#this is the longest sheet by far

[loganwritesprobably]

Peter Hale Character Sheet

Context: Hales survived the fire AU

TW: Suicide attempt, Depressive thoughts, mention of vomit

Lots of headcanons in this one including my original Hale family tree!

𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂. 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚎

"ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏᴍʙɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴀʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ."

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ʙᴀꜱɪᴄ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ

ɴᴀᴍᴇ: Peter Sebastian Hale

ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ: N/A

ᴀɢᴇ: 33

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ: Cis male

ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴꜱ: He/him

ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ: Bisexual

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ: October 27th

ᴢᴏᴅɪᴀᴄ ꜱɪɢɴ: Scorpio

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•+⋅

ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ: 5’10”

ꜱᴋɪɴ ᴛᴏɴᴇ: Fair

ʜᴀɪʀ: Brunette

ᴇʏᴇꜱ: Blue

ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ: N/A

ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴍᴏᴅꜱ: N/A

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ʙᴀᴄᴋꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

Peter was never really sure what he wanted to do as a career. He mostly flew through his subjects at school, taking on extra study at home into druidic practices out of pure interest. He never found much of it particularly stimulating. As a result of this, he tested out of high school early, finishing a whole year before his peers (yes he rubs this in the face of Harris, who was the year above him in school). So, with an attitude like that and money to burn, Peter pursued multiple bachelor's degrees. 

He has a bachelor's in literature and one in law. He's always thought he should go back to school just to keep himself occupied but the more trouble Beacon Hills gets itself into, the more his hackles rise and his need to be close to home to protect his family only becomes stronger. He spent a large amount of his childhood babysitting, cooking and cleaning, taking care of not just his own children but also the children of the neighbourhood. Who was he to refuse playdates, particularly when local parents were in need of a helping hand?

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ᴄᴀʀᴇᴇʀ

Peter has dabbled in a few different fields of work, from working with his degrees to menial work for family businesses, but nothing seems to stick. He has his hobbies but he doubts any of them could suffice as a career, like his enjoyment for cooking (but he could never work in a kitchen).

One business that he seems to always come back to, is his interior design work. He only takes clients that he is genuinely interested in working with, and makes sure to do his work to the finest detail perfectly. Clients don't always react well to working with a middle aged man, but he loves being able to prove them wrong. He only does a few jobs each year, whenever the desire strikes, but he enjoys it.

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ʜᴏʙʙɪᴇꜱ

༓ Collecting old cars ༓ Collecting old books ༓ Interior design ༓ Language learning

Peter is a man with a lot of spare time and a lot of money.

His wealth of course lends itself to more expensive hobbies but he has never done anything you'd consider.. tasteless. He doesn't own boats, he doesn't 'flex' as he's heard the pups call it. He keeps it to himself. He owns a warehouse out in Beacon County where he stores his small car collection, something he hopes to sink more money into in future. 

He also collects old books. Books on the supernatural, on the old gods, old literature, first editions, books about magic forgotten by time, on druidic practices, anything bound with leather or cloth that costs over $50. He loves his small library (he owns not only his penthouse apartment but also one of the apartments on the floor below for just this purpose). Sometimes he wonders if he should buy a regular house.

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ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ

☾ Romance novels ☾ Theatre ☾ Homecooked meals (especially if he had a hand in the cooking) ☾ Baked goods ☾ Tea ☾ Lavender

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ᴅɪꜱʟɪᴋᴇꜱ

☽ His father ☽ Bananas ☽ Tennis ☽ Supernatual movies/books/tv shows

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ᴀꜱᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

His aspirations now pertain mostly to his pups. He wants to see them all graduate, and end up in places in their life where they're happy. He wants to help them in any way that he can. He has considered taking in some younger pups, adopting them, but he doesn't think Talia would approve. Some small part of him also aspires to finally escape from Talia's grip, but another part of him feels guilty for even thinking it. That's his sister.

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*ꜰᴇᴀʀꜱ*

༓ Losing his siblings/niblings ༓ Hunters ༓ Discovery

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ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘꜱ

ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ

ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ

➼ Lincoln Hale ➼ Deceased

ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

➼ Lillian Hale ➼ Deceased

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ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ

➼ Talia Hale ➼ Living

ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ-ɪɴ-ʟᴀᴡ

➼ Nathaniel Hale ➼ Living

ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

➼ Laura Hale ➼ Living

ɴᴇᴘʜᴇᴡ

➼ Derek Hale ➼ Living

ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

➼ Cora Hale ➼ Living

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ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ

➼ Mae Hale ➼ Living

ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ-ɪɴ-ʟᴀᴡ

➼ Stuart Hale ➼ Living

ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

➼ Lucy Hale ➼ Living

ɴᴇᴘʜᴇᴡ

➼ Charlie Hale ➼ Missing, presumed deceased

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ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

➼ George Hale ➼ Living

ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

➼ Iris Hale ➼ Living

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ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ

➼ Celia Hale ➼ Living

ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ-ɪɴ-ʟᴀᴡ

➼ Brooke Hale ➼ Living

ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

➼ Sophie Hale ➼ Living

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ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

➼ Malia Tate ➼ Living

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Peter Hale is a family man. He was close with both of his parents for different reasons, and had special, unique relationships with each of his siblings. Though, this changed the older he became. Talia was his idol, Mae taught him control, George taught him how to fight and Celia was his best friend. When his siblings began having children, they became his whole world.

Out of all his siblings, he has given the most bottles, changed the most diapers and soothed the most scraped knees. It got to a point where some of his nieces and nephews would come to him with their problems over their own parents. It wasn't that they neglected their children, they didn't do that by any measure, (except for Talia, though Peter hated to admit it), he was just always there for them. Their parents worked, Uncle Peter took them to the park, their parents got home late, Uncle Peter cooked them dinner, their parents were too busy to make all their events, Uncle Peter went to every last dance recital, concert and basketball game.

He often got curious looks from teachers and parents, but Peter didn't care. He was there for his nieces and nephews, no matter what they needed. He'd pick them up from school and walk them home or wait for them when one of their parents was going to be late. One of Laura's teachers once asked if Peter was okay, she was worried he was caring for his nieces and nephews alone, but he only laughed. Of course, he wasn't, but also of course he would if he needed to. They're family.

Peter was an accident. It’s no secret in his family. At first, it had been something said by his mother, she wanted no secrets kept from him, and it was something to boast about. Some children were hated for being accidents, but Peter was loved despite it. When his mother died, his father changed that. Sometimes, in the cold, darkness of winter nights, Peter was sure he could hear his father muttering that his mother’s death was his fault.

When his eldest niece Laura was born, he was just five years old. He didn’t entirely understand what had happened except now he had someone new to look after and play with. He would sit in her nursery to play with his toys. This was when Talia still cared, so she would gently remind him to be quiet near the baby and to be gentle with her when he cuddled her. He was always gentle. He wouldn’t dream of hurting the baby.

He was seven when Derek was born, so he was old enough to understand everything and to want to help as much as he could. Though he wasn’t trusted with the baby just yet, this is when Talia’s care began to wander and so he was told that to help he could look after Laura. Peter agreed. He would sit with Laura in Derek’s nursery, and they would play and do colouring, just making sure the baby was okay. Derek had been born so close to Peter’s birthday that he had joked that Derek was his birthday present, him being born was like being given another friend.

When Iris was adopted he was eight. He welcomed her just the same, trusted slightly more with her than he had been with Derek when he’d first been born, but George also took more care with his daughter than Talia did with hers, so Peter felt less need to watch over her. Sometimes Derek was left crying for a long time, so Peter and Laura would climb into his crib, Iris rarely cried. She was a happy baby.

He was fourteen when Charlie was born, and then Cora. By now, he was more than just good with kids and so he took to them both like a duck to water. He loved them dearly. Laura was nine so she helped Peter where she could, though he made sure that she never did as much as he did. She was too little, not like Peter. Talia by this point had lost almost all of her interest in her children, so Peter took over. Not like Nathaniel had ever cared.

When Charlie went missing, it consumed Peter. He was just sixteen. He spent an entire year looking for him. It became his job, his life. Every morning, he ate breakfast so he'd have the energy to look for his nephew, he ate lunch so he wouldn't crash, he slept so he'd be rested enough to use his senses to their full potential. Then, one day, Talia told him to stop. They had quite the argument about it, Peter was desperate to find his nephew and Talia claimed Mae was more upset by his trying because she couldn't mourn her loss. So, he stopped. But he never let go of the hope that his nephew was out there, somewhere, safe, and happy.

During the time Charlie was missing, early on, he met an older woman named Corinne while he was out asking about Charlie. She could tell he was in distress and thought he was cute. She took advantage of this. Later that year, his daughter Malia was born, and Talia couldn't stand it, so she took away his memories of his daughter, made sure Corinne would never return, and put Malia into the adoption system as she had with Charlie.

Now, Peter has another son. A son of his own. Theo Raeken had turned up one day on his doorstep, soaking wet from the rain, with just a backpack and looking like he’d been crying. Theo had killed his previous ‘guardians’ and now needed somewhere to go. He’d known he could trust Peter. So, he took the Chimera in without a moment’s hesitation, finding comfort in having someone else in his large and empty apartment and enjoying having someone to care for again. It didn’t matter that Theo wanted it to be a secret, Peter was just happy to have someone to cook for and help with homework again.

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ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ

Peter has never been someone who made friends. He had however been friends with the late Claudia Stilinski, and her husband Noah. When Claudia passed away, he became even closer with Noah, helping him with his almost addiction.

The only other real friend that he has is the newest addition to the Sheriff's department, one Jordan Parrish. An unlikely friendship that means a lot to Peter. Jordan was close to his age, just four years younger, where his other friend Noah was sixteen years older. It was nice to have someone he could relate to, joke with, and feed. Peter feeds everyone he cares about, especially his friends living in run down apartments that clearly have troubled pasts.

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ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ

When Peter was sixteen, he got into a 'relationship' with Corinne, also known as the Desert Wolf. This relationship led to Corinne becoming pregnant with Peter's child and giving birth to Malia. Peter was being manipulated by the significantly older woman, it was clear to everyone when he told them about her. Talia resented that he'd had a child so young when the town's eyes were already on her because of how he treated her own children, so she took Peter's memories and put Malia up for adoption, erasing her from the family.

Following the trend of Peter preferring those older than him, he also fell into bed with one Deucalion Blackwood, who later became the Alpha of Alphas. Peter was nineteen this time around and so while it was legal, Deucalion was still much older than he was and so it was thrilling. The relationship was almost entirely sex and Peter loved it. He grew to love Deucalion. But, the other man didn't feel the same. After he became blind, he left Beacon Hills behind without so much as a goodbye.

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ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ

ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ

As a Werewolf, Peter’s body is in peak physical condition. Though, he still takes time to exercise to maintain his shape, because although his body was naturally inclined to health and wellness, that doesn’t mean he should let himself slack.

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ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ

Peter has never been officially diagnosed with anything. This is something he holds onto no matter how people fight it. He refuses to be anything other than "normal" (though this is never something he'd force on others, just a strange standard he set for himself). Though, if you took him to a professional, he would undoubtedly be diagnosed with Autism.

Also, Peter has issues with anxiety. Had the fire happened, who could know how severe that would have become. Before Deucalion, Peter was generally uncaring for others unless they were family, but being involved with someone else opened him up to more feelings and so now has something of an abandonment issue problem. He also has issues with anxiety when it comes to departing from his routines.

Peter would say, looking back, that he might have had depression as a teenager. From around the time Cora was born. But he didn't have time to be depressed, he had little ones depending on him and grades to get. Besides, his siblings only just had time for their own kids they didn't have time for him. So, he ignored it. He packed all his issues into a little box and just kept going, his pups as the only highlight of his very gloomy life. He isn't sure it ever went away, but it got easier. Even if it did get a whole lot worse when his mother died. It's been creeping its way back in since he moved out, but he refuses to move back home or visit too often, lest Talia say something about it.

TW: Suicide attempt, Depressive thoughts, mention of vomit

Following his relationship with Deucalion, his mental health took a dive. There was a time where he thought he'd never come out of the dark spot. He wasn't helping the pups like he should, he was falling behind in school. It was hard. He couldn't find any positives, any silver linings, no reason to keep going. The pups had plenty of family, and even if they'd miss him, they'd learn to live without him. Maybe their lives would finally be normal. So.. he tried to OD.

Peter's attempt did not succeed. Of course it didn't, his body processed the pills quickly and he was throwing them up before he could even process that he felt sick at all. After that, the depression got worse for a while. He felt guilty for trying to leave, he hated himself for having to stay, he spoiled the pups for weeks following it just to make up for a sin they didn't know he'd committed. He never told anyone. They didn't need to know that he'd tried to take the coward's way out, since some part of him knew that an OD just wouldn't take.

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ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ

Peter enjoys cooking, particularly for others, and so he often eats well. He shops at the farmer’s market, buying the highest quality ingredients possible in order to ensure that himself, and those he cares about, eat the best that they can. It’s important - and Peter is just a little bit of a snob when it comes to food.

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ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ

Peter’s memory is significantly above average, that was how he managed to become so educated. He remembers every birthday, every event, every embarrassing thing you wish he’d forget.

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ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ

Peter really values his sleep. He doesn’t often nap, but it’s important to him that he gets at least seven hours of sleep each night, though he prefers at least nine. He likes to sleep. Though, he doesn’t object to sleeping less if he’s needed for something.

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#this is the longest sheet by far #I have my op sheets all ready in drafts #but new moot got me thinking about peter #so here is him instead #writing #teen wolf #peter hale #peter hale headcanons #teen wolf headcanons #loganwritesheadcanons #loganwritescharacters #loganwriteshales #hale headcanons #teen wolf au #hale fire au #hales survived au

[cherry-leclerc]

true temptation ☆ cl16

genre: sainz!reader, humor, nnn (mommy, i can explain), smut, fluff, whipped!charles, established relationship

word count: 2k

Your boyfriend makes a decision to participate in NNN, but immediately regrets it when he realizes just how difficult it is to stay away from you. 

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...car sex, riding, fingering

req!... probably the longest drabble i’ve done so far, but i hope you all enjoy! 

“You’re never going to last.”

The Monegasque’ eyes challenge you as you stand there unimpressed, hands on your hips. It had all started with him barging in on you and calling an ‘emergency couple’s meeting’.

Pacing the room, he goes back and forth, mumbling slowly, as if creating a plan up in his head. As far as you’re concerned, he was never going to actually do it. The man was obsessed with you. 

“Have a little faith in me,” he groans, hands brushing his hair back in despair. 

His so called - ‘emergency’ -  was that he would be taking part in No Nut November. No kissing. No sex. 

Or anything remotely related to it.

Walking up to him, you pat his chest. His hands find their way down to your waist, doe eyes staring back up at him.

“I will… But I’m going to make your head spin.”

-

He started off strong. He even felt a bounce in his step when he entered Ferrari Hospitality; he swore he felt like he was walking on sunshine. 

“You’re actually doing it?” 

Joris, too, had no hope for his friend. He had seen the way the green eyed boy would cling onto you as if it were the only thing he knew how to do. The way he talked about you, even when you weren’t around. 

“Oui. Why? Do you not think it’s a good idea?”

His friend tilts his head to the side as he thinks about it for a minute. “Not sure. All I know is that your and Pierre’s bet on who can last longer is never going to end up good. You can’t even go a single second without kissing her!”

“He said he could last longer than me? I have to prove him wrong….” His mind slips over to the last part. “I can live without her kisses for a month. It’ll be fine.”

The Ferrari driver makes his way to his team, properly analyzing what faults his car had and how he can make the best out of it. Frustrated, Charles rubs his eyes. 

“I will do the best I can, but I can’t promise a podium. Not with a car like this.”

Taking notes, Xavi nods as he walks away. “Hi, Xavi!” The sound of your voice instantly makes him ease up as he searches for you. His jaw goes slack.

“What are you wearing?”

Smiling wide with eyes crinkled, you rush over to him. “It’s only a dress.”

But it wasn’t just a dress. He knows you did it on purpose, wearing the little black dress he had last fucked you in. It’s the way it fans your thighs as the wind gently teases anyone passing by. 

“You’re supposed to be on my team. Are we really going to let Kika and Pierre win?”

Rolling your eyes, you tippy toe, naturally about to kiss him, but stop yourself before you do. He frowns. 

“You are sooo right!” You comedically screech as you slap your hands against your cheeks. “I do want us to win! Forget the kiss, my mistake.”

He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. 

“You’re a fucking nightmare.”

-

He’s a week in and he’s finally starting to lose his grip.

“You’re sweating buckets, mate,” Daniel points out as he lets out a loud laugh, doing a muppet dive. Charles unbuttons his collared shirt. 

“It’s the heat, it’s the heat.”

The Aussie furrows his eyebrows and he raises a hand up to feel the air. Light breeze. Shivering, you strut over to your boyfriend. 

“Can we leave? It’s getting too cold.”

And he hates the way that dress clings onto your body, your figure being completely shown off. Nothing but dirty thoughts have entered his mind from the moment he first saw you. 

“Sure.”

Kicking off your heels, you throw yourself onto the bed, face first. Shooo tirefff, you mumble against the sheets. He purposefully takes a seat across from you, knowing he’d be tempted to cross the line if he didn’t. 

Tossing over, you reach out for him. And he’s about to turn you down, but he notices the way your nose is painted pink - your cheeks, too - and soft, tired eyes meeting his. His heart melts at the sight. So, he reminds himself that a hug with his girlfriend is nothing bad.

Climbing onto his lap, you dig your face into his chest, short dress riding up. He physically has to stop himself from letting out a loud moan. Instead, he traces his fingers up and down your spine. You shudder.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck, Charlie?”

Right there, is his breaking point. He’s ready to kiss you, finger you, eat you out, fuck you, anything. But you giggle teasingly as you pull back, a wicked smile drawn. 

“Whoops. Never mind.”

-

He’s known you wouldn’t make this easy on him. It’s almost as if you’ve made it your mission to screw with his head - and while he would normally love it - in this case, it was killing him.

Dance with me, you would beg him and you sway in front of him. It was a rare moment of it just being you two, so naturally, you took advantage of it. You showered, did your skincare, watched a movie, but the moment you heard Sparks by Coldplay echoing from his phone, you immediately jumped up like a bunny.

Then, his heart would melt, and melt, and melt - and melt some more. It would only be a reminder of what a perfect match you both were. He would memorize your face once again; no makeup, eyebags due to long travels with him, a small cut on the bridge of your nose from earlier when Lando had accidentally hit you with his frisbee, pink lips he so desperately missed. 

He would oblige, the way you knew he would. He found home within you as you would both sway, your feet on top of his as he would lead you both, you having to do nothing but close your eyes and feel his heartbeat. And it was so sweet to know that it was only yours.

I love you, he would remind you as if he didn’t already tell you a million times before. As if it were a way to make up for all this. And you would say-

“I know.”

-

“How are you keeping up?” 

The Frenchman smiles proudly as he takes a sip of water. “I’m actually doing fine. You?”

Charles gulps, green eyes following to where you stand next to Kika.

“Good.”

-

“It’s actually not that hard.” 

Kika and you had been touching up on your boyfriend's challenge. She would say it as if it were the easiest thing. You slump against your chair.

“That’s not fair… Mine has the most beautiful face ever!”

“Hey!”

You squeal as she aims a pillow at you. I’m sorry! The Portuguese laughs too, sticking her tongue out. You sigh. “I do miss him, though.”

“Yeah…”

“Have we seriously just been talking about how horny we are?”

“Don’t say it like that!” She bites her lip. “We have.”

“Why did they ever think this was going to be a good idea?”

Propping her arm against the table, she beams. “It’s not, but I heard from Pierre about how much Charles is struggling.” You groan.

“Yeah, well that’s nothing but his own fault.”

-

It’s now been 2 weeks and he’s already given up. His pleads were convincing. 

C’mon, baby. Let me fuck you.

It’s been too long. I miss the way you taste.

But you stood your ground. 

“No, no, no.” You shook your head, running away. Seeing Carlos, you hide behind him. “You brought this onto yourself! Now you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Confused, Carlos questions you both on what you’re talking about. It’s just that your sister won’t let me-

“Stop! That’s my brother!”

The Monegasque shrugs as Carlos turns to you. What is he talking about? Your face burns up as you brush him off. “Nada, nada - he’s just being a jerk.” And so, he believes it and walks away, too tired to deal with any of it.

 You let out a squeal when Charles plunges towards you. He picks you up, carrying you to his motorhome.

“Let go!”

Dropping you onto his small bed, he stares down at you like a lion salivating over their prey. You suppress a whimper, clamming your legs shut. He raises a brow.

“You’re telling me you don’t want the same thing I do? I promise I’ll do it just the way you like it.”

Closing your eyes, you can picture it. You can feel him already, pressed up against you. You do want it, you do. Opening your eyes, you shake your head. 

“Just two more weeks to go.”

-

“We lost.” Taken aback, you snort. What do you mean? Your friend blushes before dragging you to the corner. “I mean that last night Pierre and I went out for dinner and one thing led to another and-”

“Okay, okay, I caught on!”

Giggling, she shimmies her shoulders towards you. “What are you going to do?” You pout as you stare back blankly. She sighs. “I’m talking about you and Charles! I mean you both already won - you could do whateverrrr you want.”

Stuttering, you cough before saying, “You made it loud and clear, thank you very much.”

-

Shivering, you climb into the passenger's seat of his Pista as you thank him for opening and closing your door. As soon as he climbs in, he turns on the heater. The Monaco streets were lonely, everyone already in their homes, sheltering from the light rain that had picked up.

“You want to pull over?”

You sound so sweet asking that he almost thinks he’s hallucinating or that any second now you’re going to surprise him with a, just kidding!

But he quickly could tell you weren’t and he doesn’t want to let the moment slip away. Not when he’s been waiting for so long. Screw it if he lost.

