#you gotta hump the boot

[veronicathegoddess]

if she doesn't lick your boots clean after you forced her to edge herself on them...why are you wasting your time on her

#both needs to be done #you gotta hump the boot #then you gotta clean the boot #its very simple #mine #domme thots #wlw

[bevika]

Background rewatching my husband's silly show and the way he says "easy, boy" legitimately gave me a boner

#💬; bev.txt #ok so I clipped & downloaded it so what SO FUCKING WHAT #look I looove domming #but we gotta take turns cos he does shit like that and #sir I am your fuckin dog pls leash me & let me hump your boot while you pet me/coo at me #f/o nsft

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

IV ║ Notch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part III: Edgestitch | Behind the Seams: Part IV | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E, but not that explicit

Summary: While Ellie works her first shift at the Outfitters, Joel drops by yours to return the blouse you left behind at the baby shower. Turns out, there's plenty around the house to keep him occupied until the teenager clocks off.

Warnings: Sexual tension, body insecurity, some language, inaccurate descriptions of gardening, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, undervest supremacy, flirting, dry humping, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!domestic!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.9k

Notes: Once I started writing this chapter in earnest, it came together a bit more quickly than I expected! It's extremely self-indulgent, with plenty of white undervest and belly action because you guys deserve all of that goodness for being the most patient, loving readers a writer could hope for 🥹 Thank you, I love you all! ❤️

Notch – diamond shaped marks that stick out beyond the edge of the pattern to line up all the pieces when sewing the garment. They come in pairs to be matched up.

Joel is sleeping - which is not something that could be said until a couple of months ago.

After the outbreak, sleep as a concept ceased to exist. What took its place is literal ‘shuteye’, either engineered by pills knocked back with moonshine, or a preventative shutdown by his body to avoid total failure, having pushed his physical form to the living limit.

It’s the kind of sleep that is destitute and provides no relief. It keeps the cogs turning just enough that he doesn’t expire, standing in his boots - which, on most days, are not the only things held together by duct tape.

But after the hospital, even that turned out to be too much to ask for. Some nights, the itch for chemical-induced relief got so bad that Joel entertained the thought of asking Tommy for illicit pills, ready to crawl on all fours to his brother’s house two streets down because he was shaking so hard he couldn’t lock his knees. But he didn’t trust him not to tell Maria, and with Ellie in the picture, he wasn’t about to tempt fate.

So instead, he asked Maria to assign him to night patrols. She hmmm’d at his request like she knew something he didn’t, but she humoured him, letting him take the graveyard shift for a couple of weeks straight. She didn’t have to tell him that she could see the way he tripped over his own feet and hear the slur in his voice. She’s too sharp not to notice.

But she didn’t say anything.

What she did do though, was not so subtly wean him off the late-night patrols. It started with a couple of random, last-minute changes, and then the next thing he knew, he was working morning shifts exclusively. When he tried covertly swapping stints with another guy, he showed up at the guard tower at midnight to find his sister-in-law standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her pregnant belly. 

As he trudged home begrudgingly with his head down and her stern reprimand in his ears, he couldn’t help a chuckle. Gotta hand it to her. 

Banished back to his bed, Joel went back to staring owlishly at the ceiling, watching the moonlight slide across the plaster until he knew all the cracks in it with his eyes closed (metaphorically). He’d listen to Ellie snoring away two doors down and marvel at the fact that she somehow still slept like the dead, even after… all that.

And then, one night, it happened for him too.

Admittedly, he ate a bit too much at Tommy and Maria’s - on top of running the town like a well-oiled machine, she makes a mean chicken fried steak - and Ellie had not so subtly plonked a second helping on his plate without asking. He was lying in bed, steeling himself for another long night, when his eyes drooped. The motion was so alien that it jolted him wide awake, but he couldn’t shake the weight that clung to the seams of his lashes. The next time he opened his eyes, it was morning.

Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks. 

It’s nowhere near consistent, and more often than not he wakes up in a cold sweat in the small hours, but in between, he’s sleeping. For once, he’s feeling rested. And it’s a nice fucking break from the relentless exhaustion that he’s convinced is fused into his bones.

He always wakes up earlier than Ellie though. She never stomps down the stairs until he’s already had breakfast, and hers has gone cold.

So on the Saturday morning following the baby shower, with his face plastered into the mattress, body curled around a pillow - old habits die hard - Joel nearly falls out of bed at the banging on his door.

‘Joel! Get the fuck up!’

For one disconcerting moment between sleep and wake, he’s in his bedroom back in Texas. He half expects to look up to see the posters on the wall and the perpetually overflowing laundry basket at the foot of his bed.

Blinking through the urge to close his eyes, the colours fade and he stares blearily at the digital clock on his bedside table. 

7:30.

What the fuck? More often than not he has to drag the teenager out of bed by the ankles, kicking and swearing, at 7:50 to get to school at 8:00.

His knees groan as he staggers onto his feet, grabbing yesterday’s jeans from the floor and pulling them on. He finds a passably clean shirt about five deep on a chair, which he shrugs on over his white undervest. With a grunt, he yanks open the door and heads downstairs on bare feet, frowning at unfamiliar sounds coming from the kitchen.

Joel pauses in the doorway, hands on hips. ‘What do you think you’re doin’?’

Deeming his question unworthy of a response, Ellie tosses him a roll of her eyes over her shoulder and resolutely ignores him.

Shuffling closer, he asks, ‘Are you - cookin’?’

Brandishing the spatula at him, she snarls, ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

He goads her with a smirk. ‘To be honest, it looks like you threw up in the pan.’

Ellie elbows him hard in the stomach. ‘Fuck you, man!’

He grins. There’s nothing like winding her up first thing in the morning. Grabbing the pan, he bins the ruined eggs, scraping off the burnt bits stuck to the bottom. ‘Crack some more eggs, I’ll make ‘em.’

Ten minutes later, in their usual seats at the kitchen table, they tuck into scrambled eggs and buttered toast.

‘Slow down,’ warns Joel as Ellie wolfs down hers. ‘You’re gonna choke.’

‘You hurry up! Can’t be late for my first day,’ she garbles through a mouthful of food.

‘Why can’t you be like this about school?’ he grumbles, then he winces as his teeth catch something crunchy. Picking it out, he gives her a pointed look. ‘Eggshell.’

‘Calcium,’ she shoots back without even looking up, too busy shoving the rest of her breakfast into her mouth, stuffing her cheeks like a chipmunk.

That one word stops Joel in his tracks and hurls him twenty years back in time.

But then Ellie is jumping up and practically throwing her empty plate into the sink, sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor as she dashes out of the kitchen. ‘C’mon, old man!’

Joel smiles, the memory warm like sun on his face. 

He shakes his head, slowly finishing his breakfast - like he wishes he did that day.

They turn out to be fifteen minutes early. 

To his chagrin, Ellie admits freely that she lied about the time so they wouldn’t be late. He’s a punctual guy, thank you very much. He certainly doesn’t need to be schooled by the little brat. 

Joel sits on the stairs, while Ellie has her face squished up against the door, unabashedly leaving smudges on the glass panels as she keeps up an uninterrupted running commentary on every last piece of clothing she can see.

He tunes her out easily, shifting in his seat so that his right ear is to the door. In his hands is the blouse that you left behind at Tommy and Maria’s at the baby shower. He’s been meaning to return it to you, but the week got away from him, and there’s no time like the present.

Considering the state of his knees, he impresses himself with the speed at which he stands at the sound of footsteps on the otherwise quiet main street. Squaring his shoulders, he discreetly pulls on his shirt, suddenly seeing wrinkles everywhere in the fabric, and runs his fingers through his hair, wishing he’d taken another look in the mirror before he left the house -

But it’s Lucy who appears at the bottom of the stairs with her unfailingly sunny smile.

‘Hi, you must be Ellie,’ she chirps.

She eyes Lucy cautiously, lips pinched to one side. ‘Where’s Pin?’

Joel growls. ‘Manners.’

Ellie puts her hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry. I meant - nice to meet you, where’s Pin?’

Lucy beams good-naturedly and fiddles with the lock. ‘She’s off today, and it’s all my fault because I made her work three weekends in a row. You’ll be helping me in the front anyway, so I’ll show you the ropes.’ Stepping aside and swinging the door open, she prompts, ‘In you go now, hon.’

Ellie doesn’t even look back at him, rushing into the shop like a thoroughbred fresh out of the starting gates.

Pocketing the keys, Lucy smiles. ‘Hi Joel.’

‘Hey,’ he nods back. ‘Sorry about Ellie.’

‘Don’t be, I was exactly like her when I was younger. Still am sometimes,’ she jokes. Then with a sly side eye, she remarks, ‘And honestly, you look more disappointed that I showed up than she does.’

He splutters, ‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.’ 

She smirks knowingly, gesturing at the blouse clutched tightly in his left fist. ‘I can pass that to Pin for ya.’

Joel hesitates for just a second, and Lucy bursts into laughter, elbowing him teasingly. ‘The way your face fell! I’m joking, Miller. Relax.’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s fine, guess I’ll give it to her next time she’s ‘round.’

Just then, from the depths of the shop, Ellie gasps dramatically and yells at the top of her lungs, ‘I want thissssssss one!’ 

Meeting Lucy’s eyes, Joel asks, ‘Sure you gonna be ok left alone with her?’

She shrugs. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

He flashes her a thumbs up. ‘I’ll pick her up at three then.’

He’s about to walk away from the Outfitters when Lucy’s voice stops him. ‘Hey, Joel!’

Looking up at the wraparound porch, he raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

‘She lives in the yellow cottage on the same street as the shoe shop. Keep going north, you can’t miss it,’ she says with a two-finger salute and a parting line that he’s heard before. ‘Say hi to Pin for me!’

You’ve always had a soft spot for the turn of the season, when late spring blooms graciously give way to summer buds. The grass smells greener, and the air is pregnant with pollen and nectar. It’s not overly warm yet, but you can feel the intensity in the sunlight, muted only by the early hour. Good thing you’re starting early.

It’s unseasonably warm for June, and the vegetable patch on the far end of your garden has suddenly burst into life. The cauliflower has finally come through after two failed crops in a row, and both the tomato vines and pepper plants are thriving. Closer to the ground, the onion and garlic shoots are patiently waiting to be pulled, and asparagus shoots spear through the earth in tidy lines one after another.

Pulling on a hat and gloves, you get to work.

You’re halfway through the second row of onions when there’s a faint knock on the front door. Even though you’ve only been in the sun for a little while, the coolness inside the house feels like a balm to your skin as you pad inside, peeling off your gloves before reaching for the door. 

Swinging it open, you’re stumped by the sight of Joel Miller on your doorstep.

You haven’t seen him since the party, where you’d agreed on a start date and time for Ellie’s first shift, and -

Since the kiss. 

You’ve felt his absence keenly. You’ve caught yourself loitering on street corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, knowing you’ll be able to spot him just by the way his shoulders swing with his long strides. You’ve kept an ear out for the southern lilt that has chased goosebumps across your skin, or any mention of his name, but all in vain.

Jackson has a habit of growing in size, usually in direct proportion to one’s desperation.

Now that he’s somehow here, you’re aware you’re gaping at him, so broad that his shoulders are blocking out the daylight. Too many years out of practice to count, you have no idea what the protocol is when you next see the man who literally made your knees buckle with just his lips and nothing else.

‘Mornin’, he finally says with a small smile. 

You stammer. ‘H-hello. What, um, I mean, how -’

‘I dropped off Ellie at the shop and Lucy told me where you live,’ he explains, shaking out the blouse in his hands. ‘Thought I’d come ‘round and return this.’

Your palm twitches with the urge to smack yourself on the forehead. Of course that’s why he’s here. 

Taking the top from him, you smile back gratefully. ‘Thank you. And of course, it’s Ellie’s first day. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but I’ve been subbing for Lucy on the weekends for a month straight and I needed a break.’

He waves away your apology. ‘Count yourself lucky. She was just ‘bout bouncin’ off the walls.’

‘Bless her heart,’ you chuckle, breaking off when his eyes flicker over you, as if he’s just registered your very minimalist ensemble of a white cotton tank top and denim cut-offs. Your skin prickles under his scrutiny, flattery winning out against self-consciousness at the deliberate drag of his gaze over you, a thoughtful weight behind it. 

That is until something catches his attention, and you flinch when he peers under the brim of your hat. ‘What -’

Before you can even articulate your question, he’s taken one step towards you, his work boots heavy on your creaky wooden porch. His voice is low but rough around the edges, just the way you like it. 

‘You got some dirt -’ he swipes his index finger firmly on the end of your nose. ‘Right here.’

Your jaw hangs open, then clamps shut, in quick succession, the shell of your ears burning hot at his fleeting touch. Throat suddenly dry, you barely manage to squeak, ‘Thanks.’ 

One day, you will at least try and keep your cool around this man. But alas, it is not this day.

Rearranging himself, Joel leans on the doorframe with his arms crossed and remarks conversationally, ‘You look outdoorsy this mornin’.’

Flashing the soil-stained gloves at him, you try to keep your voice steady. ‘I’m just doing some gardening out back. The vegetable patch needs harvesting.’

He purses his lips at that. ‘Didn’t peg you as the gardenin’ type.’

You don’t know where the bravado comes from, but you swat him on the arm with the gloves and quip, ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’

‘You got me there,’ he huffs a laugh and gestures towards the back of the house. ‘Anythin’ I can do to help?’

The refusal is on the tip of your tongue. You don’t say yes to a whole lot nowadays, other than when Lucy makes you. But then you hear yourself ask, a challenge in your voice that you didn’t know you had. ‘I don’t know. Are you any good with your hands, Joel Miller?’

At the boldness in your words, which you don’t take back, Joel’s eyebrows reach for his hairline. Biting your lip but standing your ground, you watch him grind his jaw as he considers his response. 

‘Why don’t you try me, sweetheart?’

‘Like this?’

‘Wait - slow down.’

A shuffle of hands. ‘How about now?’

‘That’s it. Yes, that’s good. Keep going.’

A raspy grunt. ‘I think I’m almost there.’

‘Yeah, that’s right, don’t stop -’

‘Alright, you ready?’

‘Come on, Joel -’

With one last flick, the knife slices clean through the base of the stalk, and Joel plucks the cauliflower head out of its leafy cradle with a triumphant grin.

‘How’s that for good hands, huh?’ he crows. 

‘I’ll get back to you in the fall when we see if the cauliflower grows back,’ you tease. 

He huffs, squinting up at you through the sun. ‘You’re hard to please, sweetheart.’

You preen at the playful turn of the conversation. If you were a little braver, you’d give him a mischievous wink - but for now, you gesture at the patch. ‘Can you handle the rest? I’ll get started on the peppers.’

He nods. ‘Leave ‘em with me.’

The pepper plants are having a great season, standing at four feet tall and heaving with fruits. You’ve left them alone on the vine for the last three weeks to sweeten, and they have dutifully ripened into a beautiful red. Settling onto your knees, you methodologically comb through the peppers from top to bottom, cutting off each one by the stalks.

It’s a big harvest, half of which you plan on giving away to your neighbours in exchange for their berries and lemons. Some you will cook. Lucy is due to come over for dinner, and she loves your stuffed pepper recipe. The rest you’ll have to find time to roast, skin, deseed and preserve in oil, which will last the rest of the year -

A shadow falls over you, stilling your hands and drawing your eyes upwards.

The sight is familiar - feet planted shoulder-wide by your knees, chin tucked in as he stares down at you, your nose level with the front of the jeans that you picked out for him - you’ve seen it all before, except for one small detail.

Joel is sweating. A lot.

His thin plaid shirt - you’re not sure if you’ve seen him in anything else yet - is sticking to him like a second skin, clinging to the solid outline of his biceps as he holds onto the basket full of cauliflower heads. The sunlight glances off the perspiration dotting his hairline, and the wispy grays that normally curl away from his face have wilted in the humidity. 

There’s a flush under his skin as he swipes at his forehead with his shirt sleeve, and your gaze follows a bead of sweat dripping down the prominent vein on the side of his neck, and into the deep V of his shirt - wait, is that the outline of an undervest that you can just make out underneath -

‘Should I take the cauliflower in?’

‘Um -’ you stammer to a halt, eyes still plastered to the front of his chest, just like his shirt.

He clearly mistakes your gawking for something else, flashing you an apologetic smile at his state. ‘Sorry, I work up a sweat real easy.’

Oh, come on. Now all you’re thinking about is how else he works up a sweat -

Seized by the sudden need to get out of the heat in more than one sense of the word, you rip the basket from his grasp and turn on your heels to sprint into the house with a choked, ‘I’ll be right back!’

