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#they could never make me hate you sunday

fandomrose · 1 month

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Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you."

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him.

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree.

"Please do."

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation.

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up.

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far.

"Beloved, lift your arms."

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned.

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes."

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it.

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you."

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide."

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and,

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?"

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we."

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him.

"Beloved, lay down."

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times.

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind.

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

#hsr x reader #hsr sunday #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #i needed fluffy hypnosis so i wrote it myself yay #i headcanon him as someone who would excessively use pet names because he finds them cute #and a sense of ownership but shush #but hes really just a tired dude whose life is spiralling out of control and i just want to hug him and stroke his wings #maybe reverse comfort for him next #i have a Neuvillette amd a clive rosfield fic in the works #i want to write for Aventurine but im a bit scared #also ratio #i love him more than i did when he was introduced thanks 2.1 #anyway excited for patch 2.2 Sunday. wanna see him go even crazier but also see him nice and relaxed you know?#the duality of man #this isnt my best work ever but im happy ish with it and just want to get it out.#if you do have constructive criticism thats fine please and thank you #they could never make me hate you sunday #i love him even more after 2.2

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finisnihil · 19 days

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2.2 Sunday analysis spoilers ahead

I think a scene that perfectly sums up the Dreammaster and his relationship with Sunday is the one where he’s breaking the news to Sunday that Robin was shot.

Sunday has just appointed head of the Oak Family, given a position of upmost power. The Dreammaster leads in by giving Sunday Robin’s letter and then he innocently asks if she mentioned a stray bullet. A stray bullet? Why would she mention a stray bullet? Robin is safe and happy, wherever could she run into a stray bullet?

Well, a war broke out on that planet she sought it out because of it. For the sake of the Harmony and saving lives… she went to the front lines. You know, where stray bullets tend to shoot down innocent birds?

Well, holy shit, is she okay? Of course I mean it only struck her neck directly but I guess because she is doing such glorious deeds Xipe saw fit let her sing a while longer still. You should write to her- oh no, you stupid boy, only after you finish your pressing work now that you're head, hm?

Let's break down the interaction, shall we?

Firstly, this show was meant to sever Sunday's trust in Robin and isolate him. Robin is the person Sunday cares about the most, his life is but a tool to maintain her happiness and he's not quiet about the fact he'd chose Robin over the Family. When Robin didn't want to sing for Ena in the final plan, Sunday betrays the Dreammaster by taking her place as the sacrificial lamb instead. Point being, Robin is Sunday's only real support system and his only access to something that hasn't been rotted by the Family's corruption. The Dreammaster starts the conversation by highlighting how Robin withholds information from Sunday. She didn't mention getting shot, she didn't mention going to a planet because of war, she didn't mention anything. She isn't telling Sunday when she's in danger. Sunday is already terrified of the world around him, of how bleeding hearts like his sister's and his suffer for their kindness. The Dreammaster going about things this way instills a layer of distrust, Sunday can't trust Robin to be honest with him, he can't trust Robin to be safe, he can’t trust her to trust him. Thus, Robin is taken out of the equation and Sunday is alone with only the Dreammaster in his ear.

Next, we drill in a blame of the Harmony. Robin serves the Harmony like a good child of Xipe but it's precisely that which put her in harm's way. Would she have gone into that situation if not for the ideals of the Harmony? The Dreammaster twists this logic in Sunday's head, whispering it was the Harmony that got his sister shot and mockingly noting that maybe the only reason Robin wasn't dead from it was because she served Xipe so well; he implies that if she failed to meet that nonexistent standard next time, maybe Xipe will let Robin die. Sunday can't trust Xipe to protect Robin because it was Xipe's will that almost killed her. Now he's more vulnerable for the ideals of Order to sing their claws in.

Finally, Sunday's lack of control is emphasized. Sunday has just been appointed Oak Family Head but he still has no control over anything. He can't act out of line because those who supported him may stop and if he fails to uphold the pristine image of the Family there will be hell to pay. Still, I think the most sinister thing about his lack of control is seen when the Dreammaster stresses that Sunday can only write back to Robin after he has finished his "outstanding tasks". He was just coldly told the person he cares most about in the world was almost killed without her deigning to inform him, and he can't even talk about it with her and make sure she's okay until he does his paperwork. The position of Family head is nothing but a formality and it isn't enough to save Robin, it isn't enough to save anyone. Sunday has never been in control so maybe... He should create a world where he has it through Order.

In the credits we see the Dreammaster refered to as "Sunday's Servant" but it's obvious the Dreammaster was the one who manipulated and pushed Sunday to this point, intensifying his trauma and pushing Robin out so he could be the only whisper in Sunday's ear, so he could warp Sunday to be the vessel of Order he wants from him.

This entire scene would have gone so much differently if the Dreammaster actually cared about Sunday but we can tell he doesn't. From the start Sunday has been a bleeding heart that bleeds more heavily every time he tries to alleviate suffering. He's trapped in the cage of Penacony and has come to think the buildup of broken dreams and pain he's exposed to is the way of the entire universe. Robin escaped but Sunday can't.

Sunday is ultimately responsible for everything he did but you can't ignore that the path he took to get here reeks of the Dreammaster's malicious influence. Gallagher notes Sunday is just like Misha in a lot of ways and I think that's why the Dreammaster honed in on him so intensely. Sunday had the potential to ruin everything if he took the path Robin and Misha did so he had to have his wings clipped and taught to think a cage means love, that Order is the way, not Harmony.

It's genuinely such a good sequence, the tension of it all makes it work so well. The fact that Sunday is haunted by it and that the Dreammaster so successfully got into his head without him really noticing. He basically did what Aventurine bragged about doing, exploiting Robin's suffering to hit Sunday where he's soft. The Dreammaster functionally set up a bomb and coaxed Sunday into being the one to set it off.

Sunday is a wonderfully written antagonist, but the Dreammaster is a wonderfully written villain.

#honkai star rail #finis analyzes #Sunday HSR #HSR Sunday #He makes me insane #I feel like not enough people are mentioning the Dreammaster and his part in the background #Like that man gave me the ick every single time he was around Sunday and Robin #I wanted so back to chuck that Raven into a wall whenever I saw it #Which is saying something because ravens are my favorite birds #THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU SUNDAY

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nov5aftermath · 5 months

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Just watched the Christmas special with my family and they hated it 😭😭😭

#they could never make me hate you #doctor who #15th doctor #ruby sunday

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vaspider · 2 years

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Pete Buttigieg is just a faggot.

It's very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you're trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you're why the cishets don't accept us or including [aces/bi people with the 'wrong kind' of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can't you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? -- to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag.

On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids -- late teens, early 20s -- asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled -- or didn't handle -- the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the "women don't get AIDS, they just die from it" poster. And so on.

I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, "they didn't care until it started infecting more than just the fags." I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, "remember when they called it 'gay cancer?'"

That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag.

Never.

These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can't have it and they'll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They'll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it.

And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much.

Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do.

You couldn't create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups.

But Pete Buttigieg? Is just a fag.

That's the part you don't seem to get: when they abandoned us, they abandoned all of us. Rock Hudson was a beloved movie star and even personally friendly with that horrid pair of ambitious jackals. Nancy Reagan refused to help him get into the only place in the world that could treat him at the time, and he died.

It was 1985, 4 years after the CDC first released papers on what would eventually become known as HIV/AIDS and 7 years after the first known death from an infection from HIV-2. Reagan hadn't even said the word AIDS by the time Hudson died.

Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, and so am I. Unless I'm a dyke, which seems to depend on who's yelling what from which window and what day it is.

Yes, there will be people who genuinely love and accept you. Those people are worth all the frustration of the rest, thankfully, and they're the ones who love you in a pup mask or a leather harness and a neon jock like the ones sold by the men up the row from us last weekend. They're the ones who laugh out loud when you tell them you hid the word "dyke" in your company name, the ones who love you in all your messiness and uncertainty and the way you don't fit into neat boxes all scrubbed up and clean.

Most cishets, though... well, they don't actively mean you specifically any harm, at least not when they have to look at you. Not when you're right there in front of them. Maybe they'll be okay with you, personally, especially if you're the kind of gay who makes a good rhetorical device, and as long as you remain a good rhetorical device.

They need people to know that they don't have a problem with the gays, after all, and there you are, being all convenient. You make a nice token, and as long as you do, well. You're useful.

But they call you by your deadname when you're not around, and they put the wrong pronouns in your medical record even though they met you years after you came out, and they won't put themselves out to save you. Not one little bit.

I didn't want to be here again. The year I graduated from high school was the worst year of the AIDS crisis. The world into which I became an adult was a world in which an advisor and friend to Reagan, William F. Buckley, openly advocated for forcibly tattooing the HIV status of HIV+ gay men on their buttocks (and IV drug users on their forearms), and in which my father not only told me that when I was 14 or so, but when was told me that he'd advocated for that tattoo being "over their assholes."

(Buckley wrote that in '86, but he doubled down on it in 2005.

Fucker.)

But yeah. I didn't want to be here again. I wanted my daughter to inherit a better world. I wanted Obergefell and Lawrence v. Texas and Hope & Change to really mean something. I work for it, today and all days. I haven't given up.

I need you to know that, too. This isn't a white flag. I'm not surrendering. This isn't over. To misquote Henry Rollins, this is what Marsha and Sylvia and Stormé and Leslie and Brenda and Auntie Sugar trained us for. This is punk rock time.

But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them -- and he's not -- then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can't trim ourselves down to something they'll accept.

The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we're here, we're queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It's revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don't challenge them too much, or it's conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we've got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning.

That's it. Either it's all of us or it's none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don't agree with it but we'll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.

The brunch gays can come, too, I guess.

#long post #uncensored slurs #slurs #homophobic slurs #ronald reagan's grave is a gender neutral toilet #lgbtq #queer #trans #transgender #fag #dyke #lgbt

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lizzobetumblin · 2 months

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Melissa hated her feelings.

She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings.

“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name,

‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list:

1.) Don’t cry.

2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate

3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you

She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking,

‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.

‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion.

‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,

“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”

Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry.

9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow.

It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.

Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong.

When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that.

When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.

When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again.

She carried that.

Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:

‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her.

‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’

She cried.

She escalated.

She took it personal.

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music.

‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose.

The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too.

Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow.

So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks.

Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified.

And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power.

Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her.

And she finally loved them back.

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edwardslvrr · 1 month

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username BRAVO CARLOS 👏

landonorris gonna go get my appendix removed

liked by carlossainz55

౨ৎ yourinstagram posted on their stories

view by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55 and 2.118 others

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yourbestfriend so happy for Matteo! send me loads of photos

yourinstagram will do for sure!!!! 🤍

carlossainz55 can’t wait to meet Matteo, hope to catch you two later today! enjoy the race

yourinstagram thank you so much, I’ve never seen him happier.

carlossainz55 preparing him for the future ;)

౨ৎ cxrlxndo twitter

౨ৎ yourinstagram suzuka international circuit

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yourinstagram Matteo met his idol today, we had the best experience ever. Congratulations on your P3 carlossainz55 and thank you so much for inviting us and making Matteo the happiest boy on the planet.

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username so adorable omg

yourbestfriend his dream came true, so happy for him!!!

yourinstagram just sent you bunch of photos and videos!!🥹🤍

username this is the best thing i’ve ever seen

username matteo’s taking Carlos’ seat next year

carlossainz55 so amazing to meet you both, thank you for coming ❤️

yourinstagram i think we’re suppose to thank you here!

username omggg!!!!

username why do i kinda ship?

username matteo’s the luckiest kid ever

username scuderiaferrari hire this kid

౨ৎ messages lando/carlos

౨ৎ messages carlos/yourname

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username omg a date with carlos?

yourbestfriend matteo says goodnight, and to say hi to carlos😅

yourinstagram ah i already miss him so much, tell him Carlos says hi back!!

yourbestfriend putting him in bed rn, enjoy the rest of your evening babe! 🤍

username the view looks so good

username that’s looks amazing wow

౨ৎ f1wagscontent twitter

౨ৎ yourinstagram no location

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yourinstagram when i was first met with the fact i’d be a single mum i was scared and not ready for it, I thought I’d be the worst mum ever but then Matteo came into the world and he became the light of my life. I set an entire part of my life aside for him, and I’ve never regretted that decision for a second. I never expected to love someone new again after everything that happened, I wanted to raise my son alone. Never thought I’d fall in love again, and you made it possible for me to do that on my own time. thank you for loving Matteo and me the way you do.

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username never expected i’d cry bcs of a hard launch.

yourbestfriend matteo is so lucky to have you, remember that!! he’s definitely so thankful for everything you did for him

yourinstagram iloveyou, thank you for being his second mum whenever needed🤍

yourbestfriend always will be here for both of you!

username the first picture omg🥹

username goodbye i can’t do this today

carlossainz55 oh honey, you’re making me tear up here. So thankful for you and Matteo, love you both! will be your biggest supporter through everything, Matteo is lucky with a mum like you❤️

yourinstagram we love you loads! 🫶🏼

username matteo will be ferrari’s next world champion‼️

scuderiaferrari holding open that seat for 2037!

username please do! matteo yln you will be world champion in 2037

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username GOOD LUCKKK

username our world champion!

charles_leclerc good luck to matteo❤️

yourinstagram he says thank you!!

yourbestfriend can’t wait to see my little man win!🏎️🤍‼️

yourinstagram carlos is already fixing the kart for the 6th time😭

yourbestfriend of course he is, no suprise there

yourinstagram it’s adorable to see how stressed he is, matteo is reassuring him.. think it’s supposed to be the other way around haahah

౨ৎ f1wagscontent twitter

taglist - @louvrepool @italyrryx @buendiabebeta @janeholt3 @lightdragonrayne @namgification @aquangxl @sammyam @americanbluebirdrb @poppyflower-22 @c-losur3 @nxrrislando @haikyuen @evie-119 @raevyng @urfavsgf

#formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 #ferrari #carlos sainz #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz masterlist #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz imagine

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youneedsomeprompts · 6 months

Text

~ FORBIDDEN LOVE ~ PROMPTS about showing love without confessing

requested by: anonymous request: forbidden love prompts? where you can never say explicitly what you want for fear of being rejected or caught

Feel free to use and reblog!

always making sure the other is safe

being happy when someone else is doing something nice for the other because it would be suspicious if they were the only one constantly showering the other with affection

making an effort to tease them regularly because in no way could that be suspicious

"You look very... alright, I guess."

trying to keep their distance because they can't trust themselves not to confess their feelings

"Really? You thought about me? I... I thought about you, too."

"Nooo, I would never date a friend/enemy. Of course, there are no exceptions." *blushes heavily*

trying to tell themselves that there are no romantic feelings involved

A: "Would you like to hang out on Sunday?" B: "Sure! It's a date!" A: "What? Like a 'date' date?" B: "What?" A: "What?"

A: "Don't be upset! Don't listen to them! You're the most special person!" B: "You really think that? You think I'm special?" A: *blushes heavily*

A: "I love spending time with you. That doesn't mean I have a crush on you." B: "Good. I never thought that."

testing the waters by casually dropping how romantic some of the things are the other does

A: "My dream partner would have to have [this trait] and [that trait]." B: "Haha. This sounds just like me! I would be your perfect partner. Isn't that funny?"

being torn between wanting to get rid of their feelings for the other and wanting to nurture the feelings in a hopeless, masochistic way

"I think we met for a reason."

C: "You never shut up about B." A: "That's because they annoy me so much."

being extremely happy when the other seeks their company

trying to act cool and casual but getting more awkward and nervous in the course

B: "You don't need to pretend that you like me. I know you hate me." A: "I'm sorry, what? I don't hate you. Quite contrary!"

making up endless scenarios about how they would confess their love, knowing they'll never do it anyway

#forbidden love prompts #forbidden crush prompts #secret crush prompts #writing prompts #prompt list #prompts #fanfic prompts #otp prompts #otp #writing ideas #writing inspiration #writers on tumblr #writeblr #dialogue prompts #setting prompts #20 prompts

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ataliagold · 12 days

Text

you told me once that i'm selfish (and i kissed you hard, in the dark)

For @astrangersummer week 4 prompt 'outside'. Title from Letter to an Old Poet by boygenius.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: General

W/C: 1430

Tags: Established Steddie, minor angst, fluff, hand-holding, Steve just wants to go hiking but Eddie's not keen on the idea, until he is, despite a minor argument these boys are so soft for each other, slightly selfish Eddie but he apologizes, Eddie gets a cool stick

Summary: Steve is used to spending time doing what Eddie wants to do. On a hot summer afternoon, the tables are turned when Steve asks Eddie to go hiking with him and Eddie is...not so thrilled about it.

___

“A hike?”

“Yup.”

“You want to go…hiking?”

“Uh huh.”

“You want me to go hiking with you?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“…I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, we could do…something else. Go to the arcade! Catch a movie, get drunk by your pool…I can come up with many alternatives to hiking, big boy.”

“I want to go, it’s one I used to do often years ago. It’ll be fun, just try it. It’s summer, we should get outdoors, enjoy the sun.”

“I’m not really an outdoors kinda guy, Steve. I thought you knew that by now.”