Pulling over on the side of an isolated street, he hauls you onto his lap. You thank the universe for skirts. Pushing your panties aside, his long fingers slide against your wet folds. You let out a wail.

“Fuck, you don’t know how I’ve missed hearing you.” He slides two fingers in. “Feeling you.”

Dazed, you find yourself grinding on his fingers. Every single time they would brush against your g-spot, you would kiss him harder. He slips them out, bringing them up to his lips. 

And he moans in a way you’ve never heard before. So fucking sweet. Blushing, you lean in to kiss him. You can still taste yourself.

“Charles, please - do something.”

Never during your entire relationship has he ever fucked you as hard as he did that day. His grip on your waist hurt, but it hurt so good. His cock would continuously brush against where you needed him the most, so much so, he left you seeing stars. Drooling all over him, you hold onto his shoulders, bouncing up and down rapidly.

“So tight – So warm.” He chokes when you ground your hips deeper. “So fucking good.”

Then, he finishes inside of you. His fingers slide down to your clit as he rubs it. You finish with a loud cry. Kissing you one last time, he slaps your ass. You scowl playfully.

“Admit it - you’ve missed it, too.”

-

“Just a few more weeks and you would have won!” Pierre clicks his tongue before kicking his legs up against the table in front of him. Charles rolls his eyes.

“I’m never doing that again.”

Kika smacks the Frechman’s thigh. “You both lost, remember? Only, you did before him.” The Monegasque quickly springs up.

“You’re saying we won?”

“You’re acting as if this were the fucking Olympics, Cha.” You drag him by the arm to sit back down as he starts celebrating his ‘accomplishment of the year’.

“What are we clapping about?”

Your brother strolls over to an open seat as he opens up a water bottle. Hurriedly, you screech, “Nothing! Only that the season is almost over-”

“He’s yapping about how he won No Nut November, except, he didn’t. 2 weeks and fucking does not count.”

“You did what?”

Jumping up, Charles trips over his feet as he tries backing away from the angry Spaniard. “I think I forgot my phone! I’ll be right back!”

Chasing after him, your brother yells out, “That’s my baby sister, cabrón!”

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader

[korasonata]

So I work at a post office and somebody called me today and asked if they could ship fish to the US, and I wasn’t 100% sure, so obviously I went “let me just check the prohibited goods section of my shipping binder real quick”. Flipped all the way to the US section, found what I was looking for and sent them on their way. But of course naturally after they’d left I’d still had the book open, so naturally I was curious and decided to check it out, and let me tell you, there is some WILD stuff in this book.

•You’re not allowed to ship playing cards to Italy.

•Antarctica simply says refer to Australia. The epitome of logic.

•Andorra is just sad. You’re not allowed to ship artwork, drawings, books or toys of any kind, musical instruments, sheet music, cutlery, furniture, several types of paper, shoes??? It has the longest list of restrictions I’ve come across so far and it’s a country that has a total population of less people than my local college.

•Apparently you aren’t allowed to ship clothing to Ireland, but it only specifies men’s or women’s clothing, so like non-binary people stay winning.

•Only a handful of countries specifically mention that you aren’t allowed to ship asbestos, so like RIP to the rest of the world I guess.

•The US has some very specific things prohibited, including “a knife, gaff, or any other sharp object attached or intended to be attached to the leg of a bird for use in animal fighting ventures” ????

•Canada is the only country I have found so far that specifically states that you cannot ship hate propaganda, which I thought was nice. But then again, it also specifies that you cannot ship any beekeeping apparatuses, but do you know what you CAN ship? LIVE FUCKING BEES.

•There are several countries which seem to be in direct competition with one another, ie pairings of countries that have specifically stated they will not accept anything made in the other country and vice versa.

•You can’t ship things to China that were made in China.

I’m having the time of my life right now.

[tteokdoroki]

somno w/ nagi 😞😞💔 he’s so spent and exhausted after the longest day of practice, but his body betrays itself as soon as you press back against his tall frame. he ruts into you, breathy in your ear and hard in his boxers, and it doesn’t take him long at all, not when you feel so warm and inviting and soft. but it’s alright, he can be motivated by the right things after all — and best believe the way you whimper for him so sweetly does it for him. fully awake now, he will make sure to take proper care of you, just like you always do to him, even when half asleep still :(

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— late night lovin' + seishiro nagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — nagi loves the way you look in his bed late night after practice. but he loves the way you crave him in your sleep even more.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, heavy smut, established relationship, somnophilia, dry humping, cockwarming, creampies, unprotected!sex, soft dom + pro player!nagi  not beta read ! - fem!reader.

⭑ words — 2.5K.

⭑ notes — thank u for indulging my brain rot, truly love him sm !! also first time writng him pls be kind and im sorry this took so long shbs! - m.list✩

seishiro nagi hates when practice runs late.

exhaustion settles into his bones far too quick for his liking, listening to feedback from ego and the others feels like a bore and he can hardly feel bothered to grab something to eat with the team on the way home. he just about manages to shower at the stadium before making it back and by the time he does— you’re there, in his bed like he wants you to be.

seishiro nagi loves to see you sprawled across his sheets after practice.

he’d given you a key to his place after deciding it was too much of a hassle for you to drive over after his training or for him to come pick you up — it was easier if you could make yourself at home. nagi forgoes turning on the lights as he enters the master bedroom, dropping his duffle bag at the entryway after noticing that you’d fallen asleep. probably while you were waiting for him.

you’re so pretty like this, peaceful, curled up amongst seishiro’s expensive cotton linens and duvet. adorable, wearing one of his older team jerseys – the tops of your perfect pudgy thighs just peeking out from under its material.

slipping into bed behind you is easy for seishiro nagi.

the white-haired striker strips off his gear layer by layer and crawls under the blankets to join you, his bare chest snug against your back and an arm slung over your waist lazily.

your response to his closeness is almost instantaneous, pressing yourself back against nagi and finding comfort in his presence behind you despite not being able to see him in the dark. “sei—“ you whimper, soft and needy, the tendrils of sleep still clinging onto you. so cute. nagi thinks you’re so fucking cute. searching for his warmth like this. even while you rest. 

you like how he smells, he remembers. that’s why you lean into him like he’s a safety net. why he showers using a body wash with a scent so delicate it could almost be fabric softener and why you wear his clothes whenever you have the chance. the smell of cedarwood and seishiro nagi is comforting to you, especially when he’s away.

not that he minds, not that it necessarily bothers the striker. he likes it, loves to see you bare the very symbol of his passion. the one thing he loves aside from you – soccer.

you visibly relax when he wraps another strong arm around your shoulders and squeezes you close, making you feel small and safe. your pout loses itself in the sleepy babbles that lay on on your lips and crease between your brows fades too. 

“sei…?”

“shhh, angel. s’just me,” nagi coos quietly, tucking his face into the back of your neck with his lashes fluttering against it. he just wants to sleep, fall away from the world with you but his body betrays him, annoyingly so. you’re too soft, too warm, to precious for nagi to resist and it’s a little bothersome that he can’t help it.

he’s hard before he even knows it, the heavy outline of his dick pressed against your pert ass– your body pulsing to life back into your boyfriend’s grip to get comfortable once more. he’s exhausted too but maybe it would help to fall asleep like this– if he wore himself down by grinding into you, dragging his hips back and forth, slow and steady so his erection slides through your cheeks from behind.

seishiro’s breathing gets a little heavier, hot and ragged against your bare skin, his grip on you tighter and his cock weighty and wet behind the fabric of his boxers. over the blood pumping through his ears, as full of adrenaline as it would be on the pitch, he hears you whimper out for him – a sound so sweet that he can’t ignore it.

you’ve always had some kind of hold over nagi, one that he can’t ignore. one that pushes him past his limits. the right thing is always able to motivate him, and the way you mewl out for him in your sleep, your body following his lead in a soft, sensual bump and grind is exactly the kind of thing that drives him forward.

you make things a little easier for him, you always do, stretching a leg forward so nagi has better access to the treasure between your thighs. his reward for working so hard today. “ngh…s-sei…” you mumble again, back arching into his chest on its own accord when he pulls his chubby cock out, smearing his arousal along your backside and right over the crotch of your panties.

“keep quiet pretty girl,” the white haired player whispers, as if there’s anyone around to hear you both. maye its that selfishness that’s been instilled in him, the ego, per say but he wants to keep you to himself. “i’ll take care of it from here, ‘kay?”

every ounce of you, every sound you make, every twitch and shift of your body to keep up with his. it’s his to keep. you’re his to keep.

and seishiro nagi loves that.

“uh-huh,” you’re awake now but just barely, parting your thighs to make room for your boyfriend while he grinds into the heat of your core with the same energy you’d expect from a dog in rut. “y’so big sei…” you gasp like you’ve taken a bullet to the heart when nagi’s seedy tip brushes so deliciously against your clothes and swollen clit – his movements precise yet lax, his breath behind you hot, ragged yet soft as it coasts over your skin. 

“mm, you can take it…”

“m-more, need more. s-sei—!”     

“said to keep quiet, angel.” nagi grunts while his fingers dance up to tap at your lips. “gimme your mouth. c’mere.” you part them like a good girl, dazed as you follow nagi’s needy command and let him slide two digits against your tongue, keeping your mouth pacified and full. it would be enough to put you back to sleep if you wanted.

you’re so good even when you’re barely conscious, sucking on nagi’s fingers and letting him have his way with you. he’s getting annoyed, not with you. never with you. there’s just too many obstacles in his way, too much interfering with reaching his goal and making you feel good. 

too many layers of clothes, too many blankes and it’s really starting to piss him off. 

“lift your leg, ‘m gonna get these clothes out of the way. what a bother.” seishiro pants wetly into the junction between your neck and shoulder. he works a hand between your bodies, not stopping the lazy roll of his hips from behind, and kicks off the blanket. his sweats are to follow, then your shirt is pulled up enough for his large palm to settle on your tummy, just above the hem of your underwear.

nagi lets out a satisfied hum once your panties are off. you’re so wet for someone so tired but pride bristles in his chest– knowing that only he can get you sticky and soaked like this even when you’re tiptoeing the line between sleeping and being awake. 

he wastes no more time, running the length of his creamy cock through the slickness of your puffy folds before easing himself past your fluttering entrance – taking him so well and so easily. he stills for a moment, a shudder shooting down his spine because nagi can never quite get used to having your warmth wrapped around him while your cute little cunt drools down his dick.

seishiro plants wet, open mouthed kisses across your shoulders and neck, hooking his arm under your leg before he starts to move– revelling in your squeals of pleasure that echo around his fingers. “‘mph…angel, so…t-tight,” the words are stuttered, but drawn out in a low and sexy tone that makes you clench down hard. just catching on nagi’s cockhead each time it pulls out of you.”s’not fair. you’re not…fuck, you’re not fair t’me angel.”

even though he’s set the pace, slothully fucking up into your gooey insides, balls tapping lightly at the curve of your ass– you still have an ungodly amount of control over nagi, making his large body curl over yours and reducing him to a sex-crazed mess, a mop of sweaty white hair and muffled moans. 

he chases your soaked, salacious pussy impulsively, hips twitching up to meet the back and forth of your own– bearing down on the spongy spot inside of you that makes you go wild.

the world around you both grows hotter and hotter, nagi practically drooling against your back while his fingertips on his freehand sink into your fleshy thighs to leave their mark— tugging you back onto his dick every time he pulls out, only to sink back in. “feels good. so warm. keep me inside, pretty girl,” he tells in a dreamy sigh, you and through the fog of your sleep, squeezing around the thickness at nagi’s base where he stretches you open. 

your boyfriend rewards you with the same treatment, giving you more of what you crave and buries himself up to the hilt— deep within your velvet walls, smearing precum along your most sensitive spots. you gargle around his fingers, happy but drowsy and force yourself to circle your ass back onto nagi’s cock so that you lose your minds together.

lust sparks between your sweat drenched bodies in the dead of night, accompanied by the symphony of wet slaps and sticky skin on skin. it’s intoxicating how your cunt squelches with every thrust and languid jut from his slender hips. nagi is lazy and loving, desperate and hungry for the prize of your pleasure.  

“sei. w’na cum,” you bleat, needier and more aroused than before when he finally pulls his digits from your drooling mouth. the white haired striker streaks your viscous salvia across your chin and down the front of your body until he hits the pulsing nub between your ruined pussy lips.

his eyelashes flutter right behind your ear, the striker’s low moans echoing into them and sending dopamine in a hot rush across your sleepy brain. arousing it. “so soon? just a little longer…s-shit… ‘m not there yet.”

truth be told, it wouldn’t take much more for nagi to cum— there’s too much going on that overwhelms him. the glisten of his cock as it escapes the snugness of your sloppy sex, the way you cry out for him, the mental image of your face that he can’t see. how your expression is probably twisted into something so delirious with ecstasy.

he could cream your insides right now, fill you up until it’s leaking out of you, staining your thighs and the sweater of his that you wear…but instead he pulls back the hood of your clit— circling the rough pad of his thumb into the sensitive little bud just to draw it out. make the night last longer. 

“o-oh fuck! sei!” your voice is broken and husky, making his skin flush and his dick throb within the embrace of your sluice and addictive walls. you’re barely awake and you’ve got the white- haired soccer player fucked out beyond comprehension. “f-faster.” 

“nuh-uh, wait f’me angel. please.” if you beg for him any more, especially with that tone, he might burst. give you his load before he’s done toying with you, spreading the filthy mix of your arousals over your clit in the shape of his name— with the hopes of bringing you closer to your high. “wan’ you creamin’ on me first. gotta hold it, pretty girl. you can do that f’me, right? f-fuck…” he rambles into the dark. 

there’s a burn to backs of your thighs where nagi’s sweatpants have rubbed you raw while he fucks you raw— his shaft and it’s pretty blue veins coated in a white froth from your tight little hole. but you don’t care, you’re too brainless to even think about caring— babbling your praises, blindly reaching behind you for the dip in your boyfriend’s hips to pull him forward, use it as leverage to fuck you deeper like you want. 

so you’re groping at him and he’s groping at you, lost in the twilight zone—fucking languidly against the sheets. the circles on your clit become rougher, tighter just like you do around seishiro who moans loud and proud against your ear, tongue sliding along the skin behind it. 

it’s all open mouthed mewls and wondering hands, fat droplets of arousal running down your thighs and precum against your weeping slit. you’re both messes, passionate and tired and hungry for what you can take from one another. nagi’s moans grow higher and higher in octave until they nearly rival your own and the way he so ravenously pounds into you starts to falter.

“sei, ‘m there…t-there!” you warn him through shaky breaths, the coil in your stomach that threatens to unwind setting you on high alert.  you feel your impending orgasm burn at your pelvis, tickle your spine and it only spurs nagi on— rolling his hips just right, cantering into you from behind with his balls soaked in your juices. 

“yeah, yeah…yeah…i know. ‘m g’na cum for you mhm… angel. d’ya want it? s-say you wan’ it.” whines as if you’ll say no to him but doesn’t give you the choice. his large, lean body anchors you down on his cock as it bullies it’s way through your blistering hot walls to grind against that one special spot that makes you see stars. seishiro doesn’t let up, how can he? when you claw at his ass and his waist and beg him to go deeper. 

your orgasm breaks the surface first, waves of your sweet nectar gushing from your slick sex so fast it almost forces nagi out of you. you squeal and he chokes on a staggered breath, every ripple of your cunt dragging him by the ankle towards his own high as he fucks you through your own. nagi’s load pours into your ravaged cunt as if the floodgates had been opened— warm and viscous as it seeps from your puffy folds, painting you in the shade of him. 

fatigue sinks it’s fangs into seishiro as he grinds the last of his seed into you, making sure it sticks— shallowly thrusting into you until you both come back down to earth. he loosens hold on you, but only just, the weight of his large frame thrown over you as you catch your breath together. 

“w-welcome home sei,” you hum, rolling over to face him, smiling as your boyfriend loses the fight to sleep before reaching up to twirl your fingers through his baby hairs. a gesture that always helps him sleep faster, that you always reward him with at the end of a long day. “missed you.” 

“thanks angel, don’ go missin’ me when ‘m right here.” nagi grumbles, clinging onto you, exhausted— if he weren’t wrecking your shit mere moments ago. “now shh, c’mere sleep ‘n with me.” with that, you’re wrapped in his arms, safe and peaceful once again. 

and there’s nothing seishiro nagi loves more.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #nagi x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #nagi smut #nagi x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut #nagi seishiro x you #seishiro nagi smut #bllk thirst #blue lock thirst #blue lock imagines #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #tw: somnophilia

[wineauntie]

MEDICINE – Quinn Hughes x fem!reader (smut)

previous part. series masterlist.

summary: Quinn Hughes is going to dream about this night for a longggg time.

note: the longest smut I’ve ever written ever, we quite literally dive right in.

warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, sexual content, oral (fem!receiving), p in v, dom!Quinn Hughes, nicknames like pretty girl, use of y/n, fem!reader, praise galore.

word count: 3.1K

"So this is where you live?!"

You had barely stepped into Quinn's apartment when you found yourself admiring your vast surroundings. The apartment was neat, and one might think it had been plucked straight out of a catalogue were there not various personal touches around the place, such as a variety of trophies and family photos. Your eyes glimmered once they'd finally landed back on Quinn, who seemed to watch you with amusement as he approached you.

"This is where I live." Quinn hummed in confirmation, coming up behind you as you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. You turned fully towards him, reaching up and intertwining your arms around his neck.

"Do I get a tour?" You drawled, tilting your head upwards as he slowly raised one eyebrow.

"Jump," that was all he said before you were hoisted up onto him, your legs instinctively locking around his waist as he gripped the space of your upper thigh. You let a laugh spring free as he moved forward, your arms desperately tightening their hold.

"This is the living room, kitchen, and hall," Quinn pointed out as he moved through the apartment, his eyes never leaving yours. He turned, careful not to jostle you too much, as he pushed a door open, entering the room backwards. "And this is the bedroom,"

"Oh, my favourite so far," you hummed, your fingers carefully curling around the curls at the base of Quinn's neck. You were suddenly placed down on a soft surface, your body sinking into comfort as Quinn took a step back.

"And that's my bed," he spoke. He kept his darkening eyes on you while your hands smoothed across the fabric of his sheets, your feet kicking off your shoes. You had to hold back a laugh as you childishly flopped back against the bed. "Make yourself at home."

"I plan to," you said, pushing yourself up to face the rugged man. You crossed your legs as you lazed back on your hands. "Help me?"

Quinn bit back his own smile as he stepped closer to the bed. His hand reached for your knees, forcing you to uncross them as he pressed a long and demanding kiss to your lips. You found yourself melting into his every touch, becoming soft like wax—so easily malleable, there to be toyed with and moulded into whatever he wanted.

His hand crept upwards, cupping your jaw as he moved your head to turn ever so slightly. He pulled away from your lips, grazing his own along the skin of your cheeks, and you were it felt like a raging swirl of fire moving down your body and straight to your core. He tilted your head further, your eyes dropping closed as he began a tirade of unhurried kisses down the expanse of your neck.

You let a small gasp slip from your lips as Quinn suddenly suckled on the flesh just above the base of your neck, the biting sting of pressure perfectly soothed by his tongue smoothing over the purpling bruise. You let him manoeuvre you as his other hand ran up and down your pant-covered leg, his fingers light and teasing, knowing exactly what they were doing to you.

Quinn pulled back fully now, his hand still against your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone as he admired the various blotches he'd left across your skin.

"Beautiful," he sighed, his eyes traversing back to yours. His eyes were heavy, half-lidded, and filled with what you could only describe as pure want. You leaned into him, connecting your lips to his once more, your body squirming with need. He pulled away almost instantly, his lips still against yours as he whispered. "Not yet…patience, pretty girl."

You found yourself gulping as Quinn moved down your clothed body. His hands ran upwards, lingering at the bottom of the top you had worn out.

"Can I take this off?" He asked, his voice pleading. His eyes were fixated on you, despite his wandering hands that ran beneath the top. You found yourself nodding, to which Quinn frowned. "Words, pretty girl…I need to hear them."

"Take it off, please," you breathed out, your chest rising and falling abnormally quick as Quinn hummed and lifted the shirt from your body, leaving your chest in just your bra.

"And this?" Quinn smirked, toying with the lace-edged strap of your bra, his tongue running over his lip.

"Take it off," you confirmed. Quinn had no hesitation when he quickly unclasped it and threw it into the unknown, leaving your chest bare for him to witness. You smiled as he made a choking sound; his warm hands ran up and down your goose-bumped skin. Your head lolled back as he cupped your breasts, leaning down to press chaste kisses to the sensitive skin.

"Quinn," you found yourself pleading, your hands laving through his loose waves as he sucked a bruise just above your nipple, his tongue swirling over it as you whined. He let out a breathy laugh as he brought his face up to yours, his breath fanning across your cheeks.

"I want to taste you," he murmured, brushing his nose against yours before he smoothly moved downward, his eyes trained on your widened ones.

His thumbs caught in the waistband of your pants, silently searching for permission before he began to pull them down slowly, revealing your skin that was practically itching with need. The fabric moved down your legs swiftly as Quinn's nimble fingers pulled them off of you completely. His hand remained lightly holding your ankle, his eyes still on yours as he moved to kneel before you.

You dropped back onto your elbows, your head tilting back as Quinn slowly pressed longer, and chaste kisses up your leg towards your upper thigh.

"Oh god," you gasped out as he pressed a kiss right below the hem of your pants. Quinn hummed through a chuckle, lifting his head for a second.

"Not quite," he mused. He ran his fingers over the dampened fabric, relishing the way you squirmed against his every touch. "Will you let me taste you, y/n?"

You pried open your eyes to meet his desperate ones, his hands on either one of your thighs, thumbs smoothing over the supple flesh.

"Please," you begged, your hand tugging on his curls. You pulsed with need, your body flushed with desire, as Quinn thumbed his lip in thought.