You nearly trip over your own feet running into the kitchen, your heart thumping so loudly in its ribcage it feels like the whole house is shaking to the beat. 

And all that man has done is sweat in front of you.

‘Pull yourself together, Pin,’ you mutter to yourself as you tip the cauliflower heads onto the kitchen table. Grabbing a jug from the cupboard, you put it in the sink and turn on the faucet. Watching the trickle of water, you make yourself take three deep breaths. 

Joel’s kind enough to do you a favour, you could at least have the courtesy to not perv on him while he helps you out.

Nodding determinedly to yourself, you pluck two glasses from the drying rack, putting them inside the empty basket that you hook on your elbow, and march back outside -

Only to almost swallow your tongue and drop the full jug of water right at your feet.

Joel’s sweat-soaked shirt is now hanging on your washing line like a white flag, having surrendered to the heat. And just like that, the very image that has been inconveniently seared into the back of your eyes since the party is suddenly before you in all its glory, in the morning sun, out in the open air.

The white undervest stretches over the breadth of him, and if he didn’t look so good in it, you would’ve laughed at the comical way the flimsy straps are clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. Then he bends over to inspect the tomato vines, the bottom of his vest riding up with the movement, teasing a flash of skin above the waistline of the jeans pulled tight over his behind. One big hand reaches out, the outline of his arm flexing as he does, and he palms the bottom of one tomato, testing if it’s ripe for the picking. 

Except in your head, it’s something else he’s cupping with such rapturous attention. 

He doesn’t notice you until he stands up with a low grunt of effort. Pointing an apologetic finger at his shirt, he says, ‘I hope you don’t mind, I’m sweatin’ right through it like nobody’s business.’

You make a noise in your throat that you pass off as an answer, and with shaky hands, pour him a full glass of water which you shove in his direction.

‘Appreciate it, sweetheart.’ He salutes you and takes a long drag, tipping his head back. You watch, transfixed, as the sunlight bounces off the lines of sweat criss-crossing down the strong column of his neck, and the hard bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

Suddenly, you’re parched. But you don’t trust yourself to stay upright, let alone pour yourself a drink.

‘It’s hot today,’ Joel breaks the loaded silence, though it’s possible that it’s unilaterally so on your side.

‘Uh-huh,’ you croak, still holding onto the water jug like a shield.

He peers at you with a touch of mischief. ‘You ain’t gonna swoon or anythin’ are you?’

Probably. And definitely not for the reason he has in mind. 

You attempt a weak smile that may have come off as a grimace. ‘I’ll try not to.’

Reassured, he nods towards the garlic patch. ‘C’mon. Let’s get our hands dirty, sweetheart.’

By the time the vegetable patch has been thoroughly picked and the baskets crammed full, the sun is high in the sky, the morning clouds burned off with the heat.

Joel isn’t the only one who’s sweating through his clothes - your light cotton top is now clinging uncomfortably to your skin, sweat dripping down your sternum and dampening the cups of your bra. You heave a sigh of relief when he helps you move the haul to a shaded corner near the porch where you have an outdoor sink and wheel hose installed.

Emptying the root vegetables into the sink, Joel steps back and casts a critical eye over the rain gutters that line the eaves of your house. Fingers spread over one jutting hip, he leans his weight on his right leg, the stance creating all kinds of angles that are completely unnecessary in this kind of heat.

He points at the leaves and branches that are clearly sticking out from the channels, but you’re only really interested in studying his large hands. The bumps and veins on the back of them, the watch with the broken face on his left wrist, the dirt coating his thick fingers, pushed under tidily trimmed nails. The logical thought that follows is how he would leave dark streaks on your white top when he pulls you in by the waist - 

‘Looks like the gutters need cleanin’,’ Joel declares. 

Well, the gutter your head is currently dunked in can certainly do with a good scrub.

‘Rainy season doesn’t start for another few months, they can wait.’

He uh-uh's sternly. ‘I’ve heard that before. Do you have a ladder?’

‘You really don’t have to -’ you protest, but he won’t hear it.

‘It’s no big deal, I’m sweaty anyway,’ he replies. ‘Besides, you’ll be doing me a favour keepin’ me occupied. I don’t pick Ellie up till three.’

You bite your lip. ‘But I feel bad working you so hard.’

Without skipping a beat, he winks. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart - I like workin’ for it.’

Jesus Christ. This man needs to be locked up and the key thrown to a colony of clickers.

The inner contractor in Joel comes out to play as he climbs deftly up the extension ladder propped up against the eaves, gloves on and a tarp bag tied to the top rung for collecting the debris. Discreetly, you shuffle around the freestanding sink so that you have a clear view of him as you turn on the water and start washing the dirt off the onions.

He’s starting close by, just a couple of feet away from you, patiently scooping out the dead leaves and twigs by the handful. Up on the ladder with his side to you, you’re eye level with the swell of his belly, which stretches the seams of the vest, and the underside of it peeks out every time he reaches up for the gutters. Your cheeks warm with the memory of how the soft folds felt against you, so warm and solid that you ache to reach out, push the flimsy vest up and nuzzle the tender skin with your nose -

It takes you a couple of minutes to realise that you’re not even pretending to be washing the onions anymore, the hose running in your idle grasp as you stare, head cocked to one side.

You don’t hear him when he turns to you. ‘Can pass me the hose?’

You stare dumbly back at him. ‘Huh?’

‘The hose, Pin,’ he repeats, a playful condescension in his smirk, like he knows exactly what you’ve been looking at. ‘That onion looks sparkly clean.’

You’re not sure what happened. One second you’re holding onto the hose with the intention of turning off the water before passing it to Joel, but your brain skips that crucial first step, and the next thing you know, you’re pointing it straight at him, spraying him in water from face to chest.

As he splutters, you shove the hose into the sink and screech, mortified. ‘Oh my god! I’m so sorry!’

You watch in horror as the water trickles from his hair, down his stubbled chin and onto his chest - okay, that’s a lie. It’s definitely not horror that’s twisting in your tummy and then much, much lower between your thighs.

And if you thought this man looked good sweaty, well - you’ve seen nothing yet.

He might as well put you out of your misery and take off his undervest right about now. It’s completely see-through, pebbled nipples and the firm ridges of his pecs showing through the wet fabric, rounded out by the endearing soft pouch of his belly. 

He wears the early summer tan so well, and for the first time since the outbreak, you think about the swim club in your old neighbourhood. Watching the water drip off his skin, it’s not a stretch to imagine this man pulling himself out of the pool after a quick dip to cool down, before stretching out on a sunlounger to dry in the sun - all in slow motion, set to the track of a corny sax riff.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say on reflex, but the apology rings hollow with the way your gaze lingers over his chest, and he notices.

He chuckles, carding one hand through his wet hair to slick it back, standing taller under your eyes. ‘As I said - never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’ 

Joel takes his time, clearing out all the blockages and hosing the gutters clean so that you don’t have to worry about them for another six months. He dumps the leaves and sticks in the compost post, rinses the soiled gloves and his hands clean, before taking his shirt off the washing line and heading into the blessed shade.

He finds you in the kitchen, back to the door, putting away clean plates and cutlery from the drying rack, porcelain knocking together and metal clanging.

This is the most he’s seen of you, in a tank top and shorts, bathed in light spilling in from the large windows that open out into the backyard. He sees touches of your workshop right here in the kitchen - dried herbs and seasoning in mismatched but tidy boxes on the shelves, knives organised by size on a magnetic knife block, plates and bowls arranged in neat stacks behind glass cabinets.

Not wanting to alarm you, he deliberately scrapes his shoe on the tiled floor to make his presence known.

Whipping around - and just a touch startled - you smile with a quiet hey, and Joel’s not sure if he’ll ever get over how the sweet shyness still clings to the curve of your lips despite the fact that he’s kissed you right there.

He stays by the door for now and says, ‘I put the ladder back, and the gutters are all done, but I spotted some shingles missing on the roof while I was up there. I’ll come back to fix ‘em some other time.’

‘Thank you so much Joel, but really, don’t worry about the roof. You’ve done enough.’

‘You basically got Ellie outta my hair every Saturday for the next few months, so I’ll have plenty of time to kill,’ he half-jokes.

A comfortable lull sets in, and he looks up at the ticking clock, surprised that it’s almost noon. Shifting his feet, he opens his mouth and is about to excuse himself when you blurt out, ‘I’m sorry I soaked you.’

The jury's out on who's more taken aback by your phrasing. Exasperated, you groan, ‘I did not mean to say that.’

Joel’s kept a respectful distance since he arrived at the house, the pliant weight of you in his arms and your taste on his tongue kept firmly at bay in the back of his mind, not wanting to bring up anything that would make you uncomfortable in the light of day. But now, he pushes himself off the threshold of the door and crosses the cosy kitchen, pleased that you stay put when he plants himself in front of you, toe to toe.

Brushing a finger under your chin so that you’re staring up at him, he deliberately pitches his voice low and gruff, the double entendre almost crude in its delivery. ‘Just so we’re clear, you can soak me any time, sweetheart, in any way you want.’

Your lips part and your gaze darkens, and he feels his body instinctively react, invisible threads reeling him bodily into you. When you speak, your voice quivers, his name at once a single-worded reprimand and a needy whine that takes him right back to his brother’s spare bedroom. ‘Joel -’

‘Yes, Pin?’ he baits you playfully, just like he did that night, taking one last step so that you’re crowded against the countertop, bookending you with his palms planted on the wooden surface.

Finally shedding that last bit of shyness holding you back, you retort with no real bite, ‘You’re such a tease, Miller.’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,’ he quips easily, his attention on your mouth. He hears your shaky intake of air, the whole moment suspended on tenterhooks as you skirt each other on the brink -

Just then, a breeze drifts in from the open window above the sink, providing instant relief from the humidity that hangs heavy in the air. All of a sudden, he’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s sweaty all over, so much so that he might actually smell. 

Self-conscious, he clears his throat and murmurs ‘I should probably go, I need a shower and a change of clothes -’

‘You can shower here,’ you interrupt, stumbling over your words in your haste. ‘I have a spare shirt somewhere.’

You don’t need to ask him twice. 

He smiles. ‘Sounds good, sweetheart.’

Your ensuite bathroom, like what he has seen of your house, is clean and organised. There’s a neat stockpile of soap bars in the cupboard, and he spots the familiar bottles of regulation shampoo and toothpaste that the town mass produces.

The water is plenty hot as he efficiently lathers himself top to bottom and front to back, but the pressure is a bit weak for his liking and can be easily fixed. Something else to add to the list.

The towel you left on the rack is soft and smells like the sun. Patting himself dry and rubbing it through his hair, he wipes away the condensation off the mirror above the sink. He peers at his reflection, ruminating that it’s time for a shave, and pushes back his wet hair so the strands don’t get in his eyes.

Out of his clothes, only his jeans are passably dry, so he forgoes his boxers and pulls them on, carefully doing up the zipper. Using his shirt as a sling, he bundles up all the dirty clothes and opens the bathroom door.

He catches you coming into the bedroom as he steps out, and your jaw drops at the sight of him in just his jeans before you slap your palms dramatically over your eyes, the tshirt you’re holding onto covering your whole face and muffling your voice. ‘I’m so sorry! I should’ve knocked!’

Joel chuckles at your reaction. ‘Sweetheart, it's your house. And I’m not exactly naked.’

Lowering your hands sheepishly, you still clutch the tshirt to your chest like a security blanket, admitting, ‘Sorry, I just - I just realised I’ve never had a man in here before.’

Something wraps itself around his stomach and pulls, and it takes him a beat to put a name to it because it’s been so long. It’s possessiveness that rushes through his veins and goes straight to his head, and he has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep his voice from wavering. He demands, ‘Never?’

‘Never.’

He lets the word wash over him, appeasing the beast in him for now. With a slow nod, he takes three measured steps towards you, stopping just an arm’s length away. Gently coaxing you to let go of the purple tshirt, he snorts at the huge Lakers logo blazoned across the front. 

He quips, ‘I’m more of a Longhorns fan myself, actually.’

The tension cracks, and you grin back, ‘Well, not anymore.’

After your confession, it’s probably redundant, but he wants to hear you say it. Flashing the tshirt at you, he asks, ‘Old boyfriend’s?’

It’s the most personal question that’s been exchanged between you so far by a mile, and it’s probably none of his business, but you can’t explain why your pulse spikes at the way his normally warm gaze hardens with something unfamiliar.

‘No,’ you answer. ‘I keep some of the stock here when there’s not enough room at the shop, that’s all.’

Joel rasps, ‘Good.’

With that one syllable, his shoulders visibly relax, suddenly drawing your attention to his topless form, which you’ve been too mortified to actually look at. It’s a lot to take in, and even though you’ve seen most of him already, there is one conspicuous part that you haven’t yet -

But before your eyes can trail that low, Joel turns. ‘Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll just -’

You’re slow to catch onto why he trails off in the middle of the sentence, still far too distracted by his general state of undress to notice until he’s already made his way to the top of your neatly made bed. And then you see it…

The flannel peeking out from underneath the duvet.

Oh. Fuck.

With an almost flippant flick of his wrist, Joel peels back the corner of the bedspread. Wordlessly, he stares down at the red plaid shirt he lent you at the baby shower, tucked snugly in your bed, buried half under your pillow. 

He stares at it for so long that you interrupt the silence for once.

‘I’ve been meaning to return it,’ you squeak, hands flailing awkwardly, desperately wanting something to hold onto. ‘I just - forgot.’

Joel half-turns to you, arching an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been keepin’ it in your bed?’

Backed into a corner - and you’re not proud of it - you lie. Outrageously. ‘I don’t know how it got in there.'

He picks up the shirt by the collar. It’s wrinkled all over and obviously worn in. He smirks, ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

You’re this close to swivelling around and making a break for it, but as soon as your axis of balance tilts backwards, Joel grabs you by the wrist and pulls you in, hauling you firmly into his bare chest.

‘You’ve been wearin’ it to sleep, haven’t you?’ he asks in a tone that brooks no argument. 

Your fingers curl into his chest, his skin blazing warm under your palms. There’s no point fibbing anymore, and you admit, ‘Yes.’

His voice is hoarse when he asks, ‘You wear anythin’ underneath it, sweetheart?’

You hold your breath for one long moment, the tension in the room swelling so quickly that your ears pop. Eventually, under his patient yet heated stare, you shake your head, lips sealed.

His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, and you feel his grip on your hips tighten.

‘No bra?’ he prompts.

‘No bra,’ you parrot back.

His jaw clenches so tightly that you’re surprised he manages to articulate his next question. ‘No panties?’

‘No panties -’

You barely get the word out before Joel is kissing you, pushing the syllables right back into your mouth until you swallow them with a whimper.

And then he’s pulling back, growling against yours, ‘And what do you do naked in my shirt, hmm?’

You stutter, ‘I - I think about you -’

An undignified squeal escapes you when he suddenly spins you around, your back hitting the bed, denying you the chance to catch your breath. The ceiling fan turns directly above you, but it does nothing to quell the heat between your bodies as Joel clambers over you on his hands and knees, sliding his mouth over yours again in a hard kiss.

You always thought your bed was a decent size, but now, with the bulk of this man hovering over you, you’re not so sure anymore. His ridiculously wide shoulders fill your entire field of vision, and even though he’s holding himself up with his forearms by your ears, you can almost feel the full weight of him through sheer anticipation of his touch. 

His heated words brush by your ear, making you shudder. ‘Tell me what you think about, sweetheart.’

‘Your arms, your shoulders -’ you hesitate, dropping your voice shyly. ‘Your belly.’

Joel looks taken aback. ‘My belly?’

You duck your head almost guiltily. ‘Yes.’

His brows draw together in an endearingly confused frown. ‘Why?’

‘That time in the workshop, when we met, you were sucking it in so hard you could hardly breathe - but you don’t anymore.’

The dots connect, and his lips part in an oh. ‘I didn’t even realise.’

‘I know. That’s why it’s sexy,’ you point out.

He looks at you incredulously, as if you’ve lost your mind. ‘My belly is sexy?’

You grin. ‘Yes, and your confidence. You walk differently now, you know.’

He makes a noise at the back of his throat, a self-satisfied smirk tilting his lips upwards. ‘You been watchin’ me?’

‘Maybe,’ you tease.

You exhale long and heavy through your nose when he sucks delicately on your bottom lip, opening you up so that he can dip inside, stealing a taste of your tongue with his. 

‘Been thinkin’ about you all week, sweetheart,’ he whispers, trailing fire across your cheek and the hollow behind your ear. 

‘I haven’t seen you around at all,’ you whine, tipping your head back as he nudges the tip of his proud nose down your throat.

