#literally just smut

[gay-wh0re-slut]

God Sent

rhea x fem!reader

content: literally just smut, jealous dom!rhea smut with fingering, strap, spitting probably, definitely some degradation and praise, squirting, multiple orgasms with aftercare too hehe but i need it so i’m writing it

You and Rhea had been invited to a goth themed party at a friend’s house. It was easy for Rhea to find something to wear but your closet colors were the complete opposite of hers, so you asked to borrow something. Of course she complies because she loves when you wear her clothes, so you decide on a leather low cut top, a skort with a harness attached at one leg, some fishnets and a pair of her platforms. She wasn’t too comfortable with you wearing this knowing people would be staring all night but she wasn’t one to control how you look.

As soon as you arrive, friends began to hoot and holler at the two of you. You twirled around to show the outfit off with Rhea slapping your ass playfully to show the room that you were hers.

The party was going well, you had many conversations about many things with the friends including wrestling, backstories, and crazy imaginations with the people that were high instead of drunk. Of course you had a few drinks yourself so you were feeling a little tipsy. Rhea didn’t want to drink so that you were both safe going home.

You swayed your hips walking towards the australian on the other side of the room, “heyy baby,” you sling your arm around her waist.

She couldn’t help but notice the people staring at your ass that was barely peeking from under the skirt. She gently landed her hand on your lower back having it slide down to your ass, giving it a slight squeeze eying the people behind you; they immediately looked away. “It’s hard dating a hot girl,” she sighs.

“Mmm, why do you say that?” your words start to become a little slurred.

“Everyone looks at you all the time, you know how that makes me feel,” she grabs your almost empty cup and sniffs, “damn, what’s in that?”

You giggle, “Uhmmm I don’t know, Liv made it. It tastes like juice, so it’s dangerousss,” you boop her nose.

“Uh huh, that’s the last one for you then, love. We don’t want a repeat of last time,” she hands you back the cup.

“Aawwww okay,” you finish the last sip. You let go of her and sway your way to the kitchen for a trash can.

A guy you haven’t met sneaks towards you. He was pretty average looking, toned, and quite short but you could tell he was about to do something he shouldn’t: talk to you.

“Hey sweet cheeks, you here with someone?” he leaned on the counter.

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, her,” you point to Rhea who was already making her way towards you. She was moving slowly knowing that you could handle yourself until she needed to step in.

“Oooh big scary woman, what is she gonna do kick my ass?” he said sarcastically as he laughed.

“Yes, actually,” you couldn’t be more serious.

“Oh I’m sure,” he continued the sarcasm, “but, no seriously though, who are you here with?”

“No seriously bro, I’m with her,” you threw back at him.

“C’mon, baby,” he began to walk around the counter towards you as a strong alcohol smell followed him, “I could make you-”

“Make her what?” Rhea growled behind him.

You caught her eyes and smiled at her devilishly. You loved seeing her jealous, it turned you on more than any alcohol could.

He turned around and looked up at her, his head almost fully touching his back, “make her scream my name,” he said a little too confidently.

“I’m giving you three seconds to walk away before I beat your scrawny ass to a pulp,” she whispered.

People noticed the commotion, but immediately turned away knowing it would end one of two ways: him being knocked out, or him being thrown out.

“Or. What,” he whispered back. He was now standing on his toes and looked more ridiculous than ever.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “You better choose wisely, buddy,” you threw in.

“One,” Rhea huffed, her hands balling into fists.

He didn’t move.

“Two,” you could see her vision becoming red.

Stupidly, he still didn’t move.

“Three,” without hesitation she swiped his legs out from under him, landing on his stomach, she placed one knee on his neck and held his arms back, while twisting his whole body in a way it shouldn’t.

“Wrong choice,” you bent over him, smiling.

“Okay! Okay!” He strained to yell, “I’m sorry!”

“Now leave or I will beat your ass,” she forcefully let go of him.

He scrambled to get up, brushing off his shirt.

“Bye-bye,” you wave to him, as you give him a fake pout.

He quickly left as the crowd watched him leave laughing at him, “he should’ve known,” and “idiot” was heard from the partiers before they returned to their drinks and dancing.

“You okay?” Rhea asked.

“Perfect,” you walk towards her and move to whisper in her ear, “but if you don’t take me home right now and fuck me until I can’t walk, you will never see this ass again.”

And with that, she grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the car with you giggling behind her.

She basically sped home, luckily it was only about fifteen minutes away. The ride home was tough because you were already so uncomfortably turned on that you couldn’t help the squirming in your seat.

Finally, walking through the door, she slammed it behind you, “Bedroom. Now,” she commanded.

You were already on the way and you were basically sprinting. You cross the threshold and wait for your next command.

“Sit,” the tattooed hand pointed at the bed, closing the door as she entered.

You sit.

“Good girl,” she strides towards you then grabs your chin and tilts it up towards her, “you look so good tonight baby.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“You always look so good in my clothes, huh?”

“Yes ma’am,” you squirm under her.

“Too bad you won’t be wearing them for much longer,” she lets go of your chin dragging her hand down to your tits then to the bottom of the shirt, “arms.”

You lift your arms and she pulls the shirt over your head and throws it to the side.

“Scoot back and lay down,” another command.

You do as you’re told keeping eye contact with her the whole time.

“How’d I get so lucky,” she climbs on the bed crawling on top of you, stopping halfway to leave a trail of kisses on your stomach, to your chest, to your neck, to your jaw.

Your hands were gliding up her muscular back and into her hair as she goes until she decided to grab your wrists and pin them down above your head. You huff at her.

“What,” she whispers in your ear, “my poor baby. All riled up for me and you can’t do anything about it. What a shame,” she coos.

“Please, baby,” you try to force your way out of her godly grip but to no avail.

“Uh uh,” she swiftly moved to grab the handcuffs from the side table and clasps them onto you wrapping the chain on one of the many metal rods coming from the headboard, “that’d be too easy.”

“Hmph,” you grump.

She chuckled at your attempt but continued her journey, leaving dark purple marks where only the two of you could see. You’re writhing under the muscular woman, begging for anything more to ease the pressure. Her hands were grazing your skin touching every inch of your torso, gently squeezing your tits as she went. When the hands found the waist band of the skirt, she carefully and painfully slowly, took it off of you, kissing down your thighs.

Once she threw the skirt to accompany the shirt, she took your boots off too. “Wait here,” and she started to walk to the bathroom.

“Like I can go anywhere,” you say under your breath.

She snapped her head around, “What?”

“Please hurry, baby,” you try to cover.

“That’s what I thought you said. Because if you said what you actually said,” she towered over you on the side of the bed and grabbed your face squeezing your mouth open, “it’s not going to be good for you.”

Your eyes were wide but you couldn’t speak.

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

You nod your head frantically.

“Good,” she spit in your mouth and let go of your face, “now be the slut I know you are and swallow.”

You gulp it down and open your mouth displaying your tongue so she could see that you did.

“That’s my baby,” she patted you on the cheek and walked towards the bathroom.

You finally let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. A chill ran through your body as you lay there with nothing but fishnets and a thong.

A few minutes later the raven haired woman comes back wearing her sports bra and booty shorts with a strap.

You gasp at the sight, your heart was beating fast in two places. Your gaze flicks up and down her body, not being able to focus on one thing as she crawls back on the bed. Her hands glided up your legs to your thighs and forced them open.

Your back arched as the cool air hit your dripping center.

“You’ve already made such a mess and we haven’t even started,” her accent was thick and deep.

“It started before we left the party,” you admit.

“Oh?” the tattooed hand grazed your inner thigh, “who made you like this?”

You knew the answer she wanted to hear and you were more than happy to tell her, “You,” you gasp as her thumb barely touched your pulsing clit.

“Mmm,” she began to draw small gentle circles with her two middle fingers, “and what did I do, baby?” She already knew the answer, but she loved to hear you say it.

You could barely form words but you tried your best, “when you…were jealous and you…” your back arched as she added more pressure, “mmmmpinned him down… with your knee and… fuck,” her fingers danced on your entrance waiting to go in but was blocked by the lace. The fishnets wouldn’t be a problem though because they were the wide holed ones and she gave those to you for this very reason.

“You love when I get protective, huh baby?”

“Mhm,” your hips grinding for any possible friction.

“Good, because this,” she moved the lace to the side and easily pushed her fingers inside of you as she moved to be face to face with you, “is mine,” she growled.

You moan loudly as your back arched pushing your stomach into her. Her thighs were holding your legs apart, her hand was easily pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. Her other hand was planted near your shoulders, her baby blues staring into your soul. “That’s it…take it!”

You whined with every push gently bouncing on her hand as she quickened her pace. The sound of you against her hand sent you spiraling.

“God, you’re such a whore,” she pulled her fingers out of you causing a groan to fall out of you, “open,” she demanded.

You open your mouth and she slides her fingers in, letting you taste yourself, cleaning them off.

She pulls them out, “spit,” she ordered and she cupped her hand in front of you. You did as told, then she covered the strap. She readjusted herself, letting the tip barely graze your entrance that was now leaking onto the sheets. “D’you want Mami’s dick, beautiful?”

“Yes, god please,” you try to move yourself down onto it but was restrained by the cuffs.

“Such a desperate lil slut, pathetic,” but she slid it in anyway, guiding it and using your hips as a brace.

“Uugghh shit,” you moan as you take the full length. You felt it widen you, the pain was minuscule compared to the pleasure you felt.

She sat there a minute letting you get used to the size, watching you squirm under her, taking in every movement. Once she thought you were fine, she slowly moved her hips back and forth, pumping the dick in and out, in and out.

“Pleeease Mami, fuck me,” you whimper.

“Do you want me to fuck your brains out, princess?” she halted her movements.

You groan at the sudden stop lifting your head up to make eye contact, “do your worst,” you growl.

A devilish smirk grew on her face. In one swift motion she pushed your legs towards your chest folding you in half, and began to fuck you senseless. The bed was squeaking she was going so hard. You moaned loudly, and continuously as she wrecked you.

“FUCK,” you screamed, the pressure in your stomach was beginning to unfold, “Don’t…stop!”

“Never,” she barked.

Pretty quickly the pressure released as you screamed in pleasure with your eyes rolling back and your hands white knuckling at the rods above you. You breath left your body as it tensed. She quickly removed the silicone from you as you squirted all over the bed. “Holy fuck,” you breathe.

“Oh we’re not done yet, babygirl,” she released you from the cuffs, letting your arms go limp. She flipped you over so that now she was on her back with you on top of her.

You took the opportunity to land a sloppy kiss as you adjusted yourself to straddle her waist. Moaning into the kiss while trying to regain movement in your arms. She sits you back down onto the strap with ease, her hands smack onto your ass then guides your hips up and down to ride the dick.

“That’s it, baby,” her hair was sticking to her forehead from sweat but she couldn’t have looked any hotter, “if only that asshole could see us now, huh? You riding my dick, screaming for me, watching me make you cum over and over again.”

“Fuck…him,” you said between bounces. You sat up to fully ride her, leaning on your hands that were holding her thighs for stability. Your tits bouncing with every movement , so her hands gripped onto them holding them in place squeezing tightly.

“He’ll never know what it’s like to make a slut like you cum, right baby?” she continued.

“Never,” you forced out, “oh fuck.”

The knot quickly built up again inside you, “Mami, please let me-”

“Do it, show him who you belong to, baby.”

So you did and hard, “FUCK, RHEA,” you continued to ride out the orgasm, your legs quivering around her as you buckled over, shaking.

“Good girl,” she praised. You slumped off, lying next to her. “I know you have another one in you,” she sat up and rolled you over. She picked your hips up so you were face down in front of her, displaying everything. “You’re too much of a slut to not.”

She slapped your ass, leaving a handprint immediately causing a whimper to fall out of you. You heard her spit, not feeling it on you, so you assumed it was on the dick.

Your moans filled the room as she plunged into you, tears filled your eyes at the intense pleasure, “God YES… FUCK,” you screamed.

“C’mon baby, just one more. You’ve done so well for me,” her soft tone contrasted with how hard she was wrecking you.

It’s been probably thirty seconds and the pressure was already there. You sneaked a hand down to your clit for added pleasure, circling it lazily. Loud whines made music to the australian’s ears as she smiled wide at the sight of you unfolding beneath her. “Cum for me, baby,” she snarled.

You screamed immediately as the orgasm washed over you, squirting all over the dick once more. She kept pounding into you as long as possible until you let your hips fall sideways having the dick slip out of you.

“You did so well baby,” she crawled to your face and left soft kisses on your sweaty red face, “My lil whore.”

“Only for you,” you forced out as you tried to catch your breath.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she took off the strap and dropped it with a thud. She scooped you up and carried you to the bathroom and set you down gently on the cool counter sending a shiver through you. She started the shower and let it get hot as she helped you peel off the tights and now destroyed thong. “C’mon baby,” as she helped you down and into the hot water.

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #literally just smut

[urlocalfanficwriter]

A little snippet of a smut scene in my book I’m writing. :) forewarning, if you don’t like male on male...probably not the best thing for you to read:)

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“Do what, my love?” He asked with a smirk. “Flirt with you?”

“Yes, you always...” You tail off as you feel his hands come up and remove yours. He places his hand on your chin and turns your head his way. His lips connect with yours in a split second.

