#obviously I pointed it out but like My Guy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bower-quinn · 2 days ago

Text

Where you are is home

Steve x Reader - Fluff, friends to lovers, modern!au Steve is your best friend, but what if... purely hypothetically... you feel more?

The sun over Hawkins hadn’t set yet, but golden light was already creeping through the leaves of the old trees behind the trailer park. You were sitting on the hood of Steve’s BMW – the one he somehow still drove, even though you regularly laughed about how it was basically a moving joke by now.

“Do you think your car will die on its own someday, or do I have to take care of that?” “Disrespectful,” Steve said, chewing on a straw and giving you a mock-offended glare. “This is a classic.” “Classically rusty.” He gave you a playful punch on the arm, and you let out an exaggerated sound, just to grin right after. “You’re such a baby,” he mumbled, leaning back against the windshield and closing his eyes. The wind blew a strand of hair into his face, but he didn’t move it.

That was the thing about the two of you: you didn’t have to say anything. You could be outside somewhere, between trees and chirping crickets, and just… be. You’d been best friends for two years – ever since you’d slipped him chips under the bench during a boring school play. He hadn’t really left your side since. The rumors that you were his latest fling had faded quickly. Like a boring song no one hums anymore. Over time, your friendship had only grown deeper.

He’d taken you on late-night drives, helped you forget your idiot ex (“I almost punched him.” “Come on, Steve, you would've broken your hand!” “But with dignity!”), and you’d helped him write his college applications (“I’m not a college guy.” “You’re just lazy!” “Exactly my point!”) And every time the world felt like too much, one of you was always there. Always.

“Remember when you fell asleep in the kitchen ‘cause you tried to make spaghetti at 3am?” “That was a tactical power nap,” Steve mumbled. “I was waiting for the water to boil.” You laughed – rough and honest. Steve looked at you briefly – just for a moment – but something in his eyes lingered.

“What would I be without you,” he murmured. You felt a lump in your throat. “Probably dead. Or still a terrible cook. A terrible cook with awful taste in music.” “I have fantastic taste in music.” “Steve, your playlist is just Foreigner. Nothing else.” “Romantically speaking, that’s a stroke of genius.” “Romantically speaking, it sucks.”

More laughter. More closeness. And when his head leaned on your shoulder, there was no thunderclap. No explosion. Just a warm, quiet feeling: You loved him. Like a best friend. But also… more.

A few days later, you were sitting with Steve on the roof of his garage. An old wooden ladder, a picnic blanket, two cans of Coke, and a rusty Bluetooth speaker. Your little, crooked paradise.

“Is it sad that this is the highlight of my weekend?” he asked. “No,” you said. “I’m here too.” He grinned – that half-serious grin that hurt if you looked at it too long. “You know you’re irreplaceable, right?” “Obviously,” you replied. “Were you about to confess your undying love?” “God forbid.” A pillow hit your arm. “Robin would’ve declared her eternal love by now. She’s more romantic. And smarter!” “Hey! I successfully built an IKEA cabinet today.” “Steve… I was there. You put the same screw in the wrong place. Twice. Twice, Steve.” “Artistic interpretation!”

Laughter. Deep breaths. Silence.

“You know…,” he suddenly began, “sometimes I feel like I’m missing something. I haven’t dated anyone in over a year. I just want to hang out with you.” You looked at him. “Would you rather go back to dating Cynthia?” “The one who called Chewbacca ‘the roaring bear’? I don’t think so.” You laughed loudly – one of your favorite memories. You’d never forget Steve’s face.

“You need a girlfriend who knows the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars.” “Yeah,” he said softly, leaning closer. “I think I like this. With you. You get me. You know me.” You placed your hand on his. Nothing big. Just… exactly right. His eyes wandered to your face and stayed there.

“You’ve got something,” he whispered, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “Eyelash. Make a wish,” he murmured. “I did.” “What was it?” “If I tell you, it won’t come true.” His gaze flickered. “What if I wished for the same thing?”

There it was. A moment. One second. Two. Three. And it passed. Neither of you made the first move. But still, something had changed. The spark that had only lived inside you was suddenly outside, too. Every touch felt like lightning, and you could see it in his eyes – he felt it too.

Those big puppy eyes. So open. So honest. So vulnerable. And still, weeks passed. Weeks full of longing.

One night at his place. The world outside was quiet, but something inside both of you was boiling – something that had stayed silent too long. Steve looked at you – and in his eyes were the words he couldn’t hold in much longer. He’d never been good at hiding anything.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said. “What do you mean?” “This... almost. This constant almost. Almost kissing. Almost saying how much I want you.” He stepped closer. “I can’t sleep. I only think about you.”

Your heart was racing. “I think about you too,” you whispered.

Then he pulled you into him – not gently. Not carefully. But like someone who’s been in love forever. His mouth found yours, hot and urgent, his hands on your back, under your shirt, pulling, searching – like he had to make sure you were real.

“I want you,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Not just now. Every day.” Your fingers ran down his chest, your breath hot on his neck. His grip tightened. He looked at you, half speechless, half overwhelmed.

“You’re everything I want.” When his lips met yours again, there was no more doubt. Only desire – built up over weeks. Months of glances that had never dared to speak. Now, they were screaming. In every touch. Every move. Every trace of skin on skin.

You didn’t fall on each other. You fell into something that had always been there – and finally had the space to catch fire.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington stranger things

126 notes · View notes

alexispunkkk · 15 hours ago

Text

no mercy in seattle

- pairing: dark!tommy miller x fem!reader

- summary: on tommy’s rampage in seattle after the death of his brother, he needs a way to get his anger out. he uses you as his outlet, taking his emotions out in the best way he knows—sex.

- warnings: rough sex, cussing, unprotected piv, dark!tommy, dubcon, boot riding, boot humping, oral sex, spanking, face slapping, spitting, hair pulling, manhandling, creampie, mentions of murder and guns blah blah blah, joels sooo dead sorry

- word count: 5.1k

- weird mix between the game/show plots adjusted for this. anyway i wrote this in protest against the show writers because where tf is tommy!!! jesse says he’s in seattle with him but they’re not even gonna show me my man?? need him picking off the hoes one by one at the wlf with a sniper. soooo here u go here’s tommy’s deserved vengeful journey

based on this ask | on ao3 | masterlist

For Tommy, mornings don’t exist in Seattle. Not anymore. There’s no sunrise, no one to wake him up. Not Joel, obviously, not Ellie, not Dina, and not you.

Just sudden jerks out of sleep where his hand automatically reaches halfway to his gun, his breath caught in alarm. He’s endlessly alert and anxious, alone, every noise sounding suspiciously like footsteps and every little rustle in the woods like someone’s about to take a shot at him.

He sleeps in fragments: an hour there, and another thirty minutes on occasion–never in the same place twice. Temporary safehouses, abandoned rooftops and buildings. He misses having a real bed. Especially the part where he’d have someone next to him.

Everything is covered in moss, rain leaking through cracks and soaking into his jacket, pooling by his thick boots. He doesn’t care much, though.

He’s a smart guy. A good hunter. When he moves, it’s silent and calculated–each move is normally from a vantage point, though. Seattle is a fucking maze of concrete and glass and vines and rot that invade the city. And the damned Washington Liberation Front patrol it like they own it. They’re well-armed and well-fed, something Tommy can’t afford or handle all by himself out here.

So, he watches from above. Behind the scope of his gun, he watches. Never hesitating.

He takes them clean out, one by one. One shot, one body. Quick, clean, never caught by the others. Another shot.

It’s not for trophies, but simple revenge–he gets closer, mind searching aimlessly for the names reported by Dina on the day that his brother died.

The list burned into his soul like a brand on the hyde of Jackson’s cattle, giving him the motivation to keep cleaning the WLF off in hopes to find one girl in particular. He moves silently and quickly, gone before they can catch sight of the figure taking them out one by one.

But, every time he thinks he’s found a trail, it went cold. Every time he gets close enough, they slip away in time and it becomes harder–he feels like he’s being hunted in return. Being played. Has to ration his ammo so, so meticulously. Three bullets for his rifle, two for emergency. Every shot counted with Tommy.

The same goes for his food: little pieces of jerky that he ripped up and chewed while his eye remained in his scope. Ate in silence, slept with a shiv clutched in his hand and his rifle right next to him.

All the while, the ghost of his brother followed him. Not in body, but in the quiet of the city.

Tommy sees Joel in the corner of his vision, egging him on to find Abby and end it. He hears his grumbled laugh in the rustling leaves, his flannels in the cold air when it rains. Seattle is a rainy place. It worsens it.

Sure, it kept him motivated in his killings. But moreover, it kept him angry. Not just the fact that he’s gone, but how it happened. The mere sight of a golf club drives him off the wall nowadays, and he rages in silence.

When he does take a shot, it’s quiet, but it’s not exactly clean. He’s taking them out, destroying them. Knees, throats, headshots. Watched their blood boom and splatter across concrete from over a hundred yards away, but it still didn’t feel like enough. Not enough for the taking of Joel.

Not even close.

There are days his hands still shake, days he punches walls if he misses a shot, or if he catches the scent of something in the air that reminds him a little too much of his older brother. The guilt swallows him whole, bringing him into a mindless pit of rage and vindictiveness.

It’s not resentment that he has for the WLF–it’s genuine loathing.

So, when three familiar figures show up, he’s acting a bit different.

Ellie and Dina allowed you to tag along to Seattle with them, trusting you enough with your knowledge of weaponry and hunting. Thanks to Tommy for teaching you, of course.