‘I know, it took three fuckin’ days to clean up after the party,’ he complains, his disgruntled tone prompting a giggle from you. ‘Never again.’

‘I’m not so sure about that. There will be plenty of birthday parties to look forward to, Uncle Joel -’

An open-mouthed kiss on the side of your neck catches you off guard, the unfamiliar texture of the wet suction and scrape of his teeth jolts you clean off the mattress, sending you body slamming into his ribcage.

Joel hums, pleased at your reaction. ‘So sensitive. I’ve barely touched you yet, sweetheart.’

It’s immediate, the shame that burns under your skin at his remark despite knowing he doesn’t mean anything by it, and Joel frowns at the way you stiffen under him. Regret colours his words as he cups your cheek. ‘Pin, I’m sorry, that came out wrong -’

‘No, that’s the thing. You’re not wrong,’ you interrupt with a shake of your head. There’s no point denying it - you’re a grown woman, and there’s something fundamentally embarrassing about losing touch with that part of yourself over the years. ‘I - it’s been so long, I don’t even know my own body anymore.’

His eyes dip downwards and slowly, over the curve of your breasts and the arch of your back. With an encouraging smile, he argues, ‘I’m not sure about that. Looks like your body’s reactin’ perfectly to me.’

Your lips twitch despite yourself. ‘You’re just saying that to get into my pants.’

He takes the unexpected turn in the conversation in stride and runs with it. ‘Trust me, sweetheart, if I were tryin’, I’d already be in them.’

‘You’re such an ass, Joel Miller.’

His roguish grin has you squirming and fisting the sheets underneath you. ‘I dunno. Somethin’ tells me you like it.’

Wrapping one palm on the back of his neck, you drag him into you again, relishing in the weight of him as he pins you to the bed with the broad frame of his shoulders. He moans into your mouth, claiming it with deep strokes of his tongue, while his calloused palms sneak under the hem of your shirt and pull you into him by the small of your back.

Even as your hips buck, begging for friction, Joel holds back, propping himself up on his knees to keep a tenuous grip on his self-control. Pulling back from your lips with a wet pop, he assures you through heavy breaths, ‘We can stop any time, sweetheart. Just say the word.’

Your response comes fast and sure, but he can read the hesitance between the lines, ‘I - I don’t want to stop.’

He presses a patient kiss to your lips, but backs away before you can deepen it. ‘How about this - we’ll flip you over so that you’re on top, and you decide what you want to do. Is that ok?’

You pause to consider his proposal, sliding your tongue over your bottom lip - he’s this close to kissing you right there and then. You ask shyly, ‘And it’s ok if we - you know, just make out?’

He smiles. ‘I can do with some good old-fashioned neckin’.’

‘Ok then -’

You yelp when Joel turns you over without warning, the sudden movement making your head spin. Sitting up against the headboard, he drags you in his lap and asks, ‘Alright?’

You nod with a nervous smile. It’s intimidating, being so close to him that there’s nowhere else to look but into his thoughtful eyes that are watching you for any signs of discomfort. Catching your breath, you settle into the moment and realise that you’re straddling him, hands clinging onto his shoulders, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. His belly is warm and soft where he’s pressed up against you, but lower, nudging insistently between your legs -

Joel is hard.

The revelation robs you of air, want and need rushing like blood to your head, and you stiffen, not knowing what to do.

Joel catches on - you’re beginning to think that nothing ever escapes him - and he reminds you, ‘Just kissin’, ok, sweetheart?’

Snapping out of your freeze frame, you nod, ‘Yes. Ok.’

Giving you somewhere to start, he prompts, ‘Where do you want my hands?’

Tugging on his wrists, you watch his jaw go slack when you place his palms squarely on your ass, where your denim shorts hardly cover the top of your thighs. He lets out a lewd moan at the way your soft curves fill his hands, fingers squeezing and kneading greedily, and you push your hips back into his contact. 

‘Not so shy after all, hmm?’ he rasps.

You preen at his praise, and riding the wave of boldness, you tip forward and press your lips to Joel’s before you could overthink it. Over the roar of blood in your ears, you hear him suck in a shaky breath, and you feel the deep groan in his throat taper into a whimper when you swipe your tongue into his mouth.

You’re completely unprepared for the power the sound unleashes in you.

Somewhere in your consciousness, a door is cracked open, and memory crackles at the edges of your mind. Each shuddered breath shared, every slide of skin on skin, brings to the surface what you thought you’d forgotten. 

Your fingers burrow into the still wet locks at his nape, earning a loud moan from Joel when you pull on the grays that have distracted you on more than one occasion. He nips his way sloppily down your neck, trailing spit and beard burn as he goes, while your palms skate over his chest and down, down, down until your fingernails drag over the pliant folds of his tummy, hanging over the waistband of his jeans.

‘Sweetheart,’ he groans brokenly at the contact, forehead knocking into yours.

Spreading your fingers over soft flesh, you choke on an inhale when he bodily rocks into your palms. Your thumb catches the hollow of his belly button, fingers tenderly squeezing the creases and dimples of his belly. His eyes crack open under tightly knitted eyebrows, vulnerability etched in every line on his face.

Something shifts - something that neither of you can take back. And suddenly, it’s not just kissing anymore.

Caught somewhere between writhing instinctively under his touch and a deliberate pursuit of friction, your hips find a rhythm that has the seat of your panties quickly twisting and dampening as you grind on the erection straining against the zipper of his jeans.

Blunt nails bite into your thighs as Joel growls, ‘Shit, sweetheart. That’s it.’

You want to bury your face in his neck, feeling too wanton in the way you’re panting in needy whimpers, but he preempts that on no uncertain terms. ‘I want to see everythin’. Look at me.’

You do just that - you can’t deny this man even if you tried - watching him watch you with his pupils blown wide and wild, wetting his bottom lip the same time his eyes drop to your tits, as if he can see right through the thin fabric. He doesn’t touch you anywhere else though, his hands staying where you put them. You can feel his grip dig harder and harder into the swell of your ass, but he doesn’t try to change your rhythm, giving you free rein to ride him any way you need.

When your peripheral vision starts to go, you know it’s not a coincidence that your thoroughly soaked panties shift and strain against your clit, pinching it just so that you cry out, hips faltering.

Joel bares his teeth, and you feel his hips rut upwards into you, his restraint slipping. ‘There you go. You’re close, aren’t you?’

You can only nod, frantically grinding into him now, your whole mind narrowing until the only thought that remains is chasing that high that you can almost taste. Everything swells, electricity fills the air, his name a sacred chant on your tongue as you claw at his back, teetering precariously on the brink of something that promises to devastate you.

‘Joel, Joel, Joel -’

He catches you when you break - you fling yourself at him, knocking into him so hard that the back of his head hits the wall, but he doesn’t even flinch. Tucked safely into the crook of his neck, you whine and wail as you thrash in his hold, and his nostrils flare at your scent. He can smell you, he can smell the slick leaking from your pussy, humid and heady in the air between you, making his mouth water as he aches to taste you - all of you. 

One day.

Right now, the hinge of his jaw almost cracks as you milk the last remnants of your orgasm with a needy swivel of your hips, rubbing against his cock at an angle that makes his vision swim, and he knows he’s too far gone. His control slips like shifting sands, and a primal instinct takes over as he bucks roughly into you, fingertips leaving imprints in your skin that you will feel for days after.

‘Oh fuck, sweetheart, wait, I’m - shit, I’m gonna -’

When it hits him, it’s fucking relentless - he cums and cums until his voice goes hoarse with your name, until it feels like his abdomen would cave in and collapse, spurting and spilling until it feels like he’s turned inside out. It goes everywhere, thick, milky strands filling the gaps in his jeans and sliding down his legs in a sticky mess, and he slumps bonelessly into the headboard, panting against your lips as he catches his breath.

Sweetly, gently, he tilts his chin up just enough to kiss you, his nose nudging your cheek intimately when he pulls away, his lungs too deprived of air to keep going. He winces when you shift above him, knowing that you can feel the wet spot pooling under your bare thighs.

Joel breaks the sluggish silence first, cracking a grin. ‘So much for just makin’ out.’

You clumsily climb off his lap and crash land sideways onto the mattress. ‘Is that a complaint, Joel Miller?’

He drapes a heavy arm over you and pulls back you flush into him. ‘Well, these jeans are fuckin’ ruined. I want a refund.’

‘I’m afraid we don’t accept cum-stained returns. Store policy.’

He pffts. ‘Damnit. Should’ve read the fine print.’

You grin. ‘Well, at least there's something deeply poetic about cumming in the jeans that I picked out for you.’

‘Touché, sweetheart,’ he grunts and presses a kiss to your forehead. Glancing down at the unmistakable wet patch on the denim, he asks hopefully, ‘Any chance you got some pants I can borrow?’

Ellie bounces her leg irritably, hunched over on the stairs exactly where Joel was sitting this morning. Where the fuck is he? He’s twenty minutes late, and he had the nerve to get all huffy when she lied about the start time today. Unbelievable.

Moodily looking left and right, there’s still no sign of him. She’s about to give up and wait for him at home when something conspicuously purple comes to a stop in front of her. 

Her jaw hits the floor.

‘Oh. My. God.’

She’s never been high before, but she’s pretty sure this is the stuff hallucinations are made of.

This being Joel Miller in a purple tshirt with a tacky logo she doesn’t recognise printed on the front and khaki cargo shorts that cut off at the knees, holding a basket of vegetables that she’s pretty sure he doesn’t eat.

With a roll of his eyes, he snaps, ‘Shut your mouth, you’re trappin’ flies.’

Pasting on the most obnoxious grin she can muster, Ellie croons, ‘Man, don’t you look pretty.’

Turning on his heel, Joel starts walking without looking back. ‘Shut up.’

Jogging to keep up, she cackles, ‘Hey, did you fall into a wormhole and went shopping at a farmer’s market in 1999?’

‘Shut up.’

‘You really should wear shorts more often, y’know, show off those knees. And purple really is your colour, Barney!’

Joel frowns, shooting her a sidelong glare. ‘How the hell do you know who Barney is?’

Ellie shrugs. ‘What do you think they teach us at school?’

He’s the one who starts it. The quake in his shoulders would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but nowadays, there’s not much that he can hide from her. As usual, she giggles first, which trails into a squeal when Joel gives her a shove on the back, sending her stumbling over her shoes.

‘Fuck you, man!’ she snickers and basically rugby tackles him, but he barely budges, lips pulling back into a toothy grin. 

Across the street, unbeknownst to the pair, Tommy smiles to himself as he watches his big brother laugh, really laugh - the kind that has him doubling over and gasping for air through watery eyes. For the first time since the world ended, he looks up at the sky with a reassuring nod, and he knows deep down - Joel will be just fine.

Notes: You guys continue to blow me away with your support - I cannot be more grateful for all the reblogs, asks and interaction with my silly Behind the Seams posts and random updates. Thank you so so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what you think ❤️

I will be having a think over the next few weeks about where Seams will go from here. This chapter wraps up the first mini story arc, and I'll be dedicating August to wrapping up my Palomino series, so it will give me some time and distance to mull over what's next for Joel and Pin. I'm also a few followers away from a big milestone, so I might have something fun planned! 🥰

#fuckyeahseams #seams iv #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine

[ohbo-ohno]

Johnny being allowed to fuck but not cum all week because he pissed simon off, he tries bargaining with reader at one point to just - ease the cockring off , simon won't notice it'll be fine. Reader doesn't even have a chance to consider it before Johnny ripped out of her and is muzzled because bad dogs need to keep quiet

hm. you shot me dead with this one. like. what am i supposed to do with myself now?

1.4k of smut below the cut. cw: rough puppy play, itty bitty tiny second of cbt, edging/denial, simon is real real mean to johnny

something about johnny being in trouble and not being allowed to cum in you but trying anyway.... oh he's horrible

maybe this is after he was a little too rough with you (like that ask where he fucked up your wrist, or something similar) and he's in deep shit with simon. not only is he allowed to fuck you, simon makes him fuck you at least once a day. lines up behind johnny and moves his hips for him, doesn't even let him thrust on his own, guides every tiny little twitch. tugs him out right at the last second, makes johnny watch as he comes inside you. spends the whole time calling him bad, says if he could just learn to fucking listen for once he could mount you properly

johnny spends the whole week in misery. guy can barely sit down, he just wants to hump fucking everything. simon tells him he can't sit on the furniture when he's so drippy :( makes him sit on the floor instead - or he can let you clean johnny up, but no coming. does he want to be edged again or kneel between his legs like the mutt he is?

jacks him off in the shower in the morning, stopping right before he comes. leaves him crying and makes johnny wash his hair. has you cockwarm him for a bit, to make sure he stays completely hard. makes johnny eat you out til you're nearly knocked out, jacks him off slowly and stops every time you come.

he's nearly done with his punishment when he fucking breaks. it's a night simon isn't meant to be home until after midnight. you'd gone to bed earlier than johnny, wake up to him at you back, nose nudging your cheekbone and hard cock thrusting against your back.

"just gonna- just gonna fuck you, bonnie, 'k?"

"johnny?" you murmur, still half asleep. "but... simon said-"

"simon isn't fucking here," he snarls back, and you feel his bared teeth press against his shoulder. "he won't know. i'll be quick, ok, lass? just gotta... gotta cum, then you go back to sleep, yeah?"

"johnny," you'd whine again, getting a little squirmy in your spot as you feel his hands work at his own dick, then feel him start to slide in without any prep. "john- ow..."

"hush," he breathes heavily in your ear, hips already starting to work. you can feel how quickly his heart beats against you back. "i'll eat you out after, just let me... just..."

he doesn't speak after that, and neither do you. he's fast, needy, you can tell he's only gonna last a few minutes. you're still half-asleep, lost in the comforting warmth of your blankets and pillows, can't do anything but lay limp like a doll for him and relish in the pleasure.

you don't hear simon come in. one minute johnny is thrusting away inside of you, the next he's being ripped off, a sharp yelp coming from his lips followed by a long drawn out whine.

"bad fucking boy," you hear simon snarl over your shoulder, the sound of a slap echoing through the air. "you that fucking lost in your instincts, dog? can't think with nothin' but your dick - you see a pussy and fuck it, that's it huh? can't even listen to a simple command from your master. useless mutt."

you turn your head to the side, sleep clearing from your head at the sight of johnny crumpled to his knees, simon tall and proud above him. you can see the shine of tears on johnny's cheeks with the little light from the doorway.

"simon- simon-"

"no," simon's tone is merciless, his boot coming to rest on johnny's rock-hard dick and pushing down. "that's not what bad boys get to call me."

another whine, a plaintive "master..."

you see johnny's hips work a little, tiny thrusts against the sole of the boot. simon's scowl grows, backhanding johnny with bruising force and sending him sprawling to the floor. "why are you speaking? dogs don't fucking talk."

he stares down at johnny for another moment, both of them taking great heaving breaths. finally, he sighs loud and angry. "fine. i was going easy on you, mutt, was tryin' to be nice. but clearly you don't deserve nice."

he stalks over to their closet, yanking open a drawer you know holds the mean toys - the ones you don't like nearly as much as the others. he grabs something silver and shiny, storm back over to johnny and hauls him up by the hair.

johnny scrambles to follow, but simon doesn't give him a chance to stand. just drags his weight to the bed, throws him onto his back nearly on top of your legs.

you squeak a little, simon's aggressive energy something you're not entirely comfortable being so close to. you curl your legs up, folding into a little ball against the pillows as you stare at the two of them with wide eyes.

simon glances over to you at the sound, eyes softening behind his mask immediately. "oh, love, you're not in trouble. you couldn't stop the mutt from fucking you, huh? don't worry. we'll get him punished and i'll take care of you."

johnny whines again and starts wiggling around, eyes squeezed shut as his hips desperately thrust, looking for any sort of sensation. simon's attention slams back to him, a growl rumbling from his throat as he cups johnny's dick in one hand.

"gotta get you soft, dog," he growls, and you see his hand moving around a bit until he's got johnny's balls in a vice-grip. "the ring wasn't enough for a horny bitch like you, we'll see how you like the cage."

johnny's past words, can only writhe on the bed with little animal noises slipping past his lips. simon doesn't give him any leeway, doesn't give him comfort when he starts to sob a little, just keeps squeezing.

once he's apparently soft enough, simon is quick and methodical about locking johnny's cock up. almost impersonal.

"there," he grunts when he stands up to stare down at johnny. he lands a slap to johnny's dick, gets the smaller man jolting and crying out. "in your cage now. you're not sleeping in bed with us people until you prove you can handle it."

johnny hardly struggles as simon forces him to his knees, kicking at his side to guide him to the crate looming in the corner of the room.

just moments later simon's at the bed with you. he tugs the mask off now (knows you like it sometimes, but also knows it scares you a little - rarely wears it outside of punishments) and crawls on top of you, hands soft and slow as he coaxes you to stretch out back on the bed.

