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tasiawrites · 4 months

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Aot men x black reader who is feeling a bit insecure

Cw: smut, mirror sex, recorded sex and whatever else y'all finna tell me

Connie

He found out when you were adding stuff to your cart but never asked for his card to buy them, when he asked you why you just off-handedly mentioned that you weren't pretty enough to pull it off. Incorrect.

Now you were sat on Connie's lap. His rough fingers played with your clit, while his dick rubbed against your sweet spot. “Look at the phone mama,” he whispered in your ear. You whined as you watched yourself cum on his dick. You watched as your tits bounced with each thrust. You tried to look away as the camera panned up to your face showing you what you looked like as you came all over Connie's dick. “Look mamas, look how pretty you are,” Connie said kissing your cheek as your pussy fluttered around him in both embarrassment and pure arousal. “Now put the next one on, we're not done.”

Eren

You had been at a party and overheard some people talking. Saying shit like Eren could do better than you. It hurt a little bit as you looked over to where a model-like girl was talking to him. You believed it for a second.

That didn't last long. Once you go home Eren realized something was wrong now he was fucking you an inch from insanity. “Ren I'm sorry slow down,” you whimpered pushing your hand against his hips in a futile effort to get him to stop, or slow down. It wasn't working, he kept fucking you like a man on a mission. He slapped your hand away. “Nah, this is what you get for listening to bitches shit talk,” he said angrily as he plowed through your pussy making your juices fly everywhere. “Gonna come ren… please,” you begged. He just leaned down and captured your lips in a sensual kiss as you came all over him. He slowed down with his forehead against yours. He looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky. “you know I love you right?” You nodded in affirmation. Eren smiled, “Good, now turn around and catch this nut, ion wanna hear any of that shit again.” He said slapping your ass as an indication for you to put your face down and ass up.

Armin

You had taken too long to come and watch a movie with him. He found you standing in front of the mirror looking at yourself with a look in your eye he didn't like. At all.

Your thighs quivered as Armin stopped again. “C’mon princess, keep going or I'll stop again,” he whispered against your pussy. His blue eyes looking into your brown ones. You looked away in embarrassment as the sight of his face covered in a mess you made in this situation was a bit much. “I- I'm pretty,” your voice cracked into a moan as you felt him dive back in eating you out slow and sweet. “I'm smart,” you said again trying not to cover your face in embarrassment. Armin making you affirm yourself was embarrassing enough, but if you stopped or said anything he didn't think was good enough he would stop. “I'm p-perfect,” your thighs clenched around his head as he sucked on your clit gently. “Min, m gonna come,” you begged trying to both push him away and pull him closer. He just hummed as he looked up at you through your legs. You came with a loud moan. He pulled away and brought his face close to yours. “you're sexy,” he said, pressing a kiss on your lips. “Think you have one more for me princess?” He asked rubbing his tip against your folds.

Onyakapon

His girl? Insecure? No, not possible.

“Onya, please,” you begged, closing your eyes. “none of that,” he growled in your ear. “You're gonna be a good girl and watch me fuck my pussy and watch yourself cum on your dick,” he pressed a kiss on your temple. “Fuck you talkin' bout you ain't fine,” he kissed his teeth in annoyance as he held your face forcing you to watch yourself bounce on his dick. You watched as your pussy creamed all over him messily. Your eyes followed it down his balls and watched it drip to the floor. He tapped your face making your eyes flutter back upward. You met your eyes in the mirror. You took in how utterly fucked you looked. There was drool slipping down the side of your face, your eyes were lidded and teary, even your hair was fucked up. You closed your eyes and tried to hide your face in Onyakapon's neck. That wasn't sliding and your eyes shot wide open as he lay a slap on your clit. “Eyes in the mirror baby, ion wanna see you do that again,” he tsked fucking you harder. “Onya, gonna cum,” you cried, your nails digging into his arm as he began to play with your clit while somehow bouncing you harder on his dick. Your thighs shook as you came, squirting all over the mirror. “That's it cum for me pretty girl,” he kissed your cheek, licking off the tears that escaped your eyes.

#aot x black reader #onyakapon x black reader #armin x black reader #eren x black reader #connie x black reader #black reader smut #aot smut

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cowgirlcherrie · 9 months

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☆ WISHFUL THINKING. loser! sbf! ellie williams headcanons

♪ 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠…wishful thinking by benee

a/n: here are just some quick head-canons of loser ellie, ellie is best friends with the readers sister, basically like bbf! ellie but girls girl coded dynamic.

warnings/content: 18+ MDNI. a nsfw section. breeding kink. switch!ellie. kissing. petname usage. ellie is so loser…LOL but it intertwines with canon ellie. cursing. dirty talking. finger sucking. edging. mostly toothrotting fluff for the first section

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

౨ৎ loser! Ellie owns an obscure amount of graphic tees with silly slogans on them:

“I ♡ HOT MOMS” or “I ♡ MILFS” or “BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN”

** I can’t find the post but one of my mutuals had an exact post of how she would dress…adam sandler core fr

When she gets complimented on them, she does not know how to take a compliment. When you found one of the slogans funny, your hands delicately intertwined with the fabric of her shirt as you tugged the fabric — with your phone hovering over the bolded text to take a picture – Ellie was sweating bullets beneath your touch.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie dismissed you the first time that the two of you met; she moved like a shadow whenever you were around; if you were talking in the kitchen, she would completely walk out of the room and just avoid the area. At first, you thought Ellie stopped coming around and being friends with your sister until you actively caught her turning on her heels and just heads in another direction.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie goes to your college and is a year above you but you didn’t know she was going to JSU (Jackson state university) because you thought she was planning on community, so it was a shocker to see her around campus because she actually would say hi to you or sit and chat if she wasn’t with Dina or Jesse.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie is obsessed with Jurassic Park and owns all of the DVD collections. She even has posters up on the wall that is stills from the movie and ones she was able to find with a deep dive online *cough* Reddit *cough* Facebook marketplace *cough*

Frequently she tried to get your sister into it who gets sick of her asking– but kept on nagging at Ellie to ask you instead, and with many dab pen hits and a quick pep talk in the bathroom, Ellie built up enough courage to ask you to watch it with her.

The two of you bonded over having crushes on Ellie Sattler which was the first time that Ellie realized that you liked girls and she might have a shot with you.

“It’s even better to watch when you’re high because the dinosaurs are all like-…woahh”

౨ৎ loser! Ellie enjoys it’s always sunny in Philadelphia and parks and recreation, and would definitely enjoy emergency intercom or just podcast-y youtube channels

౨ৎ loser! Ellie sucks at eye contact, whenever you start talking to her she rubs at the back of her neck, and looks at her feet, twirling the necklace that’s tucked closely to her skin and her shirt. She just doesn’t stop fidgeting. Her face gets all red but she plays it off that Joel kept on turning the heater on when there was no need for it.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie wears flat-brim vintage hats, especially some with corduroy fabric, and apart from her standard arm tattoo gets silly patchwork ones, like one of a drawing she did for Joel. Has a lot of rings and especially enjoys the spinny ones.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie who collects Savage Starlight comics, as always, is surprised when you tell her you found some copies in the bookstore that was actually going to get thrown away but you bargained with the owner to buy the barrel of the books because you knew she would like to have them. She gets all flustered when she realizes that you were thinking of her and it brings the craziest smile to her fast that you took enough time to remember such minuscule detail about her.

“Do you– uh- do you want me to pay you back?”

౨ৎ loser! Ellie wakes up late all the time when she sleeps over at your house like I’m talking 11-12:30 pm and will walk around the house with messy hair, a large t-shirt and boxers, and dry drool patch on her mouth and down her cheek until she realizes she had been watched for the past few minutes by you who was scared shitless because you didn’t even she spent the night.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie in traditional Ellie fashion uses cursing as a coping mechanism when she gets nervous and doesn’t know what to say:

“I don’t fuckin’ know ask your sister”

“That’s fuckin cute… I guess”

“Oh – Fuck you!”

౨ৎ when your sister started this thing every two weeks where there is a girl’s night, she’d invite Ellie over for a sleepover and the sleepless night would be full of gossip, painting each other’s nails, drinking cheap wine that Ellie got from the gas station down the way — primarily a self-care night, it takes a lot of convincing to get Ellie to join in but once she does, she regrets it slightly. However, she tolerates it because she can use it as an excuse just to see you and learn about what is up with your life or if you started seeing anyone.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie who bitches and cries when she has a facemask on, and is hissing and spewing curses under her breath every few minutes, with a fluffy headband on that is pushing her auburn hair back, begging you to take it off; meanwhile, you are applying a clear coat on her nails because she would complain about any other color but she keeps tensing up.

“Ow! What the fuck is in this…it hurts, take it off! Take it off!”

౨ৎ loser! Ellie when the summertime rolled around, meant she would be spending way more time with you and your sister – eventually, your sister goes to the locksmith and get Ellie her own key. Ellie will be indulging in pool days with you which is a recipe for disaster

She is tripping all over the place, and terribly applied sunscreen on her face which cast a slight ghostly white cast on her face, adding to how stunned she was to see you in a swimsuit, but she couldn’t look away and caught herself wandering her eyes to places she probably shouldn’t have.

Underwater kiss! Underwater kiss!

But she tries to play it off and acts like it never even happened the next day. But when Ellie closed her eyes all she could feel was your wet lips on hers, as the two of you were grabbing at each other and the way for a second time slowed down and all she could feel was the movement of the water and your hands on her skin.

When she applied sunscreen wrong and asks you to fix it for her, gets so embarrassed as you rub your hands over her face to moisturize the sunscreen into her face, but every time she opens her eyes she just sees the view of your boobs in the bikini you are wearing and just squeezes her eyes shut. Visibly pretends to bite her fist when you’re done

౨ৎ loser! Ellie 100% asking strangers on Reddit how to confess for you with crazy ass headlines,

F(22) IN LOVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND'S SISTER F(21) ADVICE? If a girl’s arm lingers on you for too long does it mean she likes you? (F) Good pick-up lines that aren’t cringy for gays only…please How much does astrology and birth chart compatibility really matter?

౨ৎ loser! Ellie splits her sandwiches with you and gives you a jacket when you are cold because even though she asks you a million times and you said no each time she asked. She still brings a jacket just for you — and how she would scold you for not bringing one. (all out of love though)

“You fucker! I knew you would be cold, see this is why I said to bring a jacket”

Pretends to be angry but really she was waiting for this moment.

Eventually, you build a collection, having 3 of Ellie’s jackets in your room, which was Ellie’s subtle excuse to be able to talk to you.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie doesn’t hesitate to pick you up from an on-campus party, and her heart shatters when you are crying because you had a shitty night and you don’t want her to tell your sister. Takes you to whatever fast food is open at that hour even if that means she’d have to drive 30 minutes extra just to make you smile.

“Shh…sweetheart terrible nights happen it’s okay”

“Are you hungry?…cuz’ like I’m fuckin hungry” Ellie whispers amidst a thick awkward silence, mentally cringing and wanting to bang her head on the steering wheel as she grips the wheel until her knuckles turn white.

Suddenly becomes good with comforting people when it comes to you, but anyone else – the spinny wheel of death appears above her head as she struggles to formulate a good sentence.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie who hates when you bring up anyone you start talking to or that you are going out with, will sit there with her fist tight and jaw clenched whispering to you:

“There are people who can treat you way better”

And by people she really means herself.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie who set off the fire alarm once by accident because she was hotboxing in her room with Jesse and Dina and almost got a dean’s office summons and tried to blame it on the neighbors next door.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie when Ellie tells your sister that she likes you, your sister makes the most disgusted face at her, but becomes Ellie’s wing-woman and kinda tells Ellie all of your likes and dislikes, which Ellie has a whole page in her journal with facts about you.

“can I have your blessing to uh…date your um, fuck sorry your sister?”

“ellie please shut up I’m gonna throw up”

౨ৎ loser! Ellie has pictures of michael cera as her icons on every form of social media.

౨ৎ loser! Ellie gets flustered easily over indirect kisses, like sharing food or sharing drinks, and suddenly she becomes so hyperaware.

nsfw 𖦹⋆彡🫧꩜♪⋆

౨ৎ When Ellie started having more than just friendly feelings for you…her whole demeanor changed, the tension was so thick it could cut with a sharp knife. Subtle touches suddenly had more meaning and her body felt like someone lit a match with gasoline dripping from her body and set her aflame.

౨ৎ after an accidental confession that leads to the two of you dating, lewd thoughts from the shadow of her brain came after and she couldn’t control it — initially was too embarrassed to tell you and had nights where she would just walk to the bathroom and try her best to get off in the shower but it only got her so far before it wasn’t helping or doing enough and at this point she needed to actually touch you

౨ৎ That time she slept over and was sleeping on your couch, hoodie on her body with the hood up covering her face, blankets falling off of her body giving a full view of her sleep boxer shorts. When you walked by to go grab a drink of water around 3 am you could hear her moaning your name in your sleep.

౨ৎ is one of those people who seem bashful, sparky, and innocent throughout the day but in the sheets is the biggest freak ever, she becomes another level of unholy.

౨ৎ a breeding kink! Definitely owns one of the squirting dildos because she loves to watch the way liquids drip out of you when she’s done, will sit back pulling at your folds with her fingers with the shit-eating grin on her face that reads I did that

“Look at you~” “all fucked out for me” Ellie speaks coly and in between breaths as her head reaches down to put kisses all over your face.

౨ৎ Ellie likes to see how much she can get away with, smacks your ass, pulls you back by your belt loop, sticks her hand way too far up your thigh, moans high pitched in your ear during public settings

౨ৎ falls asleep with her hand on your boobs, god forbid she’s having a nightmare, she starts squeezing them in the midst of it.

౨ৎ makes dick jokes talking about some:

“My pullout game is not weak thank you very much, if that was the case we would have had a lot of children already”

When listening to rap music that goes into heavy description about fucking humps the air sometimes to the lyrics...not elaborating she's hella immature LOL

౨ৎ The minute the two of you go out and one of your friends says how she is a simp and how you have all the control in the situation, Ellie will make sure you know that she indefinitely has the upper hand. It’s like a switch flips in her head she gets so ruthless and so mean, she doesn’t want you to forget it either and fucks you until you can’t think

You will be moaning and clawing at her back as she pounds in a rhythmic motion in and out of you, her mouth would get so filthy, smirking as her fingers rub over your lips as she slips her thumb in for you to suck,

“but …do your friends know that you cry like this under me? that you look so pathetic under me?”

“Who’s in charge again cuz’ I fuckin’ know it’s not you”

“Are you cumming? Oh no you don’t…let me see you” “What if I just stopped right now?”

Likes to edge you, no doubt.

౨ৎ a switch likes to be topped or touched but also likes to be the top

౨ৎ whimpers whenever you touch her like a puppy, her eyes get glassy and her face gets red as she lets out low mewls of your name, and suddenly it’s like you’re an angel hovering over her and your touch is an addictive drug that she never wants to stop having.

౨ৎ Overall just the best girlfriend ever, with a combination of silliness and fun in one, a big ol’ dork that is really just obsessed with you.

taglist

@beforeimdeceased @starologist @destielcore @luvrgalore @ellsss @zahraaziza @emluvselandabs @abbyily @elliestrwbrry @mossc0vered @spacewlf @as2rid @spaceshipellie @lottiematthewsceo @emonopolyman @mikasbby @trulygnomed @machetegirl109 @munsonsfairy

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grimesgirll · 3 months

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the first thing rick wakes up to is you telling him you want to be double stuffed.

he’s just opening his eyes and you’re straddling him, whispering, “now is the perfect time. we never have this much alone time,” into his ear as you work your mouth up and down his neck.

his dick is already twitching in his boxers at the sight of you, all needy on top of him. your hair is down and disheveled from sleep and your activities just a few hours before.

and who can stay soft when you’re begging to be double stuffed first thing in the morning.

“sweetheart, are you sure you know what you’re talkin’ bout?”

you shake your head yes at him. “yes, i want you and daryl to double stuff my pussy.”

rick wonders if this is a stepping stone to them fucking your ass.

“you sure you want this, baby?” he asks, looking to you. you liked it rough but both of their cocks in your tiny pussy was a lot to figure out.

“mhmm.” you confirm. “i know it’s gonna feel so good - the stretch.”

you must be fucked out from the night before still to want them both inside of you this early.

“well, let’s ask daryl,” rick tells you and you lean over slightly off of rick to tap on daryl’s chest lightly. you even bestow him with a kiss as his eyes flutter open.

“hey, sleeping beauty,” you greet softly, watching as his blue eyes blink open. “wanna double stuff my pussy with rick before everyone wakes up?”

it’s like you can feel his cock shooting through his pants when all of the sudden you’re on your back next to rick and daryl is prying your pajama shorts off. “of course, i wanna double stuff this pussy,” daryl moans as he nearly rips off your panties. “gotta get you ready for two cocks first.”

“yeah i’m kinda worried about you fitting,” you turn to rick on the pillow beside you.

“don’t worry, we’ll make it fit,” rick promises. he takes your chin in his hand and brings your lips together, slipping his tongue into your mouth while daryl dips a finger into your heat. your legs buck at the intrusion and even more when daryl works another finger into you.

“baby, if you’re squirmin’ on my fingers like this right now, i can’t imagine how you’re gonna feel on top of both ‘a us.”

you pout at his words. “don’t make me change my mind.”

“just sayin’.”

rick rolls his eyes, before looking down to your glistening cunt. you follow his gaze before getting an idea. “daryl,” you chirp.

“yeah,” he doesn’t stop his fingers or break eye contact as you open your mouth to speak.

“i wanna give you a blowjob while rick eats me out. is that okay?”

rick huffs. daryl isn’t usually the one you ask for permission.

he doesn’t say no of course and suddenly he and rick are swapping places so the ex-cop can spread your legs open and plant a finger inside of you. your mouth opens almost as if on cue for daryl as rick’s tongue makes contact with your lower lips.

meanwhile, daryl’s cock breaches your lips. you open your mouth wider in an “o” shape, reacting to how rick’s fingers curl inside of you. he picks up the pace as you moan around daryl, slowly working more of his length into your mouth. he hisses at the feeling of his cock being surrounded by your warm, willing mouth. this encourages you to start bobbing your head up and down faster, making sure to punctuate every satisfying twist of rick’s sturdy fingers inside of you with a moan around the archer’s length.

daryl almost cums down your throat at the sight of you looking up at him. doe eyed and aching to be double stuffed, you had one thing on your mind - or two, to be precise.

he’s still surprised that you were the one to bring up them both filling your pussy. being stuffed with one of their cocks in your mouth and one inside of you was exciting enough to get you grinding on their laps. this would rock your world.

rick is already eliciting all kinds of scandalous noises from you as he dives nose deep into your soaked pussy. just the idea of being completely full of rick and daryl set a fire in your core. a fire that rick tries to put out with his tongue, even holding your legs down as you start to buck up into his face, barely keeping in position with daryl nearly down your throat now.

you know you’re a goner when the sheriff reaches forward to clutch at your breast while sucking down on your most sensitive bundle of nerves. you wince like you stubbed your toe but in fact you’re barely holding your (first) orgasm from breaking through.

“rick,” the sound comes out garbled around daryl’s dick.

“gotta’ get ya’ nice and ready, sweetheart.” with that, his tongue drags torturously across your clit.

you’re almost pulling off of daryl with how rick is lapping up your pussy. you loved both of their mouths on you but there’s something about rick and how smug he is between your legs that has you humming again, the sound vibrating around your boyfriend’s dick and sending those familiar pleasure signals to the brain. you don’t complain as he tugs your head further into him; a quick gag stops you in your tracks for a moment before you relax your throat again and swallow.

feeling daryl grow painfully hard in your mouth, you let his glossy cock fall out of your mouth and take a moment just to enjoy the man between your legs. he understands and is happy to give you a moment to breathe before they stretch you to the limit. he tucks a strand of hair from your blushed out face. pale lips find your breasts again and a tongue swirls around your areola, helping to scoop your hardened bud into a warm mouth.

with both of your boys on you, mouths repaying you for every kiss, every time they stuck a tongue or a cock your throat, you can't help but come undone on rick's lips. your leader is more than ready to lick you clean, flattening his tongue against you.

rick's chocolate curls are in your hands when he starts on your poor, pulsing pussy again. without a break to collect your thoughts between orgasms - not that you had many aside from coming undone with both of them inside you - you whine into daryl's shoulder. "its so much." you pant into the man beside you, "so sensitive, daryl."

"already?" rick questions, lips covered from when you came on his face.

you nod, and mewl into daryl when he bites down on a tit.

"how're you gonna handle two, honey?" rick is eager to know your plan.

"how do you want me to handle it?" you challenge through labored breaths as they both work you towards an overload again.

rick chuckles. he speeds up enough for you to start bucking into him again, gripping the back of your head. daryl helps him out when his teeth travel up your neck to bite at your pulse. you yelp and drops you arms, giving rick the opportunity to pin them down, handsfree and filling every corner of his mouth with you.

you groan and gasp in his arms, nowhere to run from the inevitable waves that wash over you as your orgasm hits you like tidal force. "rick!" you're squealing so loud that daryl leans over to shut you up with an open mouthed kiss. you take it; kissing back with a passion while you rock your hips into rick's mouth.

the older man comes up for air after he's made sure your pussy's thoroughly saturated, and already needy again; this time for both of them.

blissfully unaware, you're barely comprehending the looks rick and daryl are giving each other. articulate plans made from a shared gaze at you, a grunt, and some words from rick have the man sitting up next to you steal a kiss from you too and ask, “think you’re ready, honey?”

you grin at him. rick's thumbing your lip while he studies your face until you nod your head an enthusiastic yes still trying to catch your breath. he watches as your chest heaves, leaving kisses and bruising hot marks on your torso while the bed squeaks with daryl's absence.

rick lays back on the bed, patting your lap for you to straddle him. he pulls you down onto him by your hips, easy work after he and daryl put in the time to prep you for them. you're always dripping but this morning, rick thinks this is the wettest you've ever been and they haven't even given you what you asked for yet.

daryl palms his hard on at the edge of the bed. "think y'all are gonna wanna be as close together as possible for this," he advises.

"bend down more, sweetheart," rick instructs and you do so, folding into him until your chests were plush together. "good girl," he punctuates with a kiss on your neck.

behind you, you feel the bed dip slightly. you tense but relax when rick's mouth finds your shoulder, distracting you with pecks as daryl bullies a finger into your already crammed hole. rick pauses his ministrations to clench his jaw. you wiggle slightly, earning a noise or two from rick.

"you like this?" daryl's voice breaks you out of the tension started to build in your core again.

you nod your head, almost too enthusiastically. "want more!" you request with a grind of your hips.

daryl chuckles. "it's coming," he adds another finger.

"fuck, daryl," rick huffs, face glistening with sweat and a rose color started to creep into his cheeks.

"daryl, wanna feel you," you agree with rick and rotate your hips again until both of them are sighing.

rick's muscles are tensing under you and he's bucking into you when you feel daryl's lips on your neck for the first time in a few minutes. "so, tight." he mumbles in your ear.

he's so close that you arch into his touch until he's ushering you back down with a palm against your back. "don't wanna us all to slip out, baby," he tells you and that's when you realize that he's replaced his fingers with his cock.

“i think you can move more now.” you tell daryl as your breath picks up.

he takes the opportunity to heed your words, beginning a slow, pounding pace. "you want me to go faster already?"

"i wanna come on both of your cocks," you clarify, core starting to turn to molten lava as you wanted to be even more full of your two favorite men.

"little slut," rick exhales at your words.

"don't you like being in me at my tightest?" you whisper as you lower down to his ear.

"this how you pictured it?" rick grins at you lazily when you nod. "wanna get fucked like this all the time?"

"mhmmm!"

"such a good girl," he muses.

"the best," daryl croaks, snapping his hips to push you closer to the edge.

your head is buried in rick's shoulder when you feel the heat from your core start to ravage your entire lower body. "so, full," you utter as the reality that you're being stretched to your limit hits you. you had not one, but two dicks inside of you, one absolutely ruining you with his ravenous rhythm.

daryl squeezes at your ass, massaging the flesh further once he hears you whining his name. it feels like out of nowhere that a hand comes down and smacks your ass, sending a signal straight to your pussy.

you nearly purr and babble into rick's shoulder. "feel you tensin', darlin'," rick notes. you murmur in agreement, barely computing now aside from how overwhelmed you were by the liquid fire consuming your loins.

the two of them can't make out a word you're saying and you're pressed completely into rick's clavicle when you squeak and gush. your swear you black out for a split second as the delicious pressure overtakes you - the feeling of convulsing around two cocks has you almost screaming, biting rick's shoulder, ass angling towards daryl.

for once your legs aren't numb but definitely not usable at that moment and you feel like the embodiment of a puddle. they haven't even spilled inside of you yet and you're shuddering between them through the aftershocks of your climax.

it takes you a moment to realize that they've both stopped; rick isn't kissing or biting up and down your shoulder, and daryl is barely thrusting into you.

as the heat builds up again you get annoyed. "guys!" you whimper. "stop staring and do it again!"

#the walking dead #twd imagine #rick grimes imagine #daryl dixon x reader #rick grimes x reader #rick x reader #daryl dixon imagine #rickyl #rickyl x reader #rick grimes smut #daryl dixon smut #twd smut #f/m/m #dvp #still getting the hang of writing smut #easiest dvp to ever happen #grimesgirll

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divinehedons · 1 year

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you're losing me.

navigation: how reader broke her ankle

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: ~4.2k words

summary: at one point, you think you've found something with joel. a moment of peace, a fragment of joy. now, you're not so sure.

warnings: this is an explicit fic, minors DO NOT INTERACT! hurt/comfort fic, LOTS of angst i'msosorry, implied age gap (somewhat mentioned here and there), a play on the miscommunication trope with an uncommunicative joel, angsty make up sex, explicit p-in-v sex, oral sex (f receiving), anal sex, aftercare, occurs somewhere after the events of season 1.

a/n: i'm incredibly thankful for all the love this fledgeling little hedonist got from such a community. thank you so so much for reading!

likes, comments, and reblogs much appreciated! please let me know if you have any requests, just shoot an ask and i'm certain to see it!

Life, as you imagined it in the days that came after, was much simpler before you and Joel arrived in Jackson. It was a description you settled on, long after you’ve combed through your mind’s vocabulary, through the haze and vertigo of heartbreak. Easier was simply a lie. Nothing was nice nor easy in those autocracies from the QZs. When you look back to those days, painted only in broad strokes of inhumane bloodshed and secret dealings in the dark, he remains, nevertheless, at the center of the shell of empires you had once deemed eternal. Your gruff, quiet Joel, with bloodstained fists and sharp eyes, always strong to rage battle with the days and emerge victorious.

Perhaps life was easier pre-Jackson because you and Joel never truly defined what you had back then. You lived next door to him. You suggested he hid his contraband with you because, God, why would they ever search there? You still try and figure out when the fucking started. When you stopped sleeping in your bed and started waking up in his. Whenever it was, shortly thereafter, you followed him in his dealings, tried to look for some damn car battery that seemed to excite him so much.

You remember waking up at dawn one morning, drenched in sweat as the shadows receded in your mind, his hand on your shoulder as his eyes searched yours. You don’t remember the nightmare, you remember the panic in his eyes. “You good, darlin’?” You’d nod and watch him open a window. It was autumn, you remembered, and the breeze cooled your burning skin.

“Who’s the guy I’m meeting today?” you tried to ask, sitting up in his bed and watching the way his eyes seemed to look at anywhere but you. You tried to ignore the subtle way his brows furrowed, the grinding of his jaw. “Talk me over the plan again.” When he returned to you, his hands pull you down by your legs, spreading you wide open as his mouth kisses the questions out of your mouth.

“We’re not talkin’ ‘bout business when I can still have you for a few hours, sweetheart.”

So he’d take you, with your neck stinging from razor burn, legs thrown over his shoulders, his shirt which you wore pushed up while he bites your nipples as his hard cock dives into you in one languid thrust, moans reverberating from the both of you at the feeling.

When Joel fucks, he does so with the candour of a greedy child in a candy shoppe. He takes whatever he can get. You still remember the aftermath of when he first fucked you, one that broke a few years of celibacy, according to the man himself. You remembered the teeth marks, the broken skin, burst capillaries, and fingerprints imprinted wherever he felt the need to. He had been bashful, then, muttering about how he didn’t mean to be so rough. You remembered laughing and pressing his fingers to your aching cunt, smiling at him. You were still wet. He hardens there and then.

Even when you were neck deep in each other’s affections, he never quite lost that eagerness. You remembered that morning because you remember gushing against his cock. You remembered it because it was the morning you realised it was never like this with anyone else. Actually, you realised as his hips stutter and the familiar warmth of his spend fills you, since Joel, there had never been anyone else.

Perhaps everything was simpler then, when you look back at it. You’d fuck, wash up, go do your jobs for some rations. Sometimes he’d nod at you from across the street, and you wouldn’t see him again until he knocks on your door at night, taking you by the hand and pulling you into the night. You always stood in his corner, kicking and punching with so much vigor that he’d chuckle and mutter something about the “youth, nowadays”. He’d wash the blood from your hands, wrap you up in bandages, and tell you to not be so reckless next time. You never really listened.

Sometimes, when an exchange ends early, he’ll take you to some empty building, tell you about some renovation of one decade or another. You’d laugh and climb over him, chasing to get a taste of his cock in your mouth. You never addressed the elephant in the room, never asked what you meant to him.

It was the unspoken rule, however, that there was never going to be anything that came between the two of you. By hell or high water. He walked you home every night you did your business, even if he still had things to do. He never forgot to hand you a share of meat whenever it came his way, sometimes finding you wherever you were stationed that day just to slip it in your hands without speaking.

It was the same rule that prevailed when he woke you one night, telling you he’s leaving. You packed a bag, shook hands with the kid he was with, and followed.

No questions asked. Through hell and high water.

–

Somewhere between those days and arriving in Jackson, he does start talking more. You learn about Sarah, the worries he tries not to tell anyone, the pain in his bones.

In easy silences while the kid slept and vulnerability left you both awake, isolation made you complacent, vulnerable. It made you believe something good still existed in this world. It made you believe you and Joel could survive unscathed from the same love that had burnt others.

“Stay with me,” he whispers in the cradle of darkness, hand on the trigger as he watches you pace back and forth, trying to tire yourself enough. You look at him, blinking momentarily as you try to comprehend as to whether or not you imagined the words from his mouth. “When we get out of here–if we get out of here–promise me you’ll stay with me.”

Of course you will. That was how you ended up in Jackson, too.

Looking back, when you try and trace everything back to a singular point in space and time when the end of all things began, it began when you stand in stunned silence, watching what seemed to be a sanctuary in the midst of mortal damnation. Laughing children, playing, men lifting, hammering, building. People chattering in the street. The tipping point, however, was none of that. The tipping point was Joel recognising his brother from the crowd and embracing him with a smile you had never seen on your face before.

For a moment, you feel guilt— you knew how long Joel had wanted to see Tommy. You knew, too, that this had been everything he had worked towards for. It warms you, to finally know Joel was still human, after all. At least for a moment. Then the uncomfortable thoughts trickle in.

Perhaps, you thought once in a microsecond, perhaps you just weren't enough for him to be that open with you.

Just like that, the isolated bubble from which you had adored, and perhaps (definitely) even loved Joel, dissolves, leaving you exposed, vulnerable, and somewhat alone in a sea of people. You supposed Ellie felt it too, from the way she held on to your arm, worrying you’ll disappear too.

“I’m here, kid,” you murmur as you pretend not to see. “You’re all good.”

Even when your little group left and came back from the Fireflies, even when Joel pulls you out of a burning building and kills men for you, you can’t shake off the feeling. Can’t shake the knowledge that you weren’t as important to him. Not even a little, not even at all. You swallow it whenever he pushes aside your underwear and lets you take his fingers. You ignore that itching feeling when you take him for yourself, seating yourself on his lap and fucking him needingly, kissing him as if his lips were everything you needed, chasing your orgasms with the same greed you had in those early days.

Sometimes, you couldn’t stop it.

“Tell me you want me, Joel,” you whisper, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, pulling, teeth gnashing.

“‘Course I fuckin’ want you, peach. This fuckin’ cunt is all mine.” He’d flip you over, lay you on your stomach, fucking up into you as your back arches and your eyes roll back in the sweet symphony of skin on skin on skin. “No one else knows how to even make you feel as good as I do.” His fingers would reach down. Thumb and forefinger. Pinching your clit until a squeal escapes you.

“Yours, Joel.” Your gasps, his grunts, the fleeting ache in your chest as these moments become less frequent, turning few and far in between. “Yours, yours, yours.”

–

It all comes to a head one evening, over some stupid argument. Even now, when all is said and done, you can’t seem to remember the trigger that set things off. When you think of that night, only a fragment of the conversation comes to mind.

“The truth is, Joel, I just don’t know what we are,” you had been saying, separating from him like shrapnel. “I used to stupidly think that maybe you wanted me to stay because you were working up some fucking courage to do something about us.” He looks at you wide-eyed, pupils blown. You could hear his thoughts from that distance. Where was all this coming from?

“It never mattered t’you before,” he muttered, leaning against the wooden table as his eyes bore down on you. A beat drops, and he is striding towards you, taking your shoulders in his gruff hands as his tired gaze met yours. ”I don’t understand, why the fuck are you tellin’ me this now?”

I know you don’t. I never asked you to.

For a moment, you struggled in his arms. The feeling of his fingers against your skin was too much. It felt too close, too intimate, too little, and nothing all at once. You whine, trying to avoid his gaze and control your tongue before it is you who eventually did ruin things.

Just tell me. What’s in that head of yours?

“Because you never touch me anymore!” Your small fists, his broad chest, hitting what you could as you finally sob and tear yourself away from me. “I’m glad for you, I really am. But you barely even look at me anymore!” When you did free yourself, your feet take you backwards by a few steps, just enough to see the quirk of his lips at your confession. “But God, it makes me feel so fucking small- like I’ve turned into some nagging bitch, the shrew at home.” You hiccup once, twice. You see him about to speak and you jump in again. “It’s like you found your life and I never had a place in it, so you forgot me.”

The last confession lay on your lips, escaping before you could stop it. “Like I was never enough for you, Joel.”

Your back hits the wall as you look him in the eye, eyes blurred from the onslaught of tears that finally stop you. “I have always stood by your side, I’ve followed you blindly across this fucking wasteland. I never asked for anything, never wanted anything but you, and yet…” You wait for Joel. As you always have. You wait for him to say something. Anything that might finally end your misery. When he doesn’t, you wait for him to do something.

You sigh. “I… I lo-”

“I’ve had enough of this,” he finally says, catching you off-guard as he moves away, grabbing his coat as he shakes his head. “Tommy’s waiting for me.” With that, he leaves. The pit in your stomach swallows you whole, remaining there, in the strange hallways of your memory, as the moment you finally understood the misery that walked hand in hand with love.

–

That was how you ended up with the singular backpack of your things, moving across all of Jackson and putting the entire commune between the two of you, and moving into the small apartment near the shops. You know the jobs he works, asked (almost begged, actually) for Maria to keep her as far away from him as remotely possible. And you did so before he returned from patrolling– some two day affair beyond the gates.

The first night proved impossible. In the darkness, you heard the arms of your watch ticking by as time moves ever so slowly. Without noticing it, you counted the minutes before he and Tommy should be back. You tried not to wonder if he ever thought of you on jobs like this. When all there is to kill is time. Did he ever touch himself in the darkness? Did he ever think of you touching yourself wherever you lay, too?

Then you remember his dining room. “I’ve had enough of this.” No. You know he wasn’t thinking of you.

You fuck yourself with your fingers until your wrist aches from the effort; and still yet, nothing. You cannot reach the places he does. Your hands too soft to mimic the sensation of his calloused fingers forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you. The sleep that comes, therefore, is uneasy,

You dream of him, lying beside you in the bed you shared back in the QZ, his gruff hum signalling he was awake. “You’re not happy, are you?” he whispers, and you look to him, hands reaching in the darkness.

“Of course not,” you whisper. "I’m in love with you and you don’t even want to see me.”

–

Joel sees the empty house first before he heard the news. It is only in your absence that he finally understood how empty his home was without you.

Without the books on the coffee table. Without the flowers you picked yourself. The bathroom felt barren without your little luxuries– the lotion you had found back on the road, the smell of your shampoo long evaporated from the room. His bed, most of all, felt inhuman without the shape of your frame imprinted on it.

Ellie rushed in when he stood in the living room, looking over in silence. “What the fuck happened, man? I tried to stop her but she was crying, all over the place. I don’t even fucking know how she left the place so pristine the way she was running around-”

“Where is she, kid?”

–

When he finally does see you, you look far worse off than he is. The apartment Maria pointed him to is nice, it’s warm. Bright, even. As if anywhere you go turns into a sanctuary. You’re reading when he sees you. With your back turned to him, you roll your shoulders in a way that tells him you slept wrong. If you even slept at all. The slight tilt in your gait tells him you overworked yourself and your ankle is giving you hell for it.

He leans against the doorway until eventually, he finds the strength to speak. “So you don’t even say goodbye? Some people would think it’s just good manners.” You turn around just enough for him to see the swooping shades of exhaustion beneath your eyes, tinged by the reddening of your nose, your sore eyes. You had just been crying. He could tell, even when no traces of tears are left on your skin.

Now, he waits for you. Attempts to weed out the silence as if it could tell him something.

“Ellie said you cleaned up. Thanks for that, darlin’.” He sighs, moving closer in an attempt to bridge the gap between the two of you. He doesn’t notice the way you tense, the way you prepare yourself to flee. “I found somethin’ for you, It’s out-”

“Just stop it, Joel.” He looks to you, sees the way the tears bead in your eyes before you look away, rising from your seat as you allow a shaky breath. “You said you had enough and I’m- I wanted to respect that.” He tries to hold you and your arms fly out, pushing him away before he gets too close, shaking your head. “But I can’t do it when you’re always around.”

He calls your name, and it stops you in your tracks. He says it again, and you realize why. He says your name with so much emotion, the teeth-gritting ferocity of the riptide. “It was never you that I had enough of. I can never have enough of you-” When you look at him, his brows furrow, eyes soften, reaching for you, hands on your wrists as he slowly brings you toward him. He calls your name, and for a moment, you feel as you did back in the old days of the small rooms in the QZ. You remember the whistling of the wind between the window shutters, white noise that soothed you to sleep.

His confession comes spilling forth in an uncontrollable gush. “I never wanted to make you go, peach,’ he murmurs, almost incomprehensible, rough hands pulling you against his chest as he finally breathes in that familiar scent of your hair. He smells of snow and pine–the same smell of the soap you bought for him last week. “I don’t know how to do this… to feel–” His thumbs cup your cheek as your gaze returns to his own tear-filled face. “Losing you is like cutting my fingers off, sweetheart, I can’t bear it.”

He kisses you, and you feel the desperation of a man starved. He doesn’t stop, does not want to stop. If this was a dream, he thinks, he’d rather consume you than wake up somewhere without the warmth of your skin on his. You kiss him, too, and it’s nothing like what you had before. When you kiss him in that quiet little apartment, it’s wanton, messy, your tears melting into his own, your whines swallowed and consumed before you can even actuate them. You only break apart when you feel his lips move to your cheek, his beard rubbing against you as you sniffle and tug him closer by the loops of his belt.

Joel continues to speak. In disjointed whispers, murmurings you try and decode. “Always wanted you to stay, darlin’. Always dreamt of you, always-”

“I thought you dreamt of ten-month summers,” you manage to tease between tears, catching his lips as his arms lift you, pressing you to the nearest wall to wrap your legs around his waist, thrusting his clothed cock against you. You remembered that dream particularly because it had been a miserable winter, one that he confessed to have felt in his very bones. How he grumbled then, in the silences when he thought you wouldn’t hear.

“Even with that summer, without you there, I don’t fuckin’ need it, sugar.”

You both make up that afternoon, slowly, lovingly, with him begging you to stay as he pushes your bottoms off and you promising that you will. The burning stretch of his girth makes you tear up again, just as he cups your face and soothes you through it. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. Let me make it up to you…” You let him do many things. You let him take you again. You let him regain control over himself again.

Oftentimes you wonder if uncertainty struck fear into him. Perhaps it was why he had always kept himself at an arm’s distance, even when you slept in his bed and wore his shirts. Perhaps that was why he had never allowed himself to feel. Never allowed himself to name that love he had for you.

“I love you, Joel.” The whisper comes between moans as his lips mark your neck in rough kisses, taking you again as he had taken you everytime. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” He groans at the sound of your promises, a low guttural sound, just as his lips nip at the skin of your neck, making you whine and squeal against him.

“I fuckin’ love you, peach,” he finally manages to say, hips pistoning in and out of your weeping cunt as he makes you look at him. “I could never have enough of you… fuck!” He doesn’t care if the whole of Jackson hears you, sees the two of you locked in this embrace. As long as he had you, he knows, nothing else mattered. Gently, he lets you down to turn you around, manipulating your hips as your hands keep you balanced to the wall. He sinks so easily to his knees, tongue swiping from your clit, your weeping hole, your perineum, and even up to your ass, spreading your wetness and his precome with a low chuckle. “Tell me you need me, darlin’, come on.”

You do tell him. “I need you, sir, please,” you whisper, with such gentleness that he chuckles. He loved the way your begging sounded, the way you called him sir, like you did in those shy beginnings when you could barely look him in the eye. Loved the way you whine and try to reach down to touch yourself, only for him to tsk in warning, your hand immediately returning to the wall. “Please let me cum, sir, I just want you, please!”

Finally, he indulges you. His tongue fucking you, hands spreading your asscheeks, beard digging into your skin and his nose, his nose, just teasing your asshole enough to make you clench down in expectation. He does not stop, does not pause even when you buck against him, clenching your teeth as you feel his tongue reach there, that point that makes you fucking feral, bucking until he pushes you off the edge, and continues to push you over the edge, knees weakening and trembling in the aftermath of pleasure. You thank him, louder than you’ve ever thanked any deity for each day of survival. If you were honest, you didn’t care so much about religion, about believing. Not when everything you ever believed in knelt before you, asking you if you’d let him take your ass.

You nod breathlessly, pressing your cheek against the cool wallpaper. “It’s yours, sir. It’s all yours, and you know it.”

He smirks, kissing the small of your back. His perfect, willing girl.

He slowly draws you into it, knows you’ve never done anything like this. He starts with his tongue, helping you relax around him, helping you relax when you take one finger, then another. You had never felt so empty and yet so full at the same time. You feel the walls of your cunt stretched out over nothing, your fingers digging into the plaster as he finally stands, lips pressing kisses and assurances into your shoulders. And there, just there- you feel the head of his cock entering you, your body welcoming him so willingly, without much effort nor pain.

He fucks you with renewed vigor, your moans intermingling as his hands trail on separate directions. His left hand trails from your neck, to your chest, and quickly to your nipples, pinching, tugging, His right trails from your stomach to your wanton clit, rubbing concentric circles softly and gently prolonging your pleasure to match up with his stamina. Even as he batters your walls, his lips are so gently, praising you and kissing you. “Of course I fuckin’ love you, sugar. Always fuckin’ did.”

It’s the confession, you would think later on, that pushes the both of you over the edge. You beg him to let you, and he chuckles at how needy and willing you are in his hands. “Together, baby, yeah? Come on, be a good girl and come with me.” HIs fingers intensify his efforts, so do his cock, and it’s even more easier, You feel yourself gush at nothing, his hands the only thing holding you up now as he finds his high, rolling off with you, fucking his spend deep within your ass. “Fuck, yeah. Just like that, princess. Fuck!”

You cry for him and cum even harder, clenching and collapsing, saved only by his trembling frame. It is then that you feel his teeth biting down against your skin, guttural groans escaping and reverberating against your sweat-slick skin. You call for him, hand reaching back to tug against his hair, giving him the consent to sink his teeth deeper against your flesh.

You exchange words of love, you kiss slowly, gently. Joel carries you gently to the small cot you had been resting on, his gaze scolding you for putting your body through this uncomfortable surface every night. You whine when he leaves you, but he smiles. “I’m not goin’ anywhere again, sugar. Promise.”

He makes good on that promise, returning with something to wipe you clean, slowly, gently, not wanting to make it any worse for you. He praises you, nonetheless. So good f’me, baby. My perfect girl.

You fall asleep, slowly, gently, to the same words, your hand on his, his mouth on your cheek, kissing you all over. It’s the most peace you ever felt in a long time.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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angelshimaa · 6 months

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thinking about shinso who finds himself in love with you so suddenly. gn!reader, established relationship (hinted at it being new-ish)

one would assume someone like him would take his time easing into falling in love— he seemed like the type to take the stairs instead, taking care to dip his toes into it before he fully commits to the dive. hell, he thought so too.

then again, he never really could be sure about the way his heart worked when it came to you.

your head rests against his shoulder as lazy conversation drifts through his bedroom. you try to hang onto every single word you exchange, but you can't help how your eyelids droop so heavily, as if carrying the weight of the world.

it doesn't help just how comfortable his bed is.

“y/n? are you listening?” his voice sounds like liquid gold, so attractive in how effortlessly smooth it is. you force your eyes open, humming as if you were listening.

shinso's head is turned to look down at you and it's then that he notices just how tired you are. it's been a long day and he'd missed talking to you and hearing the sound of your voice, but he hadn't realised just how heavy the exhaustion weighed on you.

“why didn't you say you were tired, hm?”

your yawn is wide and long— so very cute to him— and you blink slowly up at him. “‘missed you, ‘toshi. i wanted to hear all you had to say— sleep can wait a bit.” your words are slightly slurred, but there's something about them that makes him feel so touched.

“well, clearly it can't.” his grin is lazy, and your lips do their best to pull back in an equally lazy smile. even with the heavy lidding of your eyes, you look at him in a way that still has him jittery— the kind of jittery that threatens to jump out of his chest and sing like every love story does.

“no no no no no, it can. keep talkin’, pretty boy— i’m listenin’.” the ‘pretty boy’ has the jitters coming in stronger, and he laughs— the light sort of laugh that suits soft moments like this.

“the ‘pretty boy’ will talk again tomorrow— now, let's sleep.” you don't have it in you to protest— nor do you want to, with the way your body feels ready to collapse.

it doesn't take very long for the two of you to settle comfortably under the sheets, and shinso just can't take his eyes off of you. with heavy eyelids and slurred words, you seem drunk off something and it amuses him.

the two of you face each other, and the purple of his eyes is almost hypnotising in how it traces over you. framed by deep eyebags, you don't think you've seen prettier eyes in all your life.

“g'night, ‘toshi. pretty pretty ‘toshi with the pretty eyes,” you giggle a little at your words, and the way you gaze at him has his heart thumping in a heavier manner than he's used to.

“sleep well, babe,” is all he can muster— his mind is too preoccupied with the beauty of you to say anything else. dear lord, you make him so very nervous.

shinso stays awake while you give way to sleep, trying to understand the strangeness in his heartbeat, the wonder swimming in his veins and the content pooling into his stomach. he's never called it what it is before— but tonight has made him aware that he just might start doing exactly that.

there wasn't anything better to call it, anyway— ‘love’ has never fitted a singular person so well before.

✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

taglist (fill in this form to join!!) :: @maeby-cursed @katsukismrs @himikoslove @afairywithacrown @pasteldaze

#— signed ⋆·ʚ⁺#idk what this is either #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #mha shinso x reader #mha shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fluff #mha shinsou #mha drabbles

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goddessofwind8water · 1 year

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So I’m watching OoO for the first time (other than Michael and Ritchie’s pov, neither of which interacts that much with pov’s outside there circle) and as someone who consumed a lot of OoO though fanfic it is really strange to see OoO s1 Brakey.

There always portrayed as a somewhat good relationship. But in the actual season it just seems that their both just assholes useing each other for the own personal gain

And this isn’t saying that there’s anything wrong with that dynamic, personally I love some ships were both sides are obviously useing each other for gain. It’s just not What I was expecting from all the shit I’d read.

Like Bryan looses against Mitch and then Jakey’s yelling at him, I’m just a little bit surprised.

I get that the fandom does had a small problem with ‘beaning’ character, but wow.

#OrignsMCRP #origins of olympus #Origins of Olympus brakey #Origins Brakey #OoO Brakey #Thefamousfilms #Dive’s just talkin #Shipping #I’ll get Jakey’s username later #it’s not as if I could ever spell it

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rustedhearts · 6 months

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hard learnin’ (gator tillman x fem!reader)

summary: gator punishes you for flaunting what (isn’t) his.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ main masterlist

tags: spanking, oral (m receiving), spitting (a lot of it), canon-compliant misogyny, mean!gator.

for @loveshotzz <3

the tillman barn. early morning.

“I told you—not to—do it.”

Every few words came with the snap of leather on flesh, cracking off the barn walls and exciting the horses stomping in their stables. Your fingers gripped the metal of the corral with all their might, digging into your chest against your will. Every strike of his heavy duty belt had you lurching toward the dirt and hay. Your socked feet were picking up pebbles, unprepared for an assault at such an early hour.

But you did get yourself into this mess.

“M-m so-sorry,” you hiccuped, listening to the corral clang on its hinges after a particularly rough hit.

Gator huffed, glaring down at your swelling, discolored flesh. “Yeah, now you are. Weren’t so sorry last night, were ya?”

And you weren’t. You weren’t sorry when you got dolled up in a tight little black dress and called up your friends. You weren’t sorry when you scampered down to the dive and climbed up on the bar to pour drinks. You weren’t sorry when you let that guy drag you to the dance floor. You weren’t sorry when you drunkenly scrawled some version of your phone number on a napkin and tucked it in his pants.

But you were sorry now. Gator always made sure you were sorry.

“Asked you a question, brat.” Another hard strike, slicing through the air and down on your bare ass. Your pajama pants sat around your ankles.

But the thing about Gator? He acted like you were his. His property, his possession, his girl. Yet when the time came to possess you, to have you—he fell short. Never claimed you as his girlfriend, never promised long term commitment, never made you feel like it was true. He always left you hanging.

You sniffled, willing away hot tears stinging in your eyes. Your nose burned and tingled, and you kept glancing toward the door of the barn in hopes Gator’s daddy wouldn’t come waltzing in to hold witness to your humiliation. He heard the sounds of Gator’s punishments once before and patted his son on the shoulder later at dinner. Gotta keep ‘em in line, son. You despised it. How him and his father thought they could do whatever they wanted because they ran the town.

But you loved him. It was your own damn fault.

“Shakin’ like a fuckin’ leaf, sweetheart,” Gator chuckled. He paused a moment to spit on the dirt: a sharp smack of saliva landing near your feet.

“H-hurts,” you whimpered, knees buckling to ease the sting.

Gator huffed, eyes rolling behind you. He gave you a mild lash on the thigh in reprimand. “Get back up.”

You stomped your socked foot, whining into a pout. “I’ll make it up to you, Gator, please!”

The buckle of his belt—a wide silver embellishment—tinkled as he let the leather droop. He cocked his head, inspecting your welts and swelling bruises as he thought. He fished into the pocket on his thigh and pulled out the strawberry-kiwi vape, taking a quick, hissing hit. He sighed as it furled out, tongue clicking.

“Fine. Since you’re just gonna keep complain’ anyway. C’mere.”

You shakily lifted from the corral bars, spinning around. Reaching down, your fingers curled into the elastic band of your pajama pants, but Gator whistled sharply.

“Hey. Uh-uh, leave ‘em.”

Huffing, you sulked and dropped your hands. “Why can’t I—“

“You talkin’ back?” Gator cocked his head again as he stuck the vape in his mouth.

You watched his cheeks hollow with a deep inhale. The mechanical vape click made your blood boil. You wanted to hike your pants up, march over there, and spit in his face. But his shoulders looked so broad in that stocky black sheriff’s vest. His hair was recently trimmed, lined up neatly around his ears and neck. The way those camo pants hugged his hips made you clench. And the belt still sat in his hand, silver gleaming menacingly in the soft yellow of morning light.

With hot cheeks, you huffed again and looked down. “No.”

Gator tucked his vape back in his pants and spit toward the left. His fingers drummed on the stiff lining of his vest, and he nodded down toward the ground at his feet.

“Well…it ain’t gonna suck itself.”

Your knees thumped to the hard ground instantly. You crawled his way slowly, glaring up at the smirk on his face when he had the audacity to shuffle back just to make you come. He chuckled, but stayed in place until you stopped at his feet. You sat back on your heels in the dirt and unzipped his pants, slipping him out into your palm.

“Ooh, shit. C’mon don’t play w’ it, baby, open your mouth.”

He hooked his hands into his vest when your mouth closed over him, chin tipped back toward the roof of the barn as he groaned. Warm pleasure enveloped him, but on the ground, you were freezing cold. Your ass and thighs ached pressed against your feet, fingers growing numb against his thighs.

But maybe if you did a good job, he’d be sweet again. Maybe he’d hold you tonight when he got home from work. Maybe he’d kiss you all over like he did sometimes, tickle you when you pouted too much. Maybe he’d be kind.

You worked your mouth over him languidly, and Gator groaned without shame. He dropped his belt to the dirt with a thud and wrapped his hand in your hair, guiding you around. You knew just what kind of suction, just how much tongue, how to look at him and where to put your hands—you knew him so insanely well. It was a goddamn shame.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, hips jutting toward your mouth. “Suck that dick.”

He grunted as he thrust in and out of your mouth, reveling in the wet squelches of your constricting throat. He dropped your hair and you heard the click of his vape again. The fruity smoke tickled your nose when he blew it down on you.

You lifted your eyes, blurring hot with tears. And as you found Gator’s pink-cheeked face, his own eyes hazy with pleasure and bliss—he opened his mouth and spat one out.

A wad of warm spit sizzled on your cheek, and you flinched at the smacking impact. Your mouth stilled around him, suction loosening.

“Oops,” Gator chuckled above you, sticking the vape near his mouth again. “Did I getcha, hon?”

Though a humiliated fury surged in your chest, you kept your lips closed around his cock and did your best. He wanted you to get irritated with him. He thought you were so cute when you got all riled up. And he liked being the one riling you.

Gator’s thumb pressed into your cheek, massaging his spit into your skin. Your eyes fluttered closed on their own will, soothed by his touch. He was rarely soft like that. Your involuntary moan had him bucking into your mouth again, hand moving to scrunch in your hair once more.

“Fuck, you’re a dirty bitch. No better than…an animal,” he groaned. “God, fuck ‘m gonna cum.”

You put him as far back in your throat as you could manage, nose nudging the furry patch on his pelvis. The vibrant, neon green of his vape entered your periphery when it pressed against your cheek under his hand, both of them coming to brace your head now. Gator liked you to swallow his seed. He thought it was dirty, disgusting—but that’s what he loved about it.

“B-better—swallow it,” he ordered through tight teeth. You bobbed your head in compliance, watching the veins in his neck strain around the collar of his t-shirt and behind his vest.

He pinched his eyes closed, jaw agape, nose scrunched up—and a strangled moan sliced through the barn as he spilled into your mouth. It slipped down your throat in a thick, sticky coating that had you cringing. He huffed and squirmed as he softened on your tongue, and you suckled at him absentmindedly as he slipped out.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he patted an open palm on your spit-sticky cheek. You swallowed again to ensure it was all down, and waited for him to give you the okay. God, your ass was still burning.

Gator sniffed, reaching down for his belt. He was just slipping it through the loops of his pants when a distant clang caused his head to snap up.

“Fuck, get up. My dad’s gonna be out soon.”

You wobbled as you got to your feet like a brand new fawn. You peeled your pajama pants back over your hips and secured the strings, doing your best to brush off the dirt and hope it didn’t stain. The soft fabric did little to muffle the acute sting of Gator’s strap.

“Come on,” he hissed, yanking your arm to pull you close.

He kept a close eye on the front of the barn as he hurried you out back, dragging you through the dirt the whole way. Roy Tillman would have his few hours on his horse at the ass crack of dawn like he always did, and Gator would wait until he was told what to do to make his daddy happy again.

You wouldn’t see him again until near morning.

“You’ll wait at home,” he instructed, heading toward his truck. “You hear me? No runnin’ around.”

You huffed as you slid in, crossing your arms. The truck jostled when he slammed the door after him, and the engine started up with a coughing growl. He whipped out of the dirt patch driveway, heading down the trail toward your house (where he yanked you from your bed not too long ago).

“Why can’t I just stay at your house?”

Gator scoffed, putting his vape in his mouth again. “Dad don’t like strangers around.”

Stranger somehow stung worse than anything else. He just spent an hour attacking your ass for going out without him—but you were still a stranger?

“Your dad’s an asshole—“

Gator slammed on the brakes, sending you hurtling forward against the seatbelt. Once you fell back, his hand latched to your jaw, fingers pressed tight into your cheeks. The look he fixed you with was sharp and mean.

“You watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

He tossed your head away harshly, and you glared down at your knees. He shook his head toward the windshield as he took his foot off the brake and sped down the street.

“Looks like you still have some learnin’ to do.” Gator hollowed his cheek around that stupid fruity piece of plastic again. The smoke slipped into the cold autumn air.

“Don’t worry. I’ll set ya straight, hon.”

#rolly!#gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman fic #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x reader smut

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fieriframes · 1 year

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["JUST KEEP TALKIN', BUDDY. I'M GONNA EAT." THOUGH CHARLIE IS ONE OF THE BIG GOOD GUYS IN MY UNIVERSE. ALL WE'RE SIMPLY USING IS BLACK PEPPER AND SALT.]

#s01e05 local legends #guy fieri #guyfieri #diners drive-ins and dives #just keep talkin #big good guys #though charlie #black pepper #buddy #gonna #my #universe #is #salt

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hellishjoel · 7 months

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delicate - chapter one: someone new

3.4k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

summary: Sarah decides it’s time for her dad to start dating again. Joel isn’t sure he needs to, but decides if it’s for Sarah, he’s willing to give it a go. After a few failed attempts, he finally stumbles across someone new.

A/N: This is the first chapter of a new fic co-written with @thetriumphantpanda - we’re both so excited for you all to finally read what we’ve been working on. You’ll be able to find the masterlist on both of our Tumblrs, and we’ll be taking turns in posting chapters, so if you want to keep up to date with posting, please make sure you’re following us both!

warnings: Joel being terrible at dating apps, mentions of being a single parent, flirting, rom-com vibes, allusions to more mature themes but nothing explicit as of now, foul language, mentions of food & alcohol, Sarah & Tommy being menaces.

“Dad, have you thought about settling down soon?”

Joel had nearly just sat down at the dining table, a warm bowl of chili stinging his hands as he set down a glass of water with a quiet huff.

“Am settled down.” He grumbled, diving straight into the warm bowl with ferocity.

Sarah sighed quietly and circled her fingertip over the rim of her water glass.

“I mean,” she tries again, “settled down with someone.”

Sarah knows this is a weird topic to bring up over dinner. She can see it in the way her father stops chewing on his food, his water glass halfway to his lips now frozen midair.

Since she was a small girl, her father’s world revolved around her. She put the sun in the sky and the smiles on his face. He put her through years of soccer practice and clarinet lessons, drove her across the state for tournaments, and made her favorite dinner when it was her birthday. She was his little girl.

Sarah knew she had a very loving father, always lucky in that regard, but that love felt a little lost when she started attending university. All she could think about was leaving her dad in an empty house with no one to cook for, no one to bug about cleaning their room. He didn’t have anyone besides Uncle Tommy. And Sarah was sure that was the last person he wanted to spend his free time with.

Fresh from graduating with a bachelor’s degree in biology from Texas State University, Sarah opted to live at home for a year in the hopes of saving up money for med school. And perhaps she could complete the side quest of finding a potential date for her dad.

Joel clears his throat and wipes his hand on a paper towel, smearing it a reddish-orange from the chili.

“Don’t need anyone else when I’ve got you, peanut.” He gave a lopsided smile and continued eating.

Why would she ask something like that? Why was she thinking about finding someone for him?

Joel thought of himself as an independent man. Never went looking for love, going on about his business, so why start now?

Sarah looked unsure of what to say next, wanting to push the conversation and letting that uncertainty fill the air between them.

Joel sighs, his spoon sputtering in the bowl and listening to it clang around the rim.

“You don’t gotta worry about me, kid. I’m fine on my own.” He insisted, shrugging casually.

“Uncle Tommy and I were talking about you, more specifically about you dating-”

Joel buried his face in his hands, letting out a loud, exasperated sigh as he ran his hands down his face, calloused palms scraping against beard stubble.

“Sarah, what did I tell you about talkin’ to Uncle Tommy? Take nothin’a substance from those conversations.”

“Dad, please.” His little girl was frowning now, desperate puppy dog eyes searching his own. “How bad would it be if Uncle Tommy and I put you on a few dating apps, y’know? You could meet a nice woman, take her out for dinner, do whatever you want, but you can’t not try anymore.”

Joel snuffed out a scoff, quickly dialing it down once he was receiving daggers.

“Peanut, ya just… you get to a certain age where you give up on that type of stuff. Love n’all. M’an old dog, been outta the game for too long.” Joel returned to his dinner, thinking the conversation was done and over with.

Sarah let out a heavy breath through her nostrils and crossed her arms. “Dad, we’re finding you someone, or at least we’re going to try. You can’t just-just shrug off your feelings!”

Sarah’s chair scraped backward, standing up suddenly and commandeering the room.

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. What happened with Mom was a long time ago. You can’t shut off trying to find love. I saw you go on two dates when I was growing up. Two! You can’t say you’ve tried, you can’t say you don’t want it, everyone wants to find their special someone. And you,” she said with wide, frantic eyes. “You are not done trying. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Joel sat in silence as Sarah retrieved her bowl of chili and glass of water, fleeing up the stairs to her room. He sat back in his chair, shifting his jaw from side to side in thought.

Guilt festered in his chest. Seeing Sarah so adamant about something like his love life was telling it was something she thought a fair amount about. She worried about his happiness, his life alone.

Though he thought a life of solitude worked well for him, he couldn’t deny that small part of him that wished he had someone to share the little moments with. Sarah wouldn’t be living at home forever, and she would never be replaced in Joel’s heart, but maybe she was right that it was time for him to start trying again.

“Okay, so I downloaded Tinder, Hinge, Bumble, eHarmony, and Farmer’s Only.”

Sarah paraded around Joel’s smartphone, downloading different online dating apps left and right while he watched helplessly beside her on the couch. He could feel a headache spark in his temple already.

“M’not a farmer.”

Sarah simply shrugged and opened up the first app, Tinder. “True, but we’re trying to keep our options open.”

Joel sighed and leaned back into the couch cushions, hearing the front door open without a knock. His brother, Tommy, paraded inside, a six-pack of beer in his hand and a jean jacket in the other.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Joel asked as he saddled his hands on his knees and pushed himself off the couch, eyes narrowed on his younger brother.

“What? You think I would miss Sarah putting you up for auction?”

“Hey,” Sarah said defensively, disliking that her Uncle Tommy was making fun of her genuine attempt to find Joel a woman. “Don’t make him feel bad. It took several hours of convincing just to get him to hand me his phone.”

Tommy sneered and plopped down into Joel’s recliner, cracking open a beer despite it only being late afternoon. Hell, he might need one too.

“Okay, Dad, focus. We need to fill out some of the Tinder prompts.” Sarah patted the section of the couch beside hers, Joel joining her after a few grumbles of resistance.

“Prompts? What sorta prompts?” He asked, craning his neck to look at the phone screen she held up in her hands.

“Prompts to get to know you better. You know, like, what are your likes and dislikes, what are you looking for in a relationship, where would you want to take someone for a first date,” Sarah continued the list until Tommy’s chuckle broke her concentration.

“Ain’t Tinder for hookin’ up with chicks?” Tommy asked, making Joel’s head snap to Sarah.

“Sarah, the hell are you doin’ to me?”

“It’s not just for hookups, dad-”

“Yes, it is.” Tommy snicked, making Sarah glare at him.

“C’mon, we’re trying everything to see what sticks.”

Joel felt rather hopeless about the whole ordeal. They added pictures, and Sarah crafted answers for his prompts. He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing with the whole left, right, swiping action. At one point, he expanded the age search by accident and didn’t realize it the next morning until he got a very forward message from a young woman.

Hey, good looking ;) you look like a big man in more ways than one, if you catch what I mean… how about you come over to mine and show me a good time, I bet we can make it fit if we try hard enough.

Joel storms into the kitchen, shoving his phone at Sarah’s face, “Take that damn app off,” He demands, “It ain’t for me.”

“What did she say to you?” Sarah snorts, taking the phone from him, Joel watching as she holds her finger on the icon until it wobbles.

“That ain’t for you to know,” Joel shakes his head, “Just delete the damn thing off my phone.”

He watches as Sarah presses the cross in the corner of the icon, making a mental note of how he can delete the rest of them later when she’s not watching, she hands his phone back to him, taking a sip of orange juice, whilst he pockets the phone.

Despite his first attempt at dating apps failing horribly, he was intrigued. A lot of the women out there were beautiful, some with children of their own from past relationships just like him.

Joel was trying to watch the first Dallas Cowboys pre-season game with Sarah when his phone buzzed with a notification. It was just one of those that stated he had potential matches out there on Bumble.

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, flicked his eyes up to the television screen, and clocked he wasn’t missing anything before he opened his phone.

A few profiles later, he landed on a woman he found with a nice smile. He read through her profile, even letting out a quiet chuckle.

Sarah’s eyebrows were drawn together with curiosity, watching her father smile goofily at his phone.

“What’s goin’ on with you? You’re scaring me.” She teased as she pushed herself off the couch and leaned over his shoulder to see he was actually on one of the dating apps. A small sense of pride filled her.

“I like ‘er. Got a nice smile, funny too.” Joel affirmed with a nod. He swiped like he was directed to, but then there was nothing.

His face fell, smile and happiness swirling down the drain as he grew frustrated.

“How the hell do I message ‘er?” He asked, neck craning as he held up his phone to Sarah, his silent way of asking for support.

“You can’t message women first on Bumble. They have to like you back and message you first.” Sarah said with a shrug, snagging her dad’s beer from his hand and taking a quick swig.

Joel was only scowling in disappointment and frustration. “Y’mean, I can’t even talk to ‘er? I can’t be a proper gentleman and make the first goddamn move?”

He grunted in annoyance, swiped back his beer, and threw up the glass bottle to drain the last of its contents as he deleted the app. “Sick of these damn datin’ apps already. None of them are worth a damn.”

Sarah sighed quietly and found her way back to the couch, nervousness settling inside of her. He wasn’t a very disagreeable person, in fact, her dad was neutral about a lot of things. What did he want to have for dinner tonight? Anything was fine. Which movie did he want to watch? He didn’t care, said she could pick. So why was he finding so many excuses with the apps? Not even the women, but the apps.

Part of her thought about him trying to find a woman the old-school way, but he was maybe too out of the game to brush up a conversation with a random stranger. He might fail miserably, but maybe it would help with his confidence. He only had a few apps left, ticking off one by one.

Joel stared at the ceiling, encapsulated by the slow-circling fan overhead. Darkness laid a dark veil over his bedroom, a sliver of moonlight being cast through the window. His head laid back into the pillows, jaw ticking from side to side as he lay wide awake. He lightly scratched his chest, feeling the dark hair that clustered at his sternum as his head rolled to the side and read the digital numbers on his clock.

Another sigh left his parted lips. It was late, far too late for someone who worked the early mornings to be awake. At least tomorrow as Friday.

His phone vibrated gently on his nightstand, a little chime he wasn’t accustomed to. He plucked his phone from the charger and squinted at its brightness, sitting up on his forearm to read the text. It was a message from a woman on Hinge. They had matched.

Joel grunted and stared blankly at his lock screen until it went black with inactivity. No. Just go to sleep, Joel. Forget about it. He set his phone on the bed and laid on his side, digging his cheek into a pillow and forcing his eyes closed. Well, what was she doing awake at this hour?

He opens his phone, clicking on the ‘H’ icon with its tiny red notification dot. He pays no mind to reading the message yet, instead clicking onto the mystery womans profile. The first picture is one of her wrapped up in a big coat, plaid scarf wrapped around her neck with a bobble hat and something warm clasped in her hands - it looks like she’s in a big city from what he can tell from the blurry background behind her, but he notices how happy she looks - big grin plastered on her face that reaches all the way to her eyes.

Scrolling further down her profile, he finds the first prompt ‘Best Travel Story’ - her answer reading about a time she’d been hiking with her family. She likes the outdoors Joel thinks - something he and Sarah also enjoy, but he shakes his head before he thinks too much about a third person he can take hiking. There’s another photo then, clearly taken in the summer - she’s in a lovely dress, sitting at a table with a young boy on her lap, perhaps a nephew? He tries not to imagine that he’s stumbled across another single parent, what good luck that would be.

Joel doesn’t make it much further down her profile - just to the section with all of her basic information. She’s around his age, shorter than him but not by much, she’s got a yes next to drinking, but a no to smoking and drugs, and she works in marketing. A steady job, he thinks. He’s praying, silently, that when he clicks back to her message, she’s sane.

Good evening Joel! Sorry for such a late message, I’m a slight insomniac. I love your profile, you seem lovely! How are you doing this evening? (Or this morning depending on when you read this!)

The corner of his mouth twitches into a small smile. A slight insomniac who thought he was quite lovely. Her words, not his. Maybe asking Sarah for help on his profile wasn’t such a bad idea. His fingers twitched above the keyboard, but he was unsure of what to say next.

Joel sat up in bed, about to shove the covers off his lap and ask Sarah for help, when he took another look at his digital clock. It’s too late to wake her, he thinks. He’ll have to craft a response on his own. He dreads it, words never really being his strong suit. Would he look creepy if he replied this late back?

Looks like we’re both slight insomniacs. Besides being unable to fall asleep, my evening was fine. How are you doing tonight, ma’am?

Joel sighed and stared at his response, picking it apart and cursing under his breath. Now, he was wide awake.

Ma’am? Way to make me feel 101… charming though, I like it ;) I’m doing okay, thank you. Just enjoying the only peace and quiet I get before I go to sleep. What’s keeping you up then, Joel?

Joel’s face crumpled, pushing a hand through his hair after reading his response over and over again. He meant it in a gentlemanly way, not to make her feel old. He really screwed the pooch on that one. Nipping at his lower lip, he tried again.

No offense intended ma’am, I’m just a Southern man is all. Don’t mind about what’s keeping me up, I want to know about you. You don’t get much peace and quiet until midnight? How’s that?

None taken, just not used to someone being a gentleman on these things - normally at this point someone would be asking for a picture of my tits so you’re doing well so far. It’s usually my son that keeps me up, he’s been asleep a while but I only get so much time to clear up after him, so midnight is me time once that’s all done. You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s keeping you awake?

Joel’s smile only grew larger as she responded, and rather quickly, too. He imagined they looked quite similar right now. Different towns, different houses, both curled up in bed and staring at their phones, waiting for the other to reply. He wondered if she was smiling like he was, trying to push away an undeniable flutter in his stomach. Making him feel like a damn teenager.

His face softened at her response. My son, she said. That boy on her profile, with chubby cheeks and a toothy smile, a head full of hair, and glee all over his face, was her son. She was a mother, just like he was a father. He wondered if she saw the young woman in his pictures and knew that was his daughter, Sarah. How could he subtly drop the hint?

Those aren’t gentlemen, just boys. Sorry to hear they were wasting your time. I understand your limited personal time. When my daughter Sarah was young, my alone time consisted of sitting in the truck during her soccer practices and after she went to bed. It’s not easy. What’s keeping me up is partially Sarah’s fault. She’s the one who urged me onto Hinge. I don’t really know what I’m doing, to be honest. Just know a pretty flower when I see one.

Is Sarah the young girl on your profile? She’s beautiful if so, you must be so proud of how she’s grown up. Well Joel, you don’t seem clueless, you’re keeping my attention pretty well, especially calling me pretty, I might be blushing. What made her decide now was the time for you to start dating?

He’d never admit it if anyone asked. But it looked like he still had that Southern charm, you never really grow out of it. He reached over and plucked the string to his lamp, sitting up against his bedframe and sipping on a glass of water as he read over her reply again and again. He had a fondness for the way she complimented his baby girl. She got extra points for that.

Yep, that’s my Sarah. She’s going to med school next year, couldn’t be prouder. I suppose she graduated from college and thinks she knows everything now. Thinks I need a love life. I think she’s felt this way for a while, but she knows I’m stubborn. What’s your son’s name? Looks like a good kid.

Smart and beautiful, you must have very good genes Joel. That’s incredible though, I can imagine how proud you are of her. Well, I for one am pleased she’s pushed you here, you seem a really nice guy Joel. My son is Noah, he’s seven so full of beans, I’ve never known anyone have so much damn energy!

And you seem like a real nice woman, ma’am. Sarah had so much energy at seven, that’s when I put her in soccer to run all that damn energy out of her.

His fingers hesitated, typing out the message but not quite pressing send. He liked her. He liked how sweet and funny she was. Plus, she understood what it was like to have a kid, someone who would always be put first.

Since it’s technically 12:57, are you doing anything tonight? Is having a drink okay for a slight insomniac?

Well, thank you very much Joel. I have a feeling Noah and Sarah would have gotten along well if they were the same age, he’s just started soccer practice for that very reason. And, lucky for you, Noah has an evening with his grandparents tonight, so a drink sounds lovely. Just let me know a time and a place.

His heart was thumping in his chest, a tired little grin on his face as he offered to take her to The Aristocrat Lounge on the North side of Austin. They settled on seven, enough time for Joel to get home, shower, and convince Sarah to help clean him up a bit. A daunting feeling pressed into his chest, making his breath snag tight in his lungs. He was nervous, those strange butterflies still fussing around. He shoved them down, persistent on ignoring the feeling.

It’s a date. Try to get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, ma’am.

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courtingchaos · 1 year

Text

Braised

Line Cook Eddie x Barista Reader

Summary: A long day at work leads to a long night in Eddie’s bedroom.

A/N: woof. I started this back in March? Took me this long to come back to it but I like it. Nay, love it because line cook Eddie is my boyfriend. Also, I need @newlips to know this has lived in my head since January and is the inspiration for this. It’s literally just….so so so much smut.

Warnings: Slight somnophilia (listen you had a long day and he’s got a great mouth), sex, drug use (not for the somno)

18+ NSFW No Minors

“Eddie, I’m really tired.” You giggle when his mouth finds the back of your neck.

“Yeah but I think I found some more syrup back here. Mhm, yep another sweet spot.” He rakes his hands into your hair to pull it up gently so he can get at more skin. It tickles, makes you scrunch your nose at the feel of his lips pecking around.

“Seriously Ed, I’m not gonna be much fun tonight.” It’s not that you didn’t want to fuck around, it was that it had been a Sunday From Hell. You’d shown up to his apartment a sticky mess, a new bleach stain on your favorite work jeans. He’d done nothing but smile and take your bag and usher you off to his bathroom, tossing in one of his big bath towels behind you and promising to have dinner ready when you were done.

Since then, he’d somehow convinced you to sit on his bed with him when you’d gotten out.

You gotta plug your phone in why don’t you sit down I’m sure your feet are killing you let me rub them for you oh why don’t you let me get that knot out of your back no seriously just lay down I’ll give you a little massage no I’m not getting fresh calm down.

You’d gotten comfortable, lightly dozing in the middle of his bed while he made sure the knot in your back never showed up again.

“Feel better?”

You nod and sigh dreamily. He’s shifted up from the edge of the bed to straddling your hips, bent over your back to whisper in your ear. “I can make you feel even better if you want.” He dances his fingers down to run along the edge of the towel.

“Eddie…”

“What if you just lay there huh? Let me take care of you.” He says quietly.

You were tired. You were sore. However the shower had worked a minor miracle and the growing bulge pushed against your ass was changing your mind by the minute. You pretend to contemplate, rolling your head back and forth on the back of your hand that’s propped up under your chin.

“And you’re making me dinner?”

“And I’m making us dinner.”

You shrug lightly. “Can’t complain if I fall asleep.”

“Scouts honor. I’ll leave you alone if you fall asleep.”

“Well I didn’t say that.” You mumble in your skin. His weight shifts forward, planting his hands next to your head. He hovers over you and chuckles. “Are you being a freak?”

“…Maybe. What constitutes a freak?”

“Talkin’ about me fucking you while your asleep’ll do it.”

The towel is the first thing to go, Eddie’s fingers sliding between the terrycloth and your shower warmed skin. It’s pulled free and flung towards the bathroom door, the chill air hitting your clammy skin for only a moment before his big frame is back on you, knees around your hips and hands planting beside your elbows. Your cheek upturned, he leans down to give you a kiss.

“You’re real sweet on me, huh?” You mumble. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the flash of a smile before he dives back down to kiss a trail from your face to your shoulder all the while slowly grinding his hips into you.

“You could say that.” He spends a while on light touches, pulling quite sighs out of you while you relax further into the comforter. You think you might actually be falling asleep when you realize he’s stopped touching you. He gets off the bed for a minute to rearrange and grab his other pillow. He kneels beside you again and taps your hip. When you don’t make a move he grabs you, fingers digging in enough to make you laugh.

“Don’t tickle me!”

“Then move!” The smile is evident in his voice even though you can’t see his face. He jostles you again and you turn your hip up off the bed.

“No, lift your hips up, like-forget it.” He leaves the pillow and yanks you up by the waist, making you tuck your knees up under you to stay up right. He makes a pleased sound and smooths his palm over the curve of your ass.

“You just gonna stare all night?”

“I could.” He says quietly. His finger traces light lines up the back of your thigh and you can feel the heat slowly creeping its way across your hips. It reaches out towards the lingering feeling of his palms pulling you up, where his fingertips had dug in. You were getting used to him moving you around however he wanted, liked it a lot even, just not sure how to ask for it yet. He pulls you out of your thoughts when he tucks the folded over pillow under you and gently pushes you back down.

“Relax.” He coos at you from above. His palm is warm against your ankle where he pulls a little to help you straighten your leg out. Tugs your other leg straight and then settles himself between your knees.

“Eddie-“ Turning your head over your shoulder is a deep stretch, and with your ass in the air slightly you can barely make out his hand hovering near his mouth and his dimples. He tilts his head over so you can actually see him.

“Hey that doesn’t look comfortable or relaxing.” He swats at one cheek, just fingertips, admonishing you. Tucking your chin back to the pillow you hide your smile in the silk. “You trust me, right?” He’s asking you, sincerity laced in his quiet words. You nod your head yes but he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Tell me?”

“Yeah.” A little breathless, only because he keeps stealing it from you with these kinds of acts. “Of course.” You do. It’s been a few months of actual dating and every time he’s asked it’s been yes (vehemently yes) and still he asks. It’s not like he’s moved on to suspending you from the ceiling, but it makes you a little morose for all the times other people didn’t check in, didn’t ask after simple things.

“Hey.” He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze. He’s gotten so good at reading you, can see when you immediately start to get lost in that maze of thought again. “I can leave you alone.”

“Don’t…don’t leave. I am having fun.” You shift just a little so he can see the side of your face, hair pushed back so he can see your eye glinting in the lamp light. “I mean it.” His dimples match your grin and when his weight shifts up you can feel the smile pressed against your shoulder where he places a kiss. He litters your back with them, going down your arms till he can’t reach them tucked under your cheek. He lays them up your neck until he can feel the tension bleeding away. Plants a big obnoxious one on your cheek, one that gets you to scrunch up your nose again. He runs his hands in between the spaces he misses, fingernails leaving little pink lines down your back, lines that fade after a second. He’s trying to get you back in that relaxed state you were in. Post shower and dewy and looking like a water nymph lounging on his bed.

He’s at your hip, hovering over the black lines of the tattoo there. Breathe hot where it’s trapped between your skin and his face. He runs his hands down the outside of your thighs and back up. Steadies himself while he stretches out between your legs. He shifts around to lean on his elbows, watches the goosebumps fan out and over your skin. You’re good and sunk into the bed so he leans forward and slowly bites down on your left cheek.

Your leg kicks up next to him. “Eddie!” A high pitched squeal of his name makes him laugh around the mouthful of you. He keeps an eye on your face and rests his wrist on the pillow, knuckle barely grazing your pussy. Your hips shift slightly under his mouth and he lets go, admiring the imprints of his teeth before running his tongue over it. Inches his hand up on the pillow enough to slide his finger between between your lips, wasting no time in finding your clit. Circles it slow in tight circles, your sigh loud in his quiet room when he finally touches you how you’ve been wanting him to. He likes watching you like this, soft and relaxed. Knows he’s doing his job at keeping you out of that thought trap when your hips chase his touch. He rests his head momentarily on your ass, the quiet chuckle from you cut off when he slides his finger up and brushes over your entrance. You clench against him gently prodding, canting your hips back to chase his hand when he goes still.

“Hold on.” You hear the wet sound of his mouth and then feel the momentary cool touch of his spit slick finger going in slow until he hits his knuckle. The moan caught in your chest is dislodged when he flutters the fingers of his other hand over your sensitive bud and crooks his finger deep inside you.

“Is that good?”

A slight nod of your head and then a sharp gasp when he spreads you open with two fingers and spits, fingers working to spread it around. “You like it when I make a mess of you?” Another nod, he can see where you’re fisting the pillow under your head, but that’s not what he wants. “Hey.” Firm but gentle, he gets your attention.

“Fuck, yes Eddie please…” You run out of words when he slips another finger in, both now rubbing up against that soft spot inside. He’s taking his time, both hands working at a torturous pace and making you squirm around the bed.

“Told you I’d take care of you.”

“I never doubted you.” You gasp into your hand. He said he’d wanted you to relax but this is having the opposite effect. Between him nibbling on the cuff of your ass and taking his sweet time fingering you, it’s no wonder you’re pulling taut around him. You kick your leg up and try to squeeze at him, trying to keep him in place even though you couldn’t pay him to move.

Eddie speaks lowly. Hushed tones accentuated by the sound of you, wet made wetter from him sneaking his tongue in with his fingers.

“Been waiting all day for this.” His nose brushes along your folds when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. Goosebumps explode over the backs of your thighs when his now free hand lays over your lower back to pin you to the pillow.

“Taste so sweet for me.” He licks a wide tongue from your aching clit to your entrance, tip of his tongue dipping in to taste.

“Eddie I swear…”

“What?” He licks his thumb, pausing for second before gliding it over the tight ring of your ass. A gasp and your legs tightening around him make him look up at you. Your hands gripping the pillow, mouth hung open on a gasp tell him everything.

“You like that?” Another long lick over your center pulls a groan out of you and Eddie is done asking questions. He makes a mess out of you, wet sounds drowned out by your whining and moaning. You babble about his mouth and how good it feels and Eddie preens, doubles down and presses just a little bit more with his thumb. He flicks his tongue over your clit and when you squeeze him between your thighs he speeds up.

He’s been achingly hard since he started this little venture, grinding his hips into the bed with every one of your moans and as much as he enjoys taking you apart like this, he can barely wait to sink into you.

You chant his name when he sucks your clit and your hands look for purchase in the pillow and the sheets. The tremble in your legs barely starts before your pulled tight all around him, low groan from deep in your chest punched out by the rapid flick of his tongue. You’re just off the edge, orgasm rolling through while you huff into the pillow trying to catch your breath when Eddie hauls up. Distantly you hear his clothes hit the floor and he’s between your legs again, cock laying heavy on your ass.

“I take it back.”

“Take what back?” You’re floating in clouds made out of his bed.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this.” He strains out while pulling his hips back and slowly grazing lower and lower till the head of his cock catches and he pushes in. You both groan in unison and he takes his time fully filling you.

“Fuck baby, so fuckin’ wet for me.”

You can’t do much but lay there in awe, boneless and relaxed and letting Eddie do whatever it was he wanted.

“Feel so good for me.” He drags his hips back slow and pushes back in slow and keeps talking low and slow and he’s got you in a trance. Nodding along and agreeing, keening and whining when he pushes right into that perfect spot.

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna cum again.”

“What, this?” He gives a little more on that thrust. “Not yet you aren’t.” He grabs your ass, one hand on either side to use as leverage in this game of torture he’s playing. He lets a line of spit fall from his lips between you two and resumes his previous activity of sliding his thumb over your ass.

“You are a dirty girl.” He teases when you push your hips back into him. “Want me to fuck your ass?” He’s so full of himself, with every right to be. You nod under him, a silent ‘oh’ on your lips.

“Of course you, I’d take such good care of you.” Eddie babbles at the back of your head to try to distract himself. Every ridge and bump slides along his length and sends him closer to the edge and every lurch forward he pauses, not wanting this to be over.

It’s only when he makes you arch your back and he drives down into you that he starts to falter, your second orgasm taking you both by surprise.

“Oh shit, Eddieeddieddie!” You chant his name and push your hips back to keep him inside and Eddie thinks he might just fucking die tonight.

You’re out, hands falling limply beside your head and mouth hanging open. He’s not sure he’s ever seen you so blissed out.

“Oh my god.” Even with you floating off, your pussy grips him, fluttering around his cock in the aftermath of your own orgasm. He’d been playing a game with himself, just as much as with you but he’s nearing the end of his own limits. A thin line of sweat trickles down his back and his nerves are on fire. He holds you open so he can watch where he sinks into you but there’s a faltering in his rhythm. He curses and grips the globes of your ass, nails digging half moons into your skin.

You feel good, you always feel so good and he’s lost his train of thought. Stuck on the wet sucking of your pussy and the soft fat under his hands. He reached his goal in getting you relaxed, so much so that you’ve gone limp under him, little grunts of pleasure when he hits particularly deep. He can let go but he doesn’t want to, this impromptu edging he’s been after slowly killing him and making his eyes roll.

“So fucking good for me, yeah?”

You barely nod, too busy drooling into the pillow to give him a real answer.

“God I love the way-oh fuck honey, do that again!” You flex around his cock and Eddie’s hips stutter before he decides ‘fuck it’. He punches his hips fast and holds you down to keep you in place. Your grunts turn into moans and you scratch at the pulled up bedding, looking for something to hold on to. He fucks you right until it’s almost a mistake, pulls out and paints your back in hot lines, a pained groan vibrating in his chest while he pumps his twitching cock.

He can feel you trembling under him while he tries to catch his breath. One hand holding his softening cock while the other rubs up your leg and over your side.

“That was fucking beautiful baby.”

A slight chuckle from you and he leans over you to nose at the side of your face. “You okay?”

“Uh huh.”

“You don’t have a single worry in that pretty little head, do you?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Good.” He peppers a few kisses against your cheek and you smile lazily.

“I’m gonna go get a towel okay?”

You raise a weak thumbs up and he gives your ass a slap on the way off the bed.

In the time it takes him to find a towel and come back into the bedroom, you’re out fully this time. He lets his eyes wander over your body, moulded into his bed. The slow rise and fall of your back as you slip deeper into sleep and he shakes himself out of his poetic waxing to clean you up before it becomes a problem.

You only stir a little when the cloth hits your skin but Eddie is done quickly, ditching it in favor of tracing light shapes over your back. He smirks at the short red marks along your back where he’d hung on for dear life and it’s only the timer on the stove that’s able to pull him out of his memories, lest he burn the apartment complex down.

“Hey.”

You stir, pulled gently out of your nap. Eddie is crouched beside the bed with his chin hooked on the mattress, watching you blink blearily at him. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Did I fall asleep?” You ask, stretching under the comforter that he must have pulled up over you.

“Like, immediately. Got that NyQuil dick, what can I say?” His laugh shakes the bed when you smack his shoulder lightly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Much easier to get you under the covers.” He gives you a quick kiss before standing up and holding out your pajamas to you. “You can eat dinner naked if you want, but there’s sauce involved.” He tilts head though and hums. “On second thought don’t, I can help you clean that up.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you snatch your clothes out of his hand. Sliding out of bed you march into the bathroom while he whistles after you.

“Jesus christ this is so good.” You say around a mouthful of food. Eddie grins into his fork, cheeks hot with his oncoming blush.

“Yeah?”

You shoot him a look daring him to pick apart his meal. “I’ve never had a turnip before. This is heavenly.”

“Never?”

“No! Especially not whipped!”

He watches you shove a forkful of charred broccolini into your mouth and pretend cry. “I really thought the ribs were gonna win but it’s this fucking broccoli.”

“Broccolini.” He corrects, gently. You roll your eyes and mutter sorry while you dig around your plate.

While earlier had be a spectacular beginning of the night, this is what he looks forward to the most, when he gets to stretch his wings and try new things with dinner for the two of you. Your face always lights up and is swiftly followed by a low growl of ‘oh my fucking god’ when you get first taste. You have yet to give him any critique outside of asking why he was buying you treats instead of making them.

“Eddie, I’m not kidding, this is the best thing you’ve made thus far.” You run your finger around the edge of your plate, gathering up the left over wine sauce. He watches your tongue lap it up off your finger and then watches your tongue glide along the edge of your wine glass, collecting the few remaining drops, momentarily wishing he was a piece of drink ware. “So, question.” You set your glass down pointedly.

“Answer?”

“When are you gonna let me take care of you?” You give him warm look, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“You can totally make dinner whenever-“

“No, that’s not all I mean.” You slide off the barstool and round the corner of the counter to where he’s sitting. You lean your whole body into him, hands toying with the loose curl from his clipped back hair. “You always take care of me. If it isn’t dinner it’s in there,” you gesture over your shoulder to his bedroom with your thumb, “or it’s paying for my nails, or taking me on dates. When do I get to do that for you?”

Eddie sighs and looks down at his plate. He doesn’t want an argument to spool out of this. You’ve touched on it before and every time gotten a little defensive about him always spending his money.

“I get joy out of your joy.”

“Okay, and I’d get joy from taking you out once in a while.”

He can see the resolve in your look, the slight pinch of your eyebrows and it’s been too good of a night. “Alright. Later,” he gives you a look, “we’ll talk about you paying for my nails okay?” He can’t get through without laughing and you push him, grinning. He stands and wraps you up tight in a hug, lips buried in your hair next to your ear. “Seriously, I promise. I’ll think of something.”

“Now though, I want to go out on that balcony and smoke that stupid little pink joint you rolled yesterday.” He points toward the door and you huff into his neck.

“It’s not stupid! The papers had little cherry blossoms on them!”

On the balcony Eddie sits in one of the folding chairs while you drag a pillow out with you to sit between his knees. You both sit in silence, passing the joint back and forth and scrolling through your phones. You hold it up for him when you find a funny video and he runs his fingers through your hair between passes. He stops paying attention to whatever he’s reading when you lay your head against his thigh and place a little kiss on the inside of his knee. You’re engrossed in some article, mindlessly nuzzling into Eddie’s leg and he has to take a deep, shuddering breath.

It’s balmy out, a quick breeze pushing through every so often. He’s full of good food and good wine and good weed, the smell of dinner and your perfume filling the air. Your hair is soft under his hand, a small hum from you when he scratches his nails against your scalp. Eddie has to stop himself, has to bite his tongue from blurting it out. It’s only been two months of on paper dating but he knows it in his gut, deep in his bones.

It’s love in the way you loosely wrap your arm around his calf. Love in the way he gets excited to go to the grocery store with you. Love in the way you sigh under him almost every night of the week.

“You okay?” You rest your chin on his thigh, looking up at him. “You got kind of quiet.”

“I-“ he looks anywhere but your eyes, wide and shining in the light filtering up from the parking lot. “I really like you.”

Your smile makes his insides melt. “I really like you too Eddie.”

He feels like a coward, like is leagues away from how he feels but it’s what he’s sticking to. He doesn’t want to send you fleeing out the front door, not when it’s been a basically perfect night. “I really like spending time with you…like this.” He circles his finger around and you laugh, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh I’m sure you do.” You turn around to face him, kneeling on the pillow and running your hands up under his shirt. Your fingers tickle on their way up to rest on his sides. He leans forward to give you a kiss before you lay your cheek against his sternum. He knows there’s no way you can’t hear his heart kicking up, can feel your hands tighten on him and your sigh through the thin cotton.

There’s a rumble of an old Chevy and Eddie watches Jeff pull through the front gate. He’s only got a few more minutes with you like this before his roommate comes in, but it’ll be enough. Hand cradled against your neck, holding you to him he thinks about all the love just under your cheek and hopes maybe you’ll feel it, even if he can’t say it yet.

(Sacrifice for the read more)

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson smut #Line Cook Eddie #My Work #My Fic

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