Your hands fly up and around his neck, kissing him back.

Cassius stands up, taking you with him. He holds you against him with one hand while the other swipes the plates and platters onto the floor. He sits you on the table with on hand bracing himself. His hand hovers over your crotch, “May I, my love?” He hesitates, waiting for your response.

You let out a low whimper and nod your head.

“Use your words Mi Sol...” he teased.

“Oh god...please...please just touch me already” you begged as you tugged on his hair.

As soon as the words fell out of your lips, Cassius slid his hand into your pants and started palming you through your underwear. “Oh god” he mumbled in between kisses. “You’re so excited already, just from a little touching” he teased and pulled the elastic of your underwear down. Cassius took you into his hand and started to move slowly.

You threw your head back and let out a low moan. Your hands desperately undoing his shirt buttons, exploring every inch of his body. You moan in delight as he speeds up.

Cassius reaches over with his other hand and picks up a stray grape and presses it to your lips. He smiles in satisfaction as you eagerly take the grape into your mouth. He slowly gets on his knees and looks up at you. “Cariño...may I?” He asks with a soft smile on his lips.

You nod eagerly. “Please, just do something! Anything! I’m begging you!” You plead. Slipping your fingers through his long braided hair, you toy with the red silk ribbon keeping it in place. You gasp as he takes you into his mouth. Your head falls back as you scrunch your eyes closed. Another loud sultry moan escapes your soft lips as Cassius sucks a particularly sensitive spot. Your fingers tug on his soft hair. You gasp as Cassius grunts and sends vibrations through your entire body.

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And with that I leave you. Hope you like it”)

#smut #original story #literally just smut #original writing #original male character #original character

[knightchord]

see i cant rb stuff i look at bc im terrified ill be judged im so sorry for being gay

#its smut #like #literally just smut #LMAOOO im sorry #fuck

[aakeysmash]

Katsuki just needs you to lay your eyes on him to get hard.

You can be sleepy and looking up at him with your eyes half open and he gets a boner.

Roughed up in the morning, teeth still not brushed and you just peek at him from one eye before snuggling into his open arms? He’s getting a boner.

Maybe you’re moaning with his food in your mouth while complimenting how good of a cook he is with sparkling eyes, and his blood rushes straight to his dick.

And it’s not always because he wants to fuck you, even if he does have a super high sex drive and would bend you over 4 times a day if you’d let him.

Sometimes it’s just because his heart skips a beat while thinking about how softly only you know how to look at his soul, even behind all his rough exterior.

#this is literally boss!​bakugo from my barista au #just wait until they finally get together amd theyll be like this #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader #bnha #bakugou smut #bakugo fluff #soft bakugou #drabbles

[angellcherry]

— home.

» pairing: jungkook x reader

» genre: fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, nsfw

» synopsis: “show me your thorns, and I'll show you hands ready to bleed.”

» warnings: allusions to depression, brief mentions of self harm (nothing graphic!), a little bit of angst, cuddling, reassurance, jungkook is a big green flag, talks of therapy and healing, confessions, lots of kisses, he's down bad and so in love :( (they both are), pet names, soft!dom jk, slight size kink, missionary bc he needs to look at her and kiss her 😩, praise, dirty talk, choking, creampie, aftercare

His hand curled around the nape of your neck the moment your lips touched. Warmth trickled down your spine, and he titled his head; tongue prodding at your soft lips, like he wanted you down to the marrow. Like he wanted to dip into your soul, kiss after kiss, until he was completely submerged; until he's explored every nook and crevice, felt every bump and crack.

He pulled away from the heat of your mouth slowly, reluctantly, eyes half lidded and dark. Lungs expanding to take in more air, voice coming out hoarse.

"You weren't answering your phone..."

"I know," you whispered, "I'm sorry."

Jungkook shook his head.

"No need to be sorry, baby," he lifted your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on the soft skin there. "I was just worried."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in closer. You sank into his embrace so easily; like you just came home. In a way, you have. He hasn't seen you in over a week...

It may not have seemed like much, but your absence was tangible. Suffocating. Especially when he didn't know if something was wrong.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured.

You turned your head to peck his shoulder, fingers entwining, and then you were walking towards his bedroom as though it was second nature. The change in your demeanor had the corners of Jungkook's eyes crinkling from smiling. You practically skipped over to his bed, hopping onto the large mattress.

"Can I get a shirt, please?"

He didn't think you comprehended how fucking cute you were. He turned to open his closet and began rummaging through it.

"At this point, I'm pretty sure I'd kill someone if you asked me," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing, baby."

Flushing, he ignored the curious tilt of your head and threw you his favorite t-shirt.

God, how could someone be so fucking cute?

You were always excited to nap in his bed, share food and wear his clothes. The fact that it brought you comfort made his already lovesick heart swell up and ache. Something so simple, but so domestic — it fucked with his head. He wanted this every day, in every life. You were his comfort, too. Why couldn't you see it?

He leaned against his closet, arms crossed, watching you slip out of your clothes, the heap landing on the floor. It was art. You were so beautiful; inside and out. He couldn't help the way his stomach stirred and heart fluttered, yet instead of acting on his urges, he just walked over to you and bent down to pick up your clothes.

While you got into his shirt, he folded them neatly and placed them on his gaming chair.

"I missed this bed so much," you sighed.

Jungkook glanced over at you, taking a moment to drink in the image of you lying there, the black cotton of his shirt slightly too wide and too long for your body; but fuck, it looked perfect to him. He bit his lip, making his way to climb onto the mattress beside you.

"What about me?" He asked, delighted by how you opened up your arms, instinctively scooting closer to him.

"Hm, what about you?"

Jungkook pouted, eyebrows furrowing. His arms wrapped around your waist.

"Hey."

You giggled, peppering his face with kisses, and he wished he could live in this moment forever, stop all the clocks, kill time. To hell with what that would do to the universe.

"I missed you, too."

Just like that, he melted. Somehow, it hurt so bad; he had you right there, and yet he didn't. Disappearing and reappearing. Out of reach, like a mirage.

He lifted your hand to his lips again, momentarily distracted by how small it was compared to his.

"So tiny."

Amused at the scoff you let out, he turned it to kiss your palm, then paused abruptly.

A raw shade of red caught his attention.

Narrowing his eyes, he examined the wounds around multiple fingers — or at least tried to, before you caught on and pulled your hand away like you got burned.

His heart dropped.

It's been a while. Why were you doing this to yourself again?

Fuck. He felt like a failure of a man.

He swallowed thickly, then pulled you in closer, as if treading on thin ice. Terrified of making a mistake and feeling it crack under his weight. Once he was under, once it all fell apart, he didn't know if you'd let him in again.

"Baby..." he whispered into your hair.

"I'm so tired, Jungkook," mellow, you answered the question he didn't get to ask. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"Talk to me," he pleaded. "I can't help you if you shut me down."

You sniffed quietly. There was a loud crack. Not in the ice, but in his chest.

"You can't help me either way."

Jungkook tried to lift his head to look at you, but you gripped his hoodie, bunching up the fabric in your hand.

"Baby—"

"Not everyone deserves help," you insisted, a wet sigh following. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I help myself? E-everyone else seems to be doing just fine, a-and I'm just rotting away, filled with these ugly thoughts and feelings, I can't do anything right."

Jungkook hugged you tighter, like he hoped he could mould you together, give you as much of him as you needed to feel whole again. He'd let you rip him to pieces to fill the void.

"Stop saying that," he breathed, his eyes burning, "fuck, stop saying that."

He stroked your back as you cried into his chest, softly, feeling helpless and furious at the same time.

"When you're always in the dark," he whispered, "you learn to make friends with monsters to survive. It's all you know, so it's what feels most comfortable."

He heard you inhale, felt your head lift with hesitation. Eyes swollen, glossy, lower lip still trembling.

Jungkook cupped your face, wiping at the wet streaks.

"When you're always in the dark, sometimes... it feels like it's all you deserve. But it's not your fault. You're not a bad person," he said softly, his thumb rubbing your lower lip. "Sometimes, it's just the monsters you know talking."

You blinked, small and vulnerable, like a child who just woke up from a nightmare.

"I... I don't know..."

Jungkook squeezed your waist, so close his nose almost touched yours.

"But I know," he promised. "I know."

He stared into your eyes, watched them well up with more tears. He wished he could kiss them all away.

"Let me be there for you—"

You kissed him, and once again, it hurt. Because he wanted you, he wanted you so bad, but not like this — why didn't you want him, too?

Outside of the bedroom, when you weren't tangled in sheets, it seemed like you had no interest in letting your walls down. He's spent so much time trying to climb them, only to end up with broken bones, back down on the ground again.

He couldn't do this anymore.

He pulled away from your lips, denying you the oblivion you craved. He wanted to let you use him, he'd do it every day if it meant he could see you again. But he was afraid that if he didn't speak up now, he'd never find the courage to do it.

"I want to be with you," he breathed out. "Why won't you let me love you?"

There was an instant change in your expression that made his stomach lurch.

"I— I..."

A pause, filled with uncertainty.

Jungkook searched your eyes. The windows to the soul, they said. Broken, and the interior was dark. Nothing good lurked in there.

"I love you," he repeated.

His heart pounded in his chest. He stared right into this endless darkness, crawling with insecurities and fear. As though he was hoping the warm whisper would chase away the frigid, haunted air breaking through, make all the other voices come to a halt.

He was no longer a boy, but a man, and he feared no monsters. He wanted to flood the space with light.

"Move in with me," his palm settled on your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. "I'll help with your classes and therapy. I'll take care of you. You can lean on me until you're strong enough to stand on your own. And even then, when you do — I still wanna be there. I wanna make you happy... Every day."

There it was. His heart, right in the palm of your hand, like an offering. Bleeding through your fingers. Willing to be crushed, if it meant at least he tried.

But you cradled it instead.

Fresh tears, sticking to your eyelashes, and then a rush of warmth in the dark. Your lips pressed into his, tender, and he shut his eyes, tasting a mixture of salt and your sweetness —

"I love you," a shaky exhale, right into his mouth.

It sank into him like sunlight, pulsing, nourishing and bright. And he swallowed it up with a kiss, his teeth clashing with yours.

He shifted to hover above you, finding rest in between your legs, goosebumps erupting when he felt your hand slip under his hoodie, inching it up.

A giggle slipped past his lips, and he disconnected himself from you only to take it off, throwing it aside carelessly before he was kissing you again.

He felt you smile. You went straight to his head like wine. Your taste, your scent — your touch, exploring the muscles of his back, his shoulders.

He was already hard, aching to get lost in you; dizzy on want and love.

Hands groping over clothes, wherever they could reach, hot lips trailing down your neck. He wanted to do so many things to you; kiss every inch of your skin, make you come on his tongue.

But you had the whole night — a whole eternity, really. And the way you squirmed beneath him, arching your back, legs parting, hips raising to feel him, urgent and breathy, wiped his mind clean off anything but the need to be inside you.

Jungkook groaned, his cock twitching, leaking precum into the cotton of his boxers. He remained still, however, letting your hand wander in between your bodies.

His eyes were glued to the way it traveled down his tensing abdomen, pausing to lower his sweats; then dipping inside.

He tried to stay quiet, though his chest was heaving, the sight and the feeling of your hand wrapping around his girth making it twitch again.

He watched you pull your panties aside, wet and ruined, revealing your pretty, glistening folds and the small entrance below.

So fucking small.

It looked almost obscene compared to his cock, long and thick and pulsating in your hand. But you fit him perfectly, like you were made just for him.

The moment you guided him forward, and the wet tip touched the heat of your cunt, he lifted his eyes to yours.

He felt so fucked out, but he was gentle as he pushed inside. The tight, wet muscle welcomed him eagerly, inch by inch, until his hips touched yours and he couldn't breathe.

For a moment, time stood still.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, inked hand squeezing your thigh.

"I missed you so much."

He sounded broken, but he's never felt so whole before.

"I missed you too..."

You clenched around him, prompting his hips to move off their own accord, coaxing the most beautiful sounds out of your body. The wetness, the smack of his skin against yours; the soft whines that fueled the heat boiling deep in his gut.

"Mmm," he moaned, raspy, "doing so well, baby."

He tried to stretch you out slowly, preoccupy himself with biting and sucking at your neck; anything not to focus on how you clenched around him.

But he was doomed, and he understood that the second you moved your hips, fucking him back.

"Oh shit," he gasped, "baby..."

He stifled another moan into your cheek, picking up his pace, so deep inside you he wondered if you could feel him in your tummy. The thought alone made his cock throb, every vein and ridge.

Long, ringed fingers wrapped around your throat, the pressure soft, but definitely there. In return, you grasped his shoulders, nails digging in, and Jungkook knew he wasn't going to last long.

"Good?" He breathed, slamming into you a little faster, stuck on your shining eyes and eager nods. "Yeah?"

The mattress began to protest under the force of his thrusts, but the sound was drowned out by everything else. Jungkook felt your cunt tightening, so warm and so fucking sloppy, his own little personal heaven.

"Almost there? Hm? Gonna make a mess for me?"

Clench.

He groaned, his tummy twisting, the moans spilling past your lips making his head spin.

You merely nodded again, as though you couldn't speak. It made the corner of his lips quirk upwards.