"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low and just for you. "you're a good girl. can't help what the mutt does, huh? i know, i know. i'll take care of you now, fuck you right."

there are whines from the corner as simon flips you onto your stomach. he lifts you up to your knees, everything soft as he rubs your pussy a few times before slipping his cock into you.

he's always so heavy. you sink further into the bed when he gives you his weight, little moan slipping past your lips as your eyes roll back in your head. johnny gets louder.

"yeah, there you go. good girl, baby, so good for me, huh?"

simon fucks you deep and slow. no rush whatsoever, just nice and languid. you'd probably fall asleep if not for johnny's increasingly desperate noises, the sound of his crate rocking against the wall as he does something in there.

at one point simon sighs all annoyed into your ear, pulls out without warning. you whine and he pets a hand over your hair, whisps "just give me a second, doll, gotta shut the dog up and then i'll finish you off" before walking away.

you don't open your eyes, but you hear simon moving around the room. hear him spit, "makin' me fucking muzzle you because you can't shut up. nothing but a goddamn animal, are you?"

when simon fucks you again, johnny is silent.

he brings you to a slow and easy orgasm, fingers stroking at your achy clit. finishes inside you at nearly the same time.

he tucks you into his arms after, curls you into him and sighs, the sound all satisfied man. you fall asleep like that, johnny's predicament the furthest thing from your mind.

#asks and answers #bo writes #dlmliyh #btw simon totally lied about what time he'd be back so he could catch johnny and get him in more trouble lol #favorites

[oneforthemunny]

cowboy!eddie ask:

OH MY GOD THESE COWBOY EDDIE SMUT FICS!!!!!

horny hours ahead.

Just think about this. At the first stage of their relationship, eddie and reader had a thing going on, a situationship but not an official relationship, so reader is head over heels for eddie, and eddie is smitten too but their pride gets in the way. So one night reader is having fun with her girlfriends at some town gathering ??? ( i don't know how they're called) and she wants to make eddie jealous. She wears her favourite sundress, red with spaghetti straps and lace and all and she flirts with other boys from town ALL NIGHT LONG. So our cowboy gets furious and wants her to himself and just needs to make it clear to her.

You can take it from here with your absolute best taste in smut writing.

this was so much longer than I meant it to be holy fucking shit.

18 + MINORS DNI

he really just enjoys the banter the two of you have, but honestly, he thinks the two of you are exclusive. he thinks it's so cool how you're not super clingy and will let him work, and then he picks you up and you guys chill.

that's never the case now is it?

you're convinced he's just fucking with you. playing a sort of cat and mouse game that you have no interest in partaking in. he rarely calls you, usually only comes by to take you out and then fuck you, leaving your apartment early saying something along the lines of "gotta get back to the horses, baby, they don't care that I'm sleeping in. they wanna get fed." in reality, it's the truth. he's not one to hump and dump, but he's gotta take care of his animals. still, you're furious.

the flower festival, to welcome in spring, is always downtown. most of the town shows up, there's a parade, and lots and lots of booze. more importantly, there's a band and you show up, wearing your favorite little red number (eddie's fave too) one that always catches between your ass cheeks when you walk, holding your cleavage up and sitting pretty on your chest.

eddie's drooling when he sees you, grinning over at you when you catch his eye. the only thing is, there sits lynette, the town whore that's always had a thing for eddie. she's a regular buckle bunny, who's pined after him for years. she's tried everything.

you're seeing red, and it's not just your dress. furious, you go up to chris, grinning and placing your hand on his bicep while he escorts you to get a drink. you don't look at eddie but you can feel his gaze on you.

the whole night goes like that too. eddie watching you flirt from boy to boy to boy, giggling, batting your eyes, twirling your hair. what does it for him is when harrison plucks his hat off his head, placing it on yours with a wink. eddie's had enough.

"'scuse me." eddie grins, calloused hand wrapping around your upper arm. "'m gonna take this little lady from ya for just a second."

you don't protest, letting him drag you, boots scuffing against the cobbled ground of the street. eddie is taking long, striding steps towards the parking lot, unrelenting in his grip on your arm.

"eddie, let go of me! I'm not done hanging out with my friends!" you huff.

"friends?" eddie scoffs, jaw clenching in anger. "fuckin' friends, yeah, they seem like they wanna be your friend." he seethes.

you scoff, rolling you eyes. "oh, don't tell me you're jealous, cowboy." you snap. "we're not anything special anyways. you're too busy with all your other little ladies aren't you?" you challenge, eyes squinted at him.

eddie blinks, scanning your features. "have you lost your mind?" he asks.

"no, but you certainly have. now let me go." you snap, wrenching your arm out of his grasp. "go talk to lynette or-or alice. I don't want to distract you."

"why the fuck would I talk to either one of them?" eddie throws his hands out. "why would I -hey, I'm talkin' to you." eddie grabs your arm, spinning you around to face him. "you gonna walk away from me when I'm talking to you?"

"who do you think you are?" you scoff. "you don't get to talk to me like that. not when you ignore me all week, and then think I'm gonna spread my legs and be on your booty call rotation with those other bitches. I'm not interested in that."

"what the fuck are you talkin' about?" eddie huffs, jaw clenched. "I told you, I had auction all week, and I was gonna take you out thursday, and you said you were sick!"

"because I'm not going to be played by you, eddie!" you shrill in the parking lot, uncaring of the people around you who might hear. "I'm not going to be competing for your attention with these other girls-"

"-goddamit!" eddie yells, slamming his hand in frustration on the metal of his truck. "I don't want any of those other girls. I want you." his eyes are intense, fierce, chest heaving hard under his band tee. you swallow thickly.

"I don't know who's told you I've been with other girls, but I haven't alright? when I'm not workin', or sleepin', I'm trying to be with you." eddie huffed, moving so he trapped you against the car, tattooed arms caging you. "I want you, you little brat, not anyone else but you."

your bottom lips quivers, flushing under his sweet gaze. your lips are on his in a moment, hands raking through his curls in an intense kiss that lead to the two of you fumbling around in his back seat of his truck.

eddie's belt buckle pressed against your thigh, the imprints of whatever saying or figure onto the soft skin while he thrusted into you, hard and unforgiving. his hand cradled the back of your neck, holding you close to his chest, while his other gripped the headrest for balance.

he was abusing that spongey spot inside of you, sure you'd be gushing soon. his thrusts were hard, breath heavy in your ear, curls falling loose from his bun and tickling your neck.

"you ever act like that again, and I'll use this belt to blister that cute little ass, you hear me?" eddie sneered, grunting when you clamped and gushed over his cock, strangling his thick member around your velvety walls.

"and you ever put on another man's hat, darlin', and you'll be in real trouble. don't you ever do that again." eddie growled.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry." you whimpered, nails gripping the fabric of his shirt, balling it between your fists.

eddie pounded you out, leaving you filled and flooded at the same time over his seats. good thing they're leather, eddie thought when he saw the mess you'd left behind.

he took you back to his place that night, pounding you out all night until the roosters were crowing, making you wear his hat while you rode him until your thighs were trembling and giving out.

eddie watched you, tangled under his sheets, the golden light of the morning sun on your skin, your parted lips puffing out air against his inked chest. he knew the horses would be waiting, but he couldn't bring himself to get up just yet. to leave a sight as precious and perfect as this. he knew you'd be around for a while, he'd make sure he could keep you around, keep you happy and all his for the rest of his life.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #cowboy!eddie munson #cowboy!eddie munson moodboard #cowboy!eddie munson x reader #cowboy!eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson au

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 1)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Disclaimer ─ In Part 1 of the series, the main characters are introduced, setting the stage for the encounter of Evan and Y/N to unfold and the sexual energy between them to build up. Things get super steamy and smutty in Part 2.

Warnings (for Part 2) ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, handjob, nudes, handjob, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill :)

Word count ─ 3.8K

18+ > If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

You step out of the shower, steam stirring around you as you wrap your hair turban-style in a towel. The anticipation of a proper night-out since you made the bold move to quit your job in Europe and pursue another life in the US tingles in your veins. It feels like forever since you’ve let loose, and tonight promises to be nothing short of epic.

Plopping down onto your bed, you grab your go-to jar of coconut body butter from the dresser. You squeeze a generous dollop onto your palm and rub your hands together. The creamy texture blends in as you work it onto your skin, leaving it smooth and oh-so-soft.

As you immerse yourself in your ritual, you hear the familiar buzz of a FaceTime call. Glancing over at your bedside table, you see “Adria,” your friend’s name, glowing on the screen. You pick up your phone, still coated in moisturiser, and her face pops up. A look of desperation is written all over her features.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?” you chirp, propping the phone on your desk to finish off your pampering session.

She lets out a dramatic groan. “Send help,” she whines, her voice tinged with panic. “I’m having a meltdown over here. I swear, I got nothing to wear.”

You can’t help but giggle at her faux-crisis. “First-world problems, brain rot,” you tease, sneaking a peek at the heap of clothes behind her. “I see you’ve got quite a selection to pick from.”

Adria pouts, swatting playfully at the camera. “Nah, these don’t count. I need everyone to be ‘she ate and left no crumbs.’ What’re going for tonight? I need some inspo!”

You chuckle sympathetically, holding the phone aloft as you pivot to show her your fit for tonight laid out on your bed. “I’m going for less is more—my thrifted mini satin dress and racing black leather jacket with my military boots and white tube socks for a touch of sass.”

She gives you a strained smile as she takes in your outfit. “Ahh, you pull off that casual vibe effortlessly, babe.”

You flip the camera back to you, shrugging nonchalantly, “I’m casual and proud!”

Adria rolls her eyes with a teasing glint. “Okay, but what about makeup? You gotta glam it up… you know the LA sparkle! That’s how we do it in East Hollywood, at least!”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Nah, I’m feeling the au naturel look. You know I suck with makeup big time—I’d probably end up looking like Pennywise.”

Rather than rehashing your “Why makeup should be banned” manifesto, you choose to dig further into the evening’s plans. “So, who else’s joining us tonight, Ad?”

She rattles off a list of names, both female and male—some known, others unknown—and you nod along. “Gotcha. I’ll be ready by 10.”

“Perf. I’ll swing by to pick you up then. Buckle up for a wild night, biyyyatch!” she exclaims, wiggling her brows at you.

You let out a choked laugh as you observe her grimacing. “Alrighty, catch you soon!”

Once you hang up, you slip into your outfit and let your hair fall loose, fluffing it up for a bit of volume. No need for fancy blowouts tonight—you’re all about that breezy, air-dried look.

With a spritz of perfume and a final check in the mirror, you grab your essentials and head out into the dazzling city lights.

As you strut into the club with your gang, the uplifting beats hit you like a wave of energy. The nostalgic tunes of early 2000’s R&B thump in your chest, urging you to groove with every step. You all weave through the sea of nightclubbers, the party mode building up inside you like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

“Let’s hit the bar!” Tommy, one of the guys and Adria’s boyfriend, shouts over Missy Elliot. You all nod in agreement, eager to keep the high spirits flowing with some booze.

You slither through more partygoers who dance erratically, all while juggling their drinks. Some move smoothly to the rhythm, while others simply jiggle around out of tune.

Neon lights flash and strobe, casting an electric glow over the bartender as he polishes a row of whiskey glasses with cool confidence. A cheeky smile plays on his lips as you hop onto an empty stool before him.

“What can I get you started?” he roars over the music, his voice cutting through the din.

“Coronas all around,” you holler, matching his tone with equal fervour. You hand him a wad of cash chipped in by everyone.

“Coming right up.” With a flick of his wrist, he expertly pops the cap off the bottle, sliding them your way with a wink.

“Thanks,” you mouth, shooting him a grin before heading back to your friends with a tray.

You take a long, satisfying gulp, the crisp taste of beer quenching your thirst. With your beverage in hand, you pace to the dance floor, your friends in tow only metres away.

Your hips swing in harmony with the melody, and your feet glide effortlessly across the ground. Heads turn and whispers follow your path. Some even reach out, uttering unintelligible words, or brush against your shoulder as you pass by.

Ignoring the distractions, you grab Adria and Jasmine, dragging them into the heart of the dance floor while the rest of the group forms a circle around you. The music engulfs you, momentarily sweeping away the grim memories of your pre-relocation life.

With each song that blares through the speakers, your body twists and twirls with fluid grace, each move perfectly timed to the tempo of the music. In that moment, you feel more alive, more liberated than ever before.

As time trickles by, the music continues to pump and the lights swirl around you. You notice Joseph, the lone blond dude in the squad, inching closer and closer to you as the night stretches on. 

“Heyo, Y/N! How’s it going?” he greets you with a tap on the shoulder, his voice rumbling near your ear.

“Hey! All good now. How’s you?” you retort with a tight-lipped smile, bringing your Corona to your lips for another sip.

“Now that I’m chatting with you, much better!” he quips back, a hint of mischief in his tone. “How are you liking the States?”

Just as you’re about to respond, joyous screams erupt from Adria and a couple of other girls from your group, catching your attention. Before you can fully process what’s happening, Adria dashes toward you and jumps into your arms, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Girl! Are you on Molly or something? What’s going on?” you mock, smoothing out your dress on the cleavage before you start flashing whoever’s at close vicinity.

“Omg, you won’t believe it!” Adria squeaks, frantically clapping her hands.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Try me.”

“Ahh, my fangirling is through the roof right now! Evan Peters is here,” she cries out, bouncing up and down, squeezing your hand tightly.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Who?” 

“Evan Peters, Y/N! The hottie from American Horror Story… Kai Anderson, Cult? Kit Walker, Asylum? Seriously, don’t these ring any bells? Umm… Dahmer? Come on—you’ve watched that series!” she insists, her voice pitch rising as she tries to jog your memory.

A flicker of recognition crosses your face as your friend’s description sinks in. “Oh, right, Evan Peters,” you concede with a faint smile. “I remember now…And?”

Adria’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “And?? He’s in the same space as us, breathing the same oxygen, Y/N!”

You shake your head, trying to inject a dose of reality into her Hollywood-induced haze. “Okay, but let’s be real here. He’s a mega star, so totally out of league. I mean, we’ve got about as much chance with him as a blue whale does with climbing Mount Everest,” you quip and fold your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “And you’ve got a boyfriend, in case you forgot.”

Adria’s enthusiasm deflates slightly as she’s reminded of Tommy. “It’s not the same,” she protests sheepishly, fiddling with her bracelet. “You know how celebrity crushes work. How can I not crave Evan when he’s graced the world with his Tate Langdon role?” 

You can’t help but laugh at her delirium. “Ugh, Adria, it’s giving obsession and borderline restraining order from Peters if you keep this up. Let’s just focus on having a blast tonight and drop the celebrity fantasies, okay?”

A couple of hours melt away, and the energy of the dance floor begins to wane. Most of your friends retreat to a nearby table to freshen up. But not you. With two others by your side, you’re on a mission to keep the party alive, letting the music guide your body with a fierce determination.

Mid-twirl, though, your eyes snag on something unexpected—a figure lingering at the fringes of the dance floor, his attractive gaze burning into you like a laser beam, sending a bolt of lightning down your back. It takes a moment for you to register who it is, but when you do, your heart kicks into overdrive.

Evan Peters.

You try to play it cool, biting down on the inside of your cheek to stifle the grin that’s itching to break free. You try to pass it off as just a coincidence, a trick of the light or a delulu figment of your imagination, but when you steal another glance in his direction, you find his eyes still trained on you. This time around, he offers a timid smile.

Your throat feels like it’s swallowed a golf ball as you sense his eyes fixed on you. Desperate to shake off the sudden self-consciousness, you rummage through your tiny shoulder bag for your phone. Your fingers jitter as you feign interest in your screen, scrolling aimlessly through your main menu or typing out gibberish in your notes app.

But even as you try to stay composed, his stare weighs on you like a ton of bricks. Are you tripping? Feeling more awkward and exposed than ever (you don’t have Evan Peters laying eyes on you every day), you motion to your friends that you’re heading to the restroom. Anything to escape the spotlight, even if it’s only for a sec.

This time, you bulldoze through the crowd, head low, with the toilets being your last glimmer of hope for salvation. Or so you think. Just as you’re about to slip away, a warm, soft hand gently closes around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you slowly turn to confront the person obstructing your way. And there he is, Evan Peters in the flesh, standing before you with an enigmatic grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you face him, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. Your mind races a mile a minute—Is this real life? Did you manifest this? Is Evan Peters actually in front of you?