"Only because you asked so nicely," he whispered breathlessly.

You gasped as Quinn's tongue came into contact with your clothed core. He trailed his tongue over the dampness before he nipped the hem of your pants with his teeth, dragging them down your legs without breaking eye contact. You felt your heart thumping loudly against the confines of your chest as he threw your pants onto the floor before he quite literally dove in.

Quinn devoured you like a man starved.

Your eyes had shot closed as you felt his tongue glide through your wet folds, circling your clitoral area as he pleasured you. Your head fell back in silent ecstasy, with your mouth agape as his tongue flicked over the sensitive nub. He slowly worked a finger inside of you, your walls clenching down as he moved it in and out.

"You look so pretty like this," Quinn mumbled in hushed tones. He crooked his finger inside of you, pressing against your soft walls as you let out a breathy moan. He sucked your sensitive nub into his mouth, circling it with his tongue, while he slipped his finger in and out easily due to your arousal.

You carded your fingers through his hair as you felt him slowly push another finger into your wetness, causing Quinn to groan against you, vibrating across your clit as he continued his tirade of sucking and swirling.

"You take my fingers so well," he praised, his eyes moving up to witness your blissful face. The feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of your drenched core, hitting every nerve cell, sent you into overdrive and wiped away any thought other than the pleasure he was giving you. Your hips jolted towards his fingers with a shameless moan as you tried to feel as much of him as he was letting you.

Quinn had a gift, you decided, as he brought you closer and closer to the taunting edge of what seemed like endless pleasure.

You cried out as he curled his fingers, moving them more rapidly as you held onto his hair, your thighs closing around his head. The familiar sensation of a tightening swirl formed in your core, wracking through your body and threatening to spill over. You tightened around Quinn's fingers as he sped up, hitting places you hadn't even realised could be hit.

"Gonna come," you panted out, your eyes fluttering as Quinn seemed to ignore your warning, continuing his pursuit of your pleasure as your body trembled beneath him.

Without warning, the feeling of euphoria washed over your body, your thighs tensing around Quinn's head as he worked you through your orgasm, your chest heaving breathlessly as your back arched against the bed. You felt his fingers ease in and out past the tension, trying to prolong your orgasm for as long as it could.

Your eyes had rolled far back into your head, your fingers gripping onto Quinn's hair as he slowly withdrew to relish the look of pure, unadulterated pleasure that cascaded across your face.

With one last, languid pump, he removed his fingers from your slickness, causing your eyes to peel open. Quinn was flushed and covered in your wetness; his hair was ruffled and messy from where you'd been holding on.

And you'd never seen something so attractive in your life.

Quinn kept his eyes on yours as he raised his fingers to his lips and sucked your juices off of his digits with a crude pop.

Scratch your last statement—now, you'd never seen something as attractive as that in your life.

Despite your shaky body, you found yourself standing up, pulling Quinn off of the floor by his collar, and dragging him towards you to meet him with a punishing kiss.

You felt yourself melt into the embrace, the taste of you still smothering his tongue as you gripped his collar and slowly began to unbutton the white shirt he adorned. You'd gotten bored of being the only one bare; your desire to see Quinn naked overwhelmed your senses.

Your hands smoothed up and down his abs as you unbuttoned, and your kiss was unwavering as Quinn allowed you to work away. You rolled his shirt off his shoulders, your hands traipsing over the thick flesh of his biceps, causing you to pull away and admire his upper body, now fully on display.

Your fingers trailed across his shoulders and arms before you leaned forward and kissed the base of his neck, beginning your path down to the waistband of his jeans. Keeping eye contact, you dropped to your knees, your hands scrambling to unbuckle his pants, craving the bulge that protruded from beneath the fabric.

Just as you fully unbuttoned his pants, Quinn tutted and grabbed your hands, lifting you back up to your feet. You found yourself whining as you stood, your nose brushing against his as he chuckled.

"C'mon," you pouted, "at least let me have a taste."

"On the bed," Quinn ordered, his thumb dragging your lip as you rolled your eyes and sat back on the bed, your anticipation growing with each moment as Quinn stood before you, his gaze smouldering with desire. With deliberate movements, he removed his jeans, revealing the bulge that had been teasing you, now pressing against the fabric of his boxer briefs.

You watched intently as he discarded his remaining clothing, your breath hitching in your throat at the sight of his naked form. Quinn's physique was a work of art, with every muscle defined and rippling beneath his skin, a testament to his strength.

He climbed onto the bed, his body hovering over yours as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. You rolled your hips against him, wantonly moaning into the kiss at the feeling of his cock pushing against your skin.

"I need you, Quinn," you panted as you broke away, his eyes glittering with lust as they gazed down on you.

"Alright," he hummed, pulling away completely as he grabbed something from the set of drawers behind him. "Since you've been so patient." Quinn held out a wrapped condom, his grin widening as he stared you down with a cheeky smile. "Open it for me?"

You bit your lip and nodded, taking the condom and ripping the foil with your teeth. You took out the condom and looked up at Quinn as one of your hands drifted towards his stiff cock. You heard a deep grumble erupt from him as your thumb rolled over his tip before running along his shaft.

"Can I please?" You frowned playfully up at Quinn, practically salivating at the mere thought of having him inside your mouth.

Quinn rolled his head back, a low groan escaping his lips as he felt your touch tantalisingly close to where he craved it most. He brushed his fingertips beneath your chin, his eyes smouldering with desire.

"Patience, pretty girl," he whispered huskily, his fingers trailing along your jawline. "You'll get your chance."

You couldn't help but pout, feeling a delicious ache between your thighs as anticipation coiled tighter within you. But you trusted Quinn's lead, knowing the reward would be worth the wait.

With practised ease, Quinn plucked the condom from your fingers and sheathed himself in the condom, his movements deliberate and precise. He then hovered over you once more, the heat of his body searing against your skin.

"Ready?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire as you leaned further back into his soft sheets.

You nodded eagerly, your heart pounding in your chest as you spread your legs, inviting him closer. With a slow, torturous glide, Quinn entered you, filling you completely with a single, seamless thrust.

"Oh my god," you drawled, your eyes rolling back into your head as your fingers jumped to grasp at him. Quinn grunted as he thrust into you, spurred on by the feeling of your fingernails digging into the skin of his back and by the addictive little sounds you were making for him.

You could feel him everywhere. His touch was like wildfire, spreading with no containment and burning you with the purest desire. Your body writhed as he pounded into you, his soft groans in your ear adding to the intensity of the moment.

You mentally praised whoever Quinn's personal trainer was because his stamina was unrelenting as the sound of skin-on-skin slapping echoed through the room intertwined with your soft moans.

You gasped as Quinn suddenly started shallowly snapping his hips into you, his shaft deep within, causing sweat to pour from your skin. You arched off of the bed in pleasure, your fingers deep into the skin of Quinn's muscular back. His mouth moved to your lips as he fucked into you, your tongues plunging into one another's mouths.

You rolled your hips towards him as your lips separated from his, needing more of him inside you. He met your needy attempts with fierceness as that tightening knot within you began to pull in your core. You were no longer coherent in your words, each one of your moans laced with reckless abandon and a feeling of indulgence.

"Quinn," you eventually managed to gasp, feeling your orgasm encroach, your cunt fluttering around his cock. Quinn hummed as he thrust harder (you hadn't realised that was possible!).

"I know, pretty girl," he murmured, pressing kisses on the bruises on your neck that he'd previously gifted you. "I can feel you clenching around me."

You couldn't even find the words within you as your body shuddered, your orgasm washing over you in sudden flashes. You felt yourself clench harder around Quinn as he continued to thrust in and out of you, chasing his own pleasure while helping you ride through yours.

"That's it," Quinn gasped out, his pace slowing as you clawed into him. He let his head drop as he spilt inside of the condom, his steady thrust now sputtering. You groaned at the feeling of him inside you while he pried open his eyes and met your lips with another fiery kiss.

You both lay there, breathless and spent, intertwined in a tangle of limbs and sheets. The room was filled with a heady mixture of your mingled scents and the echoes of your shared passion.

Quinn brushed a strand of hair away from your flushed face, his eyes softening as he gazed at you with an adoring intensity. You returned his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the affection in his eyes.

"God, that was…you were…" Quinn murmured, his voice husky with emotion, as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. You smiled up at him, feeling a surge of contentment wash over you.

"You're not so bad yourself," you teased, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest once he'd slipped out from inside of you and disposed of the used condom.

Quinn chuckled a deep rumble that reverberated through his chest. You allowed yourself to settle on the sheets, your breathing steadying as you tried to relax your racing heart. As your gaze began to fade, he returned beside you, his hand stroking up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their trail.

"I should probably get going," you murmured, kissing the palm of his hand as he cupped your cheek.

"Unless you stayed, just for tonight, of course," Quinn whispered, his eyes pleading as you bit your lip nervously. "And we could go again?"

You felt your cheeks heat as your eyes darkened.

"Just once more?"

Quinn nudged your chin with a finger, causing both of your lips to graze as a soft breath escaped yours.

"Oh, sweet girl, I plan on taking you multiple times tonight, if you let me."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?"

tags: @quintinh43 @hughes86-43 @josierosie @starswin @ashes2ashesweallfall @megaluke @coldheartedmar @snailss @rhino-saurus @lupinslibraries @alwaysclassyeagle @ru-kru @xaelia-au @dreamsarebig

#wineauntie #quinn hughes x reader #nhl x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fanfic #kiwi – wineauntie #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes

[heartateasee]

“Attention”

boyfriend!Harry x you

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: unprotected sex, sir kink, mutual masturbation and squirting

Plot: Your boyfriend, Harry, is CEO for a big company, and you’ve been feeling neglected lately. Being bored at home alone causes you to think of the perfect idea to capture his attention.

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You wandered across the hardwood floors of your boyfriend’s house. House was putting it lightly. Your boyfriend practically owned a mansion. But regardless of him owning a mansion, it didn’t make up for the neglect you had been feeling for almost the past two weeks.

Harry had been your boyfriend for a little over three years now, and you made the decision to move in with him almost a year ago. Your relationship was honestly nothing short of perfect. A year into your relationship you were able to quit your job as he wanted to support you fully, and things only got better once you moved in. He doted on you, and gave you everything that you could possibly want.

At first you felt bad, telling him that he was doing too much, and that you were more than happy just being with him. Harry didn’t like that answer. He wanted you to know how much he loved you. Whether that was in public, in the bedroom, or contained in your shopping bags - Harry wanted you to know.

Your boyfriend was a busy man. You knew this from the start of your relationship, but you felt more lonely recently. It wasn’t like the two of you to go without sex for so long. It was a Friday, and this coming Sunday, it will have been two weeks since the two of you have been intimate.

Now that you think of it, this may be the longest you’ve gone since the first time you gave yourselves over to each other.

As you made your way back into your bedroom, you sat on the foot of your bed. Your eyes slipped shut, as you reminisced about the last time he had his way with you - despite an interruption.

Harry’s large hand was around your throat as his chest was pressed against your back. Both of you were on your side, still a bit hazy due to the early morning, but even on the weekends Harry’s body woke him up at dawn. His prick was thrusting in and out of your barely awakened cunt as you mewled and moaned into the open air of your bedroom. Despite being groggy, you could hear the sound of your arousal bouncing off the walls.

“My good fucking girl,” Harry growled lowly in your ear, his voice still rough from sleep. “Taking me so well - every inch.”

Your hand reached behind to grasp at his hip, and you could feel your fingertips denting into his skin. This was one of your favorite positions. It was so easy, and slightly lazy, but it just always felt right. 

He dropped his hand from your throat, and he coasted it down your chest to knead one of your breasts as he continued to consume you.

“Are you, angel? Are you my good girl?”

You gasped as he tugged at your nipple, causing you to drop your head back against his shoulder as he continued his pleasurable taking of your drenched pussy.

“Yes,” you huffed. “Your good girl. Only yours.”

Your hazy eyes watched as Harry smirked, and he dragged his hand back up to cup the underside of your chin. His lips met yours in a sloppy, and tortuous kiss before the shrill of his phone cut through your lust.

“Ignore it, please,” you begged, your other hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, but his free hand was already reaching behind him to locate the inconvenient device on his nightstand. You rolled your eyes when you heard him answer it, and as much as you knew he tried not to, his hips stilled.

“What?” Harry snapped into the phone, still caressing over your ribs and your side. “I’m busy.”

You could hear a muffled voice on the other side, and you rolled your eyes again. Your hand around his wrist gripped a bit harder to pull his hand off your chin - maneuvering your way through the silk sheets away from him. It caused him to slip out of you, and you could tell he tried to suppress a groan from the sensation.

You didn’t get very far until you felt Harry’s arm around your waist, pulling you right back to where you were. As much as you tried to fight against his grasp, you knew you were useless. You weren’t fighting the sex because you didn’t want it, you were fighting it because you were annoyed.

His fingertips prodded against your soaked entrance for a moment before you felt his arousal-ridden tip enter you again. Harry was so slick with your want, and as much as you wanted to resist, the fact he still wanted you while taking a business call had your head reeling.

“What do you mean he hasn’t counter offered?” Harry’s thrusts delved further into you as your fingers grasped to the pillowcase under your head.

His large hand trailed down your leg until he threw it over his hip, and you let out the loudest moan of the morning when you felt him so deep.

“Well, if he doesn’t want to meet our demands, then find someone else to go through with it,” Harry strained as he continued to satiate your needs. “But I can’t draw this out too much longer. Not right now.”

Whimpering, you reached around to grasp at his torso, fingernails digging into his skin. You needed him, every bit of him, and you knew he was trying to give it to you. 

Harry hissed at the sting from your nails, but he didn’t care - he liked a little bit of pain. “Figure it the fuck out. I’ll be at the office within the hour.”

His phone was thrown onto the floor, and his arms enveloped you. Letting out a huff of surprise, your back met his chest even further, and his cock continued to ease your every ache.

“Y-you answered your phone,” you whined, hands gripping to his forearms. “While you were inside me.”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “And?”

You frowned, your body jolting with each of his thrusts. “They knew what was happening, H.”

“So what if they did? ‘S their fault anyway - bothering me on my day off,” his lips sponged against your neck before you felt him nipping at the hinge of your jaw. “Now c’mon, angel. Need you to get my cock all wet.”

Just the thought of him stretching you out had your thighs pressing together, and you opened your eyes to look at your phone on the nightstand. You grabbed it and quickly clicked on his name to call him, and you put the device up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, H,�� you said softly as you fiddled with a stray string on your comforter.

“Is everything alright, angel? You usually never call like this.”

It was true. You didn’t call during his work days because you didn’t know if you’d be disrupting something important, and you didn’t want to bother him.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I just…I’m feeling a little-”

“Richard, no, that’s not the number we agreed to,” Harry cut you off, and that’s when you could hear other voices in the background. “No, you tell him it’s either that or nothing at all.”

You go quiet as you hear a bit more back and forth before Harry is clearing his throat.

“Sorry about that, baby. What were you saying?”

Sighing, you shook your head as you pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger. “Nothing, it’s nothing. Do you know when you’ll be home this evening? I’d like to know when to start getting dinner ready.”

“I don’t know right now, I’m sorry. We’re getting really close to sealing this deal, and I don’t want to lose it. I may have to stay pretty late today to make sure it gets done.”

You dropped your hand into your lap as you felt tears welling in your eyes. They were tears of sadness, and frustration. You missed your boyfriend, and even though he’s been home after work in the evenings, you felt as if you hadn’t seen him at all these last few days.

Once he comes in from work, he sits at the table with his already made dinner that you worked so hard on, and silence blankets the table. You don’t ask how work is because when he’s quiet like that you know it’s either not good, or he’s extremely stressed. He won’t ask how your day has been, or what you got up to to entertain yourself.

As you wash the dishes, he’s already up in your en-suite - taking a shower before hauling himself away inside his home office. You're left to bathe alone and you tuck yourself into bed. Alone. It’s not until the wee hours of the morning that you’ll feel him get into bed beside you, but he doesn’t hold you. It all feels so empty.

“Okay,” you responded, shaking your head. “I’ll just put your plate in the fridge for whenever you get home. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“You sound upset,” Harry said, and although you could hear the concern in his voice, it still didn’t make you feel any better.

“Maybe I am,” you laughed. “I feel like I haven’t seen you lately.”

“Are you serious? You see me every day at home. We have dinner together every night. We sleep in the same bed. What do you mean you don’t see me?” His tone now had a bit of annoyance to it, and that set you off.

“Just because you’re here, Harry, doesn’t mean you’re actually here. Mentally you’re still at work, and focused on whatever deal you’re making at the time. I’m left to entertain myself all day, and now I’m stuck doing it at night too. It never used to be this way.”

“Do you understand that if I don’t take care of these deals then we won’t have a roof over our heads? That we won’t have food on our table, and that you won’t be able to go out and just buy whatever you want? This is my job, Y/N. You knew who I was when you started dating me. I’m a busy man.”

“God, you’re not even listening,” you groaned, tears now streaming down your cheeks. “We’ll talk later. Whenever you get home, I guess.”

You could still hear him speaking as you ended the call, and you dropped your phone onto the bed. Pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm yourself as best as possible.

It hurt that he didn’t see the point that you were trying to get across to him. Instead you were met with aggression, and misunderstanding. 

Once you gathered yourself, you stood up from the bed and began to walk into your en-suite, but you stopped as your eyes lingered on the drawer of your nightstand. The drawer housed every toy that you and Harry owned, and regardless of being upset, you were still extremely frustrated sexually.

Then the lightbulb went off in your head.

You knew just how to get your boyfriend’s attention.

Making your way into the en-suite, you bring out your curling iron, and you style some soft waves in your hair. You apply a little bit of mascara to your lashes, just enough to give them some volume before you head into your closet.

You pulled out a lingerie set, one that you knew was Harry’s favorite, and you paired it with some sheer white knee high stockings. Tying a white silk robe around your body, you opened your nightstand drawer, and you grabbed your medium-sized pink vibrator.

Harry had several cameras in the house, and you knew that they went off when motion was detected. Most of the time he’d look at the notification on his phone, check the footage to make sure it was you, and that everything was okay before he’d move along. But today, you knew just how to get him to stay focused on one particular camera.

With your phone in one hand, and your vibrator in the other, you made your way into his home office. You never come in here when he isn’t home, so you knew the notification that motion was coming from this room would intrigue him immediately.

You’d be getting his attention. You knew he would call you.

You kept your eyes on the camera as you made your way around his desk, pushing his computer chair to the side so that it didn’t block the view of you once you perched yourself up onto the desk. Tilting your head to the side, you placed both your vibrator and your phone down before leaning back against the wooden surface - palms down on the top of it.

You pushed yourself up to where you were now sitting right in the middle on the top of his desk, and you brought your fingers down to play with the tie of your robe before undoing it. You let it fall off your shoulders slowly, and then you threw it off to the side.

Biting down on your bottom lip, you ghosted your hands over the swells of your breasts that spilled so deliciously over the cups of your lingerie. As you started down towards your core, you heard Harry’s ringtone cutting through the silence, and you smirked as you looked back up to the camera.

You blindly reached down and accepted the call - putting it on speaker.

“Hel-”

“What do you think you’re doing, Y/N?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You asked as you batted your eyelashes up at the lens, pursing your lips into a pout. “I’m just trying to take care of myself - find something to entertain me while you’re busy providing for us.”

You heard him scoff on the other line, and you trailed the tip of your finger over the vibrator that was still laying next to your thigh.

“I figured that if I did it in here, it would be like I was closer to you since this is where you’ve been spending all your time at home lately. Still smells like you from last night.”

Maybe you were being a little mean, but you didn’t care at this point. You wanted him to know you were upset, and just how much this was hurting you.

“Y/N,” you could hear the restraint in his voice. He didn’t want to give into you, but you knew you’d have him cracking in no time.

“Yes, sir?”

“You're being a little brat.”

“Am I?” You tilted your head to the side as you picked the vibrator up, trailing the tip of it over the top of your thigh. “I thought you’d be happy that I found something to do to occupy my time since you’re too busy for me.”

You heard Harry saying some names through the phone, and you could tell he was letting people he’d be busy for a moment. He told them not to disturb him for a bit, and he’d let them know when he was available again. You knew he was probably speaking to his assistant that sat right outside his office door.

It wasn’t until you heard the sound of the door shutting, and the click of him locking it, that you felt anticipation swirling in your lower abdomen.

“Interrupting me during my work? I’d say that’s brat behavior.”

“Well, it seems like you don’t mind the interruption too much since you’re still watching me. And you’re still on the phone with me, aren’t you?”

Clicking the button on the bottom of the toy, you feel the vibrations flow through your thigh before you slide it over to rest on the top of your mound.

Harry remained silent, but you heard the unbuckling of his belt, and the noise of his zipper being pulled down.

“Touching yourself at work, hm?” You taunted, and you gasped out as you pressed the tip of the vibrator to your covered clit.

“What else do you expect me to do? Just sit here and watch you get off?”

Humming, you tilted your head to the side. “Honestly, that would seem fair to me. It might be nice to have you feel a little neglected for once. Then you’d know what I’ve felt like for almost two weeks.”

“Two weeks…fuck,” you could tell that Harry was actually surprised to realize the span of time. “Has it really been that long, angel?”

“Mhmm,” you started to move the toy in slow circles, your toes curling in your stockings. “Been lonely, sir.”

“Shit, I’m ‘s sorry, baby. I didn’t think it had been that long. Can’t believe I’ve left you needy. You know I don’t like doing that to you.”

You hadn’t realized your eyes slipped shut, so you fluttered them open - looking back to the camera. Parting your lips, you let out a lewd moan as you applied more pressure against your needy pearl, and you arched your back so your pretty cleavage was pushed out for him to see.