Steve’s shoulders had slumped a little at that. He’d watched as Eddie screwed up his nose at Steve’s suggestion, as he shook his head vehemently, as he rolled his eyes a little at Steve’s insistence that it would be a nice way to spend their Sunday.

Eddie didn’t want to go. That was ok; Steve wouldn’t make him. It had been stupid to even ask him in the first place, he supposed – Eddie was right, it really wasn’t his sort of thing.

Except…Steve had spent long evenings watching Eddie and the kids playing their campaigns, had listened as best he could as Eddie rattled off ideas and suggestions to him for the next D&D session, had sat through the frankly terrible horror movies that Eddie was rapt with, always let him play his music in the car, shrugged it off good-naturedly when Eddie complained about his taste in music…

Steve been hoping maybe Eddie would try something that he enjoyed, just for a day.

He knew Eddie hated sport and practically any form of intentional exercise; hell, his boyfriend reminded him of that frequently, grumbling when Steve and Wayne were glued to a game on TV or when Steve was busy shooting hoops with Lucas. Usually, Steve didn’t care – he knew they had different interests, loved Eddie enough that it didn’t matter.

But sometimes, Eddie’s jibes about him being a jock or a philistine or uncultured just…stung a little, especially considering Steve never bit back with his own insults, had left those days long behind him.

“Yeah, ok,” Steve mumbled eventually. “I’ll just…I’ll ask Lucas or something.”

Eddie shook his head. “He’s at Mike’s this weekend.”

“Oh. Well…never mind, then.”

Eddie sat up, grabbing for Steve’s hand. Steve let him take it, but with little enthusiasm.

“We can do something else, though,” Eddie said brightly. “Wanna rent a couple of movies, get high? I’ve still got some of Argyle’s stuff left, we could…Steve?”

Steve’s hand had gone weak in Eddie’s, his gaze drifting downwards. “Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie shuffled closer, tilted his head to try and catch Steve’s eye. “Steeeeevie,” he hummed.

“What?” Steve said, snapping a little.

Eddie recoiled slightly. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Steve snatched his hand back, pushing off Eddie’s couch to stand up. “Nothing, it’s fine. I’m gonna go for this hike, I’ll see you later.”

Eddie frowned, hopping up to block Steve’s path. “On your own?” he questioned.

“Well, you clearly don’t want to go, so…”

Eddie’s face softened. “Steve -”

“No, it’s fine. You hate the outdoors, you hate exercise, you hate…” Steve trailed off.

Eddie reached out, traced a hand across Steve’s cheek. “What, sweetheart?”

Steve sucked in a breath. “You hate everything I like,” he mumbled, not meeting Eddie’s eye.

Eddie’s eyes widened, realization crossing his face. “Stevie…I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted to go so badly. Let me just…I’ll get changed, and we’ll go, ok?”

“No, you don’t want to.”

“I do.”

Steve scoffed. “You don’t.”

Eddie nodded slightly, chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “I didn’t want to,” he admitted eventually. “But…you do things you don’t want to do for me all the time, and I know I’m not…as good at doing that as you are. So, the afternoon is yours. You want to hike? We’ll hike. I can’t promise I won’t pass out halfway, but I’ll be there.”

Steve gave him a long look. “You’re sure? And you won’t complain?”

“Well…maybe a little.”

Steve rolled his eyes, waving a hand in frustration.

“Ok!” Eddie back-peddled. “Ok, I won’t. Just…I have one request.”

“What?”

“I want to carry a cool stick.”

*****

Eddie got his stick.

Steve led them on the wooded path that branched off from Lover’s Lake, that looped its way slowly up a hill to a lookout spot over the forest. Eddie traipsed along behind him, swatting at invisible orcs with his stick, occasionally skipping off to one side to pick up and present Steve with various stones and small rocks he found along the way, the ones he deemed pretty enough to gift to him.

Halfway up, despite sweating and breathing a little harder than he should be, (smoker’s lungs, he’d given Steve as an excuse) Eddie seemed to putting in a lot of effort for Steve.

“This is…kinda cool,” he admitted.

“Really?” Steve raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

Eddie nodded, whacked at a bush with his stick and grinned. “Yeah. At least it’s shady here too, it’s not so fucking hot.”

Steve smiled. “Told ya. Wait till we get to the top, too. I think you’ll like the view.”

“About that…how much steeper does it get?”

A short time later, and only one little moan from Eddie about the hill, and they broke through the trees and onto a rocky outcrop with a little bench seat. The trees sprawled out below them, shades of brown and burnt orange, Hawkins nestled off to one side.

“Wow,” Eddie breathed, bent over next to Steve with his hands on his knees as he got his breath back.

Steve, not puffed in the least, nodded in agreement. “It’s nice, huh?”

“It’s like…Lothlorien.”

“…sure,” Steve offered, having no idea what his boyfriend was talking about.

Eddie slumped down on the bench seat, fingers tracing over the initials carved everywhere into the old wood.

“You on here, Stevie?” he asked.

Steve nodded, dropping to his knees and searching the edge of the seat for a moment. There, etched permanently into the wood, were the weathered initials S.H.

“Here,” he said.

Eddie smiled, touched his fingers to the marks. Quietly, he scratched his own into the wood with a sharp stick, right next to Steve’s initials.

“Looks good,” Steve observed.

Eddie looked up at him, took his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For…not taking enough interest in the things you like.”

Steve sighed, sat down beside him. “You don’t have to, Eds. I know you don’t like a lot of the things I do, it’s -”

“Don’t say it’s ok,” Eddie interrupted, holding his hand tighter. “I mean, maybe I don’t like sport and stuff. But you don’t like D&D, and I know you hate horror movies, but you don’t complain about it, and you always come along even if you don’t enjoy something.”

“I…I like spending time with you,” Steve said quietly.

“I know, and I love you for it.” Eddie’s free hand gripped the edge of the seat. “And…and I like spending time with you too, and I want to be able to do some things that you enjoy too, it’s only fair.”

“Well…did you enjoy this?” Steve asked, almost shyly.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, actually. Nearly had a heart attack near the top there, but aside from that…” he grinned as he pulled a small laugh from Steve. “I’d like to go again. Wherever you want to go, I’ll be there.”

“I’d like that, Eds.”

“Good.” Eddie dug around in his pocket for a moment, producing a smooth black stone and plopping it into Steve’s hand. “For you,” he said, smiling when Steve turned it over in his fingers.

“It’s cool, Eds. Thanks.”

Eddie’s smile was wider than the sun.

He leant in, kissed Steve long and slow under the fading July sun.

By the time they reached the car again, Steve’s pockets were laden with little stones that had caught Eddie’s eye along the path. Despite them weighing down his shorts, he couldn’t bear to toss any of them away – he’d find somewhere to put them in their room.

As Steve started the beamer, he was surprised to see Eddie eject the Metallica tape in the player and replace it with Steve’s well-loved Tears for Fears one.

He threw a surprised look at Eddie, who shrugged in return.

“It’s well overdue for your turn, sweetheart,” he murmured softly.

As the familiar notes of Head Over Heels spilled over them, Steve reached for Eddie’s hand.

He didn’t let go the whole way home.

___

#a stranger summer #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #fluff

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mischiefmanagers · 2 months

Text

Rhysand Fic Rec Library 🦇💜

"Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord. Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord. Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord."

here's a list of one hundred Rhysand x Reader and Rhysand x OC fics to celebrate the most handsome High Lord ✨

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @sarawritestories

The Most Beautiful High Lady 🥀💞

You Looked Like You Could Use a Partner 💞

by @lalacliffthorne

starshine (series) 🥀💞

by @marvelsmylife

Not As It Seems 🥀💞

Protecting his high lady 🥀💞

I think I wanna marry you 💞

by @swansworth

The Handsome Stranger 🥀💞

My High Lady 🔥

by @writingsbychlo

how we survive 🥀 platonic Rhysand x Reader but it's AMAZING

Home To Us 💞🌼

How to Save a Life 💞

by @azrielsdove

The High Lords 🥀🔥

Til Death Do Us Part 🥀🔥

Money, Power, Glory 🥀

Beautiful Girl 🥀💞

by @historiaxvanserra

What Our Souls Are Made Of 🥀💞

by @honeybeefae

Pretty Little Tears 🔥

by @wishfulwithwine

The Great War 🥀

by @leafsandstarlight

Against Your Brother's Wishes 🥀💞

Easy Like Sunday Morning 💞🔥

Welcome Distraction 🔥

Little Reminders 💞

by @cherhys

Anything, Always 🥀💞

Colliding Visions 💞

by @k-daydreams

Touch in the Dark 🥀

by @azsazz

Dioxazine 💞

Lavender Haze

Hung Up 🔥

by @jeannineee

Pining 🥀

Daddy Kink 🔥

by @ughthatimagineblog

love and loathing 💞🔥

forever and a day 💞

by @fieldofdaisiies

I Never Mean to Hurt You 🥀

by @daydreaming-nerd

The Bonds That Break Us 💞🥀🔥

by @hellcat8908

Returning Home 🥀💞

by @thehighladywrites

This Isn't Goodbye, This Is Simply See You Later 💞🥀🔥

Just One More, I Know You Can Do It 💞🔥

by @lure-of-writing

Where my soul can rest 🥀

by @saphirered

The Ice Queen and the High Lord 🔥

May We Meet Again

by @bookish-whore

'Til Death 💞

Never Made A Difference 🥀

by @tadpolesonalgae

mine 🔥

Knocked up 🔥

by @itsphoenix0724

Promises 🥀

by @fanttasttica

I hate you more.. 🥀

Shy priestess 💞

Finding you 🔥

Your love healed me 🥀💞

Just love me 🥀

One plus one makes three 💞

by @illyrian-dreamer

Dance with the devil

Make a bargain with me 💞🥀

by @azrielbrainrot

My Body Keeps Saying it's Yours 🔥

by @b00kdiary

Dreamer

by @solbaby7

Lose Control 💞

Put On A Show 🔥

Testing the Waters 💞🔥🌼

by @luxsky

Kicking out 💞

by @themusingsofacurlyhairednerd

Warm Me Up 💞🔥

Datura

by @starstruckunknown-princess

Black Rose 🥀

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Needs Must 🔥

With Me, Always 🥀💞

Shrinking Violet 🔥

Forget Me Not 💞

by @lanitalay

At sea 💞🥀

by @redheadspark

Truth 💞🥀

Carry 💞🥀

My Pleasure 💞

Title 💞

by @azrielslightintheshadows

Game night disaster 🥀

Between you and danger 🥀

by @danikamariewrites

Take Them All Down 🥀🌼

Only For You 💞

Pointless Meetings 💞

Pranks 💞

by @bloodycassian

winter court runaway

by @thevanserrras

The Stolen Night 🥀💞

by @thelov3lybookworm

Winter Without You 🥀

Love Needs No Voice

by @prythianpages

Wanna Be Yours 💞

by @milswrites

Out of the Mountain 🥀

by @readychilledwine

Requiem for a Dream (series) 🥀💞

Broken 🥀

Flight Patterns 🥀💞🌼

Subtle 💞

Scream 🔥

Plot Measure 🥀

Drumming Song 🔥

Family Matters 🔥

Pieces of You 🥀🌼

by @clairebear08

Questioning Motives 🔥

by @serpentandlily

Falling Apart for You 🥀

by @shadowdaddies

Heavy is the Head 🥀💞🔥

Crawl to Me 🥀🔥

by @throneofsapphics

if you insist 💞

surprise reunions 🔥

by @azriels-shadowsinger

Reunited 💞🥀

by batboylover

secretly mated 🥀💞

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explicit-tae · 6 months

Text

Ungodly Hour: Day 3

You’re feeling petty, so sending Jungkook nudes is how you get your revenge on him for leaving you.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.212

Warning: jungkook getting clowned, face riding, oral sex, smut, simp jungkook, dirty talking, ass slapping, shit talking reader bs that's what she does, slight sexting

You ponder what life would be like if you lived with Jungkook - the weekend is long and waking up besides the man felt nice. He cooked breakfast after allowing you to sleep in, you two eating together. You’d shower, spend the day together (sex came randomly in between) and then go to bed.

Work was a task you’d dreaded, but you’d refuse to give up so quickly, even when Jungkook agreed to your joke of quitting, stating that you could always live off of him - an agreement the man was too quick to settle for.

Even after your boring, easy job, you acted as if it was the worst day of your life. Jungkook had bought takeout to make up for it and you were content for a while.

And now, you and Jungkook are in his bathroom, you attempting to concentrate on your task. You were dressed in nothing but a black silk robe - a gift from Jungkook - the both of you fresh out of the shower. He has a match one that he tied loosely around himself.

“Is it supposed to burn?” Jungkook asks, opening one eye to look at you. He sits on his closed toilet, you directly in front of him.

“If you ask me that one more time, Jungkook, I swear-”

“You want me to fuck you so bad, Y/N.” Jungkook closes his eyes, his hands reaching out for your waist to bring you close to him.

You groan, squirming out of his reach. “We’re doing face masks.” you deadpan, your mind not comprehending how the man could be thinking about sex at a time like this. “Nothing about this is sexy, Kook.”

Jungkook scoffs - he begs to differ. There was never a moment Jungkook didn’t want you - but he was a man and maybe that was just the way his body reacts around you. He’d remain quiet, however, to make you any more irritated with him. Your irritation only fueled his sexual desire.

“‘Kay, done.” you lean back to admire your work on Jungkook’s face. Now the both of you matched - both sporting a cream colored face mask. “Our skins going to be so smooth when we’re done!” you squeal, and for a moment you’re excited - until you see the smile on Jungkook’s lips. “Ugh, didn’t mean to do that. Don’t think I like doing things like this with you.” you quickly scoff.

Jungkook cackles at your fraudulent change of tune. “You’re so down bad for me, Y/N.” Jungkook snatches your waist this time, bringing you closer to him. He then stands. “Give it a few more months, baby, and you’ll finally admit it outside of sex.”

“Fuck off.” you murmur, hands pushing Jungkook back - even if you didn’t put that much force into it because you actually did like his embrace.

Jungkook brings his face closer, the need to kiss you heavy. He doesn’t get the chance to, however, a loud banging noise sounding throughout his home. His eyebrows furrow. “Someone’s at the door.” he says aloud. “Be right back.”

You turn away from the man to clean up the mess you’ve made. As you turned on the water to clean the silicon brush, Jungkook takes it upon himself to slap your ass.

“Jung-” you swung around to snap, but Jungkook’s already out the door and down the hall, a loud trail of laughter echoing behind him.

Jungkook makes his way towards his front door, not caring about his appearance as he swings it open.

“Oop, jump scare.” Jimin walks past him, shoving three large pizzas in his arms. “Why do you never answer your phone?”

Jungkook is dumbfounded as Hoseok and Taehyung steps in, as well, and for a moment he thinks about what he’s going to say.

However, Jungkook remembers that it’s Sunday - and Sunday’s were movie nights. He swallows the lump in his throat.

He didn’t need Jimin knowing that you were here - not because Jimin hated you, it was quite the opposite. Jimin loved you (from afar) and your antics. He liked you and him together, stating that you made a good couple.

Jimin knowing that you were here meant that Jungkook forgot about the weekly movie night - and then he’d have to hear Jimin’s mouth about how “pussy was worth more than the friendship” as he liked to put it.

“I was, uh, showering.” Jungkook responds, closing the door behind Hoseok. “Where’s Joon?” he questions, as if he wasn’t the one who lost track of his days.

“Running late.” Jimin takes off his shoes and proceeds to go to the living room. “I wonder what’s new on the streaming services. Not like I’d know…” he trails off, side eyeing the younger male.

“You’ll have to get over that.” Hoseok snickers, taking his seat beside Jimin. “We all know Jungkook would find a girl that would take all his time.”

Jungkook laughs awkwardly, placing the boxes of pizza on the coffee table.

“Ah, yes.” Taehyung sits on one of the leather chairs, a boxy smirk on his lips. “So…did Y/N teach you any new tricks?”

“Or is barking all you do?” Jimin scoffs, then proceeds to go out in full laughter, followed by Hoseok and Taehyung.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. It was bad enough he had to hear it in the groupchat. This was a moment they’ll never let him live down.

“I just want to be a fly on the wall.” Hoseok shakes his head. “Y/N has to be doing something lethal to have you bark-”

“It was a joke.” Jungkook hisses. “Pick a movie while I take this off.” he murmurs, making his way down the hall and back towards the bathroom. Jungkook opens the door and eyes you, face mask already off. “So, we have a dilemma.” he mumbles, coming towards the sink.

“I heard Jimin.” your arms are crossed. “Is he talking shit again?”

“It’s Jimin.” Jungkook scoffs. He begins to wipe the face mask off of his skin, scrubbing aggressively. “I forgot tonight was movie night.”

“Movie night?” you furrow your brows. “But I thought you said we were continuing Law & Order?”

Jungkook sighs. He turns off the water and turns towards you. “I did,” he admits. “but we have movie nights every Sunday and…” he trails off.

“And…” you shake your head, not comprehending. Jungkook grabs a small hand towel and wipes his face “...you’re saying fuck Lieutenant Olivia Benson? Because you want to watch a lame ass movie?” you cross your arms, even if you couldn’t be upset about it. You just wanted a reason to give him shit.