Fuck, Adria’s right. He’s hot as hell, you ruminate, feeling your breath clutching in your throat.

Before you can even gather your thoughts, he greets you with a seductive rasp. “Hey.” His eyes seal with yours in a way that makes your knees turn into jelly.

I just saw you and heard you in person, Evan! Scrap everything I said to Adria. Forget the restraining order. Just slap the handcuffs on me, and do whatever you want... Erhm, I mean, take me into custody cause staring at you should definitely be illegal.

You freeze, unable to tear your eyes away from his handsome dark brown (almost black) eyes and silky tousled curls. A feeble “Hi” is all you manage, your voice barely above a whisper as a nervous flutter stomps onto your stomach.

“Having a good time?” he checks in, his smile widening by the second.

“The asphyxiation I feel right now must be a sure sign that I’m enjoying myself, right?” you reply, fanning your hand in front of your face for dramatic effect.

His throaty laughter bubbles up from deep within him, the sound instantly cranking up your heartbeat. It’s genuine and infectious, like he’s letting down his guard and inviting you into his world, flashing those perfect teeth like they’re on a billboard.

“If you’re suffocating from excitement, then you must be doing something right. But don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out on you. If you turn purple, I’ll dial 911,” he teases, gently lifting your chin with his index finger and giving you a full inspection with feigned seriousness. “Nope, we’re good. So far, all I see is beauty, no signs of death.”

You can feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, so you instinctively lower your head, hoping to hide your rose-tinted face. 

You battle to keep it together, but the fact that his hand hasn’t budged from your wrist since your eyes met screams, ‘fainting spell incoming.’ As if that’s enough, his thumb traces soft circles on your skin, sending goosebumps up your arm. “You make me cringe, do it again,” you joke, and you both share a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see what card I should pull next. Here it comes, drumroll—on behalf of everyone in here, I testify to your: ‘I got some serious moves and conquered the dance floor, but I need a breather now.’” he rambles and raises his free hand in mock ovation, his grin laced with mischief.

You chuckle, a surge of confidence brewing within you. “Well, it takes the greatest of them all to verify this. A lifetime of dancing lessons didn’t go down the drain, I guess. I appreciate your testament, sir, and the panel’s verdict,” you coo, bowing theatrically.

Once again, his laughter fills the space between you, warm and hearty.

After a few minutes of silence and a staring contest that makes it agonising for you to breathe, you finally utter, “I said this would be my night, and, apparently, I meant that,” discreetly eyeing him from head to toe, semi-drooling.

“Yeah? Any highlights of the night?” he inquires, his tone dripping with curiosity, and you can’t resist playing along after letting your thoughts slip out loud.

“Nothing yet. But I’m counting on your highlighter to illuminate my way,” you spill out, playfully tilting your head to the side. A sly grin spreads across your lips as you throw the bait, hoping he’ll keep up with your pun game.

His “strike” is immediate as he edges closer to you. “Believe it or not, I’ve got one on me that can change your night from the inside out,” he shoots back, his smile growing, clearly on the same innuendo-laden wavelength as you. You’re a match made in flirtatious banter heaven, true that.

“I need some inside work, that’s for sure. Glad you’re volunteering,” you reply, feeling a rush of heat flood through you at his words. Then, you quickly transition, turning his wrist stroking into a handshake as you introduce yourself.

He hums, gently taking your hand in his, his smile stretching wide enough to reveal his adorable dimples that only add to his charm. “Evan.”

“I know,” you admit, unable to contain your broad smile. “But just an FYI, I haven’t binged-read your fanfics or analysed our astrology charts to see if we’re soulmates. I’ve gone as far as watching Dahmer. Stellar performance, by the way,” you blurt out, still shaking his hand.

He rolls his lips into his mouth to suppress another giggle. “Okay, chill. No need to prove you’re not a psycho. Wanna grab a drink to cool off?”

“No need to ask,” you fire back with equal enthusiasm, both of you grinning like kids in a candy store. Without hesitation, you just follow his lead, diving headfirst into the moment with a reckless abandon, thinking, ‘I’m all in, no matter what crazy idea you’ve got up your sleeve, baby boy.’

He cups your hand in his, his palm firm and reassuring, as he guides you through the throngs of people toward a quieter bar setup located upstairs in the club. The touch makes your head spin, feeling the familiar sensation of heat pooling between your thighs, leaving your undies all moist. You’ve felt sparks like this before, but never quite so intensely, and certainly not so quickly with anyone else.

As you trail behind him, you can’t help but lightly graze the back of his hand, mapping the pathways of his veins with your fingertips. You love a baby face paired with strong arms—he’s exactly your kind of man.

“Maybe it’s better…” he begins once you reach the bar, but the music swells out of the blue, drowning out the remainder of his sentence.

You involuntarily scrunch up your nose and squint, struggling to concentrate and hear him over the blasting tunes. “Come again, sorry?”

Before you can react, he draws closer to you. His breath is warm and tickly against your ear, causing a tremor through your entire body. Not to mention his voice: husky and velvety, making your cunt pulsate for him already.

Damn, things are moving at lightning speed, and you’re struggling to keep pace.

As Evan gets nearer, you catch a subtle yet alluring whiff of cinnamon and cologne. But, actually, it’s the natural scent exuding from his body that has a chokehold over you. Those pheromones he unleashes are like full-blown intoxication, making you lightheaded, your pulse thudding.

You lean in to mimic his gesture and whisper to his ear, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he gently clasps your hand, signalling for you to hold on. As he removes his earplugs, he explains, “Sorry I’ve got very sensitive ears.”

You chuckle, a wicked spark in your eye as you lift a tuft of hair to reveal your own ear protectors. “Great minds think alike,” you cheer.

“No, you didn’t,” he exclaims, eyes widened as you burst out laughing in sync.

As your laughter subsides, Evan’s expression shifts. His eyes bore into yours with a smouldering intensity as if he’s on the verge of revealing a long-held secret or daring to make a move.

But before you can form coherent thoughts or pluck up the courage to speak, Evan blinks fast, breaking the spell. “Shall we get those drinks at last? What’d you like?”

You clear your throat, trying to snap out of your nasty thoughts with Evan being the main character. “I’m down for another Corona, thanks.”

He flashes a quick two-finger salute to the bartender before turning back to you, his lips curving up in a cute, crooked smile. “So, who are you here with tonight?”

“Just some friends,” you confess, your voice trailing off as he raises his bottle to clink it against yours in a toast. His eyes remain glued on yours as he takes a sip, his defined jawline and slender neck at full display begging for your kisses. The intensity of his gaze makes your legs all wobbly. “A-and yourself?” you stammer, breaking eye contact to nervously trace a circular pattern on the rim of the bottle glass with your fingers.

“Same, I came to visit friends during my break. I’m flying back to Vancouver in ten days to carry on filming Tron.”

Your grip tightens around the cool glass of your drink as Evan drops the bombshell. You feel the liquid catch in your throat as you choke, a sudden surge of panic hitting your chest. You cough, the sound harsh and uncontrolled, your body reacting instinctively to the news.

“Canada?” you manage to croak out between coughs, your voice hoarse. You struggle to swallow past the lump, your throat raw and constricted. Your chest heaves as you fight to regain control.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks with a sense of urgency, his forehead creased with deep lines of worry. Leaning in, his eyes search yours for any sign of distress. His hand reaches out to steady you, giving you comforting back rubs.

You nod weakly, your eyes watering from the effort of suppressing another coughing fit.

“Let me fetch some water for you,” he offers, his voice soft and soothing. He sprints to the bar, returning seconds later with a glass of water and a concerned frown etched on his forehead.

“Thanks,” you mumble, accepting the glass with a trembling hand, keeping the bottle of beer in your other hand. The cool water soothes your parched throat, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you as Evan tenderly ruffles your hair and massages your scalp to calm you down. Hint: his hands on you work wonders.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, looking up to meet his gaze again, your heart hammering. Everything else fades away, leaving only the reassuring presence of Evan before you.

You can practically sense the sexual tension between you. His stare flickers between your lips and eyes, his own mouth slightly parted. It’s like a silent invitation that hangs between you like a charged wire ready to ignite, daring you to take a plunge and smother his face with kisses. And then suck his dick so hard that his stomach caves in like a Caprisun.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve just met; he has you at hello and you’d spread your legs for this man without a second thought…

You gulp as you realise he’s almost inches away from you. You shudder when his fresh breath—an irresistible blend of mint and alcohol—wafts into my mouth, blowing stray strands of hair off your face. “You’re leaving in ten days?” you sigh, puckering your lips and giving him a puppy-eyed look.

“Yes, but I’m still here,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on your lips as he leans into your stool. With a single knee, he slowly splits your legs and slides in between them.

“You’re here now. Wanna be at my place next?” you suggest, and he stares back at your eyes with a crooked smirk, his lips curled mischievously.

Without warning, his lips brushed against yours, throwing your arousal off the chart. The torturously slow pace that his lips slide along yours makes your sex leap, pop, and drip. Soft moans escape your bodies as he grabs your ass to pull you in, squeezing it along the way as his chest cushions firmly against your breasts.

He smiles against your lips as you tangle your fingers in his hair and part your mouth, giving him the green light to roughen the kiss. His hard rock boner already presses against your wet centre when his tongue invades your mouth with primitive force, swirling and twirling with yours in a passionate dance.

“How long to get to yours?” he grunts out of breath, wincing from the uncomfortable angle his stiff cock has now taken in his trousers.

“It’s roughly a ten-minute ride, give or take,” you pant, adjusting the hem of your dress.

“Off we go.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fandom #evan peters fluff #evan peters imagine #ahs murder house #evan peters smut #ahs fandom #evan peters x reader #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x you #evan peters x female reader #tate langdon #ahs cult #kit walker imagine #kit walker #kai anderson imagine #kai anderson #kai anderson smut #fanfic #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #warren lipka #kit walker x reader #kit walker x y/n #kit walker x you #peter maximoff #colin zabel #evan peters dahmer

[froggibus]

GIRL HI IDK IF YOUVE HAVE BUT LIKE COLE CASSIDY COWBOY RULE???? 🫶🏽

The Cowboy Rule - Cole Cassidy (NSFW)

Pairing: Cole Cassidy x f! reader

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2k

Summary: while out for drinks with Cass, you decide to put on his hat without knowing about the cowboy rule

CW: straight filth, alcohol, slight possessiveness? semi-public sex, car sex, switch! Cass, switch!reader, dirty talk, praise, degradation, nipple play, teasing, dry humping, grinding, overstimulation, breeding, pregnancy kink? banter, riding, cowgirl position, pet names (cowboy, cowgirl, baby)

ok so I had to look up what that was but apparently if you take a cowboys hat you have to ride the cowboy?? idek I fell in love with that idea and that’s how this happened 🫶🏼 ive missed you guys a lot so I’m just happy to be back

————

Cassidy chugs down the rest of his whiskey, setting the glass back on the wooden bar counter with a thud. He licks the amber liquid off of his lips and flashes you a grin. “Be right back, darlin’.”

You raise an eyebrow but say nothing, waiting until he’s just out of sight before reaching for the cowboy hat he’d taken off an hour earlier. You always wanted to try it on, but the man was practically attached to it and you never had the chance. Until now. 

You set the vodka cran you’ve been drinking down on the counter and slowly place it on top of your head. “Call me Cassidy,” you mock his accent, “Cole Cassidy.”

“Now, now, I don’t think I sound like that, do I?”

You almost go white when you hear his voice over your shoulder, but you recover quickly. “No, my voice is a bit deeper.”

“Yeah?” He sits back on his bar stool next to you and orders another whiskey. “Ever heard of the cowboy rule, y/n?”

“The cowboy rule?”

He smiles knowingly at the bartender who sets a glass of whiskey down. “Do you know the cowboy rule?”

The bartender glances at the hat on your head, then at Cole, and flashes you a smirk. “Ah, don’t drag me into this.” He returns to cleaning glasses behind the counter. 

You look anywhere but at Cole, choosing instead to look at the wooden support beams around the room. You can feel his whiskey eyes boring into the cowboy hat that rests on your head, but you make no move to look at him until he starts speaking again. 

“So the cowboy rule,” he starts, “proclaims that if a woman takes a cowboys hat, she’s gotta ride the cowboy.”

Your face burns at his words and in your shock, you whip your head back to stare at him. “I—what?”

He’s grinning at you, his ears tinged pink. “You heard me, pumpkin.”

You clench your thighs slightly, and you can’t tell if the sudden heat in your stomach is from his words or the alcohol, or maybe a combination of both. He’s handsome, sure, and from the stories you’ve overheard, he knows what he’s doing. 

“So if I do ride you,” you start, suppressing giggles at the surprise on his face, “do I get to keep the hat on?”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

You knock back the rest of your drink and wave the bartender back over to pay for your tab. Cassidy grabs your hand and practically drags you out of the bar. 

“Slow down, cowboy, we’re not even home yet.” 

“Who said anythin’ about goin’ home?” He clicks the unlock button on his keys just as you approach his old red pickup truck. 

He opens the back driver side door and gestures for you to get in. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “In the parking lot?”

“Is that a problem?”

You shake your head and slide back in the seat, reaching up to grab him by his collar and tug him on top of you. He hooks his boot on the door handle and shuts it behind you guys before moving to straddle your waist. 

You try to think of something snarky to say but Cassidy shuts you up by pressing his lips to yours. The taste of nicotine and whiskey floods your senses, a slightly sweet tinge to his tongue. 

He sucks on your tongue and presses a knee between your legs. You can’t help but thrust your hips up and grind against his thigh, the friction making you whine. 

You reach up to grab something to ground yourself, your fingers finding his hair and tangling with the chocolate strands. You give it a tug and he moans into your mouth, pulling away to smirk at you.

“I knew you liked it rough,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes at him, “you don’t know the half of it.” You lock your legs around his hips and flip yourself over so that you’re on top of him. “That’s much better.”

You have your legs on either side of his, his bulge rubbing right up against your core. You’re practically gushing, so wet it leaves a dark spot on his jeans. He reaches his hands up your shirt, squeezing your tits through your bra. 

“Lord,” he groans, “I’d give you every hat I have if I could see you like this everyday.”

You lean and press a kiss to his lips, “easy cowboy,” you move your lips down to his jaw, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

He shivers under your touch, swallowing hard when you move your lips from his jaw to his neck and suck a dark mark into the skin. His calloused fingers dig into your hips, “e-easy now, no teasin’.”

You bounce on his hips slightly, his hard cock grinding on your throbbing clit through your pants. He grunts at the friction and you bite your lip to keep from whining. 

His hands travel from your hips and up to your shoulders, lifting up your cowboy hat momentarily to tug your shirt over your head. He places the hat on again and cups your face, before he tugs you down to kiss him again. One of his hands wraps around your back to unclasp your bra. If you weren’t so needy, you’d be impressed. 

“So pretty,” he hums, moving his mouth down to kiss the tops of your boobs. He’s gentle, applying just enough pressure for you to feel it. 

“D-don’t tease,” you whine. 

He pulls back. “Why don’t you use that pretty little mouth for something more useful than complaining?”

He rubs the tips of his index and middle fingers on your lips, slowly pushing them into your mouth. On instinct, you wrap your lips around them and start to suck on them. 

“That’s a good girl,” he pets your head before returning to your chest. “Keep at it.”

He slowly kisses down your left side, kissing in a square pattern on the outside of your nipple. His mouth is hot and wet and has you squirming for more. Cass moans when you dig your hips a little too hard into his. 

Finally, his hot mouth closes around your nipple and you moan around his fingers. He’s an expert, knowing exactly how much pressure to apply and when to use his teeth and when to go soft. You whine against his fingers, arching your back and thrusting your hips into his. 

The friction does little to help the throbbing in your core and only succeeds in making Cass go harder. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. 

You let his fingers fall from your mouth and pulls way from him. Cass looks at you with an eyebrow raised, “did I say you could stop?”

You place a hand on his chest and shove him back on the bench so that he’s laying down. “I’ve had about enough of you being in charge,” you grab the hem of his shirt and tug it over his head. “It’s my turn, cowboy.”

You never would have guessed that Cass has a submissive side. Yet, he laid down on his back and let you use him all the same. 

You run your hands over his smooth chest, admiring the scars and the way his metal arm seems to meld into his skin perfectly. You plant light kisses across the border of metal and flesh, and Cass sucks in a breath. 

Your hands run lower, following his treasure trail to the top button of his jeans. You pop it open easily, making quick work of the zipper and propping yourself up on your knees to tug his pants off. You’re greeted with his hard cock straining against his red boxers, and you drool at the sight of it. 

