly thrust into you. It ached just a little on the way in, but you quickly adjusted to him. For the first time in weeks you felt whole, and human, and like you were capable of something other than simply just surviving as he sank inside you.

You tensed around him and wrapped your legs around his body, which he took as a signal to start pumping his hips in and out of you. Warmth filled your body, radiating from your core to chest at the feeling of connection and intimacy. To your surprise, tears prickled your eyes as you felt emotionally stimulated as much as physically. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit onto Daryl’s shoulder, allowing his warm skin to absorb the moan that left you.

“Don’t need to keep too quiet pretty girl” he said encouragingly. You smirked and let go, noting the love bite you’d left behind before moaning out into the room this time as his hips continued to pound into you.

He pulled out briefly and you were left feeling empty and disappointed, just for him to gently grab your thigh and push your leg back towards your face, hooked behind his arm. He pushed back in and you relished the new, deeper angle.

“Fuuuck, yesss” you hissed and he smirked down at you.

“Feels good baby?” He cooed before grind his hips in a particularly deep thrust and you nodded, moaning in reply.

He picked up the pace now and you felt the heat grow in your belly, driven more by lust at this point. Your climax was building, and it was as if Daryl could tell. He drove into you faster than before, angling his hips upwards to hit just the right spot.

“Dar! I’m gonna” you began-

“I know baby, let go” he soothed.

With an almost scream you came, it rippled through you in waves and he rode it out with you. In this moment nothing else mattered, not the situation you were in, the home you’d lost, the people you’d been seperated from. It was just bliss for a perfect moment.

As your pleasure subsided Daryl snapped his hips into a few more hard times before grunting himself and moving to pull out of you.

“Don’t!” You cried without thinking, holding his hips to yours with your small hands. You felt his dick pulsate inside you as he painted your walls with his cum. It was the last, comforting gesture you wanted to take from him tonight. The feeling of him filling you up as much he possibly could.

His sweaty forehead met yours as he stopped moving, and you felt his penis jerk inside you one last time before all was still. You panted together for a few seconds, before he slowly rolled over to lay next to you.

You felt his ejaculate trickle out of you onto the bed, and groaned at the mess, grinning at him.

He looked around and grabbed a throw blanket from the end of the bed, using it to roughly wipe up you and the linen beneath you. You both chuckled, and he tossed it aside before throwing an arm around you and pulling you towards him to lay your head on his chest.

With your head on his bare skin and listening to the sound of his heart beat and the sensation of his breath rise and fall, you closed your eyes and fell asleep. He planted once last kiss to the top of your head before doing the same.

You woke with a start to the sound of birds chirping and sunlight beginning to creep in through the window, neck stiff from the angle you slept at. You felt chilly and looked down to see goosebumps over your bare body. Not just yours, you noted the extra limbs tangled with yours and remembered the situation you were in. You smiled to yourself, knowing that the amazing night was a once off for you both.

Daryl had just started to stir at your movements on the bed, before you heard movements in the other room. A female voice groaning, before stomping quick footsteps and the sound of coughing and liquid splashing the metal sink. Beth had arisen, and was experiencing her first hangover. You almost would have giggled, except you realised you had to get dressed quick and decide how to explain the two of spending the night in a small room with one double bed.

You looked back at Daryl, now fully awake and judging by the expression on his face thinking the same thing you were.

“Well, back to reality” you whispered with a shrug.

He pulled you in for one last embrace, planting a kiss firmly to your lips before whispering back “thanks for last night beautiful”.

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon smut #Daryl x reader #Daryl x reader smut #Daryl Dixon x reader #daryl twd #twd Daryl #the walking dead #Daryl Dixon fic #darly Dixon x you

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pandorxxx · 10 months

Text

Sweet mind of yours…

Lo’ak x metkayinan fem reader (all aged up)

Warnings: fluff, smut, cursing, creampie, orgasms, p in v, belly bulge.

Synopsis: you and lo’ak had been close ever since he came to your clan seeking Uturu. It was clear that you both liked each other, but you were scared. Scared of what might happen if you finally let him in. What happens when you finally do?

“Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” His words rolled off of his tongue like molasses with a bright smile. His baritone knocking you out of your trance.

You picked your head up, meeting his soft gaze. His eyes were pools of rich honey…inviting, almost too inviting. You were falling hard, and you knew other girls were too. He was the shiny new toy around the clan, but it seemed as if he wanted to spend all of his time with you.

His strong, calloused hands were delicately placed in his lap. His posture slightly slouched as he sat next to you on the edge of the rock. You’d normally bring him here to watch the sunset, but the sunset wasn’t the only view.

His freckles danced under the dimly lit sky, like painted constellations across his broad chest. His braided hair, placed in a loose ponytail as one braid covered his eye, courtesy of you. Once you told him how handsome he looked, he never stopped with the style.

His smile, so sweet and delicate. It made your heart flutter every time you saw him. And tonight seemed to prove no different.

“Thinkin’ about how dull my life was…before you came along.” You smiled back, a dusty purple tint staining your cheeks in nervousness.