“Looking so beautiful, sweetheart. ‘Y wear that set just for me?”

You nodded as you fought to keep your eyes open. “I know it’s your favorite,” you breathed as you rested your cheek against your shoulder. “How are you touching yourself?”

“Just palming myself over my briefs right now - squeezing myself a little. Teasing myself for you,” Harry panted, and you clenched down around nothing at the vision his words brought you.

“Good.”

You pulled the underwear part of your lingerie to the side, lifting the vibrator up the slightest bit just to put it right back down against your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Tell me how wet you are,” Harry huffed into the phone, and you moved your free hand down to circle your entrance - being met immediately with your arousal.

“So wet, sir. Already dripping,” you told him before slipping a finger inside as you upped the vibrations on your toy.

Your hips bucked up against your palm and the vibrator, and soon you heard the sound of Harry spitting through the phone.

You knew he was spitting into his hand, and it caused a shudder to run up your spine.

“Did you pull yourself out?”

“Yeah, I had to. I’m rock fucking hard, angel. It was starting to hurt,” Harry spoke into the phone, and you started to hear the sounds of his wet hand sliding over his shaft. 

“How does it feel?” You dipped another finger inside, beginning to curl them to graze your g spot as you felt the familiar burning in your lower abdomen - your thighs attempting to pull themselves together as you neared your orgasm.

“Feels good, but not as good as you. Wish it was your tight little cunt squeezing me - not my hand.”

You moaned at his words, and his shallow breaths mixed with the noise of your toy, and your fingers, filled the room. “And I wish it was you inside me, and not my fingers. It feels good, but it’s not enough.”

“Slip another finger in for me, Y/N. Make it three. I know you won’t be as full as if you were full of me, but it’ll get you there.”

You knew this information yourself, but you liked him coaching you through it. There was something so insanely sexy about this whole thing, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this would become a new norm for the two of you.

Gliding another finger into your slick entrance, you really started to feel your orgasm creeping in, and you applied more pressure to your swollen bud.

“Cut that lingerie, baby. I want to see properly.”

“But…but this is your favorite-”

“Y/N, cut it. I’ll buy you another. There’s scissors on my desk.”

You whimpered as you slid your fingers out of yourself so that you could reach behind and grab the scissors. Once they were in your hand, you carefully separated the blades over the underwear and snipped it - having it fall completely open.

Immediately, you plunged your three fingers back inside, and you began to pulse them in and out at a harder rate now that you had more room to work with.

“I can hear how drenched you are through the phone. That’s so fucking sexy, and you look so fucked right now. Never gonna have you go without again, you hear me?”

Whining, you nodded your head in response to his words. “Please don’t, Harry. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, baby. When I get home, I’m going to give it to you so nice, and deep. I’m gonna make you feel how sorry I am. I’m gonna let you know that this won’t ever happen again,” Harry grunted, and you could hear that he had picked up the pace of him fucking his prick into his fist.

Knowing your next move would send you over the edge, you pressed the pad of your thumb against the button of the toy one more time so that it was on the highest intensity, and as much as you wanted to close your legs down around your hand, you forced them open more.

“I’m about to come, sir,” you moaned, curling your fingers to rub the tips of them over your spongy spot over and over. “It’s…oh, it’s going to be a lot.”

“Come for me, angel. Let me see it. Let me hear you.”

As your orgasm began to wash over you, you pulled the vibrator away from your clit as your climax sprayed across the inside of your thighs, and across the top of Harry’s desk. You continued to grind your ass against the wood to meet the aggressive thrusts of your hand, keeping your orgasm going as more and more liquid left you.

“Oh my fuck,” Harry gasped into the phone, and it quickly turned into a moan. “Got me coming all over my hand - all over my stomach. Holy shit.”

You felt yourself clench down around your fingers harder when the noises of Harry spreading his come over his length filled your ears, and you let out one final gush of your own orgasm before you began to slow down.

Your chest heaved up and down, and you whimpered as you removed your fingers.

“Clean them up.”

With your hand still trembling from the aftermath of your climax, you held out your tongue as you wiped your fingers over the pad of it before sealing your lips down around them. Harry hummed as your eyes fluttered shut, and you felt yourself starting to come back down to earth.

“My good girl,” Harry cooed, and you opened your eyes again to send him a dazed smile through the camera. “My gorgeous angel. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you sighed as you lazily nodded your head. “Really good.”

“I’m so glad ‘m love. I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention to what you were trying to tell me earlier, and I want to talk about it more when I get home, okay? I don’t want to let this happen again.”

“Okay, H. Thank you for hearing me.”

“I’m sorry for not doing it sooner. I’ll see you shortly. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And angel?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Go ahead and plan on being on all fours on the bed when you hear me come in the front door. We’re starting as soon as I get home.”

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry edward styles #harry styles ff #harry styles smut #harry styles smutty fanfic #harry styles dirty fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry smut #fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #ceo!harry #ceo!harry styles #boyfriend!harry #boyfriend!harry styles #harry styles smutty blurb #boyfriend!harry styles x you #boyfriend!harry styles x y/n #boyfriend!harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry x you #harry x y/n #harry x reader

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Twenty-Five: Joel Miller + Pregnancy

Your belly wasn't huge just yet. Four months along and you were growing more beautiful by the day. Joel was scared at first when you told him that you were pregnant. Then all that feared melted away into happiness. A deep seeded happiness he hadn't felt in a long time. Not to say that you didn't make him happy, Joel just never thought he'd get the chance again.

You'd grown fuller in the days leading up to the fourth month of your pregnacy. Your hips a little bit wider, shirt a little bit tighter that were already opting to borrow Joels much looser shirts.

The thing that Joel loved the most about your pregnancy so far had been the way your breasts had only grown along side your belly.

Joel would lay next to you almost every morning. His head pressed into the soft plush breasts that had become his new pillows over the past few months.

This morning was like no other, Joel's black curls tickling your exposed skin as the morning sun fluttered in through moth eaten curtains. Your arm wrapped around the older man in a gently, and doting way. You didn't dare move as not to stir the man awake.

You just watched as his body moved up and down with every long and deep breathe he took. His head once again rested in the valley of your breasts. You moved your hand slightly in an effort to comb through the black curls that were peppered with grey.

"Good mornin' sweetheart." Joels morning voice is a mix of just the right amount of texas drawl, and rusty morning voice and it makes you heat up instantly. "Mornin' baby." Continuing to stare down at Joel, "You know starin' is rude." You roll your eyes.

Joel moves ever so slightly to get a bit more comfortable. "Look at that belly of yours." Joel loves the way you look, and loves it even more now that you have started wearing his clothes. Right now though is his favorite. Your naked body under a thin layer of sheet. You're beautiful, and everything to him.

You can feel the hard on Joel is sporting as it presses into your thigh. He ruts into your plushy thighs a few times absent mindly. 'So pretty in the mornin' baby. Did you know that?" He asks, you hum closing your eyes. As Joel starts to caress his hands up and down your body. Doing circles on your protruding belly.

"Ya did? I think I'll tell you again just how much I love your body." Joel whispers into your skin. His hands are getting ever so closer to your heat. You can't help but want to lure him in, so you spread your legs open.

"Are you trying to seduce me darlin'?" Joel asks, sounding more awake by the second. "Maybe." You tease, he eyes you for a moment longer before reaching down between your open thighs. Collect two fingers worth of slick. When he brings his hand from between your legs. You watch as he archs a brow, and then sticks his fingers into his mouth.

Moaning around them, "Taste so sweet for me baby." He murmurs. Joels shifts once again. His elbow digging into the bed, giving him a better advantage as he take a nipple into his mouth. He sucks on the bud bringing it to life as then he starts to divide his attention. His mouth plays with your tit, and his hand plays with your clit.

Wet fingers playing and teasing your clit sends shotting nevers up and down your back. Moans hit the twenty plus year old walls in the small apartment. When Joel slips two of his longest fingers into you, your wet walls pull him in. He pulls off of your harden, and redden nipple with a smirk. "So fuckin' tight sweetheart. God I fuckin' love it." His hips rut into yours, as you feel his hard on pulse againt you.

"I can feel you pulsing agasint my fingers, you turned on by just my mouth, and fingers baby?" It's not really a question to be answered, Joel already knows that answer. As he continues to finger you, your head falling back into the pillow. Legs starting to twitch, Joel can see all that you're right on the edge.

Your breathing picks up, your legs start to shake harder then ever before. Your toes curl as your walls tighten around Joels fingers. "There's you go sweetness, cum all over my fingers baby. Do it for me." He doesn't need to coax you but you fall over the edge at his words.

Once again moans boucnes on the wall, and your thigh feels sticky. Joel doesn't take long to get up cleaning up his mess on him, and your thigh before taking care of you. A water for you to sip on. "Damn hot mama." He says as he walks stark naked back into the room. Holding that water in his hands. "You're so beautiful baby." He says as he lays back down in his spot.

Completed on: 08/14/23

Posted on: 10/25/23

Kinktober 23- @lanad3lreyscokewhor3 @homelanderscumdump @hummusxx@chvnsdimple @vvitzvafflezvv @lokisivy @claud-blood0703 @iliketoreads-stuff @all-that-glitters-is-treasure@clearscissorsbonkgiant-blog @lxonix--ac @piecesofx @mortallyswimmingpainter @playwithfire99 @fucak @everythingneytiri @lovetheos @xxxxxoseungxoooo @durazopato @hotpead42069 @oddseabiscuit @capoda @witching-hour @viviwows @lover103 @alexlovesfiction @katiecat10 @electricfans @jianasmind @max-505 @powerbun21o @the-horny-simp @missy420-0 @jaq-dav @arescosplays

The Last Of Us Master list // Kinktober '23

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller headcanon #joel miller fluff #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller pregnancy #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller the last of us fanfiction #pre-outbreak #the last of us pre outbreak #fluff #fem reader #female reader #requests are open #open requests #requests open #the last of us x reader #kinktober writing #kinktober 23 #kinktober day 25

[halcyonwrld]

— A LATE BREAKFAST

PAIRING. Jennie Kim x Reader

With a big test coming up, you and your girlfriend make a bet to see who can stay awake the longest during your study date. Ultimately, you win. This is a brief glimpse of the cozy morning afternoon that follows. (1.3K)

TAGS. college!au, just some good ol’ domestic fluff, a suggestive mention or two, playful mention of suffocating 💀

Waking up feels like transitioning out of a daze and headfirst into a living daydream. Everything feels warm and hazy. Sunlight pours in slats through the blinds. Distantly, you register the sound of the humming air conditioner, and the soft lull of music from the apartment above you.

Being inside of these four walls brings you a feeling you can only describe as pure comfort. The kind that makes you wish you could stay in bed forever.

You yawn as you come to, sluggishly scanning your apartment.

The TV is on, paused on Netflix’s home screen.

With a groan, you stretch, careful of Kuma at the foot of the bed. The joints in your legs crack with a satisfying pop of pressure. That satisfaction is shortlived; you can’t help but grimace as you notice your arm is trapped.

Jennie snores softly against your shoulder, blissfully unaware of your predicament at the moment. Your girlfriend is practically on her stomach with the way she’s curled into you, black hair mussed wildly about on her forehead, arms contorted in such an awkward way you wonder how she’s sleeping so peacefully.

She’s lucky she’s cute.

You try to pull your arm, but no give. And an annoying blunt something is digging into your waist.

Turning fully onto your side, you blindly fumble with your hand underneath the sheets. You realize it’s your phone as soon as you get ahold of it.

Turning it on— your eyes widen: it’s nearly 2 in the afternoon! You can’t believe you’ve actually slept the entire morning away. Again.

It takes you mumbling her name at least three times before Jennie begins to rouse from her sleep. (Though, you think it's your weak movements attempting to free your arm that truly wakes her.)

She squints at the light, immediately screwing her eyes shut. Then, she loops an arm around your waist and nuzzles into your chest. “Five more minutes…” she murmurs, the ghost of her lips tickling your sternum.

“Jen…” you warn.

Like a child, she whines an indignant noise, burrowing further into your warmth.

You roll your eyes before you press a patient kiss to the top of her head. Your stomach grumbles; of course she smells like blueberries, of course.

“You… you know that you fell asleep first, right?” you murmur through a yawn, teasing despite the sleepy haze that still has a grip on you both.

"Mmm, no I didn't,” she rasps, lying straight through her teeth, “you fell asleep before me, but-"

"But nothing- unless… you have proof that I don’t?”

She goes quiet at that.

Too quiet.

"Babe… you're gonna fall asleep in five more minutes, and-” You huff, yanking your arm from underneath her. Tingles shoot down to your cold fingertips as the blood begins to flow back into your veins. “I need to piss."

Jennie groans. "Just hold it."

You scoff, pushing her away by the forehead. "How about I suffocate you instead?"

"Ugh… fine.”

Jennie rolls onto her back, allowing you to move. She cocoons herself in the sheets to the neck after you stand. Watches you with puffy, low eyes as you round the bed.

“Delete the photos… I know you have so many terrible pictures.”

You scoop up a random shirt from the floor, sending her a lovesick smile when your head pops out of the top. “Babe, please… you’re the most photogenic person I know.”

“Blegh,” she complains, face scrunched as she tugs your pillow over her head, “Too cheesy.”

You giggle as you make your way to the bathroom.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Jagiya…"

You hum at the term of endearment, glancing at your girl as you tug on a random pair of grey sweatpants, foamy toothbrush stuck to your jaw.

Jennie looks far more awake. In the time you’ve spent in the bathroom, she’s propped a pillow underneath her head, and found her phone. The sheets have slipped just below her collarbones, revealing the straps of her lace bra.

She places her phone on her stomach when you look at her, giving you her full attention. That soft stare of hers doesn't fail to give you butterflies.

"Thought you only needed the bathroom?" she asks.

You shrug. "Well, now I'm hungry."

She smirks. "No need to leave, I'm right here."

You roll your eyes and head back to the bathroom to finish up, ignoring her call of complaint.

"Since we missed breakfast, m’gonna make some. Want something specific?" you call before you turn on the shower for her, knowing she preferred to first thing in the morning.

You step out to hear her clearly, leaning your weight against the doorframe. She’s staring at herself in the ceiling mirror, rubbing an eye.

"Toast please,” she mumbles sweetly.

You hum, then collect all of your textbooks and loose papers from last night and shove them into your bag.

"What is-"

You look over.

Jennie is sitting up now, blankets bunched around her hips and a familiar paper in her hands. She smooths out a yellow sticky note, and you wince to yourself as she squints to read it, already knowing what it is.

She holds it up for you to see, eyebrows raised. "Really?"

You can barely make it out from where you’re standing, but you don't need to. You remember lazily scribbling the words ‘LOSER’ on it last night. Along with the click of your camera taking an incredible amount of pictures after sticking it to her forehead… how your drowsy laughter flooded the room as she didn't budge not once, too comfortable in your presence to once rouse from her sleep.

And yeah, maybe one of those pictures is your wallpaper right now, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

"Oh, where did that come from?” you drawl, scratching your head and glaring at the slip of paper as if you didn’t recognize it. “Weird.”

“Yeah… so weird.”

You glance around, trying to ignore the feeling of her knowing gaze burning holes into your face. Kuma scratches insistently at the door, whining. "Oh, Kuma needs to pee. Gotta go!" you rush, happy to have an out.

You swing open the door and let the canine rush out ahead of you, phone in hand as you escape Jennie’s grumbles to herself.

"Y/n!"

You pause mid-step down the hall, a suspicious squint to nothing in particular. Your girlfriend actually sounds upset. Kuma continues on without either of you, nails clicking against the floors as he jogs around the corner, not a care in the world as he races to the kitchen.

You shove your phone into your back pocket as you walk back to the room. You peek inside, blinking innocently as possible. "What?"

Steam wafts from the bathroom. Jennie is on the edge of the bed in nothing but a bra and some sweats, tying up her hair into a ponytail. The simple image of all of her beauty in a haze of golden light, is a sight that makes you swallow, hard.

She turns toward you, mischievous eyes brightening when she sees you've come back for her.

"Kiss please?" she begs in a voice you know all too well. She reaches out, expectant. Pleading with an expression that makes you a little weak in the knees.

Definitely a trap.

You’ll give her a 9/10 for effort, but you know any tricks she has up her sleeve will only prolong your day even further. Typically, you wouldn’t mind, but you’re nowhere near ready for an interrogation about the pictures you took last night, and you know she’s wondering.

You match her scheming smile, pretending to her request over. "Hm…. you can get all of the kisses you want, after you get up and brush your teeth.”

Just to be annoying, you blow one to her before you leave.

Jennie groans dramatically as you shut the door behind you.

#blackpink imagines #blackpink x reader #jennie kim x reader #jennie kim imagine #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #gg x reader #gg imagines #blackpink fanfic #halcyonfics

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 15: morning after

Here I need to make a clarification. As you know, English is not my first language and from what I was able to research about this day's prompt it was like "a morning after doing something you might regret" or "a morning with a hangover", so that's what I wrote about. It's honestly my favorite (and the longest) so far and I hope you like it, reblog or tell me in the comments if you do!

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

tw: mention of alcohol, implied smut, nudity, stuff like that (but everything is fluff!)

The first thing Spencer felt when he woke up was the stab of pain shooting through his head, followed by the sun streaming through the window gently warming his body. Everything was spinning for him and he didn't even remember how he got to his apartment the night before, because as a birthday gift the whole team had decided to take him to a bar and somehow, they had managed to completely intoxicate him with alcohol.

He had drunk before but not to that level, so it was the first time he had experienced a hangover of that magnitude. He tried to get up as slowly as possible and once he was sitting on the edge of the mattress he sighed and rubbed his face with both hands to wake up a little. As his vision cleared, he could make out the floor of the room and opened his eyes wide when he noticed a piece of clothing that was definitely not his: a pair of black lace panties. He scanned the rest of the place and also found a matching bra and dress, and his surprise was even greater when he turned on the mattress to find a female body covered by a thin sheet.

The memories of him hit him worse than the hangover and suddenly all his blood rushed to his face. The night before, when he had begun to feel the effects of alcohol, everyone seemed to become lighter, so when a beautiful woman approached to talk to him, he didn’t hesitate to respond to the chat. Even Derek was surprised at how charming his friend was when he wasn't worried about what people thought of him, and it was a good thing the girl enjoyed hearing interesting facts about absolutely anything. If Spencer had ever read about flirting tips that was the moment he applied them and no one was surprised when the birthday boy was dragged to the back of the bar, to probably be kissed like never before in his life.

He remembered that after making out in the dark you had asked if you could accompany him somewhere more private and he had naively offered his apartment. The images of what had happened made him feel completely ashamed and at that moment he hated his eidetic memory a little, because he could see over and over again your trembling body on top of his and hear the noises with which both of you had filled the room.

He had never done anything like that in his life and he didn't even believe he was capable of sleeping with a girl he had just met, probably for fear of not being good enough or of contracting some kind of disease. But, luckily, he searched his mind and realized that neither had happened and the evidence of a metal wrapper on the nightstand calmed him down.

He almost jumped out of his seat when he felt you shifting on the mattress and turned around immediately so as not to risk you catching him looking at you or, worse yet, seeing your naked body.

“Hey,” he heard behind you, your voice slightly raspy, and he tensed completely when he felt your hand caress the skin of his back “Good morning.”

“Huh… hello,” he replied, still not looking at you. Total nervousness could be heard in his voice and you wanted to believe that it wasn't out of regret, or else your heart would have broken a little.

"Are you okay?"

“Yes,” he replied quietly. He gathered his courage and turned slightly in your direction, only to find your soft, worried eyes looking down at him “And you?”

“A little sore, but everything is fine”

Your smile was sweet and your face was so cheerful that Spencer feared he had slept with a teenager. But it wasn't like that, it was just that God had blessed you with natural beauty even with the after-effects of drunkenness and traces of smudged makeup.

"I am glad to hear that"

He couldn't see you bite your lower lip because he was too distracted by the reddish mark on your shoulder that he had left last night and you interpreted his distracted attitude as clear disinterest, without imagining that there was a whole revolution of emotions inside him. 

You moved under the covers and when you got out of bed Spencer looked away, as if he wanted to respect your privacy by avoiding seeing your nakedness. With some embarrassment you began to look for your clothes throughout the room to put them on, ready to leave the place with the little dignity you had left. But when you sleep with the most handsome guy in the bar, those are things you take risks, right?

“Well, I guess I’ll go,” you said shyly, holding your bag close to you “It was nice meeting you.”

"Wait!" He stopped you almost immediately, not allowing you to go too far “I'm being rude, excuse me. “It's just… I'm not used to doing this much.”

“Oh, no, no, I don't either. Don't think I'm..."

"No! I wasn't suggesting that either," he continued, feeling like every time he spoke he was only making everything worse "It's just that yesterday he was really drunk and... well, I'm a little surprised at how things turned out."

“And did they end well or badly?”

“Well, or so I think,” he responded quickly. He wanted to tell you that he had loved the way you kissed him if it would take the worried look off your face, but the truth was that he didn't even know if he could say the words without feeling nervous. “What I want to say is that I hope I was… good.” 

“You were” you express him sincerely. If he had told you that he was inexperienced in the area you wouldn’t have believed him at all “I hope you can say the same about me.”

"Yeah. I'm just worried that we were too drunk."

“So drunk that you would do something you regret?”

“No, more like having forced you to do something that you regret”

So that was his fear of it? That caught you a little off guard, as you didn't know if it was for fear of legal reprisals or if he was really caring about your integrity. From the gentle way he said it and the expression with which he looked at you, you wanted to believe it was the latter, after all he seemed like a good man and nothing in the apartment looked dangerous. I mean, most of the things that were out there were books and science objects, nothing that screamed get out of here or I'm a jerk. 

“Don’t worry, I think we both had fun,” you reassured him. “I thought I heard something about it being your birthday, is that true?”