"Yeah?" He tightened his hold on your neck, staking his claim with a coo. "My girl's gonna make a mess on my cock? Pretty angel's gonna cream all over it?"

Your breath hitched, thighs beginning to quiver around him.

"Y-yeah," you uttered, breathless, "yours—"

Jungkook's tongue slid into your mouth, his rutting becoming desperate. He wanted to mark you and brand you and oh god — he was about to see stars.

"Yeah, fuck— mine, my good girl," he stuttered out, "oh, baby, mhmm, I'm gonna come—"

His hips bucked as your pussy spasmed around him, sucking his cock in deeper, restricting his movements. Still, he fucked you through your orgasm, letting himself go with a loud groan. A burst of stars, the tension snapping; and he spilled inside you, white ropes of hot cum that filled you up to the brim.

He slumped against you after a drawn out moment, his body thrumming with bliss. Careful not to crush you, however, he rolled over to the side, his arms automatically enveloping your frame.

With his nose in your neck, he waited for his breathing to even out, lazily rubbing your hands.

"So good," he mumbled, "fuck... Are you okay, baby?"

You hummed, snuggling into him.

"More than okay."

Jungkook smiled, opening his eyes and pressing a kiss into your cheek.

"I'll wash you up in a sec."

"In a bit... Stay with me."

"I'm staying with you forever. Good luck getting rid of me now."

Your laughter sent a pang through his chest. He wanted to keep hearing it.

He brought your hand up to his lips, gently kissed each wounded finger, muttering his I love yous and praises until you both drifted off. Sated and warm under the sheets, tangled up in each other; with a single promise echoing through his head.

Never again would he let you hurt like this.

And whatever was happening outside of these four walls hardly mattered.

This was all that mattered.

This was home.

#hi! 👋 #I literally made this blog just to get this fic out of my system lmao 💕 #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts fluff

[shellxrls]

bestfriend!jj x fem!reader and they go to the beach and jj gets a boner from seeing u in a bikini

you’re practically prancing around the chateau with your tits spilling out of your bra, fabric struggling to accommodate and letting fat slip out and crease at the corners.

jj can’t help but go love-struck everytime he sees you, eyes immediately gravitating to your tits while he grows red in the face, letting out a dry cough and blaming it on ‘dehydration’ when he catches john b eyeing him for his pervy behaviour.

“dude c’mon,” john b groans, smacking jj in the chest and redirecting his attention, “it’s like you’ll see anything with tits and you can’t even bother to put it in your spank bank for later, at least have the decency to wait until she’s gone before you bust man.”

“dude, john b, i do not know what you’re talking about, i'm just admiring a beautiful woman right now,” jj defends, holding his hands up and shrugging in surrender.

“jj, you have half a fucking chub right now.”

jj’s head snaps downward, and he rushes to cover his dick, protectively placing two hand over his crotch before staring john b down.

the brunette sighs exasperatedly, “look, bro— you might as well just go jerk one out in the toilet right now, but don’t come back until you’re ready to stop creeping on her.” with that john b turns, dropping his head in his hands and leaving jj to stand there admittedly defeated.

#stop this is literally just a crack drabble atp 😭😭 #i’m giggling right this i have to show u guys the movie clip that inspired me #asks.ᐟ ⋆｡˚𖦹 #;anon #;concepts #jj maybank #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank obx #jj maybank concept #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x you #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank fic #jj maybank one shot #obx jj maybank

[bastardmandennis]

be my daddy

(joel miller x f!reader) | AO3 | masterlist

Summary: Joel meets you and Ellie while on a field trip with Sarah, and then you keep running into each other.

Word Count: 10.4k don't look at me.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only pls!), no y/n, no outbreak! (playing fast and loose w the timeline/ages here shh), mostly plot some porn, fluff and a litte sadness, meet-cute, mentions of grief, ellie is reader's niece, good dad joel!!, slight miscommunication (🤭), phone sex, masturbation (m & f), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie! dirty talk, sliiight daddy kink, breeding kink (no actual babies here i promise). i think that's all, pls let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: dedicating this one to my faves! ty for looking this over @party-hearses @tinycozycomfort and @idolatrybarbie, and for listening to me whine about this forever! and thank you @tinygarbage for the inspo. sorry this took so long- enjoy!

Hell. This must be hell.

Or as close to it as Joel can think: crammed in a school bus with twenty wild, sticky, screechy kids as they rumble along the thirty minute drive to the zoo. The teacher had long ago given up on trying to get them to settle down, resting her head against the bumping window and pretending not to hear every time a kid called her name. He envied her. Anything for Sarah, he reminded himself.

She rarely asked him for anything, but when she’d come to him last week with the permission slip crumpled in her tiny hand, asking him to be the chaperone instead of Tommy or his mother, he’d said yes without thinking. Luckily he’d been able to move around some things at work–perks of being your own boss. He’d move heaven and hell for her–one little field trip was nothing, really, in the grand scheme of things.

A wad of paper hits the back of his head, damp with–shit, that better not be spit–and right when he’s about to turn around and yell at whoever threw it, Sarah slips her tiny hand into his and squeezes. He looks at her big brown eyes, so much like his own, and he settles back into the seat, giving her a smile and reaching around to poke her ribs until she’s screech-laughing. Soon she’ll be too old, too cool to have her dad around for things like this. He stops that thought almost as soon as it pops into his head, swallowing back the sudden lump in his throat.

After what feels like an eternity they finally pull up to the zoo, kids spilling out of the bus as the teacher tries helplessly to wrangle them into one big group. He sighs, then brings his fingers up to his mouth and lets out an ear-piercing wolf whistle. The effect is immediate–every kid stops in their place, staring up at him with wide eyes. One boy opens his mouth to say something, and Joel raises his hand up to stop him.

“Listen here,” he says firmly. “We’re gonna go into this zoo, and y’all are gonna behave. Got it? Means no rough housin’, no yellin’, and no touchin’. Now line up behind Ms. Jackson.”

It’s silent, gears turning in their tiny brains as they attempt to process his words, and then they just–listen. They’re the most well-behaved he’s seen all morning, lining up quickly behind the teacher with only a few shoves–progress. The boy he stopped from talking earlier whispers to Sarah your dad is so cool, and he pretends he doesn’t hear her proud little yeah, i know he is as they walk to the end of the line together.

–

The zoo is–well, it’s what he expected. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all. But Sarah loves it, dragging him with her to the front of the group, listening as she carefully reads the description in front of each display, tugging him down to help read the words she doesn’t quite know yet. They’re not even halfway through the day and she’s already asking when they can come back with uncle Tommy, he’d love to see the monkeys–the ones who’ve been flinging their poop against the walls of their enclosure, to the delight of all the kids and exasperation of the adults–they’d had to bribe them with ice cream just to get them away.

It’s a hot day, the midday sun beating down mercilessly as they make their way slowly through each exhibit, and he immediately regrets the flannel he’d worn. He shucks it off, tying it around his waist and pretending he doesn’t see the teacher watching him. She’s been less than subtle about ogling him during dropoff, pickups, school parties–Julie, he thinks her name is. Maybe Jessica? He doesn’t mind the attention, honestly. It’s been awhile since he’s even thought about trying to date, focused on getting through each day, getting Sarah through each day and making sure she’s happy, carrying the mental load of two parents in one. It’s why he’s been working long hours, the kind of grueling labor that leaves his body aching and sore every day, and when he picks Tommy up in the mornings he just shakes his head at him, tells him you’re getting old, man. And he feels old, most days. So screw him for wanting to have a little fun.

He’s just about to go over to Ms. Jackson and interrupt what is a surely riveting conversation with a group of Sarah’s classmates when he practically trips over a tiny body laying in the middle of the walkway.

“What the f–” He stops himself just in time, swallowing back the curse as he steps back to look at the body on the ground. It’s a little girl, probably about Sarah’s age, laying facedown on the hard gravel. He nudges the girl’s leg gently with his boot, and when she doesn’t move he squats down next to her, groaning as his knees crack.

He’s about to call out for help and then he hears it–a muffled voice rising up from the ground. 

“Can’t hear ya, gotta speak up. You alright?” 

The girl rolls over onto her back, eyes closed as she whispers, “I sa-id, were you gonna say what the fuck?” And then she breaks out into obnoxious laughter, so loud that a family shuffles away from them quickly, side-eyeing the two of them as if he’s responsible for this odd, vulgar child.

“’S not a nice word,” he gruffs, standing up with a groan and searching for anyone around, any kind of adult who’s supposed to be watching this kid. She ignores him, dust covering her sweatshirt and hair falling out of her ponytail as she continues rolling around on the pavement, laughing hysterically. More people are staring now, and he wished he’d just walked away to begin with–now if he does it he’ll look like an asshole. Just great.

He grits his teeth, feels his jaw click into place. “Where’s your parents?”

“Don’t have any,” she says, singsong-y, “Just me and my aunt and–”

“Ellie!” a woman’s voice calls, and the girl perks her head up as a frazzled looking woman runs over to the two of them. She’s wary, looking between them, at the girl–Ellie–laying on the ground, at Joel standing over her. He takes a step back, raising his hands up and attempting to smile. It comes out more like a grimace and she turns her attention to her niece on the ground.

“Come on Ellie, time to go,” the woman says, ignoring Ellie’s protests. He can’t stop staring at this woman, Ellie’s aunt, her pretty eyes, the flush inching up her cheeks. He quickly averts his eyes, not wanting to get caught staring like a creep, looking around for the actual kids he’s supposed to be watching.

“Thank you, uh…?”

“Joel,” he says quickly, sticking his hand out for a shake. She crosses her arms, ignoring his outstretched hand, and he lets it fall to his side.

“Well thanks, Joel,” she says, already distracted by Ellie running away from them to the next exhibit. “I’ll see you around, or whatever.” And she’s gone before he can say anything else.

He thinks about following after her, about getting her number, until Sarah runs up to him, taking his hand and practically dragging him over to see the penguins. It’s not until much later, long after they’re home from the zoo, as he’s tucking Sarah into bed with the stuffed penguin she had to have, that he realizes he never even got the woman’s name.

–

You turn around for one second, just to read one of the information plaques on display, and almost as soon as you turn back around you realize Ellie’s gone. You spin around, ignoring the huff of the woman next to you when you bump her stroller, eyes searching the crowd for her little ponytail. Don’t panic, don’t panic, she’s around here somewhere. 

You wind your way through the indoor exhibits, calling out for Ellie, cursing yourself for not bringing the little backpack leash–you’d assumed that at nine years old, she was old enough to know better than to run off without saying anything. Clearly not.

Right as you’re about to panic and find zoo security–is that even a thing?–you spot her bright yellow sweatshirt in the distance. She’s laying on the ground for some reason, in the middle of the walkway. Her social worker told you she tended to do that when she was feeling overwhelmed, needing to feel grounded (literally), but you’d never seen it firsthand. A man crouches next to her, brow furrowed as he listens to whatever she’s saying. You assume it’s one of the zoo workers, until he stands up and you get a good look at him.

And damn, he’s hot.

In the literal sense of the word–there’s sweat beading along his hairline, running down his neck to pool under his t-shirt, a worn flannel tied around his waist. He’s standing next to her, arms crossed over his broad chest and a deep frown pulling at his face. You want to smooth out the little divot between his brows. And then you realize you’ve been standing there too long, staring at this stranger as he talks to your niece. Who’s still laying on the ground.

Clearly no one’s running to give you any parenting awards.

You call her name and their heads snap up at the same time to look at you. A quick glance at Ellie reveals she’s fine, just dusty and a little scraped up from rolling on the gravel. You hide your sigh of annoyance, glancing at the man and back to Ellie when she still doesn’t move off the ground. You lock eyes and give her your best stare, trying to be authoritative (who are you kidding, right?), and when she stands up you grab her hand–a little too tightly, if the way she immediately squirms out of your grip is any indication. The man is still standing there, you realize, and you flush. He’s probably waiting for a thank you, for making sure nothing bad happened to Ellie because of your neglect.

“Thank you, um…”

“Joel,” he says, deep voice rumbling out. He really is beautiful, dark hair curling in the humidity, hints of grey in his beard. You cross your arms over your chest, embarrassed at the thought of this handsome man seeing you like this, looking like a mess. He probably thinks you’re some shitty parent, not watching Ellie like you should. Too late you realize his hand had been outstretched for you to shake–he drops it before you can say anything. 

Speaking of Ellie–you look up just in time to see her dart off before you can say anything. Shit. You thank the man–Joel, a nice name–and run after her. Later, when you’re home with a glass of wine after putting Ellie to bed extra early with threats of bringing the backpack leash next time, you realize you never told Joel your name.

–

The zoo incident, as Joel’s been thinking of it, hasn’t left his mind in the weeks since. His mind whirls over different options, different ways to try and find the woman from the zoo again. Maybe he could take Sarah back one weekend, and hope she was there again? No, that’s stupid, no one goes to the zoo more than once a year, let alone twice in one month. Not to mention that’d be kind of stalkerish. He keeps replaying the short interaction in the shower, on the way to work, as he goes through his night routine, wondering if the way her eyes lingered on him was just polite curiosity or something…more. He can’t think about that too long, feeling desire burn low in his stomach at the thought of her, the way she’d said his name, her long legs peeking out of the denim shorts, until he’s locking himself in his bathroom, turning the faucet on to hide his grunts as he fucks his own fist and comes embarrassingly quickly.