Jungkook licks his lips and smirks. “You’re so jealous, baby. I knew you’d-”

“Ew. Go watch your lame movie with your lame friends.” you push him away, fighting the smile stretching on your lips when you feel his hands on your wrist. “I’ll be in the room, I guess.”

Jungkook pokes his head out the bathroom door to assure no one was looking. Then, he drags you towards his room and shuts the door. “I’ll sneak you some pizza.” he murmurs. He rushes towards his closet to change into clothes.

“I…I can’t come out?” you scoff in disbelief.

Jungkook shakes his head. “They’ve been cooking me in the groupchat and when they walked in. You walking out will only be my 13th reason.” Jungkook is dressed in under a minute, a black shirt and iron man pajama shorts. He comes towards you when he sees your wide eyed expression and wraps you in a sudden embrace, peppering your face with kisses. “I’ll let you sit on my face later.” he murmurs.

“You do that everyday.” you deadpan.

“Exactly.” Jungkook smiles. “So you’ll be okay for a few hours. I’ll try to kick them out after one movie, though.”

Again, Jungkook slaps your ass, but this time brings you in for a kiss. He’s out the door before you can say anything further. You eye his bedroom door for a moment and scoff with a shake of your head.

“Hyung, when did you get here?” Jungkook asks when he strolls through the living room to see Namjoon. “Did you find a movie yet?”

“Got here a minute ago.” Namjoon responds.

“Haven’t been on here in so long. Forgot how to work the app.” Jimin retorts.

“Eventually you’re going to have to get over it.” Jungkook makes his way towards the kitchen to grab a plate. He then walks back towards the livingroom to gather a few slices of pizza for you.

“Forget about the ultimate betrayal?” Jimin scoffs. “Never.”

“Where are you going?” Taehyung asks, eyeing Jungkook.

“I’m just saving myself some pizza.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Might be hungry in the middle of the night.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond.

Jungkook makes his way down the hall and back towards his room. “Special delivery.” he scurries in to drop the plate on his bedside table. “I can’t wait for you to sit on my face later.”

“Don’t think you getting any pussy after keeping me in this room.” you retort, not removing your eyes from the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “We’ll see about that.” He doesn’t have time for a petty argument, because that would only turn it to him fucking you into the mattress - and now, he didn’t have time for that.

“Since when do you eat in your room?” Hoseok questions as Jungkook returns, a confused look on his face. “Since I got lazy.” Jungkook responds without a second thought, sitting next to Namjoon. “What are we watching?” Jungkook is barely able to focus on the movie. He eats a couple slices of pizza, his eyes watching the movie that his mind refuses to acknowledge. He would rather be with you watching Law & Order - he knows by now you two would be cuddling. You would rub your ass against him slightly, pretending to be occupied with the show and that would be his que to-

“You don’t look interested.”

Jungkook blinks a few times and then turns to Namjoon, the source of the voice.

“Just thinking.” Jungkook shrugs.

“About Y/N?”

Jungkook cracks his neck, only snorting.

“Jimin told me you were whipped. Didn’t tell me you couldn’t go a day without thinking about her.” Namjoon teases, his dimples deepening when he smirks.

“Are you two talking about Y/N?” Jimin crosses his arms. He’s laying against the arm of the couch, his eyes piercing at Jungkook.

“I sense one sided beef.” Taehyung calls.

“Because of her,” Jimin starts, and Namjoon groans, having heard this rant time and time again. “I was removed from all the streaming services. Not just one - all.”

“I gave you several warnings.” Jungkook grumbles.

Hoseok snickers. “Like what?”

“I told him when Y/N usually watches her shows.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“You give her access to streaming services so she can watch True Crime.” Jimin deadpans, an unamused look on his face. “When you end up on one of those documentaries because she slipped something in your drink-”

Jungkook sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Can we watch the movie-”

“- and murdered you, Jungkook. I will be on there telling the audience that there was red flags.”

Jungkook’s phone vibrates in his lap. He unlocks it, your name popping up.

Y/N 🥰: does jimin want to fight me?

Jungkook smirks.

“When are you going to admit you like Y/N?” Jungkook asks as he responds to your text.

“And while we’re on the topic,” Taehyung pauses the movie. “how did you get her mother’s number?”

You were only curious in the conversation outside the bedroom once you began to hear speaking. You never turn down an episode of Law & Order, and thankfully you had. You were told by Jungkook that Jimin liked you - his words now say otherwise.

You were growing bored. The pizza was already gone and Jungkook didn’t bring you anything to drink.

But the most important thing was that you were bored - and feeling petty.

you: I miss you

You didn’t miss him - you were bored and that’s different.

You watch as Jungkook reads the text instantly and begins typing.

kookie 🍪: i miss you too 🥹😍😏

you: can’t tell

you: you’re shit talking me with your lame friends

kookie 🍪: never. I got jimin to admit that he likes you more than he admits 🤙🏻

kookie 🍪: are you hungry still?

You grunt. You couldn’t be petty with Jungkook if he was offering to feed you.

you: no

you: just bored…

You bite your lip as Jungkook types. You suddenly open the camera app and take a picture. It’s a simple picture, you smiling in the camera.

Jungkook swallows, his eyes zoning in on the picture of you. Your robe was opened slightly more and he has a peak at your breast.

“If it wasn’t for me he’d still be in the friend zone probably leasing cars for her attention.” Jimin retorts at Taehyung. Hoseok laughs at the comment.

kookie 🍪: you’re so beautiful ♥️

kookie 🍪: the robe is nice on you

kookie 🍪: i can buy you more if you’d like

You snicker at Jungkook’s response. The man didn’t know what to do now and his first option was to spend if it meant that you’d send him more pictures.

“I feel like I should be compensated for my hard work.” Jimin exclaims. “Who else can say they got Jungkook out of the friendzone?”

“They were fucking. Don’t think that’s just a friend zone.” Namjoon announces. “Raw at that.”

Y/N 😍: i seem to be the topic of conversation tonight

Y/N 😍: i wish you were as interested in me as your friends are 🤭

Jungkook glances up at his bickering friends for a moment before texting back.

kookie 🍪: im beginning to think i spoil you if you cant be without me for a few hours… 😌

You’re taken aback by the tone in the message. As if you needed him - you didn’t. You were just bored and feeling a little confrontational today.

Besides, Jungkook wasn’t going to have the last word.

“I still want to be a fly on the wall.” Hoseok adds. “Whatever she’s doing that has Jungkook worshiping the ground she walks on needs to be studied.”

“That or you’re just a pervert.” Taehyung shrugs.

Jungkook glances down at his phone and coughs. Eyes turn to him suddenly and Jungkook stands. “I-I’m not feeling…my stomach hurts.” he makes his way down the hall and goes to open his bedroom door.

You giggle when you hear the bedroom door twist.

You’ve locked it before sending Jungkook the picture. You were already naked, mind as well use it to your advantage.

kookie 🍪: oh

kookie: open the door

you: enjoy your movie night

You hear the door knob shuffle once more.

kookie 🍪: open the door

kookie 🍪: stop ignoring me baby

kookie 🍪: i can always break the door down

kookie 🍪 : then they’ll know you’re here

kookie 🍪: and hoseok already wants to be a fly on the wall

kookie 🍪: and i have no intentions of stopping once i have you on my tongue

You flung the door open with wide eyes. “Are you-”

Jungkook pushes you inside, closing the door behind him. “Just sit on my face.” he grumbles, hands pushing you backwards.

It doesn’t take long for your robe to be discarded on the ground. He takes in your naked sight and sighs with a shake of his head. “So needy.” he murmurs, laying down on his bed. “You missed me, huh? And it hasn’t even been a full movie length.”

“Did not.” you reject, pussy already in his face.

Jungkook clenches both of your legs. “Is that why you’re already wet?” his tongue licks your clit and hums. “It’s okay to admit you missed me, baby.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond, he’s already diving head first into your. He suckles and slurps loudly, his hands keeping you in place. This time, he doesn’t care if you preferred him to now watch - he does anyways. His eyes are intense on watching you be pleasured by him - the cute needy moans, the fucked out look on your face. He wanted to experience it all.

“Your friends are gonna know you’re gone.” you whimper as Jungkook laps his tongue slowly between your folds.

Jungkook leans back only slightly. “Do you want me to stop?” he questions.

You shake your head, and that’s all the convincing Jungkook needs. His right palm slapped your thigh. “Then I won’t. Now just ride my face until you cum.”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his excessive need to make you cum.

However, you do as you’re told. Your hips buckle against his tongue, your head falling back - mainly to avoid Jungkook’s gaze. It was his favorite part, he once told you, to watch you cum.

Jungkook’s tongue feels amazing - and it’s the same tongue. It shouldn’t feel better than the last time, but somehow it does. Maybe it’s the way his hands rub along your thighs as you ride along his tongue - or maybe it’s the way he grips your breast and pinch your nipples that are an added bonus.

Jungkook’s hands never stayed in one spot. They’re soon cupping your ass to encourage you to grind against him harder - how he never suffocates is beyond you.

“O-Oh, fuck.” Jungkook hears you hiss and he squeezes your ass even harder. His own breathing increases as he watches you - he can do this for as long as you wanted. You were so beautiful when you were aroused and cumming - it’s a sight he has engraved in his mind.

“I know you’re about to cum.” Jungkook says muffledly. His head bops back and forth, in rhythm with your grinding. He also knows how you enjoy the way he touches you, your ass being your favorite part. He probably will never know why girls enjoyed pain mixed with pleasure, but he was nothing but a man made to pleasure you.

So, Jungkook slaps your ass encouragingly, making sure to give it a good grip after each slap.

You needed to know what it was about Jungkook - and his tongue, fingers or cock - that has you cumming so harshly on his tongue like he wants you to; and even then he refuses to stop until you’re twitching.

Jungkook doesn’t allow you to fall back like you want to, his hands grasp your twitching form and assures that you’re placed on the bed.

Licking his lips, Jungkook smirks. “My pretty girl.” he says, kissing your forehead. “I’m going to continue my movie night, okay? Then I’m going to come back here and you’re going to sit on my face again.”

You nod your head lazily, not having it in you to argue.

“I knew you were so down bad for me, baby.” Jungkook teases. He places the blanket over your naked body. “One day, I won’t need to fuck it out of you for you to admit.”

“Fuck you.” you hiss when Jungkook is half-way out the door.

“Trust me. I will.” Jungkook chuckles, closing the door behind him, leaving you in a state of arousal and anticipation.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good dick, fingers, tongue and heart.

Series Masterlist

@suciedad-divina @satisfied18 @y2k5bby @petalsofink @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx @tasha-0795 @busanbby-jjk @joonlover1207 @hollowtree11 @amberpanda99 @parkinglot-nights @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @hoseokteardrop @jingerbreadoutofstock @subtaegguk

#bts smut #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #ungodly hour #explicit-tae #bts college au #jungkook college au #fake tweets #bts fake tweets #simp jk #tsundere reader

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pinkrelish · 1 year

Text

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬.

ex-con!linecook!eddie x fem!reader

✶Steve messed up. He assured you over and over again that you could have the spare bedroom in his apartment, but while you took your time mulling over his offer, someone else moved in: his down-and-out best friend who needed a place to stay. When you show up at Steve's door with little warning due to your job relocating you, he suggests you and Eddie share the bedroom. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Besides the fact Eddie hated you, and in turn, you hated Eddie.✶

NSFW — smut, masturbation, eddie watches porn, dry humping, cumming in pants, reader flashes her bra & wears a pencil skirt, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, there was only one bed(room)

↳ teaser oneshot | [wc: 9.3k] | series tba!

⋅line cook hc from @bewilderedbunny⋅

Steve was a nice guy. Really.

He was your pen pal since meeting at summer camp when you were both eight-years-old. He was sweet, and wrote you back within a week, without fail. He was your first kiss one sweltering afternoon on the dock over the lake; a quick peck when the counselors weren’t looking. He was one of your first contacts in your flip phone, and his picture occupied the first circle when you got a smartphone, after pestering him to meet up with you in Indianapolis, snapping the pic at a crosswalk; a day where your conversations spanned nothing and everything. What was there to talk about when you talked via pencil, pen, markers, emojis, and photos for years, and suddenly forgot the past decade when you encircled your arms around each other?

He was a nice guy throughout all of college. He’d text you during class. You’d text him from states away, falling asleep at your dormroom desk. He worked at his father’s business. You started as an unpaid intern collecting coffee orders, and pulling all-nighters doing spreadsheet grunt work your superiors didn’t deem worthy of their time.

Stevie 🌞: just quit your job and live with me!

Stevie 🌞: I still have that spare bedroom

Stevie 🌞: rent free

Year after year, you always declined. Climbing the ranks at your job was important to you; and one day it paid off. They were relocating you to the Chicago, and if you didn’t take their pitiful relocation package, you’d get a decent advance on your next paycheck (which was dire considering your salary was roughly the same, despite the ever increasing cost of living); and knowing Steve always had that spare furnished bedroom, and most of your belongings could fit into your car (as long as you didn’t need to see out the rear window), it seemed like a done deal.

Until you surprised him.

You: hey! can i move in w you? my jobs relocating me to chicago and i might already be two hours out. sorry i didn’t text sooner. i had to leave my apartment asap. fuck paying for the damage cindy’s doberman did to that place 😬

Stevie 🌞: Lets talk when you get here

Stevie 🌞: I’ll meet you for coffee

Let’s talk? Never a good sign, even when he was smiling at you from over his latte.

————

“My friend needed the spare room, but he’s a good guy, I swear,” he told you.

“He’s just a little rough around the edges,” he told you.

“He’s understanding; I’m sure you two will get along,” he told you.

“He can make space in the closet for your stuff, and one of you can sleep on the couch,” he told you. “Maybe you can alternate! Bed, couch. It's not like I’m charging him rent, so he should be cool with you living with us until you can afford to move out, or whatever. No big deal. I don’t really care when, you know that. No rush.”

Right. Just share the room.

You weren’t present for the conversation; Steve and Eddie were in the bedroom while you stood awkwardly in the living room, but the result of the exchange made quite the first impression.

“I dunno,” Steve’s voice carried, “maybe you could work something out like you get the room Monday through Wednesday, and she gets it Thursday through Saturday. Sunday’s up in the air?”

“Oh, just share the room like I used to, huh?” Eddie asked, alluding to the life he lived several months ago. “Finally got some privacy to breathe around here, and now you’ve invited some chick to live with us without telling me? Actually–no–you invited her to live here. In my room. No heads up.”

Steve’s wince was audible in his heavy sigh. “You work weird hours, you probably won’t even have to interact with her. C’mon, man. She’s been my friend since we were kids, and it’s just until she finds her own place. She’s cool. She’ll sleep on the couch, or whatever if it really bothers you; just like, let her keep her clothes and shit in here, and let her use the computer for work.”

“Whatever, man.”

“Eddie, wait!”

Thunderous footsteps and a seething, “Fuck this,” followed the heightened emotions, and before you could straighten your spine, you were introduced to your new roommate.

His pace faltered, not expecting you to be standing there. The fine wrinkles in the outer corner of his eyes pinched tighter, and his long hair flowed around a faded black snake tattoo on his throat, stretching across the strained tendons it was inked over, reaching the twitching muscle in his jaw from his clenched teeth. It took him a narrow-eyed glance to sum you and your pink luggage up, and place you firmly in the ‘I don’t like you’ category in his mind, and he continued his march.

“Hi! I’m–”

Your outstretched hand went ignored as he passed you.

He shoved on his boots, and slammed the front door behind him, rattling every piece of metal in the apartment. You stared at where he was just standing, vision marked with a black silhouette of the good guy you’d be sharing intimate space with for the next.. however long, and still with your hand out, you swiveled to Steve. “Yeah, he seems nice.”

————

Eddie Munson glared at your very existence. He wore a permanent crease between his brows when you were in his vicinity. Apprehension tensed his muscles when your soft gaze slid from Steve, to him. There was distaste in his frown. He rolled his eyes when you laughed too loud at the TV. His voice was vitriol, words clipped when he had to speak to you. His shoulders hiked to his ears when you entered the kitchen for a glass of water and caught him mid-chew on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich after he got home from work. When it was your turn to sleep in the bed, he made it a point to come home as loud as possible–yanking open the drawers on the dresser, waking the computer to blazing home screen, and leaving the light on when he went to shower across the hallway, pretending he didn’t hear you grumble at him to turn it off.

You wore a sleep mask to bed after that.

And when you slept on the couch, it was the only time he cooked for himself. Scraping pans across the burners, clinking silverware, gathering his hair off his neck and twisting it between his laced fingers, creating a cradle for him to drop his head back and sigh at the ceiling, just loud enough to stir you from your sleep.

You wore earplugs to bed after that.

Eddie Munson made it known you were not welcomed in his territory, and saw your accidental warm smile thrown vaguely in his direction as a threat to his well being.

But as much as he ensured misery every second you had the fortune of spending in his presence, you weren’t so innocent of terrorizing his every waking moment either..

Soon, Monday through Wednesday, and Thursday through Saturday, and a chance at a lazy Sunday were not enough.