“So worked up for me,” you sigh, running your finger across the outline of his dick. 

Cass pants at your touch, especially when you start to trail your fingers across the waistband of his shorts. You slip a finger in and run it across the skin on the inside. You hook another finger inside and finally tug his boxers off. 

His cock springs out, hard and veiny, the head red and dripping with pre cum. You grip the base snugly, giggling at the way Cass sighs and throws his head back. 

You lick the tip, the salty sweet taste of his precum flooding your mouth. He bucks his hips forwards, trying to force more of his cock into your mouth. 

“Not yet, cowboy. You cum inside me or not at all.”

Cass groans at your words, the sheer thought of stuffing you full of his cum and fucking it back into you is almost enough to make him cum. You tug down your bottoms almost too eagerly, your sopping panties practically dripping onto his lap. 

You slip your panties off and move so that your entrance is above the head of his cock. “Ready, cowboy?”

“After you, cowgirl.”

You slowly sink onto the head of his cock, your pussy so wet it slides in easily. He’s big enough that the stretch is almost painful, your walls squeezing around him. The two of you moan in tandem as you pause just after his head, trying to adjust. 

Cass grabs your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh. You slide down a few more inches, eyes rolling back in your head at the friction. He bottoms out a few seconds later, your cunt flesh against his balls. Both of you are breathless, Cole’s hands slightly shaking in anticipation. 

You move back up his length slowly before going back down, the feeling of his cock stretching your walls almost overwhelming. Your movements are slow at first, hesitant, but as it starts to feel good, you get more confident. 

You start to bounce on his cock, your thighs slapping against his with every thrust. Cass helps guide you up and down his cock, desperate for more friction. His hat bounces on your head with every impact, your hair falling in your face. 

“S-shit,” he hisses, using his hands to slam you against him, “look so damn fine in my hat.”

You mimic the way he tips his hat, interrupted when he lifts his hips to slam into yours. You can feel your orgasm approaching quickly, heat building in your stomach. Cass continues to lift his hips to meet your movements, moving one of his hands down to your dripping cunt to rub your clit. 

The friction is enough to send you over the edge, your orgasm rolling through you. Your muscles give in and you collapse onto his chest, your head hanging over his shoulder. Your walls clench around his cock, and Cassidy makes no move to slow down. 

He thrusts into you harder, trying to chase his own finish. “My little cowgirl,” he grunts, “cummin’ all over my cock. Such a naughty little slut.”

You whimper into his neck, feeling another orgasm starting to build up. 

“Want me to cum inside you baby?” He coos, “want me to stuff you full of my cum?”

“Y-yes!” You whine, wrapping your arms around him to keep yourself grounded. “Breed me, p-please Cass!”

Your words send him into overdrive, a primal growl ripping through him. He’s thrusting into you impossibly fast now, his balls slamming against your ass with every thrust. 

You squeal his name, your own voice sounding far away as you succumb to the pleasure. Cole’s thrusts get sloppier, and then he gives one final, hard thrust before spilling his cum deep inside of you. The warm cum filling you up is enough to bring about your own orgasm, intense shockwaves of pleasure washing through you. 

Your vision and hearing black out for a second as you cum, your muscles going rigid and then relaxing. Cassidy holds you to his chest, petting your back and mumbling in your ear while you cum. 

When you come to, you’re breathless and laying on top of Cass, his cock still buried inside of you. 

“So, cowgirl, did you enjoy the ride?”

#overwatch 2 #overwatch #overwatch x reader #ow2 #overwatch x you #ow #overwatch fic #xreader #smut #cole cassidy smut #cole cassidy x reader #cole cassidy x you #cole cassidy #cowboy x you #cowboy x reader #cowboy

[strawberryama]

His balls are huge. I can feel it in my soul!!

i say this too much so here we are besties

content : fem!reader x rook, ball sucking, public sex, library sex, cum swallowing, slight shoe humping mentions

18+ Minors dni!!!

“I can’t believe I’m even asking this…but do tell, how are you undoubtedly certain?”

“I just know it. I have that kind of sense, ya know?”

Cater could only roll his eyes. There was no way this conversation was happening right now. In front of his lunch no less. Thank god lunch was nearly over, cause he couldn’t eat anymore. Not after hearing about how _______ was dead certain her crush, the vice housewarden of Pomefiore, had huge breeder balls. He didn’t even want to think about that guy naked. Yet, this was the current lunch topic, as Trey was busy this afternoon.

“That’s…great. Can I please eat in peace?”

______ turned to her friend, watermelon chunk on her fork. She’d been eating this entire time. It was as if the conversation topic was just something as casual as homework answers to her. She completely unphased. ______ bit down on the watermelon, shrugging to the guy before her.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Cater groaned.

“What?!”

“Nothing. Just forget it! I’m going to the library for study hall, early.”

“I’ll come with then!”

Cater only groaned once more as he stood up, grabbing his tray. “If you’re coming, then no more nasty discussion, ‘kay? I gotta study or Riddle’ll kill me.”

“Aye, aye!”

-

-

-

______ stayed true to her word. She even was actively studying alongside of Cater. She went looking for a book though, deep in the stacks. Sometimes potions class was a pain in the butt. There were so many cryptic ingredients that she knew next to nothing about.

The only issue was every damn book that explained those ingredients was up on the highest shelf. God forbid this school have accessible shelves. No, ofc ourse, they need to have six foot and then some tall shelves.

As she reached and stretched the best she could, she felt a broad, strong mass press into her. A hand came up, gracefully pulling the book she required from the shelf.

“Here you are,” mused a voice.

______turned to look over her shoulder, and none other than Rook Hunt stood there, pressed into her. He didn’t back up at all. Rook grinned down to ______, his free hand coming to grab her waist, rooting her there.

“Madame, how good to see you!~”

“You too, Rook,” she sheepishly smiled. She could feel her cheeks burning. Fuck. He was hot. His eyes pierced right through her like an arrow.

“You know, a lil birdie told me something.”

“O-Oh yeah?”

“You have a hypothesis about a specific part of my body is what I heard at lunch.”

“I!”

“It’s okay. You’re more than welcome to find out.”

At this, ______ felt something long and hard press into her ass. She was burning up and she was growing wet. She was going to get to see the Rook Hunt’s cock and fat, fat balls. She wasdrooling at the thought.

“May I?” she asked all too eager.

“Please, go right ahead”

-

-

-

Her eyes rolled right back into her head as she sucked on his fat balls. They felt sooo good in her mouth. She drooled all over them, salivating at the heady scent and taste she consumed. ______ could barely even stifle the obscene noises that she made. Let alone, the moan that she let out about the testicle that filled her mouth.

“Good girl,” Rook drawled. His hand grabbed a fistful of ______’s hair, pulling her in further, causing her to gag.

______ was thoroughly enjoying herself now. Her pussy smeared its juice all over Rook’s boot as she rubbed her clit desperate for any friction. Spit was dribbling down her chin. She was in ecstasy. A true dream. Finally, a pair of huge, fat balls full of hot, white cum. And they were all her’s. No one else’s.

Rook threw back his head against the bookshelf, hat dropping from his head. She was good at this, far better than he’d imagined she’d be when he overheard her at lunch. And the absolute messy display of a whore before him was hotter than hell. In fact, Rook may have just found his new favorite toy. And it was better than bothering that prefect of Savanaclaw could ever be.

Rook’s balls began tightening and he bucked into ______ more fervently than before. Her hand reached up, gently teasing at the head of Rook’s fat cock, urging it to cum all over her. Her thumb circled about the slit in his cock, spreading the precum that leaked out. All the while, her hand rubbed and squeezed what she could reach, daring Rook to let go. Daring him to cum and make a mess just for her.

Through hooded, lust fulled eyes, Rook saw the devious wanton look in ______’s eyes. God, she’s a goddess, he could only think. He yanked her off of his pulsating balls, posing his cock’s head before her lips before she could whine in complaint.

“Princeese, take it nice and deep,” he commanded in a shaky breath. But ______ didn’t need any instructions. Rook barely finished his sentence, before ______ began to suck on the tip of his cock.

She moaned, teasing him, with each inch she’d swallow up. Her tight throat constricted about Rook’s sensitive cock.

He couldn’t hold out any longer. His grip on her hair tightened, burying the last few centimeters of his cock in ______’s mouth. With a deep grunt, Rook keeled in on himself, shooting hot cum down ______’s throat. Those emerald eyes rolled back as he stifled a groan, his cock scraping against her uvula.

But ______ didn’t even flinch. She drank every drop of his hot salty cum, a dazed grin forming as she pulled herself off him. ______ gently licked off any remaining cum that dared to escape before grinning up at him mischievously.

“It seems my hypothesis was correct,” she snickered, placing his fallen hat upon her head.

#rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt smut #twisted wonderland #twst #pomefiore #smut #drabble

[gangrenados]

titans kinks you say 👀 here's my personal headcanons - Dick: breeding, bondage, sadism/masochism, pegging, praise, marking, body worship, getting caught, and of course monsterfucking; Jason: praise, mutual masturbation, phone sex, orgasm delay, overstimulation, cumming untouched, marking, knife/blood play (only on him tho he won't risk it with his partner), and maybe a slight daddy kink? he seems like he'd be into his partner calling him daddy lmao (might send more with the other titans)

(2) back with more kinks! Gar I can see just going with whatever his partner wants to do lmao like maybe a size kink? but otherwise I think he's down for anything; Hank: definitely size kink for sure, public or outdoor or car sex, porn (watch it with his partner or making it), first time/corruption, spanking, lingerie, morning sex/maybe somnophilia; Donna: definitely bondage I can totally see her tying up her partner with her lasso, riding (her or her partner), sensory deprivation, and body worship

Nonnie I love you <3 OKAY TIME TO SIN Y'ALL this is long omg

Warning: a ton shit of kinks like gun kink and breeding for example, sex (obviously)

JASON TODD:

Do I think Jason would be able to make you see stars? Yes, do I also think he'd make you laugh cuz he banged his head against the headboard? Of course. The duality of a man.

Sex with Jason is chill, it leaves you with this nice fuzzy feeling in your head.

-Switch: I don't think Jason would have a preference when it comes to which role he takes during sex, he doesn't care as long as he gets to get laid.

Sometimes he'll take the lead, sometimes you'll be the one in charge, or perhaps there wouldn't be any role at all!

However, I feel like Jason (s1 and s2 at least) would brag about him being all dominant and stuff.

Also, I feel like red hood!Jason would rather take a more dominant role to take out all the pent up frustration on you.

-Names: I know nonnie you said that he might have a daddy kink, but I have to disagree (at least with this version of Jason tho). However, I do think the red hood version might enjoy being called sir.

It gives him authority and dominance, it's a strong word that makes him fuzzy on the inside.

Kinks:

-Praise kink: he needs the validation so badly, Jason aches for it and if you tell him how good he's doing he might cry.

-Marking: There's no doubt that Jason is a little shit and would leave a hickey in a place that it's pretty much impossible to cover up. He loves the fact that, by doing this, he's letting the rest know you're taken.

-Gun kink: Jason loves playing with his guns, and the thought of you suckin the barrel of on his pistols, as if you were suking his dick surely gets him going.

He'll facefuck you with it, telling you that you gotta earn it if you want him to fuck you stupid

He's not stupid though, Jason would make sure to empty all of them and put the safety on.

-Mirros: I have no doubt that tmhe would love to fuck you in front of a mirror and force you to see how hot and slutty you look.

-Humilliation: Jason loves dirty talking, most of the time he uses it to praise the fuck out of you, but there are times that he's so mean and all he wants to do is degrade you. Aside from words, I feel like at some point he'll make you hump his boot.

Misc.

-Overstimulation

-Sex on his bike

-Mutual masturbation and phone sex (these two go hand in hand most of the time)

-Worshiping

-Maybe this might not be related to this version, but comics!Jason would have a size kink

HANK HALL

Imma be honest here you guys, I don't think Hank would be really good at sex lol. Like he's not awful, Hank could probably give you a nice time, not a good time, but a nice kinda decent time.

As my lovely bestie @prettybitchfatwitch said "Hanks treats sex sex as if it's the gym" and well, I have to agree lol. I feel like with him you probably would have to fake an orgasm, anyway that's our little take. back to topic 💀

-Dom: He just gives those vibes, that's all. Maybe during his younger days he watched so much porn that know he has the need to be the one in control.

Names: I feel like at some point Hank would call himself daddy, does that mean he has a daddy kink? No, just like Jason, I feel like Hank would enjoy the power behind the name and how nice it feels to say it and hear you saying it.

Kinks:

Size kink: Hank would use his height and strength to his favor during sex, things like picking you up and fucking you or manhandling you would be his favorite things. Maybe he would brag about how strong and hung he is.

Anal: Hank strikes me as the guy who would be so into anal, I think he would love it.

Butt plugs so he can keep his cum inside of you, or perhaps he'd make you fuck yourself in one, or he'd make you keep it when you go out. Also I feel like he'd be into rimming aka eating ass.

Misc.

-for some reason I feel like he and Dawn would really into threesomes or they'd be swingers lol

Zero doubt that Dick is good, he'll make you see stars, end of discussion (I mean, have you seen what he had pulled off? He must've got game, passion, skills. Hello?)

DICK GRAYSON

Switch leaning dom: Dick assess in both, but usually he prefers to be the one in control. Totally soft dom vibes, although he can get pretty mean sometimes.

It takes a while to convince him to sub, but he gives in and boy, Dick is a bratty sub. He'll take any chance to get on your nerves, making you mad it's his favorite thing.

However, he can shut up quickly and moan like a little bitch. His brattines it's just a little mask for the slut he hides inside.

Kinks:

Praise kink: this one goes both ways, he'll tell you how good your making him feel and call you things like "good girl" for example. Now, do the same to him and you'll make him explode.

Daddy kink: Dick loves the name and I think he might engage in the dynamic, nothing too wild, but he would make up some rules and pamper you. Perhaps he likes the control this gives him.

Breeding kink: Filling you up with his cum it's one of his favorite activities, it sends shivers down his spine whenever he gets to do it.

Dick loves watch his cum drip down your pussy, but he's also down to plug it, let's not talk about fucking his cum back into you.

This man is gross, he jus loves to fill you up.

BDSM: I mean, it's canon that he loves being tied up, also adding to that I do feel like he would low-key be into masochism.

Like, it might not be his biggest kink, but it's where the mean side of him comes out. However, he knows your limits and will not hesitate to stop if you tell him to or if he notices that something is off.

Adding to this idk why i feel like might enjoy a little bit of pet play? Like he won't engage with it, but would rather use it as a punishment if you really get to get on his nerves.

He'll be condescending with you, pretending to be nice when it really he's quite degrading. He'll put you on a collar and make you walk in all fours, dare to misbehave and he'll tug on it.

Misc.

-Cockwarming

-Spanking

-Oral (he's a godsend for oral, the guy's good)

CONNER KENT

Just like Gar, Conner doesn't have much experience, but from what we've seen my boy it's passionate and pretty damn good lol

Sub: Conner is a sub, he just screams sub to me. If you wanna switch things up, then he might try be more dominant, but overall he prefers having you take control

Names: why do I feel like he'd melt if you call him baby boy?

Kinks:

Mommy kink: Yeah, I'm a believer of sub!Conner, to be fair he'd be a really sweet and obedient sub. He loves calling you mommy when you fuck him so good he's seeing starts.

Strength kink: Even though Conner is scared of potentially harming you with his strength, he loves the things he can do it it. Like fucking you mid air or manhandling you into a position.

Marking: He wants you to make him as yours.

sadly hickeys doesn't last long on him due his quick healing, but loves when you do it. Perhaps make him wear something of yours as a subtly way to let other knows he belongs to you.

Somnophilia: Conner doesn't need much sleep and sometkme he gets needy on the night, so getting to fuck you while you sleep it's his way to deal with the problem.

Misc.

-Mirror fucking

-getting spanked

#this took way too long lmao #hopefully it's good #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd Smut #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood smut #Nightwing imagine #Nightwing x reader #Nightwing smut #gar logan imagine #gar Logan x reader #gar Logan smut #beast boy imagine #beast boy x reader #beast boy smut #conner Kent imagine #Conner Kent x reader #Conner Kent smut #superboy imagine #superboy x reader #hank hall imagine #hank hall x reader #hank hall smut

[prettyboykatsuki]

are you awake yet

is it time to talk about boot humping bakugo

safe with you | k. bakugou

✮ cw ; afab + gn!reader, boot-humping but loving akjdkjd, mutual masturbation, facials, the title sir, sub!reader, soft dom!bkg , praise and adoration bc its bkg <3 18+

✮ wc ; 1.5k (??)