And when Sarah brings him another class volunteer form one night, this one for the upcoming Halloween party, he feels guilty enough that he signs up not just to bring cupcakes, but to help set up and take down everything at the end of the day. That should earn him enough good dad points for a little while, at least. She’s happier than he’s seen her in awhile, spending the entire car ride home discussing costume options with him.

“Y’think I’m dressing up?” he asks, trying to hide the smirk on his face. She huffs and he can’t hide his grin–she’s so easy to rile up sometimes.

“Dad,” she whines, pushing her bottom lip out in a pout. “It’s Halloween, ’course you gotta dress up. Aren’t we going trick or treating t’gether?”

He steps out of the truck, walking around slowly to open the door for her, hoisting her backpack up with a dramatic grunt as she giggles, running ahead of him into the house, all talk of trick-or-treating forgotten for now. It’s not that he’d forgotten about Halloween, or trick-or-treating, but he knows he’ll be working overtime that night, letting Tommy take her around the neighborhood as slowly as possible so he could rush back home just in time to meet them for the last few houses. It’s what they’d done last year, and the year before, and when he brought it up to Tommy, all he’d said was she’s not gettin’ any younger, you know. soon she won’t want either of us takin’ her out, crampin’ her style. but ’m fine with being the cool uncle, let you be the bad guy. He’d laughed it off, shoving Tommy’s shoulder and rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t help but think about it later. Was he doing his best for Sarah? Maybe she would’ve been better off with her mom–no. That kind of instability is no life for a child. It’s the whole reason he worked himself to the bone, taking as many extra shifts as he could while still making it home on time for bedtime as often as he could. So he could be there for her as much as possible.

The day before the party he leaves Sarah sleeping at home with a smug Tommy parked on his couch eating his snacks, drinking his beer. He finally makes it to the grocery store, mulling over the different cupcake options, hemming and hawing until he sees the perfect thing. There’s one big box of vanilla and chocolate left, thick swirls of orange and black icing on top with a plastic Halloween ring in each. Twenty-four, that should be enough–he can’t imagine that the teacher, or the parents, would want the kids having more than one cupcake anyway.

He’s not paying attention as the woman beside him says excuse me, sorry, and he steps back automatically, holding the cooler door open for her as he wonders what kind of costume he can throw together before tomorrow. The woman steps back, dragging her cart closer to deposit a box of cupcakes in it, and he lets the door drop from his hand with a loud slam that makes them both jump.

It’s her, the woman from the zoo. Holding his tray of cupcakes in her hand, the ones he was just about to grab.

He clears his throat and her eyes shoot to him. Recognition flashes in her face, then something like…guilt, maybe? It’s gone before he can think about it and then they’re both standing in the middle of the aisle, staring, not saying anything. He’s never felt this off, opens his mouth to say something but she beats him to it.

“Joel, right?” she asks with a wide smile. “Small world. What are you–”

“I’m, uh—actually, I was about to grab those,” he nods to the tray of neon frosted cupcakes, “for tomorrow. For Sarah’s party.” 

“Oh,” she says. They both turn to look at the display case at the same time–empty. The last tray of Halloween-specific cupcakes now sits in her cart next to a pack of orange paper plates and juice boxes. Fuck.

“It’s Ellie’s party tomorrow too, obviously. I don’t mean obviously like, duh, but you know. Last school day before Halloween, or whatever.” She doesn’t meet his eyes, fingers curling around the side of the cart. Her nails are painted light blue, chipping in the corners. 

He can’t stop staring–how is it possible she looks more beautiful now, at 9:30 on a random Thursday night in sweatpants and an oversized shirt than she did at the zoo? He catches himself, clearing his throat. Focus on what you came here for.

“Didn’t realize there was only one tray left,” he finally says. She pauses, and then the smile is back, more of a smirk this time.

“Well, Jo-el,” she teases. “Maybe don’t wait ‘til the last minute next time. You might have better luck at the one down the street.” And then she’s gone, pushing the cart away without even so much as a glance back.

He stands there a moment, processing, and then he’s running down the aisle, his own cart forgotten, over to the self-checkout line where she’s bagging up her groceries.

“Wait, what’s your–what’s your name?” he pants. Her eyes are wide as he gulps down air. Thank god the store is practically empty, only one annoyed looking clerk watching the scenario unfold with eagle eyes and a frown.

She tugs the receipt out of the machine, scribbling down her name and number carefully before folding it up and shoving it in his hand.

“It was nice to see you, Joel,” she says. “Good luck with the party.”

And then she’s gone and he’s left standing in the middle of the checkout lane, grinning like an idiot until the cashier asks if he’s okay. He trudges back to the bakery section, settling for a pack of plain purple frosted cupcakes. Purple can be a Halloween color, right? 

–

You don’t expect to hear from Joel after your late-night run in at the store. Of course when you’d seen him again, you looked like absolute shit, sprinting out of bed at the last minute when you remembered that Ellie’s party was the next day. This was her first week in her new school and a new classroom, and even if she didn’t directly say it you knew she was hoping to fit in, make some new friends. She’d been so nervous asking you about the party, crumpling the sign-up form in her sweaty hand with a mumbled you don’t have to, ’f you don’t wanna. You hadn’t seen her this nervous, this vulnerable, since the funeral, and without a second thought you’d signed the form, promising her you’d be there no matter what.

So there you are at almost 10pm on a Thursday night, scouring the grocery store frantically for something to contribute to the party. You figure no one could turn down cupcakes and juice, right?

And then you see Joel, and you’re about to say something, ask him how he’s been maybe, when he mentions that he’s getting ready for Sarah’s party. Who the hell is Sarah? His wife? A girlfriend? You glance at his hands–no ring, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe he’s a commitment-phobe. Yikes. Maybe he’s allergic to metal and can’t wear jewelry. Because let’s be honest, there’s no possible way a man like that is single. So you do what you do best when you’re uncomfortable–leave as quickly as possible with a half-hearted goodbye thrown over your shoulder.

You check out in a daze, the mind-numbing beep…beep…beep of the scanner practically lulling you to sleep. You’ve just put the cupcakes in the bag when Joel comes skidding around the corner, coming to a stop right in front of you, breathing heavily. And when he asks for your number you play it cool, scribbling it down and bolting out of the automatic doors, heart pounding. You definitely don’t stare at your phone all night, or the next morning, so jumpy that even Ellie notices that something is off.

She tugs on the oversized sheet covering her body, trying to line up the cut-out eye holes so she can see, and you take a sip of coffee to hide your smile. “You’re still coming to the party today, right? Cuz I told my teacher you were, but if you don’t want to that’s okay you know–”

“Ellie, Ellie, take a breath.” You take an exaggerated inhale, raising an eyebrow until she huffs and does the same, until you’re both slowly exhaling. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. Grab your sweater, we’re gonna be late.”

You can’t stop thinking about Joel. How his arms fill out every shirt he wears. The way his hair usually curls around his ears but it looked different at the store, pushed back and wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower or something. And that thought leads to imagining Joel in the shower, then you in the shower with Joel, rubbing soapy hands on each other’s bodies until–

This could be a problem.

You even stop at the phone store on your way to work, just to make sure your phone is working, that all your texts and calls are coming through like they’re supposed to. The guy gives you a weird look, turns it on and off and tells you yeah, it’s fine, then charges you $40 for the “maintenance fee.” A humbling experience, to say the least.

Who asks for someone's number and then just doesn’t call? He’s probably busy, you reason, as you pull into the school parking lot. No more thinking about Joel for the rest of the day, you tell yourself. You carefully juggle the tray of cupcakes and adjust the plastic tiara on your head, smooth out the too-short tutu–a last minute costume, but one that Ellie had insisted on, and her smile when you showed her the outfit last night was worth the potential embarrassment.

You shut the car door shut with your hip, shifting the bag of juice boxes back onto your shoulder as you make your way to the front door with the tray of cupcakes clenched in your hand. You’d been to the school once before, right after you learned Ellie was going to be staying with you permanently, had even met her new teacher, but the maze of hallways is just as confusing as the first time. The lady at the front desk is no help, shooing you down the hall as she cradles the phone between her ear and shoulder, typing furiously. Okay…

The walls are covered with artwork, and you stop to look at a couple of family trees made out of construction paper. Thank god Ellie missed that particular assignment. You swallow down the sudden lump in your throat and peer into one classroom that looks vaguely familiar. The door opens with a sudden squeak and you practically fall into the room, trying to keep your balance with everything in your hand. The tiny desks have been arranged into a loose semi circle around the room, topped with various spooky Halloween-themed coloring sheets and markers. A group of parents stand in one corner of the room, mostly moms and–one dad. Interesting. Of course, they all look like they stepped out of a fashion magazine–you tug your dress down and consider taking the crown off before they notice you. No one else is dressed up except the kids, all running around and hopped up on sugar.

“Cupcakes are here!” Ellie cries out to the class, running up to wrap herself around your legs in a big hug. You stumble back against the sudden pressure and Ellie’s teacher quickly comes around to take the cupcakes from you. She’s a nice lady, Mrs. Jordan? Johnson?, you can’t remember, but you happily take her assistance. 

Twenty kids swarm around you all chattering at the same time, to you, to their friends, to the teacher, whoever will listen. It’s overwhelming–your hands shake as you rip open the pack of paper plates, setting them out on a spare desk to try and make the hand-out process go as smoothly as possible. The moms are still huddled in the corner, eyeing your costume, the plastic tiara that’s threatening to slip off your head as you deal out cupcakes, leaning in close to whisper to each other. Your face burns and you want to sink through the floor, slip out quietly while their backs are turned, do anything rather than stand here and serve them as they shit-talk you.

“Need some help?” a voice behind you says.

A too-familiar, male, voice. God please don’t let it be–

It’s Joel, of course, because it feels like the universe absolutely hates you. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans, an empty tool belt slung low around his waist. Perched on his head is a pink cowboy hat, complete with glitter all along the sides. It should look ridiculous, but he wears it well, swaggering up to form an assembly line of cupcakes and napkins. If he notices your hands shaking when he passes you the juice boxes, he doesn’t say anything.

“Thanks,” you mutter. Busy yourself with arranging the already-stacked juice boxes, just so you don’t have to see the pity in his face.

“So this is where my cupcakes went. Could’ve been worse, I guess.” He’s grinning when you look up, dimple deepening the longer you stare at him.

“Hope Sarah wasn’t too disappointed,” you say, hoping the jealousy isn’t obvious in your voice. He passes you a cupcake and your hands touch as you arrange it on a paper plate. 

“Ask her yourself,” he says. He lifts an arm to wave someone over and you definitely don’t look at the little sliver of exposed skin that peeks above his jeans. You prepare yourself to meet the mysterious Sarah, no doubt beautiful and amazing and Joel’s.

Your mouth drops open as a little girl runs up to the two of you, throwing her arms around Joel as he chuckles. There’s a tiara in her curly hair and you can’t help but smile. His daughter, obviously–she’s got the same big brown eyes, the peek of the same dimple that you’ve seen on Joel’s face. She flashes you a big smile. Her front tooth is missing.

“Are you a princess, too?” she asks, pointing to the crown on your head. You step back and give a quick twirl, the tulle of your skirt puffing out as she giggles wildly.

“Sure looks like it,” you tell her. “Very nice to meet you, princess Sarah.”

She gives a curtsy of her own before she runs off to join her friends, all of them looking back and waving at you and Joel. He tips his cowboy hat to them and they screech with laughter.

You start gathering the trash from the table. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Me?” He spreads his arms out, letting you get a good look at the stretch of his t-shirt across his shoulders, the pink hat settled on top of his ruffled hair. “A cowboy, duh.”

“What’s with the toolbelt?”

“Oh, that.” He looks down like he’d forgotten it was there. The weight of it pulls his jeans low on his hips, the black band of his underwear threatening to show when he shifts. “Forgot to take it off on my way here. Cowboys need tools too, right princess?” And he winks.

You’re not sure what to say to that, heat rising to your cheeks–is it warm in here or what? He looks like he wants to say something else, mouth snapping shut when a woman in a pantsuit sidles up next to him, squeezing in between you and forcing you to step back with a little huff. 

“Joely!” she says. Practically screeches, the way your ears are ringing. She completely ignores you. “I’m so glad you could make it today! We–me and the other PTO ladies, you know–we were just saying how it seems like you’re way too busy for us now.” She gives him a fake pout and squeezes his hand between hers. You roll your eyes and straighten the rest of the napkins out so you don’t have to watch her flirt obnoxiously with Joel right in front of you, acting like you’re not even there. 

He slips his hand out of her grasp with a polite chuckle. “Yes, ma’am, been busy. Never too busy for Sarah, though–she asked me to come today.”

“Oh that’s so cute,” she simpers, running her manicured hand up and down his arm. He shifts to look around her, to look at you, still standing there like an idiot cleaning up, pretending your’re not listening to their conversation.

“Janet, I don’t think you two’ve met. This is Ellie’s aunt.” She finally turns her sharp gaze to you, scanning you up and down without a word. You want to fidget, pull your stupid tutu right off, but the warm look Joel gives you fills you with a little bit of confidence as you mumble your name.