“Is that so?” He asked playfully, bumping your shoulder with his gently. You let out a soft giggle, smiling down at your feet, swishing the ocean water around beneath you. You nodded in response.

“Yup. Know what else?” You turned to look at the side of his face briefly before turning away, avoiding eye contact at all costs. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell me, huh?” He chuckled, now staring at the side of your face, hoping you would give him the gift of your beautiful blue eyes. It was like you two were playing a game of tag. You were never good with direct eye contact, especially with lo’ak.

“How every girl here is probably frothing at the mouth for you.” You joked, but nothing about it was a game to you. It was scary to know that this could all end in the blink of an eye. He cocked an eyebrow, staring out into the crystal blue water.

“Nah. I'm not too much interested in any of those girls. Plus, I’ve got my eyes on a beauty already. Just wish she had her eyes on me…” the last sentence trailed off into the air as his eyes met the side of your face again. And you could feel the heat radiating on your cheek. He let out a patient sigh, kicking his feet languidly in the water.

“Why don’t you look at me?” He asked with a concerned tone. His hand engulfing yours. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you unintentionally pulled away from his embrace.

“I-I wasn’t trying to- Im sorry.” He panicked, before face palming, followed by a shake of his head in embarrassment. It became awkward, and you couldn’t help but think you ruined the moment.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to look at him for too long, or that you didn’t want him to touch you. In fact, you wanted all of those things more than anything else. You were just scared. Scared that if you stared at him for a second too long, you’d fall in love. Scared that if his fingertips grazed your skin the right way, you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself. And although he was sending you all of the right signals, what if you misread them?

It was scary for you, all of it. There were so many worthy girls here. Why would it be you? How could it be…you? The silence filled the air, and he couldn’t take it. It was all too much for him.

He couldn’t read you even if he tried. He had a feeling that you liked him, but you never really let him in. Never opened up. He needed to know how you felt about this. Even if that meant pushing the boundaries of your friendship by making the first move.

“Y/n…” he sighed, shifting his entire body to face you. You swallowed thickly, as it seemed that he wasn’t going to let this go. You slowly shifted your entire body to face him as well, crossing your legs on the rock. He did the same, pulling you alittle closer to him by your waist. Being as gentle as possible with you.

“You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on in that sweet mind. I can’t read you, as much as I would like to.” He spoke softly, engulfing your hands in his, still searching for your eye contact. Your heart ached in fear, knowing that this was quite literally now or never.

“I-I can’t. Please don’t make me.” You shook your head, tears clouding your vision. So many feelings coming to the forefront. Feelings that you’ve worked so hard to suppress. It was safe to say that you were madly in love with him, so much that it hurt.

“Yes you can, please. I-I need to know what’s behind those beautiful eyes that you like hiding from me so much.” His hands trailed up to caress your cheek. An audible gasp escaped your lips. Your body began to heat up, and not in the way you’d think. Not so much with lust…it was deeper than that. It was as if you had finally found what you’d been searching for. The touch you’d been yearning for, but was too afraid to reach out and take. He was your missing piece, and it was evident now more than ever.

“Y/n, I don’t know what you’ve done to me. But I can't seem to shake the feelings I have for you. Can’t seem to shake the feeling that we belong together. I just wish I knew how you felt about me. It’s like I know you…but I don’t. I can’t make sense of this. So maybe we can help eachother.” He confessed, a hopeful smile creeping across his lips. And just like that, he had your attention.

Your eyes met his after his confession. Your ears flicking in the wind while your tail swayed high behind you. “There’s my girl…” he smiled, watching in awe at your reaction. Finally confirming what you felt for him, you didn’t even have to say it…but you felt the need to.

“Lo’ak, you just kinda came in and swept me off of my feet. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I don’t know what this is either, but I know that I just wanna be with you. That’s all I wanna do, lo’ak.” You finally confessed, still maintaining that eye contact he’d been craving ever since he laid eyes on you.

He bit his lip with a cheesy smile. His hands finding your dainty arms, caressing them in a way of praising you for finally opening up to him. You shifted to your knees, reaching a hand out to caress his cheek. His face was soft, yet his cheek bones were prominent and sharp. Your eyes traced over his intricate freckle pattern, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Lastly, your eyes trailed over his lips. Your thumb gently brushing over his bottom lip. Now his tail was swaying high, patiently waiting for you to make the first move. He was just happy to witness you coming out of your shell. Just happy to be in your presence. He’d wait forever for you…

“If you wanna kiss me, I won’t stop you.” He chuckled. You bit your bottom lip, deciding that you wanted to do alittle more than that. You straddled his lap, holding onto his shoulders for support.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, eyebrow cocked as his hands found their place on your waist. Your lips crashed into his, essentially answering his lingering question. He let out a satisfied groan, shifting his hands down to your hips. You grabbed the sides of his head to deepen the long overdue kiss, instinctively grinding into him.

His huge hands guided your hips to create the right amount of friction. You both moaning into the kiss at this point. You could feel his cock growing by the second, and he could feel the pool between your legs. It was absolutely bliss.

“May I?” Lo’ak asked in between kisses, tugging on the back of your loincloth. “You can do whatever you want to me.” You spoke breathily, moving down to his neck, leaving hickeys on his skin.

“Mmm baby, don’t get me started.” He grunted, planting sweet pecks on your shoulder as he untied your loincloth from around your tail. He tapped your thigh, signaling for you to sit up briefly for him to pull the loincloth from underneath you, and you happily obliged.

An immediate flow of your slick trickled down to his thighs. You were more than ready for him, and had been for some time now.

“Take this off.” You whispered in his ear as you tugged on his loincloth with great force. He let out a soft chuckle at your sudden eagerness. He shifted you to your back, with him now kneeling between your legs. His eyes trailed your entire body, your freckles glistening in the night sky.

“So beautiful.” He shook his head in awe, reaching behind himself to untie his loincloth, the fabric dropping to the ground beneath him. His cock sprung up, hitting his belly with a loud, heavy slap. A string of precum oozing out of his tip. The freckles on his shaft

dancing individually in anticipation. Your legs had intentionally opened alittle more. You reached out, your fingertips just barely grazing over the base in wonder. He let out a soft gasp, his tail hitting the ground with force repeatedly in excitement.

“So beautiful.” You smirked, leaning back on the ground, ready for him to take you as his. Ready for him to have his way with you. He smiled at you, grabbing his cock to jerk it off slowly.

He then proceeded to thrust in between your wet folds, earning a soft moan from you. “Please, give it to me.” You whined, grabbing his cock to line it up with your aching hole. His eyes widened in anticipation, letting you take control for right now. With one simple push, you slide him into you slowly, your walls immediately sucking him in. You both letting out a series of moans.

“Fuuuck, baby girl.” He whimpered, gripping your hips to thrust into you expertly. Immediately hitting all the right spots in a matter of seconds. Your back bowed to the rock, exposing the large print In your lower belly with every hard thrust into you.

“Y-You’re in m-my fucking stomach, lo’ak.” You whined in pleasure, head tilted all the way back as your eyes rolled. Your dainty hand dancing around the print.

“I-I know, I know mama. Taking it so well, too.” He grunted, running his hand over the bulge briefly. The pleasure was consuming the both of you, more so you. You couldn’t seem to control the sounds that came out of your mouth, or the faces you made. It’s like lo’ak had completely control over you.

Your hands found their way to your face, trying to hide yourself from him. Your screams becoming muffled instantly. His thrusts quickened, and deepened. His tip constantly slamming against your sweet spot.

“No, no, no baby. I wanna see you.” He spoke lowly, gently grabbing your hands, holding both of your wrists in one of his large hands as he continued to fuck into you like it was the last time he’d see you.

You tucked your bottom lip into your mouth. Eyebrows furrowed, and face screwed in pleasure as you tried desperately to hide your cries.

“Oh come on, mama. Don’t hide from me. Let that shit out. You know you can’t hold it forever.” His baritone soothing your eardrum just right. He sent you slow, hard strokes. So intense that you had no other choice but to drop your jaw. Small whimpers escaping through with every meeting of his pelvis to yours.

“Yesss, juuust like that baby. Open up.” He nodded, licking his bottom lip as he stared into your eyes. He shifted your legs over his shoulders, before placing his hands on either side of your head. You were nearly folded in half. His face hovering just over yours, so there was no excuse not to look at him. He was deeper than he’d ever been, closer than he’d ever been.

“Lo’ak- t-oooo deep.” You whimpered, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He just watched you in awe. You were so pretty taking all of him, and he couldn’t get enough.

“I know, baby. You’ve gotta take it for me. You’re too pretty like this.” He moaned, rolling his hips into you as he stared down at your flustered face, waiting for a reaction.

“Ohhh my- lo’ak! I-I love you! I love youuuu!” You screamed, legs beginning to shake. He nodded in satisfaction, his breaths becoming short and heavy.

“Mmm, I love you too baby.” He confessed, a slight whine in his tone before his bottom lip found comfort between his teeth. You could feel it, your stomach began to contract, almost like you were exercising. Every stroke was revealing trickles of your arousal flowing down to the surface beneath you, and it was becoming too much for lo’ak to bare as well.

“Shiiit, y/n. You’re gonna make me fucking cum. You’re d-driving me crazy baby.” He whined, before his lips crashed into yours. You both muffling eachothers loud moans as your peeks neared. “Lo’aaaak. I-I” you moaned deliriously between kisses.

“Go ahead baby. Cum for me. I wanna feel that shit, you hear me?” He asked, a tinge of aggression in his tone. You nodded frantically, eyes locked on his.

“Cum in me. Pleaseeee!” You begged, pulling him in for another kiss. He sent you one hard thrust, rolling his hips into yours again with a loud growl against your lips. Your eyes crossed in pleasure. Your legs began to tremble uncontrollably, slipping off his shoulders and to the side of his hips. You pulled him into you, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let go on him.

“Yessss, I-Im cumming lo’ak. I’m cumming!” You whimpered, walls fluttering around his sensitive shaft. He let out a series of low groans and growls as he emptied himself inside of you. Thrusting into you languidly as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Take it all, baby. Milk me dry.” He moaned, rubbing his head into your neck, scenting you to claim you as his. He sent you one last stroke before leaving himself inside of you. You both catching your breath as he laid ontop of you.

“That was…” he started.

“Amazing” you finished.

He flipped you both over, you were now ontop of him and he laid flat across the rock. You two were now face to face. Sharing the same breath. It was beautiful. “If you’d let me. I’d love to see what’s going on in this beautiful mind of yours.” He smiled, grabbing his queue, bringing it In between you two. You watched his trendils dance. You lazily reach behind you, grabbing yours to bring it to the forefront. It was almost like a magnetic force, the way both of your trendils pulled towards eachother like they belonged together.

You both watched as they connected. Pupils blown with an audible gasp from both of you. It’s like your memories of eachother were in sync. A little movie playing of all the moments you spent with eachother. Only things that’s you two would share, now and forever.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I love you more, lo’ak.”

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fortheloveoffanfic · 9 months

Text

Daylight

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Author's note: Sort of AU; Grace is alive and runs the children's home herself. Do I make this a thing or nah? Summary: Tommy's affair with a school teacher employed at his wife's charity venture reaches a cross roads. Masterlists Warnings: Angst, infidelity

Sometimes, the shame of what they’ve been doing feels like punishment enough. The ache in her chest when she looks in the mirror, the pinch in her soul when she catches the lingering scent of him on her sheets and the bruises that she’s earned from trying to scrub his touch off her skin in the bath- it feels cruel enough to make her stop.

But she hasn’t.

Because when he shows up at her door, or she picks up the telephone and its his voice on the other end, her guilt melts, only to be replaced with pride and something that’s akin to a pleasant flutter in her chest. When Thomas touches her, the rest of the world fades away and for an hour or two, they’re in a realm of their own, where the poison tastes like wine and sin feels like the closest thing they’ll ever get to heaven. Perhaps it is.

What if the warmth of his embrace and the feel of his mouth on her neck is the closest she’ll ever be to paradise and the sound of his voice rasping sweet nothing and empty promises in her ear is the only and truest happiness she’ll ever get?

What if it starts and ends with Thomas? Heaven, hell and everything in between.

At times, Y/n can swear he feels the same. When the room goes dead silent while he’s getting dressed or he takes care to not speak her name when they’re on the phone speaks volumes to the guilt he harbors. And even if it shouldn’t, and she doesn’t understand how, it gives Y/n some comfort that he feels the same too. At least its something else they share, something that transcends the weight of his body on hers; a burden that binds them.

The burden she feels privileged to bear; at least Thomas chose her, his eyes search the room for hers and he seeks her out in private moments. She’s special to him, at least, Y/n hopes she is.

She has to be, else she’s just another mistress, lurking in the shadows and lurking in the background of another woman’s marriage.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, eh?” The tips of Thomas’ fingers trail up and down her spine as she traces the tattoo on his chest.

“Huh?” Having lapsed into deep thought, Y/n missed half his question.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” He repeats, “You’ve been….lost in your head all evening,” he raises his hand a little to thread his fingers through her hair.

“Oh,” Y/n elicits softly, “I’ve just been….” She knits her brows as doubt creeps in; what if she is just a mistress? What if Thomas is just waiting for the next best thing to catch his eye before he moves on from her? If Grace, the woman who he’d been entrapped with from the minute they met couldn’t keep him on the straight and narrow, then she can’t be much more than a good Friday evening.

“Do you think….” She hesitates before continuing, wondering if she even wants the truth. “Do you think….you ever might stay one day?”

Thomas hums in contemplation, “Grace might take Charles to Ireland to see her family next month, maybe I could-”

“I don’t mean like that,” Y/n rolls over and out of his embrace, tucking the worn duvet under her chin in a manner that feels almost childish.

Sighing heavily, Thomas reaches to give her hip a squeeze before shuffling closer, “Oh come on,” he chides lightly, “Don’t be like that sweetheart,” he plants a chaste kiss on her cheek.

Blinking away a wave of moisture that prods at her eyes, Y/n huffs, “Be like what?” She retorts defensively.

Exhaling again, Thomas skirts around her question, “Let's not ruin our afternoon, yeah? Why don’t we open the bottle’a wine I brought? Its one you like,” he offers, hoping the problem is one he can solve with expensive liquor.

“I don’t want wine,” she spats bitterly.

“Then what do you want, eh?” Thomas gives her hip soothing rub and she clutches the fabric tighter, “Tell me and you’ll have it. Fuckin’ anythin’.”

“I just told you want I want,” Y/n huffs, shifting so she can settle on her back. Lifting her hand, she reaches to touch his face. Slowly, she drags the back of her fingers up the side of his face, caressing his sharp cheekbone, the tip of his ear and then the side of his head. “Why don’t you ever stay?” She asks softly, searching his eyes.

“Its complicated, you kn-”

“Its been complicated,” Y/n rolls her glassy eyes and sniffles. “I love you,” she professes in a hushed, pitiful tone, “But I hate this,” Y/n admits just as Thomas lifts his hand so the tips of his fingers graze her cheek. When he doesn’t respond with anything more than icy blue eyes searching hers, she continues, “It feels like we’re trying to outrun something,” she looks past him, to the plain ceiling above.

Thomas doesn’t return the profession of her affections, he never has and Y/n often thinks she’ll never hear those words from his lips. But in the absence of them, she’s interpreted every minuscule action- and inaction- to mean that he does love her. The tenderness of his touch, his forehead pressed to hers after they kiss and his arm curled around her shoulders pulling her close.

Knitting his brows, Thomas regards her curiously, “What do you mean?” His thumb traces her jaw and he searches her eyes, “We’re good, everything’s alright,” it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than he is her.

Swallowing thickly, Y/n shakes her head, “Its not,” she sits up, taking handfuls of the sheets up with her to guard her modesty and Thomas shifts to slide an arm across her back and tuck her into his side, “I see it in your face all the time. That guilt; You don’t want to do this to…” Y/n can’t even bring herself to say Grace’s name, “Her.”

He doesn’t offer an immediate response, which is enough to tell Y/n that she’s right. “Its complicated,” Thomas eventually repeats.

Licking her lips, Y/n scoffs, “Is it complicated or is everything alright?” Sniffling, she turns her face towards the wall to her left, pale yellow flowers decorating light pink paper, the orange glow of the evening sun making it seem a bit brighter than it usually is.

He’s going to leave soon, like he usually does. She doesn’t even know why she even bothered asking him to stay when she’d known the answer before it came.

“Why’re you changing your mind on me, eh?” He gives her shoulder a squeeze, “What we have is good. You get what you what, I get what I want; it works.”

His words cut deep; they make whatever it is they have between them seem so transactional. His certainty scares her too; is that what's always been to him? Money and sex?

Y/n has never been a prostitute, before Thomas she held herself in high esteem; she’s a school teacher at his wife’s orphanage, she doesn’t give herself up to just any man, especially not married ones- but he’d walked into that place one morning and her whole world had been turned on his head. He roused a flutter in her stomach that she’d never felt before and his crude charm was unlike anything she’d ever come across. She’d known he was married even then, she knew whose husband Thomas was, but Y/n couldn’t resist his offer to dance at the orphanage’s annual Christmas party or his flirtations when he’d led her to a vacant balcony.

“I like you,” he’d said, lips close to hers and fingers curled under her chin.

He liked her. She liked him too.

“Have you ever been to London?” She hadn’t, but she should’ve said no, “I have a place there, a club. Lots’a rich fuckers,” he’d chuckled and she’s smiled, “But fuckin’ good champagne. I’d like to take you.”

Y/n should have said no, she sometimes wonders what would have happened if she had.

Would someone else have come along after? Would Thomas have persisted in his pursuit?

“Not anymore,” Y/n shakes her head, “Not for me,” sniffling, shrugs off his arm and reaches for her slip, which hangs off an iron bedpost. Suddenly embarrassed to be naked around him and burning with the desire to cover up, she tugs on the silk garment and pulls in down her thighs as she shuffles out of bed.

As she stands, Thomas reaches for her hand before Y/n can walk away, “What can I do, eh? Mm?” His calloused thumb caresses the back of her hand as he gazes up at her with wide, desperate eyes, “Why don’t we go away for a weekend? London, the country- whatever you want.”

Licking her lips, Y/n glances down at their joined hands, “Will you go home after?” The question ushers in a period of tense silence and Thomas averts his gaze for a moment.

“Y/n,” he breathes her name and just for a moment, she thinks Thomas is going to give her the answer she’s hoping for- or at least, a worthwhile lie. But when he doesn't, a lone tear slips past tangled lashes and warms its way down her cheek. “You know its not that easy for me.”

“Well this isn’t easy for me either, you know,” Y/n wretches her hand away and hastily swipes at her face, “Next time your bored of your life,” she shakes her head and by then the tears are falling, unchecked, “You should stay home,” her voice breaks and her throat burns.

Gathering the sheets around his hips, Thomas rises from the bed to follow Y/n as she heads towards the door of the adjoining bathroom, “Sweetheart, think about this, eh,” he tries to reason placatingly, “You don’t want to do this.”

She really doesn’t.

“Doesn’t matter,” Y/n swallows thickly, pausing as she reaches for the knob, “Please….just go.”

When Thomas reaches for her arm, she lets him, almost forgetting herself and submitting to his comfort. “Neither of us want that,” he offers quietly, “Please don’t do this to me,” he pleads.

His desperation seems so genuine that Y/n briefly considers back-tracking. Briefly. But she can’t keep living like that; in the shadows, like a crime. She cannot stand to be just another thing that he needs to atone for; another regret on his ever-growing list.

And she’s starting to hate that he’s even made her one in the first place.

“Just go!” In a fit of unbridled anger, she snatches her arm away and then pushes at his chest when Thomas tries to get closer, “Just go and leave me alone!” She snarls, “Go back to your fucking wife,” a sob punctuate her words and Y/n bends her head as she cries, “And leave me alone.”

“Is that what you want, eh?" He swallows harshly, "For me to leave you the fuck alone? So you can....fuck!” She knows he can come up with a million insults that'll hurt as much as a serrated blade hacking away at her heart, but Thomas spares her and she can only hope because deep down, she does mean more to him than a good shag. In the absence of razor sharp words, Thomas’ jaw tightens and his gaze hardens, matching her fury.

It takes a handful of seconds before she finds the resolve to answer, but when she does, she lifts her head and squares her shoulders, “Yes.”

Mirroring her defiance, Thomas’ grip on the sheet around his hips tightens until his knuckles are white, “Fine.”

For a solid minute, they linger there, her back to the bathroom door and Thomas in the middle of the bedroom. She can’t tell whether or not he’s hurt, he’s always been good at protecting his feelings- she’s never known anymore about him that he’s wanted her to.

And yet, Y/n thinks she’s as close to him as anyone could be.

But no more.

“Y/n-” The minute her name leaves his lips, Y/n turns abruptly and heads into the bathroom, shutting the door so harshly behind herself that the frame rattles. Lurching forward, she drops to her knees and turns on the hot water and still gripping the glass knob with one hand, she holds onto the lip of the porcelain tub with the other as her loud wails join the sound of falling water.

At least she doesn’t have to feel guilty anymore.

#cillian murphy #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #fanfic #daylight

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bruisedboys · 1 year

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could I request something from Eddie’s POV? maybe where he and the reader are pretty friendly but just about acquaintances and he’s kind of obsessed with her (in a semi creepy but mostly he’s so in love) thank you thank you

thank you for your request, I love writing in eddie’s pov it’s so fun. hope this is okay!!

fem!reader 0.6k words

Eddie Munson is never going to get over the fact that you, the prettiest, sweetest girl he’s ever met, actually wants to be in his company. What’s more, you want to endure Hellfire to spend more time with him.

Hellfire, as its name suggests, is not far from hot hell. He still doesn’t know why you’re here.

“Edster.” Your voice is a little jokey as you nudge Eddie’s elbow with your own, your shoulder pressing into his. “Y’didn’t go and get lost on me again, did you?”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

You giggle, a sweet sound that makes Eddie lightheaded. “Nothing, bub.” Your hand lands on his knee and you give him a squeeze. “Doesn’t matter. How long til your club gets here?”

Eddie forgets how to speak. Your hand sets his entire leg on fire. He fishes around his brain for an answer.

“Oh, um. I dunno, they should be here soon.” Eddie rubs the back of his boiling hot neck. “Maybe five minutes?”

Whether you notice his lack of coherent speech or not, Eddie doesn’t know. You stand and suddenly Eddie’s staring right at the back of your thigh, your skin exposed by your short skirt. He thinks he might die on the spot.

Eddie talks without really meaning to, his mouth spilling words before he can stop them. “So, um. Why are you here again?”

He’d meant it like why are you hanging out with me, a total loser? But he’d accidentally made it sound like he doesn’t want you here, which is definitely not the case. You turn from where you're poised over the table, looking understandably offended.

Eddie scrambles. “I-I mean.” He’s definitely red in the face. Definitely. He scrubs the back of his neck again like that will help. “You don’t even like Dungeons and Dragons.”

Understanding crosses your face and then a flash of something akin to embarrassment, though it’s so quick Eddie thinks he might’ve imagined it. You shrug and round the table, your perfectly lacquered nails dragging over the wood.

“I dunno,” you say, voice a pitch higher than usual but Eddie’s so up in his head he doesn’t notice. “Seems kinda fun to watch.”

“It’s not.”

You snort. “You’re not being a very good advocate of your own club right now, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs, because you’re funny and you’re pretty and he has no idea how the fuck he’s supposed to act around you. Meanwhile, you’re leaning over the table to pick up a dice, your necklaces dangling. Eddie accidentally looks straight at your chest and then hastily looks away, his face burning. He really needs to get this staring problem under control.

“Eddie, are you okay?” You ask. You’ve got a dice in your hands, fiddling with it in your ringed fingers. But you’re frowning. “You look distracted.”

I’ve been caught, Eddie thinks. Red handed.

“Who, me?” He says jauntily, hitching what he hopes is a convincing grin onto his face. “I’m fine. Just thinkin’.”

You snort. “Eddie Munson, thinking?” You tease, sarcasm drenching your tone. “What about?”

“Super important Hellfire stuff,” Eddie lies through his teeth.

You look like you maybe know he’s lying but then he’s saved by the door opening and loud voices flooding in. In come his clan of nerds, louder than a band of monkeys.

“Hey, Eddie!” Says one of them.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” says another.

“Didn’t know you were bringing your girlfriend to club today!” Says Gareth gleefully.

Eddie groans. “Fuck off, Gareth.”

His face burning, Eddie looks to you, an apology on the tip of his tongue but you’re giggling and looking almost as flushed as he feels.

Mid-laugh you meet Eddie’s gaze and smile at him in a way that he doesn’t quite understand but makes his heart race anyway.

“It’s okay,” you mouth, before he can apologise for his friend’s absurd behaviour.

Eddie’s thinking about it for the entire rest of the meeting.

#★ mal writes!#ღ eds #finally FINALLY got this done. yay #I’m trying to finish all my asks so I can do my 1k LMFAO #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader fluff

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ocn-blvd · 3 months

Text

what once was.

summary ellie travels back to jackson after leaving for her revenge quest… only to live with a certain consequence.

warning nothing but utter despair </3

opening the door to allow the coldness and splatters of wetness from outside to evade the warmness of her lonely one bedroom house as you saw the face of a long lost loved one, standing in the hard rain with her hair and clothes sticking to her freckled skin.

"hey you..." that voice. that raspy, yet sweet voice you couldn't get enough of. you wanted to wake up to that melody every morning and you wanted it to be the thing that lulled you to sleep at night— but it was gone when she disappeared from your sight.

that shocked look in your eyes wasn't hard for her to miss - it was like she could read you like an open book. that’s a skill she's grown to build and learn since she’d met you at the mere age of fourteen.

"i missed you a lot," she admitted with that dorky smile of hers, nervous of what you'd say next. leaving you for half a year was one of her biggest regrets; deeming that leaving the only loving relationship she had behind for a fruitless revenge quest was foolish.

she cried in your arms that night, expressing how much she loved you as her tears stained the best shirt you owned. you told her you were seeing another woman, having been on a date with her a few minutes prior to this surprise appearance.

“i love you. i just can’t lose you again, i won’t be able to handle it.”

you knew the day that she left to avenge the death of her father figure that her mind was already made. she left you alone, with nothing else to fight for.

“you’ve already lost me.”

and she begged for forgiveness repeatedly, like a broken record. she needed you in her life. she couldn’t see a life without your beautiful form in it. her pleas clogged her voice box as she began to spill sobs instead.

that was a year ago, and now you were walking the streets with your new partner, hand-in-hand as you two shared a loving smile. unexpectedly, your bright eyes found her dim green ones.

“hi,” you waved at her, putting your hands in the front pockets of your coat. she couldn’t believe that you waved at her. that one word that fell from your lips was just enough to make her melt and to have her heart thump into that same rhythm whenever she was around you. she almost forgot how it felt pounding against her chest. and to see you in person for the first time since, felt even better.

“hi.”

“long time no see,” you chuckled as she felt the vibrations course through her veins and enter her brain, releasing endorphins.

“that’s an understatement,” she managed a soft curl of her lips. “i can’t even begin to describe how much i’ve missed you.”

and there it was; her love language of affirmation that continued to spew out despite her heart almost completely breaking from the sight of you officially moving on. it made that feeling you could only experience with her return; true love.

“i’ve missed you too,” you admitted, making her dimpled cheek mark a presence as she smiled widely— admiring every facial feature of yours as if she hadn’t done this a million times. you really were as lovely as she remembered. every detail that she missed about you had been burned into her memories.

“are you happy?” she asked softly; something she’s always wanted to ask.

you grinned and said, “getting there. how about you?”

“i’m okay too,” she masked that feeling of pain as her mind kept wondering if your new partner was the reason for your response. and yet, hoping all of these months made this moment all the more sweeter to her. “i’ve, uh… been thinkin’ about you lately.”

“really?”

“yeah,” your ears picked up the soft chuckle she emitted. she certainly missed this— missed you.

“did you ever think about me?”

“i have,” you looked down at your shoes that stamped the inches of snow. “i was wondering if you left Jackson.”

“i-i didn’t. i was hoping to bump into you again actually. you were the only thing keepin’ me here.”

and it echoed through your thoughts— you were the only thing keeping her here.

“i was worried about you.”

and to think that she thought you had completely forgotten about her. her eyes lit up like a bulb when she consumed soft your words. she had spent many months in a slump over the fact that you hadn’t been in her life— but now that you were here, it gave her much more hope. “i was worried about you too.”

you let out a giggle that made her smile. “you should’ve came to see me. you know where i live.”

“didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”

“why would you think that?”

“you’ve moved on. you have this entire new life without me,” she nervously played with her pinkie and ring finger, “that’s how i’ve been convincing myself anyway— that you probably never wanted to see me again,” she shrugged,

“i’m just your past now.”

“i’ll always have room for you.”

that’s when she realized that you truly were still the same girl she fell in love with. she was falling in love with you all over again; and she couldn’t stop even if she tried. her dates with three women for the past year couldn’t reach this level of endearment.

“i’m glad i stayed then. it was worth the wait just to see you again,” she fought tears like she was in a war, losing the battle almost immediately. she swallowed that emotional lump just for it to regurgitate itself through her teary eyes and shaky voice.

“i never got over you, you know? i just couldn’t get myself to,” and as each month passed, she just kept remembering the sweet memories you two had together.

they would be the only thing she had to cherish you by after you admitted that you didn’t see another romantic relationship with her as of that moment. but the sight of her breaking down in front of you was what pinched your heart with sadness of your own. you cupped her chiseled cheeks and wiped the soft pads of your thumbs over her wet cheeks, looking into those emerald eyes that were overflowing with sapphire.

“don’t let me be the reason why you’re not out there trying to look for someone new,” you only wanted what was best for her. she deserved happiness in this world so unfair. you watched her eyes water even more as she failed to contain herself. her voice never sounded so broken.

“how can i ever love someone else when i’m still madly in love with you? there’s no one even remotely close to what you mean to me. i don’t want anyone else. i only want you.”

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #tlou2 #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie x you

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lemony-and-zesty · 3 months

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Your au has hit me with the hyper-fixation stick. If I became annoying, I’m sorry.

How does everyone react/feel about JD being a hitman and him being so different from the brother they knew

And how does JD feel about himself being so different

I am sorry for taking a while to get to this but man I am so devastated by this question - especially the last part. And I wanna do right by it so I’ve been thinkin about it really hard.

I’m putting it under the read more, not just cause it got long, but it also got kinda,,, sad haha.

I’m thinkin they all have that initial reaction of “You’re a WHAT” ofc but it’s what comes directly before and after that that i really wanna nail down right.

Honestly I don’t even know which brother to start with 😭,,

I guess Floyd.

He’s shocked, of course, when he sees JD for the first time. Why’s he covered in so many scars? What could’ve possibly happened to him?

Why does Floyd feel like he’s seen him like this before

The main thing is trying to speak with him beyond just hellos. JD always seems to find some excuse to run off when Floyd’s involved.

It’s almost like he has to treat his oldest brother like a scared animal that’ll flee if he moves too quickly.

Floyd doesn’t know how he feels about that.

Once he finds out about it, he’s horrified. Both of and for John Dory. They’ve all been through so much, but this feels like something else entirely. He can see how affected he is and he’s devastated.

—

Next up is Clay.

He’d be the most,, angry,, about it all I think.

When he first sees John he’s quick to brush him off (like in canon) and that’s about the extent of it for a while. He honestly barely notices cause he’s too focused on his other brothers - especially Floyd.

It takes a long while for him to warm up to JD, and it doesn’t help that a lot of that bossiness JD had is still there. But he can tell he’s trying. Hell, they’re both trying. But Clay can’t help this feeling of unease that he gets around JD.

When he finds out,, god I can’t imagine anything but him getting furious and screaming at him. I feel like he’d storm off before even hearing JD out. He’d probably only be able to be calmed by one of his other brothers or Viva.

—

Bruce is mostly shocked at how quiet his older brother is. JD was a lot of things, but quiet was never one of them.

Honestly, much like Clay, a lot of things fly over Bruce’s head cause JD tends to just,, fade into the background when they’re all together.

And, y’know, it’s not easy to talk it out when he deflects and runs away from anything that gets anywhere close to what he got up to the past 20 years.

Bruce doesn’t want to pry, but he’s worried. The man before him is so unlike his older brother and it makes him nervous.

Once he finds out he’s devastated for his brother. Especially once JD explains the situation with the boss. And though it sounds kind of awful, Bruce can’t help but feel happy when JD finally cracks and explains it all to them, cause that’s the most like himself he’s seemed in a long time.

—

Branch is a bit of a tough one. Especially since she finds out well before the others,, what with JD being hired to target Poppy and all.

She’s furious when he first shows up, and even more so when she finds out who he is. Cause how could he do this? How could he leave her for twenty years only to come back and threaten to take away the one person she cared for most?

But, she needs him to help save Floyd, so she buries it and moves on. Still never letting herself be comfortable around him.

During the journey she finds herself noticing little things about John Dory. The way he carries himself, the way he tends to get lost in his thoughts. How he always seemed to be on guard.

She can’t help but feel a twinge of,, something.

He seems so much like she did back before she got her colors back.

She really doesn’t know how to feel about that.

When the truth comes out she’s horrified, but she can’t find it in her to blame JD too much. Not with how he describes the boss.

—

Overall, they’re just,, worried about him.

As for the target of all their worries? How does he feel about it all? Honestly, it’s pretty simple.

John Dory hates himself.

He hates every single thing about himself.

He tore his family apart, and almost like that wasn’t enough he just had to tear everyone else’s families apart too.

That’s the worst part, he thinks.

Every target, every hit, every kill. They had families. And all because of John’s mistakes, those families are ripped to shreds.

He can’t even stand to look at his own reflection cause every part of him just serves to remind him of everything he’s done.

Sometimes, especially after fleeing his boss and saving Floyd, he considers running again.

He considers just,, leaving and going back to the Neverglades and just letting the beasts tear him to pieces. At least like that he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

—

But yeah. That’s the gist of it :]

It’s a rough situation but I like to think they manage to navigate it.

Eventually,,

#zesty posts #hitman!john dory #trolls band together #john dory #bruce #clay #branch #floyd #i love them all so much actually

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