————

When Steve was home, he acted as the mediator when it came to you two being at each other’s throats after another vicious stare-off. Currently, Eddie was standing with his arms crossed, leaned against the counter with his cheeks darkened to a fleshy red, and you were pacing the kitchen, wrapped in a bath towel, stating your case to Steve. You argued since most of the hair clogging the drain belonged to Eddie, he should be the one to clean it. And Steve, not knowing how to interpret Eddie’s steely focus on the fridge as if you didn’t exist, nor the fact a woman was dripping wet and yelling at him, he put his hands up in defense.

He edged away from your ire until he was at the cabinet housing a toothpick dispenser, and depressed the mechanism for one to roll out. He snapped it, put his hands behind his back, and shuffled the two ends into his palm, and had you choose one. Eddie kept his gaze averted, but grasped the other.

You held the long end of the toothpick above your head with a smile to rival the kitchen’s daylight bulbs searing into your retinas. You were the winner, and Eddie was the loser who had to clean the bathroom.

This worked swell when Steve was around to mitigate the tension. But when he was on a business trip, or out on a date, the Bed Schedule was a formality at best, and largely ignored at worst.

Meaning, the bets, deals, and favors began.

They started small: Rock, paper, scissors; winner gets dibs on those just-washed sheets. Flip a coin and see who has to rough it in the living room for the next two nights. Draw the shorter toothpick and try not to stab it in Eddie’s eye when he smirked.

But those were childish games. It was the deals and favors that proved more interesting.

“Can you help me punch holes in these?” you asked, voice high and urgent as you rushed to grab your color coded pie charts from the printer and clip them into a presentation binder.

He scoffed from the bedroom doorway, smelling of fryer oil and bacon grease. “What makes you think I want to help you after cooking for assholes all night?”

“Because you’re nice, and you love me.”

“I despise you,” he corrected, crossing his arms tight over his chest. He shifted his weight from foot to foot while you organized the pages, resisting the bait to give him what he wants, but you knew in your heart it was the only way to not be late for work this morning.

“Fine. You can have the bed tonight.”

He stayed put. “Nope. You know I’m working the overnight shift until Thursday.” That way, he slept while you were at work, and you slept while he was at work.

You glanced at the blue dawn creeping in from the window, then red the time on your watch. “Okay, fine, whatever! Have it all next week. I don’t give a fuck, just help me!”

Reveling in his victory, his plush lips stretched into a wide grin, showing too much teeth. He sauntered at his leisure, closing his eyes half-way, and gazing at you down the long slope of his nose. “Good girl, I knew you could do it,” he mocked.

You wanted to strangle him.

–And another time–

“Shut the fuck up for an entire day, and you can have to whole fucking closet,” Eddie snapped after your fifth instance of complaining about your professional office clothes not having available hangers due to him taking them for his old, ratty band tees.

Centering yourself, you brushed the dust off your favorite pants after finding them wadded up on the floor, and whispered, “I hope a rogue knife finds its way into your thumb again tomorrow.”

You swore you saw his hand flex out the corner of your eye, reacting to your curse.

–And the week after that–

You: come help me bring up these groceries

You: elevators broken

You: we can race up the stairs

You: loser washes dishes and takes out the trash

😒dumb: as long as the loser doesn’t cry about it when she sleeps on the couch

You: whatever

😒dumb: i’ll even give you a head start to make it fair

Struck with being that person grinning down at your phone in the stuffy underground parking garage, you gilded your thumbs over the keyboard in a fluttery tease.

You: you just want an excuse to stare at my ass

It took Eddie longer to reply, fumbling with his phone to find the emoji keyboard, only to send–

😒dumb: 🙄

–And the week after that–

“Get a life, you fucking loser,” you yelled from within the metal cylinder of the dryer, bent over on your hands and knees to wrestle your silk blouse free from where it was tangled in a rope of bedsheets, after you told him–explicitly–to never wash it because he’d do it wrong.

He merely watched you struggle from the sidelines, informing you, “You’re the one who asked me to do laundry. Don’t toss your precious, delicate shirts on the bathroom floor if you don’t want them thrown in with everything else. And by the way, I did my part of the deal, so the room is still mine tonight.” As a bonus, he added as he walked away, “Suck my dick, sweetheart.”

Your gums ached from how hard you clenched your teeth. You didn’t leave your blouse on the floor. He did, when he went hunting for his wallet he left in his jeans, and dumped all the clothes out of both baskets, mixing your work clothes with his.

That night, you locked him out of the bedroom. Fuck him.

————

After tireless days of the same back and forth, the juvenile deals and favors were losing their significance. Someone needed to up the ante. And a certain line you two skirted taunted you both, but remained uncrossed until..

————

The hallway leading to your apartment was stale with inactivity. Most people had been home for hours, or were back from bars and crashed on the couch, drooling on their girlfriend’s favorite decorative pillow–the kind with the pom poms. You thought of them with envy. Snoring, dreaming of some blissful shit like sheep hopping a pasture fence. But not you. Your 9 to 5 extended far past those numbers on the clock. It skipped right over them, just like you were skipped over in meetings, being told the extra burden you were taking on was good for the company, and the programs you were learning would be paid in experience. Bullshit. You were tired, and the last thing you needed was some long haired man stubbing his toe on the coffee table to wake you up–morning or night.

But perhaps you were blessed.

You opened the door to near-darkness. Not a lamp, or TV on inside to show someone was home. Not a groan, sigh, or blast of music funneling from a set of oversized headphones. Not a creak of movement from the hallway, or bathroom; surrendering your heartbeat as the loudest feedback.

It appeared you were alone. What a wonderful thing.

The muffled thud of the low pile rug under your heels gave way to silky sweeps of plush carpet welcoming your aching pantyhose-covered feet. Moving further into the apartment, you knew the shapes to avoid in the dim light coming from above the stove, casting the coffee table and scattered stools at the breakfast bar in shadow.

Groggy from exhaustion, you blinked at the spice cabinet door Eddie left open before leaving for his shift. During a conversation with Steve, you let it slip that people who leave the cabinet doors open annoy you, so of course he began leaving one open as a greeting when you came home.

You closed it with your right hand, swinging your laptop bag wildly, and before you could react, the strap caught the top of the glass sugar jar and knocked it over in a wincing crash. Luckily, after peeping one eye open, you assessed nothing broke, but now there was a streak of glittery white dust on the countertop you definitely weren’t going to clean up.

Maybe you could strike a deal with Eddie to wipe it up for you. It was–in a way–his fault, since he left the cabinet door open. If you didn’t need to close it, none of this would’ve happened..

You made a gagging sound.

Since when did your immediate thought process swing to him, and how do you get it to stop? It was bad enough you peeked around the corner into the hallway, praying, praying, praying the bedroom light was off, and feeling your body slump with utter relief when it was. Being on the same planet as him was hell, you didn’t need your private thoughts to linger on him, too.