“Ellie’s…aunt,” she says, slowly, like she can’t wait to ask the usual follow-up questions. Why are you here? Where are her parents? You nod, give her a tight smile, refusing to elaborate. 

“She’s an interesting girl,” she says, a bright flash of teeth that turns into a smirk. You bristle and Joel, sensing an impending cat fight, reaches around her again to grab your hand.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. Just for you. “Let’s get out of here.” The woman, Janet, sputters and starts to say something else, probably to offer herself up on a silver platter to him, but Joel ignores her, keeping his eyes on you as he leads you out into the hallway, one hand on your back.

“You okay?” he asks. He hasn’t moved his hand. In fact, he seems closer to you than ever. Your breath hitches. If even this random lady can tell you’re not fit to be a parent, what does that say about you?

“I knew people were going to wonder, you know, why I’m here with Ellie. Where her parents are. I just…it caught me off guard, that’s all.” 

He’s quiet for a moment. “Didn’t want to ask, figured it’s none of my business. And if it’s not my business, it sure as hell ain’t theirs.” He jerks his head towards the classroom, where the head bitch of the PTO and her cronies are huddled together, no doubt whispering about the way Joel coming to your rescue.

“Is that right, Joely?” you tease, and he groans at the nickname. He scuffs a boot on the floor and rolls his eyes. 

“Let’s go, before they destroy that room even more.” 

–

You’re loading the leftover party goodies–plus two tired, over-sugared kids–into your respective cars when Joel turns and asks you out.

“Like…a date?” 

He smiles, slamming the back door closed. “Exactly like a date.”

You look at Ellie in the backseat of your car, her once-white ghost costume now covered in sticky frosting handprints and smears of chocolate, and then at Joel, who’s watching you expectantly.

“What about the kids?”

“What about them?” You roll your eyes and push his shoulder. His hand settles over yours, dragging you even closer, until you can count every tiny freckle on his face, each individual lash. He’s so pretty.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he says. “We can get babysitters, go to the movies or somethin’. Haven’t seen a non-Disney movie in the past three years, figure I’m overdue.”

A night out would be nice–even before Ellie came to stay with you, you hadn’t had many opportunities to go out. And when Joel looks at you like that with those big puppy dog eyes, you want to say yes, but then you remember that he didn’t call like he was supposed to, after the grocery store. Insecurity flares up–what if he’s lying, what if he doesn’t want to see you again, what if it’s a trick?–and you do your best to shove those thoughts away quickly.

“I think we could do that.” He smiles, the kind that lights his whole face up and crinkles the corners of his eyes. “You actually gonna call me this time?”

He frowns and then his face lights up in realization. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, barely recognizable under the hundreds of tiny cracks shattering the screen. One corner of the screen is just completely blank when the rest of the screen lights up. Even through the shattered screen, you can tell that his background is a picture of Sarah in her soccer uniform, holding a soccer ball in one hand with a big smile.

“Dropped it at a job site,” he says. “Was gonna get it fixed this weekend, but I’ll go right now. Can I call you later tonight, for real this time?” 

A car horn blares behind you and you both jump. Ellie’s leaned over into the front seat, waving at you to hurry up. And then Sarah rolls her window down, asking Joel if they can please get Chinese for dinner tonight.

“The princesses are waiting,” he says, tipping his hat towards you with an exaggerated wink. He mouths call you later?, and then they’re gone with a light beep and a wave as they drive away.

You’re still smiling when you drive home, listening to Ellie chatter away in the backseat about how fun the party was, how nice Sarah and her friends are, and did you know that she doesn’t have a mom either, just like me? I think she’s my best friend now and that would be so cool, right? A weight is lifted, seeing how easily she’s fitting in at school, how well she seems to be adjusting to life here with you. Maybe you’ll both be okay.

–

You’re laying in bed with the tv low in the background later than night when your phone lights up with a call from Joel. You sit up quickly, clearing your throat and smoothing your hair as if he could see you, before you answer on the fourth ring. Not too desperate, right?

“Hey,” you say. Lean back and stare at the plaster-swirled ceiling, hoping he can’t hear the nervousness in your voice. “I guess you got your phone fixed?”

“I did.” God, he sounds so cool, voice a low rumble through the speaker. “Easy fix, so. Just wanted to say hi.”

You glance at the digital clock on your nightstand, watch as the numbers switch from 9:48 to 9:49. Too early for a booty call, right? Do adults even do that anymore?

“A late night call from Mr. Joel Miller, I feel honored.”

He laughs, a low chuckle that you want to record, hoard the sound in your brain forever. The sound of him shuffling fills the speaker and you freeze. Is he laying down in his room? Sitting on the couch? Shirtless, or in pajamas maybe? Your mouth goes dry picturing his long body spread out on the bed in only a pair of black boxers, whispering your name as he slicks a hand over his hard cock.  

He says your name again, a little louder and you flush with a little hmm? You yank your other hand out from under your shirt where it had been resting against your stomach, inching beneath the band of your shorts as he talked. 

“You okay?” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “Need me to come rescue you again?”

The laugh that bubbles out sounds weak even to you. Just his rough voice in your ear, the warmth of it wrapping around you like a familiar blanket, has a low simmer starting in your stomach. You shift, sheets crinkling, and he inhales sharply.

“And what if I want you to?”

The whoosh of his breath crackles through the speaker and then it’s quiet. You’re about to say something, maybe just kidding, not trying to be weird or anything, when his voice comes through, raspier than before, somehow even deeper.

“Let me tell you what I’d do if I was there with you. Are you wearing anything right now?” You nod and then give him a low mhm when you realize he can’t see you. “Good. Take your pants off, now.”

Heart pounding, you scrape the tiny shorts down your legs and kick them away, shoving the worn t-shirt up to bunch at your collarbones, warmth spreading throughout your body despite the cold air. Your nipples harden and as if sensing what you need, he says go ahead darlin’, touch ’em for me. Your fingers swirl around them, lightly, teasing like you imagine he’d do to you. It’s not nearly enough and you whine. His chuckle is low and slow, voice like caramel as it drips into your ear.

“Yeah that’s it, play with ’em. Can’t wait to get my mouth around them, fuck–bet they’re the prettiest little nipples I’d ever seen.” He pauses. “Defintiely not prettier than that pussy though. You wet for me?”

Since the moment you started talking, you want to tell him, and instead you say, “Yes, of course, all for you. Are you, um, are you hard yet?”

He groans, and you hear him fumble on the other end before he’s back, breathless. “Been thinkin’ about you all day, had to get off in the shower this morning and it still- it still wasn’t enough.” He spits, lets out a sigh of relief as you imagine he’s finally taken his hard cock out from his shorts, flushed and leaking from the lack of attention. You can picture it so clearly when you close your eyes, pinching a nipple and moving your hand lower, to the band of your underwear.

“Joel, can I–”

“Fuck, ’course you can,” he grunts. “Lemme hear you, pretty girl. Tell me how it feels.”

Your finger sneaks down, running through the slick there as you tease yourself, fluttering the tip before slowly sinking a finger in with a low whimper. It’s good but not enough–you wonder if one of his fingers would feel as good as two of yours.

“Not-not enough,” you whimper. “Wish you were here.”

“’S okay, baby, you can do it. Next time ’m gonna be there for you, touch you however you want me to. Wanna get my mouth on you, get that little pussy drooling for me, beggin’ for me to fill her up.” The slick sound of his hand moving over his cock fills the speaker and a whine gets caught in your throat, head spinning as you slide a second finger in, pumping steadily as he listens, telling you what a good girl you are, so fuckin’ pretty, make the prettiest sounds, gonna have you bouncin’ on me next time, you want that? It’s so much, so overwhelming–he’s not even there, physically, but it feels like he’s right next to you, whispering in your ear, coaxing you towards the edge as you rub your clit to the steady shlick shlick shlick of you fucking yourself and him stroking along. Your breathing shallows and he somehow hears it, the little hitch in your breath as you get close, breathing out his name lowly.

“Joel, please, please,” you whine, and he groans in your ear, sounding even closer than before, like he’d shoved the phone in between his shoulder and ear as he worked himself. 

“What do you need honey, tell me,” his voice a rasp in your ear, desperate. “Need me to come over there and fill you up? Gonna stuff you full of me, ’s that what you want?”

Your muscles tense, mind blanking until all you can think about is his voice in your ear, how rough his hands would be on your skin, and you come in between one breath and the next with a low noise and a rush of slick down your fingers. He’s still talking, voice slurred as he chases his own end, the rough slap of skin almost drowned out by his grunts, breathing faster as you tell him to come for you and–he does with a long, drawn out groan. The sudden silence afterwards is almost disorienting, both of you breathing heavily.

“I’m so glad you fixed your phone,” you finally say and you can hear the smile in his voice when he says yeah, me too.

–

The night of the big date finds Joel standing in front of the bathroom mirror, running a hand over his jaw, feeling the overgrown stubble there. Should he have shaved before? Is it too patchy, too grey? He feels so old all of a sudden, anxiety twisting his stomach like he’s some teen picking up his date for the prom. He barely recognizes the face looking back at him, so many new wrinkles and grey hairs, the crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes that crinkle as he watches Sarah sprint past the open door, screeching and laughing as Tommy follows quickly behind. There’s a loud slam from the living room and when he hollers what was that? they both yell back nothing! at the same time. He deserves a night out, he decides.

Tommy whistles when Joel walks in the living room, dodging the shoulder punch Joel throws at him with ease. “Don’t you look spiffy.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, smoothing his wet hair back again. “Thanks for staying, by the way.”

Sarah pops up from the back of the couch, hair falling out of the two braids that Joel had carefully done for her that morning, after she promised that she’d keep them in and not mess them up. He hides his sigh as she runs over to hug him, tiny arms wrapping around him and squeezing hard. He pretends to fall, landing with a loud oof on the couch just to hear her laugh. She squirms out of his grip as he plants a smacking kiss to the side of her head.

“Daaad! Don’t you have to go?” she whines. “We’ll be okay, Tommy said we can order pizza after you leave.”

“Is that right?” He glares at Tommy, who shrugs and holds his hand out expectantly. Joel slaps a bill into his hand and finally glances at his watch. He’s gonna be late if he doesn’t leave right now, pressing another kiss to the top of Sarah’s head with a stern be good. They’re already back at it when he pulls the door closed behind him, arguing over who should be player one this time. Jesus–sometimes it’s like he has two children to worry about.

He navigates the streets carefully, not wanting to get there too early and seem too eager–even though he totally is. It’s been a few days since the late night call, and all he can think about is the little noises she’d made, the way his name sounded coming from her mouth. Heart pounding, he pulls up to the driveway of a cute little house, set a few streets away from the main road. There’s a neon green bike tossed haphazardly on the front lawn, covered in disturbing little alien stickers. There’s her car parked in the driveway. He pulls out his phone to send the I’m here text and decides it’d be better if he went to walk her out. 

The sun is just setting as he makes his way up the stone path to the front door. The porch step squeaks, just a little, and he pauses. Steps on it again, to make sure, listening to the wood groan under his heavy boot. That’s not right. His hand twitches towards a tool belt that’s not there and he huffs out a breath. There’s a rocking chair in the corner of the porch and a sad pot of wilted flowers next to the front door. He presses the doorbell, stepping back and–no answer. He presses it again, just in case, but once again no sound, no one coming to answer the door. He knocks, lightly at first and then more aggressive. And then he’s tackled to the side by something, stumbling back to try to keep his balance. A tiny figure is wrapped around one of his legs, clutching at the bottom of his jeans and growling lowly. 

“Ellie? What the–”

“Fuck,” she finishes gleefully, looking up at him with a crooked smile. She still hasn’t let go of his leg. “It’s you again.”

“It is me,” he agrees. “You gotta stop saying that though, ’s not a nice word. Where’s your aunt?” He knocks again, leaning against the doorframe to keep his balance.

“I think she’s still getting ready. Thought you were the babysitter. I don’t like babysitters, so I’m gonna sit her instead.” She growls again for emphasis. 

The front door flings open, startling both of them. And there she is, in a sweet little dress as she looks from him to Ellie and back again. She rubs a hand on her temple. 

“Ellie, can you please stay inside? Lucy should be here any second, I’m so sorry. Come in?” she tells Joel. He feels like an idiot, can’t think of anything except how beautiful she looks right now in the low light of the porch. Anxiety rises again in his stomach–what is she even doing with someone like him anyway?–but the smile she gives him, a shy little thing, puts him at ease immediately. He walks through the front door, dragging a giggling Ellie along with him, and puts all thoughts of nervousness out of his mind for the night.

–

“That dress looks good on you,” he says, lowly, when Ellie runs off to her room. She yells at him to stay put so she can show him the surprise–her favorite book of jokes, practically falling apart at the edges, dog-eared to the pages with her favorite ones.

You smooth the dress down. His eyes catch on the hem, the hint of bare skin there. His hair is pushed back and a little damp still–you want to smooth out the stray curl behind his ear, the way you wanted to all those weeks ago in the grocery store, but this time you can and you do, rubbing the tiny patch in his beard with your thumb.

“It’ll look better off, I think,” you say casually, just to feel the thumpthumpthump of his pulse under your hand.