✮ a/n ; i am awake sorry this came at 3am though ajhjdjk. also they have a very established switch for switch dynamic. writing my yearly dom bkg content lmao

also this is not the most original concept but its my iteration so i hope thats alright

It's not even that he's being particularly demeaning to you. You'd have to initiate it, because Bakugou always has been a simple person during sex. He's always busy but he's home today after early dismissal. Has on those thick, black boots with hefty rugged soles.

He's cleaned them off after coming from his job. So clean the light of your living room is bouncing off the bronzey metal.

And you're sitting on the floor of your living room. You come crawling towards him mostly to rest your head on his lap or just give him a nudge. You notice he looks good. He always does. Has the most handsome face even when it's twisted into a scowl - at home it's relaxed. The soft curve of his jaw, the pull of his lips - all flat nose bridge and pretty, straight lashes.

Clean, shiny boots. His costume is still on. Mask is pulled up and pushing his hair back. He hasn't even taken off his gloves today, not yet. His arms are muscular stretched over his head in exhaustion. enough to see his midriff coming through. Wispy blonde hairs in a trail above the low hand of his pants.

You rest your chin on his knee and he looks at you fondly. Lovingly. even though he usually looks so mean there's a warm, watery look to his eyes as he reaches his hands out towards you. He rubs your cheek with his gloves on. Pets your head so tenderly it makes you feel like you'll melt into the floor.

"Hey," He hums, a small smile on his lips. so full of mirth you can't breathe "Miss me so much?"

"Stupid question."

"I'm rubbin' off on you more and more everyday," He says. You laugh because it's true.

"You look really good right now," You offer bluntly. His face splits into a grin. A smirk, really - the kind where it barely flashes his teeth. In another life he has canines, fangs sharp enough to rip through you.

"That right?"

This part of him, so riddled with confidence, always makes your stomach feel like it's burning. So often Bakugou is rational and relative. A little irritable, a little ridiculous. It's been a long road, and he's finally at that place where the confidence is well-earned. No longer misshapen inferiority tacked together with anger.

But real, unshakeable confidence. He believes you when you tell him that he looks good. He gets a little cocky about it, and it only ever makes him sexier. Only he could ever pull it off. A wave of desire washes over you, a heat. You nod absently, and it's like something switches in him. A tenderness that's sharpened with love, with want.

"You wanna do something about it?" He gathers, maybe from the look in your eyes. You nod and he smiles again, a little fiercer this time around.

"And what's that? Gotta tell me or i won't know for shit."

"On your boots. Wanna—"

"Wanna hump my fucking boots?" And he laughs, breathless, a tent pitching that you can see from where you sit "Really?"

"Uh-huh. Can I?"

"I'd never say no to you, sweetheart." he says, clicking his teeth like it's the most obvious thing in the world "Go ahead. Do it like you fucking mean it."

"Yes, Sir."

A switch flips off in him. You can see it on his face, the realization washing over him. He laughs a little to himself. So it's like that, written all over his face. You rest yourself on his leg, a feeling welling up inside of you that you can't describe.

You scoot a little. Line yourself up along the edge of his boot, your clit touching the roundest part. You're glad you're wearing shorts, even though you're so certain that they're going to be soaked through because the direct contact might too much. You're worked up and wet and aching.

Bakugou is gentle. He's kind, a sort of pride rolling off him in waves as he guides your head to his leg. You press your cheek against his thigh.

"Want somethin' to watch, baby?"

"Yes. Please." You answer back. Small and simple. He laughs a little but abides your request. You watch carefully with your head tilted, as he pulls his cock out from his pants.

Half-hard, thicker than it's long with the tip and aching red that leaves heat crawling up your neck. He reaches forward to you, cupping his palm and giving you a tilted smile. The removal of his gloves is so painfully deliberate. Calloused hands, but beautifully thick fingers. You spit in his palm obediently, staring as it drips down his shaft. He goes slow, palms fisted around the base of his cock as he strokes it.

"Go on," He encourages, tender but teasing "Make yourself feel good."

So you do. It takes a little effort to work up to the right rhythm. You have to hold onto his leg - feel the hardness of as you anchor yourself up enough to roll your hips. It doesn't feel good until it does. Until there's enough pressure on you that you moan out. Your eyes are fluttery as you stare Bakugou.

And he's watching you so intently, fixed on the sight of you underneath him. There's something that always borders on obsessive when you get like this. Makes his chest swell up with pride that you want this, want him enough to hump against the steel toes of his work boots. You look damn good doing it, eyes hazy and shorts slowly riding up - curve of your ass and the bend of your knee making it hard for him to breathe.

The room is so thick with lust you can taste it in the back of your mouth. Bakugou strokes his cock, melting into the couch - head thrown back but always looking at you. He reaches a free hand out to touch you, using his thumb to wipe drool from the corner of your lips.

"So damn messy," He say, tucking his thumb into your mouth "You're gonna ruin my work pants, baby."

"Sorry." You hum. He chuckles.

"Making a mess of my boots too, probably." He hums, low as you suck his thumb "Gonna 'em all shiny, huh?"

A whine escapes your throat, a garbled and desperate sound as something gets all knotted up inside of you. The descent is slow and impatient. Makes your breath hitch hard with such utter need. You can feel it, how good you're feeling. How wet your getting, how even through the material there's more of a slip than it would be. And every time you open your eyes up - Bakugou is staring at you.

Peering at your needy expression with red eyes, thumb over slit and shivering from his sensitivity. It's the sight of you that he's using to get off. He's excited watching you be desperate, watching your expression change into one of utter devastation.

You're his favorite, messy angel. The sweetest thing in the whole world when you're like this. It makes Bakugou want to take care of you. Guide you gently, patiently towards the edge. Pushes all of his pride down and replaces it with devotion hard enough to swallow you - to make the glassy look in your eyes feel so fucking earned.

He does earn it. Earns his titles, always. Like Sir is just as important as Mr. Dynamight. Always earns that sweet fucking face you make when he fucks you into a stupid mess. You're beautiful like that, really. Beautiful when you're ruined, when you give him the wheel to take you where you need to go.

He softens his voice for you, just enough timbre to make your insides hot and sticky. "You wanna cum, don't you? Wanna cum humping my fucking boot."

"Yes, Sir."

"So well-mannered when you want something." He praises, though it sounds a little mean "Look at you. Didn't even get to take my work clothes off."

You want to say sorry. You're too close to think of the fact he's teasing you and that part of you makes him wrought with affection.

You feel hot as you whimper.

"C-can I cum, Sir? P-please, oh, pleaseplease."

"Close your eyes, sweetheart." He says, a tremor in his voice "Let's cum together."

You close your eyes and listen well as you let yourself go. It takes you a minute to get there, but the minute you pulse the first time - you feel something hot spill out against your cheek. You think it gets on your clothes too but you can't really tell. You're too busy cumming with him, all of you unravelling as you pulse and thrash and hold on so tight to Bakugou like your life depends on it.

You cum hard - eyes still closed. You hear Bakugou mumble something above you as you catch your breath. Some plastic crinkling and the feeling of something wet wiping off your cheeks. You wait until he's done to peel your eyes back open.

"Still with me? Feeling okay?" He checks in. You yawn but don't move.

"Yeah. Wanna say here for a bit though."

He laughs, petting your head.

"You look real comfortable."

You laugh with him.

"I am. I kinda see why you do this so much."

A flush spread on his face.

"Shut up."

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou smut #bnha smut #writing tag #return to sender #its a miracle i managed to write this without collapsing into a fit of dust

[munsonhoneybaby]

i’d love to see a drabble or a blurb with eddie and the fishnets👀

yet again this one got away from me lol so it's a little long for a drabble but i hope you enjoy !!

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering

A/N: takes place in the too much in common realm but isn't a part of the main series !! song is witchy woman by the eagles <3

In a town like Hawkins, there weren’t many occasions that fishnets were suitable for. So, by the time you did eventually wear them again, you had pretty much forgotten about the ‘promise’ you’d made Eddie. He hadn’t, of course.

“Are you sure we have to go, baby?” His fingers clawed at your hips through the thin black dress you wore. “C’mon, let’s just stay in tonight.”

“I didn’t just spend two hours getting ready to ‘stay in’. Plus, I’m excited. I like getting out of town and doing things every now and then, and Steve said this place is supposed to be really cool.” You eyed him in the mirror as you swiped on some lip gloss. The red of his button-up was so deep it was almost black, tucked into his black jeans with the top three buttons undone. Silver chains hung from his belt loops, matching his rings and the barbell in his tongue that had just recently finished healing. Another silver chain sat around his wrist which was soon joined by a hair tie, his boots thudding heavily– even on the carpet– when he grabbed it from your nightstand.

“I don’t know how much of a club person I’m gonna be,” He warned you. “I don’t really dance.”

“Just because you don’t doesn’t mean you can’t,” You pointed out. “And you don’t really have to dance, I’m not expecting you to waltz. You just have to grind on me, and that I know you can do.”

He gave a conceding sigh. “Fine, I guess if it’s an excuse to dry hump you in public we can go.”

“Ever the romantic, Munson.”

The others were already ordering the first round when you got there, the bartender passing out shots until you reached the bar and Steve pushed two more toward you. “Took you guys long enough!” He called over the music.

“Can’t rush perfection, Harrington.” Grabbing the small glass, you passed the other one to Eddie. Knocking it back, you determined it was vodka and not tequila with a grateful nod to Robin. “Are we getting a table?”

“You two grab one, I wanna get another round!” Robin shouted back with enthusiasm.

Flashing her a thumbs up, you grabbed a hold of Eddie’s hand and ushered him toward a big, dimly lit corner booth. “There’s a lot ‘a people here,” He observed as you set your purse on the table.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Drawing him in with your arms around his neck, you hummed, “Just you ‘n me, as far as I’m concerned.”

He palmed at your ass through the silky black satin of your dress as he countered, “The things I’d do to you if it were just you ‘n me would get us arrested if I did them here, babe.”

“Alright, you guys can play grab-ass in a minute, we’re doing more shots!” Steve called as the three of them approached the table, all of them carrying at least one.

“No more for me, I’ve gotta take her home after all this.” Leaning over your shoulder, he prepared to push it back across the table to Steve but was stopped by your hand over his.

“Uh, excuse you. I can drink for two, thank you.” Holding his hands up in surrender, he raised his eyebrows, making a smile crack through your falsely offended expression. He didn’t blink as he watched you swallow down one shot after the other. A clear droplet escaped your mouth, rolling down your neck to disappear between the valley of your breasts and into your dress. He could so vividly imagine how it would taste to follow the intoxicating trail with his tongue.

His gaze was ripped from your chest by the snap of Steve’s fingers, who was giving him a knowing, playfully chastising look. “Could you keep it in your pants a little while longer, Munson?”

You were too engrossed in a conversation with Nancy to pay them any mind as he responded. “Shh, you’re gonna get me in trouble. And I’ll have you know, I have the patience of a saint,” He added unconvincingly.

That finally got your attention, making you let out a little snort. “Oh-kay, babe, if you say so.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just c’mon, I’m ready to dance!”

“You mean you’ve drank enough to now?” He scoffed as you dragged him away from the table.

“Yep!” The music vibrated through the floors as you led him through the half-crowded dance floor. You weaved through the various friends, couples, and parties until you found a comfortable gap. Your boyfriend just chuckled and shook his head.

Turning to face him, you let your arms settle loosely around his neck once again as you moved to the music. His hands squeezed at your waist before moving lower to knead at the small of your back. The two of you eyed each other lovingly, with you brushing a few unruly strands of hair back from his face as he admired the hazy halo the lights cast around you. Before you could think of something to say to excuse your silent drooling, the sound of the next song beginning distracted you. The soft, deep thrum of guitars and bass had the faintest excited gasp escaping your lips. “I love this song!”

raven hair and ruby lips

sparks fly from her fingertips

echoed voices in the night

she’s a restless spirit on an endless flight

His hands held you steady as you bowed back ever so slightly, head tilting as you swayed in his arms. You slowly began to wind your hips in time with the music, silently mumbling the chorus. Eddie smiled softly, humming along as he watched your eyes fall closed.

woo-hoo, witchy woman

see how high she flies

woo-hoo, witchy woman

she got the moon in her eye

He caught you by surprise when he took both of your hands, spinning you and bringing his arms over your head to cross around your waist. You giggled and squealed quietly, tilting your head to look over your shoulder at him as your back pressed to his chest. “See, Munson, you’ve got moves!”

“As long as I still don’t have t’a dust off my waltz, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” He promised.

 

she held me spellbound in the night

dancin’ shadows and firelight

crazy laughter in another room

and she drove herself to madness with a silver spoon

You could already feel him half-hard against you as you wound your hips more intently. Eddie’s fingers dragged up your fishnet-covered thighs, lifting the skirt of your dress dangerously high before moving to grab at your waist again. “Driving me fuckin’ crazy, baby. Know I love you so much, right?”

Head falling back against his chest, you gazed up at him with glossy eyes and a tipsy grin. “I love you too, Eds. Love you so much.” His hands wandered, rubbing over your sides and your stomach as his hips ground into you. Your own hand reached back to wind into his hair, curls growing frizzier in the warmth of the club. Goosebumps began to raise on your skin when he mouthed sloppily at your neck, teeth grazing a sensitive spot before lifting to tug at your earlobe. With the way the blood was rushing in his veins and his head was starting to swim, he may as well have been as drunk as you. The sweet smell of your perfume and the taste of your skin was still enough to make the room spin.

woo-hoo, witchy woman

see how high she flies

woo-hoo, witchy woman

she got the moon in her eye

Far be it from him to complain when you grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him in the direction of the bathroom before the song could even reach its instrumental break. You had never been so grateful for a single-person restroom in your life. Eddie hissed and laughed when you let the door slam shut, fingers clawing at the buttons of his shirt as he reached around you to lock it.

You only managed to get two of the buttons undone before his hand covered yours, pressing it against his chest to stop you as he chuckled softly. “Baby, baby– not here.”

Huffing, you pouted up at him. “Then why’d you let me bring you in here?”

“Well, it wasn’t to strip naked in a public bathroom,” He confirmed. Urging you backward, he didn’t stop until your lower back met the sink counter. “I do seem to remember a promise a certain someone made me a couple months ago, though.”

“Eddie,” You whine. Clutching at his shirt, you tried to draw his body to yours completely as he stood between your legs. “I don’t remember, just touch me. I’ll do whatever you want me to later, but–”

“Oh, I’m gonna need that in writing, babe. Right now, though, you just have to lean back and spread your legs f’me. Okay, sweet girl?”

Nodding, you were already sighing in relief when his hands guided your thighs back toward your chest. He peeled your panties to the side from underneath your fishnets, and it wasn’t until you felt his tongue drag through the wetness he found there that you finally remembered the oh-so-important promise you’d made. 

well, i know you want a lover; let me tell you, brother

she’s been sleepin’ in the devil’s bed

and there’s some rumors going ‘round, someone’s underground

she can rock you in the nighttime ‘til your skin turns red

You were already a mess, your dress bunched around your waist and straps falling off your shoulders. Your disheveled hair wouldn’t be so easy to fix, but it was clear to see you had little concern for what your fellow patrons would think. No, you were too focused on the feeling of Eddie sliding two fingers into you as his tongue ring massaged your clit.

If he were a responsible boyfriend, he would remind you to quiet down, but he just couldn’t help himself. He loved when you got drunk– loved when he could see the tension in your shoulders melt away and you got warm, and giggly, and loud– loved when you’d moan and gasp his name without even realizing you were doing it because the first and only thing you were thinking about was how good he made you feel. 

So, when you cried out that you were gonna come, he didn’t stop. He didn’t hush you, or cover your mouth with his hand. He just crooked his fingers to the spot he knew always made your insides melt and hummed encouragingly against the wet warmth of your cunt, mesmerized by the sight of you writhing on the counter before him.

Hips still twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, you pulled him to you for a sloppy kiss that had him panting like a dog in heat. The doe-eyed look you gave him when you finally spoke was almost enough to make him drop to his knees for you a second time. “Take me home, Eds.”

woo-hoo, witchy woman

see how high she flies

woo-hoo, witchy woman

she got the moon in her eye

<3

————————————————————————

————————————————————————

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

#too much in common #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x f!reader smut #18+ mdni #asks

[scourgeofgotham]

Beauty and The Beast

chapter two

Warnings: SMUT 18+

Graphic Sexual Content, Crying, Unresolved Trauma, M! Receiving Oral, Face-Fucking, Degradation, Boot Humping, Dom/Sub, Slapping, Praise! Kink, Begging, DD/LG, Mentions of Breeding, Stockholm Syndrome(develops), Mentions of Underage Sex, Mentions of Rape, Non-Con, Mentions of self-mutilation

A/N:

Jason is 19, the reader is 18. Jason’s thoughts are in bold italic and the readers are in bold.