"Yes, it was"

“I hope I didn't ruin it,” you murmured, sounding honest, because your judgment was too clouded the night before to react coherently.

Of course you hadn't ruined his birthday, how could you? You were a pretty girl who had spent the night with him and now that Spencer was looking at you more closely, he realized how lucky he had been that someone like you had set her sights on him.

“You don't have to leave if you don't want to,” he added, trying his luck a little. “If you allow me to change, we can get something for breakfast and… chat.”

“Do you want to do that?”

“It wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me to just throw you out of my apartment, would it?” He replied and your brow furrowed in disbelief. That man was seriously strange, but in the good sense of the word “I'm Spencer Reid, by the way.”

"I know who you are. You told me last night,” you laughed, a little moved by the shyness he suddenly seemed to have, very different from his behavior at the bar.

"So? You will stay?"

You remained silent and analyzed your options. You never imagined that the man would ask you to stay after what you thought would be your first one-night stand, yet you had ended up in that situation.

"Yes, I will”

“Cool,” he sighed, putting on the sweetest smile you had ever seen.

Was this boy real or had you entered into a hallucination?

“I’ll wait for you… huh… outside, okay?” a part of you wanted to listen to your own words, but suddenly the other felt the urge to do something, impulsive and stupid like everything you had done the night before. “But first, can you allow me to do something?”

“Sure, what is it about?”

You didn't respond verbally, but instead took a few steps in his direction and finally crashed your lips into his, hearing him let out a moan of astonishment. Now that you felt soberer you realized that kissing him was pleasant and you hadn't just thought about it because of the effects of the alcohol.

“I just wanted one more, in case my conversation ends up boring you and we never see each other again” you exclaimed playfully, without giving him time to respond because before he could react you had already jumped on tiptoe towards the exit.

He smiled when he saw that and began to pick up the clothes scattered on the floor, willing to get to know your mind better after having explored so many places on your body.

While he was getting dressed he thought that, for the first time he had brought a stranger home, things were looking great.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2023 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

[acapelladitty]

Captain Boomerang/Female Reader - Unexpected Visit

Summary - Digger interrupts a 'private' moment and the fallout is more fun that you could have anticipated.

It wasn’t the fact that you were two fingers deep in your cunt - curled digits stroking along those sensitive parts within your walls that made your breath stutter as your toes curled against the sheets. It wasn’t even the fact that your bed directly faced the door which Digger was currently filling like he owned the place.

No.

The issue was the headshot of Digger which lay clenched in your free hand and the fact that the shit-eating grin on his face told you that he had heard you moaning his name as you stroked frantically along your aching clit.

“Thinking about old Digger, eh?” Digger announced, his laughter somewhere between a growl and a giggle as he palmed his rapidly-stiffening cock with his left hand. “Maybe, if ya ask nicely, I’ll see fit to replace those fingers with something almost twice as big and throbbin’ for a quick root.”

Shame burning across your face, the heat in your cheeks as your fingers pull free of your hole with an obscenely wet noise flares in an instant; your throat tightening across the moan which threatened to break free as he pulled his fat cock from his jeans and gave it a quick tug, readying it for a chance at your willing hole.

x-x-x-x-x

Not that he was bad at it. Far from it. What he lacked in practised technique he more than made up for in enthusiasm as he quickly read the signs of what movements made your thighs tighten around his ears as your lips moaned and vibrated around his fat cock. His beard and muttonchops even provided a wonderful sensation as the graze of the coarse hair on your thighs and soaked cunt added a layer of burning discomfort that made you writhe all the more desperately in place.

Following your embarrassing little impromptu show, Digger seemed determined to experiment with various positions and it had been his stellar idea to indulge in some mutual oral sex. His appetite was ravenous and even the very thorough fucking he had only just finished delivering didn't seem enough to appease him.

But still, even you had to admit that the man had a talent for suggesting amazing ideas which very quickly went awry.

So, no.

He wasn’t bad at it.

However, this did not prove to be the issue either.

But where Digger’s good idea went to die was in his decision to take the ‘below’ position in your sixty-nine adventure. A surprisingly gentlemanly choice given that he seemed to enjoy the sensation of you pinned beneath him, held in place by his thick frame while he railed you with a messy ferocity.

Being on top had suited you to begin with, the freedom of movement allowing you to set the pace as you hollowed out your cheeks and worked slowly around his pulsing shaft. His cock wasn’t the longest but the sheer girth of the thing made it a difficult task as any attempt at taking further into your mouth essentially plugged your throat entirely.

What Digger had failed to consider, when proposing this little game, was the impressive strength which you could muster with your inner thigh muscles and how tightly you were able to hold him – his face buried deep within your cunt as you rode your orgasm out on his thick features. In that wonderful moment, his natural need to breath was long disregarded and it wasn’t until his blunted nails dug bloodied crescents into your outer thighs that you recalled that little facet of the human condition and pulled yourself free of his face with a panting gasp.

“Not the worst way to go.” Digger exclaimed cheerily as he sucked in huge, desperate inhales of air. His lower face was a mess, glistening and visibly wet with your juices as his pink tongue lapped at his own lips like a particularly thirsty dog. “But I don’t think me old mum would appreciate a retellin' of the story at my eulogy.”

#captain boomerang #digger harkness #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomerang x you #digger harkness x reader #digger harkness x you #captain boomerang fic

[roanniom]

Eddie handcuffing your hands above your head to his bed frame. Eddie kissing you and playing with your tits until you’re begging for him to touch you where you need him. Eddie playing with you through your panties until you’re soaked through and bucking your hips so desperately that he’s threatening to tie your legs down too. Eddie finally taking your panties off and admiring the way you’re practically dripping onto his sheets. Eddie eating you out until you’re begging, begging for him to let you cum. Eddie fucking you until he finishes, never letting you cum, all the while saying the dirtiest things to you. Afterwards, he would unlock the handcuffs and make you cockwarm while he occasionally fucks up into you to keep you on edge. Every once in a while he might even rub your clit and tell you what a good girl you’re being for him.

Let Me

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex, cockwarming, dirty talk, bit of dom/sub dynamics, teasing / mocking, cream pies (and I guessss nondescript breeding kink by extension??)

You’re shaking and whimpering with need at this point. Your lip quivers and your brows knit and your thighs tense and what does he do? Eddie flips the channel on the tv. He places a soft kiss to your neck and rests his chin on your shoulder to face the glowing screen with your back to his chest. His hard cock nestled securely inside of you.

“E-Eddie…” you whine as quietly as you can. Another kiss is pressed to your neck.

“So full, huh sweetheart?” You moan and nod and his voice is full of a crude approximation of sympathy. “Oh I know, honey, I know. It’s so much for your little cunt.”

“I just…can I…can you p-please…”

“Shhhh sweetheart, we’re doing this now. Doesn’t it feel good?“ Eddie’s hands press down on your hips and swivel you around on his cock ever so slowly. The pressure and motion cause your jaw to drop in a gasp and your head to fall back against his shoulder.

“But wanna cum.” You sound almost petulant and he laughs in response. A rich, low laugh that sends much needed vibrations through your body where you’re joined, making your eyelids flutter.

“Ohhh, you wanna cum?” Eddie asks with fake surprise. As if he hadn’t been intentionally edging you, bringing you to the precipice and yanking you back at the last moment intentionally for the longest while.

“Yes,” you gasp, squirming in his lap. Or doing your best to, seeing as his grip is both effortless and immovable.

“Not enough to feel my dick inside you, honey? This greedy cunt wants to have its cock and cum, too?”

You’d probably laugh at that if you weren’t so far gone but you’re losing it so you just nod frenetically, hands scrabbling for purchase on his thighs. Anything to give you enough leverage to start bouncing yourself on his cock.

“Lemme…let…please,” you huff in frustration. Eddie’s hands slide up from your hips to squeeze at your tits. At the added stimulation you groan, gyrate your hips as best you could. Without his hands anchoring you down, you make more progress this time and you feel extra wetness dew around his cock inside you. You receive pinches to your nipples as penance for your liberty taking.

“Aww, wanna cum so bad you’re trying to just get yourself off on my cock?” His mocking tone sets you off more and you whimper again wordlessly. One of his hands leaves your breast and slides down to the apex of your spread legs to rub at your clit. “Why would you do that when you could have me play with you?”

“Oh god. Yes. Play with me,” you beg breathlessly.

“Oh sweetheart, what do you think I’ve been doing?” You can hear the humor but you barely register the words, instead abandoning all self control and jiggling yourself restlessly so that you bounce shallowly on his cock. “Getting a little impatient. A shame - you’ve been such a good girl.”

“I…I am a good girl,” you practically sob. His lips are at your ear, shushing you.

“Shhhh I know you are, baby. Took my cum so well. Keeping it up inside you so nice and warm. Making you feel so good and stuffed, yeah?”

He’d pushed his spend back into you with his fingers after pulling out following his last orgasm. Made you jerk him back to hardness with your legs spread in front of him, watching your cum filled pussy as he praised you and grunted. He’d pushed the dripping cum back into with his cock when he couldn’t take it anymore, and he was right, you do feel so full.

Eddie’s finger on your clit hits a new rotational rhythm and you spasm in his grasp, your abdomen clenching and pussy tightening around his cock.

“Mmm pressed this little button right, huh?”

“Yes!”

“Gonna cum if I let you, sweetheart?”

“Oh god oh fuck, Eddie let me, let me please…”

Eddie placed another sweet kiss to the side of your neck before whispering.

“Alright sweetheart, let me have it.”

And you fall apart for him on the spot.

#THANK YOU ANON SMUT FAIRY OMG #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson discourse #Eddie munson x you #stranger things smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader

[moooncats]

✿ Pick A Card ✿

✿ What Does Your Inner Child Think Of You? ✿

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✿ Pile 1 : Imagination , Chakra Clearing. ✿

Wow! This Pile so far is one of my favorites right off the back. Like seriously I RARELY ever pull out this elusive card and right off the bat.... blam! Haha what incredible energy we have here. So I'm hearing that your inner child is so stinking happy of the person that you've become. They love how you revel in the wondrous, mysterious, most beauteous power of your imagination, and let it whisk you away on a right-brained roomp through all things nonsensical, Suess plays Wonka style. To them, you're an off road adventurer, playing in the upside- down, glow-in-the-dark woods of posibility. There is no "no" here. Only "whoa!". And "flow". And "Holy moly, here we go!". (Hmmm maybe there was something in your brownies? c; ). Your inner child feels heard from you and is attentively hanging out with you feeling affirmed by every journey you set out to. I'm hearing "Your the best friend I could ever ask for." Omg pile 1 this is so effing sweet like seriously, they think you're such a cool, magical person. They wouldn't have it any other way! (:

✿ Advice From Your Inner Child ✿

Chakra Cleansing: Archangel Metatron: "Call upon me to clear and open your chakra's, using sacred geometric shapes. Your inner child want's to make sure that you are taking care of yourself and not over extending your energy ♡. Please make sure to cleanse your aura every once in a while. You can take a bath with essential oils, sage/paulo santo's your body and area, or do a salt water cleanse in a lake or beach. The water can be very cleansing and healing. As a native from Hawaii the beach would be my go to cleanse preference. (✿◠‿◠) 🌊

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✿ Pile 2 : Open Heartedness , Prioritize ✿

Wow pile 2 lemme give you a hug okay? 🫂 Seriously, you have been through some stuff. I'm picking up on heavy energy here. Your inner child is amazed at how unjaded you are. They have seen you go through some people who were absolute bummers. Did that experience make you salty in any way? Heck no. They see you as a strong warriror who always chooses to not let unhappy chapters make you into a monster. They appreciate that so much. If you let negative experiences turn you sour, then the jerks and bully's win. So you move on with an open and hopeful heart, if only because you hate losing to jerks. Pile 2 you are winners. 🏆💗 You kill people with kindness and don't let their bad energies mix in with your pure and thoughtful heart. Your inner child is so sweet, they tell me that they give you hugs and love that you are the person they have become. I'm hearing "We are misunderstood and not everyone will get us, but our hearts are always pure".

✿ Advice From Your Inner Child ✿

Prioritize: Archangel Metatron : "Focus on your highest priorities. I will help you get orginized and motivated". Pile 2, your inner child is amazed at how many ideas that you get from time to time. However, they want you to manifest your thoughts from the 4D and materialize them into the 3D. Proper planning and prioritzing will help you with that. Take out a sheet of paper, and start writing your goals, plans, anything that has to do with your future. They want to make sure that you at least have them written, so you can start "scripting" your dream life. If you don't know what scripting is, it's a form of manifestation that helps you with your ideal dream life. Try it out, it's free and does wonders. Your inner child wants to help you realize your power. I'm hearing your quite popular in the dream realm, you may have astral traveled before or have been looking into it. This is your sign to continue on that path. Congratulations pile 2! This is so far the longest pile that I've done so far. So many messages! ʕ￫ᴥ￩ʔ ♡

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✿ Pile 3 : Honouring Ideas , Clear Intentions ✿

Interesting indeed. This pile I'm hearing unlike pile 2, you are the type to go for your goals. Your Inner child is quite impressed with you! They love how many silly, serious, & whack a doodle ideas you come up with! Lmao, I'm hearing a specific scenario for every event in your life. What an amazing brain you have. This is my pile who always has their head stuck in a book, ears listening to a podcast, and an head full of wonder and ideas. When an idea comes to you, you honor it by doing your best to bringing it into being. You are a master manifestor. Ideas to you, are like children, and you proudly nuture them, knowing they'll grow and develop, and eventually make their way out into the world without ever really acknowledging how much time/money/love you shelled out for them. This is my piles who may be entrepreneurs. Seriously keep that ish up, you are definitely trend setters! Your inner child loves how smart and buisness minded you are. They are definitely proud of the person that you are and have become. (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ♡

✿ Advice From Your Inner Child ✿

Crystal Clear Intentions: Archangel Michael : "Be clear about what you desire, and focus on in with unwavering faith". Pile 3, I'm hearing that any idea you have will be brought into fruition. How lucky! The gods are definitely in your favor when in comes to Manifesting. Please do not stop dreaming, all your dreams will surely come true with the right intentions. 🌌☁️✨️

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#baby witch #intuition #intuitive #pac #pick a card #tarot #tarotreading #tarotblr #tarot blog #free tarot #witchblr #inner child #inner child reading #shadowwork #moooncatstarot

[stevie-petey]

episode two: the weirdo on maple street

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp. “Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your review sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

summary: you use your limited psych knowledge to help a bald girl, you force jonathan to accept $20 and he's later an ass to you, steve doesn't know what a "missing" poster looks like, and it's really hard being a single mother to now four kids.

rating: general, but there's cursing as usual and steve being... well, steve - but hes still season 1 steve so give him some time

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, use of y/n, and there's more angst in this chapter with some fighting between reader and jonathan, so fair warning.

words: 10.1k (the longest thing ive ever written)

before you swing in: i'm almost done with chapter 4, so here's a sweet treat as i cram for exams lmao. some housekeeping: should i do a tag list ? i got a few questions about it, so pls let me know soldiers. also, i feel the need to clarify that i adore nancy but for plot reasons - reader and her don't really get along (but they def will later, trust me). season 1 nancy and steve are just so silly. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this loooong chapter. the rest definitely aren't as lengthy due to plot, but wow. i amazed myself. carry on !

-

Your jeans drip onto the Wheeler’s carpet, and you’ve definitely left a wet imprint on the couch cushion beneath you. The other boys are dripping as well, but all their attention is on the girl in front of them. 

After finding her in the woods, your motherly instincts kicked in, immediately removing your coat to place on her and gently ushering her to your bike and demanding that the boys go back to Mike’s. Your mom is home, so your house was out of the question, and it’s always been easy sneaking into the Wheeler’s, anyways. 

Once you all had made it back, you guided the girl onto the couch and sat next to her. You refuse to let her go too far from you, having no idea where she came from or why, but regardless you know she’s too young for any of it to have been good. 

Which leads you to now: wearily watching the boys stare at the girl as if she’s some science experiment, asking her a million questions a second.

Bless them and their little prepubescent minds. 

Lucas reaches out to touch her, and before you can nudge him away, Mike slaps at his hand. “Stop it! You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!” Lucas retaliates, which honestly? That’s fair. The girl hasn’t said anything yet, even after your multiple attempts to get her to do so. No matter how much you try, you can’t coax a response out of her. 

“I bet she’s deaf.” Your brother offers, suddenly clapping his hands to scare her, making both you and her flinch. “Not deaf…”

You roll your eyes at him. “Guys, she’s probably just really scared right now. We should give her some space,” you look at both Lucas and Dustin, “and time,” now you look at Mike. The three boys deflate a bit. 

“She’s probably cold,” Mike says after a moment of silence, and you nod at his suggestion. Seeing your agreement, he walks over to a basket of clothes and takes out some pajamas.

While Mike is away, thunder rumbles and the girl jumps, unconsciously getting closer to you. You wrap an arm around her reassuringly, making note that she doesn’t like loud noises. If anything, she’s showing more and more signs of trauma response, which makes you uneasy. You remember Hopper saying something about Will being in danger. What are the odds that this little girl was running from something as well?

“Here, these are clean.” Mike’s return breaks you from your thoughts, and you take the clothes from him and stand up. You thank him, then offer your hand to the girl. She looks at you uncertainly. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “Let’s go get you dressed in some warm clothes. I’m right here, sweetheart.” 

“She’s super nice.” Dustin says, trying to help.

Lucas adds, “Yeah, you can trust her.” 

“She’s alright.” Is all Mike offers.

You give them all an appreciative smile, even if Mike is being a bit of an ass, and then you feel a small, cold hand wrap around yours. The girl stands up, looking around shyly, and you lead her to the bathroom. When you go to close the door, she stops you.

Mike has followed, seeing the interaction. “You don’t want it closed?”

Her voice is quiet, solemn. “No,”

You and Mike look at each other, and he voices what you’re thinking. “So you can speak.”

He looks excited about this new information, and you shove his head out of the doorway. She needs to get dressed. “We’ll leave the door cracked, okay?”

She nods at you, and you stand guard outside the door. It’s not that you don’t trust the boys, but Mike has only known her for ten minutes and he’s already been nicer to her than you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. The only other person he’s this soft spoken to is Will, so you’re protective of her. 

You can hear the boys discussing tonight’s events from the living area while the girl gets dressed. They sound scared, and a part of you can’t blame them. While you’re fairly certain that the girl isn’t dangerous, it’s still a creepy situation. Once again, Hopper’s new theory surrounding Will floats through your mind. This all can’t be some coincidence. 

Sighing, you approach the boys and catch a bit of the conversation. 

“Our houses become Alcatraz.” You hear Lucas saying, and you figure they’ve finally pieced together that there’s no way any of you can tell anyone about the girl. None of you were supposed to be out tonight. As much as you know you should tell an adult, you also need to be able to help Jonathan with finding Will. If your mom locks the house down, you’re doomed. 

“Lucas is right,” the boys turn to you. “We can’t go to anyone about this just yet, but I also don’t think it’s a good idea to hide her. She’s been through something terrible, it’s obvious. Tonight, I say she gets some rest. We can figure out what to do later.” 

Mike nods, for once agreeing wholeheartedly with you. “She’ll sleep here tonight-”

Dustin’s eyes widen in horror, “You’re letting a girl-”

You clamp your hand over his mouth, motioning for Mike to continue.

“Thanks, Y/N. In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst,”

They think she’s from Pennhurst? You think, but don’t verbalize it.

“Or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear! And tomorrow night, we go back out, and this time we find Will.”

You gotta hand it to Mike Wheeler, he may be a pain in the ass, but he’s a smart pain in the ass. The plan is pretty sound, so long as he follows through with it. However, it’s him following through with it that leaves you a bit unsure. 

He looks at you for approval, and you hesitantly nod. “It’s a pretty good plan, Wheeler. So long as you stick to it.” 

Lucas and Dustin nod along with you, there’s an unspoken sense of doubt that Mike will actually be able to turn the girl over to his mom. Then she walks out, dressed now in some of Nancy’s old clothes. She draws into herself when you all turn to her, shy. You walk over and offer your hand again, which she accepts. 

“Mike, go find her something to sleep on. Dustin, we gotta go soon before mom notices we’re gone.”

Both boys comply, with Mike searching for a sleeping bag and Dustin packing up his stuff. You crouch down next to the girl, so that you’re face to face, and give her a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you. My name is Y/N, I hope Mike over there doesn’t give you a hard time tonight.” 

Mike flips you off, having heard you. “If he’s annoying,” you lean in close to her now, whispering in her ear. “You have my permission to pinch him.”

The girl giggles, finally relaxing a bit, and you warm with pride. She’ll be okay, she seems like a very resilient girl and you’ll oddly miss her. 

The two other boys are waiting for you upstairs. You all wish Mrs. Wheeler a good night and head out. Thankfully the rain has now stopped, so the bike ride home isn’t bad. You stop at Lucas’ turn to make sure he gets home safely before finally arriving at your place. As Dustin begins pedaling into your driveway, you don’t follow. 

“I’m going to go see Jonathan, he didn’t answer my calls earlier and I just…”

Dustin waves at you, not even bothering to turn around. “Yeah yeah, go see your boyfriend. If mom asks, you’re asleep.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Are you seriously going to argue with me after I offered to cover for you?”

Your brother gives you a pointed look, and you know he’s right. “Touche.” 

Dustin goes to leave, but you quickly grab at his jacket. “Before I forget, swear to me that you’ll keep me updated if anything weird happens, okay?”

He nods at you, knowing better than to argue, and gives you a mock salute as he heads inside. 

The living room light is on when you arrive at the Byers home, despite the late hour, but you aren’t surprised. You knock on the door and wait. When no one comes, you knock again, a bit louder this time. After another few moments, the door swings open. 

Jonathan has a finger over his lips in a shushing manner, motioning to Joyce who is passed out on the couch. You nod, letting him know you understand. The two of you go to his room and when he closes the door, you finally get a good look at him. He looks worse than he did earlier, the bags under his eyes have somehow gotten darker. His hair is a mess, his eyes bloodshot. 

“You’re soaked.” Jonathan says. 

“Yeah,” he doesn’t want to talk about it yet, so you play along. “Got caught in the rain. Are some of my spare clothes still in your bottom drawer?”

He nods at you, going over and grabbing a t-shirt and pajama pants for you. You accept them gratefully and excuse yourself to the bathroom to change. Your bones are cold, the rain seemingly having penetrated the layers of your skin. In the mirror you see that your own eyes are bloodshot; you don’t look much better than Jonathan, really.

When you return Jonathan is sitting on his bed, so you join him. It’s silent between you, all you can hear is his breathing. You stare straight ahead, so does he, and you wait. You’ve only seen Jonathan like this a handful of times, where the stress and anxiety becomes too much for him. He shuts down, draws into himself, and all you can do is wait for him to return to you; he always does. 

“Mom got a call tonight.” Jonathan’s voice is hoarse, and he looks frail. You wonder if he ever did end up making the spaghetti you prepared for him.

“Who was it?”

He swallows heavily, taking a moment to respond. “She said it was Will.”

“Will?” You look at him now, searching for any signs on his face, his voice lacks emotion. By the way he stares blankly ahead, as if he’s not really present with you right now, you know that it hadn’t been Will on the other end. 

“She started freaking out, going ballistic,” his voice cracks a bit, so you take a chance and reach for his hand. He lets you take it, giving you a squeeze, before continuing. “She was screaming, begging whoever it was to give Will back.” 

Jonathan pauses again. You don’t say anything, because no words will help. He’s never been the type for comforting words, anyways. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “It wasn’t him. Lightning struck and our phone got charred. It wasn’t Will.”

Now it’s your turn to squeeze Jonathan’s hand. He doesn’t deserve any of this. None of the Byers do. Out of the entire town, they’re the family who deserves the most that life can give. Will, too good. Jonathan, too selfless. Joyce, too loving. They’re the best damn people you know. 

“I tried calming her down, but she was hysterical. She’s only asleep right now because she worked herself up too much and passed out. I’m worried she-'' Jonathan shakes his head, as if ashamed by his own words. “I’m worried she’s going crazy, Y/N.”

He’s quiet again, but you can tell he’s about to break. His knee is now bouncing up and down and his breathing has become slightly ragged. Everything from today has been building up, it was only a matter of time before he snapped. You’re also worried about Joyce, a part of you skeptical to believe her, but the little girl you found tonight in the rain? Something was definitely weird about Will’s disappearance, but you’re hesitant to tell Jonathan just yet. For all you know, she could’ve simply been a girl who got lost and will be returned to her family tomorrow. 

You don’t want to worry Jonathan any more than you need to.

“I should’ve been there for him. I shouldn’t have taken that shift.” He gasps out, and like a dam the tears begin to fall. You’re quick to pull him into a hug and he crumbles into you. His body shakes with violent sobs and he clutches at you as if afraid you’ll leave.

“You can’t blame yourself.” You whisper, stroking a hand through his hair. He cries even harder, the force of it almost enough to knock you over, so you situate yourself so that you’re fully on the bed, laying against his pillows, with Jonathan crying into your chest beside you. 

“He’s g-gone.”

“We’ll find him, I promise.” Your own tears threaten to come out, but you force them down. You have to be here for him, he needs you. The only other time Jonathan has so openly cried was when Lonnie left years ago. He’s been holding everything in since then, all those years of looking after his family, taking care of his brother, getting harassed by assholes like Tommy Hagan. 

Neither of you say anything else, and you know that Jonathan needs to let it all out. You soothe him as best as you can, running a hand through his hair, stroking his back, reassuring him over and over again that none of this is his fault until your own voice becomes hoarse. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but sometime during the night Jonathan finally falls asleep, and you follow shortly after him. 

— 

Sunlight streams through Jonathan’s spare bed sheet that he’s pinned over his window, serving as a makeshift curtain, waking you up. You stretch, careful not to wake the boy beside you, and crawl out of the bed. You’re antsy, already knowing that today will be another long day. After grabbing some clothes from your designated drawer and getting dressed, you head into the kitchen and start making a quick breakfast. Just as you’re finishing up, Jonathan comes out of his room, dressed and ready for the day.

Neither of you say anything about the night prior, instead silently working around each other in the kitchen with years of practiced ease. He hands you the salt shaker right when you need it, you grab the pieces of toast that he popped into the toaster, the two of you never once get in each other’s way. You get deja vu, remembering all the times you’ve slept over with Dustin, you and Jonathan making the boys breakfast while they slept in. 

The only indication that last night really happened is a forehead kiss from Jonathan, his lips soft against your head. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the touchy one, so it’s always a nice surprise when he initiates the touch, and his forehead kisses were a welcome rarity. 

When the plates have been made, Joyce gets up from the couch and stumbles over to the table. You quickly help her sit down, and for the first time since Will’s disappearance you’re able to really look at her. She looks like Jonathan, only worse. The bags under her eyes are darker, her hair is more matted, and you believe she’s still wearing the same shirt you saw her in the night that Will went missing. 

“All right, mom. Breakfast is ready.” Jonathan tries to place her plate on the table, but Joyce stops him, worried about the poster of Will. 

Jonathan gives you a look and you run over to the table, grabbing the poster so that he can set the plate down. 

Joyce gives you a tired smile, “Thank you, Y/N, but I can’t eat.”

“I just need you to eat, mom.” 

“Jonathan’s right, Mrs. Byers. You need to eat, we gotta keep your strength up.” You feel like you’re talking to a child, but in a way, you suppose you are. 

The woman lights a cigarette instead, and faintly you wonder how many she’s had within the last 48 hours; you’ll need to wash your clothes when you get home. She begins to ask Jonathan to go to Xerox to make as many copies of Will’s poster as possible. You sit down in front of her, silently eating, knowing there’s no place for you in this conversation. 

It’s not that the Byers are ashamed that they have little money, but you know it’s rude to listen in. They make do with what they have, and Jonathan has never felt embarrassed with you knowing it. 

“I don’t want you to go alone,” Joyce says, causing you to speak up. 

“I’ll go with him and help hang them up, it’s no problem.” 

Jonathan turns to you. “You have that chem test, remember? I’m not letting you miss that.” 

“Shit…” you bury your face into your hands. You completely forgot about that after finding the little girl last night and dealing with Jonathan. You’ve heard about how impossible the chem exams were, and science has never been your best subject. That was Dustin’s thing, your thing was more humanities. 

“You’re the smartest person I know, you’ll ace the exam,” Jonathan reassures you before turning to his mom. “And I’ll handle the posters, it’s okay.” 

Joyce has been lost in thought during your conversation with her son, only beginning to speak again when she’s asked how many copies will be efficient. Once she starts speaking again, it’s almost like she’s physically unable to stop. She begins to ramble, finally exposing the crumbling woman that you’ve only heard about, now understanding Jonathan’s fears for her. 

“Mom-”

“If we… ten cents-”

“Mom!” Jonathan raises his voice a bit, now grabbing at his mother’s hand. “You can’t get like this, okay?”

The look on Joyce’s face kills you. She looks so lost, ashamed of her behavior, and you cast your head down; this is a private matter. Joyce profusely apologizes to him and all Jonathan can do is gently reassure her that it’s okay. All of this is okay. 

Their tender moment is interrupted by knocking on the front door, revealing Hopper on the other side. His presence makes you uneasy, so you stay in the kitchen and begin to clean up with Jonathan while Joyce attacks him with questions. 

“A little bit of trust here, alright? We’ve been searching all night.” You hear the cop say. Your hand clenches the sponge, rubbing a bit harder at the plate you’re cleaning. If they’ve been searching all night, why are they here now?

“Went all the way to Cartersville.” Ever since Will disappeared, you’ve been building a wall of hope within you that he’ll be found safe and sound. However, with every passing day, with every new situation that occurs, you can feel a piece of the wall collapse. You can feel it now; the search party went all the way to Cartersville.

“And?” Joyce asks. 

“Nothing.” The cry that Joyce lets out causes you to drop the plate you’ve been cleaning, shattering on the floor. You curse, immediately bending down to pick up the pieces. Luckily it didn’t shatter into a million bits, but you still feel horrible for breaking one of their dishes. 

Jonathan bends down as well to help, and the commotion catches Hopper’s attention. He sees you scrambling to clean up the mess and sighs with annoyance. “Does she live here or something?” 

You and Jonathan look at each other, a slight smile on your faces, and only respond to Hopper with a synchronized shrug. You basically do live at the Byers’ at this point, you have been for years now. It was the same for Jonathan: if you weren’t at his house, he was at yours. 

Joyce wipes some of her tears away. “Y/N is family, she’s here to help.” 

Hopper ignores this, instead bringing up the phone call from the night before. Joyce leads him over to the phone, and you join them once you’ve collected the remaining pieces of broken glass. When you see the phone, you can’t help but gasp. Jonathan’s words from last night are accurate, the phone is charred. 

“Storm barbecued this pretty good.” Hopper says.

Joyce waves her arms out, disbelieving. “The storm? You’re saying that that’s not… weird?”

“No, it’s weird.” Hopper begins, but you cut him off. 

“It’s really weird.”

He glares at you. You mumble a quick sorry and back away a bit while Jonathan asks if the call can be traced. Hopper focuses back on the situation at hand, informing him that it isn’t possible and then questions if Joyce even heard Will in the first place. The question makes you cringe, knowing it’ll only make Joyce more agitated and hurt.

“Flo said you just heard some breathing.” 

It’s the way he phrases the question, the way he emphasizes the word “just”, that bothers you. This woman has just lost her kid, what kind of mother wouldn’t know her own child’s breathing?

“Even if it was ‘just’ some breathing, I’d know it was my brother. Will is her son, she’d know better than anyone.” You find yourself saying. The words weren’t meant to leave your mouth, but the appreciative look Joyce casts your way outweighs the fear from Hopper’s glare. 

“It was him. It was Will, and he was scared. Then something-”

“It was probably just a prank call,” Hopper tries to reason with her, causing you to roll your eyes at him. You respect the guy, you do, but could he at least attempt to listen to Joyce?

You excuse yourself before you say anything else, heading back into the kitchen to collect the two posters you and Jonathan made. While the others talk, you grab his things and pack his bag for him. You know he’ll probably skip school today to get the copies done in time, maybe keep an eye on his mom, so you make a mental note to inform him later that you’ll help with putting the fliers up the second you’re done with the exam. He needs someone there for him. 

When you’ve grabbed the last of Jonathan’s things, Lonnie’s name is mentioned. You freeze, standing right outside the hall from them, only a wall between you. If Lonnie is somehow involved in this, you’ll kill him yourself. He was always cruel to Will, even when you were around to witness it. You hate him more than anything in this damn world. 

“It’s been long enough, I’m having him checked out.” Hopper declares, storming out of the house. 

You count to three in your head, and the second you get to three, Jonathan is following after Hopper. You knew he would, hating his father the most out of everyone who has had the displeasure of meeting him. You follow behind him, heading outside to talk to the Chief. 

“Hey, Hopper. Let me go.” 

Hopper takes a drag from his cigarette, facing the two of you. “I’m sorry?”

“To Lonnie’s,” Jonathan says, looking at you for backup.

You do your best to try. “If Will’s there, that means he probably ran away. Cops will scare the poor boy, he’ll think he’s in trouble.”

“And he’ll hide. He’s good at hiding.” Jonathan finishes for you. 

Hopper stares at you both, inhaling more smoke from his cigarette and blowing it in your direction with a curious look in his eyes. “You two are sickening to be near, you know that?”

You and Jonathan share an annoyed look. A kid is missing, and you still have to clarify that you aren’t together? “It’s not like that,” Jonathan says.

“Sure, you know cops are good at detecting lies,” Hopper approaches him now, grabbing his shoulders. For a brief second you’re afraid he’ll hurt him. “And we’re also good at finding, okay? Stay here with your mom. She needs you.” 

Hopper punches at Jonathan’s shoulder before facing you. “And you,” you brace for whatever he’s about to say, knowing you probably aren’t his favorite person at the moment. He points at Jonathan, “He needs you.”

His words hang in the air several minutes after he’s gone. You glance at Jonathan, but he doesn’t meet your eye and instead he goes back inside. You sigh, following after him because it’s what you do. Hopper’s right, he needs you. 

Jonathan’s in the living room, speaking softly to his mom when you enter. You don’t disturb them but rather snatch Jonathan’s keys from the counter and wait for him by the door. Like Joyce said, Xerox opens in about thirty minutes and you have a chem exam to take. If you leave now, you’ll be able to make the copies with him and be back in time before school.

The ride to Xerox is tense, you know Jonathan is upset that he’s been sidelined by Hopper. You also know that he’s torn between wanting to help his mom and staying out of his house as much as possible. If it weren’t for your god damn chem test you’d offer to skip and hide out at your place, but you can’t. Jonathan wouldn’t let you risk your future for him (even though you would, in a heartbeat, a million times over). 

The man at Xerox gives Jonathan a look of pity, clearly recognizing Will’s picture on the poster. It’s your favorite photo of him, smiling with all his teeth and happy as can be. From what you’ve heard, the whole town has been conducting search parties for him. Jonathan ignores the look and asks for the 200 copies to be made. 

It’s just you and him in the store as you wait for the prints to be done. The guy said it’d be about a ten minute wait so you wander around the store. Jonathan clearly is in a no talking mood, so you occupy yourself with whatever you find. You wish you’d brought your backpack to Jonathan’s last night so you could at least study a bit while waiting, but you didn’t. It’d be a miracle if you pass this exam. 

Jonathan wanders around as well, so you give a quick look around and find the employee. He’s standing over the printer when you approach. “I’d like to pay for the copies, please.”

“You can pay after they’re done-”

“No, I can’t let him see,” you point over to Jonathan, who is now looking at some stationary. “Please, just let me pay now so he can yell at me later.” 

The guy gives you a shrug, clearly not getting paid enough to care. “Okay, it’ll be $20. Just leave the money on the counter over there, the prints should be done soon.” 

You nod and do as you’re told, leaving the $20 bill on the counter while Jonathan isn’t looking. He can kill you later, right now you want to make up for not being able to help with hanging them up. There’s literally hundreds to get through, he can’t do that all alone. 

When the posters are done and Jonathan collects them, you wish the worker a good day and then wrap your arms around him and use all your strength to drag your friend into the car. He doesn't fight back at first, too confused by your actions, and you’re almost out the door before he sees the man pocket the money and wave at you. The dots connect in his head and Jonathan begins to fight against you. 

“Y/N, let me pay-”

“Nope. Not happening!”

“We both know I’m stronger-”

“Debatable, honestly, seeing as how we’re almost to your car.”

“Let go!” He tugs harshly as his arm, which you’ve got a secure hold on, causing you to stumble a bit. 

You plant your feet more firmly against the ground and use all your weight to pull the boy forward. You’re a few feet away from the car, just one more solid pull should do the trick. “Stop fighting this, Byers. I’ve already paid-”

“Which you shouldn’t have!”

“Keep fighting and drop all the posters, I dare you.”

Jonathan looks down at the posters in his spare hand, realizing that you’re right. If he doesn’t give in soon, they’ll topple over. He lets out an agitated groan, throwing his head back, and then marches over to the car to unlock it and fling himself into the driver’s seat. “Just get in.” 

You do a small victory dance and hop in the car.

“I hate you.” 

“You love me.” 

He hesitates only for a moment. “God, I hate that I do.” 

You smile, buckling your seatbelt. Jonathan pulls out of the parking lot and begins the drive to school. He’s less tense this time, at least. The small little wrestling match between the two of you seemingly did some good, then. 

When you pull up to school, you once again apologize to Jonathan for being unable to help. He waves you off, understanding. 

“It’s okay, I promise. I can’t have you failing out of high school because of me.”

You roll your eyes. “One test won’t make me become a high school dropout, Jonathan.”

He ruffles your hair, which you slap him for. “You can join me after, okay? Good luck, bug.” 

“Fine, but I’m taking some posters with me so I can hang up on my way to my locker.” 

“Deal.”

You run to your locker, flinging it open and letting out a sigh of relief when you spot your chem cards. Honestly, you really should’ve prepared better for your little sleepover at the Byers. You glance at the watch on your wrist, noting that you have roughly fifteen minutes to memorize all the elements in the periodic table as well as some chemistry definitions. 

Just peachy. 

You tie your hair up so you can focus better and grab the note cards. If you review the cards as you walk to class, you can save at least three minutes of studying time. You tuck the few remaining posters of Will under your arm and begin to head to your class, getting absorbed in all the elements and words. As you’re skimming a card about protein being K, you run into Nancy and Barb, who also seem to have the same idea as you.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Nancy greets you, Barb waving to you as well. 

They’re being nice, so you try to make conversation. “Studying for Kaminsky’s test?”

They nod at you and Nancy sighs, “Yeah, his exams are the worst.”

You laugh a bit, for once on the same page as her. “I know. I spent last night at Jonathan’s, I completely forgot about the test until this morning. I’m screwed.”

Barb raises her eyebrows at you while Nancy suddenly looks sad. “Oh, I’m sorry about Will. I know you and him are close.” 

“Yeah, it must be hard taking care of Jonathan right now.” Barb voices. 

You give them both an awkward smile. “Thanks, I guess? It’s just, there’s still hope, so…” 

The three of you stand there as your voice trails off. It’s painfully awkward. While you’ve known Nancy since you were 12, and at some point you even called her a close friend of yours, the second you entered high school she became distant. You never blamed her for it, people simply grow up and grow apart. Now you only ever interact with her if it concerns the boys. 

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp.

“Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your cheat sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

His friends laugh, but Steve has a bit of heart to look guilty, so you count that as something. His shame doesn’t last long though and the goofy and sweet boy who made sure you were okay after almost hitting you with his car is gone. 

Steve plays off the situation as if it were nothing. “Let me make it up to you, Henderson. I know you’re probably stressed out of your mind dealing with boyfriend troubles because of Bill-”

“His name is Will,” you grit out, remembering now why you dislike Steve so much. Everything was about impressing his friends, and while you can sympathize with him, it doesn’t give him an excuse to be an asshole. 

“Right, Will. Anyways, I was just about to inform Nance over here that my dad has left town on a conference and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause, ya know, she doesn’t trust him.” 

“Good call,” Tommy says, and you glare at him. 

Steve carries on. “So, are you guys in?”

“In for what?” Nancy asks. 

“No parents, a big house?” Carol says, as if Nancy is a giant idiot.

You feel bad for her being treated so poorly by her boyfriend’s friends, so you lean in and whisper, “A party, Nancy.” Then you look at Steve. “And no, I’ll pass.” 

Steve pouts. “Can’t leave loverboy alone for a couple hours?”

You scoff, shoving the poster against his chest, using more force than probably necessary, but the satisfying grunt he lets out pleases you. “If I didn’t know you I’d say you sound jealous. Unfortunately, I do know you, and that’s exactly why I’m not interested.”

“Meow,” says Carol as she and Tommy laugh. 

You ignore her and push past the group to get to class. You’ve wasted enough time, you have to study. Steve lets you, hurt by your words, but tries to play it off, instead focusing his attention on Jonathan up ahead hanging up some posters. You both see him at the same time and as you start to approach him, you hear Steve and his group mock him. 

“God, that’s depressing.” Steve says, and you’ve never wanted to hit a man more than you do right now. 

You glance at Nancy, trying to convey your disappointment in her. She’s a nice girl, she shouldn’t be with an idiot like Harrington. Who the hell makes fun of a guy with a missing brother? Nancy doesn’t meet your eye, which pleases you. She should feel guilty. 

As you near Jonathan, Nancy calls after you to wait up. You listen, mostly because you’re surprised she even followed, and together you walk up to him. “Hey, bee. I thought you’d be long gone by now.” 

Jonathan looks up at your voice, surprised when he sees Nancy next to you. He gives you a look that you conclude is a what is she doing here? look and you can only shrug as if to say I have no clue how I ended up in this situation. 

Nancy doesn’t see this exchange. “Hey,”

“Hey,” Jonathan responds, still confused. 

Nancy looks at you uncertainly, but you refuse to leave. Screw your exam, if she even considers voicing her boyfriend’s opinions to Jonathan then you’ll personally see that she fails alongside you. “I just… I wanted to say, you know… I’m sorry, about everything.” 

Oh, she’s being nice. You’re still unimpressed, but Jonathan motions to you to stop staring her down, so you reluctantly listen. 

“Everyone’s thinking about you.”

You all turn towards Steve and his group, who are clearly listening in, and you snort at her words. “Right, obviously.” 

“Y/N.” Jonathan warns. 

“Sorry.” 

“It sucks.” Nancy continues, and you have to give her some credit. You’re being a blatant bitch, but she’s still trying. You feel a bit bad now, which honestly makes you dislike her a bit more. Damn morals. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s a smart kid.” 

The bell rings, ending Nancy’s little monologue. “I have to go, chemistry test. Y/N, want to walk together?” 

She really makes it impossible to be a bitch to her. “Sure, just give me a second.”

You lean close to Jonathan and lower your voice. “Good luck with your dad, bee.” 

“How did you know I’d go-”

“Because of course you would. Now go, give him hell for me, will ya?”

Jonathan nods, relieved you aren’t pushing the topic. You know that Lonnie is a sore topic for him, for the entire Byers family, really. You only knew Lonnie for a year or so before Joyce left him, but you’ll never forget his spiteful words and the bruises that Jonathan tried to hide from you. He needs to do this alone, father and son. 