Ellie comes skidding in the room before he can answer, already chattering a mile a minute as she tugs at his sleeve, directing him to sit on the couch and listen to her. He goes patiently, listening intently as she flips through to find her favorite joke (“Why did the bicycle fall over?” “I dunno, why?” “Because it was two tired, get it? Because it’s sleepy!”). You could watch them talk to each other all night, the patient way he sits back and waits for her to sound out the words, never trying to interrupt or rush her through her reading. 

Your phone beeps with a text, heart sinking as you see that your babysitter has decided to cancel last minute–something about a concert she’d gotten last minute tickets for. You must make a noise because Joel looks up immediately, brows furrowed.

“Babysitter just canceled,” you explain over Ellie’s cheering and whooping. “I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t have anyone else to watch her, it’s too last minute, should we–?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He’s up in a flash, rubbing his hands over your arms, pulling back to tip your chin up to look at him. “We can always stay here, it’s no problem. Or if you want to try a different day…”

“I just,” you lower your voice in case Ellie is still listening. “I really wanted one night just for me. I know it sounds selfish–I love her, but I’m still trying to get used to it all, having someone depending on me 24/7.”

“Believe me,” he whispers. “If anyone gets that, it’s me. Don’t have to feel guilty for wanting to have fun sometimes. You’re not just a parent–you can still a person, you know?” He holds out his arms and you burrow deeper, pressing your face into his chest, letting the steady rumble of his breathing settle you both. His phone makes a noise, vibrating against your leg from his pocket and he sighs, pulling back just enough to dig it out. His arm brushes your thigh and the little noise you make has him pausing. His eyes are dark when you meet his gaze. 

“Got an idea,” he says. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

He pulls you back in for a slow kiss, the kind that leaves you dizzy when you pull back. “Hey Ellie,” he calls, voice rough. “Do you want to go see Sarah?”

She skids around the corner before he’s even done speaking. “Can I, please please please? We’ll be good, promise, best behavior, pleeeease?”

“Go get your jacket.” She turns around to say something and you stop her. “Leave the hammer at home, you don’t need it.” She pouts and nods–you remind yourself to check her bag before she gets out of the car.

Joel is by the door fiddling with his keys while you get ready, looking at the pictures hung up in the hallway. He pauses on one of your favorites, Ellie with her parents a few years ago, and when he notices you standing there he smiles. 

He looks thoughtfully at the backpack leash hanging from the keyhook. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“We don’t.”

–

It’s a little nervewracking to drop Ellie off at Joel’s house, to watch as his brother come to the door with a wave as she barrels out of the car towards the door. Sarah peeks out from behind his legs and lets out a happy scream when she sees it’s Ellie, pulling her in the door as Tommy waves you off. You wave back and swallow the guilt that’s building as Joel pulls away. His other hand rests on the center console and you grab it, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes once.

“They’ll be okay,” he says, like he can read your mind. “You hungry? I know we missed the movie but we could go at a later time, or just skip it and go to get food. Up to you.” 

He looks so nervous, a light flush starting under the collar of his shirt, his other hand reaching up to scratch at his beard when you roll to a stop. He’s so pretty in the red glow of the traffic light–you can’t stop looking at him. His eyebrow quirks when you don’t answer him right away, turning to face you fully. The nervousness fades away completely when you look at his hand on top of yours, so warm and solid and big, and imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been interrupted earlier, if he’d fuck you with his big fingers if you asked nicely.

“Can we go home?”

“Home?” He sounds disappointed, a little confused, until you reach over and push your hand high up on his thigh, brushing the bulge there lightly. “Oh, home. Yeah, let me–yeah, fuck, of course.”

It’s a ten minute drive back to your house–he makes it there in five.

–

Seeing him here in your room feels surreal, like some kind of dream. He looks out of place here on your flower-print sheets, watching as you pull your dress off, leaving you in just your underwear. You want to pinch yourself, make sure this is real, but then his rough c’mere baby has you crawling over to settle on top of him, the rough denim of his jeans scratching at the inside of your thighs. 

His kiss is rough, a little desperate as he brings a hand up to cup the back of your head and bring you closer. It’s intoxicating and you tug at his shirt, off, off, a little whine caught in your throat when he doesn’t move right away, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck when you lean back. He sucks a mark right on your collarbone, pulling back to look at it.

“Gonna mark you up, make you mine,” he whispers. “You want that? Walk around ’n let everyone know you’re mine, baby?”

You nod, head spinning as he lifts his shirt up from the back, yanking it over his head and throwing it off to the side. It ruffles his hair even more, all wild fluffy curls. He’s so warm, practically burning underneath you as you explore his bare chest with your hands, the sparse hair tickling your palms as you make your way down down down towards the button of his jeans.

“Please take these off, need you to- to fuck me.” 

He flips you over before you finish speaking, hovering over you as you lay flat on the bed. He sits back, pulling you to the edge of the bed as you squeak and then he’s getting up, kneeling on the floor in front of you, holding your legs open with his broad shoulders. He looks up at you as he runs a hand along the band of your underwear, smiling when you push up into his touch, silently asking for more. 

“Let me taste you first, honey,” he coos. “Been thinkin’ about it since the other day–no, before that. First time I saw you at the zoo, you remember that? Thought about asking you to meet me in the bathroom right there, see if you were wet under those tiny shorts you were wearing, all wet for me.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, ducking his head to lick a stripe up your inner thigh and again in the crease there as he slowly–too slowly, what a tease–rolls your underwear down, murmuring good girl, so good for me when you lift your hips and let him pull them off. And then he’s just looking at you, bare and exposed, thumb pulling you open to look at the slick gathered there. Just for you, you tell him and he nods, letting his thumb barely graze your hole but you jolt anyway, so keyed up from the simple touch as he hums, it’s okay baby, you’re okay, i got you. He brings the same thumb up, a quick little swipe on your clit that takes your breath away, clenching around nothing as he watches greedily. He grips your hips in his hand, ordering you to stay put as he lowers himself back down, letting his warm breath fan over you until you’re squirming in his grasp.

“None of that,” Joel says, pressing you harder into the mattress. You can feel the bruises beginning to form there and you like it, the idea of a physical marker of him on you even after you’re done. “Be a good girl for daddy.”

He licks into you slowly with the flat of his tongue, pointing it to catch the edge of your clit on the way up, flicking over and over again as you pant and whine, more daddy please, need you, until he shushes you. One of his thick fingers circles your hole slowly, lightly, the barely-there touch driving you crazy. You reach a hand down to pull his hair, trying to get him to move and do something, anything.

“Touch me, touch me, c’mon,” you pant, too worked up to say anything else and he smiles, a quick press of teeth against your skin that makes your breath catch.

“I am touching you,” he says. He drags a finger up through your dripping folds, ignoring the tilt of your hips up as you try to get more contact. 

“Not fun–ah shit oh shit.” He presses two fingers in without warning, slowly, watching your face as the discomfort quickly turns to more more more. They’re so much bigger than yours, crooking just right to press along the sensitive spot that you can never reach alone. You clench around him, back arching as he rubs the pads of his fingers against the spot slowly, fucking his fingers in and out at a steady pace until you’re dripping all over them, slick running all down his wrist and pooling beneath you on the bed.

It’s so good, he’s so good, whispering in your ear the whole time–you’re such a good girl, letting me touch you, knew you’d have the prettiest pussy–so wet for me, gonna let me fuck you open, honey, can you be good and come for me now? Your breathing stops and when he thumbs your clit again that’s enough to send you over the edge, legs trying to clamp around his shoulders as he fucks you through it until you whine and he pulls away. You’re so empty, so vulnerable and exposed and raw and he lets you pull him up on top of you, licking the taste of you out of his mouth as he groans. His hand is wet when he grabs your jaw, slick smearing on the side of your face as he looks at you.

“Open your mouth,” Joel says and you do without hesitation, sticking your tongue out for his approval. He grunts, watching a string of spit fall from his mouth onto your waiting tongue. “Swallow it.” And you do, letting out a little mmph when he crashes his mouth back onto yours, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck me,” he breathes. “Dirty fuckin’ girl. You want me to fuck you now, pretty girl?”

You nod, yes yes please fuck me, and he reaches a hand down, tweaking your nipple between his damp fingers. “Words, baby, use your words.”

“Need you to fuck me daddy, want you to fill me up, p-please.” His thumb swipes over your nipple again as he soothes you, okay baby, okay, gonna fuck you now, ’s okay. He leans back, shucking his briefs down quickly before he’s hovering over you again, letting his cock rub against you, smearing your thigh with precome as you both groan. He’s as worked up and needy as you feel, shoving his hand between your bodies, the one with your come still clinging to his fingers, and wraps a hand around himself, so close you can feel the brush of the back of his hand against your clit. He slides his cock through your folds, letting the slick coat him, both of you gasping when the tip catches on your swollen clit. You hook an ankle around his back, trying to pull him even closer, and finally he stops teasing, pushing into you so so slowly, holding your breath as he fills you so deeply, your sigh rolling into a moan when he bottoms out. He holds himself there, not moving as you adjust to him–so fucking big–sucking a twin mark above your collarbone as he waits. And when you flex your foot, push it into his ass as you lift your hips up he grunts, fucking in a little at a time, more and more. The slapslapslap of your bodies is loud, almost completely drowned out by your panting.

“You see that? Look, honey, look how you’re taking daddy so well, such a good girl for me.” Your eyes fly open when he snaps his hips harder into you, grinding deep until you’re practically wailing. “Keep your eyes open baby, wanna see you when you–fuck, when you come for me.” 

It’s overwhelming, right at the point of being too much and he notices, rolling your clit gently between his fingers, whispering praise in your ear as he slows his thrusts. When you come it’s a relief, tensing under him as he talks you through it–thaaat’s it, so good for me, daddy’s good girl, such a good fuckin’ girl- gonna let me fill you up, give my baby a baby? bet you’d look so pretty knocked up with my baby, all full of me. let everyone know you’re mine. All you can do is chant his name over and over as he fucks you harder, the squelch echoing in your tiny room, and he finally comes when you say please daddy, fill me up, make me yours, give me a baby please please please–the stutter-fuck of his hips pressing deep into you, giving you all of his come, making sure none of it escapes when he finally pulls out and flops on his back next to you.

“Holy shit,” you say and he snorts.

“You think?” He groans, running his hand through his sweaty hair. “You good with all the…you know. Baby stuff?”

His face is red when you run a hand over his cheek, trying to hide the smile on your face. “Yes daddy, it’s fine. I needed that more than I thought.”

He presses a kiss to your scrunched up nose. “Any time. You don’t really want a–right?”

“Hell no.”

–

Two hours later, you go to pick up Ellie from Joel’s house. Tommy’s grin is wide when you walk in with Joel, both flushed and rumpled. 

“Looks like y’all had fun,” he says. “Girls are sleeping now. That Ellie, man…” you hold your breath, waiting for the inevitable ellie bit someone, ellie threw a shoe again, ellie ran outside to lay in the middle of the road that was sure to come. “...she’s a sweet kid. They had a lot of fun together.”

Your breath whooshes and you thank Tommy again, walking upstairs into what looks like Sarah’s room. At first you don’t see them in the dark, the blue light of the DVD menu flashing on the tv casting an eerie glow over the room. You almost step on them, sprawled out on the carpet, breathing deeply in the way that only small children can, completely oblivious to the world around them. In between them is Ellie’s joke book, propped opened to her favorite page–how did the telephone propose to his girlfriend? he gave her a ring!

And when she whispers your name as you tuck her into bed later, says ’m glad i get to stay here with you, i love you–you can’t help but think the two of you will be alright.