The three of you have been doing surprisingly well, beginning your arrival with a stay downtown: searching synagogues and courthouses and banks before landing yourselves in a hotel. There were dead bodies–not many infected–but of soldiers and humans.

Tommy’s doing.

Naturally, there are instances that put your group in grave danger, but you make it out decently. An elementary school, news station, tunnels, a theater. Clickers and runners and more bodies, a horse that had once been Tommy’s as well, and lots of Ellie’s guitar playing.

On the third day, Dina isn’t feeling too hot. Finding Tommy would be the best decision right now, in equal importance to finding Abby. In a mix of luck and the opposite, your group clashes with him in the Seattle Waterfront Aquarium.

In a frenzy where Ellie had managed to successfully kill both Mel and Owen, leaving her with a panic attack due to the now-dead woman’s unknown pregnancy, he shows up behind her and prompts you all to leave. Always a pragmatic thinker.

The reckless first three days, thankfully, did leave you back in the hands of your Tommy. The same tanned, flirtatious man you once knew now ruined by the guilt of his brother’s passing and having to strip himself of sleep and life in order to kill civilians over and over in a ruthless rampage of revenge.

His eyes, once a soft brown, seem darker, flicking over you in silence. When Ellie and Dina were around, his mouth opened like he might say more, but he doesn’t. Couldn’t.

The air stretches thickly between the two of you as if waiting for something, but the energy is off. Your sweet, caring man now tortured with a lack of sleep and too much violence, even for him. That says a lot, considering his days as a combat veteran in the Gulf War and the strenuous times spent hunting infected ever since the outbreak.

He’s always been the strongest man you know, ever since the two of you met in Jackson a few years back. Goes on every patrol without a word of complaint, gets over serious injuries like they’re simply papercuts, can take out six clickers in a row without the blink of an eye or a breath harsher than the last.

Hell, he’s handled bloaters by himself before.

But something about him seems different–not only in the sense that he’s tired and sick of killing, but he’s truly hurting.

You know Joel’s death got to him. Badly. He and his brother were so close growing up, stuck together for years at the start of the outbreak. Tommy was there for him when Sarah passed, when he lost hearing in one ear from a missed shot to his own head. They hunted in Boston together, took the lives of so many. A strong bond.

So you have a basic understanding of his drive for revenge. You certainly didn’t know it could reach this extent, though.

The theater door clicks shut, the sound echoing longer than it should’ve when Ellie and Dina head out for a bit on a supply run. That was their excuse, at least–it was probably because they could feel the tension and the way Tommy was about to unravel.

For a long second, you just stand there and watch him from across the room.

It’s the first time the two of you are alone since he left, and as much as you missed him, you’re a little scared. You feel bad, obviously, but you’re terrified for him. He’s seemingly going insane right now, looking incredibly tired. A big gash on his hand from accidentally grabbing his knife too quickly, hair plastered to his neck, jacket soaked and rain-damaged.

His back is to you, crouched beside a bench while he unstraps his gear and sets his guns down for once.

“Tommy…” you take a breath, stepping closer and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He’s literally radiating fury in the form of heat, seething profusely with each breath.

He doesn’t answer yet, just stands. Slowly. Too slowly. It doesn’t feel like your Tommy.

He turns around, and it feels like it hits you in the chest this time. His face is hollowed out, wrenched with exhaustion. His eyes are bruised and sunken in, his jaw clenched so tightly that you can see the veins of muscles tick. Not just grief, like you would’ve expected out of a normally soft-spoken man.

It’s fury. Bare and red seething rage curled under his skin, eating him from the inside out.

“Can’t do this shit anymore,” he begins, voice rough and gravelly. He hasn’t spoken in a few days now, and he’s severely dehydrated. “I can’t—fuckin’ can’t.”

You step forward carefully, as if approaching a wild animal, unknowing if it’s docile or not.

“Tommy.”

Your fingers slide from his shoulder to his arm, working down gently until reaching his hand. It’s the same hand you always hold, the same soft and big fingers that have graced and worshipped every part of your body back in Jackson. Just now, hardened by a week in the wilderness without access to much clean water or resources other than his need for carnage.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. That look on his face. And I swear to God—” he cuts you off, swivelling around to grab the back of a chair and slam it into the ground. The wood splinters under his grip, two of the legs breaking off entirely as the piece of furniture hits the surface.

“Could fuckin’ kill every one of ‘em with my bare hands.” He resumes, turning back around after the crash of the chair. His chest heaves. “Still wouldn’t be enough.”

You’ve never seen him so angry. You didn’t know he had the capacity to be so angry. Back home, he’s all sweet and southern–a townsman, good with the animals and kids. Never yells. Jokes and flirts his way out of situations.

Now, his eyes are dark and bloodshot. Genuinely wildlike.

“Tommy,” you repeat, trying to calm him down. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in a while, so you want it to be nice–but his mind is racing. “C’mon, hon’. Calm down a bit. We can sit. Take a break.”

“No.” He scoffs, breath picking up quickly as his chest rises up and down. Deep, dense heaves that he can’t control.

“I’m losin’ my mind out here, baby,” he rasps, shaking his head and beginning to pace around the room, trying to keep from looking at you while his pants start to feel just a little bit tighter. “I’ve been out here alone, killin’ and hunting and shit. None of it’s fuckin’ changing anything.”

He steps forward now. Fast and desperate. He smells differently than usual, that usual clean cedar adjacent scent replaced by an unwashed musk and the acrid scent of gunpowder lingering on the fabric of his jacket. He’s a little gross and smells faintly of the mildew that comes alongside heavy rain, but he’s still your Tommy. Your poor, tortured, grieving, angry Tommy.

“You get it?” He asks, grabbing your face. Rough and needing as ever. “I’m gonna explode and I can’t—-I don’t know where to put it. Don’t know where the fuck to put it.”

You nod. No, you don’t really understand. But you’ll always do anything for him.

“I know,” you respond, voice hardly above that of a whisper.

Tommy only stares at you like he doesn’t fully believe you, like he needs you to prove it.

“Don’t need any talkin’,” his forehead presses hard against yours, breathing coming out in pants now with your face this close against his own–his breath isn’t the freshest, either. Jerky and days without brushing. He gets a pass, though.

His hands slip down to your hips, holding onto you for dear life. He’s always been one for constant consent, but now his eyes are asking all that he needs. After all, he did just say he doesn’t need you talking.

“Please. Tell me you want this. Just need something that ain’t anger right now.” He gasps when you nod and rut against his hips in return, taking that as a pathetic excuse for consent.

“Tell me I can have you right now before I lose it and don’t ask.”

You don’t speak. Just pull him in. And he completely breaks in that moment after one of the worst weeks of his life.

The threat of not asking gets your heart racing, showing how badly the trip has really treated him. The Tommy you know wouldn’t even be able to conjure up that thought, but he’s filled with such unfathomable rage and frustration that he physically needs a place to dump it. Luckily, your pussy is up for offer.

Your back hits the wall with a hard thud, the cracking plaster of the theater catching your shirt and tugging it up to expose your stomach as his body presses flush into yours. His breath is hot against your neck, raising the baby hairs on the back of it and eliciting a flush all the way up to your cheeks.

“Fuck,” he hisses, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “You don’t get what you’re fuckin’ doing to me right now. What you are to me.”

His hands are everywhere in seconds, rough and dirty palms ghosting up your sides and moving the shirt further. He fully untucks it from your belt, shamelessly forcing his hands up the fabric and snaking around to reach the familiar clasp of your bra.

He’s done it a million times, but somehow manages to get it off faster than any previous attempt. The fabric hits the ground while his mouth trails up to your ear, front teeth nibbling at the dangling bit of your sensitive earlobe.

There’s no foreplay like usual. No finesse. Just want and frustration.

Raw, filthy, desperate need.

He bites down, hard, right after moving his set of teeth to the base of your throat. Your gasp makes him almost snarl, grinning and breathing out the filthiest noises onto the skin he’d nearly ripped through with the force of his jaw.

“That’s it.” He mutters, voice meaner now. He tries again, sinking his teeth into the area above your collarbone, leaving a sticky patch of saliva where he’d also left his mark. “Like it when I’m mean. Fuckin’ slut getting off to me bein’ angry about my brother.”

He’s never talked to you like this before. Never even been close to something that resembles an attitude with you. But here you are, growing wetter at the sound of his mumbling and yelling after a rough week.

“Tommy–” your hand curls into the bottom hem of the damp flannel under his coat, fingers barely grazing the hot skin on his lower belly that lies under.

“Nuh-uh.” He growls, forcing your legs apart with his knee and shoving his thigh between yours. It locks you in place, his hands grinding you down on the thick, meaty stretch of thigh enough to make you whimper. “Think I’m gonna be soft on you? After what they did to Joel?”

His voice cracks again. His head dips with a grunt, forehead pressing hard into your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist to keep himself from falling apart. His chest is heaving, and he’s gripping onto you like you’re physically keeping him alive and intact right now.

“Could be out there killin’ someone. Finding the bitch who did it to my brother.” Tommy laughs, one hand moving from your waist to your jaw, tilting that pretty head back to look up at him.

He kisses you, absolutely devours you in one go–like you’re air after he’s been drowning. A lifeline. His tongue is hot, teeth clashing carelessly into yours. His hands yank at your clothes until the shirt you’re wearing joins your bra on the ground and your belt is half unbuckled. Doesn’t pay any mind to seams or buttons like usual.

