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1 year ago

REASSURED

as much as you love being praised..being told how much of a good girl you are and how you take him so well, he sometimes needs a bit of encouragement of his own. He needs to be reassured that he’s doing a good job too. Sometimes, his insecurities get the best of him and he wants to hear you say it…say it whilst your legs are tightly coiled around his waist, hands around his neck and his cock buried deep inside of you. He wants you to say it when he’s staring into your eyes, trying to keep pace and eye contact but the feeling of your warmth is too much to handle…he needs you to tell him just how much you love it, how much you love him. “Oh fuck… ‘m so close, baby..so fucking close. You feel so good..” “I know, and you’re fucking me so good. You’re making this pussy feel so good..thank you, daddy.” Sweetly cooing with a palm trailing his cheeks. He’s so gracious for all your encouraging words because he can give you the pleasure you truly deserve..finding the strength to keep going. “Yeah?..Make me take that dick. This is yours, baby. Nobody else can fuck me like you do—that’s it, go deeper!—“ giving him ample fuel to pound you into this mattress. Meanwhile, you’re telling him all the things he wants to hear. Watching him slam himself balls deep into your core when he folds your legs back into a makeshift mating press. Sweat is trickling down his forehead..his veiny hands curled into a vice grip on your thick thighs and that pulsating cock nestled between your walls. “Focus on me, that’s right. Look in my eyes, baby. I’m gonna come and it’s all for you. Make me squirt on this dick..” Or when he gets you on all fours, head reigned in by fingers coiled around your throat and a grip on your thick ass, tugging you back and forth and he feels as if he’s going to come too quickly because the view is so sexy; that recoil and sound from that clapping flesh makes him faint. But you pull him back in with those sweet affirmations. “Oh my gosh..yes! Look what you’re doing to me. I can’t stop shaking…this dick ‘s so big.” He may feel as though he lacks in a lot of areas and his confidence isn’t always up to par but as long as he has you, none of that matters. He can conquer the world with your reassurance.

───✱*.。:。✱*.:。✧*.。✰───────✱*.。:。✱*.:。✧*.。✰────

REINER, ARMIN, CHOSO, mitsuya, jean, nanami (?) + anyone else you’d like to add (drew a bit of a blank for this one)


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Somnophilia

A/N: Yes, that's it. That's the title. I wrote this with one particular person in mind that I know will perhaps enjoy something like this. That particular someone is: @cherryblossomsenpai Enjoy!

TW: somnophilia (very much consensual), needy character, female reader, breeding kink (? mentions of wanting to start a family), praising, some fluff sprinkled throughout. Word count 1k. :)

It was late, a dark and cold winter night. The harsh, bitter wind bites at the apples of his cheeks, mirroring shards of glass against his soft skin. He can't see very far ahead, despite the lights littering the street, and the full moon doesn't help much, it only casts an eerie shadow on the roads behind him.

Trudging up the stairs to your shared home, he knows you'll be fast asleep, swallowed up in blankets in bed. Despite the heater being turned on he knows your feet will be freezing. He knows you'll be clutching a pillow, pretending it's him, breathing in his scent embedded in the sheets.

He knows your nose will be slightly red, the cold always gave you a runny nose. He knows that, even though it's cold, you sleep in one of his shirts, engulfed in what's his, the fabric falling just below your knees. He knows that you tried waiting up for him, even after he told you not to.

As he steps into your shared home he finds a plate on the table, his dinner. He eats with a content smile, happy that you still think of him, even when he's away for work. He knows it's hard for you some days, not having him here with you all the time, but he's grateful that you understand.

You've always been there for him, through everything he's ever needed and wanted. At first, he wasn't able to comprehend your love, you wanted to care for him, to hold and kiss him, to have him wrapped in your arms forever, as you would put it.

He was never one to be given care, he was always the giver. Dishing out love and attention for others, leaving himself rundown and exhausted. Your love was always met with confusion and a stiff body because he hadn't been shown that love in years.

He was broken in a sense, he never fully healed from the life he had before he met you. In the moments you got to know him, you always saw glimpses of the hurt little boy, fleeting from your view whenever you got too close.