--

thank you for reading! ✨

#this literally killed me whew #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fic #lexi writes things #ok goodnight #shitty summary ik just trust me i guess

[abbysfawn]

HAVE U GUYS HEARD THIS YET?? it’s an nsfw rp audio and it sounds like abby omg holy shit

#like i was literally listening to this in class and when i left i literally couldn’t walk #i recommend doing this in a public place just to punish urself and lose ur composure tbh #like fuckkk omg #abby anderson #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #audio era

[disastersareajoy]

Pussy Drunk Thomas Hewitt - Drabble

Thomas Hewitt x FEM!Reader

Tags: established relationship, cunnilingus, forced orgasms, talk of bruises, wet and messy, squirting, dacryphilia, overstimulation

Word count: 1.1k

fucking obsessed with the idea of Thomas getting absolutely, down bad, pussy-drunk as soon as he gets a taste

like his virgin-ass being too afraid of hurting you to fuck you at first and getting on his knees for you. he gets a taste, kind of pulls back and licks his lips and you can see his pupils dilate and his eyes fucking glaze over and he just falls face first into your pussy

sloppy, wet, spit slick, hungry oral from that man. his teeth bump into you in all the right ways sometimes. one moment he's whimpering into you and the next he's grumbling and trying to get his tongue deeper and deeper into you to taste more

and it does not matter to him when you beg for him to slow down and how you can't cum anymore. because you keep dripping on his face and tongue and making wonderful noises and you just taste so fucking good, how could he stop??

his arms wrap around your thighs and he holds onto them hard and firm and keeps you pulled close to his face. you can feel that it's gonna bruise and you're going to cherish those bruises for days

he doesn't even notice how hard he's gripping you because he's trying to get all of his senses filled with you. he tastes, smells and feels nothing but you. the only thing his ears can focus on are your moans and whimpers. his hands massage your thighs periodically and when he opens his eyes it's just to look at your face, thrown back in pleasure. the only thing better is when you're looking down at him with tears in your eyes, still moaning for him

Tommy is completely drunk off your taste. he loves the feeling of your pussy on his tongue and he loves the little whining groan you let out when he sucks on your clit

now, when he keeps going and going and your hand in his hair trying to push him away finally falls to your side, he doesn't even realize what he's doing next. it's all out of instinct when his hands readjust so his arms stay wrapped around your thighs but his thumbs are spreading open your folds. that's when he really loses it

because he can get his tongue even deeper like that. he can bury it inside you and find the spot that makes you drip a little more and that makes you moan all broken and needy. once he finds it he abuses the fuck out of it. keeps licking over it, poking at it with his tongue and savoring every drop of you that spills into his mouth

and then. his holy grail. you grab his hair again and moan louder. you're sobbing and begging him to slow down because it feels different this time. he doesn't listen of course. all he knows is you're about to do that thing again where he can feel your pussy flutter and twitch and your thighs squeeze around him and your moans get all whimpery

he keeps going until your hips lift up into him. he stays attached to your pussy and keeps doing what he's doing, knowing he can't stop. needs to keep going to get you to do that thing

suddenly you gasp and go completely quiet. then you moan so loud it's almost a scream. a sobbing sort of thing that's absolutely gorgeous to him. on top of that your hips start wildly shaking along with your legs and your pleasure starts gushing out of you

Tommy moans into your juices and gets closer if that's even possible at that point. he shakes his head so he rubs over your clit side to side while he keeps his tongue abusing that spot inside you. and fuck does he get drenched. he swallows down as much as he can of you and whimpers into it. anything he can't get, drips down his face and drenches his shirt and lap

once you come down you realize he's still going and you can't handle it anymore. you start crying more and weakly kicking your legs out which finally makes Tommy look up. he sees your devastated face and while he thinks the sweat mixed with tears and drool, as well as the tortured pleasure in your eyes is a heavenly sight, he listens to your weak pleas

he finally pulls away and you sigh in relief. Tommy stays away from your pussy (as much as he hates it) and spends his time licking your thighs clean. just a minute away from your pussy makes him whimper and look up at you pleadingly. your legs are still shaking and you shake your head at him

so Tommy whines and starts biting your thighs instead, getting closer and closer to your pussy until he's mouthing right next to it. you're shaking and sweating and still losing a coupe tears when he licks flat over your clit once. then your back arches and you gasp, trying not to make too loud a noise

you know if you moan he's gonna start again and you think he might actually kill you that time. he softly licks over your clit again, wraps his lips around it and you slap a hand over your mouth. but Tommy sees your lack of noise as a sign to keep going and starts sucking on your clit. when his teeth graze over it your hand whips away from your mouth to his hair and you yell out a moan that ends with a broken whine

immediately you know you're in for it. Tommy moans happily and grabs your thighs hard once more. he dives into you again and gets back to his sloppy, needy and enthusiastic pace without hesitation. all you can do is moan, whimper and whine as Tommy makes you see stars over and over again

he's obsessed with making you squirt on his face and listening to your whimpers as he tastes you. he loves the feeling of your heartbeat in your clit, pounding against his tongue

sometimes you can't get him off of your pussy until he's had at least a couple hours of his way with you. he's obsessed with your pussy and a single taste makes him entirely lose his mind. he'd do anything to fall to his knees in front of you

he would spend forever between your thighs if it was up to him

your pussy is his paradise and his salvation. every gush of your juices is a baptism of wonder. you are his goddess and he worships you at every turn

#thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #TCM #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #thomas hewitt smut #texas chainsaw smut #DisastersAreAJoyDrabbles #this was supposed to be a short idea #and then i just couldn't stop #Tommy has been haunting me lately and this just wouldn't stop playing over in my mind #if literally anyone wants this idea more fleshed out and an actual fic lmk #will absolutely write it if only one person says yes #ill probably write it anyways #HES HAUNTING ME AND I LOVE IT

[tojisun]

i genuinely cant develop this further but simon fucks you so good and so hard and so much (it lasts for many hours) before every mission because hes scared that this is his last time he’ll get to fuck you. it’s all inadvertent when he got you addicted to his cock and his love-making because, to be honest, these sessions are more for him than for you. his grunts and his pleasured rumbles and his dirty talk? theyre not to make you dizzy with pleasure, theyre to make him cum. he gets so lost in his own euphoria that its truly but an added bonus that you cum with him.

he doesn’t tell you this though

#suns.hc #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #chat do we consider this as asshole!ghost ? #i dunno i just love thinking abt simon using ur body for pleasure #literally *using* #not gentle love making but a fucking bull when he pounds u #im spiralling again so uh feel free to ignore #suns

[vampykween]

love the idea of ghost watching you hehe, as always nsfw mdni thank u

Simon comes home and is surprised when you don’t greet him at the door like you normally do. He figures you’re probably sleeping – always one to nap when you get the chance. The sight he was met with is not remotely what he expected.

You’re spread out in the middle of the bed – looking effortlessly angelic – eyes closed and the sound of your breathy moans permeating the air. You’re fucking yourself relentlessly with your fingers clearly on the precipice of an orgasm, and Simon is quickly debating on pulling his cock out and just watching you get yourself or if he should hold off and join you on the bed.

It’s decided for him when he lets out a deep groan at the sound of you moaning his name – your movements halt immediately and you sit up in surprise.

“Oh my god, how long have you been standing there,” you ask your boyfriend a blush creeping over your face. It was one thing for him to see you like this when the two of you are having sex, but somehow it feels so embarrassing to have him catch you pleasuring yourself.

“Long enough to know you think about me when you’re stuffing your little pussy full.” He’s walking towards the bed now, and he pulls at your ankle dragging you to the end. Your chest is heaving now, he was reigniting the fire that was burning in you shortly before he caught you. His large hand covers the expanse of your throat and slowly treks down the length of your body, stopping momentarily to tweak at each of your nipples. When he reaches the softness of your stomach he stops, leans down merely inches from your face and whispers, “Beg me to fuck you pet, tell me you want me to fuck you far better than your little fingers ever could.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #mic writes #i realize i need to write more smut but like #i literally flip flop betwen blushing and giggling at my screen #like it just feels so silly sometimes writing about dick and balls in my college apartment

[lighteyed]

can it be easy this once? / steve harrington

summary: steve accidentally gives a stupid answer to your honest question. (best friends with benefits pining idiots to lovers, fem!reader)

unedited we die like men & title from the alcott by the national ft taylor swift hehehe enjoy

It started as a means of comfort after Starcourt, when he was bloody and bruised up but you took him home and got closer, closer, closer, until it turned into a mess of blurred lines and panting breaths, lips swollen for reasons other than being hurt, for better reasons, reasons that brought forth safety and relief for the two of you. You both tend to hunger for such things. It’d been good, easy, for a bit there. Lately it’d felt like the intimacy was threatening to choke you. Like you’d never met a form of  closeness you didn’t cling to. And God, did it feel like you were clinging. Craving an unwarranted change. Was it so unwarranted? You weren’t sure, you could never tell.

    The air in his room is hot and sticky with summer, the ceiling fan providing the barest relief, your bare skin providing the slightest bit more. You stare all around his room, taking in all the stark traces of him, though in truth it doesn’t betray much, just as he attempts to. It’s a plain room, plaid walls, matching curtains, his desk messy and cluttered, all the dresser’s drawers slightly ajar like he spent a touch too long shuffling through all his clothes to determine which outfit would be best, which, knowing him in the way you do, he probably did. You knew he wasn’t as secure as he liked everyone to believe. Steve Harrington tried his best, but sometimes you saw right through him.

     Other times he was harder to read. It was probably purposeful, layers of protection built around himself. Don’t love anyone, don’t let anyone love you, and you won’t get hurt. People can only hurt you if you let them. Steve wasn’t letting anyone anymore. Definitely not his parents, definitely not Nancy Wheeler, definitely not random girls who would inevitably end up disappointed with him. He swore it all off. He was a hopeless romantic who never wanted to be in love again. You understood it for the most part. Or you attempted to. It was hard when you were halfway (maybe more than halfway) in love with the guy, in his bed most nights, in his company most days, acting like a couple without being an established couple because he was too hesitant and you were too gentle to be pushy.

    He nudges you lightly, naked chest peeking up from his covers, naked everything else kept firmly underneath. “You okay? You’re quiet.” He sits up so he’s level with you, and you avoid eye contact by leaning down toward the floor to grasp for the shirt he let you borrow, a faded Spider-Man one he insisted was from middle school. You didn’t entirely believe him, but maybe it was just funny, and kind of sweet, to picture Steve sleeping in a Spider-Man shirt and keeping it a secret just for himself. You pull the shirt on over your head, and before you can do it for yourself, he reaches for your hair and takes it out from where it’s caught under the shirt. The familiarity of it makes you flinch. You can have sex with him all you want but God forbid he’s the slightest bit loving outside of that. It confuses you, the softness in the touches that aren’t in bed with him. If he holds your hand in any context other than bringing you as into him as possible while he slips himself in and out, you lose all sense of normalcy between the two of you. You can’t be normal when he’s holding your hand and stroking your cheeks and being kind, soft, adoring Steve, without being your Steve.

     “I’m fine, I’m just…” You reach for your shorts at the end of the bed. Steve watches you get dressed with his eyebrows scrunched together, confused. You’re not usually in a rush to leave after you have sex. Not that he wants you to. He likes that you stay until day sinks into night and he drives you home and waits to repeat it all again. Waits to see you, generally. And it’s not sex every single time. You drag him to see whatever’s playing at the Hawk and he makes you sit with him at Family Video on slow days when it’s just him on the clock and a single tumbleweed blows through the store instead of any customers. He drives you just about anywhere you ask and he lets you put on any cassettes you want in his car even if he hates what’s playing. It’s nice, the friendship part of all of it. If you had to give everything else up and just keep the friendship you’d be willing. He’d be willing. You consider it. “Nothing, just tired, probably gonna head home,” you smile at him over your shoulder before pulling on your socks and it’s half-hearted and he knows it.

    “What? You can sleep here, you know that,” he waves a hand around the room, trying to catch your gaze, but you avoid his eyes again. Descending light slants in through the curtains and envelopes him in gold. He glows, he’s so pretty. His hair is messy from where you heatedly ran your hands through it, but it still looks nearly perfect. The fact that he always looks so good infuriates you.

    “No yeah, I know, I wanna like shower and stuff too, and I left my new book at home and I wanted to do some reading,” you bluff calmly, standing up from tangled bedsheets and roaming the room in search of your sneakers.

   “That Stephen King scary clown book? I’ll take you home and you can come back and read it here, so you don’t get scared,” and he knows you won’t get scared and that you love horror far more than he ever could but he just really, really doesn’t want to be alone. Why would you go when everything’s right here? His parents aren’t home and something about you leaving makes him antsy and desperate. When you still refuse to look at him he feels himself, his confidence, growing smaller and smaller. “Did I- did I do something?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound as pathetic as it does.

   You whip around to face him, finally, finally, and touch a hand to his face. Relief floods through him at the heat of your fingers. “No, of course not, it’s all me, okay? I’m all sweaty and awful.”

    “You look beautiful, I swear,” he squeezes your hand and you feel like you’re drowning. It’s hard to breathe, your chest tight. “Are you sure you’re okay? You can talk to me, it’s me.” He scoots closer, if that’s possible. “You’re one of my best friends, we tell each other everything.” You look up toward the ceiling, inwardly groaning. Best friend.

   “You do this with all your best friends?”  

    “Well, no, Robin wouldn’t touch me even if she didn’t like girls-“ He feels himself starting to grin, teasing smile lilting at his lips.

     “Steve!” You’re laughing a little and so is he as you push his arm back. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

    “What’d you mean, then?” He’s still smiling, that entrancing, deliberately pouty, lazy smile. Vaguely smirky. You don’t know if it’s deliberate, a ploy to distract you, con you into staying, make you less prone to saying what you want to say, but you press anyway, even though he’s making you want to lean forward and endlessly kiss the smirk off his mouth.

   “I just think, I don’t know… you’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

   “’Course not, why, you got other plans after this?” He grins again. You roll your eyes. He makes it so hard sometimes.

    “Steve,” you whine, “I’m so serious right now.”

    “Okay, okay. No, you’re the only one for me.” He means it. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard. “Are you seeing anyone else?” He asks you like it’s the easiest question in the world for him to ask but honestly he’s shitting his pants a little. He’s not sure what’d he say if you said yes, I am, and I think we should end this, which is where he’s assuming the conversation is going. You’ve got we shouldn’t do this anymore written all over you in his eyes and he’s steeling himself for the heartbreak.

     “Does it look like I am?”

     “Does it look like I am?” He repeats back, and he reaches for your hand in that too intimate way of his, takes it all careful and slow. “What’s this about?”

     “I just, I just think, that, you know, I’m not seeing anyone, and you’re not seeing anyone, but we’re sorta… seeing each other, yeah?” You gesture between the two of you. He nods. He’s staring at you very intensely, waiting for you to get your words out. He’s still waiting for you to say you think this whole thing has been a very bad mistake, a miscalculated judgement on your part, you should go back to the way things were, so he’s not expecting what comes out of you next. “Shouldn’t we be, like, official, then?”