“But I’m here with you, yeah? So you gotta make it good. Give me something, baby.”

He says between kisses, slightly guilting you into helping him out. It’s not that you don’t want to, but the delivery is so strangely unlike Tommy. Fuck it, though. You’re admittedly a slut for him–you take any chance to get on your knees.

Each movement is loud and chaotic as he pushes you to your knees, already grabbing your head of hair in one hand and twisting it up into a makeshift ponytail–or a grip, in his case.

The man’s belt is off in seconds, discarded to the ground before you can even acknowledge what’s going on. The waistband of his jeans drops, hitting the floor quietly. Before you know it, his hand is on your jaw, forcing your head back while his thumb finds your lips to part them.

His tip comes in contact with your lips, smearing the sticky residue of precum on the pink surface of them. It’s been too long since he’s felt them on him.

“Fuck, you’re takin’ it. C’mon now, open up.”

You obediently open, parting both of your lips to allow room for his puffy, sensitive head to slip in. At the simple feeling of your wet, warm mouth, he groans. Head falls back, hips stuttering pathetically. To come back to the feeling of a familiar, welcoming mouth on his cock after the worst week of his life was the best feeling.

Normally, Tommy would allow you to do the work on your own. Meaning you would hold his hips, go at your own pace, take as long as you’d like with the tip versus the shaft.

Tonight, though? Oh no. He’s not waiting. The hand gripping your hair tightens mercilessly, yanking your head toward his body, his thick cock sinking deep into your throat without warning.

“Mmphm—” you try your best to mumble to tell him to slow down, but he’s already thrusting. In, out. Using your mouth like some useless ten dollar pocket pussy. Saliva is dripping from the corners of your fucked-out mouth, groans escaping from the depths of your throat each time he hit it.

“Fuck, take it. Lemme use ya,’ honey.” Tommy groans, yanking your head again until he’s balls deep between your lips, your nose buried in his graying bush of pubic hair.

He’s too distracted by the overwhelming feeling of having this after a tortuous week, getting a break for his own pleasure. From his girl. His perfect girl who’d do anything for him.

So, he doesn’t quite pick up on the rustling beneath him.

While you’re taking his dick as far back into your throat as possible without gagging, you’re getting wet. As you do. He’s right–you are a slut for him. He’d already undone your belt, so it wasn’t that much work to get the rest off.

You managed to shimmy your pants off, leaving you in a pair of dangerously wet black panties. The pooling in them soon transferred onto leather while your aching pussy came in contact with Tommy’s boots. Grinding softly at first, just to relieve the tingling.

In a mere thirty seconds, it became more than gentle grinding. Oops. You’re losing focus on the cock in your mouth because of the feeling of his hard, dirty boot against your sensitive cunt. Even through the fabric, it was fucking orgasmic. You haven’t seen him in a whole week. You’re clearly needy, is that so bad?

“Baby,” Tommy whines petulantly when your usually skilled mouth starts to lose its practiced technique, giving your face a soft slap.

His eyes finally open, drifting down to take in the sight of him between your lips. One of his favorites. Instead, his eyes draw downward further to the desperate movement of your hips.

He raises an eyebrow and snorts, gripping your jaw again and fucking your face harder. Forceful, now. It does hurt a bit, the muscles of your jaw aching as much as your poor pussy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he begins, shaking his head scornfully. “What’chu doin,’ huh?”

You whine and feel a few pathetic tears slip when he uses your throat more.

Tommy doesn’t stop at the tears, but does manage to get his hips to still when you gag much harder this time. Sure, he’s angry right now, but he’s not evil. He knows your limits.

“M’kay. I know, I know. Fine.”

Pulling his cock out of your mouth slowly, he groans at the sight of the long string of saliva that connects the two. Sticky and stringy, stretching out a few inches before falling back and dribbling down your chin. His hand reaches out, rubbing a bit of it off and cleaning his thumb in his own mouth.

“Y’can’t take it? Gaggin’ already?”

He belittles you, bringing his hand back down to the right side of your face. He rubs it, gentle for a quick second, before drawing his palm back and meeting the cheek with a slap. Not the hardest, but enough to leave a mark. Just a little bit of his frustration escaping.

“M’sorry.” You begin, but Tommy’s shaking his head in disappointment.

“Usually better than this. Usually waitin’ your turn all good and proper, not gettin’ yourself off on my boot like that.”

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. You didn’t think he noticed the grinding on his shoe. Somehow.

Tommy tuts, shaking his head and rubbing the reddening patch on your cheek he’d just hit. It burns so good, a hot feeling rising in the stinging skin the same way it was rising in your stomach while you got yourself off on his foot like a slut.

“Can’t wait, huh? Just had to? That it?” He grumbles, thumb dipping down between your lips and parting them yet again. There’s still a drop of precum on the corner, some saliva dribbling down. He likes the look of you, all spent and messy like this.

“Guess so.” You answer quietly, mouth opening for him when he spreads the two lips.

Without saying anything else, Tommy takes a moment to collect some saliva in the warmth of his mouth. He swishes it around, lips puckering up before opening as he spits right into your now-opened jaw.

It catches you off guard. But you take it, feeling guilty you couldn’t even finish off the head earlier out of your own neediness distracting you. You remain on those knees like a good girl, staring up at him patiently with the gob of his saliva pooling in your mouth, his thumb on your chin.

He raises his eyebrows, just testing you like a fucking asshole right now. Waits too long, a good ten seconds, before nodding.

Obediently, you swallow it, eyes shutting as you savor the taste of his spit after too long.

“M’kay, up, baby.” Tommy nods in approval again, hands slipping under your armpits in order to hoist you up.

He’s always been able to manhandle you so easily, and you love it. The fact that he can pick you up, toss you around, make you his, without you being able to do anything about it. Yum. He’s so muscled and just large, especially his hands. Vascular, thick, hardened from work like all of him is.

You’re in his arms for a few seconds before he finds a little chest to sit down on, grunting while he sits back and sets you down on his lap. Your legs come around his hips, straddling him, your body resting on top of his.

“Might as well give ya’ what’chu want. Clearly not doin’ me good being apart from you.”

His hand comes down your back, feeling the soft plunge of the dimples on the small of it. He rubs your soft skin, slipping up under the shirt he’d previously pulled up, before his hand moves lower. It comes in contact with your ass, the little black panties not giving your skin much protection.

A loud slap sound snaps in the air, louder than the one to your face earlier. It draws a whimper out of you, making you bury your little head in his sweaty neck.

Tommy chortles, rubbing the spot and tapping it a few times.

“Fuckin’ mess. Whimperin’ and shit.”

Another slap, and then he eases up. Your whimpers make him feel bad about it–the sounds of actual pain. But, on the down low, they’re making his cock stand up more.

You’re shifting around, trying to get it to hit perfectly against your clit through the fabric. No luck, though, as his hands come to still your waist.

“Uh-uh. M’doing this tonight. Sit still for me.”

Tommy advises, raising his eyebrows while he gives your right hip another tap of reassurance. You can hardly sit still, even with his hands keeping you in place. Pathetic. Today, there’s no gentleness like the Tommy you know. Just fervor and need. Absolutely raw and heightened by his anger.

He lifts your thighs, turning you around, so you’re in his lap and facing forward. Your back is turned to him, hair tousled from his grip in it earlier, shirt pulled up and bra discarded. Oops.

“Gonna sit and take it for me. Lemme’ use you, hon’.”

His voice is rough in your ear, hand snaking around your waist to the front of your body. It works up your shirt more, moving upward to grip your breasts tightly. His other hand carelessly scoops beneath your thighs, pulling the fabric of your panties to the side.

No, he’s not taking them off. Not enough care for that. Just gonna do what he knows he needs.

Your pussy is exposed to the warm air of the abandoned theater, pressed down on the skin of his hair thighs. His hand spreads your legs, finding your folds and humming at the feeling of how wet you are.

“Goddamn. Soaked.” He snorts, tapping at your clit pitilessly. It’s tortuously teasing, making you gasp and writh. “All cause I’m angry, huh, baby? Likin’ that?”

You nod and lean your head back, not even listening. Already cock dumb, and he hasn’t put it in yet.

“Fuckin’ slut. C’mon, now. Up for me.” Tommy lifts you so he can slip his cock under you, pressing it between your slick folds. “Fuck.”

The two of you both moan, hips moving in practiced unison to rub together for utmost pleasure without penetration. You usually both withstand teasing for a bit, so you’re expecting more of the pussy job, but he’s not wasting time.

Tommy sinks in, sliding his thick shaft right into you without any issues. So soaked, so excited that you’re all opened up and pulsing for it.

“Ah, baby. Wet as shit tonight.”

His hands both find your hips, watching your ass jiggle each time he thrusts up between your legs. He’s pressing you down on him, minimizing the amount of space possible between your two sweaty bodies.

“Tommy.” You whine out, leaning your head back and trying to fall back into his body for comfort.

“Uh-uh. Lean forward, honey.” He growls, pushing you forward and tightening his grip on your hips to ensure you stay like that–it’s the deepest angle, after all.

In seconds, you’re fucked out. You have no clue what he’s saying, but you pick up on the occasional mumble while he slams in and out of you.

“Take it all. Every fuckin’ inch, baby.”

“M’not okay. Only thing holding me together is you.”

“Fuckin’ hell–look at you. Look.”

“Should’ve been me they took. Not Joel.”

“Gon’ kill that motherfucker.”