He wanted to be strong for you, to protect you from the evil in the world. He wanted to make sure your spark never dimmed, that the kindness you showed to him and others around you never went away. He knew he couldn't always shield you, but he knew he could try his best. And that's exactly what he did.

He protected you from the ugliness of the world, he was strong for you, helping you in your times of need, even when you said you didn't need help. You were always stubborn like that, but he knew you were just as broken as he was. So you rebuilt each other together, you started from what the world has reduced you to, broken shards of what used to be carefree and loving people, and you made each other whole again.

There were bumps in the road, and you lost parts of yourself that were irredeemable, but you both managed to get through it. Together. And the ring that sits in his drawer is his way of saying thank you. He appreciates everything you've done and everything you've sacrificed for him.

He wants to spend the rest of his life with you, however long he has. It's something he's never been more certain of, something that didn't take him long to find out once he was comfortable with you. And not too long after he made the discovery, he found the perfect ring for you.

He knows that he wants to build a family with you, he knows that you've built a home together, one that will shield your children from the outside world for as long as they need. He wants to see you glow from pregnancy, he wants to come home and talk to your swollen belly at night. He dreams of it and he knows it's not out of reach.

So, once he finishes his meal, he makes his way upstairs to your shared bedroom. He finds you asleep exactly the way he knew you would be, clutching his pillow, the blankets bundled around you. Shutting the door softly, he makes his way to the bed, shrugging off his jacket and sliding off his shoes. He tugs his shirt off and unfastens his belt as silently as he can, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber.

The rest of his clothes come off and fall in a pile somewhere on the floor, the bed dips just slightly when he climbs onto it. Grabbing the edge of the blanket he carefully lifts it just enough so he can move next to you. He watches you for a moment, admiring your sleeping figure, listening to your soft snores, and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Sliding his arms underneath you, he carefully pulls you towards him and lifts your shirt ever so slightly, much to his delight he finds you have nothing underneath. Perhaps you knew tonight would end as so many had ended before, entangled bodies in equally entangled sheets.

He knows he should wait until morning, it’s only a few hours away, but he can’t. Not after he sees how pretty your cunt looks when he nudges your legs apart. Not after he runs his calloused hands along your thighs, up your hips, and tracing your waist and just under your breasts.

He moves over you, placing gentle kisses wherever he can without waking you. From your jaw to your collarbone, from your collarbone to your waist, and from your waist to your inner thighs he presses kiss after kiss.

Carefully lifting your legs over his shoulders, he admires the sight in front of him, never getting tired of your pretty cunt. Leaning in, he eats you out like a man starved, but he’s still slow and careful.

Using his index fingers he gently spreads you apart, admiring the way your cunt glistens in the soft moonlight, both from his spit and your growing arousal. He buries himself in you once more, inhaling your scent and sucking on your clit eagerly.

It’s messy now, with lewd sounds filling the once-quiet room. The sounds of him slurping and licking your cunt, paired with your soft, sleepy moans only egg him on. In your sleep, you shift, spreading your legs and giving him more access to devour you.

His calloused hands hold your legs apart, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, his nails leaving crescent marks along your supple skin. He licks across your now dripping hole slowly, wanting to savor your taste before he’s sucking on your clit again.

Not too long after he goes back to your clit, he sees you shift once more and he knows you're climax is approaching quickly. Softly gripping your thighs, he buries himself into your cunt, his soft locks tickling your thighs, his tongue making figure eights on your clit or dipping into your hole.

He brings you to your sweet release and your moans get noticeably louder, he licks and slurps everything you give him, wanting to leave nothing behind, not even his spit. He sees your eyes flutter open and smiles softly at you as he coos, "Hello, honey. I'm sorry, I just can't wait anymore, but you did a good job. Such a good job honey, just gotta give me a little more, ok?"

The sweetness of his voice only increases the throbbing of your cunt, and when you feel the tip of his cock rubbing against your hole, gathering up what's left of his spit and your cum, your hazy mind becomes clearer.

His rough hand traces the expanse of your thighs, up your hips, and to your tummy, warming your skin right down to the bone as he pushes into your tight cunt. His mouth falls open and groans slip freely from his lips, his eyes are screwed shut and he lets himself get lost in the way your tight walls wrap around his dick so nicely.