You see Nancy watching, and just to spite her you kiss Jonathan’s cheek, relishing in the fact that she looks away, and you wish him luck once again before following her to class. 

The test isn’t as bad as you’d feared, and the rest of the day goes by with relative ease. You don’t see much of Steve and his group and you’re thankful for that. Nancy also keeps her distance, no longer attempting to be all buddy buddy with you. A part of you feels bad about that, because honestly the thought of someone thinking you hate them makes you feel physically ill, but as long as Nancy is with someone like Steve, there’s not much you can do about that. 

After school you stop by all of Jonathan’s classes and collect the work he’s missed over the last few days; he has enough to worry about, so you figured you could help do some assignments for him. It’s nothing unusual, truth to be told. There was a time you were out for two weeks straight due to the flu one year and Jonathan did every one of your assignments, so it’s about time you returned the favor. 

Once you have what you need, you hang up the remaining flyers in your bag and begin your journey to work. You’ve used up all of your sick days helping the Byers, and while Mrs. Waters has insisted on letting you have more time off, you figured the distraction would be good for you. Jonathan will want some space after confronting his dad, and as much as you hated Lonnie, something told you he had nothing to do with Will. 

Just when your shift is almost done, your coworker, this young kid named Alex who you’re honestly surprised can legally work, informs you that your mom is on the phone and wants to speak with you. You stack the remaining books in your hands and thank him, walking over to pick up the call.

“Hey, mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, sweetie! I was just calling to tell ya that Dusty is at the Wheeler’s tonight for dinner, so my plan for ribs won’t work without him. I was wondering if darling Johnny could feed you tonight? I know the two of you have that little sneaky food game.” 

Your posture, once slumped over and uninterested, now straightens out. Why the hell is Dustin having dinner at the Wheeler’s? They never do that. “Uh, sure mom that won’t be an issue.”

Your mom lets out a sigh of relief. “Bless that Jonathan! I’ve always liked him…”

Your mom may be the biggest Jonathan supporter you’ve ever met. “Yeah, he’s your favorite. I know,” you shift a bit to catch Alex’s attention, mouthing to him that you need to leave work early. “Hey, did Dustin by chance say how long he’ll be at the Wheeler’s? I can swing by and pick him up after my shift.” 

“Oh, I think he’s staying the night there. He mentioned something about Mike not finishing his part of their little science project?”

They’re calling the little girl a science project now? Boys are so typical. “Oh, I see. Well, I gotta get back to work, mom. I’ll be home late tonight.”

Your mom wishes you goodbye and warns you not to be out too late. You hum, already trying to figure out the quickest route to the Wheeler’s house. You can’t say you’re surprised that Mike didn’t follow the plan, but you also can’t say you were prepared for this either. 

Alex comes back with your boss and you quickly make up a lie about not feeling well. Mrs. Waters gives you a pitying look and tells you to go. You’re incredibly grateful for her, she’s like a grandmother to you and has always been so kind. 

You quickly bike to Mike’s house, going over a grand speech in your head for the boys. Logistically speaking, you’re not sure if they can even harbor the little girl in his basement. Would it be kidnapping? Could kids even kidnap other kids? You aren’t sure and you definitely aren’t willing to find out. 

You arrive at the house just as Nancy and Barb are pulling out of the driveway, presumably to Steve’s grand house party. They wave at you awkwardly and you don’t have it in you to wave back. You park your bike next to their doorstep and knock on the door. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Mrs. Wheeler asks after opening the door. 

“Oh, I was just wondering if I could hang out with the boys tonight? Jonathan’s busy and I promised Dustin I’d help with their campaign.”

Mrs. Wheeler cocks her head at you. “But I thought there was a special assembly at the school for Will? Nancy and Barb just left for it.” 

You feel your blood boil a bit. There was no assembly for Will at your school, and it was really damn low of Nancy to use his disappearance as a cover story for her stupid party. She’s known Will since he was practically a baby. You have no idea how someone could be so unaffected by a missing child, let alone one who has been at your house every damn weekend for years now. 

“Oh, that!” You force yourself to remain calm; there isn’t time to snitch on Nancy, Mrs. Wheeler would only have more questions for you. “Yeah, I’m, uh, skipping it. Jonathan doesn’t want to go, so after he’s back from his errands I’m heading over to his place to, you know, comfort him?” 

The woman stares at you for a second, trying to determine if there are any lies to your words. You’ve never been the best liar, but being the oldest Henderson child has unfortunately prepared you for being quick on your feet when needed. 

“Well, come on then. They boys just went downstairs, and if you can please remind them to bring the plate of food back up here I’d really appreciate it.”

You thank Mrs. Wheeler and let yourself in. Her words have all but solidified your suspicions: Mike kept the girl. 

When you descend the basement steps, it’s almost comical how the kids scramble to hide the girl like little cockroaches. They run around and Dustin screams something about covering her before the poor girl is being manhandled into a sheet as Mike screams at Lucas and Dustin to calm down. 

“Guys! It’s just me! Jesus!” You shout, shoving past Mike to rush over to the girl and free her from the sheets. She looks more frightened than usual, but at least she’s alive. 

“God, why am I always the one you push?”

You shush Mike, smoothing back the girl’s hair and offering her a reassuring smile. “Remember me, sweetheart?”

The girl nods and softly says, “Y/N.”

“Very good. I’m going to scream at my brother real quick, so why don’t you cover your ears for me so you don’t get too frightened?” 

“Wait, what-”

The minute her ears are covered, you turn to Dustin and begin screaming. “Are you brain dead and not understand the words ‘tell me if anything weird happens’ or do you simply lack the appropriate empathy needed for a concerned sister?”

Dustin ducks his head in shame. “Y/N, look-”

“No! I’m all for helping you guys with your adventures and whatever, but Will went missing and then she appears and Mike,” you turn to him and he hides behind a frightened Lucas. “You said you’d stick to your plan. Now tell me, did you?”

Mike shakes his head, his eyes wide. Dustin looks no better as he cowers behind the others. Lucas simply shrugs, knowing that this would happen. You never, ever, yell at the boys; the few times you have in the past, all hell had broken loose. 

“Y/N-”

“Zip it, Henderson. I’m so pissed off at you right now and if you want to make it to thirteen I suggest you keep quiet.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you guys catch me up on what you’ve so sweetly kept hidden from me.” It’s worded as a question, but the boys know better than to deny you. 

You sit on the ground so that you’re next to the girl and then motion for the three boys in front of you to start speaking. They look at Mike, giving him a nudge, and he hesitantly steps forward to begin speaking. “Her name is El.”

The girl, El, looks up at you and smiles. You return the smile and knock your shoulder against hers in a playful manner. “Nice to meet you, can I ask what El is short for?”

“Eleven,” she says, and you want to question the name further but the look on Mike’s face stops you. Now is not the time, you guess. 

“El, she’s… different.” Mike continues, looking around nervously. He’s acting as if someone could break in any second and snipe you guys, and a part of you doesn’t doubt it can happen. “She has these powers, like, mind control powers.”

You snort, unable to stop yourself. El looks at you, looking unoffended, seemingly expecting this reaction. However, Mike groans at you. “Y/N, this is serious. She-she knows about Will.”

At this, your smile fades and you feel an overwhelming sense of hope take over you. You find your arms wrapping around El before you can control yourself and you give her a tight hug. She stiffens in your arms and you immediately pull away. “I’m sorry, I just… sorry.”

She laughs a bit, softly saying that it’s okay. 

“Do you really know Will? Where he is?” You ask, almost too scared to say the words out loud. If she’s telling the truth… you shake your head in an attempt to dispel any false hope. You don’t know this girl, she could be lying. 

Before El can say anything else, Mike speaks for her. “She does, but there’s bad men out there who want to hurt her. I think they’re after Will, too.” 

You freeze. “Bad men?”

“Yes, this is why we didn’t want to tell you!”

“I wanted to tell her,” Lucas says, which causes Mike to glare at him.

You wave your arms at the two boys, breaking up their fight. “Mike, what do you mean by bad men? Honey,” you look at El, “did someone hurt you? Are you in danger? Should I call the police?”

“No!” All three boys shout at once. 

You look at them, at the genuine fear in their eyes, and sigh, “Okay, if you can give me a good reason not to call the cops, I won’t.”

“Did you not hear the part about El having powers?” Dustin asks. 

“Gee, Dustin. You’re right! It’s like her having powers is totally believable and reassuring to the situation at hand!”

“I can show you,” El speaks up. 

You all face her now. “You can?” 

She nods at you, getting up and grabbing your backpack that you threw on the ground when you walked in. She rustles through it while you and the boys look at one another. After a few seconds, El grabs one of your comic books and places it on the table. She looks at you and tilts her head, indicating for you to sit down next to her; you do as you’re told.

El straightens out your comic and then closes her eyes, going completely still. The air around you shifts and you can practically feel the static electricity encasing you; the hair on your arms stand up. The pages of the comic begin to flick up, fluttering as if someone is thumbing through them in rapid succession. You watch as the Spidey panels flash before your eyes, the pages flying faster and faster until it becomes almost frightening to be near. Then, once it gets to its last page, the comic flies up into the air and hovers for a few seconds, right in front of your face. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, your eyes wide. 

Just as quickly as it began, the comic drops back onto the table. You look up at El and see that her nose is now bleeding, which rips you back to reality. The chair scrapes against the ground as you get up to help her, dabbing at the blood with a tissue that had been laying on the table. 

“Do you believe us now?” Mike asks, a smug look on his face. 

You gently wipe away the remaining blood from El’s face, looking her in the eye and directing your words to her. “I’m listening, sweetheart. What can you do to help us find Will?” 

El smiles, pleased to have earned your trust, and you get the feeling that this little girl is the most powerful thing in all of Hawkins, maybe even the world. At her request, Mike places his DnD board on the table and arranges the pieces for El to use. She sits down and closes her eyes once more.

Lucas gives you a doubtful look. “What’s the weirdo doing?”

You flick his head, not enjoying the name calling. Honestly, you thought you raised these boys better than that. 

El seems to accomplish whatever she was doing and picks up the wizard piece, murmuring, “Will.” 

You feel your heart stop. Will always insisted on being the wizard whenever they played the game. He was Will the Wise, forever and always. El couldn’t have simply guessed that, and you know it’s her-

“Superpowers,” Dustin finishes your thought for you. The two of you exchange a glance and you notice the slight glee in his eyes. Under different circumstances, you’d also find this all pretty cool. 

Mike sits next to El and begins to ask some questions about where she last saw Will. She gives him a look that you can’t quite decipher before swiping her arm across the table and spilling the pieces onto the floor. She then flips the board over, having it now face upside down, and places Will’s piece back down. 

You knit your brows together, trying to follow along. El’s movements are methodical and carefully planned, being unable to find the right words due to her poor speech, and you try to piece together the information you’ve been given. 

“I don’t understand,” Mike says, being extra gentle with El. You’ve never seen him so soft spoken before and you’re grateful at least one of the boys doesn’t view her as some monster. Which reminds you that you need to have a conversation with Dustin about respecting women, but for now you’ll hold off.

“Hiding.” says El. 

He’s good at hiding, Jonathan’s words echo in your head. 

“Will is hiding?” 

El nods, now looking more nervous. You can tell that Mike is getting closer to information that she doesn’t want him near, which finally causes you to ask the question that’s been heavily on your mind. “From the bad men?”

Now El gives a slight shake of the head, and Mike presses on. “Then from who?”

Without saying anything, El places a second piece onto the board right in front of Will’s. It’s a piece you’re unfamiliar with, with two snake-like heads that loom over the small wizard piece. Whatever it is, you know it isn’t good judging the way Mike, Dustin, and Lucas look at each other in fear.

You turn to Dustin and whisper, “What’s that piece?”

Your brother puts his hands behind his head and sighs deeply, a new resigned look on his face. He looks as if he’s just aged thirty years, which you find a bit dramatic. “It’s the Demogorgon.”

“The Demo-what?” The name sounds familiar, but you can’t remember anything about it.

Mike looks at you and for once his voice holds no annoyance when he says, “There’s a lot we still have to catch you up on.”

– 

Your head is spinning as you bike to Jonathan’s with all the new information you’ve just received. Demogorgons, magical vortexes, kids with damn superpowers. It’s all a lot for you to take in, and while you fully believe that El is something entirely different from a normal little girl, how can you be sure that it’s connected to Will? While his disappearance still confuses you, it’s illogical to jump to supernatural conclusions. 

Dustin had begged you to let him spend the night at Mikes in order to keep talking to El, and you only agreed because you figured you’d be at Jonathan’s again tonight anyways. He’s been MIA all day and you’re worried as usual, but you made him and Mike swear to you that they’d stay put in the house. At least this way they’re in one place, so if they screw around they’ll be easier to find. 

When you arrive at the Byers home you notice that Jonathan’s car isn’t in the driveway, which only confuses you further. Where the hell is he? You gave him all day to deal with Lonnie and cool off, trusting that he wouldn’t do anything stupid for twelve hours, and yet… 

You fear he’s done something stupid. 

You don’t have time to think too much about Jonathan’s absence because a frantic Joyce runs out the door screaming. She runs straight past you and into her car, and the house begins to light up like a christmas tree. You can hear The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go, a song that Will once had on repeat for three weeks straight, and you can feel the same static electricity in the air that you felt when El used her powers in front of you. 

Joyce suddenly gets out of the car and spots you, pointing towards her house. “You see that too?”

You swallow. “Yeah,”

She nods, as if your confirmation is all she needs to determine her sanity, and then marches inside. You stand in the yard, motionless. You’re terrified, and after learning about El tonight, you don’t have it in you to discover any other supernatural beings in Hawkins at the moment. Sighing, you follow after the woman because Jonathan isn’t home and someone needs to talk her down from whatever panic attack the flashing lights have inevitably caused. 

“Mrs. Byers-” 

“Y/N, you can’t tell me there isn’t something,” Joyce waves her hands in front of her face, almost grasping at the air, “weird about all of this. That was Will’s song, the lights were flashing in Will’s room, something came out of Will’s wall-”

“Something came out of his wall?”

“Yes! I’m not… I promise I’m not crazy, okay? You saw it, please tell me you saw it.”

You bite your lip, now thinking about El. You swore to Mike you wouldn’t tell anyone about her, and honestly you’re not sure that you should tell Joyce about her right now. You’re still unsure if El is being honest with you, and you can’t just give the woman false hope for her son. It’d kill you if you were wrong about El. But seeing the lights, hearing the music, the thing in the wall… There’s something that she’s not telling you. 

“Mrs. Byers… I’m not quite sure what I saw, but we just had a bad storm and it could be faulty wiring.” 

Joyce slumps her shoulders, frustrated that you aren’t conspiring with her. You just… you can’t. Not yet. Not before you figure out what the hell El is doing in Hawkins. You refuse to worsen Joyce’s already chronic anxiety and paranoia; Jonathan would never forgive you if you fed into her delusions, but it kills you to lie to her. 

“Look, I do think that something is weird about this entire situation, “ Joyce’s face lights up, but you’re quick to add, “however, there’s no proof. You, I mean-Mrs. Byers, you’ve seen things in the past. You’re stressed, and anxious, and all the other synonyms.” 

The woman lets a few tears drop from her eyes, now embarrassed. “Maybe you’re right. I-I’m sorry, honey. I just-”

You grab her hand. “I know,”

Her smile is brittle, a ghost of the once beautiful smile she’d give you, and your heart breaks for her. 

After your conversation, Joyce excuses herself to her room. She looks even more exhausted than before, so you leave her alone and hole yourself up in Jonthan’s room. 

You glance at your watch and note the late hour; you’re starting to worry now. Jonathan didn’t mention anything besides Lonnie and the posters, so you don’t know what else he could be doing so late. He wouldn’t go searching for Will without you. 

You wake up to Jonathan returning an hour or so later, apparently having fallen asleep while waiting for him. 

“Y/N?” His voice is gruff and surprised. 

You groan and rub your eyes. “Turn the light off, bee.”

He doesn’t. “What are you doing here?”

The tone of his voice wakes you up a bit, making you sit up and look at him more clearly. His shoulders are tense, his eyes are hiding something, and his overall demeanor is hard to read. “I had something to tell you, but is everything okay?”

“You couldn't have waited until tomorrow? Y/N, this is my house, just… just get out.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re confused by his behavior, now starting to become a bit defensive and hurt by his dismissal. 

“You can’t just let yourself in whenever you please.” Jonathan puts his camera on his desk, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Jonathan, we literally have always let ourselves into each other’s houses whenever we please.” 

He rolls his eyes at you and rips off his jacket, throwing it at you. “Get out!”

You catch the jacket before it hits you in the face. “What the hell, Jonathan!” 

“Listen, I get that you think you’re a part of the family, but you’re not. You’ve been here for days now, it’s getting old.” 

His words cut through you and leave vicious wounds against your skin. He doesn’t mean that, he can’t mean that. You and him were family. He’s never, ever insinuated anything less. He wouldn’t dare. Your Jonathan would never act like this to you, and the only time he’s ever been this cruel to you was when he accidentally dropped Lonnie’s last beer in the fridge and was too embarrassed and ashamed to ask for help; he’d shown up with bruises later that night.

Then it hits you. He did something, something that makes him feel guilty; he keeps glancing at his camera. You soften your voice, “Bee, what did you do?”

He whips around, now yelling. “Nothing! Just get the hell out of my house! It’s getting pathetic!” 

You swallow back the angry tears that build in your throat. Fine. Whatever. Let him be a raging bitch after everything you’ve done for him these last few days. 

“Fine, I will.” Grabbing your backpack you snatch the assignments you were supposed to give Jonathan and slam them against his chest. “Here’s all your fucking assignments, by the way.” 

He seems to come back to himself, blinking away the anger and shame. “Bug…”

“You don’t get to call me that.” And with that, you don’t spare Jonathan another glance. 

– 

When you get home, the house is eerily quiet. Dustin is at Mike’s and your mom leaves you a note saying that she’s spending the night at your aunt’s. Great. Looks like it’s just you and Mews tonight then. 

After everything that’s happened tonight, you never found time to eat dinner, and your stomach is loudly growling. You drop your stuff in your room and then reheat some leftovers, feeling like a pathetic child. You know that Jonathan didn’t mean what he said, but the words had come too easily to him to have just been a way to dodge his guilt. There had been some truth to them. Maybe you were pathetic for always fretting over him.

Dinner is quiet tonight. 

You wait for the phone to ring, for Jonathan to call you and apologize, but the call never comes. 

You’ve never felt so alone before.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #the thought of steve just taking will's missing poster and then being like oh shit was so funny to me i had to add it #also sad ending #sorry #but also not

[chernabogs]

The Moon

Inc: Malleus, briefly Prefect Warnings: Some spoilers for the platinum jacket bday vignette. The laundry... LMAO WC: 2.5k Summary: 4 firsts that Malleus had under the watchful gaze of his oldest friend. First moments, first shop, first wash, first friend.

1—First Moments.

There is an envy of the moon that rots through his heart as a plague does the flesh. 

The moon was his friend for the longest time in his youth; people would pass like a breeze—tutors, courtiers, servants, —leaving him stagnant, alone. But the moon would always return. She’d look down at where he leaned out the window, his small hands grasping the stones to steady himself, and her silver light would bath over him like the gentle touch of a mother—at least, how he imagined that touch to be. He’d whittle away hours admiring her mottled surface, and she’d whittle away hours gazing back, until she would eventually vanish with the night as the inky black sky faded to a twilight blue. 

The envy existed because she always had the opportunity to come and go. Malleus was confined to a box for much of his life. Never once did he need to lift a finger, even if he desired to;

your highness is not meant to do that. Your highness is not meant to toil, and labour, and break the earth as we must. Hot sun should not kiss your fragile skin, sweat should not touch your brow. You must always remain above and away. Let us harvest for your needs; let us serve. 

No one ever worked for the moon. She controlled the tides, made the Valley livable, and in return was worshipped for her trials among those denizens. One does not tell the moon you are not meant to do that. You are not meant to toil, and labour, and wrestle the tides for our needs. That was preposterous to think. So, should he not, too, work alongside the rest to make the Valley a better place? Would that not make the most sense? 

For a while he resented it. He would turn to his side to face away from the window as night came, grasping his sheets with his hands and glaring into the darkness as though the moon would feel sad in his absence. That’s a silly thought. A floating rock in space cannot fathom the emotions burdened by fae and man alike. But in his childish mind—packed with tales of birds that talk and trees that walk—it was perfectly reasonable. Sometimes, it still is. 

The resentment only lasted a few weeks before guilt began to eat him. That’s a silly thought, too. To feel guilty over ignoring a rock. Yet the next night he did find himself leaning on that window ledge once more, looking up at her with wide eyes as her silver light brushed across his cheeks. I’m sorry, he had whispered, knowing she could not hear but imagining she did.

The sun may not see his skin, but the moon certainly did, and she kissed it goodnight every evening before he went to rest. Lilia once told him his mother was a star, but Malleus wagered she’s far more than that. A star cannot contain the love and power he learned her to have. 

No, looking up to the silver light above, he knew precisely what she had joined in those celestial skies. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

2—First Shop.

The opportunity for growth first came when he was invited to NRC. There is a first time for everything, and Malleus was quick to experience many in those early weeks of his initial year.

The first time shopping alone. Most experience this when they become adults, or they get a taste in their teenage years when their parent allows them to embark to a mall, or a place with companions. Malleus faced a trial by fire when he needed to purchase snacks for himself in his off time—he did have an appetite. 

The cart broke, and that’s precisely when he knew this had been a dire mistake. Actually, he knew that when Lilia told him he was unable to go into town with Malleus. The discount store was the best place to get food for cheap and so Lilia had guided him here, and now the wheel was bent in a strange way and when he pushed it, it squeaked, or it didn’t move at all, and god this was awful, this was not how he planned—

Until an employee came. A single glance and a kick to the wheel fixed all his errors and so the crown prince of Briar Valley, with a charming flush of embarrassment to his cheeks, shoved the cart through the automatic doors after a mumbled word of gratitude. He’d get better at thanking people later. Gifts, for example, would be granted quite freely. 

The second trial of shopping came in acquiring the items. Malleus was intelligent. Incredibly so, in fact. Many of his tutors had not been able to keep up with his leaps and strides in the academic field (if one ignores how he threw tantrums and caused a majority to quit in the first place). However, ill-equipped was he for the trials of price vs quality comparison, and so he found himself in a stand still at many points with two boxes in his hand, trying to rationalize which one had the better ingredients and was it really worth the additional 5 madol? 

The experience took a grand total of two hours. Lilia called once—only to make sure Malleus did not become lost between the store and the school. A quick call became a long ordeal when Malleus barraged the man with questions regarding if it’s worth investing in carbonated water or not. He settled for whatever was in the taps at NRC, and he paid cash for it all. Because Lilia did, at least, inform him that paying with jewels was probably not an acceptable currency in the discount grocery outlet. 

At the end of it all, when he was digging through the box of granola bars on his desk at a late hour, and the moons silver light was greeting him for the first time in an entirely new land, a sense of confidence in his ability to handle any trial ahead caused a smirk to curl on Malleus’ lips. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

3— First Wash. 

That is until he met the machine. 

He was a night owl. What he didn’t realize was that most teenage boys are night owls as well. He had not the faintest idea where the laundry room even was and deemed that 2 am in the kitchen was the best time to compensate for this. So enraptured in his scrubbing was he that he failed to hear the student until he heard an awkwardly spoken, “Um?” over his shoulder.

What a sight he must have been. Wide, green eyes glowing in the dark as he was hunched over the sink, a sock in one hand and a brush in the other. Perhaps his hair was disarrayed from the furious scrubbing to remove any dirt, perhaps his fangs were shown in his frustration of soap suds getting everywhere. Either way, the poor boy who had wandered into the kitchen for a midnight snack and encountered this was quite shocked. Malleus had straightened up, and a lingering silence had ensued until the boy had spoken once more in a frail, cracking voice.

“Housewarden? Why are you washing your clothes in the kitchen sink?” 

Why, indeed? Malleus had the choice to take the prideful route and say that he wanted to, and so he did. Spare himself the embarrassment. Or he could own up to reality and admit a slight bit of vulnerability to the student. He wanted to form camaraderie and friendship—so perhaps vulnerability was the right way to go. 

“I could not find the laundry room.” He had replied, a bit blunt in his words. The student stared at him for a moment longer before slowly blinking as the prince’s words registered to him. His mouth opened slightly, and he half turned to look out the kitchen door. 

“Oh, I just use magic.” The student had then pointed to the stairs where the dorms were. “But you can probably just have someone take your load next time.” 

Malleus knew his expression soured at the comment because the student’s face had dropped to worry. Let us harvest for your needs; let us serve.; this echoed in his mind as his hand had tightened around the sock. “No, I can do it myself.” 

The words were cold to the point of cutting. Silence, once more, before the student had cleared his throat again. “... I am overdue for a load myself. Do you want me to show you the room?” 

A simple question had been enough to ease any tension. Malleus’ expression had softened, and within twenty minutes, two boys were embarking in the dark with soapy laundry and baskets to scour the laundry room on their expansive campus. Malleus had looked to the moon as they passed and imagined her laughing at his plight. 

Many tales regale of brave knights who encounter ferocious beasts in their endeavours, with voices that sound of a thousand cries and mouths that spew a volley of ash upon their polished armor. The knights inevitably slay the beast and parade its head proudly for all the adoring villagers to see. 

Malleus’ beast had a body of stainless steel, and a mouth that chewed and swished clothing around with great fury. The first time he saw it, he had set his basket down and looked at the boy with an expression of; are you kidding me? Technology and the prince were not friends. Two phones burned within the first 48 hours of getting them had demonstrated that so far. But the boy exhibited a patience unseen as he had loaded his wash and walked the prince through the process of putting the laundry pod in, hitting the timer, and then hitting ‘start.’ 

The rumble of the wash had signified success. When Malleus repeated the steps with his own load and a second rumble had filled the wide, otherwise empty room, he felt quite akin to those knights slaying the beast. 

The two of them had sat in the benches of that laundry room together until the load was done and the boy could show him the dryer. They had never really spoken again after that encounter, but the memory of the boy's compassion (a rarity for NRC students) in aiding the prince was not lost on him. When the boy was suddenly hit with a streak of uncanny luck, and he had asked himself why, perhaps he had a lingering idea of why this was—but he would say nothing, nor would the prince.

Only the moon knew the answer to that question. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

4—First Friend. 

They had seemed utterly, completely, unequivocally normal when he first met them. Oh, he had heard about them—after all, one doesn’t just burst out of a coffin without the entire school knowing within the hour—but he had not met them, and when he finally did, he found himself to be quite underwhelmed. They were shorter than him, but just as quiet, and he had yet to know that those lingering awkward moments outside of Ramshackle would uproot his life in the most wondrous of ways. 

The moon knew. But she couldn’t say anything; she just kept smiling down with her silvery grin from the skies above.

He hadn’t meant to return to them, but in time he did, until eventually the student from Ramshackle ingrained themself in his routine in a way that baffled him completely. Sometimes he would look down at them on their walks and wonder to himself now, where did you appear from?, as though the night would whisper the answer in his ear and he’d go, ah yes, that makes perfect sense. 

The night is where they convalesce the most. In the beginning the student did not sleep often and Malleus, still ever the night owl, took advantage of this. He would abscond with them in the night (oh, he could imagine his Senate wailing how scandalous! in their flickering forms) and they would walk a familiar loop around campus until returning to the steps of Ramshackle once more.

Sometimes they talked the entire way. Other times they would simply move in silence, an unspoken understanding between them of two people in a routine they were both quite comfortable with. When an overblot had happened, the student would tell Malleus about the event, and he would nod in grave understanding—not knowing what they felt, since he never experienced it himself, but empathizing with them all the same.

It would also allow him to make a mental note to reach out to the affected party later. Just to check in. 

Winter break had been a time of upset for him because it had disrupted the routine he was used to. Back in the box, back in his room, with servants attending every need. The freedom he had become accustomed to being robbed from him made him feel like a mad dog in a cage and the absence of those now familiar night walks had him glaring at the sky. The moon was still there—so one member of their party was present—but the student was back at NRC, and it created a sort of them shaped void in his chest that made him restless. 

They didn’t reply to his holiday card. Maybe he had overstepped, or maybe they were like him and lost track of time on occasion. He liked to imagine it was the latter. He liked to try and find more things similar between them both beyond a love for the night and the moon. 

When he had returned and they had given him the VDC tickets, another sense of joy had sparked in his chest as he had held those tickets tight. A warmth flooding throughout his body, something he hadn’t quite felt before beyond when he looked at his family, and he wondered in that moment if this is what it felt like to be a part of something. He had always imagined having those experiences—being invited to parties, creating mischief in the night, sharing secrets and laughter under the stars. The student was granting these to him, despite both parties not knowing so yet.

The moon knew, though. She kept smiling down at them as they would whisper on their walks, hands close enough to brush but not touching each other because that felt too far just yet. She would observe the way Malleus would watch the student until they re-entered Ramshackle to ensure that they made it inside safe, and the faint smile on his lips as he walked away.

She knew, even when they did not. 

For now, however, Malleus was comfortable calling the student friend. They were someone who did not walk before him in guidance, or behind him in subservience. They walked comfortably by his side as an equal, and for that, they held more significance than he cared to admit. 

NRC had brought many firsts to Malleus’ life, and as each moment passed, he felt that envy of the moon fade away. For in the end, to be envious of his oldest friend was a pointless thing.

#malleus draconia #twst #twst fanfiction #malleus x reader #somewhat... more platonic but w those lil hinty hints yk #hehe his bday vignette rotating in my brain <3 this man #also wow look MORE dia... ;;

[snek-panini]

It's been a month since Binderary ended but I've still got books to share! This is @worse0mens's (hi!) wonderful Good Omens series, The Blossom Realm, which starts with Omens of Another Kind. This is very much a longtime favorite of mine, an AU with a really compelling combo of worldbuilding and characterization. This is a believable grand romance that's also a court drama and a fairy tale, and it's really long (the full series is about 220k words) so it will keep you reading for a long time. This is one of the fics I learned bookbinding for, and it was the first really long fic that I typeset (and redid once I learned more about typesetting). It's been a long road but it was so worth it.

More photos under the cut!

Couple of photos of the spines. The series doesn't divide easily, with one very long work, one medium-length one, and several shorter pieces. The main story is nearly 200k on its own, the longest single volume I've ever made (about 500 pages), and I was worried about it getting too unwieldy, so I put all the other works into their own volume of about 100 pages. They make a disparate set but I love them. The cover is done in skiver green faux leather from Hollander's; I've never worked with this brand before but I loved it, and one sheet was big enough to do both books. The titles are done in cricut brand gold foil htv. There were some issues with that, as I'd bought a multi-pack with a few different colors and only found out after applying the front cover graphics on both books that one, I didn't have enough to do the backs and spines; two, that the gold in that pack is a totally different color than the gold they sell on its own; and three, that no one in my area stocked it anymore and I had to order it from Europe. Here's what the back looks like:

It's the same graphic as the front but without the title in the center, and it's one of the fanciest backs I've ever done and it took forever to weed all those little cutouts. The graphic was free to use on rawpixel. The font I used on the spines and front is a basic Microsoft font called Harrington that worked incredibly well on the cricut, even at small sizes; a lot of basic fonts are too thin, especially fancy ones, so this was a delightful surprise.

Photo of the top, with ribbon bookmark and handmade double core endbands. The endbands didn't come out as well as I'd have liked; they're a little uneven and the color changes aren't that evenly spaced. Double core ones are harder than I expected and I need more practice. The endpapers are chocolate silk moire, and I chose them because there's a very important massive tree in the fic and I thought they looked like wood grain. I did a little experimenting with the shorter volume that's visible around the edges of the endpaper. I wanted gilded edges but the longer book had to be rounded, and I thought I'd try paint instead of foil since I don't know how to foil a curved edge. But I did my experiments on the smaller volume and I couldn't get good coverage, so the edge had to be trimmed off. The watered-down paint had leaked into the edge of the silk moire too far for me to trim, so it's still there. But it's kind of pretty, so I'm going to call it an aesthetic choice.

The title pages are the same, with free graphics from rawpixel. I got lucky and found a similar set of roses that I used for the chapter headers:

These had to be positioned by hand for each chapter so they'd fit around the text properly. It was a pain but they look so pretty. The final photo contains a story spoiler, so proceed with caution if you don't want that:

The scene break image in both volumes is this tiny snake. This was one of the first aesthetic choices I made for the books. A lot of the plot is centered around a prophecy about a monster snake that everyone thinks will destroy the kingdom, and of course in the manner of Good Omens fic it's a wildly inaccurate misinterpretation and not a threat at all. I wanted something like this because the snake is not only non-threatening but it's been here the entire time and there was never any reason to freak out about it. It was surprisingly difficult to find a snake image that was both simple enough to still be clear at this size and also didn't look dangerous or like a cartoon character. I looked at so many snakes before I found this one, it's ridiculous.

And that's it! I hope the author likes it (and remembers me since I asked to do this almost a year ago). There are three more binderary posts forthcoming, though I don't know how long it'll take me to get to them. It was a busy month.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #good omens #fic rec #everyone look at my books they are so pretty #and then go read the fic it's so good omg

[joels-darlin]

Nightmares

Pairings: post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!! (minors DNI), mentions of anxiety/mental health, mentions panic attack, smut, fingering, grinding, unprotected P in V (keep it wrapped!!), creampie, pet names, dirty talk, riding a cowboy, teasing.

Summary: After waking up from a nightmare Joel helps you find comfort in a way you never thought was possible, all thanks to stealing his favourite flannel.

Word count: 2047

Authors Note: My first time writing smut and of course I had to do my man Joel Miller. I also think this might be my longest one shot to date so yay to smashing goals. Hope you all enjoy! I definitely enjoyed writing it. Feedback is appreciated ♥

As always a huge thankyou to @ladybess-a03 for the help and support on this one, forever in your debt. Also, I finally did it woo!!! ♥

Also posted on AO3.

Every night was the same; broken sleep, pounding heart, waking up in a pool of your own sweat. The vivid memories of those you loved dying in front of you at the hands of raiders and infected. Bleeding profusely or torn apart limb by limb. Horrific images forever ingrained into the cells of your brain.

Gasping for air, you woke with a fright, bolting straight up into a sitting position, lungs burning, breathing deeply to force some oxygen into them. Beads of sweat trailed down your face leading to the uncomfortable burning sensation behind your eyes. A brief scan of the room told you that it was still dark outside, dead of the night, the only light source coming from the old street lamps of Jackson which painted a yellow hue across the walls of the bedroom.

“It’s okay, you're safe, here in Jackson, with Joel and Ellie” you thought to yourself, the words circling around your head over and over again, trying desperately to console your anxious and terrified form. You gripped the now sweat soaked sheets in any hope of grounding yourself, feeling the smooth of the material against calloused skin.

After a few minutes of composing yourself, breathing returning to normal, you turned to the right, your eyes landing on Joel. He was lying on his side, facing towards the wall, clutching a pillow. The sheets draped loosely around his naked torso; quite the sight, you had to admit. The sounds of soft snores that left his lips signalling that he was having a peaceful night's sleep for once.

There was no way of getting back to sleep after that, the dream was far too vivid to even consider closing your eyes again. Feeling defeated you stripped the sheets back, careful not to disturb your sleeping partner. Making the conscious decision to grab one of his flannels that hung over the bedpost, throwing it over your frame, which was only covered in a vest top, the scent of him wrapped around you like a comfort blanket burying your nose deep into the fabric.

It was dark when you stepped out of the bedroom, your eyes squinting with adjustment. Reaching out you followed the curve of the walls with your fingertips, finally grasping the edge of the banister, carefully retreating down the stairs one step at a time and into the living room. The couch being your final destination. ────────

“Darlin’ what are you doing down here?”

You flinched in panic at his voice, close to dropping the book you were buried in as a distraction. Closing the cover, making sure to mark the page, before placing it on the coffee table. Turning your body facing the doorway where he stood, you locked eyes with Joel briefly.

“Couldn’t sleep. I-I, erm…well…I had a nightmare. But I could ask you the same thing?” you said, hoping that your questioning would have him glaze over your admittance to another nightmare.

“Hold up, a nightmare? You should have woke me” he said. You shrugged.

“You looked peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you”.

“Oh sweetheart…”. He approached, taking the seat on the couch next to you. Feeling the warmth radiating off his body, you hopped into his lap, strong muscular arms wrapping around your form. You lay your head in the crook of his neck.

“Next time, please wake me. Don't care if I’m dead to the world or not, I panicked when I woke up to an empty bed” he spoke softly into your hair. “Now…you wanna tell me about it sweetheart?” he asked.

“Not tonight too vivid, but I don’t know if I will sleep at all if I recount it” you mumbled. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Maybe another time, hmm?” he asked, and you nodded in response. “I’m never getting this back, am I?” he chuckled, pulling at the hem of his, (no, your) shirt.

“Nope” you responded, emphasis on popping the ‘P’, leaning in for a chaste kiss. Joel captured your lips as you pulled away, kissing you deeply for a few moments.

“I like seeing you in my clothes though, it’s…hot” he whispered, brushing his nose against your chin, moving down to place soft kisses at the exposed skin of your neck, nibbling on it lightly. There was only one way this was going, you could feel the pool of desire starting to well in your lower stomach, evident that your thin sleep shorts were now flooded in hot, wet arousal.

“Joel…” you whined, trying to send him a clear message that you wanted, no, needed him. Besides, it’s not like you were likely to be able to sleep now…

“M’yeah, baby…I know…I know,” he mumbled between kisses. Detaching your lips for a brief second, you took control. Pushing off of his lap moving to straddle him, legs either side of his hips, skin making contact with the soft leather of the couch. Moving your arms around his neck, fingers threading into the hair at the nape of his neck, eliciting a soft moan from Joel.

“God damn, baby girl, you will be the death of me,” he spoke breathlessly. Foreheads touching, his deep brown orbs shone in the dark room with lust and desire, boring into yours. He leaned in virtually smashing his lips against your kissing you passionately.

Completely focused on his lips it took you by surprise when moved his hands up the back of your top, the feeling of the warm, calloused skin against yours causing the ripple effect of goosebumps across your body. He continued, hands now traversing around the front of your top cupping both your breasts, squeezing gently, causing you to moan into his mouth. Taking both your nipples rolling them through his thumb and forefinger, lips detaching and your back arching involuntarily at his touch. Jesus, this man.

Two could play that game. Grinding down on Joel’s lap, his hard bulge protruded through the thin pyjama pants that adorned his lower body.

“Fuck darlin’…” he moaned in response as you continued to grind against his aching length. The friction was so good that you were hurtling towards your own peak.

“You have two choices, cowboy, take me to bed or take me here” you whispered into his ear in a sultry tone, dragging your teeth over his earlobe gently. Joel thrust up in response, rolling his hips into yours multiple times.

“Won’t make it…upstairs…here…now” he stuttered. “Lift up for me” placing his large hands at your waist he guided your hips up so you were hovering over him. In one swift motion he lifted his own slightly, sliding his pyjamas off so they pooled at his ankles. Glancing down you drunk in his thick, hard cock which was glistening at the head with pre-cum. A wave of desire pooling in your stomach at the sheer sight of it.

“Now you are too overdressed for my liking darlin’. Let's get rid of these clothes…the shirt…that stays on though” he growled forcing your gaze up towards him. Taking a fistful of your shorts in each hand he pulled the fabric tearing at the seams as he ripped it from your frame, doing the same with the vest top until you were completely bare; just the flannel hanging from your shoulders.

“Joel…my-” your words were interrupted as he forced his lips against yours again, tongues tangling going to war in the battle for dominance. “Don’t care…will…get…more” he grumbled between rough kisses.

“Please…” you whined, body aching for his touch. It was only when he reached between your frantic bodies that you gasped, head thrown back in pleasure at the contact. His fingers swiping through your folds collecting the arousal that pooled at your entrance.

“So wet for me darlin’ god damn” he growled, dragging his fingers up to circle your clit. He was teasing at this point and it was painful wanting nothing more that his hard length inside you. You continued to moan loudly as his long, slender fingers toyed with the sensitive bud, every nerve in your body standing on end.

“Gotta make sure you are ready for me though” dropping his head into your neck biting and sucking on the skin there driving you wild, his tongue glancing over each mark as if to soothe. Removing his fingers from your clit, whimpering at the loss, traversing down. Lazily tracing two fingers at your entrance before sinking them inside you in one movement, making you moan loudly.

Joel knew what made you tick. The two of you spending countless hours between the sheets exploring the depths of each other bodies. So it was no surprise when he curled his fingers slightly, instantly grazing that soft and sensitive spot inside, knowing exactly it’s location every time. Starting to pump his fingers in and out at a slow pace, the sheer sensation from his thick fingers nearly sending you tumbling over the edge. Only the sounds of your moans and him working away at your hot, wet core filling the room.

“Need you…please” his thick fingers withdrawing from your entrance at your plea’s.

“Lift up darlin’” obeying the command and lifting your hips once more.

There was something enticing about watching him, taking his hard length into his fist and giving it a few pumps before aligning at your entrance. Teasing once again swiping the head through your wet folds and nudging the sensitive bundle of nerves, moans tumbling your lips. Taking matters into your own hands and not wanting to waste anymore time you sunk down on him, full to the hilt, both moaning in unison.

“So tight darlin’ made for me” Joel growled hands moving now to your hips, gently grabbing at the skin there.

Steadying yourself you start moving up and down bouncing on Joel’s thick, hard cock - starting out with a slow rhythm. Feeling the tip of his length hitting just the right spot of your cervix with every movement. Core burning with white hot desire, in this position you were definitely not going to last very long.

Joel dips his head, lips skating over the skin between the valley of your breasts, leaving a trail of wet kisses. You moan, loud enough that the neighbours definitely heard, as he takes a nipple into his hot, wet mouth. Tongue circling around the sensitive bud, it peaking in response.

The muscles in your thighs are burning. But the sheer desire of Joel splitting you open with his cock supersedes that and you continue picking up the pace slightly - hurtling fast towards your climax. Chanting his name like a prayer.

“m’not gonna last darlin’ so—fucking—good” Joel groans hands moving down from you hips to your ass, kneading the supple skin gently. Leaning forward to connect your lips together in a passionate but breathless kiss as you continued to ride him.

He could tell you were getting close, movements getting sloppier by the minute, walls fluttering around his length and he wasn’t far behind either. Taking one of his hands from your behind, traversing round to your front, fingers glancing lightly over your sensitive clit for a few strokes. Lips detaching from his in a instant as you screamed in pleasure.

“I’m gonna—” not getting the chance to finish the sentence before your climax hit quick and hard. Back arching, head thrown back, Joel’s name tumbling from your lips. Swearing you could see stars littering the insides of your eyelids.

In the same moment Joel’s strong arm wraps around your back as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours, length twitching inside your tight cunt as he painted your walls with hot, sticky cum. A throaty moan leaving his lips.

Your labored breaths were the only sounds in the room, both taking a moment to come down for your highs. Body aching, core in particular still fluttering with pleasure, still full to the hilt with him. Moving to lean into the crook of his neck

“That’s one way to get rid of the nightmares I guess” you smiled, whispering against the sweaty skin beneath your lips, pressing a soft kiss there. He chuckled, broad frame shaking beneath you “Anytime baby, anytime”.

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