It's an almost sad range of pure neediness to grief for his brother, the rage shining through yet again while his brain unravels. His thrusts get more reckless, the grip on your hips bruising with each.

And soon, he was close.

You feel it in the way his hips stutter, the way his fingers dig in tighter as if you’d disappear.

“Fuck–” he rasps, voice torn. “Fuck, baby. Can’t…can’t hold it.”

The anger dissipates as need numbs his mind, forehead dropping to your shoulder. His sweat-slick skin rubs and burns against yours.

Tommy is panting entirely, shaking now. His rhythm falters, picks up harder and rougher, all until your breath catches in sync with his and your knees nearly give out.

“Too good. Oh.” He growls into your ear, speeding up impossibly and closing any distance left between your crotches until he’s bottomed out, hardly moving.

His teeth graze your neck, eliciting a moan from your throat. And that’s it.

Tommy snaps, a pained and guttural sound ripping from his own throat. He slams into you a final time, hips jerking in brutal strokes. You feel his entire body tense, but the hot pulse of his cum spilling inside you calms the two of you down.

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t want to. He can’t.

He can bury himself there for days and stay right where he is if he could. He could live in your sweet little spent pussy if it meant he wouldn’t have to go back out and find those fuckers who murdered his brother.

But no, Joel takes his mind again. This time, it’s less of rage, more of sadness. Guilt for going too rough out of anger.

His hands are fisted in your hair, jaw clenched like he’s trying to fight something. They both loosen up and he shakes his head, slowly pulling out and wrapping an arm around you.

“Shit.” He whispers, panting into your ear. “I’m sorry, baby. But fuck, I needed that.”

He presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, returning for a bit to the Tommy that you know.

“S’okay. I get it, you’re mad. Understandable.” You respond, turning in his lap and tucking your head in his neck. You’re straddling him now, kissing the soft skin wherever you can reach and stroking his hair.

He stays like that, rage finally quieted by your presence, his arms wrapped around you.

For now, at least.

@xodilfluvr @lowrisemiller @exqorcism @idkwhylou @thesecretdiaryofnoah @ssssc0m @ilovetoomanymen @darknight3904 @tokkiotears @vrstppnfcb @itwas-maroon16 @valentineispunk @pearlessance @moonchild-143 @randomstuffndstuff @millersdoll @d0uwannkn0w @grayandthyme @pedropascalshubby @mani-pedro @thaliagracesgf @userdarkholme @sweetmonsters @heyitsmirae @ohhoneypascal @joelscowgirl69 @mylittlebleedingheart

#tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller smut #tommy miller fic #tlou tommy #tommy miller #joel the last of us #the last of us #tlou fic #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams #dina woodward #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #gabriel luna #pedro pascal #fanfic #smut #manhandling

126 notes · View notes

melanchoire · 3 days ago

Note

Hey, hope you're doing alright. This is my first request so I hope it's okay. Asking for Yujin sneaking out of Ive's dorm late at night to see her girlfriend so they can hook up? Thanks. Also, can I be 🥛 anon?

hello milky anon

yujinnie doing everything possible to be able to see you because her busy schedule and your busy week makes it difficult for you two to meet :( obviously she won’t accept until you two have free time, but prefers to sneak out of the bedrooms so she can see you and finally fuck you like she's been longing for 🥰 obviously the members are aware of this and are unfazed when yujin “escapes” from the dorm in the middle of the night.

i can see yujin showing up at your apartment door in the middle of the night, holding a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers and the teddy bear with a dumber face than hers 😭 she would try to be flirtatious and act nonchalant but she can't help but smile stupidly because she's happy to see you again, then she have no choice but to put on the mean babyboy attitude for another day!

cooking alongside you instead of ordering food like you guys would on a random weekend, putting music in the background and making you dance with her from time to time because she is like a puppy in need of physical contact and can't stay even a few minutes without being on top of you 🥺 of course you give in because it's impossible to say no to those beautiful eyes that spend all their time begging you to please give them attention

and she is super sweet when fucking you :( on any given day she would fuck you unconscious, but today is a special occasion because she missed you and she doesn't plan on wasting the opportunity to get romantic and silly with you! kissing you slowly and sweetly, murmuring things like “you’re beautiful, you know?” while fingering you in the rhythm you like and you don’t even have to beg her to go at the pace you want because she is giving you what you want 😵 she swallows all the moans and whines that come out of your lips because she is touching you to the point that you kiss back because you can’t continue it because of how she is taking care of you, compensating you for all the time she was away and you were forced to take care of your needs on your own

#🥛 anon #yujin #yujin x fem reader #yujin x reader #yujin smut #ahn yujin #ahn yujin x fem reader #ahn yujin x reader #ahn yujin smut #ive #ive x fem reader #ive x reader #ive smut

115 notes · View notes

caughtafishie · 3 days ago

Text

blackbeard 2.0, "your feelings for stede fuckin bonnet", and izzy hands

hey first meta post so here we go :) ive been thinking on this a bit and i find it interesting how blackbeard 2.0 (01x10-02x02 ed) comes about, and how it falls on izzy more than anything else.

we see ed right after stede leaves, wearing stede's clothes, crying, and generally coping with his boyfriend leaving unexpectedly. i mean the way he was dealing with it was pretty par for the course imo. not only do we see him in this sad-but-mostly-calm state, we see him actually trying to personally connect with the rest of the crew during this time as well. singing with them, telling them he'd prefer them call him by his actual name, bringing up the idea of a talent show. we see that his initial reaction isn't really volatile at all. like i said, he honestly seemed relatively calm at first considering what had just happened to him. this is ed's reaction. and it doesn't seem all that unhealthy to me.

but then, we get to the scene. yknow, the "namby-pamby in a silk gown" scene. this is the first time we really see ed's attitude change from being just generally (rightfully) upset to actually angry. we see him visually change by the end of the scene, starting out pretty chipper cleaning stuff up, but then ending up completely building his walls back up by the time izzy is done berating him.

at this point, ed reverts to blackbeard 2.0. notably not a direct result of stede leaving.

which brings me to 02x01, "the vibe is poisoned because of your feelings for stede fuckin bonnet."

by this point ed is.. well obviously not doing well at all and is taking it out on the crew, but mainly izzy. this is where i find the conversation gets really muddled with which way people view the abuse and retaliation within ed and izzy's relationship. people tend to say that during this time ed was abusive toward izzy, izzy's abuser, but i think all blackbeard 2.0 shows us is that its the other way around, and always has been.

ed is a sensitive guy who got caught in a whirlwind of a career after a pretty treacherous childhood. yes he is a pirate, but first he is human. and that seems to be something that izzy is deadset on taking away from him.

at this point in the story, izzy doesn't view ed as human. he views ed as blackbeard. a myth. a legend. someone who is supposed to fit into his view of blackbeard. not a human. not a "namby-pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend." blackbeard is strong and manly and masculine. blackbeard can handle anything. blackbeard is an ideal. blackbeard doesn't really exist. at least, izzy's version of blackbeard.

so the second izzy saw that humanity, he did his best to strip him of it. that whole scene with izzy is basically telling ed hey, you're not allowed to cope with your feelings in your own way. you're not allowed to have feelings. or else.

imagine how this felt for ed to hear in such a vulnerable and emotional spot. you just have to suck it up and deal with it? "be a man?" from what we see that isn't how ed deals with things. he actually feels his feelings and lets them out in pretty healthy coping mechanisms (crying, writing music etc). being told that you just have to shove everything down and "put your mean face on or else" is more likely what set ed off to be blackbeard 2.0.

this is my biggest gripe with "your feelings for stede fuckin bonnet". if it was just his feelings for stede, we would've just seen blackbeard 2.0 pop out immediately after ed's return to the ship without him. he essentially would've just been this unstable ex girlfriend trope if that was his genuine first reaction to stede leaving. no, that is his reaction, ON TOP of stede leaving, to being told that he can't be upset about it and deal with it in his own way. so what does he do? he crashes out. understandably imo. because what other choice is he really given?

even as blackbeard 2.0, we see ed crying in private. a lot. like i said, he's quite sensitive and bottling things away probably isn't very much of an option for him. so he cries alone where he probably feels safest to. he's effectively trapped, a caged animal expected to perform a show for his "first mate", constantly. not only has he lost his safe space with stede, but the one other person he considers family is refusing to show compassion or even acknowedge his humanity. "edward better watch his fucking step."

so izzy saying that the ship is toxic due to ed's feelings? i'd argue blackbeard 2.0 and all the agony that came along with it falls completely on izzy. imagine if ed got to just go on with his own grieving process and find connections with people along the way. i don't see how blackbeard 2.0 would've come about had ed been able to just deal with things in his own way. thats why i have such a problem with this wording placing blame on ed. they were gonna have a talent show for christs sake. all up until izzy took it upon himself to dehumanize and break ed down till he was nothing. nothing but "blackbeard."

so i think it's real rich coming from izzy, "your feelings for stede fuckin bonnet," cuz i'd say it's his feelings about fuckin blackbeard that caused all this.

#the only thing toxic here is izzy's masculinity #opening a dialogue #our flag means death #ed teach #izzy critical #ofmd #ofmd meta

65 notes · View notes

jyndor2 · 1 day ago

Text

I don't think anyone is saying Cassian should ONLY dutifully follow orders to a T and never think for himself. Even the extended materials for Rogue One say that Draven trusted Cassian to do some independent thinking on the fly - but that is because Draven trusted that Cassian was committed to the cause and also that he would GET the work done even if the way he went about it was different than what HE imagined (cough).

This is the titular character of a prequel to the story where Cassian is clearly, obviously so beaten down and burnt out because of a longtime commitment to building a revolution during a cold war period, a commitment that has pushed him to kill at least one ally but surely more than that. I don't need Cassian to never question his leaders. He would - that is normal and understandable.

But to ONLY see Cassian going rogue after getting a late start to becoming a rebel spy is a real flaw. Because sorry Cassian IS burnt out in Rogue One, and Jyn and the others help renew his revolutionary optimism. And this is so powerful and such a fundamental part of revolutionary organizing, for your comrades to help pick your spirits up when you are beaten down by being right but wayyy too early.

On Eadu, Cassian disobeys DIRECT orders. He doesn't just think for himself and get to the orders in a roundabout way. He chooses not to assassinate Galen Erso because he knows that not only is it morally fucked lol (and that is even arguable but whatever) but also it is strategically dogshit to kill the guy who knows exactly where the flaw in the Death Star COULD be before the rebels have a chance to even see if he is credible or if it's a ratfuck.

Yes, I love the part in the novel where Cassian looks at Galen Erso and sees Jyn in his eyes but lbr there are several cool and valuable interpretations of why Cassian puts his rifle down (like anything else). But there's also like Motifs In Visual Media 101 where rain in particular is indicative of renewal, transformation, rebirth and change - and CLEARLY Cassian is experiencing a moment of radical transformation into someone who actually WILL disobey a direct order in that scene.

Well, that doesn't work as a transformative moment if a week ago he's yapping off to Draven and getting confined to quarters for GOING ROGUE LOL

This is why I have said that in order to make Andor!Cassian's story work best, the show probably should have aged him DOWN instead of up. Start Kassa at 6 (Kerri even younger obviously), have the teen!Kassa actor (I'm sorry I'm blanking on his name) to play Ferrix!Cassian in S1 and then do most of S2 as him at like 19 or 20. And frankly cut the most of the first arc, most of the second, have Cassian witness the Ghorman genocide and tie it in to his own experiences AS a genocide survivor, give us Kay and Cassian earlier, even if the budget requires less Kay still give us a bit of his presence earlier, etc. And then do the lead up to Rogue One PROPERLY - and as much as I love Kleya and Luthen, it isn't their show. It isn't. Kleya's backstory is very similar to what Cassian's could have been - and should have been - and they could have EASILY done something along those lines with Kassa in order to show his commitment to the cause EARLY.

This doesn't mean he can't bitch and moan about the bad shit, or disagree with his orders, or be a shithead teen dirtbag, etc. Who doesn't start off as an anarchist on their road to a more pragmatic and realistic framework for revolutionary politics?

(lmfao omg im sorry anarchists not yall catching strays my bad. you guys do great work.)

But... also that is supposed to be a big point of contention for Jyn and Cassian - leftist infighting simulator from the start lmfao.

Anyway I just wanted to correct some of the framing of the critique of Cassian's revolutionary arc. Because no just because people are critiquing the show does not mean we don't get the point Tony Gilroy is going for. It just means we disagree with the premise.

#rogue one #cassian andor #andor critical #andor spoilers #star wars andor #meta

42 notes · View notes

effietrinket1619 · 1 day ago

Note

lanternfam tiktok chaos

So, by this point, everyone knows Hal has an ex that he's on frankly horrible terms with. but-

the video opens with Kyle and Hal in a legit screaming match, Jess is clearly filming from around the corner, and-

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MARRIED HIM TWENTY-THREE TIMES?"

"WE WEREN'T LEGALLY MARRIED IN THOSE CORNERS, OKAY? IF I WANTED TO GET MARRIED ON MY HOME TURF, AND THEN HIS OLD STOMPING GROUNDS, AND THEN EVERYWHERE ELSE WE HAPPENED TO VISIT-"

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU DATED HIS DAUGHTER, KYLE."

"TWENTY-THREE TIMES, HAL!"

"AND TWICE TO JOHN, BUT YOU DON'T SEE ME BRINGING THAT ONE UP EVERY OTHER TUESDAY!"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU AND JOHN GOT MARRIED?"

Jess ducks behind the corner again. there is never an explanation for this. ever.

i am HOWLING over this

The visuals focused while the audio bled in slowly, the cadence of a heated argument clear even if the words were anything but. Jess was giggling behind the camera as the debate reached new heights.

"--twenty-three times, Hal! What the hell were you two doing? Did the Guard--"

"Of course they knew, Kyle! This was before the law that forbade relationships, you idiot!"

Hal and Kyle, standing close together with their faces alight because of this entire debacle, were trading barbs with each other. Kyle in particular looked like he wanted nothing more than to throw Hal out of the window. "You got married to that asshole twenty-three times and you didn't think to tell us?"

Hal threw his hands up in the air. "You never asked!"

"Oh! Sorry then, I didn't realise I had to ask to know the sordid details of the great Hal Jordan's life! I'm asking now! What the hell is wrong with you?" Kyle bellowed.

Jess didn't think she'd quite seen Kyle this angry in her life. Then again, he was always full of surprises.

With a scowl, Hal grumbled, "You want the long answer or the short answer?"

"Long, obviously!"

"I..." Hal rubbed a frustrated hand over his face. "Okay. Listen, it was just diplomacy at first and then it kinda spiralled outta control so now we're here. Really, you're making a big deal of nothing. It's not like we're living together or anything."

"Yeah," Kyle hissed, "I'd sure hope so considering the guy tried to kill me!"

Waving a hand flippantly with a scowl, Hal said, "He's tried to kill all of us. You're being dramatic."

"I'm--" Kyle turned straight to Jess, eyes wild and radiating fury. "You're hearing this bullshit, right? Like, you're getting all of this too?"

Jess's thumbs up was visible for the camera, although the shaking made it extremely clear that she was just barely holding herself together for this. Hal groaned. "Can we please drop this? He's not exactly a great husband."

"Yeah. I can imagine, Hal." Kyle stopped short, looking a little unwell for a moment. "Oh God, I dated your stepdaughter."

Hal rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and that ended so well. Hypocrite."

"No!" Kyle jabbed a finger at Hal, pushing him back half a step with all of the audacity in the world. "No, you don't get to talk! I didn't marry her twenty-three times!"

"It wasn't a weird thing back then!" Hal said hotly. "We married each other all the time for diplomacy shit! I married John, like, twice!"

Kyle's voice cracked right down the middle. "John?"

"And Guy! We're all married to each other!"

"Oh my God. Oh my God." Kyle slumped into a chair. Jess was audibly losing it behind the camera, the screen shaking so violently the image was more or less ruined. "You...oh my God. You're in a fucking polycule."

"Sure. Whatever the hell that means."

Burying his face in his hands, Kyle gave a very distressed, very strangle sort of cry that sounded suspiciously close to a sob. "'Whatever that means,' he says. He's married to John and Guy and he doesn't give a shit. This entire time. This entire time, Hal?"

Hal, thoroughly over this, turned to Jess with incredulity written all over his face. "He's overreacting, right? Like, come on. I married a bunch of people back in the day."

Jess, almost entirely unable to choke out an answer through her genuine tears of laughter, responded with, "You--maybe you should've-should've told us?"

He crossed his arms, petulant. "Maybe you should learn how to ask first."

Kyle sobbed again.

#lanternfam #green lantern #hal jordan #kyle rayner #jessica cruz #physically incapable of not bullying the shit out of kyle #he's my beloved :)#this was really funny btw i love this #imagine divorcing on twenty three planets

42 notes · View notes

sapphiccaa · 3 hours ago

Text

got you running in circles

arthurtv x reader

cw: suggestive, fluff, flirting, drinking, friends to lovers, submissive arthur xD

an: hey guys!! This is my first fic uploaded directly to Tumblr !!! im super excited to release this because I’m quite proud of it :D

2.1k words

masterlist ★ ao3 link

You peered through the windows of the bar, noticing how dark it had gotten since you arrived. It was mid-summer so the sun usually set quite late anyways. Your first drink was settling into your body nicely, feeling light and airy. The beating music in the room swayed your weight from foot to foot. Arthur, George, and Isaac had all snagged stools at the bar, leaving you to stand. Arthur had insisted you take his stool but you insisted that you enjoyed standing.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit?” Arthur asked. “I really don’t mind.” You hated this, you really didn’t want to inconvenience anyone.

A voice behind you spoke, “Just sit on the poor man’s lap.” It was Arthur Hill, who had just returned from the toilet.

George and Isaac both chimed in, laughing casually and agreeing with Hill. Your eyes met Arthur’s who wasn’t laughing, but rather smiling awkwardly. Oh… he was so cute like this. This will be fun.

“You know what? You’re right,” you said, “Arthur?” Raising a suggestive eyebrow, asking for his permission.

He puffed out a breath of air and nodded, “I guess yeah I don’t mind.” He moved the hand that was resting on his thigh to the wooden bar top, the other by his side holding a pint. You shuffled to sit across his legs, your back resting against the bar. You immediately recognized the warm stiffness of his thighs under yours, skirt riding up just enough that your bare skin was touching his jeans.

You turned your head to Arthur, as if to make the moment slightly more intimate, only for him. “Thank you,” you said under your breath. His sweet smile shone back at you, and you could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Was he nervous? God, you hoped so.

You turned your attention back to the other guys who were chatting about Hill’s bathroom trip.

“Why didn’t you lock the stall though?” George asked.

“I thought I fucking did, mate!” Hill fought back, “the door was closed. I don’t see why she opened the door.” He looked utterly perplexed, his words slurring accordingly.

“Hold up,” you broke in, “it was a woman? In the men’s toilets?”

“That’s the kind of thing I would do,” Arthur said, his gentle chuckles pressing against you.

Everything was so funny to you now, “What the hell are you talking about, Arthur?”

“Have I not told you this?”

“No!” you nearly yelled. “Wait, let the other Arthur finish his story first. And then you,” emphasizing this by pressing a finger against his chest, “will tell me everything about this.” You turned back to Hill expectantly. He continued to tell his account, but Arthur shifting around under you was pretty distracting.

Arthur’s generally giddy drunken exterior was replaced by a flushed quiet appearance. Your attention migrated to the cup in his hand, nearly empty. “Want another?” you whispered, leaning close to his ear. Before he could respond, you leaned back to grab the attention of the bartender. You ordered two stella’s, Arthur waiting patiently under your thighs. “Returning the favor,” you said, handing him his pint, “for the seat.”

He chuckled, obviously remembering how silly he felt with a pretty girl on his lap. “It’s not a problem, really.”

The night continued on, drinks swung down your throat in succession, Arthur following easily along. At one point, you couldn’t place exactly why it had happened, but one of his palms had found its way around your waist. He must’ve not hated how it felt, keeping his grip clamped to you. His nervous semblance was shedding to a more red-faced giggling Arthur. The hand migrated from a safe hold on your waist to a slippery slope against your hip, near the waistband of your skirt. With every opportunity you were given, you leaned close to his ear and whispered jokes and comments. You wanted these to be just for him, creating a secret ecosystem between the two of you.

Possibly it was the booze, but there were increasingly more times when Arthur would trip over his words, commonly after you said something that could be interpreted as suggestive. He would keel over a bit, laughing hard and gripping you a bit tighter. Of course it was to make sure you didn’t fall off his lap, but you’ve got to admit, it felt nice to have him hold you like this.

At one point a woman in a low cut red top approached, offering to buy you a drink. She was quite attractive, you flirted a bit, playing the game of table tennis with your words. There was a moment where she alluded at a threesome with “the cute boy” sitting under you. His breath caught in his throat. You took that opportunity to wrap an arm behind his back, rubbing small circles into his muscles. You swore something shifted below you in that moment, an unmistakable stiffness under my thighs.

The woman ended up getting whisked away by her friends—hopefully you’d see her again. Even with her gone, the nervous energy radiated hotly off Arthur. He wasn’t laughing at all your jokes anymore, it was probably reaching the point of the night for him where he clocked out mentally. But it felt too early for him.

You leaned close to his ear once again, “you alright?”. You swear he shivered, so you ran circles over his back again. His eyes met yours and he adjusted his posture, now you knew what was up. “Do you want me off?”

“No.”

You glanced at the phone in his hand and back to his face, “your phone isn’t in your pocket.” You couldn’t contain your smile.

He stuttered his words, “No I… that’s not…Sorry.”

God he is cute when he’s embarrassed. You wanted to take him home. “I want to take you home with me.” You don’t know why you said that. It was true, but you had no right being that upfront and desperate.

Somehow you didn’t royally fuck everything up. “Yeah.” Arthur is a no-bullshit kind of guy, he’ll tell you how he’s feeling, and thank god for that. “Now?”

“Why not,” you squeezed his shoulder and then slipped off his lap. After hugging George goodbye, you peered back to see Arthur sitting uncomfortably, unabashedly squirming in the spot, waiting for you. There are so many awful things you could do to him tonight.

You walked side by side on the pavement, your hands centimeters away from touching as you got closer to the tube station. The train was basically empty when you got on, the late hour attributing to that. You sat close together, closer than was probably necessary, but you didn’t mind the warmth that radiated onto your body. He leaned slightly, his deep breaths felt against your skin. You restrained yourself from fully turning to admire his pretty face. You wanted to make him work for this.

Not too soon after, you were back outdoors and a two minutes walk to your flat. He started talking about bats, specifically about how he thinks they’re increasing in population in the city of Greater London.

“I know someone who found a bunch of baby bats huddled in the corner of his shed. I know I’d be freaked out if I found those things living in my home.”

“They’re quite cute though, aren't they?” you said. “They have such big eyes when you look at them up close, really. Those fruit bats.” They vaguely remind you of Arthur when he gets quiet.

His voice pitched up a smidge, “That’s the problem! They are incredibly cute and then they spread their arms and it looks like a monster from hell coming to take you down.” He performed an exaggerated shiver, “Crikey I hate thinking of this, especially in the dark.”

He looked so vulnerable, you wanted to hold him like a small puppy. You gently slipped your hand to touch his inner wrist. It waited a moment and then slid lower, your palms pressing together and fingers intertwining. You could get used to the feeling of his uncalloused hand, larger than your own, holding you sweetly.

You eventually reached the destination and obviously Arthur fumbled with the front door, pulling instead of pushing. Bless him, he was so nervous. You wanted to calm him down, so you brushed a hand over his shoulder, letting it stretch along his back to accompany him as you walked up the narrow stairwell.

You could barely react when out of the corner of your eye, Arthur fell, in what seemed like slow motion, on the last stair before your flat. He landed on both knees, hair fluffed up a bit, and wincing at the impact. He looked up at you, on his fucking knees, catching his breath with his mouth hanging slightly open.

You couldn’t help myself, “You look quite cute. Like this,” you finger reaching to tap below his chin, pushing up. His jaw closed with the motion and then opened back again, borderline drooling. “You’re going to be fun for me tonight, won’t you?”

Arthur gulped, “I don’t know why this is doing so much to me.” Never breaking eye contact, you slipped your hand higher to cup his cheek, so so sweet like this.

“Get up.”

He stood up no problem, quick on his feet. Was he going to keep being this good once you got into your flat? You entered, Arthur shuffling his shoes off and waiting for your next instruction as you locked the door.

“So what do you wanna do,” he said in a single breath.

“Want to see my bedroom?” you asked like a little kid. He nodded with a drunken smile, so you grabbed his hand and led him until you were face to face in your locked lamp-lit room.

The light glowed on the curves of his features, highlighting his cheeks and brow bone. You brushed a hand over the sunny light, trying to push more warmth into his skin. He leaned against the palm, allowing himself to use it as a crutch for his head. Two fingers rubbed small circles into his temple, you kept eye contact like this, no words had to be spoken to appreciate this moment. The corners of his mouth curled into a tight smile, teeth exposing from his excitement. Naturally, he stuck his tongue out to poke your hand with it. He probably expected you to react like he always did when Chris did the same to him. Instead, you paid no attention to it, continuing to brush paths on the side of his head. He chuckled, scrunching his nose which you couldn’t help but find irresistibly cute. Guess he wasn’t done being a little shit, because he stuck his tongue out again, this time running it up your exposed palm in a drawn-out motion, covering as much surface area as possible. When his dark pupils locked into your eyes, you could tell this wasn’t a joke anymore. Sweeping your hand down, two fingers touched his plush bottom lip. With barely any motivation, his jaw fell enough to let you intrude. Skimming your fingers over the tip of his tongue, he allowed more of himself to open up. You didn’t pry too much, the pads of your fingers laying just past the line of his teeth.

“You’re good,” you said. He didn’t say anything but his face visibly blushed, blinking hard at you. “Do you want to sit on my bed?” He nodded eagerly. “No outside clothes,” you curled fingers under the collar of his soft beige shirt, “you were in the bar with these.”

Arthur glanced down at the hand touching him fairly innocently, shocked at the insinuation. “Makes sense, yeah,” he rushed out, reaching to push his shorts off. You turned away and went to find your pajamas. It’d be quite nice to get him to properly unwrap you. As you faced away from him, you slipped your skirt and top off, spending extra time unclasping your bra and dropping it on the floor. You peered slightly to the left, trying to catch if he was watching in your periphery. He was standing awkwardly in his black boxers, hands clasped in front of him, possibly trying to hide something.

You finished dressing and brought yourself back to him, one hand on either of his upper arms.

“I can keep these on, yeah?” He giggled nervously.

“Of course.” You wanted to call him something cute but you weren’t so sure what it would be yet. You rubbed both hands down the expanse of his arms, it’s often easy to forget how built he was under all of his clothes. He glanced down shyly, getting embarrassed from the attention. You leaned close to his ear, “You’re beautiful.” His forehead fell forward and leaned on your shoulder, seeking support. “Is this too much?” you whispered.

“No,” he said simply.

an: fade to black!! So sorry I’ve never written x reader smut before and I’m scared bahhhhh!! anywho i hope u enjoyed and im always open for suggestions/requests so don't be shy ;) any shares are appreciated!!

33 notes · View notes

itsjustt-elli · 18 hours ago

Text

Shes at your window pt.2

Stalker!Abby x Loser!Reader

But check your windows.. Shes at your window

—Tyler The Creator —She

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Summary:You decided to be brave and speak to her.. But God, Dina is always butting in.

Tags::squirt,oral/eating you out,praise kìñķ, yeah thats it..

A/n: Genuinely did not expect this to blow up… I love you guys tho😌💗

MEN & MINORS DNI

…..

It was so easy to catch her.

Abby didn’t even try to hide the fact that she put cameras in ur house. Well, yeah she did but she didn’t do a good job. Like, at all.

How did you find out? While you were getting for bed one day the corner of your room lit up, lit up red, like a little recording dot almost, ‘Was somebody watching you?’ ‘Out of all people, why you?’ ‘Maybe you were just seeing things, and nobody was watching you. Oh, or maybe it was spider with red eyes.’ Whatever this is stupid.

Then you fell asleep. The next day, you woke up, got dressed, put on your shoes and walked out. Sure, this day is like every other day, but God, it was eating you from the inside out, was somebody actually genuinely interested in watching YOU, out of the 9 billion people in the world. You?

You walked into your local coffee shop, like any other day, and asked for your normal order. You sat down at a table while waiting. A woman was sitting across from you wearing a black hat, tight fitted black shirt that fit her biceps like a match made in heaven, and sweatpants, oh yeah, oh yeah, and she was super hot. ‘Does she think she’s mysterious or something? Eh, whatever.’

You thought to yourself all other kinda stupid thoughts like;

‘ I wonder if she’s my age’

‘I should ask for her number’

‘She looks gay’

‘I’m gonna cry if she’s straight’

‘Its definitely pin-‘

“[ᝰ.ᐟ] come get your order.” You were way to distracted thinking about this random women to even hear the employee calling your name for your order— “Oh, sorry!” You walked up to the counter grabbing your drink.

@graciedollie creds to this lovely writer <3

“Err,”— the employee struggled, “Abby?” They said out a name. Pretty name. “Thanks.” she said with a slight smile on her face. She looked like an angel, did you just fall in love with a random stranger?

Abby walked up to the counter grabbing her things. While she was doing that she happen to set her phone down, you looked over at it glancing slightly, then her phone lit up with a notification; ‘Motion detected. 11:09 AM’

Oh, it’s nothing just her security system. Till she clicked on the notification, there it was, your bedroom. The camera pointing in just the right angle to get all the angles and portions of your bed room.

She could see. Everything.

She turned off her phone so quick that you could barely process what you just saw she slightly peeked at you through her lashes, then her face got pink and she looked away quick, like she knew you or something?

I mean, obviously she did, she was your biggest fan.

“Hey-” you tried to talk to her, but damn, she walked out so quick you couldn’t even get the chance to finish your sentence.

So that day you went home and searched up Abby, on TikTok, Instagram, Snapchat, and Facebook. Abby, Abby, Abby, Ab— there she was on Facebook— Abby Anderson.

Honestly, you got lucky, all her accounts are private and she doesn’t talk to anyone except her dog. Alice. That doesn’t matter though.

Now, looking at her up close, jeez, she was breathtakingly beautiful; pretty lips shaped in a Cupid shape, long blond hair pulled into a braid, hazel blueish eyes, and a soft smile. And also, shes built like a Greek goddess, like Aphrodite and Zeus had a love baby.

You felt like you’ve seen her before, numbers of times actually, almost like she was following you. If you were in grocery; store she was in the grocery store, if you’re going to sleep; shes watching you, if you were at a party; she was to.

How did she know you were doing this stuff? Well, she follows your instagram account where you post all your pictures stuff but you also post updates.

So, she knew if you were going somewhere. Oh yeah, she also put an AirTag in your car. So there’s no way you can escape her.

God, she was an obsessed loser. You were to.

Once you found her account you couldn’t stop looking at her. I mean honestly how could you. Your obsession had gotten so bad that you started moaning her name as you finished.

Oh, this was bad.

You wanted to talk to her, so bad. But you never got the chance too. She would always shy away from you.

It ends now.

So, you asked your friend Dina to throw a party with her girlfriend. A little get together almost, and invite Abby.

How? Well, you’re gonna post Dina’s party invitation, act all excited or whatever, and tag Abby in the post. You figured out her account pretty soon after you did your research.

“Party at Dina’s tonight! So excited.”

Was the caption you put for your post. You tagged Dina, Ellie, Jesse, blah blah blah, and of course— Abby.

Your hands shaked as you sent the post button.

»»

It’s been a few hours and you made it to the party, and Abby still hasn’t showed up.

‘I knew this was stupid anyways.’

You thought to yourself.

“Yo, [ᝰ.ᐟ]— jesse called out your name “come over here were playing spin the bottle.” you scoffed, “childish” you said walking over.

A couple minutes go by and this stupid fucking bottle hasn’t landed on you yet, and you were glad actually, ellie was your best friends; dina, girlfriend, jesse is a guy, and all the rest of these people who you didn’t know looked disgusting.

Then the front door opened.

“Hey guys sorry i’m late i had to do someth—“. there she was, Abby fucking Anderson. She paused after seeing you.

Dina yelled out “come on over it’s totally fine”she was hammered.

Abby looked around her eyes roaming carefully before pausing by the empty space by you. She walked over as you looked at her through your lashes, all dressed up and pretty. Just for her.

“C-can i sit right here?..” her voice made you wanna scream, God she was attractive.

you kinda half whispered “Sure.” She took a seat next to you on the floor, letting out a groan of relief. you examined her closely.

Black baggy jeans, low enough to see her boxer line; classic. White wife beater and a jean jacket to top it all off. Oh yeah, and her carabiner, duh.

“Alrightuhh— dina yelled out louder enough to snap you out your trance “spin the bott—“ she stopped suddenly and her half lidded eyes shot over to you and abby, shoulder to shoulder.

“You, abby switch with ellie” she slurred.

Oh god, ellie was right across from you. Dina smirked at you as abby and ellie stood up to switch pleaces, oh, she knew what she was doing.

“Alright, spin the bottle” Ellie said, her loud voice hurting your ears.

you watched it closely as it spun around fast, then it got slower, and slower, and slower the it stopped. Oh great just your luck. It landed right across in a straight line.

Which also meant it landed on you and abby.

“Ooooo— dina followed on, she was making this more embarrassing then it needed to be.

“You know what, i think you guys should do 7 minutes in heaven” dina said, not clearly, but she still said it.

Followed by that was an array of ‘Ooo’s across the room. “No, no guys, we barely even know each other” abby exclaimed.

You nodded your head in agreement, you were actually thanking dina in your head.

“nope no excuses—” ellie told you.

“fine” you sighed. you stood and grabbed abby’s hand helping her up. “Have funnn” Dina teased.

You guided abby’s hand to the guest bedroom closed the door and locked it. not like you guys were gonna be doing anything anyways, right?

The silence stood loud.

Awkward almost. God you can’t stand this feeling of awkward. “So.. Uhm..” you broke the silence.

Abby followed after you.. “We should probably just kiss just to you know.. make them happy.”

“Right.” you moved closer to her, you could feel her heart beating fast and the heat radiating off her body.

You slightly pecked her on the lips, she was so damn tall you had to get on your tippy toes.

Well, it was just supposed to be a peck, till she leaned in for more, she has been craving your taste since, God, she forgot.

The quick peck turned into a low slow make out her sweet taste covering your tongue and lips.

she whimpered and moaned into your mouth as her hands roamed your body, studying every curse.

“Mm— i’ve wanted you for so fucking long baby.” she said inbetween kisses. “Yeah?” you groaned.

Her knees just buckled.

She snuck her hand down slowly her fingers finding your jean waistband. She fidgeted with the button a bit before unzipping the zipper.

You moaned at the cold sensation hitting ur core “ah— abby” she kissed down your neck, to your chest, to your belly button, she inched lower and lower just to tease you.

“You’re such a tease” you giggled slightly, her brows furrowed, “i’ve been told.” she chuckled. she looked down, then back up, and down again at your zipper.

Your zipper read; ‘lucky you’. “Oh, very mature” she laughed.

“What ? What did i do?” you asked confused. “Lucky you?..” she said looking up at you. Oh, oops “I guess it was just a coincidence” you joked. “Yeah right” she laughed.

She pullled down your jeans and spread your legs out over the white sheets and blue sheets.

Her jaw slightly clinched at the sight of your soaked panties, now clinging to your folds. Her fingers grazed over it slightly, enough to send shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip and lifted ur hips indicating her to take off your panties, and jeez, she wasted zero time. “I’m sorry” was all you heard before the sound of cotton ripping filled the room. She just tore your panties off you in two seconds.

That got you even wetter.

Your drenched swollen cunt was right in abby’s face, and it was calling her name.

Next thing you know, your cunt feels warm, the warmness of abby’s wet tounge lapped over your cunt making almost pornograpic sounds.

“Oh— fuck abby, please” you moaned out. Her hands reached over your mouth, “shh, princess don’t want the others to hear, yeah?”

She continued to fuck your starving cunt with her tongue all while praising you with words like;

‘I know baby, I know.”

‘shh, shh, shh, it’s okay i got you’

‘ you’re doing so good princess’

‘Good girl your doing so well’

’Mhm, you taste so good’

It was heaven, suddenly the knot in your stomach ached closer indicating your gonna cum. “Mm- abby m’ gonna cum”

She chuckled sending vibrations through your cunt “Cum all over my face princess— show me in the only one who can make you feel this good.”

Then it happened, your eyes rolled back and ur voice cracked in attempt of trying to say her name all while the clear and white liquid gushed out of you. leaving a cast on her tongue.

She laughed and gave your cunt a few kisses before getting up and kissing you slightly with one hand on your throat subtly pushing down.

“Fuck, you taste amazing..” she sighed climbing next to you. “Did i make that mess?” you chuckle looking down. The previous blue and white sheets were now see through and stained. all with your arousal.

“Mhm” she smiled slightly.

You laughed, then stopped realizing that you didn’t do anything for her.

“Abby,— you said looking at her, her head snapped towards you “hm?”

“You didn’t get off did you?” you asked. “ I mean, no but it’s totally fine i don’t mi—” You cut her off “Nuh uh— i wanna make sure your okay too.” she smirked.

“Whatever your say goes” she chuckled leaning in for a kiss.

Funny how you guys went to stalking each other to fucking. isn’t it?

────୨ৎ────

A/n:: so sorry this took hella long to reslease. Also kinda rushed at the end. I have the flu and while I was writing this it really kicked me in the butt😭

────୨ৎ────

@graciedollie @liliofabby @mewl3tte @eddiesdrummergf @spirituallesbian @cloudyorgy @moonystoes

All my tags— so sorry if I forgot you💔

#lesbian #wlw #graciedollie ᯓᡣ𐭩 #tlou #abby anderson #abby x reader

32 notes · View notes

classica-meretrix · 2 days ago

Note

i love your writing!!!! could i perhaps request a mortal friends to lovers leo valdez x reader au?? like they're both at college, leo takes mec eng(obviously lol) and reader takes psychology and it's just painful fluff with mutual pining losers with smut when they end up sleeping together after a super romcom dramatic like confession from leo?? lol sorry for the big ass text i'm just way into romcoms rn😅 (also subby leo lmao)

thank you so much for the request, love! leo is so fun to write for, and I ended up making this a two parter, so stay tuned for next week!

Are You Mad?

pt1, pt2

pairing: mortal leo valdez x fem!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: couldn't help but add some greek references lol, readers in denial, hoo friend group, dramatic love confession of course summary: you and leo end up as best friends after a chance collision, but soon it looks like it might be more a/n: I'm so excited to write the part 2 for this. should probably be out next thursday!

I tossed my empty cup into a trash can as I passed, trying to shuffle through the stack of papers and folders stacked in my arms with only one hand. At this point I was only half convinced I'd finished that paper, and if I didn't find it before I got Mr. Whitman's class, I was as good as dead.

Just as I thought I saw the header of the essay I had been searching for, I collided with something hard, and all my papers flew out of my arms, littering the sidewalk.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," the guy hurried out, immediately ducking down to collect my mess. All I could see of him from this angle was a mess of black curls, and the back of a beat up Carhartt jacket.

"No, no, that was on me. I wasn't looking where I was going." I grabbed as many of the papers as I could, attempting to put them back in a neat stack. "I was trying to find an essay."

"This one?" he asked, looking up. I was met with warm chocolate brown eyes, leaving me stunned for a moment. He had picked up a thin stack that had been stapled together at the corner, holding it at an awkward angle to read the title. "The Self: Human Nature or All in Our Heads?"

"Yep. That's the one." I had gathered myself enough to answer with a shy smile.

"Psychology?" he continued with a mischievous looking grin, handing over the last few rogue papers.

"Second year."

"Me too!" he said enthusiastically. "I mean—second year, not psych. I'm mechanical engineering."

"That's my roommates major! She loves it, but I've never been able to follow it much."

"It's not too hard once you get the hang of it. I'm Leo, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you! I'd shake your hand, but I'd probably drop all this again."

"We wouldn't want that," he laughed.

Just as I was about to make another comment, I caught a glance of his watch. "Shit. I'm gonna be late. It was lovely to talk to you, hope to see you around," I called over my shoulder as I hurried off to my class.

"That's the second time today!" Percy yelled, hopping up from his seat, the front of his shirt and pants soaked. "Why can't this shit be waterproof or something?"

"Sorry, man," Leo apologized, though his teasing tone and proud smile suggested otherwise.

As soon as Percy was out of the dorm room, hurrying off to change, Jason turned to his friend. "You've got to stop doing that," he laughed. "I think he's almost at the breaking point."

Leo shrugged, turning his attention back to me. I was laid in his bed on my stomach as he sat on the floor, resting his chin on the edge of the mattress.

"What was I saying?" he asked, his nose scrunching adorably.

"Those... Sphere thingies."

"Right!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "Archimedes' spheres. We were talking about them in class today. I mean, he had some crazy ideas, but these things were just wild. They're way too complicated. Those things would never work. They don't even know what half of them are supposed to do."

"He sounds rather ambitious. Like someone else I know," I responded, gently tapping the end of his nose. He scrunched it again at my actions, making me what to repeat my actions a thousand times over.

What the hell are you doing? Snap out of it.

I pulled my hand back to my side as he went on, rambling about the impossibility of the inventions. We were only a few inches away from each other, his chin on the edge of the bed and mine resting on the back of my palm, but neither of us seemed to notice the proximity.

How the hell I ended up in this position, I couldn't really tell you. It was probably Percy's stupid idea to come to this stupid party.

Leo was across the room, talking to some girl, and for some reason I couldn't pinpoint, I was pissed about it. Part of myself was saying he's just talking to some girl, what's the big deal? But another—much louder—part of me wanted to scream at how close they were, talking maybe a few inches apart at most, and neither had looked up for six minutes and fifty-two seconds. Not that I was counting. What has gotten into me?

I eventually tore my eyes away from them, afraid I'd make myself sick if I stared at them any longer. Set on searching out Annabeth, I took off into the crowd, eventually finding her in the kitchen, tucked under Percy's arm.

"I'm gonna head out."

Her expression immediately turned to worry as she saw my own. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" I answered, though my words came out sharp and uncomfortable, clearly not convincing either of us.

"I'll go with you."

"No, really. Percy's way too drunk to be left with the boys." My excuse was true, he was slurring aggressively, telling an overly exaggerated story.

"Jason isn't drinking, he'll be fine."

"Really," I tried again, practically pleading. I was more eager than ever now to get out of there, my skin heating to an unbearable temperature in time I'd be standing there.

She hesitated, studying me. "Fine. But text me as soon as your back in the dorm. Kay?"

"Mhm," I nodded, immediately ducking towards the door. I was eager for the fresh air, but as soon as I pushed my way outside I was pelted with thick, cold rain drops. Great.

I tried to ignore my shivering, tugging off my heels to avoid slipping. I was halfway home when my phone started ringing, playing the custom ringtone Leo had insisted I used for his contact. I hurriedly ignored it, fumbling with my heels and the slippery screen, but just as soon as I had put my phone away, it was blaring again.

"For fuck's sake!" I yelled, scrambling to clear it again.

'Where are you?' his text read. 'Are you okay?' 'Answer me please.'

"Give it up," I muttered angrily, shoving my phone into my bag. I had just made it to my building when an all too familiar voice came from somewhere behind me through the heavy patter of rain.

"Thank God! Are you okay?"

"Would everyone stop asking that?" I snapped, spinning around to face him. Leo was climbing out of his cherry red Cadillac he'd fixed up, hurrying over to me.

"I thought something had happened to you? Why didn't you answer my calls or texts?" His eyes quickly scanned over me, taking in the thin dress sticking to my skin, heels in one hands, and arms wrapped tightly around myself as I shivered violently. "You're shaking. Take my jacket," he started, shrugging off his coat.

I brushed him off, ignoring his attempts. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What? I'm making sure you're okay. You shouldn't be walking home by yourself at two in the morning. Please, take the jacket."

"No."

"Are you mad at me or something?"

"Yes! No... I–I don't know! Can you just leave me alone?" I angrily pleaded. His expression was somewhere between confused and hurt, the arm holding his jacket now hanging by his side. "Shouldn't you be off with some little blonde?"

That comment struck a chord, only deepening his confusion. "No?" he said, almost as more of a question. "Are you mad about me talking to a girl?"

"I don't want to talk about this!" I yelled back, desperately wanting to get out of the heavy rain. I could practically feel the cold in my bones, and my clothes were clinging to me uncomfortably.

"I do," he pouted, looking like a kicked puppy. His curls were matted down on his forehead, his grease-stained t-shirt sticking to his skin, and his jacket hanging limping at his side, not bothering to put it back on.

"What is there to talk about? I'm soaking wet, cold, and tired, I don't want to talk about some skank at a frat party!"

"Are you jealous or something?" He had begun to raise his voice, from a mix of the loud rain and aggravation.

"Maybe I am!" I yelled in response. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"Yes," he answered, not skipping a beat.

I was too stunned to answer him, the anger suddenly leaving me. The image of us yelling at each other in the rain about something so simple suddenly seemed absurd, and I was frantically trying to figure out how we had ended up here. I was just beginning to realize I may feel something different for my best friend, and here he was saying he might feel the same.

He stared at me for what felt like forever, until I managed to croak out a barely audible, "What?"

"I like you. Hell, if we're being honest, I think I'm in love with you."

His big brown eyes watched me with no expectation, just observing. I realized he wasn't waiting for me to say it back, or even acknowledge it, he was just... watching me process.

Before I knew what I was doing I had thrown my heels to the ground, launching myself at him. I pressed my lips against his as I threaded my fingers through his soaked curls. Leo's hands instinctively found my waist, tugging me closer.

His teeth tugged my bottom lip, nipping me before his tongue darted out to lick across the area in a soothing manner. I tugged his hair at the action, silently praising him.

I pulled away breathlessly, trying to get even closer to him. "You're so warm," I muttered against his lips. My shivering had decreased significantly since he'd wrapped his arms around me.

"Let's get you inside." My only option for a response was a mindless nod, before returning to his lips.

#fluff #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #leo valdez fluff #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez #leo valdez x y/n #request #answered asks #ask #answered prompt #answered

28 notes · View notes