Warm, velvety, slick walls clamp around his cock and he struggles to keep his composure, remembering that not too long ago you were in a deep sleep. Instead, he opts to coo soft praises in your ear, trailing wet kisses up and down your neck to your earlobe.

He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, rubbing your hips softly and pressing kisses to your forehead, muttering to you just how sweet you are for him. Letting him use your body in the middle of the night like this, when you both should be fast asleep.

It's both too much and too little at the same time when he starts moving, feeling your walls flutter around him when he brushes against the spot that has you seeing stars. His soft groans and your moans fill the room, and the squelching sounds of your cunt get progressively louder when his pace increases.

His hands find yours and he intertwines your fingers together, holding them just above your head and caging you against the bed. His broad shoulders take up a majority of your view, but his face is where you're focused. His hair falls messily into his face, sweat beads along his forehead, and you want nothing more than to lick it off.

Breathy moans are tumbling freely from his lips, right by your ear, his muscles tense and flex each time he thrusts into your greedy cunt. Relishing in the way his dick slides so nicely in and out of your pussy, finding it nearly impossible to keep himself controlled.

Not when you were sucking him back in so wonderfully, watching as a white ring slowly formed around the base of his dick. The grip on your hips never falters and when he looks into your eyes all he sees is love. An unwavering, undeniable love. For him and him alone.

So he returns it, thrusting into your pussy and hitting the sweet spot inside of you. He makes you clench around his dick more times than he can count, loving the way you look underneath him. Sleep still lingers on your features, but the fucked out look you give him sends him into a spiral.

He feels himself getting dangerously close to his climax, his dick throbbing inside of you, ready to fill you to the brim. And when you beg so sweetly for him, asking him to fill you up, promising you won't waste a drop of his cum, who is he to deny you?

He gives you what you begged for, what you earned, filling you up to the brim and more. He pulls out and watches his cum slowly leaking out of your pussy, his panting and yours echoing in the room. Once again, he showers you in praise, holding you tightly in his arms, and when you fall asleep not too long after, clearly exhausted, he thinks to himself.

There is no one else he'd rather spend his life with. Not in this one, or the next.


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7 years ago

Falling For You

Falling For You

prompt: “You’re just so stupid!”

warnings: sexist comments, underage drinking, swearing (when do i not?)

Steve Harrington x oc; alludes to Billy Hargove x oc

a/n: this was written in response to a larger plot, so there are some references to outside events. it should still be easy enough to follow! requests are open

The last people on earth Beth thought she might publicly agree with were Carol and Tommy. Tonight, as she struggled to keep Steve upright and conscious, she couldn’t help but to concede when Carol suggested they find a way to drag him up the dock and inside before he blacked out or fell in the lake again and turned her rager into a crime scene. His wounds only worsened as he wriggled about in all three of the teenagers’ grips, as if he could somehow overpower them. Steve royally, monumentally, epically screwed up that night. 

While Beth commonly slapped a band-aid on his bruised knuckles and kept Tylenol in her purse solely for his use, she was in way over her head this time. Her babysitting training course never covered drunk, injured teenage almost-boyfriends. 

She knew things had gone from bad to worse when Carol called the party off, shooing everyone else from her lake house, for Steve’s benefit. By some miracle, the three of them managed to get him inside and relatively conscious. Carol and Tommy were quick to scatter and leave Beth to tend his wounds.

Steve groaned excessively from his makeshift bed on Carol’s pull-out couch. He protruded his bleeding lip in a haughty pout. His wet hair gave him a chill and without a dry shirt to keep him warm, he was left with only a blanket to huddle in. The worried pull in her brow looked an awful lot like anger to him, and Steve only wanted to see her smile.

“You’re mad at me!”

Beth stroked the side of his cheek, sighing:

“I’m not. Some things are just best left alone, Steve.”

“But I just wanted to protect you!”

Steve was a protector. He put himself in harm's way only as a barrier between his loved ones and danger, like he had done with the demogorgon and with the very human monster that is Billy Hargrove.

“I know,” she said.

He pulled at her hands, grasping to keep her close, milking this as much as possible. Beth let him, happy with the surge of energy his touch left her with.

When Beth suggested they go to a party thrown by his former best friends, Steve fully intended to coax her into a night at the drive-in movie theater, instead. After all, he hardly imagined a lake house was much fun in winter. However, when she showed up on his doorstep wearing white sunglasses much too large for her face and using one of his t-shirts as a bikini cover-up, Steve was putty in her hands. She had him wrapped around her finger for everyone to see- everyone, apparently, aside from Beth herself.

Not long after they arrived, Steve lost Beth in the crowd. He merely smiled and insisted she go have some fun when her two best friends cornered them. For a while, he watched contentedly with a solo cup in one hand and Beth on his mind. She danced along to every song as if it were her last. The smile she wore with every lyric she shouted alongside Amy, pulling playfully at Tiffany’s hands as the three of them danced drunkenly by the bonfire, tightened his chest.

He no longer cared much for parties. Nancy Wheeler spoiled the whole scene for Steve in a similar fashion to the way he forever stained her white blouse. House parties now equated heartbreak for Steve. Though he tried to avoid the thought, he couldn’t help but to wonder how Beth could break his heart tonight, if he wasn’t even hers. As if on cue, Steve’s train of thought received a rude interruption.

“Harrington,” the voice boomed.

Steve exhaled sharply, trying to remember the promise he made to Beth. Nothing stupid tonight. So, he kept his voice detached and prayed the message might be received:

“Hargrove.”

The Californian clasped a hand over Steve’s shoulder with more force than necessary.

He wetted his lips in an animalistic aggression. It seemed he had yet to leave well enough alone; Billy wanted revenge for the chance with the cute head cheerleader that was stolen from him. Stolen, he assumed, from Steve Harrington.

He knew Hawkins was a far cry from the golden coast before he ever set foot in the town. Still, he hardly expected to ever find himself fighting for women’s attention against a boy who couldn’t throw a punch to save his life. It was pathetic; Hawkins was pathetic. It had a saving grace, though. A glimmer of hope for Hawkins came from the smile of the girl whose hair reminded Billy of the beaches he missed so much and in her laugh, that never failed to melt the bars around Steve’s heart. If Billy had a heart, he might think about giving it to her. Instead, he took out the unchecked rage that filled that void on the boy who unmistakably captured her attention.

“I believe you have somethin’ of mine,” he paused. “I want it back.”

“What? Are you drunk? Get lost, Bill-”

The taller boy erupted into a humorless rumble of a laugh. Steve was playing with fire, though he was made of ice.

“Cut the bullshit, Harrington.”

Subconsciously, Steve flinched at that all-too-familiar word. He wished new curse words existed so he never needed to hear the words that triggered his first heartbreak again. He much preferred a sarcastic King or a straightforward asshole than any form of that word. Billy didn’t need to know this, of course, so Steve tightened his jaw and decided to play along.

“What do you want? ‘M not in the mood”

He watched with wide eyes as his foe’s lips rolled inward like an engine revving up for a drag race. Steve said the wrong thing. His eyes merely followed as the blonde curls forming his mullet nodded in the direction of the short, oblivious girl who captured Steve’s- and apparently Billy’s, as well- full attention.

“No, no way.”

“Wrong answer”

Steve sucked his gums inwards, wishing Billy would fall off the dock and into the lake. Tonight was an escape for him and Beth. Billy fit nowhere in that equation. As much as Steve’s rational mind told him otherwise, his insecurities whispered to him that Beth agreed to go on a date with Billy for more reasons than a petulant promise to Dustin. Could she possibly fall for his looks? Steve hardly considered himself insecure in that right, but he found himself wondering if he could hold a candle to boys like that in Beth’s mind.

“She’s not an object! No one owns her”

Steve gaped incredulously up at him. Eyes wide, innocent, and begging to be destroyed, Steve was Bambi and Billy was the forest fire ready to devour everything he loved.

“Well, shit,” he said. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Man, what are you even talking about?”