Mentally dismissing Eddie Munson from your brainspace, you invited yourself into the bedroom. You sought the cushy mattress to cradle your weary body after a long day, and the nest of cozy fleece blankets to swaddle you as you drifted to sleep. Unfortunately, the idiot’s pillow smelled far too much like him; cigarettes and cheap vanilla cologne combined with his hair products, burning your nose like toasted sugar. Despicable. Just the worst. You should exchange it with your own pillow, but you forgot it on the couch, and the couch was so very, very far away..

~~~

Eddie sat crouched in the alleyway outside of Benny’s Diner with a stubby cigarette balanced between his lips, blowing the smoke out in a slow exhale like a roll of fog on a misty morning. Cold emanated from the bricks pricking the expanse of his shoulders, and the night air chilled his damp shirt to his sticky skin, erupting goosebumps along his forearms. Standing around him were the other cooks on break. He didn’t share a common language with them outside of gestures, curse words, and kitchen lingo, but they gathered in a semi-circle as if to include him.

His shift was over. He’d technically clocked out, but he loitered until their vices were stomped under their shoes, and he snuffed his glowing ash on the wall behind him, and followed them inside.

Washing his hands first, he dried them on the towel tucked under the string of his apron tied around his waist, and set up a space on the flat top for him to occupy since the dinner rush had long since died, and the only patrons on the floor were drunks wandering in for greasy hashbrowns. He grabbed the four quart Cambro from the fridge beneath the prep area, and ladled enough batter for two large pancakes. Borrowing a station, he sliced up a ripe banana from the walk-in, and dropped it into a hot pan with a bit of butter, caramelizing them on the range while he waited for the pancakes to be flipped.

The guys behind him read off the few tickets, and carried their conversation from earlier. Eddie caught some of it, learning a few words here or there, but regardless of the language barrier, he knew they were talking about him. They were snickering with their heads together, pointing at the pancakes he was making despite being clocked out.

Eddie spoke with a sneaky grin, “If I make them for her, she’ll leave me the fuck alone on my day off.”

The guys may not have understood entirely what he meant, but his sunny disposition juxtaposed by his wry gaze communicated a universal plight: girls.

One of their hands landed hard between Eddie’s shoulder blades when they doubled over in a belly laugh, and the other one made whip-cracking sounds, calling him the same slang word he called the married cooks. It wasn’t worth it to attempt to correct them that these pancakes were not for his girl, but for his future migraine, so he hummed along with them, and flipped the pancakes with his right hand while tossing the bananas with a swift jerk of his left.

After their gossip, they went back to work, and Eddie grabbed a to-go container, loading it with the two pancakes and sliding the caramelized bananas on top. He brought it to the prep area to drizzle with chocolate sauce, and finished it off with heart-shaped strawberries, a dusting of powdered sugar, and a sprig of mint. He didn’t cut the strawberries that way with ulterior motives, it was just something he did when he had spare time in the morning. Cutting a wedge out of the stemmed top, and slicing them vertical. The customers liked it. It was cute, supposedly. There were no hidden intentions to him taking his time to place them just so around the box; it was merely him taking pride in how he plated his dish.

Clamping the container shut, he untied his apron, changed his shoes, and left out the back entrance, kicking pebbles under the crescent moon, and walking through the front door of the next building over. Gray concrete, a faulty elevator, ugly rugs to feign elegance, and high rise as far as ‘high rise when you live next a bunch of squatty buildings’ went. It was home, and it was blissfully dark inside.

Eddie worked his feet out of his tied-once-and-never-untied street shoes, and dropped his non-slip clogs next to them in a loud clatter.

He breathed. Inhaled deep. Sighed through his nose.

Quiet. Peaceful respite behind his eyelids.

The adrenaline ebbed. The hours of shouting and being shouted at, metal on metal clangs, timer beeps, and mechanical whirr of a ticket being printed out would never cease haunting his mind, but he should stop flinching from the imaginary sounds after a few hours. The pain stretching the length of his back should ease under a hot shower. The throbbing ache in his knees should lessen once he sleeps. The fatigue, like needles driven into his bones, should heal so he could be on his feet for thirteen more hours tomorrow.

Warmth worked its way beyond the calluses creating a barrier in his palm supporting the styrofoam container. Syrupy sweet hot sugar invaded his nostrils from the pancake bribe, battling the stench of his dried sweat and body odor baked into his t-shirt. The tiled entryway beneath his feet woke him out of his daze, and he slid his heavy-lidded gaze to the vacant couch; the comforter was folded, and the pillow was propped up, unslept on.

Briefly he wondered if you went out with your friends after work. But as he approached the kitchen, his dreams were crushed by a single closed cabinet door.

You were home.

You were home, and you weren’t on the couch, nor in the shower.

Eddie allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he hung his head back. In that position, he rolled the disappointment out of his shoulders, and braced them with something new.

Irritation.

Tamping the frustration in the pit of his stomach from bubbling up, he exhaled another calming breath, and opened the fridge, placing the pancakes exactly front and center amongst the fresh produce he was sometimes excited to create with, and sometimes slammed to the bottom of the trash when he was too exhausted and uninspired to do anything with their rotten corpses.

He prepared his expression into one of unbudging indifference. Flat, and unwilling to back down.

And yet, his nose scrunched when he pushed open the bedroom door, and there you were, as predicted, lounging amongst your hideous blankets spilling out from under you as if you were an opulent pearl nestled within an oyster shell.

The resentment built as he assessed your form delicately painted in a red glow from the ugly neon sign in the shape of a lipstick kiss tacked alongside his favorite band posters. He’d only lived with Steve long enough to feel comfortable decorating the blank walls, and you ruined the Rob Halford flow three days into your invasion. Your face was highlighted by the dim blue light of your laptop resting on your stomach, rising and falling with each gentle breath, and you were haloed by the Himalayan salt lamp crowding the nightstand. It’s trendy, you explained.

With vehemence, he flickered the light switch.

You cringed from the bright assault, and clacked your fingers on the keyboard, pretending you weren’t dozing off a second ago. “Can you go away?”

“What��re you doing in here?”

Unimpressed by his tone, you glazed your response in insolence. “What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m minding my own business.” At that, your attitude was solidified, along with how this interaction would go.

Eddie stared at you for a long minute. Not once did you acknowledge him. He watched your eyes dart across the screen, probably watching one of those Youtube videos where girls walked around exciting cities with a camera way too close to their face, and he dragged his gaze downwards, noticing you were still in your work clothes; though, your blouse and skirt were disheveled, and your pantyhose were discarded on the floor, still holding the vague shape of your legs, resembling a flattened rotisserie chicken.

He focused on your eyes again. Bloodshot, rimmed in red with a suggestion of water clinging to the outer corners where your eyelashes met, and sporting a hefty burden of bags beneath them.

“It’s Wednesday,” he reminded you, voice heavy in his chest, but sounding scratchy, and hollow. His throat was shot.

“Mm,” you hummed and glanced at the clock in the corner of your screen, “it’s Thursday, actually.”

White hot anger boiled in his veins, striking his skin like a leather lash. It simmered, popped, sizzled, boiled over. The yelling, the timers, the cacophonous clanging. The ticket machine, the keyboard, the stinging cut on his thumb. Smug fucking brat laying in his bed on his night to have it. It was sudden, it was stark, and it was hatred.

“Make a deal.”

“A deal?”

“A fucking deal,” he repeated. “You know, like we’ve been making?” He stopped himself short of calling you a dirty name, but you must’ve gathered it from his tongue’s hesitation, because you turned your head a few degrees to challenge his temper.

“Oh, lucky for you, there was a two-for-one deal at the store.”

You waved two middle fingers at him, showing a bit of teeth with your crooked grin.

The hatred festered, but not as vicious. The anger was there–oh, the anger was there–but the energy to keep this going hit its peak, and fizzled. There was no sense in reasoning with you. The pancakes in the fridge were for a different occasion, he couldn’t waste them on this, and he was too tired to come up with his own bet, deal, or favor. “Just think of something so we can get this over with,” he nearly begged.

After some consideration, you held your fist out for rock, paper, scissors.

“Where’s the option for a gun in my mouth?”

“Harsh,” you pouted. Instead, you pointed at the 20 sided die on the desk. He inclined his head, shaking it with a slow sort of intention, eyes wide to express his warning to knock it off, and give him a true answer, something to make this worthwhile.

Finding the whole ordeal dull, you returned your attention to your laptop, pressing the white earbud into your ear before unpausing the video.

It took seconds off his life, but you finally spoke again.

“How long were you in prison? Six years? Bet it’s been a while since you’ve seen one of these in the flesh.” Due to your satin cream blouse being unbuttoned at the neck, you dipped your thumb under the collar, and traced the vibrant temptation of your red bra strap in a long, deliberate stroke. You hooked the soft pad of your thumb under the luxury, and brought it out for his viewing pleasure. A moment later, you snapped it to your skin, and went back to typing, not once breaking concentration with your video.

Eddie’s fascination, however, was trained on the dainty crimson gift slipping under the shimmery cream, sliding against the soft slope of your shoulder.

Heat thrummed in his chest. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, sloshing his blood like viscous tidal waves, muting the clacky sound of your keyboard. Anger mixed with something more, something worse. It warmed his cheeks, and reignited the cold sweat prickling his back. It honed his curiosity, sinking every detail of the second tortoiseshell button on your blouse into his mind. Memorizing how the fabric around it went taut, and glinted honey at the height of your breath. Noticing how the bottom of your shirt was wrinkled and pulled slack, but still tucked into your pencil skirt. Remembering how the tight material hugged your thighs when you traipsed around the apartment. Although, the navy blue number was less defined now, fitting looser around your hips.

He didn’t know how long he was fixated by your clothing, until you sighed.

“Not enough for you?”

You asked it with forced casualness, he could tell. Your voice was too even, tone too polite, eyebrows too raised in mock indifference. You were introducing a line that had yet to be crossed. A door which, when opened, would give access to more possibilities than the usual bets, deals, and favors. An enticing offer, and he didn’t deny the nervous flutter of intrigue arousing his blood elsewhere.

But past the line was dangerous territory. Right? That’s where things got muddied, and feelings got involved.

Or maybe not. Because, above all else, he hated you, and you hated him.

This was a deal like any other.

“Maybe this’ll help,” you said, never breaking eyesight from the screen, its colors reflecting in your pupils.

You were the epitome of cool pinching the blouse between your fingers and slotting the buttons through the holes one after the other. Down, down, down to your navel, tugging either side of the shirt open, letting the elegant cream frame the aggressive scarlet.

Eddie was taken off guard.

The bra was more akin to lingerie than he expected. Its cups contained you like a poorly kept secret. Curves of red peonies covered your nipples–hard bud pressing against the center of the flower from the thrill of exploring a new end to your daily arguments. Your areolas peeked from between the petals, where the intricate lacework went see through, granting him a preview to the smooth flesh beneath.

Click clack, click clack, space bar, space bar, space bar, he swore you pressed your arms together to make your breasts rounder. Actually, he didn’t need to second guess. He saw the cusp of cleavage squish before his very eyes.

“Satisfied?” you inquired.

No, he ached.

The voice in his head was so automatic, so sure, he didn’t question it, either.

When he refused to verbalize the things which made him nauseous, his opulent pearl rolled onto her shoulder and lifted the laptop the pillow, turning over onto her stomach to engage with it solely, circling a manicured fingernail over the trackpad, and clicking.

To his surprise, the video on screen wasn’t of the vapid people you watched, but of a troubleshooting guide to the program your company was having you learn in order to teach it to the higher ups next week. (Or so he heard when you told Steve yesterday.) You tabbed out of the video, fixed a property in a column, checked the statistic it was evaluating, and added in an aesthetically pleasing green color before tabbing back.

He couldn’t parse how he felt about you having to do more thankless tasks off the clock, especially when you were clearly tired, but something else stole the last of his fiery anger, and doused his willpower to resist a glance.

Your habit of unzipping your skirt as soon as you walked into the apartment proved evident when you rolled over. The silky polyester lining slipped against your skin, shifting the long zipper from your hip to your backside. The halves parted, showing the end of the cream blouse, and a peek of skin. You adjusted how you laid, rocking your hips back and forth until you sank into the plush blankets, and propped your chin in your palm when you weren’t typing. Small movements working the skirt higher, and higher, bunching the fabric around the fat of your ass. Squirming, and stretching, tugging on your blouse, pulling, pulling, blouse, skirt, blouse, skirt, and then he saw it..

Red.

Delicate, feminine.

Tucked, hidden from anyone’s view but his, were the matching red panties to your bra. Trapped in a valley between thighs and ass, and stretching over the swell of your heat, embellishing the mouth watering desire in opaque lace strained firm against the outline of his treasure.

Eddie swallowed.

“Why’re you still in here?” you asked with a bite of annoyance. “You got to see a girl’s bra for the first time ever, probably. You should be celebrating, throwing yourself a party. In the living room. On the couch.”

The anger had returned like a slap of reality across his cheek. He narrowed his eyes at the back of your head, remembering why he loathed you with every fiber of his being. “I’ve seen a bra before.”

“Pictures don’t count.”

“Whatever, bitch.”

Your body jolted with a snort, and he flung open the door hard enough for it to bounce off the door stop. He heard your infuriating inhale, and slapped the lightswitch off, shutting the door behind him with excessive force before you could ask more demands of him. Gladly, he closed himself out of his own bedroom. The physical barrier under his trembling fist had never felt better, still gripping the knob as if he’d go back in there.

He wouldn’t.

He let go of the chilled metal and stalked down the hall, curbing himself from stomping out his frustration, only to throw himself onto the couch. Stomach burning with hunger, hatred. Chest heaving with rage. Pulse rising in his throat, beating against the ball chain necklace he wore. Breathing so hard, sounding as if he’d ran laps before collapsing onto his bed for the night, crossing his arms to squeeze his biceps, massaging his fingers down the muscle. Occupying himself. Distracting himself.

It wasn’t working.

He was mad.

Furious.

Draping his hand over his eyes, he gave himself a moment to make a decision, and pushed his bangs off his forehead. They stayed in their gravity defying position due to the oil. He needed to shower. He needed to clean himself of this day, and go to sleep. But he couldn’t.

The fever in his veins was too distracting. He needed to take care of it. Get rid of it.

Sitting up, he unfolded the comforter from the end of the couch, and propped the pillow against the armrest to angle his head slightly up, where he could see the hallway.

From his front pocket, he collected his phone and laid it on his stomach while he unbuttoned his pants, pinching the waistband together and pulling the zipper down, sighing through his nose at the relief of the lines he was crossing.

He grasped his phone and brought it close to his face. Cupped in one palm, and using the other hand to tap it twice. A streak of perspiration was left on the screen where he swiped in his passcode, using his index finger to open a private browser and type in a porn site. Any porn site. Whichever variation of the word porn + noun he thought of first. It didn’t matter much to him; that’s not where his preferences lie.

office worker

co-worker

secretary

office worker tight skirt

office worker pov skirt grinding

His brain went stupid for synonyms trying to narrow down his search. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew the ultra HD, professionally lit, fakey acting wasn’t it. He scrolled, and scrolled. Narrowed his search again. Ticked off boxes on the side. Tried broader genres. Went back to the results he was on, and traveled down the rabbit hole a few more pages until, at last, he found what suited him.

The thumbnail appeared promising. Dimly lit, sorta bad quality, and clearly shot at home with a woman whose body type wasn’t far off from what he was hoping for. He even appreciated the visual similarities in the amateur actress’ navy blue skirt, and off-white blouse. As long as he scrolled down a tad to crop out her face, it was perfect. Plus, it was easier to insert himself into the scene that way.

He clicked it, and– ”Jesus Christ,” he turned down the volume as quickly as he could, accidentally pressing down the two buttons on the side that took a screenshot and saved it to his gallery.

The video started a little further into the act than he anticipated.

Such a fucking idiot, Eddie, Jesus Christ. Sitting in thick silence, he waited to see if you’d heard, and once his face calmed of the embarrassed flush stinging his cheeks, he moved on.

Eddie worked his right hand under the comforter, but heeded his boxers as a layer of separation. At the first contact with the parts of him he denied aching for the bane of his existence, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Gently, he raked his fingernails down the base of his shaft, and over his balls. He cupped them. Felt their heft. Cradled them and dragged them softly upwards, letting them fall and stretch before repeating the motion, enjoying the tickly sensation of being the first thing he touched. His most sensitive, most susceptible part of himself. Meanly ignoring the other part of him twitching, throbbing, begging to be catered to.

He kept some fraction of his brain alert to the hallway, senses sharpened by the spike of adrenaline, listening out for any sound of you exiting the room. But most of him was focused on hitting the play button, sticking to his decision that he couldn’t wait to do this in the shower. He needed it now.

It started with the woman already in motion. Shot from the guy’s point of view laying on the bed, his obvious hardon pressing through his slacks into her pussy grinding down on him. Her skirt lifted with each motion, showing her black underwear. Not that he was complaining they weren’t red, but he didn’t concentrate on them.

He switched from playing with his balls to gripping his cock. Finally. It buzzed with the rush of pleasure, harder than it had ever been, even in his youth. His fingers hardly met through his boxers, but he encircled them the best he could, and started with fast, desperate, stunted strokes, getting himself to where the guy in the video was in a matter of pent-up seconds, clenching his ass to buck his hips up. Heart pounding. Inhales shaky from the speed at which he took care of his problem, exhales interrupted by muted huffs.

Maybe he should be embarrassed, but it didn’t take him long to feel that encouragement to keep going, keep going, keep going. Where each frantic pump along his length was better than the last. Where each accidental graze of his fingers over the lipped edge of his tip sprinted towards his bliss.

In the video, the woman dipped a finger between her lips and moved her panties aside.

There was a low hum in the back of his throat, engrossed by the wet warmth opposed to his dry fist.

Metal knob turning–door creaking–carpet groaning, step, step, step–

It was a fucking miracle he managed to close out of the window in his panic. His thumb missed it the first two times as fear coated him in a cold sweat, and the phone fell out of his palm, smacking him in the chin as you rounded the corner.

You didn’t spare him the time of day as you walked into the kitchen and got a glass from the cabinet. Didn’t bother looking at him as you stood at the fridge with your hip cocked out, holding the cup under the outer dispenser and depressing the button for ice.

The fridge made a mechanical whirr, and filled your glass. Ker-chunk, ker-chunk, ker-chunk, the ice cubes tinked into the cup for the longest seconds of his life. His hand was frozen mid-tug on his dick, and you were wearing an oversized t-shirt, and nothing else. Truly, it hardly covered your ass. It clung to your hips, brushed the height of your thighs, and suddenly, he was checking how obvious the bulk of the comforter was over his lap, and if it creased when he moved his hand upwards.

Nothing. Not a fold out of place. He could keep it up. Stroke, by stroke, brushing his fingers over the head only, testing his limits to keep discreet while you switched to the other spout on the fridge for water.

Even when you turned to him, he massaged himself over his boxers, soaking the sticky slick beads of precum into the fabric.

“What?”

Your tone didn’t deter him from tracing the underside of his swollen head, caressing the glans with the same sort of sentiment he experienced in the homemade porn between a real couple–all gentle and nice.

He mustered enough brain cells to respond, “What? I’m already sleeping on the couch. Can’t you leave me alone for one night? Or are you that desperate for attention?”

None the wiser, you took a sip from your glass, and folded your other arm across your stomach, making it obvious from the natural sway that you weren’t wearing a bra. Probably weren’t wearing panties either..

Swallowing the ice cold water with a satisfied ‘ah’, you went on your merry way. “Just came to gawk at the bridge troll, is all. Night night!” Your annoying farewell was followed by the creak of the door, and the faint click of it closing.