Past is in italic

She got lured out by a masked villian named the Arkham Knight,

“If you want to find out what happened to Robin, meet me on top of R.H. Kane.

Wear the Batgirl uniform.”

The first time they ever kissed was on their first date, she couldn’t contain the happiness any longer and grabbed his face and kissed him. He looked so shocked but there was a small smile that crept up on his face. It was two weeks after they met, they were out just getting pizza and she was practically all over him. Her bad boy, all hers.

The first night he was wearing the Robin costume was the night she realized how much she loved him. Three months later Bruce made Jason his ward. Their rooms were right next to each other and they made a hole in between bedside tables, so they could go into each other's rooms without Bruce or Alfred finding out. They would swap what bed they would sleep together in, he would poke fun at her Care Bears and her dolphin pillow pet. They were absolute lovebirds, he loved the attention. She loved getting to love someone and for someone to care for her. Both of their parents were monsters. They had no one, and when they met Bruce they finally had a family. The good girl and her bad boy. Belle and the Beast. Canary and Jaybird. Violet and Crimson. The First Daughter and The Second Son. The Bat and the Knight. Batgirl and Robin.

They were unstoppable, two teenagers in love fighting crime. Just like Dick and Barbara. They never left each other's side, all they wanted was to be with each other. She started ditching school to be with him at his school. Bruce ultimately had to pull her out of school. Little did he know she was going to see his newly adopted son at his school and sit in the library giving him handjobs while helping him with his homework.

“Awww do you want me to stay right here Peanut?” God she looks so pretty crying and all needy, I want to take off my helmet and kiss her all over.

She looks up at him, crying from how big his dick is, and how she wishes he was her Robin. She was grinding on his boot so hard it made her whole body shake. She loved how he was making her feel.

If I don't escape soon… this is torturing me.

“Such a good little slut, are you about to cum all over my boot?” Brings her back to reality. She looked up at the Knight and nodded, mouth still full with his cock. “Wait for Daddy.” He snickered, using the accidental pet name from earlier. She started blushing and getting all embarrassed again. He started moving his foot back and forth against her clit, “Feel good Peanut?” She nodded in response, wanting to please him.

“C'mon Belle, you gotta milk Daddy's cock in order to cum.”

Belle?

She pulled him out of her mouth and started focusing on his tip, sucking on the head and then swirling her tongue around in motions in between. Jason always told her to focus on the head and use her hands for his shaft.

“Good girl Belle, you want Daddy to cum huh?” She looked up at him and nodded her head. “Such a little whore, trying to make your kidnapper cum, what would Batman think?” She could feel him twitching in her mouth, so she picked up the pace so she could be done and over with it already.

“You know Daddy is about to cum huh? You wanna cum so bad, don’t you princess? Are you sure you don’t want me to fuck that tight little pussy after?”

She contemplated, she did want it. She was aching for it, and the thought of her being fucked by a mysterious man made her even more aroused, getting cockdrunk. Except, if she accepted it then she wouldn't be Jason’s princess anymore, and she wouldn’t be pure. She spent countless nights horny, wanting to feel and touch her Jaybird, wanting him to come back from the dead and make her feel good. She wanted the Knight to decide for her, she would complain if he did fuck her, and would if he didn't.

I wanna see his face…

Her heart and her pussy said yes, but her brain kept telling her no.

“C'mon Belle, you have to decide. Daddy can make you feel all good, and he can breed that princess cunt too. He can help take all of your worries away, you won't have to fight anymore, and Daddy will take care of you. You'll be mine, princess.” Upon hearing all of that from the Knight, she came all over his boot and ultimately decided that she wanted him to fuck her. The Knight grabbed her hair and shoved his cock in deeper, cumming in her mouth. “I want every drop swallowed.” She swallowed immediately, opening her mouth and showing. “Good girl.” he praised, he touched her face rubbing her cheek. He picked her up and placed her on the bed, which she didn't realize until now had a Care Bear on it. “Your little Robin told me how much you love your Care Bears and since I'm never gonna let you go I stole it from your bedroom.” The Knight mocked.

He's been in my room?

“W-What?” she was terrified, and her whole body started shaking. “Why do you want me?” She put the emphasis on me.

“I thought you would be a great slave for me.” he chimed. He grabbed the same knife as before and started cutting the rest of the Batgirl suit, starting from the top of the crotch up to her neck. Once he got the top cut off he worked on getting her out. When she was fully out she started trying to run away from him, and immediately got pulled back by the Knight. He slapped her and held her down at her wrists. “Stop trying to run, you can't.”

Seeing her in her bra and her pretty little panties, she had a yellow sports bra on, and a tiny pair of cheeky panties with little yellow daisies all over, with an embroidered daisy on the front. “Oh, Belle. I didn't know that these were this pretty or else I would have gotten you out of that suit a long time ago.” He was enamored, staring at the tiny piece of fabric that was soaking wet. Her panties couldn't hold anymore and all of her arousal was trickling down her thighs. “You're soaked, Belle.” Seeing how wet she was for him got him rock-hard. “Too bad you won’t be needing underwear anymore.” he snickered. He let go of her wrists and put his knee on her stomach making sure she couldn't try an escape again. He started taking off her bra and as soon as it was up high enough her large breasts fell out. “Look at those pretty tits, so big and perky.” He threw the bra across the room and started groping her breasts. He moved on and got off of her and held her down with his hand on his stomach. He pulled off the panties slowly wanting to make her squirm. Her whole face was bright red. He took them off after what felt like hours and stuffed them in his pocket.

He started looking at her body and was eyeing her waist and saw scars littered across her skin. He then looked at the rest of her body and saw that her whole body was covered in self-inflicted wounds. “Oh, Belle. Why would you do this to yourself?” he asked, his voice modulator covering up how sad he was seeing his princess covered in scars. She tried covering up her body feeling embarrassed and ashamed. “It's my fault he's dead. I deserve to be in pain, I deserve to be punished.” She started crying, putting her hands up to her face to cover her tears. He moved her hands to uncover and looked at her. “It's not your fault Belle.”

“You don't have to do any of that to your body anymore, you won’t be allowed to have sharp objects under my watch. I'm gonna make you feel amazing and get you all cockdrunk. What do you say, Princess? You wanna thank Daddy for rescuing you from Bruce? So you can be Daddy’s little slave forever and never have to go outside again? I can bring you everything you want and need.”

Bruce?

#jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd #batman #red hood #arkham knight #smut #angst #with a little bit of fluff

[bunmurdock]

//hiii im that anon from before!! wrote this quick blurb for you because im too shy to actually post it but i hope you like it!!

usually, you're able to be patient while matt finishes his work. in fact, you pride yourself in it. the way he smiles at you as he slips his coat onto your shoulders, ready to take you home and away from his office, it fills you with pride.

except for tonight.

you're tired. you had a long day at work, and now matt is ignoring you. but you know that he knows how frustrated and worked up you are.

half because he's just that good at reading you, half because you're hanging all over him. your head is on his shoulder as you sit in his lap, trying to get his attention as he listens to the latest case he has to work on.

and on top of that, you're rolling your hips against him, and whining. at some point, he grabs your chin in his hand.

"quit the whining, bun." he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips, a sharp contrast to his sharp words. "you know i don't want to be rough with you after a long day. i'd much rather take care of you." he hums, his hands beginning on your knees, slowly inching up towards your panties.

you weigh your options.

"make me." you tell him. you see his jaw tighten, and just as quickly as his hands were on you, they're off. with ease, he picks you up off his lap and puts you on the floor, not exactly gently. you look up at him confused, before he just clicks his tongue, something he does every time the two of you start a game like this.

"i know you know better than to just sit there and look at me all dumb, baby." he says, his foot positioned perfectly for you to ride his boot. "go on, i know you can get off on my boot, dumb mutt." he hums, and then he turns his attention back to his work.

selfishly, you do just that. you begin to hump against his boot, and when you begin to let out a whine, matt's hand is in your hair. he pushes your hair back, before pulling on it with all of his pent up frustration.

when you let out a loud whine at this, he just rolls his eyes.

"gotta be quiet, bunny." he hums. "don't want daddy to think you're enjoying this, do we?"

you shake your head, and he mocks the shaking of your head with a wicked smirk. you try and hide your face in the fabric of his pants as you rutt against his boot, but he pulls your hair again.

his hand finds your chin, and he squeezes your face so that your mouth is in the shape of an 'o', before leaning down and spitting in your mouth-- you do not try and stop him, just letting out a soft whimper. before you can really react though, his hand moves from his grip on your chin, before slipping two fingers into your mouth.

you immediately latch onto them, happily sucking on his fingers, not minding so much when he toys with you, slowly pushing his fingers back to gag you, just to smell your salty tears in the air as you gag against his fingers.

every time you whine, he just shushes you gently, a stark contrast to his rough movements.

"every time you whine, i get distracted and lose my place, mutt. keep it up and i'll never finish my work, and you'll spend all night riding my boot without cumming. don't make me repeat myself, honey," he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your head, "dumb puppies know how to follow orders, right?"

putting this under read more bc i want ppl to read n reblog - pls 🙏

MEAN!MM? 😳 BOOTRIDING? 😳 "DUMB MUTT""?!?!?!?! 😵‍💫 WAIT DID YOU WRITE THIS OR DID I HOW DID YOU REACH INTO MY BRAIN AND PULL OUT ALL MY FANTASIES NONNIE SOBBBBBBBBBB

i felt a dizzying flush come over me @ "go on, i know you can get off on my boot, dumb mutt" i had to close out of this ask and go back in bc . ok. like i need to be his dumb mutt so bad. i need him to verbally degrade and bully and stand over her n tug on her hair and step on her a lil while she's crawlin aronud on all fours abd blame it on her bein dumb and an easy target *—*

"dumb puppies know how to follow orders, right?" OUGH and "you see his jaw tighten, and just as quickly as his hands were on you, they're off." SCREAM no bc what is it about this man bein unrelengting but not raising his voice that is so brain-metlingly hot i need him to beat me up while shushing me which speaking of-

"every time you whine, he just shushes you gently, a stark contrast to his rough movements." sorry but i need him to shush me the way he was doing to that dude in s1e2 before he threw him off a building . u are EVIL for putting this image in my head i need to mayhaps jump off a building.. ALSO the spitting in her mouth and finger-fucking it deeper oh nonnie i dob't feel so well i don't thibk . fuzzy brain disesase taking hold yowling really really really loud

seriosuly nonnie did you steal this from my brain because thisis eveything i want i do not deserve u thank you so much holy fkn shit i jus keep rereading this..

#matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #mean!matt murdock #i love you so much this is like the best thing thats ever happened to this silly blog #if you ever want to promote any of your stuff i'd love to rblog - jus lemme know who you are in dm or put me in your taglists! ur magical #with words 🫶 #inbox

[specterings]

thinking about alex keller being your puppy

nsfw under the cut

cw / pet play as a life style, ftm alex &. ftm reader, collars &. leashes, oral (both receiving), strap ons, strap on w/ a knot, penetrating for alex &. reader, pillow humping, boot grinding / worship, frotting, squirting, implied breeding kink, alex is called puppy, pup, etc, ftm terms used: cunt, pussy, cock, dick

thinking about alex who loves being on his knees for you. loves letting you pet his head, loves laying on the couch, curled up with you. loves wearing collars with your name on the back of the tag.

loves letting you plan out his meals and cook for him, making sure your pup only gets the best. loves when you’re both out at the bar with friends and your hand is always clasped on the back of his neck, or resting heavy on his thigh. loves being your little accessory.

alex who loves eating you out, who loves having his snout buried in your cunt and lapping and whining. alex who loved when hes sleeping on his dog bed under your desk and then waking up feeling you lazily slightly the toe of your boot between his legs, knocking against his little dick. “jus’ wanted to shine my shoes, puppy. go back to sleep,” even though you know he cant.

alex getting on his knees and grinding against your boots, rubbing his cunt all over the black leather to make it shine because hes a good boy, okay? he is. he knows its not enough to get him off, that its just working him up, but the more worked up he is the slicker his pussy is the shinier your shoes are. he humps against it like a mutt under youre nudging his thigh with the other boot and hes switching over, puffy little cock desperate and aching, but still being such a good boy for you and shining your shoes.

when hes finally done, and he sees his slick starting to dry on your other boot, he leans down to lick it clean, slotting a pillow between his thighs to hump against as you laugh at him for being so desperate.

alex who loves rubbing your cocks together, who loves to be pinned down to the bed and forced to just accept the fact that youre just teasing him, rubbing your pussies together, your bigger dick nudging his every so often but dragging through his folds until you cum. then leaning down and sucking him off until he’s squealing as he squirts.

alex who loves when you let him fuck you, a big cock with a knot at the end plunging into you as you call him your good boy, your sweet puppy, that you never could find a better puppy. alex who only shoves the knot in when he cums, panting into your neck as he grinds it deeper into you, stupid puppy brain telling him he needs to make sure it takes.

alex who also loves when you fuck him, leash attached to his collar and pulling it back so he’ll arch his back. silicone tail plug wagging as you pound into him. “this why you chewed up my cord, huh?” you grunt, snapping your hips into his, “your little puppy parts not getting enough attention? poor baby. gotta make sure youre always stuffed full so you dont act out, huh? should get another puppy in here, let him fuck you whenever you want so you’ll stop bothering me.”

#cal writes. #n/sft #ftm #alex keller #echo 3 1 #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x reader

[veronicathegoddess]

thinking about mouthing him off and telling him that he can’t even make you cum, that you’ve been faking it this entire time. that evening, you’re apologetic, batting your eyelashes, innocent eyes staring up at him as you sit on his lap and tell him that you didn’t mean it.

usually it works. he’ll sigh and tell you it’s okay and you’ll smile, knowing you’ve gotten out of trouble, before getting on your knees and giving him head. but tonight, he’s furious and determined to teach you a lesson. he shoves you off his lap onto the floor and tells you to stay there on the floor.

he opens the bedside table and pulls out a fleshlight and says “since i can’t possibly ever satisfy you, you’re just going to watch me fuck something that isn’t a mouthy ungrateful bitch”

you open your mouth to protest, but you’re only halfway through the first word when he backhands you. as you look up at him with teary eyes because he’s never hit you like that before, his face softens.

he brushes your cheek gently cooing, “it’s okay baby, you just gotta learn a lesson. so you’re gonna hump my boot and watch me okay princess.” as you lift your skirt and straddle his shoe, he lubes his cock and slides it into the fleshlight.

and you’re humping away at his shoe, thoroughly unsatisfied because you can’t even pay attention. you’re too busy staring up at his cock fucking the toy, the way it should be fucking you and your cunt clenches around nothing. he notices and looks down at you smirking “oh you want it huh princess?” you nod foolishly believing that he’s gonna go easy on you. instead he just laughs “aww well that’s just too bad baby” 

you whine, the sound barely audible over the slick sounds of his cock going in and out of the silicone and he laughs more “just think, this could’ve been you. could’ve been your cunt getting filled like this. getting fucked like this but you just had to be a fucking brat. so stop fucking whining and come suck my balls to help me give my cum to something that actually wants it and keep grinding your fucking cunt too or i’ll have another lesson to teach you”

#may have gotten a smidge carried away here #but idc #this is *chefs kiss* #i am literally obsessed with pissing off soft doms #and watching them hit their breaking point #and getting put in my place and being reminded that i belong to them #so hot #mine

[kingkatsuki]

The best part about him knowing agency drama is that he probably knows what is and isn't true. So if you like him? Gotta be false. There isn't a chance in hell that someone like you likes him. It would take someone deliberately spreading the truth rumors about why you want him.

The way someone in the office overhears your conversation about having the biggest crush on your boss, talking about the lewd things you want him to do to you and how much you wished he fancied you back.

And of course these rumours get back to Bakugou because its Bakugou, but he scoffs when he hears it because you're right- ain't no fucking way you'd like him.

So now he's trying to find out the source of this rumour, because he doesn't like the idea of someone spreading lies about you regardless of how much he likes hearing that you might actually like him (even if its not real).

So imagine his surprise when he comes out of the office and into the break room to overhear you talking about how you wish he would just bend you over his desk whenever you bring him his paperwork, or the way you want to literally hump his boots whenever he's dressed in his hero outfit and he nearly drops his coffee mug.

Because now how can he not believe the rumours when he's heard them straight from the source...

#I'm just obsessed with this like having that kinda work relationship with Bakugou? I'd die #soft bakugou