Billy’s fingers traced over the healing scars he put on Steve’s otherwise smooth skin, a devilish smirk on his lips. He pulled it away just as smoothly, now booming with laughter. A cigarette breath coated Steve’s face as he exhaled like a snarky dragon. Steve took an involuntary step away from him, closer to the the edge of the dock. His insecurities manifested themselves in the form of a harsh reality check from his least favorite person.

“If it weren’t for you and my bitch of a step-sister-”

“Watch it!”

“I would have been elbow-deep in that pretty little skirt of hers. Maybe we might have actually watched some of the movie we were supposed to see,” he sighed.

“You’re delusional!”

“Don’t believe me? Why don’t you ask her yourself, then.”

He chanced a glance back over at Beth, who danced freely and blissfully unaware of the unfolding conflict between the two boys. Licking his cold, nicotine lips, he flickered his gaze between the two of them.

“It’s a shame, Harrington”

Steve disdained the sinful glint in his eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he might have half a mind to punch that smirk right off his lips. Against his better judgement, he decided to humor him:

“What is?”

“Plenty of bitches in the sea certainly did not mean I was giving you free reign of the hottest piece of ass in this cow shit town-“

Like the last bit of a heavy rain season on an overflowing lake, it was the burst that snapped the dam holding back Steve’s rage. He reached his arm back with every intention of clocking Billy in the nose, even remembered to plant his feet, too, only to realize that he miscalculated his balance and stepped a little too close to the edge of the dock. All it took was the seizure and twist of his cocked wrist by Billy, and Steve’s New Balances gave way to the slippery wood and he fell down into the water below, knocking his head against the wood pretty hard in the process.

“Steve,” she called out to him.

Beth glanced warily at the weak, tired boy with her hands planted firmly on her hips. She exhaled slowly like a deflating balloon before gingerly placing herself on the edge of the coffee table.

“You said something, uh, when we got you out of the water-“

He hummed in acknowledgement. Steve’s heart skipped a beat. His mind was still hazy, either from the alcohol or the concussion that was most likely forming. He hoped she would let him play dumb a little longer.

“Did you mean it?”

“What? What did I say?”

He wasn’t a very good liar.

“C’mon Steve, don’t play dumb with me! I want to hear you say it.”

He caved, locking eyes with her. If this turned out badly, at least he had a plethora of excuses to back him up.

“I just thought, y’know, maybe you liked him. It’s just that he’s the first boy you were willing to go out with in years and, well, I want you to be happy, even if it is with… him.”

Much to his horror, she burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. Steve rubbed nervously at the back of his neck.

“What- what, uh, what’s wrong?”

“You’re just so… stupid, Steve!”

She had him there. On a scale of confused to competent, Steve was well past clueless.

“Well, yes, but-“

“Billy Hargrove is a racist, self-serving, narcissistic douchebag and I would rather die than be his girlfriend. As far as I’m concerned, he and his right hand should get very well acquainted at the rate he’s going, because that's the only thing that will even get close to him when I’m done with him. And that’s exactly what I told him”

Steve sat up a little, shocked and admittedly excited, only to shrink back from the pain in his head. Beth, who was honestly one of the most angelic girls he ever laid eyes on, had declared war on the new popular kid, which could jeopardize her own reputation in the process, and he couldn’t help but to hope it was loosely tied back to him. Either way, Steve was twitterpated with her.

“I think I love you.”

His brash comment flushed Steve’s cheek a scarlet as deep as Carol’s fingertips. As if falling in the lake weren’t mortifying enough, he’d gone and said one of the dumbest possible things to Beth. His stomach only began to plummet to the ground when she spoke back, its descent turning from a freefall into somersaults of butterflies.

“I like you, too, Steve. A whole lot. But there’s plenty of time to talk about this later- when you’re sober and a little less concussed. Right now, let’s just get some sleep, okay?”

Beth tucked him in on the couch and set aside some pain killers for when he woke up with a hangover and healing wounds. Steve refused to stay put until she cuddled up against him on the pull-out. He sighed out in a happy relief.

Steve may have gotten his ego bruised beyond recognition that night, but all he cared about was the girl who stayed to nurse his wounds. He didn’t think he deserved Beth. Beth could have gone home with Billy and let his faint-hearted attempt to let her go work, but there was one thing far more important than any of that:

She loved her stupid boy.


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