What a fucking irritating person.

The anger bristled again. Definitely anger. It was there, lurking, when he rubbed at the sore spot on his chin and picked up his phone, unlocking it to stare at the homescreen.

There was no patience within him to find the video. Besides, the sanitized professional thumbnails on the homepage were enough to have him dropping his phone to the cushion crevices beside him, surrendering himself to his imagination. Nothing lived up to the scenarios in his head, anyway.

Before getting ahead of himself, he slid his fingers beneath the elastic waistband, and gripped himself wholly. There was no sense in denying what he wanted: the raw desire of his hand wrapped firmly around his cock, not caring about creating a mess. It could be cleaned up later. He needed this. Now.

He immersed himself in the fantasy.

The visuals took place minutes ago, if he hadn’t backed down. It was based on you refusing to give him the bed, and instead of walking away from your bratty attitude, he lifted his chin, and broadened his chest with a confidence he didn’t possess. Fantasy Eddie had the courage to kneel on the mattress like he belonged there. Your body would dip, rock towards his imposing knees straddling either side of your calves, and in his strongest dreams, he acted out what should’ve happened.

If he had his way, he would begin with your hips. A single strong palm on the curve would have you hiking them up to greet him, and he was a gentleman. As soon as you presented him with the opportunity, he was scrambling to spread your legs so he could dip between them, eager to please. He wanted to know the sensation of coarse red lace scratching across his tongue; it would be a novelty only he would know. His hands would be on your upper thighs, bringing you closer, closer, to where his mouth awaited you. Persuading your face to the sheets. Putting a wicked arch in your back, granting him permission.

He’d angle his mouth to your clothed clit and collect spit to his bottom lip, parting, and lapping his tongue over the pretty thing, suckling it through the fabric. His nose would be to your cunt, inhaling the musky pheromones. Didn’t matter how long you’d been at work, proving yourself to people who would never appreciate you like he did. He cherished every bit of you so much. The heady scent intoxicated him like a drug, the dimples when he smashed the fat of your ass around his face, your silly whine when he pressed kisses up your pretty pussy. The anger was gone. Like that, he adored you. After all, you craved him. And it’d been a long time since he was wanted. It felt nice to not be rejected.

Eddie, Fantasy You gasped when the wet sound of him sucking your clit through your panties grew in fervor. He was drunk on you. Trying hard. Giving more. Licking at the dark patch he created. God, he loved it. He loved the evidence. He could suckle, moan, flatten his tongue like torture and just breathe on you until he fell asleep, waking up to nudge his teeth over the sensitive areas you presented to him. Spending hours getting you to your peak, over and over.

But in reality, he was approaching his end rather quickly.

My turn, sweetheart, he regretfully informed you.

Getting to his knees, he positioned himself behind you. His cock slotted so nicely against you; red lace meeting unzipped gray uniform pants, and he wasted no time stoking the flames from where he left off.

He clapped your cheeks around the hard outline of his cock. His black boxers stretched to their limits to contain him. There was a dark patch at the tip peeking out between your ass, growing with each slow, assertive grind he committed to, fucking himself into the curve of your cunt with ragged breaths. Losing himself. Mouth agape, and eyebrows pinched as his needy head was swallowed when he rocked his hips back, and reappeared with a rough thrust.

Again, it didn’t take long until he needed a break to make himself last longer.

He draped his weight over you as he slid his rough, calloused palms up the backs of your thighs, creating goosebumps along the sensitive flesh on his way to your sorry excuse for skirt. He bunched the pitiful thing to your waist, and reached for the hem of your shirt.

You hummed in approval, pressing against his lap.

It was hard to balance, but you supported him as he yanked your blouse up–sucking in a sharp breath when you moaned, and rutted yourself on his length–and he brushed his fingers along your soft skin in search for the bra clasp, and when he found it, he pulled the band tight. The latch gave. He caught sudden heft in his palm, cupping you and the bra together, massaging lightly until your nipple slotted between the base of two of his fingers, and he applied the gentlest pressure.

Oh fuck, you whined so nicely for him.

They’re extra sensitive after being caged all day, you explained.

Yeah? Does it feel good?

You nodded, cheek smashed against the wrinkled sheets.

He pinched harder.

Saliva gathered at the corner of your lips, spilling in a sticky string as you dragged your head in another nod, heavy-lidded eyes just visible through your lashes, open mouth panting for him.

True satisfaction spread like weightlessness from the pit of anger in his stomach. He wasn’t supposed to be making you feel good, not the person ruining the one place he found peace after six years of paranoia, but here he was, wishing the taste of your pussy lasted longer in his mouth. Here he was, anchoring his forearm alongside yours, gripping the same sheet you gripped while he beared his weight down on you, and pressed kisses to your clothed shoulders.

His other hand was trapped between you and the bed, but each pulse around your nipple was another long stroke on his cock.

The scene had been set. The build up and story line were crafted. Now, he could play.

He worked kisses under your collar, tasting the sheen of sweat at your hairline, leaving trails of spit to cool as he lolled his head on top of yours, resting his forehead amongst your hair, and he put his lips to the shell of your ear, feeling you shiver beneath him.

Do you think you can treat me that way, and get away with it? Fantasy Him asked. Think you can boss me around whenever you want? He punctuated his question with a hard, unexpected thrust, earning a gasp from your pretty mouth.

Turn over. He didn’t command it verbally, but when he took away his hand to smack the side of your ass, and sat back, you were aware of his unstated switch in position.

You laid on your back, legs spread for him. Skirt bunched around your hips, blouse fallen open, except for the one button remaining. He grasped his cock, and stroked himself through his boxers for you. His brows were drawn together in a gentle question, gaze locked onto yours. This was supposed to be about him, but he still asked, Is this okay? Is this what you want?

The source of his anger, his rage, his frustration–all the blame, burdens, and negativity he attributed to a single woman–opened her arms to him, and nodded.

He passed over your pussy to praise kisses to your stomach. Deft fingers working to undo the last button on your blouse, and explore upwards. Wet smacks of his sloppy gifts arched your back the higher he traveled, molding his large hands to your body. Brushing his rough fingers to the junction of your inner thigh and hip, and spreading you open so your pussy swallowed the fabric, wedging the red lace tight to your clit for later. Up, up, his kisses covered you, until he nosed at the underwire of your bra, and lifted it out of the way.

Fuck, Eddie.

You pushed his hair out of his face. The shorter curls fell from the low bun at his nape, and you tucked them behind his ear so you could watch his tongue lap and swirl at your nipple. Your fluttery moans were heaven, as were your tits being shoved in his mouth. You squirmed for him, clamored for him. You wanted him, needed him. Did you care that his hair was greasy? Did you care that dried salt crystals from sweat scratched your fingers when you cradled his jaw? Did you care about his smell from thirteen hours of being in a hot kitchen when you cupped him under the armpits, encouraging him with a buck of your hips to get back to business?

He supposed not, since it was his fantasy.

But just like reality, you were trying to boss him around.

Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?

You could hardly meet his gaze, eyes so heavy with lust you couldn’t keep them open long enough to beg.

He aligned himself, nudging the tip of his cock to your clit, and he savored the experience of watching the bliss wash over you. It took him a beat to realize, but he moaned in response to your moan. Watching you react from where he picked up his head from your chest, memorizing the fake vision of your face losing the usual harsh distaste for him. Your lips were better this way–lush, and making an effort to sound out his name as he drew his hips back–not sneering because you had the displeasure of asking him a question.

Still, he drove forward with haste. Cotton on lace. Layers of separation. Anything else was too intimate for how he wanted to fuck you, rough and fast, caring only about himself and not about your poor neglected clit, swollen and pleading for his soft tongue, only to get rough, unmeasured thrusts. Messy, and unintentional, and denying. Until you made them work for you.

You used the meat of his shoulders as leverage. Digging your fingers in, holding tight as you rocked with him and raised your legs, wrapping them around his ass. The squeeze of your thighs, and pressure built from your locked ankles tipped you into a better position, and now, his entire length was flush to your clit, not simply passing over the top of it.

All of him was touching you, touching you, touching you. Trapping his cock between your stomachs, damp with reignited sweat. Back to rutting against one another at a desperate pace, chasing the tension, the high. The snap of his hips. Your stuttered groans for more. The anger, the hatred. Festering under the surface, bubbling in your insolence. Present in his teeth grazing your throat, nipping at the pulse, kissing, sucking, licking, tasting.

You’re gonna make me cum. Even Fantasy You said it in a lower register, reaching where the molten resentment laid dormant.

He found the same gravelly animosity and warned you, “I’m too close, I’m too close.”

You cradled him tighter, burying your heads in each other’s embrace. Muscles quivering from effort, burning with each grind, tensing under curious hands finding new places to cling to, curves to admire. Until they stayed put.

Nails bit flesh. Strong fingers dug painfully at bone. Mouths fell open. Eyes closed. Writhing flesh on fabric, and flesh, you trembled under him.

I’m–mm, Eddie–I’m cumming–

His thrusts faltered, jerking into short bursts, and his gracious moans went high and tight in his throat, spilling out as he panted, “You make me feel so good, baby. Fucked you so good. I can’t–I’m cumming–fuck–”

Fuck, Eddie–Fuck, Eddie–Fuck, Eddie–

–”Fuck,” he babbled aloud.

The climax took him to the dark apartment. The overwhelming shadows of sleeping in the lonely living room on the flat couch under an extra blanket not yet broken of its factory starch, scratchy on the skin. His muscles were still tensed into him curling in on himself, lifting his aching neck and shoulders off the pillow for a few more pumps of his hand sliding over his slick shaft, spreading the warmth oozing towards his hip, no doubt tangling the curly thatch of hair above the base. In lip-biting silence, he stroked himself, not daring to breathe after he knew he said something out loud from his imagination. He listened. Eyes straining to see the hallway.

His bangs stuck to the heavy sweat on his forehead.

His entire body was heated beyond belief.

Anticipation sat heavy on his tongue.

But as he came down from his peak, nothing happened. He stayed lonely. His heartbeat pounded against the guitar pick sticking to his chest, and that was it. Now his head was cleared of distractions, and he could sleep. The fantasy was a fantasy, and in this reality, he wouldn’t do this again. It was too weird to muddy the multitude of negative feelings he had for you with.. whatever this was.

A release, that’s what this was.

Kicking the blanket off, he swung his legs to the side to sit up, socked feet softened by the plush carpet. He pressed his palm over the sticky substance dripping downward, and soaked it up to the best of his ability. And as his cum hit the fresh air, and his inhale was cut short as he smelled his shirt, he thought about the shower he needed. And he thought about the dark patch on his boxers. And he thought about his clothes in the dresser in the bedroom.

Looking down, he inspected his gray pants, and groaned.

They were ruined.

So, so ruined and obvious as to what he was doing.

There was no way he could go into there and grab new clothes for a shower. The thought of facing you after this, and you seeing him in this pathetic state–and God, if you knew it was because of you, and because he couldn’t control himself–he’d rather die than admit you did this to him.

Fuck.

Couldn’t even go to his own room for some fucking clothes so he could shower after working all day.

Yeah, that confirmed it. He fucking hated you.

Hated you even more when he thought about you sleeping on his mattress, wrapped snug in his bedsheets wearing only a t-shirt with nothing else to cover you, and his dick twitched again for that red lace he knew was discarded in the laundry basket.

“Fuck my life.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #linecook!eddie #roommate!eddie #ex-con!eddie

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misserabella · 7 months

Text

perfect sin

innocent sub virgin! abby x dom fem! reader

synopsis;; Abby was a good girl. Was…

cw;; use of y/n (sorry but it was needed), sub and complete inexperienced yet not innocent abby, references to the bible (algo unholy use of abby’s one) and church, mocking of god, the bible and sins (PLEASE AGAIN, DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY), cursing, alcohol drug use, dry humping, loss of virginity, dirty talk, nipple play, teasing, smut, scissoring, dumbification, masturbation (both receiving), oral sex (a receiving), worshipping kink & god kink (kinda???), overstimulation, dacryphilia (kinda?), finger fucking, chocking, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms… MINORS DNI!!!

Abby Anderson was a good girl. A straight A’s student, not a big fan of parties, hated alcohol, didn’t do drugs kind of good girl. And… she was really religious. She had always been. She accompanied her father to church every Sunday, went to a religious school and based her reading on her worn bible before going to bed every night. At her eighteen years of life, the most ‘unholy’ thing she had ever done was lie, and she made sure to swear that she’d never do it again.

But that oath didn’t age well, since she was, once again, lying about the fact that she’ll be staying over one of her church friends’ when she was planted in front of the biggest party she had ever seen —the only one she had ever seen, to be honest—.

Although Abby was a good girl, her best friend, Ellie Williams, surely wasn’t. They were complete polar opposites. You just had to stare at them to see that. Whilst Abby seemed like a complete church girl with her button shirt tucked on her caqui pants and her school’s white little sleeveless sweater on top. —She looked so nerdy and cute with those glasses of hers…— Ellie looked like a rockstar, with her smeared eyeliner, short auburn hair, black clothes and silver rings…

Nobody knew how the two of them could be such good friends… But they were. Ellie was a bad influence, always breaking the rules and getting in trouble. And Abby was… the good influence, the pure one of the couple, always in charge of putting some sense into Ellie’s head when her mind convinced her on doing things that seemed like a good idea when in reality were not and getting her out of trouble. They worked.

Ellie loved to hang out with Abby, always trying to make her do something bad and ‘unholy’ but always getting a ‘no’ for an answer. And she thought that it will be that way forever, but surprisingly enough, Abby had acceded to go with her to one of those crazy parties she always attended. So there they were, stepping into the packed house and automatically being hit by the smell of cheap alcohol, weed and hormones.

Abby didn't like it. She couldn’t help scrunching her nose, overwhelmed by the new surroundings. The air was saturated and it was too warm, making her glasses slightly fog.

Ellie laughed at her face, pushing one of her arms over her best friend’s shoulders and dragging her further inside with her. Abby felt as if the devil had took a hold on her and dragged her to Hell.

"Yo Ellie! Got some crystal?" Oh, right. Another thing about Ellie was that she was popular. Really popular. A lot of people waved at her as the two of them passed by. Probably due to her incredible stash and weed. But either ways, she had a lot of friends.

"Look for me later, 'lright? I´ll see what I can do for you then, pretty girls." the girls that had approached her smiled, nodding and giggling as they took off.

"Crystal?" Abby wondered, to what Ellie rolled her green eyes.

"Meth, Bibi. Meth." the blonde scrunched her face. She was well aware that Ellie was a dealer, she wasn't that stupid, she just didn't know much about it. And honestly, she'd like to keep it that way. Of course she was concerned for her best friend's well being, but Ellie had promised him that she wasn't getting into anything hard, weed was her way to go. "That shit is selling like Tommy’s beers." she shook her head, pulling her down the hallway and towards the salon, which connected to an open garden with pool and where the dancing floor took place.

"Ellie!!!" both of them turned to a brunette smiley girl with a cigarette on her left hand.

"Dina!" she seemed just as pleased to see the brown eyed as her to see her. "What are you doing here!?" the arm that stood around her shoulder fell when she stepped closer to her to pull her into a tight hug.

"Oh, you know... y/n." she rolled her eyes, still a happy smile making her cheeks swell.

Ellie chuckled. "That little friend of yours is a true menace..." she shook her head. "I like her." that only made Dina laugh.

"Everyone does..." she sighed, taking a hit to her cigarette as her eyes found Abby's. "Let me guess... Perfect hair, ironed clothes, that church girl's face...Is this Bibi?" Ellie smiled as she nodded, surrounding her friend's shoulder with her arm again before pulling her flush to her side.

"In holy spirit." Abby pushed her hand away when her fingers dug on her hair, messing it all up.

"Nice to meet you Dina." she said, offering one of her warm hands, trying to be polite.

"My pleasure." she actually took it, giving her a funny smile. "You seem scared... First party?" she felt his cheeks reddening in embarrassment as she nodded. “Aw, isn’t that cute… Try not to get eaten alive, hm?” Abby’s eyes widened at her words, but she simply laughed, stealing a bottle of whiskey from one of the guys that went heading towards the kitchen to refill the drinks before giving them their back, cigarette in between her lips as she walked away, turning around when she didn’t hear the two pair of friends following her. “Well? Are you guys coming or not?”

They understood then, nodding and following her down another hallway and into a more private room. From the little people inside Abby thought it could be for VIPS. The room was big, with a couple of sofas sitting around a little coffee table, which stood full of cigarettes, alcohol, little plastic bags, weed…

It seemed to be that they had found the stoner room.

“Dina! Dina’s back!!” a sweet and drunk voice filled the room as the door closed behind their backs. Abby’s eyes met a dark haired girl on one of the sofas, cup in hand and a tipsy smile on her face.

Dina chuckled before going towards the drunk girl, who wrapped her arms around her, pulling her so hard down and against her that almost made her fall. “Lily!” she whined when her face was filled of little kisses, what made Ellie laugh.

Abby looked a little bit shocked when the two of them started kissing.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you… Dina is gay. She’s dating Lily too.” Abby seemed amused by her reaction, which quickly faded. Was she surprised? Yeah, she was surely not expecting it. In her church everyone was so… straight. Was she disgusted? Absolutely not. She didn’t see any wrong in any kind of love. It was not ‘conventional’, as people would say, but it was still love and Abby was nobody to tell anyone what to or not to do. Also, she knew her best friend liked girls, and she didn’t love her any less for it.

“Thank god. She wouldn’t stop whining about how much she missed you, almost choked her to sleep for a moment there.” your amused voice chuckled beside her. When Abby’s eyes wondered towards the origin of the sound, she met a really pretty girl. Gorgeous even. Stealing breath away kind of pretty girl. You were dressed on a really tight and short red dress and black high heels. From her position she could see that your lips and eyes were of the same red color of your dress, the first due to a beautiful lipstick and the other probably for the blunt that stood in between your fingers. There was a hazed look on your face, and a soft smile tugging on your lips. Your hair flared a little bit as you turned to face the two best friends by the door. Abby felt like she couldn’t breath. Maybe due to the smoke inside the room… She thought. “Well I’ll be damned… Is that Ellie Williams?” your red eyes squinted a little bit, trying to focus on the auburn haired girl beside her, who shrugged as she stepped further into the room.

“What can I say? I’m famous amongst the ladies.” that made you laugh. And the sound of it was almost angelic. Abby’s heart tightened on her chest, your smile warming her up and making her feel all fuzzy inside. She was completely whipped. “Looking good y/n, been a long time since I last saw you.”

‘y/n’ So that’s who they had been talking about before… y/n, y/n… Even your name was pretty.

“Too long I’d say. Missed your weed. It is the best I’ve ever had.” she pressed a hand to her chest, honored. “And who is pretty girl over there?” Abby felt like fainting when your eyes met her body, lips around the blunt, sucking a new hit that left your throat burning up as the smoke filled your lungs.

“This…” Ellie pulled her by her arm, closer to you and the other two girls, strong enough to have her adjusting her crooked glasses. “Is Abby. Abby Anderson. My girl.” a smile crept on her lips when she recognized that look in your eyes as you scanned her up and down. “And who you are absolutely not getting closer to.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus. That fast you claiming a pretty thing like her?” you chuckled, shaking your head just to ignore her and focus on the brunette. “Nice to meet you Abby.” her name rolling on your tongue made her heart fall to the pitch of her stomach, fingers tingling and breath hitching. “I like your sweater.” she coughed, clearing her throat when one of your legs crossed over the other, chest sticking out and your back arched as you accommodated yourself on the sofa. Her eyes darted elsewhere as she awkwardly scratched her neck.

“Thank you.” she stuttered. “I like your…, dress.” that’s the first thing that came to mind and, as she realized what she had just spit out, the stupidest thing too.

You smirked, taking another hit to the blunt. “You do?” you looked down at it. “It’s a little bit uncomfortable though, too tight.” you teased, although she didn’t seemed to get it. Not as Ellie did, scoffing to bring your attention back to her. “You seem uncomfortable too standing over there, why don’t you come take a sit?” you patted the empty place beside you.

“This is Abby’s first party.” she said, eyebrows raising in caution. “Came straight from church studies.” she put extra emphasis to those last two words, which only made you smile harder and Ellie sigh. You were the devil in disguise.

“Oh… A church girl.” you smirked. “That’s why I’ve never seen you around before. I would remember a pretty face like yours.” you winked at her, and her whole body flushed, making you chuckle. Why was this happening to her? She’d never felt like this… Not even with Owen, who had been dating her for a couple of weeks before she told him she couldn’t keep doing it. She didn’t love him. She wasn’t sure she even liked him. She couldn’t even bring herself to kiss him. And now you were making her blush that easily? Making butterflies come up her stomach?

“You. Stop it.” Ellie pointed at you with squinted eyes, making you rise your hands in a peace offering, faking innocence.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Oh, you know what you are doing.” you tilted your head a little bit, smirk returning.

“Yeah I do…” you chucked, just to sigh afterwards. “Fine. I’ll be good.” you gave in. “But still, sit your ass here and give me something good, will you?”

Ellie smiled, quickly sitting down in one of the single sofas beside you. “Yes ma’am.” she teased you as she extracted from one of her front pockets a little plastic bag full of a shiny white powder. “Is this good enough?” she inquired and you only smiled, teasingly answering.

“This will do.” she laughed, watching you take a peek at the drug, shaking it in between your fingers a little bit. “You. Pretty girl.” you called for Abby, who had never stopped staring at you and got startled by your sudden attention. “Lend me your bible, will you?” she quickly pushed one of her hands on her front pocket, pulling out a pocket mini bible from it before walking towards you to hand it to you. Her eyes widened when you pulled her from her arm so she would sit down beside you, fingers lingering on her own as you took her bible from her hand. “Thanks.” you whispered, eyes on her own as you opened it to find just what you were looking for: a picture of Jesus.

You took it out and pushed the bible on top of the tea table before spreading the white powder on top of it, using the photo to spread it in thin and large lines. She was stunned, and Ellie was just too amused to stop you, finding it funny the fact that you were using something ‘holy’ to deal with something that was not.

“Amen.” you muttered before bowing down and pressing your nose to the bible, sniffing the whole line in a go. When you pulled back up and against the sofa, Abby saw the remains of the power on your nose. And even if she knew that she wouldn’t think it, she still found you unbelievably beautiful. “What is it pretty girl? Want to give it a try?” she quickly shook his head.

“No! I think that would be…, a sin.” that only made Ellie, the girls and you laugh. She looked so scared you almost felt bad.

“Come on, you’re not gonna tell me that you’ve never sinned, are you now?” she remained silent, making you frown. “Really?” Ellie chuckled beside you.

“Abby is a fucking saint. Never drank, never kissed… Never fucked.” Abby’s cheeks flushed red as she gave Ellie a death stare.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” your eyes were wide open. Well, as far as they’d go. You were starting to feel all fuzzy and tingly due to the coke and weed in your system. “A fucking virgin… And you are friends with Ellie Williams… Isn’t that funny?” the green eyed seemed hurt, mouth falling open. “With all respect, you are a whore.” her mouth only fell further open, what made you laugh. “You have at least rubbed one out, right?” once again she remained silent, eyes elsewhere and bottom lip in between her teeth. “Right?”

Ellie seemed interested too, as well as Dina and Lily.

“I can’t believe it.” you whispered when she didn’t correct you. Ellie was just as shocked.

“Oh my god…” Dina muttered.

In eighteen years. Not even a little rubbing?

“Jesus…” they all sighed at the same time, and Abby’s cheeks only reddened even more.

“Committing adultery is a sin, alright?” she groaned, too overwhelmed by the attention that was being poured on her. She felt like running away.

“You know what’s a real sin, Abby?” you said, making her stare at you. “Not having an orgasm ever. That’s a fucking sin.” she felt even the tips of her ears redden.

“I’ve—“

“Man, I know you and your father has always been super religious, but you don’t always have to follow some rules that were written centuries ago. If that makes you happy then that’s okay, but aren’t there a lot of things you’ve wanted to do that you couldn’t do due to that goddamn bible?” Ellie inquired, to what Abby nodded.

“I mean ye—“

“Then fuck it!” Dina said, snuggling closer her drunk girlfriend, who nodded in agreement. “Do whatever you want.”

“I can’t…”

“Oh yes you can, and you are gonna do it.” you smiled. “You can always ask for forgiveness, you know? Cry up a little bit at church tomorrow afternoon and say that some evil spirit got a hold on you or some shit like that. You wouldn’t be the first miscarried little sheep around here.” she stiffened when your hand fell on her knee, thumbs rubbing imaginary circles on her skin. She gulped, eyes on your pretty hand before you would lean in and grab her attention once again. “So…, what is it that you wanna do, pretty girl?” she was wicked. Under the spell of your gorgeous smile, reddened eyes and haunting face.

Your smile only grew more when her eyes fell to your red lips…

“Eyes up here, Abby.” you muttered, pointing to your eyes and making the rest of the group chuckle. Ellie sighed, knowing it was probably too late for Abby. You had that power of making people lose themselves into you. And Abby was absolutely lost.

“I… I don’t know…”

“Okay…” you hummed. “Why don’t we start off with something soft, hm?” you offered, and the brunette was the first to catch on, offering you a bottle of tequila that stood on the tea table along with a shot glass.

You poured just the perfect amount into it, grabbing another one for yourself along with limes and salt before leaving the bottle where it belonged.

“Okay. This is a shot of tequila. Of course, you could just give it a go dry, but I like to make it more interesting with this.” You pointed at the lime. She was the one who seemed interested now. “I’ll show you how to have one, then it’s your turn alright?” she nodded and you smiled as you poured a pinch of salt on the back of your palm. That twisting feeling in her stomach returned when your tongue slid through your palm and the the salt, all while keeping your eyes on her own. After that, the alcohol went down your throat as you bent your head slightly backwards, pouring after that the lime as your teeth sank in it. Your face scrunched up due to the sourness of it all, but still the people around you cheered for you as you slammed the shot glass on the coffee table in front of you, smiling. “Did you get it?” you inquired the blonde, whose eyes seemed eager on you, probably due to the rush of adrenaline that went through her veins at the thought of trying something new and exciting. “Then go ahead pretty girl.” you poured salt once again on the back of your palm, handing it to her with a smirk. Her cheeks grew red at your actions, but despite that, she took a deep breath and dove in. All of you seemed surprised by her decisiveness. Your breath hitched when you felt her warm tongue on your skin, licking it clean of the salt before pulling away, and without giving it much thought —since she knew that if she did she’d repent— poured the liquor in her mouth, almost gagging as the tequila hit her tongue, what made her nose scrunch. The turn on her stomach and the burning of her throat was a new feeling, maybe not the best, but it was something new. And that excited her. She knew that drinking was not something forbidden, she had just been too scared of her dad’s disappointment if she ever tried it, so she never did. “So?” everyone stared at her, expecting to know her thought about her first time dealing with alcohol.

Abby coughed, squinting a little bit as her hoarse voice broke the silence. “It burns.”

All of you bursted out in laughter, she could have said anything, and yet she went with the understatement of the century.

“Yeah, it usually does.” Ellie sighed, shaking her head. “That’s the fun of it. Trying to see how much of it you can handle before passing out.” Abby seemed confused as she frowned.

“That doesn’t sound very amusing.”

“Oh, that’s because you aren’t mixing it with anything else...” you smiled. “Actually, you could use a little bit of weed.” Ellie was quick to pull a little bag from her pockets with a bright smile. Once on your fingers and opened, you groaned at the strong and sour smell. “Fuck, I’d eat you out right now if there weren’t so many people here.” Ellie chuckled at your words, and Abby only blushed, taken back by your language. There was a burn in her stomach that pleaded her to make you let out more of those little sounds out of your mouth. And maybe she should be scared, of feeling all of this for a girl. But somehow she wasn’t. She just needed to learn more. Know more. Feel more.

“I don’t think that…” she started, but you only looked at her and she was a goner, the words dying in her throat. Her best friend seemed pretty entertained by the situation. Abby the saint Anderson was finally giving in to having some fun, and it was all because of you. She didn’t know if she should be happy about it or be absolutely jealous.

On the other hand, Abby was absolutely haunted, haunted by your fingers dealing with the drug, rolling up the blunt and your tongue sneaking in between your lips to lick it seal. She felt that tingling on her pussy, although she tried to soothe it off by going over the Genesis.

“Done.“ you smiled, and Dina handed you her lighter so you could light the blunt up.

Abby looked closely as your lips wrapped around the joint and how your cheeks hollowed as you took a hit. You let out a pleased sigh when the smoke filled your lungs. “Fuck.” you loved it. The high, the dizziness, the numbing of your limbs. “Williams, let me marry you. I’ll make a good wife, I promise.” she let out a laughter as she reached out for the blunt, which you obviously handed her.

“Sorry sweetheart, you know I love you, but you’d be too much for me to handle.” you fakely pouted when the blunt was back on your hands.

“Well, it wouldn’t have worked anyways.” you shrugged, taking another hit with a playful smile. “You are not my type...” Abby’s breath hitched when your eyes found hers. “What do you say pretty girl? Are you in?” you offered her the blunt, and after a little hesitation, her fingers stole it from yours. You noticed that she had beautiful hands, soft, with large and thick fingers that would surely look better pushing inside your…

“How should I…?” she seemed scared of it, holding it away from her as if it were a deadly weapon. And maybe it was.

“Right. A saint. Probably haven’t even smoked a cigarette.” you said, scooting closed to her ‘till your thigh was flushed against hers, fingers around her wrist to guide the joint to her lips. She felt her heart skip a beat when her eyes fell to your chest, which stood dangerously close to her own. “Okay. So you put it on your lips and then you suck, but don’t just leave the smoke in your mouth, it has to fill your lungs, so as you suck you need to inhale as deep as you can. If your throat burns, then that means you are doing it okay.” she was following your words and doing as you told her. “But don’t do it too hard or you’ll…” but maybe she was going too fast, since she started to choke on the smoke. “Choke.” you were quick to give her back pats.

“Are you okay?” Lily inquired her, handing her a cup of alcohol. Maybe it wasn’t the best option to go for, since alcohol and weed actually were a strong combination for a beginner, but it was the only thing around.

“Aw she’s fine…” Dina laughed. “You aren’t a beginner if you don’t choke on your first hit.”

“On god.” Ellie teasingly said, sending a kiss to the sky.

She shivered when your fingers dug in her hair, comforting her as her coughing ceased. “Are you okay, pretty girl?” she nodded, too lost on the feeling of your touch. “Wanna try again?” she looked at you as if you were crazy, what made you let out a laughter. “Don’t look at me like that, here, let me help you.” you urged her, taking the blunt from her hand and raising it to your lips to take a deep hit. Her breath hitched when the hand that stood in her hair pushed her near your face. Her eyes widened and her pulse spiked up when your breath hit her own, the weed and alcohol on it making her feel dizzy. Or maybe the fact that your lips were mere inches away from hers was. She really couldn’t know.

Neither of you noticed the way your friends were staring at the two of you.

The hand that held the joint went to her cheek, thumb pressing against her bottom lip as you pulled from it. “Open.” she was quick to do what you’ve asked her to. “Now breathe in for me, will you?” she nodded, and as you blew the smoke on her lips, she took it in. The burning was still there, in the back of her throat, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been the first time. You pulled away with a satisfied smile on your lips, seeing her hold her breath as much as she could —like she had seen you do—. “Good girl.” she almost whined at you words, not understanding why they had had such a great impact on her. There was something in the way you’ve said it that made her shake in your hands. “Now, that wasn’t that bad, was it?” she shook her head, fighting the urge to lean on your touch, on the fingers that now massaged her scalp after a third hit from your lips.

“Woah, are we… Interrupting something here?” Dina was the first to break the silence, making Lily and Ellie laugh.

“The room suddenly feels too hot…” the auburn haired said, fanning her face and making your eyes practically send her daggers. “Just saying…” she rose her hands in surrender.

Abby was feeling her limbs tingle as the clock ticked, eyelids heavy and and mind fuzzy. You seemed to notice. “You okay, pretty girl?” she looked at you through half-lidded eyes, a smile tugging on her lips.

“Feels amazing.” she muttered, and all of you laughed at her reaction.

“Ellie, I think we’ve just created a monster.” you mocked her, but she just seemed happy to see her best friend so relaxed, and having fun.

She was about to answer you, but suddenly the girls that had asked her about having some crystal before peeked through the closed door. She understood what they had come looking for just by taking a look at them. She tapped the arms of the sofa before standing up, grabbing the attention of the group.

“Ladies, I need to go and make some business.” she announced with a smirk. “Do you mind if I leave Abby with you for a little bit?”

You opened your mouth to answer but before you could Lily and Dina were standing up.

“Yeah, we’re gonna— Lily needs to— Bathroom.” she simply said before she could grab the curly haired’s hand, her lips on her neck as they left the room, Ellie right behind.

It was then when you realized that only you and Abby were left behind. Alone. She seemed to realize too, since her body seemed to stiffen up

“Well, I guess we’re alone now, pretty girl.” you said, taking another hit of the blunt. You were probably overdoing it already, but you knew you could handle it. She nodded, trying not to show the way her hands were shaking. It was a really strange combination of feelings really: She was high. She was excited about her first party. She was nervous about being near someone as pretty as you… “What are you thinking about, hm? What’s going on inside that little head of yours?” Oh, and she was completely caught up in the way that your fingers kept brushing though her hair, in the way your eyes never left her.

“Nothing.” she sputtered out, what made you smile. You scooted a little bit closer, getting on your side so you could face her.

“Tell me, Abby…” you started. “What other things are there that you would like to do?” you bit your bottom lip, the fingers on her hair sliding down to her neck, where you connected the moles on her skin. Her eyes were on your red lips, on your chest, on your thighs… God, she felt impure.

“I… Uhm…” you decided to give her a little extra push, your chest almost brushing against hers as you leaned in, blowing the smoke on her face. She was taken aback, feeling the heat of your body against her making her pussy throb on her pants. She looked away from you, cheeks red and mind fuzzy, although her eyes found their way back to you when your palm pressed against her cheek, leading her back to you.

“Where are you looking at, hm? Eyes on me, Abby…” you muttered, your breath colliding with her own as you leaned in. “How pretty…” you muttered, thumb brushing against her bottom lip, pulling, getting a shaky breath as an answer. “Such a pretty face and yet no one has ever kissed you before? What a waste…” You weren’t stupid, you had noticed the way the blonde stared at you, expecting doe eyes, lingering blue shining above the red… “Such a pretty pretty girl.” she whined as your lips brushed against hers, teasing her, pulling her in to the sin she had learned to avoid. The sin she had made herself avoid.

“y/n…” she let out a short breath, hoarse voice only a whisper as she leaned in ever further, trying to pursue the plump of your lips and the electrifying feeling that shook her body anytime you were near.

“What is it, hm?” you smirked, and she whined when you pulled from her hair to keep her from getting any closer. “Want me to kiss you Abby?” you inquired. You liked the girl, you wanted the girl, and you were selfish about what you wanted, but you were no monster.

She nodded, tongue sneaking in between her lips to dampen them before they’d fall apart in a plead. “Please…”

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head and making her cry out. “Nuh-uh… You can do better than that, baby. Use your words. Let me hear you ask for it.” she whimpered, eyes on your red lips as her own cheeks flushed, probably due to embarrassment, or the alcohol that travelled through her veins, or the fact that she wanted it, you, so bad she felt like dying…

“Please, kiss me…” she whispered, almost inaudible under the music playing from the party. “Please…” and when her eyes met yours, when you saw that linger in the blue of them, the need… You were quick to pull her in, leaving the blunt aside as your lips met hers. God, you’d been wanting to do that since she had stepped in the room. Your core ached when she moaned in your mouth, her hands shaking at her sides as her eyes squeezed shut, what made you laugh as you pulled away, shaking your head. You quickly threw one of your legs over her lap, straddling her muscled thighs and making her eyes widen, muscles incredible stiff below you. “Come on, Abby, why don’t you relax on me a little?” you left a couple of wet kisses on her neck, making her sigh under your touch and letting your hands guide hers to your ass. “You can touch me, I don’t bite.” you amusedly said, teasing her before you would lean in once again to meet her lips, nor before a “Unless you want me to…” she was shaking when you kissed her again, breath hitching and a moan leaving her lips when you started to rock your hips against her. She was already wet. So wet… “Why don’t you open your mouth for me, hm?” you muttered against her mouth, your thumb pulling on her bottom lip. She did as you said, what made you smile. “Yeah, just like that, good girl…” she moaned when your tongue slid right inside her mouth, swirling around hers. Her fingers dug on your ass, making you hum into the kiss as you pulled on her hair. Her jaw fell slack as you ground a little bit harder against the crotch of her pants and against her aching cunt, which throbbed.

When you pulled away, her glasses had fogged up due to your wet kisses.

“y/n…” she whimpered as your lips trailed down her throat, harshly sucking hickeys on her skin and hands bucking you against her. She felt dizzy, high in a drug under your name, delirious even. This felt so good, you on top of her, dry humping her, kissing her… She never wanted it to stop.

“Shit… That’s it.” you said, getting off her lap —hearing a whine fall from her lips— and pulling from her hand so she could get up. “Let’s go.” you were fast to leave the stoner room and start to drag her upstairs, getting her in in the first empty room you could find and locking the door behind your back before you’d kiss her again. Seeing your lipstick all smeared on her lips made you want to devour her.

She opened her mouth for you, just like you had taught her, stumbling backwards in between groans as you led her towards the bed. She let out a surprised gasp when you pushed her on the chest, making her sit down. “What… What are you doing?” she inquired you as you kneeled in front of her, breathing strained and lips swollen. Her blonde hair was all messed up, as well as her clothes, and her pussy hurt so much under her pants she couldn’t help but wish you were back kissing her, rubbing against her and making it better. She was high, and needy, and the sight of you down on your knees with your hands brushing her thighs was absolutely not making the pain go away any time soon.

“Praying.” you smiled at her as you unbuckled her pants and pushed them down her thighs along with her underwear, your bottom lip in between your teeth.

“W-Wait!” she tried to stop you, overwhelmed by being so exposed in front of you, but all that embarrassment left her mind when you pushed her legs apart and left a little peck on her clit. Her pussy was pretty, blonde mound and pinkish dripping folds soaked for you. You smiled when she let out a load moan at the fat strip you made up her pussy, taking in all her slick, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Your pussy was drenched, throbbing at her moans and whines.

“Such a pretty girl with a pretty pussy...” she whimpered when you licked clean her arousal off her slit. “Does that feel good, hm? Like my tongue?” she nodded, eyes squeezed shut when you gave it a long stripe from her hole to her clit before sucking it inside your mouth. You moaned against her, ‘cause she tasted so good… And you wanted to fuck your face on her pussy so bad that it had you thrusting your hips down on your heels to look for some relief.

“Oh, God… Ohgodohgodohgod…” you chuckled as you let her go with a pop, spitting on your hand before your fingers would circle her entrance, making her thighs clench and a moan leave her lips.

“No God here, baby, ‘s just me.” she whimpered when your mouth went back to her, slowly pushing one finger into her tight walls. Her fingers unconsciously laced on your hair, making you hum against her clit and her whine. She felt like chocking with her spit. She has never felt something like this. How could this feel so good? This was supposed to be a sin. She was supposed to be taken away by Satan to hell and burn for the eternity. And yet there she was, feeling like stepping in Heaven.

She seemed extremely sensitive on her clit, where you teased her with your tongue, making her moan and whimper as you curled your finger against her g spot. There was this pressure, this heat building up in her lower stomach that made her head feel all fuzzy and her limbs weak as you pushed your ring finger inside.

“y/n…” she whined, her pussy throbbing around your fingers and fully leaking. You could feel she was about to cum, and its speed and her poor stamina only made her cuter.

“Poor baby… Is it too much? Is my mouth too much for you, hm? Want me to stop?” you inquired her, entertained by her slack jaw and glossed over eyes. She was gone. Completely dumbified. You’d love to see how she’d react once she was thrusting against you, maybe fucking into you with a fake cock… You were dripping down your thighs at the thought of it.

She shook her head, the hand on your hair only tightening. “No! Please, don’t stop, please? Pleasepleaseplease…” she begged, moaning loudly when you went back to fucking her g spot. “Feels so good, so good, please…” she was a babbling mess, unable to think, desperate to reach something that she was stumbling towards, something new, something unknown…

You bit down on your bottom lip. “Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum on my mouth? Gonna give me your first orgasm, hm?” her eyes rolled to the back of her head when she saw you stuck your tongue out, drool falling onto her pussy and clit and connecting it to your mouth through a string of spit. She was sure that you were a succubus, a devil in disguise that had come to haunt her and led her away from God. And honestly? She’d let you do it. ‘Cause just how beautiful you looked with her clit in your mouth, the sight of your glossed and red eyes staring up at her as you sucked her clean with all your red lipstick smeared all over her pussy and folds… Fuck. Simply… Fuck. She was so close to reaching that feverish feeling that had her shaking on her spot that she started to moan and whimper more loudly.

“Please, please, please…” she didn’t even know what she was begging for, her strained pleading making you start to lap at her faster, sucking on her clit harder. “Oh god, something’s gonna… I’m gonna…” she was a whimpering mess, eyes watering to the overwhelming sensation of her first orgasm, which was about to crumble her to pieces.

“Come on pretty girl, let go for me. Let me have it, hm? Let me taste you.” you said before kitten licking her clit, fucking her with your fingers. That’s all it took for her to fill your mouth up. Her orgasm hit her like a wave. So hard she was gasping for air, as if she were drowning under water. Her sight went completely white, mind blank and ears ringing as her body relaxed under your touch. When she came back from it, you were cleaning her up with your tongue, swallowing her warm cum and caressing her thighs in comfort. You hummed at the taste, sucking your fingers clean. “You okay, baby?” you inquired her as her eyes fluttered open, glossy and teary, pupils fully blown. She shivered when your lips latched to the skin of her hip bone, sucking hardly enough to leave a bruise, making her fingers lace harder in your hair.

“y/n…” she whimpered, feeling how your lips slowly trailed up her lower stomach, your hands getting rid of the buttons of her shirt as you sat back down on her lap. You were starting to believe it to be your favorite seat ever.

“Did that felt good baby?” you smirked, loving the fucked out look on her face and her dizzy nodding. “Look at you, so fucked out you can’t even speak. You liked cumming in my mouth, huh?” you teased her, making her moan as your hands sneaked up her unbuttoned shirt. “Want a taste?” you whispered on her ear, nibbling on her jaw and making her gasp, her pussy was already getting wet again. So eager… “Open up for me.” you whispered against her lips when she nodded. And she did. In a heartbeat.

Your tongue was quick to push inside her mouth, both of your moaning in the kiss as your hips rocked harder against her own. She was shaking when you pushed her hands from your waist to your breasts, she groaned when you squeezed hers to make a domino effect and urge her to touch you just how she wanted. “Tell me Abby, what is it that you want?” you inquired her as your breaths mixed, sucking on her bottom lip. Her eyes squeezed shut when you went back to sucking on her neck. “What do you want to do now?”

“I want… I want to make you feel good.” she breathed out, glossy brown eyes full of lust when staring into your own. She wanted to make you feel the way you had made her feel, better, if that could be possible…

You smiled at her words. “Oh yeah?” you bit your bottom lip brushing her messy hair backwards and playfully tugging on it, making her take a shaky breath as she nodded. “You wanna make me feel good, Abby?” her skin grew on goosebumps when you guided one of her hands down your body, ‘till her fingertips got lost underneath your dress and in between your legs. You moaned when her palm cupped your clothed cunt. She felt her heart skip a beat when you started to rock your hips against it. “Gonna let me teach you?” she nodded once again as you pushed your dress over your head, tongue coming out to lick her lips, eager to pull out of you more of those beautiful sounds. “Good girl…” you couldn’t know if she had moaned due to the amount of beautiful and flushed skin on display just for her or for your praise, but, at the moment, it truly didn’t matter, not when she stared at you like that.

She felt like fainting when she felt you, underneath the lace of your panties, her fingertips against your soaked cunt, so soaked you dripped on her fingers. “There.” you whined when you pushed her hand upwards, ‘till her fingertips bumped against that little bundle of nerves that could make you cum over and over again with just a little bit of stimulation. “Fuck, move your fingers around it, baby.” you instructed, moaning when she did, what only made her crave you more. “Yeah just like that.” you rocked your hips against her touch, pressing open mouthed kisses on her chest. “Now use your fingers. Inside.” you muttered on her neck when you pushed her hand down towards your hole. “Inside, please.”

Abby was lost. Lost in the new experience, in the new knowledge, but most of all, lost in the way your eyebrows knitted together when she first touched you under your underwear, or the way your mouth was falling open now that one of her fingers was fully inside of you, up to the knuckle. And Abby knew she was a goner when she found herself swearing. And she didn’t fucking swore. “Fuck.”

You were clamping around her finger when you pulled her in for a hungry kiss, teeth clashing and tongues swirling around each other as she started to pump in and out of you, making you moan and push on her touch. “Another one. Put in another one, please Abby.” you gasped out, and she followed, willing to do anything for you, anything as well as you kept moaning, and kissing her, and begging her for more, and… “Fuck, just like that…” you cried out.

Her pussy was throbbing like crazy, leaking in between her thighs as she took in just how… Heavenly you looked. On your black lace underwear, smeared red lipstick, messy hair, glossy eyes… You looked like an angel, no, like a god.

A god she would die to worship.

And she surely felt like cumming when her fingers slightly curved and hit that spot inside you that pulled out a whimper from your mouth. She wanted more. More of you falling apart. So she curved them once again, and again, and… But before she could know it, she found herself being pushed and laying on her back. “Wh—What?” she tried and ask. Had she done something wrong? If she had… But her voice died out when you were taking off your bra, and she felt like choking. They were perfect — it’s not like she had ever seen tits before, but if she had she would have thought the same—. They looked so soft… And your nipples, erect from lust… She just wanted to suck and bite on them.

She moaned when you rocked against her hips, the lace of your panties rubbing against her thigh. “y/n… Shit.” she could feel the dampness on the cloth, the heartbeat of your pussy against her.

“Too much, pretty girl?” you smirked, grabbing her wrists to lead her hands towards your breasts. Her big hands made you sigh when her fingers felt the plump of them, thumbs rolling your nipples…

“y/n…” she breathed out when you leaned in to kiss her neck and chest over her bra, marking her all up as she whimpered below you, loosing herself on the way your hips thrusted against her, your lips on her skin, your warm own in between her fingers… On the way your bare cunt felt against her skin once you’ve gotten rid of your panties, slick coating her skin as you slid against her. The two of you moaned before you could find yourself to hum in answer, eyes meeting her glossy and dazed ones. “More…” she whimpered, needing more, more of you. She noticed the hesitation in your eyes before her lips parted once again, “Please…” her hips thrusting upwards against your core, making you groan.

“So pretty begging…” you muttered before kissing her so deep and wet that she was left shivering.“You want to fuck me, hm? Want to fuck me, Abby?” you teased, pressing down against her and making her moan as she nodded. You moved in between her thighs sliding your fingers in between her lips.

“Yes, yes, yes… Pleasepleaseplease… Can I fuck you? Please, y/n, oh please. Let me fuck you, please…” tears swelled her eyes at the feeling of your pussy lining up with hers, mound barely touching, pressing down, teasing her with every false thrust of your hips. She needed to make you cum, needed you…

“How can I say no if you ask so nicely, hm?” you whispered against her lips before you’d push one of your thighs on her lap to push yourself against her, moaning at the feeling. It felt so painfully good you found yourself sinking your nails on her abs, moaning. “Shit, so wet…”

“Fuck.” she breathed out, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” you felt so warm, so wet… Her fingers dug on your hips to keep you still when your clits met. By the way she was throbbing against you and how her breath sounded strained, you knew she was trying her best to not cum. So you waited it out, both of you did. A moan left her lips when your started to slightly grind against her, you biting down on your lip as she whimpered. “y/n…”

You slowly rose ‘till only your lips touched before slamming your hips back down onto her heat, moaning when your clits met and hearing her groan. “You like that, pretty girl? Your virgin pussy seems to, dripping like crazy for me.” you teased her, chuckling slightly when she nodded —too pussy drunk already— before starting to fuck yourself against her like the two of you needed.

And as your pace quickened, the more moans, pants and whines left both your lips.

“Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord. Forgi—“ she was a babbling mess as she watched you thrust against her sopping cunt —incoherent, moaning and whimpering, words becoming lost—, the sound of your juices filling the room along with the slapping of sweaty skin. You chuckled at her messed up appearance and crooked glasses.

“He can’t listen to you now, baby. Your moans suffocate it.” you smirked when she let out a whimper as you fucked her harder, kissing her neck and biting down on the skin. It was all so overwhelming… Your velvet lips leaving red stains all over her body, the prettiest tits bouncing up and down with every thrust, your soft moans and sighs of pleasure against her ear, the way you ground your puffy clit on hers, the way your warm and soaked pussy slid against hers… It was too much, too much that the blonde could feel tears stinging her eyes, threatening to spill over her flushed cheeks.

It surely was too much, but at the same time not enough.

She whined when you pushed yourself up and away, flopping on your elbows in front of her under her confused gaze. You gave her a playful smile before parting your legs, letting your pulsing wet hole show only for her. Her dilated pupils latched onto it, not letting go as one of your hands came to it to spread your sticky lips. She felt her mouth water, gulping loudly. “Why don’t you come fuck me like you’ve been wanting since this afternoon, hm? Don’t need to be a good girl with me, Abby.” she was quick to sit up and crawl her way over to you, enchanted by your sweet voice as if some enchantment had fogged her mind. She was even quicker to discard her glasses aside, unable to see no longer through the glass.

You gasped for air when she pushed in between your legs, and before you knew it, he was pushing her pussy against you in a quick and harsh thrust, making you grip and sink your nails on her broad shoulder blades as she started to relentlessly fuck you.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you moaned on her ear. “That’s it, shit.” you cursed in between heavy breaths, hearing her grunt.

She was hard, fast and needy, now being you the mumbling mess as you tugged on her hair and her lips sucked on your tits, biting your nipples and bruising the skin of your neck and chest, hands grabbing anywhere and everywhere, kneading your soft skin as she moaned against it. “Fuck Abby, that’s it, baby…” your body was buried and shook on the sheets with every new thrust, sliding up and down the duvet. She was fucking the brains out of you.

You gasped for air when one of her hands gripped your neck, pinning you to the bed as her hips harshly clashed against yours. You smirked when she groaned at your wetness, the feeling of your cunt sliding against hers. “I knew you had it in you. Not that of a good girl anymore, huh?” she whined when your fingers tugged harder on her hair, hips staggering at the pleasure as her eyes squeezed shut. She was in a daze. “You like that pretty girl?” you teased, moaning when her grip around your neck tightened and she gave you a extremely harsh thrust that pressed just on the right spot, making your thighs shake and a needy and loud moan leave your lips, crying out for her to fuck you harder, to fuck you just like that.

You could feel the coil on your lower stomach, every new hit on your clit making you get closer and closer to that high and making your walls clench. “Shit, y/n…” her lips parted in a whimper, her hand leaving your neck to take a hold on your hips and seek more of those pretty moans of yours… She dragged you against her pussy with every push of her hips, pulling from you to reach your highs.

“Abby i’m close, fuck, i’m so close baby, gonna cum all over your pussy, shit.” you were choking on your words.

Your moans got muffled when she kissed you, her tongue pushing inside your mouth as her thrusts lost their rhythm, too close to cumming on your sopping cunt. “y/n, y/n, y/n…” she could feel yourself throbbing against her, your orgasm approaching right beside hers. She wouldn’t last, you knew that. “fuck, ah, y/n I’m gonna…, I’m—“

One of your hands came up to her face, your thumb pressing against her bottom lip as she rested her forehead against yours, her breath fanning over your face. “Cum on me, please Abby, please…” you breathed out, eager, begging, gone. Her eyebrows knitted together as her lips fell on a moan, pussy throbbing as she thrusted against you one, two, three more times before painting your folds in white, making you moan at the feeling. Droplets of her cum were falling on your thighs and the sheets every new thrust, whimpering due to the stimulation but still eager to make you come, to make you feel good.

“Oh shitshitshitshit…” you muttered, your hips following hers as you felt yourself seconds away from your own release.

“Cum for me, y/n, please? Please, y/n, please…” she begged, driving you over the edge and making you cum so hard you saw stars behind your closed eyes.

She groaned when she felt your cum mixing with her own, coating her pussy.

The two of you stayed still as you came down from your highs. You were sticky with cum and sweat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to push her away, and she didn’t seem to despise the idea of holding you for a little longer.

Now Abby understood. She finally understood how even a creature as perfect as Lucifer couldn’t had helped falling to the deep depths of hell. All it took was the perfect sin, the perfect poison.

And Abby was sure to had found hers in you.

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honeyangelkiwi · 2 months

Text

Lazy Sunday Morning | H.S.

Welcome to my tumblr debut and only bc my bestie said I should.

Plot: Harry wakes up needy

Sexual content: unprotected bed dancing, cockwarming, small breeding kink, 18+

Word count: 1.4k, just short and sweet

The sun was hardly peaking up past the horizon when Harry woke up. He didn’t want to open his eyes because of how exhausted he was. The week was a busy one and this was the one day he could sleep in without any interruptions. The pit of his stomach and the tingle in his thighs woke him though. He could feel how hard his cock was without having to look underneath the blankets that covered him and his girlfriend.

He laid naked, like he did every night, hating the thought of clothes restricting him in his own home and his own bed. However, his body temperature was rising rapidly and the small shift of his body to make himself more comfortable caused a small gasp to slip past his lips. Just the blanket moving slightly against is cock was enough to leave him breathless.

His girlfriend laid tucked into his side. He had an arm wrapped around her and her head was tucked into his chest. He could feel the small breaths of air leaving her lips. It would have been sweet, and he would have adored how cute she was when she slept, except he couldn’t. He couldn’t because those small puffs of air were hitting his nipples and it was driving him mad.

With a hard cock and nipples peaked he brought his head down to her neck. “Baby…” he whispered into her ear and turned slightly so his body was facing hers and he was no longer laying on his back. A deep groan escaped his lips when his cock brushed against her soft stomach.

She stirred a bit, but still was not completely awake. Harry brought his hand up to her face and pushed her hair away. “Baby, wake up, please.” He ends up moaning into her ear. He couldn’t help himself. He needed some kind of friction, and so he had started slowly rutting his hips against her to get some. His hand slides into her hair and he grips it a little too tightly when the head of his cock hits her belly button ring. The cold sensation of the metal felt like too much when he was so hard and so worked up this early.

He starts pressing deep kisses into her neck to keep coaxing her awake. Eventually, her eyes pop open and a slow smirk spreads across her face. “What’s gotten into you, love?” She questions him. He isn’t normally up at this hour on a sunday morning. “Need you, now.” He whimpers into her neck. He was still rutting his hips against her and moaning into her neck as he started sucking a bit harder to leave marks.

Both of them were still tired, but wanted nothing more than that lazy sunday morning sex they don’t have often. “Okay, babe.” She says into his mouth after she pulled his face out from her neck to kiss his lips. She looks into his eyes that lay low with dark lust and tiredness. They both have those lazy smiles on their faces as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her lips. There is no rush, just slow, languid movements as they savor the feeling they’re drowning in.

Never detaching his mouth from hers he rolls them over so he is hovering over her, keeping his weight on his forearms beside her head. He nestles himself between her legs and groans and how warm and slick her thighs are. “Fuck, baby. Were you dreaming about me? Dreaming about how well my cock fits inside of you?” He gasps out as he brings a hand down to grab his length and tease her. “Yeah, dreamt of how good you make me feel.”

Harry teases himself and her a little bit longer, running his tip between her folds and circling it around her clit. Small gasps and pleas fall from her lips. He looks down into her eyes as he finally pushes himself in, not stopping until there’s no room left inside of her. Pausing, he brings his mouth back down to hers before pulling out and slowly pushing back in. Her mouth parts and he takes the chance to dip his tongue in, exploring as if it was his first time.

He keeps the same slow and lazy pace. Pulling out and pushing back in with a rhythm that leaves them open mouthed against each other. The only sounds coming from them are small moans and gasps for breath as they move their bodies together to chase the high they both need. She brings her hands up to the nape of his neck, grasping at the hairs there tightly. “Harder, please baby. I need it harder.” Her question is answered quickly with a sharper thrust from Harry.

“You’re taking me so well, so early. God, I love how you feel in the morning. Gonna stay like this when we’re done. Not leaving until I’m ready.” He starts mumbling. He’s so lost in how good he feels and he keeps going.” Your pussy was made for me, baby girl. Can’t ever get enough of it.” His thrusts become deeper the more he talks. “Gonna want to wake up like this forever, gonna make you my wife.” A sharp shiver runs down her back and a breathy gasp falls from her lips at that testament.

He hikes her leg up around his waist a bit higher and the loud moan she lets out tells him he’s hitting her sweet spot. He doesn’t fuck into her any faster. He keeps his pace slow, but drills his hips deeper and harder. She can feel the tension building up into her stomach quickly now. “Please…” She gasps out, and Harry knows what she needs. He brings a hand down between them and starts softly rubbing circles into her clit.

She’s clenching around him uncontrollably now. He can feel how tight she’s getting. She’s squeezing his cock so hard that she’s almost pushing him out. His pace picks up now, thrusting into her faster now that the ball in the pit of his stomach is finally about to burst. His head is in her neck and he’s moaning and gasping for air. “Cum for me baby. I need you to cum right fucking now.” He groans and bites down into her neck.

Her mouth parts in a silent moan, unable to form words as her high barrels into her. Her hips and legs are shaking and her fingers are gripping his hair so tight she thinks she may begin to pull it out as she soaks his cock. He doesn’t stop though. He keeps thrusting into her and rubbing her clit until his own orgasm washes over him.

He slams in one more time and stills his hips inside of her. He pushes himself impossibly deep, wanting to feel her milk every last drop of cum he has for her. The moan that pushes past his mouth is pornographic. His cock twitches as rope after rope of cum spurts into her warm cunt and he shudders at the feeling.

Once they’ve both come down from their highs he pulls his face from her neck and smiles down looking into her bright eyes. “I’m still tired, baby.” He whispers as he lowers his lips to hers to peck them softly. “Me too, get off so we can go back to sleep.” She giggles into his mouth and brings her hands to his chest to push him off.

“No, I told you I was staying like this.” The smirk on his face widens before a cheeky smile pops up and dimples show. “Gonna keep my cock right here, nice and warm.” She raises an eyebrow, but can’t help the giddy feeling she has in her stomach. She’s not ready to feel empty yet. Holding on to her he rolls over so they’re laying on their sides and she has a leg draped over his waist.

She nestles her face into his neck and inhales the slight scent of sweat on his skin. “That’s fine with me, love having you inside of me.” She whispers as the tiredness starts to rapidly fall upon her. “Need to make sure you end up with a belly full of my babies.” He says and kisses her forehead before letting his eyes shut and sleep fall across them.

#harry #harrystyles #styles #fanfic #harry!smut #oneshot #harry styles #harry styles smut #smut #harry edward styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot

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