     And instead of throwing up all the ways he so badly would love for that to happen, he chokes out, because he’s stupid and speechless, “Official?” And the way he says it, like it’s a curse when it’s only his disbelief that you’d want that with him after all this time, makes you immediately go into panic mode.

    He quite literally sees the way you lose any sense of confidence in your question and he immediately tries to take it back as you stand from his side and start trying to force your words back in your mouth, too. “Fuck, forget I said anything,” you mumble, spying your shoes shoved under his desk where you’d comfortably kicked them off. You hasten to put them on as Steve scrambles up from the bed and starts dressing, matching your frantic speed.

    “Hey, wait, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that-“

     “It’s fine, Steve, I get it, I totally do, this isn’t that for you, it’s fine-“

      “It is, it is-“ but you’re not hearing him, your mind is already elsewhere. It’s in your own bed in the quiet, alone with your thoughts and not with him, mercifully not with him. You need this one mercy, “I’ll drive you home, babe, c’mon, I’ll explain everything, please-“

    “I got it, it’s fine, I’m fine, you don’t have to explain, okay? I got it,” and you don’t just walk out of his house and down the block to yours, you absolutely flee. You take Steve’s heart with you.

      He’s pacing the floor behind the register at Family Video three days and three shifts later, practically clawing at the walls of the place, and Robin is pulling her hair out at the sight of him in distress this way.

     “What did you do?” She finally breaks, flipping her magazine shut.

      “What? How do you know it was me?” He stops pacing. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.

       “You’ve had three shifts and she hasn’t visited one single time. She always visits. And I know I didn’t do anything wrong, because I never do anything wrong, so, what’d you do?” Robin places her hand under his chin and stares at him expectantly.

      He huffs, his hands on hips. “Maybe she did something, Robin, did you ever think of that?”

     “Definitely not,” Robin retorts, waiting for Steve to be serious.

      He deflates. “Okay, it was me.”

      “I know that, now continue.”

      “We were, you know,” he tilts his head down and raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes.

     “Having sex, sure,” Robin bobs her head. A customer in the nearest aisle frowns and shuffles toward a different section further away from the two of them.

     Steve shushes her. “I wasn’t trying to say it so loud.”

    “Having sex,” Robin repeats, louder this time, not bothering to fight back a laugh at Steve’s exasperated expression, “continue.”

      “Well, after that, she started asking if, if I was seeing anyone, which of course I’m not, because, you know, I’m into her, obviously, so I told her I wasn’t, and she said she wasn’t, so she said maybe we should be official.” Steve hesitates to say the rest of what happened. He still can’t believe all he could do when you said the words was repeat them back to you with that stupid look on his face instead of giving you the biggest, loudest declaration of love in a big, messy, pathetic, devoted way, the way he pictures himself when it comes to you, messy and pathetic and devoted, and he replays that moment back to himself all day long, thinking of everything else he could’ve said to make you understand.

    “That’s what you want, isn’t it? She’s all you talk about all day long, you want to be with her, don’t you?”

    “Of course I do!” He snaps, dragging a hand across his face. “But when she said it I just couldn’t get the words out and she got, she got so sad and she left without me being able to explain anything and she hasn’t answered the phone which, yes, I’ve been calling, and I don’t know how to do this.” He’d never been good at school but he knew he’d get a Grade A in Pitiful.

    “Do what? Tell a girl you love her? You’ve been in relationships before, Steve.”

    “I know, but…” he sighs. “I’m different now, like, it’s not as easy anymore, for me, and I- I don’t want her to get hurt, and I don’t want to get hurt, it’s like, everything used to be my fault, and I wasn’t as good as I could have been, and I don’t want to break anything, I don’t want it to get fucked up, because it’ll be my fault, and I can’t do that again. Not to her.” He swallows, the words harder to come by than he would care to admit. “I’m a little… I’m a little in love with her, I think.” This is said quietly. It frightens him to say it out loud. He’s gone over it in his head, those words, so few of them, but they say so much, and it’s scary. He hasn’t said them to someone in years. The last time he did he got so brutally hurt he thought he’d never recover. But he had. So why was it still so scary?

    “A little bit?” Robin teases, but it’s all love for him, truly.

    “Alright, a lot in love,” he concedes. He wants to get used to saying it. He wants to say it to you. For real. Loudly. “I still don’t know how to do this, though. Not anymore.”

   “Come on!” Robin gets up from her stool and places her hands on his shoulders. “You’re supposed to be Steve Harrington. You were using those…” she pauses for a beat and then, “charms,” the word is said with the smallest hint of sarcasm but she persists nonetheless, “on tons of girls in high school and at Scoops! Now whip them out again for our very nice friend that you sometimes go to town with!”

   “When did any of those charms,” he says it with a matching sarcastic tone, “work aside from when I was sixteen and an idiot?”

   “You might not be sixteen anymore but you’re still an idiot, if that helps.”

    “It doesn’t but thank you for the encouragement.”

    “I’m just saying!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up and returning back to her seat. “Putting yourself out there is always gonna be scary, but you can’t let that stop you. You’d actually be an idiot if you let that stop you. Are you just never gonna see her again? No, because you’d go insane. It’s not like what you did was all that bad anyway.”

    “You really think so?” He perks up a bit, needing that confirmation that he isn’t a totally awful and irredeemable person. It’s easy for him to fall headfirst into that spiral of thinking. It was a trap set with the most accessible, perfect bait and he somehow always found himself walking straight into it without stopping to think if he was being fair to himself.

    “You’ve both been in bad spots, you reacted the way you did and she reacted the way she did out of what was most likely panic and embarrassment. She’s definitely not even mad at you. Probably just, again, embarrassed. If you explain I think it’ll all be okay, Steve, I swear.” Robin can’t take much more of this conversation circling around, as much as she loves Steve and wants to be there for him, she would love him even more if he acted on his feelings and allowed himself some happiness for once.  “So do you think you can you, like, maybe go tell her so she can keep visiting us at work? I need more company than just you and Keith and these customers with no taste,” she complains, glaring at the closed door that hides Keith, in all his absolute glory. The customer from before hears her comment and storms out. Robin rolls her eyes.

    “Right, yeah, tell her I love her, tell my best friend I love her,” he frowns, nerves creeping up the back of his neck. “Maybe you could just call her first and ask-“

     “Steve! I am not meddling in your love life like that when you already know everything there is to know!” She throws her magazine at him. “She said she wants to be with you, go be with her!”

    “Alright, alright!” He waves his hands dismissively. He begins to pace again, this time his eyes held to the clock. Robin groans. There’s still three hours left of their shift.

     You’re in your room wallowing, or doing what’d you call attempting not to wallow but failing at it miserably. You haven’t touched a single page of your book, mostly content to just listen to sad records and more or less stare at the wall. It was stupid, you knew, to behave in such a way over some guy. But it didn’t feel like some guy. It was Steve, after all. It all felt deeper than just some guy. You two had been through a lot together, more than most people have been, and if you’d just ruined your friendship with someone you always felt safe, felt at home with, over feelings you couldn’t control and probably would be better off not having, you were going to need some serious therapy.

     It probably was silly of the two of you to start this thing up anyway, you reason, fighting back your urge to do any further crying into a pillow. You try to focus on painting your nails a nice shade of dark blue but it reminds you of Steve’s old Scoops uniform and of that night (and all that nights that followed) so you stop in the middle of your second thumb and grab nail polish remover and start scrubbing away at your finished right hand.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you mutter, the cotton ball in your hand soaked through with blue and your nails discolored and muddy. “I am ridiculous,” you say to yourself, shaking off your wet hand. Your room is filled with the smell of acetone and disappointment. You think about lighting a candle when your doorbell rings. You debate answering it before it rings again. And then again. And again, more frenzied this time.

    You open the door to a distressed Steve. His cheeks are red and he’s breathing like he can’t anymore. He’s not the multi-star athlete he was in high school, he realizes in this moment. “Did you- did you just run here from work?” You ask him, but he’s already too close to you, not answering your question, gazing at you because simply looking isn’t enough and has never been enough. He is gazing. He is flush with adoration. It’s hard not to bloom under that radiance. He makes you want to forget everything and go back to plush lips on hot skin and the quiet contentment that came alongside being with him in those first few months. You back up a little into your doorway but he steps up to you, following your steps. “Where’s your car-“

    “Forget that for a sec,” he says, and you stop talking out of surprise. “Just, just tell me if we do this it’ll be okay, and we won’t be terrible for each other, and we’ll be good,” because he needs to hear it, even if it’s ridiculous and he’s jinxing it before it’s begun he needs to know you’re right there with him. “Like, just tell me it can be easy this once. If you broke my heart I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. ‘Cause I love you. I do. And I want this.” And you get it. He’s letting you get it. He’s letting you all the way in. You realize, flustered and basking in it, that he’s the first one to say those words. That you hadn’t even said them when you posed your first question. But he’s saying them out loud and it’s brilliant and beautiful. He is beautiful.

    It makes you want to weep, the love that swells here, out in the open. “Fuck, Steve, what type of girl do you think I am, breaking the heart of the guy I’ve been in love with since he started sneaking into my bedroom?” He smiles. He glows. It’s so beautifully Steve. Maybe it can be easy.

    When he kisses you, he proves it: the ease, the tranquility. He is fervent and burning. Everything is urgent with Steve. Especially kissing. He captures every bit of you immediately. His touch is light when he urges you out of your doorway and into your living room so he can shut your front door and quit giving the neighbors what he’s sure is the show of a lifetime. It is for him, at least.

#IM JUST GONNA POST THIS NOW BECAUSE I WANTED TO WRITE SMUT BUT I KEEP DELETING IT AND IF I DONT JUST POST AS IS IM GONNA END UP NEVER POSTIN #i feel like the ending is rushed but otherwise i did enjoy writing this immensely! #love you guys<3333 #i will write smut one day but not today i guess! i’m literally at work rn too soo #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things

[carissime]

Is there anything hotter than your fav going, “Aww, baby, I know…” in such a condescending tone as he’s absolutely railing you.

#that’s it #that’s the post #literally just brainrot I get from hearing one (1) voice line #Gojo smut #Geto smut #Nanami smut #Atsumu smut #Osamu smut #Bokuto smut #kuroo smut #Kenma smut #jjk smut #haikyuu smut #whoever else you want my brain is tired

[luvrxbunny]

okay so i had this thought-

i think that miguel gets more emotional during his ruts

more down there 👇

so like although he isn’t painfully rough, he feels bad because he can’t help but be more rough and he gets all like “i’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that.” and you can basically see his tail between his legs (this is the only wholesome thought here)

also he would cry- like tears welling in his eyes and maybe a few down his cheeks- if you figured out that he was rutting before he had to tell you. like you just wake up one morning, go over to him and like start taking his pants off- his resolve is done for. he’s thanking you the whole time you seat yourself on his cock.

and his loads get huge and for some reason he thinks it’s painful or uncomfortable for you so he apologizes everytime he cums but it actually just ends up super erotic cus he’s like

“Oh fuck. I’m so sorry, baby, there’s so much.” and “Fuck, I can’t help it i’m- i’m sorry. Shit”

and he’ll put his hand on your uterus and rub it like he’s soothing you but instead your breeding kink is just going haywire

and near the end it gets worse like even though you guys aren’t technically trying for a baby, he’s just in rut- he treats all your sex like baby-making sessions.

he makes sure your hips are tilted up so whenever he cums it goes straight to your uterus

he keeps his hand on your lower belly the whole time, and all of his “dirty talk” consists of “you’re gonna be such a pretty mama” and “you’ll look so beautiful with my baby inside you, amor.”

i also think you’d wake up to him fucking you while talking to your tummy a whole bunch. and whenever you catch him he actually gets pretty embarrassed and refuses to talk about it

#i haven’t stopping thinking about this man since i saw him #he just screams breeder #like how am i supposed to be normal about him? #and the fact that he’s literally an animal? #B R E E D E R #RAAAAAAAAH #anyway #miguel o'hara spider man #miguel imagine #miguel o hara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel smut #miguel 2099 #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara atsv #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara headcanon #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #just some thoughts

[stxrslut]

just saw these posts about Rafe x reader who gets chronic migraines… as a chronic migraine haver I must add my own little dialogues cause this is cuteee <3

original posts by @diqldrunks & @iminlovebutimkeepinitlowkey

🎀🏩🩰

“you have to actually swallow the pill for it to work baby.”

“but it hurts to swallow.” :(

“hurts more to sit there n’ do nothing.”

🎀🏩🩰

“I can still see the sun.”

“no you cannot.”

“yes i can.”

“there are four blackout curtains. four. you can’t see shit.”

🎀🏩🩰

“I want a sandwich.”

“baby… not right now.”

“why not?”

“wh- why not? cause you’re literally in the process of vomiting right now.”

“but I’m hungry!”

🎀🏩🩰

“this ice pack is too cold!”

“do you want the heat pack again?”

“no. that was too hot.”

🎀🏩🩰

#this was fun #might do a part 2 at some point #I’m literally just going to sleep now mc I’m tired af #lily writes 🌷 #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader