#bookmark whatever you feel like

[leighsartworks216]

Since the discussion of commenting on ao3 (or really any creative work) is going around, just a reminder that your comments don't have to be this pristine pinnacle of human joy. You can just say "i want to eat this art" "i want this carved into my ribcage" etc etc. The intense and strange genuineness carries through - we understand that it moved you so deeply that you are experiencing a visceral love for it

And you don't even have to say that!! You can literally just be like "<3" "i love this" "beautiful" etc etc. The fact you took a brief moment out of your day to comment at all means so much more than you can imagine

So yeah comment on shit that makes you happy or moves you in some way

[kohakhearts]

i love when people bookmark my fics and leave comments there. i really do. but if your comment is just a rating out of 10, like...buddy, just make it private next time. this isnt a school assignment?

[consciouschunkofmoss]

yoo how do i tell my father who is very much as stubborn as one can get that i dont in fact like google and dont want to use anything from it specially google drive because i think its pretty fucking disgusting to have to give this much information about myself solely so then i can store files to a place which ill forget about in less than an hour that will most likely be monitored by google too 💖

[lamentfulwarbler]

I pulled an icarus or something and now imposter syndrome is kicking in can i get a *spontaneously combusts*

[spacedkey]

if you ignore the fact that i'm not making a comic in the vertical scrolling comic style, me doing almost nothing but reading webcomics all day is research 100% for sure

[insertdisc5]

📚 A List Of Useful Websites When Making An RPG 📚

My timeloop RPG In Stars and Time is done! Which means I can clear all my ISAT gamedev related bookmarks. But I figured I would show them here, in case they can be useful to someone. These range from "useful to write a story/characters/world" to "these are SUPER rpgmaker focused and will help with the terrible math that comes with making a game".

This is what I used to make my RPG game, but it could be useful for writers, game devs of all genres, DMs, artists, what have you. YIPPEE

Writing (Names)

Behind The Name - Why don't you have this bookmarked already. Search for names and their meanings from all over the world!

Medieval Names Archive - Medieval names. Useful. For ME

City and Town Name Generator - Create "fake" names for cities, generated from datasets from any country you desire! I used those for the couple city names in ISAT. I say "fake" in quotes because some of them do end up being actual city names, especially for french generated ones. Don't forget to double check you're not 1. just taking a real city name or 2. using a word that's like, Very Bad, especially if you don't know the country you're taking inspiration from! Don't want to end up with Poopaville, USA

Writing (Words)

Onym - A website full of websites that are full of words. And by that I mean dictionaries, thesauruses, translators, glossaries, ways to mix up words, and way more. HIGHLY recommend checking this website out!!!

Moby Thesaurus - My thesaurus of choice!

Rhyme Zone - Find words that rhyme with others. Perfect for poets, lyricists, punmasters.

In Different Languages - Search for a word, have it translated in MANY different languages in one page.

ASSETS

In general, I will say: just look up what you want on itch.io. There are SO MANY assets for you to buy on itch.io. You want a font? You want a background? You want a sound effect? You want a plugin? A pixel base? An attack animation? A cool UI?!?!?! JUST GO ON ITCH.IO!!!!!!

Visual Assets (General)

Creative Market - Shop for all kinds of assets, from fonts to mockups to templates to brushes to WHATEVER YOU WANT

Velvetyne - Cool and weird fonts

Chevy Ray's Pixel Fonts - They're good fonts.

Contrast Checker - Stop making your text white when your background is lime green no one can read that shit babe!!!!!!

Visual Assets (Game Focused)

Interface In Game - Screenshots of UI (User Interfaces) from SO MANY GAMES. Shows you everything and you can just look at what every single menu in a game looks like. You can also sort them by game genre! GREAT reference!

Game UI Database - Same as above!

Sound Assets

Zapsplat, Freesound - There are many sound effect websites out there but those are the ones I saved. Royalty free!

Shapeforms - Paid packs for music and sounds and stuff.

Other

CloudConvert - Convert files into other files. MAKE THAT .AVI A .MOV

EZGifs - Make those gifs bigger. Smaller. Optimize them. Take a video and make it a gif. The Sky Is The Limit

Marketing

Press Kitty - Did not end up needing this- this will help with creating a press kit! Useful for ANY indie dev. Yes, even if you're making a tiny game, you should have a press kit. You never know!!!

presskit() - Same as above, but a different one.

Itch.io Page Image Guide and Templates - Make your project pages on itch.io look nice.

MOOMANiBE's IGF post - If you're making indie games, you might wanna try and submit your game to the Independent Game Festival at some point. Here are some tips on how, and why you should.

Game Design (General)

An insightful thread where game developers discuss hidden mechanics designed to make games feel more interesting - Title says it all. Check those comments too.

Game Design (RPGs)

Yanfly "Let's Make a Game" Comics - INCREDIBLY useful tips on how to make RPGs, going from dungeons to towns to enemy stats!!!!

Attack Patterns - A nice post on enemy attack patterns, and what attacks you should give your enemies to make them challenging (but not TOO challenging!) A very good starting point.

How To Balance An RPG - Twitter thread on how to balance player stats VS enemy stats.

Nobody Cares About It But It’s The Only Thing That Matters: Pacing And Level Design In JRPGs - a Good Post.

Game Design (Visual Novels)

Feniks Renpy Tutorials - They're good tutorials.

I played over 100 visual novels in one month and here’s my advice to devs. - General VN advice. Also highly recommend this whole blog for help on marketing your games.

I hope that was useful! If it was. Maybe. You'd like to buy me a coffee. Or maybe you could check out my comics and games. Or just my new critically acclaimed game In Stars and Time. If you want. Ok bye

[chaosandmarigolds]

(Ahem ahem) I have a new thing, cause I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional man leave me alone

Husband!Simon who loves doing handy man tasks, he finds it nice to do something’s aside from rest on his time off

Husband!Simon who might has well just grope you at this point because the man insists on having a hand somewhere on you whenever he’s in arms reach

Husband!Simon who secretly loves it when you stand on his shoes or even his slippers to reach just a bit taller to kiss him

Husband!Simon who does have a robe and slippers because he makes him feel nice (you told him he had to, you were matching)

Husband!Simon who keeps the weddings like ‘Mr & Missus’ trinkets they gave to the guests, cards, bookmark, or whatever he keeps one in his wallet

Husband!Simon who lives for date nights, sure he lives with you but it makes him happy to see you all giddy and excited

Husband!Simon who does want to kill someone when he catches them hitting in you in a Home Depot or tools shop

Husband!Simon who just makes you match the pain color you want when he gets home from there in (doesn’t care if he has to go back and forth seven times)

Husband!Simon who likes to be the bug burly man, the protector of the house, sure he was used to the role but it never felt so important as it did with you and then

Husband!Simon who would simply just die if anything happened to you- or a lot of other people would

[after-witch]

Fever Pitch [Yandere Geto Suguru x Reader]

Title: Fever Pitch [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: Geto’s been hit by a lust curse, and you take what little control you have to avoid him snapping. Follow-up to Bus Stop.

Word Count: 3200ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, dubcon, sex, some mentions of past degradation 

 It’s funny, the way you can get used to anything. When you were first taken,  you would have sworn--on your heart, your soul, on blood from a cut on your palm--that you would fight, hiss, and spit at Geto until the day you died. 

And now here you are, nestled on a seat cushion in his sitting room, quietly reading a book while he’s off collecting curses and doing favors that aren’t really true favors at all. The person assigned to you today is a familiar face, someone you don’t entirely detest, if only because they are content to keep an eye on you without emanating visible hatred towards your existence at every second.

They were even kind--or what classifies as “kind” here--enough to lend you their scissors a few weeks ago, when someone stuck a wad of sticky bubble gum in your hair as they passed you in a hallway. Sure, they kept an eye on you the entire time in order to make sure you weren’t trying to stab yourself (or anyone else); but they said nothing as you hacked at your own hair, eventually giving yourself a passable pixie cut.

Geto had raised his eyebrows when he came back that day, and had a quiet word with your keeper. But you didn’t get punished, so that was that. Cutting off your hair felt good, even. Like you were cutting out whatever part of yourself was still simmering in pointless anger at  your situation. Why be angry, why be in despair, when nothing you did mattered? You ran once. He found you. If you bothered to run again--not that you’d get the chance--he would find you again. And again. 

It was better to find something like enjoyment instead of wallowing. 

Wasn’t it?

Besides, even Geto had been different since the day he found you. He seemed content for you to be a quiet pet again. He no longer visited you in the night, touching you, forcing pleasures and sounds you didn’t want to experience from his fingers, even as he commanded you to always keep your arms away from him. He was allowed to touch--but you weren’t allowed to touch him. You hated it. 

But he hadn’t touched you in the slightest intimate way since that day. Unless you counted the condescending head pats as intimate, which you certainly did not. 

You hear Geto’s footsteps, and your muscles tense in preparation. You carefully set a bookmark in your book and set it aside; he didn’t like it when you paid attention to a book instead of him. Especially when he’d been gone for most of the day. 

But something’s wrong. Something’s different.

These are not the orderly footsteps of Geto returning to his rooms at the end of a (horribly) productive day. These steps are staggered--hesitant. 

Strange.

Your current keeper stands when Geto enters, but he simply dismisses them with a wave of his hand and an unusually curt: “Leave.” 

They hazard a glance at you--it almost feels kind--before swiftly grabbing their bag and walking away, hurried steps echoing in the hallway that leads to his suite of rooms.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Geto begins to shed his clothing. Now this wasn’t unusual. He preferred to wear only a casual outfit around you, some trousers and a light top most of the time. What was unusual was the undignified manner in which he did it, simply peeling away his layers and tossing them on the ground, all the while his breath seemed to come in quiet, stuttering pants.

It’s enough to make you break your gaze from the floor and look at him.

Geto looks… ill. His cheeks are flushed and yes, his chest is heaving a little as he takes in short, frenzied breaths. Even the skin of his neck and collar had a slight glow to it, like he’d been exercising vigorously or done something terribly embarrassing. 

“Geto?” You ask, hesitantly. You flick your eyes back down to the floor, where you’re told they belong until he says otherwise. 

He doesn’t answer. The final layers of his robes drop to the floor. 

Normally, he would approach you now, calmly. He might tilt your chin up with his hand and ask what you did today--if you were good, if you behaved. 

Instead he staggers away, catching himself on the corner of a table.

“Geto?” You try again, voice higher, more concerned. 

You look up to see him with both palms splayed on the table, breaths coming in deeper huffs. His skin is still flushed--it’s so strange--and you swear the room feels warmer than it did a few moments ago. 

His fingers curl against the table into a tight fist, then release, then curl again. His breath comes in more ragged by the moment. There’s an unmistakable soft groan--in pain? Discomfort?

“Are you… all right?” You ask, and do the boldest thing possible in your present situation, which happens to be standing up on shaky legs and taking a step towards him.

“Don’t.” The word is practically growled out, and your muscles freeze for the moment, keeping you in place.

He turns to look at you, but instead of looking angry, he looks… desperate. His eyes roam over you and his lips part, and you see the edge of his tongue reach out to lick a dry patch as he struggles to regain control over his breath. 

The expression hits you and it’s oh-so familiar and you don’t like it at all.

Geto isn’t sick. 

He’s aroused.

You reach up to clutch at your shirt, fidgeting with the fabric like it might actually provide comfort in this unsure situation.

“What… happened?” 

He doesn’t answer at first. His mouth twists into something like a grin, but it’s twitchy, uncontrolled. He chuckles slowly.

“A curse. I should have taken a closer look, but--” He lets out a pained sigh and squeezes his eyes shut. “I was distracted. Foolish. Stupid.”

You--perhaps foolish, stupid--take a step forward. Little pieces find themselves fitting together in your brain, trying to create a plan for what will come ahead. It’s how you’ve managed to survive so far, isn’t it? Taking in everything about your situation and acting accordingly to preserve your health and sanity?

“What… kind of curse?” You ask, and take more steps, until you’re close enough that you can feel some of the unnatural warmth from his body. 

He looks at you slowly, his eyes almost rolling in a way that makes your stomach turn. You perhaps don’t need to actually hear the answer. It’s become clear, with the way he’s panting, the way his skin is flushed, the awful warmth from being so close to him. But it’s best for him to admit it, anyway, and confirm it to your whirring brain.

“Lust.”

Something seems to roil through him and he leans down, groaning in an uninhibited way that makes cold fear crawl up your arms, despite the warmth from Geto’s body. This close, you can see the sweat beading on his forehead, and when you glance down, his hardness is evident through his trousers.

Oh, you’re going to be fucked by the end of the night. You know it. It’s an inevitability. 

What if it’s like before? When he would be rough and fast, and it would feel good and terrible all at the same time? When you felt like you had no control over what was done to you, and what you were made to do? The shame that would spread through your body afterward was nearly unbearable. 

No… it was better to take charge yourself, wasn’t it? The only other option was to wait for him to snap. And if he was influenced by some lust-filled curse, there’s no telling what he might do. 

So you’ll take care of him before he can reach that breaking point. 

“Geto,” you say, and your hand reaches out slowly, like he’s a wild dog (perhaps he is) until it rests just above his back. Close enough for him to sense you. Although attempting to touch him without permission would normally have earned you a slap on the wrist and a reprimand, Geto leans into your palm, letting out a soft, pleased noise, as if your palm resting on his back was something far more wonderful.

“Let me… take care of you,” you manage, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth before you force it loose to say the words. He doesn’t answer, breath still coming out in a pant. 

“Let’s go to the bedroom.” You speak louder, more firmly. More sure of yourself, even if a large part of you is wondering if this is a terrible idea after all. But it’s better to get it over with; to do this on your terms, or as much of your terms as you can manage. You can at least admit that.

Geto doesn’t answer, and you’re about to say something else when he grabs your wrist--it’s too tight, his palm is sweaty--and begins to pull you towards the bedroom. Your house slippers scuff on the floor from the unsteady force of his grip, but you manage not to fall.

Later, you will wonder--if you did trip in that moment, would he have simply taken you on the floor? It was a distinct possibility.

But you don’t fall. You make it to the bedroom and he lets go of you, stripping off his clothes with  a frenzy that is completely unlike him. You don’t wait for an order to remove your own clothing. He might not have even been in the right frame of mind to remember that you’re normally supposed to wait for his order on everything. Or perhaps it has been so long since he’d touched you this way, he didn’t even think of giving it in the first place.

When he turns around, both of you are naked. His hardness is evident, erect and pressing against his flushed body. You can see wetness around his tip and something between your leg twinges in both pleasant anticipation and worry at what this curse-induced arousal might mean for the both of you.

“Well?” He says, voice thick and low. 

You swallow against your throat, against the worries that normally come with seeing Geto naked. You remind yourself that this is different. That you’re taking control, as much as you can get, with him so afflicted. It won’t be like before, surely, when he would use you and leave you alone like the toy that you were afterward. 

“Lay on the bed,” you command. Your body flinches instinctively at the audacity of it. “Please,” you add, but he doesn’t seem to mind your forwardness in this moment. He crawls on the bed and leans back against the pillows, keeping himself half-upright as he watches you. 

You glance down at his cock. It twitches, ever so slightly, and you feel yourself twitch between your legs to match it. Was it because it had been so long? Or because you were the one telling him what to do? Or some awful mixture of both, and more besides? 

It was hard to tell what was normal and what wasn’t in the fucked up state of your existence. 

“Get on the bed.” It’s his turn to give a command, and you’re quick to obey it. For as much as you’re taking the initiative, you can’t let yourself forget who owns you, perhaps literally. Even if he’s currently flushed and woozy and subject to the demands of the arousal forced upon him by some wayward curse.

You climb on the bed and crawl until you’re positioned with your knees on either side of his hips. It’s the first time you’ve been above him. It would be out of the question, you think, before. He liked to remind you where you belonged in the literal sense, and that had extended to sexual positions.

Instinctively, your hands go behind your back, folding primly. You’re not supposed to touch him during sex. You know that. It’s been the rule; it was one of the first things he drilled into your head when he began fucking you. He was allowed to touch you in any way he wanted; stroking and pinching and whatever else fell within his whims. But you? You keep your filthy hands to yourself. 

And so, it’s with your hands behind your back that you carefully begin to lower yourself onto his erect cock. 

He gasps and groans, and you do, too. Your twinges were not enough to get you properly wet, and it hurts as you lower yourself down. But the flush on his face and the feeling of being full after so long begins to grant you the warmth necessary to produce your own slickness, easing the passage just a little as you take all of him in. Not enough for it to be painless. But it’s not like that ever mattered before. 

“Fuck,” he spits out, throwing his head back from there mere sensation of your pussy taking in his erection. You feel yourself clench him and he hisses in delight. It makes you feel a bit giddy, to affect him like this, with so little.

Your fists clench behind your back as he bottoms out inside you, and your own groan joins his as you steady yourself, keeping your balance as you sit on top of him. His cock twitches inside you and you let out a sigh, leaning forward. Your hair tickles your ears.

He’s looking up at you, hips writhing in a way that makes you gasp.

“Touch me.” 

You think you must have misheard him.

“I said touch me,” he says, more forceful, the arousal pulsing through him giving his voice a thick tinge. He thrusts his hips and you bump upwards, in discomfort yes, but also a growing sense of your own arousal at the fullness and friction inside you.

“All--” You gasp when he thrusts again, and perhaps the idea of taking too much control was an illusion. “All right!” Your hands slowly come out from behind your back and with a hesitation that comes from months of being trained otherwise, you slowly lower your hands to rest on his hips.

Slowly, you trail your hands up to his chest, eyeing his nipples. How long had they been erect? Was it before or after you lowered yourself on him? It doesn’t matter. You begin to pull yourself up, timing your own movements with his now-shallow thrusting. As you do, your hands rest on his nipples, rubbing them slowly with your palm--the way he sometimes does to you, if he’s not pinching them harshly to make you squeal.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Just… just like that. Good pet.” 

And there again, the sight of his pleasure from your touch, his raise, makes you clench… which makes him hiss in pleasure, which makes you giddy. 

It’s a wonderful cycle, and so different from all of the other times he’s fucked you. This is almost nice, in its own way. To be above him, mostly in control of how fast you move, how much of him you take in and out as you lift yourself up and down on his cock.

“Faster,” he says, and you don’t mind obeying. One of your hands still toys with his nipple while the other reaches between your own legs and thumbs at your clit. It’s audacious, really--you’re not supposed to pleasure yourself without his permission.

But he doesn’t tell you to stop. Instead he simply watches the way your thumb rubs against your clit; does he enjoy the sight of his cock inside you, the way your pussy takes him as you use your leg muscles to thrust up and down?

He must, because you can feel your own arousal mixing with his, see the way his chest rises faster. Tell-tale signs that he’s getting close.

“Stop,” he orders suddenly. “Get off me.” His voice is still low, still filled with lust, but there’s something else in it. Something more familiar. 

“Geto?” You ask, confused, your own voice coated with arousal that’s just about to reach its peak. It’s disappointing to stop now, but you know better than to disobey. Even right now, or perhaps, especially right now.

He seems to regain a stronger semblance of himself. “Get off,,” he commands, and you do. 

It doesn’t take long to realize why he gave the order. He swiftly grips your arms and flips you on the bed, your back pressing against the sheets that are warm with his own unmistakable body heat.

Now this is familiar. Geto above you, naked, flushed, aroused. And you, beneath him. But this time your arousal was of your own making, and there’s a sort of power in that, you think.

He’s back inside you and by this time you’re wet enough that it simply feels good to be filled again. His wrists keep your own pinned and you murmur a plea, you were so close, Geto--and to your surprise, one of his hands leaves your wrist to begin playing with your clit.

Arousal builds quickly this time, and you come without ceremony, your muscles clenching around him and legs kicking helplessly on the bed as he continues to touch you through your orgasm.

Familiar patterns set in, and as your own orgasm begins to fade out, you know what will happen now. He’ll fuck you faster and pull out as he comes–he refuses to finish inside you–and then leave you to yourself.. Maybe he’ll have to go another round to deal with the effects of this curse, but whatever change had been over him before, allowing you greater freedom, was surely gone.

Only… maybe not.

Because as you feel the familiar sensation of Geto pushing inside you harder and faster as he nears his release, something new happens. Something different. Something that makes butterflies and battery acid flutter in your stomach all at the same time.

He leans down and presses his lips against yours, tentatively at first, then harder, until you open up your mouth and let his tongue inside.

Geto kisses you. It’s a surprisingly passionate kiss, and you let out a yelp of surprise when he grips your chin and kisses you through his own orgasm. 

He doesn’t even pull out. You feel his seed inside you for the first time, a liquid warmth. It’s uncomfortable and strange and you wonder how angry he’ll be, later on, that he did this. 

He doesn’t stop kissing you until you’re breathing heavily through your nose, and when he pulls away you take in a gulp of air.

He stares down at you with something that looks like wonder. At himself… or you? 

“Good pet,” he murmurs. But there’s no condescension in it today. 

There’s an awful, naked vulnerability that washes over you.

Geto let you touch him. Geto kissed you. 

Geto, Geto, Geto…

Was he going to be mad when this curse effect wore off? Would he get rid of you for making him violate so many of his own rules? 

You don’t have time to think about it, because you realize he’s still hard, and he begins to thrust shallowly inside your overstimulated pussy. 

He’ll have to go another round. 

--

Afterward, sleep came without warning. You had simply closed your eyes when Geto finally pulled out and that was that. 

You don’t know how much time has passed when you open your eyes, blinking away the grogginess of an unexpected nap. 

There’s a soreness between your legs, which you expected. There’s the feeling of your body being used, a low openness that combines vulnerability and humiliation in a bittersweet mixture; which you expected.

You don’t expect to blink and see Geto sleeping beside you, his arm slung around your waist, keeping you in place.

Geto never slept with you like this. He would fuck you and use you and sometimes tell you that you were a good pet if he was in a jovial mood--and he would leave. 

You’re afraid to move. If you wake him, will he be angry? Will he be annoyed that he let himself fall asleep beside you? Annoyed with himself for allowing it, or annoyed with you for being there? 

You don’t move, but it doesn’t matter. His eyes flutter open and you feel the warmth of his breath on your face as he takes in the sight before him, as you just did.

He doesn’t furrow his eyebrows in irritation or fling himself out of bed or reprimand you for existing like this in his space. Instead he pulls you closer, until your face is pressed closer to his chest. It makes you feel something--warmth? Affection? Relief that you weren’t being yelled at for being bad?--and your hand slowly leaves your side to curl up against his chest. 

He allows it. 

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs.

And you obey.

[miguel-ohara-eater]

The suit stays on 🕸️

(red: Miguel)

————————————————

————————————————

(summary: he gets home early from work SUPER horny, and he gets right to it with the suit still on.)

CW: masked sex, creampie, angry sex, rough sex, face grabbing, uhh whatever it's called when you can't talk.

————————————————

you were laying in bed reading your favorite book, wearing one of Miguel's big shirts that went down to your mid-thigh as you waited for him to come home.

everyday was the same. you'd lay in bed, he'd come home mad, and you'd cheer him up.

it was the regular ritual, but you didn't mind. you knew his job was stressful and you loved him so you'd do anything to help.

just as you were daydreaming about him as you read your book, you heard the front door open and shut a little louder than usual.

you put your bookmark in your book, setting it aside on the bedside table and you sat up a bit.

he walked through the bedroom door, wearing his spider suit and his mask. he walked over to you, flopping on top of you before you could say anything.

"well hi." you smile and pull him up a bit closer as he wraps his arms around you, and you could hear his heavy panting.

"how was work?" you'd asked as you tried to take off his mask.

he pushed your hand away, burying his face into your shoulder.

"fine." he mumbled

you looked at him, a little confused since he normally wasn't this touchy, let alone since he was still wearing his spider suit.

"wanna talk about it?"

"no."

what a man of many words huh?

he sat up, his hands on both sides of your head and his knees next to both of your hips.

you looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, not able to see his face but he was panting.

"you good? you sound pissed." you went to go put your hands on his waist but he wrapped one hand around both of your wrists and pinned them above your head.

"I said I'm fine." he grunted, and you sighed.

"fine. what do you want me to do to help then?" you huffed

he didn't answer. instead he used his other hand to lift your (his) shirt past your waist and underneath your breasts.

when he looked down he saw you weren't wearing any panties, and since it was ovulation week you were already dripping. he let out a soft 'mmmh', pushing your legs apart with his knee.

"you're not gonna take the suit off?" he shot a web at your mouth, keeping your hands pinned above your head.

"the suit stays on." he mumbled, and you just nodded.

his suit dissipated from the waist down, a pair of spandex thong-like underwear underneath. (in the comics he wears these, sorry!)

he used a talon, sliding them down the middle as if he's got a million pairs of these. his rock hard cock springs to attention, the spandex underwear falling off of him and who knows where.

he tightens his grip on your wrists, pushing apart your legs with his hand and positioning himself in front of you.

once your glistening pussy was right in front of him, he rubbed his cock in your juices, coating himself with a small grunt before pushing his tip into you.

you squeaked, already feeling full just from his tip and you squirmed a bit.

he pressed down on your hips, keeping you still and shoving the rest in with a loud (plap).

you moaned/screeched, and he started thrusting.

"keep squealing like that and I'll make sure to let out any anger for the next three days out on you." he snapped, his thrusting becoming harder and faster.

you closed your eyes, seeing stars and your back arched as you adjusted to his size during the thrusts.

he was still panting, his hips moving at speeds faster you'd even known he could fuck you at. his balls slapping against your ass and your clit nudging his pelvis everytime he bottomed out his thrusts.

"wanna know why I'm so pissed?" his voice was angry, and with every thrust your knuckles knocked against the headboard as he kept your hands pinned above your head.

with how hard he was fucking you, you could barely hear him but you nodded and your breasts bounced at the same rhythm as him.

"Miles Morales broke a canon event." he huffed and thrusted harder (plap)

"Miles Morales didn't listen to me." (plap)

"Miles Morales ran when I tried to explain everything." (plap)

his voice was getting louder, and with how hard he was gripping onto your wrists you knew he was close. and coincidentally you felt your own knot tightening up in your stomach, turned on by seeing him fuck you angrily in his spider suit.

"Miles shocking Morales is going to collapse the multiverse!!"

he let out the loudest groan known to man, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and with your moans and skin slapping, you couldn't tell if he was groaning or yelling anymore.

his pace quickened, his warm seed filling you to the brim as his hips stuttered a bit. he was huffing, still fucking the ever loving shit out of you as his cum started seeping out of your holes.

you couldn't take it anymore, your back arching as a orgasm ripped through you.

your cum soaked his dick, mixed with his and after he fucked you through your orgasm he pulled out. leaving your pussy tightening around nothing and his panting slowed down as he laid on top of you.

after a couple minutes of recollecting your thoughts, he pulled the webs off of your mouth, took his mask off, and let go of your wrists. he made some marks on your wrists, but you didn't care.

you wrapped your arms around him and kissed his head, running your hands through his sweaty hair.

"sorry." he mumbled and you shrugged

"don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure that's the hardest orgasm I've ever had." you smiled and he looked at you, grinning.

"guess we'll have to do this again tomorrow huh?" he said jokingly and you shrugged

"sure."

————————————————

LALALALA okokok. IT'S FINISHED SORRY IT'S LATE 😔

I'm at my aunts house rn and soo tomorrow will be late too. apologies everyone.

I actually kinda liked this one today though 😛

SEE U TOMORROW

————————————————

[fairy-hub]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, period cramps, suguru takes a bath with you, they all refuse to let you walk, pouty reader with Kento because I for one am emotional over tiny things during that time and kento being sweet with me would be everything, making s’mores with Satoru, full of kisses adoration and cuddles, for when you need cuddles and a bath, nap and cuddles or chocolate and cuddles

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: Hi! May I request Suguru with a fem aligned reader (if u do write that but if not, gn is also ok!) who is on their monthly cycle? cramps r hell rn and I need some comfort.

Oreo: Hope this helps 🫶🏽 sorry I couldn't get this out sooner, I wanted to do more characters because I've been in the mood for some comfort too

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Slowly peeling the covers back, gently lifting you off the bed, cradling you to his chest. “Poor Princess, I hate seeing you like this.” You grimace, furrowing your brows. “Sorry my love for moving you.” Covering your cheek in soft kisses.

He doesn't stop until you’re smiling from the sweet attack. “Got our bath ready, the warmth and water should help ease the flow.” Getting lost in his captivating tender warm chocolate eyes.

“Our bath?”

The softness of his voice soothing. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't hold you when you’re cramping? I was thinking I would wash us off afterward, carry you back to bed.” Kissing his hard pec, resting your head against his warm chest, closing your eyes.

You’ve never had someone talk to you with such gentle kindness, look at you with such adoring love or tenderly touch you until Suguru. “You’re better than I deserve.”

“You deserve only the best, and I'm going to give it to you.” Carefully sitting you down on a towel covering the counter protecting you from the cold. Holding your arms up for Suguru to slip the baggy shirt off.

Lifting you off the counter, steadying you on your feet. “You are the best.”

“That’s why I’m your’s.” Pushing your underwear down, for you to step out of. Kissing above your pubic line, gently rubbing in soft circles where you’re cramping the most. After a year of living together he knows your body well.

Using paper tissues to toss your pad in the trash. Lifting you off your feet, cradling you lowering you into the warm, bubble bath. It's the perfect temperature, the water lapping at the back of your neck easing some of your head’s tension.

The bubbles reaching above your head, you have to make a small space otherwise be consumed whole. “You look beautiful and cozy.” Letting out a gentle sigh, the warmth and muscular relaxer soothing your aches.

“This is wonderful, thank you darling.” Suguru slips his sweats down, folding them up to set on the counter. Leaning forward he whips his feet off in the mat, stepping in behind. Carefully sitting down, pulling you into his lap.

Closing your eyes resting your head listening to the music. His chest rumbles when he sings, “Whatever words I say I will always love you, I will always love you, whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am free again.” Kissing the top of your head.

“Your voice sounds like heaven. I want to record you singing, I can listen to it to fall asleep when you’re working late.” Looking up at Suguru’s face, he smiling down at you.

The soft curve of his lips, the love in his eyes, this is what it’s like to be treasured by someone. “Which songs do you want me to sing for you my love?”

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Resting on his chest, eyes closed listening to Kento’s comforting voice reading. “Traveling down the thin winding path, not yet reclaimed by the forest’s growth. Breaking into a small clearing, displaying a partly dilapidated house. Part of the original brick structure standing tall still.” He pauses to flip the page, looking down at you.

Smiling at how you’d fallen asleep on his chest. Grabbing the long thin bookmark you gotten him. Slipping it between the pages, closing the book, setting it aside.

Checking the heating pad, gently making sure it's in place. Carefully lifting the blanket over you, covering you up to your neck. Slipping his glasses off, laying his head down on the pillow behind him. Closing his eyes and enjoying the peace of the moment.

Your cramps had been persisting all morning, at last you were comfortable enough to fall asleep. He loves your soft warm body resting in top of his. The safety in knowing you’re protected, happy and at peace.

The sun has set by the time Kento wakes up. “My love?” Kissing the top of your head. Massaging your stomach and sides. “Wake up I need to get dinner started, I'll get you cozy in the bed with the heading pad.” He peels the blanket back, grabbing the now cold heading pad setting it aside.

Shifting on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Kento carefully fixes the blanket on yo. Wrapping his arm around you, slowly standing up. “What are you craving?”

Pouting whining in frustration, “I dunno! I'm hungry but I don't know what I want. I don't want you to leave me alone.” Cupping the back of your head, swiping his thumb in small circles. His gentle touch soothing your emotional turmoil.

“Take out it is you can look at what you want and take your time there’s no rush. I'll carrying you to and from the door to get the food.” Nudging the bedroom door open with his foot. He knows the bedroom by memory.

Carrying you with one arm, pulling the covers back, laying you down then flicks on the lamp. “We need to make sure we get you something yummy.” Kento kisses your forehead. “Lemme get your heating pad and my phone.”

Kento isn't gone long coming back into the room. He’s beautiful with his blond hair falling across his thin framed glasses. You like them more than his green and silver ones that hide the beautiful dark coffee brown shade of his warm, gentle, tired eyes.

Slipping into underneath the covers, holding his arms out for you to climb slowly onto his lap. Resting your chest on his chest craving the skin to skin.

Placing the heating pad on your stomach, grabbing the near by covers and covering you both. “Comfortiable beautiful?”

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

You have a wonderful view of Satoru in a tight black shirt splitting open firewood with a wooden axe. You’d insisted a cabin in the woods because you pouted about being around other people was a bit extreme. Now that you’re here with no one else but Satoru for miles around it’s peaceful and necessary.

The view of his arms flexing when bringing the axe through the wood catching your attention. Almost distracting you from the monthly fit your body is throwing from not getting knocked up by Satoru.

Loading the logs into the pit. He points his fingers at it, looks up at the window and smiles. Could he really spark the firepit without destroying the ground around it?

You eyes widen. There’s a flash of light and boom fire errupts from the pit. Arching towards the sky, settling down, gradually getting lower as it consumes the wooden logs.

Blowing off the his finger gun proud of himself. Then vanishing out of site as he comes into the cabin. Slipping back outside covering the bench in several blankets and the throw pillows from the sofa. The bringing out a plate with a roasting stick.

Dipping back into the house Satoru bursts into the bedroom, grinning widely. “It’s s’mores time! Cuddles, a crackling fire underneath the stars your wonderful boyfriend feeding you chocolate you might be cramping but that has to help a little right?

“Can’t think anything sweeter, other than getting some kisses from my Sugarbear.” Satoru climbs onto the bed, hovering over you carefully not to let his weight crush you. Softly kissing your nose, cheeks, forehead and lips. You can feel his smile in the gentle curve of his lips.

Wrapping your legs around him, parting your lips for his tongue. You crave Satoru’s slow, sweet romantic kisses more than air. Slipping your fingers through his short undercut into his fluffy hair.

Squeezing your sides lifting you off the bed. Refusing to break away, he’s lost in your soft lips whimpering into the kiss. Carrying you through the door, slowly sliding his hand up and down your back, cupping your ass.

Pulling away you need to breathe, resting your head on his chest. Shivering from the cool fall air, nuzzling your head into Satoru’s neck, kissing him gently.

“Your kisses are sweeter than any treat I could buy.” Satoru sits down with you straddling his lap. Picking up the roasting fork, its tip having been resting on a plate next to some marshmallow, a chocolate bar and some Graham crackers.

“Cheesy!” Leaning back enough to admire Satoru’s handsome face. Kissing his cheek.

He passes the roasting stick to his other hand. Squeezing your between his arms when he sticks a fluffy marshmellow onto it’s tip. “It’s true! The way you kiss me is so sweet and loving, it makes my heart beat faster every time. I can't stop kissing you, it's getting worse. Everytime I see you I want to cover you in kisses, hold you close and never let you go!”

Oreo creampie m.list

[earthtooz]

x : AVOIDANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: falling for blade was not on your agenda, so naturally you decide to distance yourself. however, the last thing you'd predicted was blade being upset with the sudden space.

warnings: 2.3k wc, FLUFF, ooc!blade probably bc i'm still trying to figure it out, kafka meddles with the two of you, gn!stellaron hunter!reader who has a past lol, NOT PROOFREAD, idiots in love bc i love that trope, bad writing

a/n: thank you to the anon who gave me this idea :D much appreciated, i had a lot of fun with this one when my angstier fics were draining me af. i hope you enjoy, apologies if it's a little low quality, but it's my child &lt;3

when you first joined the team of stellaron hunters, you didn’t expect to get much out of it, especially since the team looked so cold, calculating, mischievous, and unforgiving, greeting you with vicious smiles and muddy eyes. preemptively, you assumed the most you would receive is acquaintanceship.

however, time has proven you wrong, because on the contrary, you have found comfort, friendship, and stability in the form of this mismatched group.

you never expected to find love either.

but you did, and it might be the worst decision your heart has ever made.

“y/n, there you are. kafka and i are thinking about going out to lunch. want to join?” silver wolf’s voice interrupts your train of thought, disrupting your peace in your private spot amongst the gardens.

“oh, hi silver wolf,” you murmur, shutting your book after shoving in a bookmark. “who else is going?”

“kafka asked blade and he agreed.”

the genius hacker doesn’t notice the way you tense upon hearing a certain swordman’s name. instead, you play it cool by opening up your book again, scanning the pages in hopes of ignoring the racing of your heart.

“i think i’ll pass on this one. thank you though,” you mutter.

“really?” the silver-haired asks, popping her gum before shrugging. “whatever you say. i’m off!”

“bye!”

hearing her footsteps fade, you slump in your seat, your memories with blade hauntingly eminent in your mind. you don’t recall when you fell for him, or why exactly, all you have in your recollection is a series of moments that you look back fondly upon with a full heart, love slowly seeping in to you and causing your affections to grow to the size that they reside at now.

when you had realised, the love had already grown too big to deflate, and dejection struck moments after; a big bang of butterflies in your stomach that all disintegrated straight after.

how brutal- perhaps this was an indication that blade was rubbing off on you too much, and you need to cleanse yourself of his influence.

love, although fickle, was not something that you avidly rejected. despite having lived like a hunted deer, your experiences have been fleeting, building your delicate heart for a life of meeting, falling, then leaving when you least wanted to, needing to run before an arrow pierced you- and certainly not cupid’s one. 

but with blade, everything is different. there is no arrow to run from, not in the life that elio has foreseen for you. for the first time in your life, you can stop running away and try fall into the arms of love with little remorse.

it's just ironic that you fall into the arms of a man who should not be touched.

“y/n’s not coming with us today,” silver wolf reports after meeting up with the other two stellaron hunters.

“oh?” kafka hums, “usually y/n’s always willing to hangout, why’s that?”

“busy or something, i don’t know, i didn’t care to ask.”

the slight scrunch of displeasure in blade’s expression passes by the keen eyes of both kafka and silver wolf. if either of them had noticed then perhaps it would have been a topic of interest, but for the time being, the pair move on (faster than the third member), your unusual absence dismissed in favour of where to get food.

as the days turn into nights and elio issues more missions and mumbles more futures, blade feels as though he sees you less and less.

it’s not intuition more than it is you purposefully ignoring and evading blade in your everyday, though.

“good morning,” kafka’s voice greets when she walks in to the cafeteria, where you were eating breakfast alone. setting down your phone, you regard her with a mouth full of bread. “gross. at least swallow first.”

“screw off,” you murmur. “how did you sleep?”

“fine fine, i woke up in the wrong position though and my neck is killing me, but what about you? seems like you’ve been up a while.”

“i’ve been up since asscrack of dawn.” 

the purple-haired regards you with amusement. “why’s that?”

“body clock or whatever,” you lie, staring down at your glass of water.

“i see,” kafka hums half-heartedly, as if seeing right through you. “well, i’m going to get some coffee, i’ll be right back.”

“mk.”

you’re left on your own for only a few minutes, waiting patiently in silence for kafka to return. the morning is cool and pleasant, and the smell of rain is still heavy in the air as the morning dew lightens the atmosphere. the weather will surely get hotter as the day matures, but for now, you enjoy the gentle caress of sunlight on your back.

or rather- you were enjoying the gentle caress of the sun, but the methodicalness of it all is ruined when you spot a certain figure with dark, long hair beside kafka.

suddenly the last thing you know is peace and calm, and the abrupt, painful scraping of your chair against the floor symbolises that.

“going somewhere?” kafka asks.

picking up your scraps, you avoid blade’s gaze. “yeah! i- uh, realised that i have some documents to drop off for elio by twelve or whatever.”

“won't you stay to keep us company for breakfast,” the purple-haired tempts, “it feels like it’s been so long since we’ve spent some proper time together.”

“has it?” you laugh nervously and kafka easily picks up the pitchiness of your tone. “i’ll make it up soon, i promise, i’ve just been overflowed with things to do.”

“alright. you be off then. don’t work too hard.”

“i won’t. my head is remaining tight on my shoulders, don’t you worry!” you reassure before scrambling away, feeling like your legs could not be any slower as you retreat away from blade’s scrutinising gaze. when you round the corner, you sigh a breath of relief. 

it’s laughable and simultaneously admirable how dedicated you are about dodging every interaction possible, but for the record, you think you’re doing quite well. not that space was doing many favours for your heart, but persistence is key. 

whoever believed that distance makes the heart grow fonder just clearly didn’t try enough, because yours feels like it’s about to hammer out of your chest with how fast it is racing, and the sensation is equivalent to something like pain rather than fondness.

“i’m worried,” blade mutters, gaze lingering on where you’d just disappeared. “and why does y/n talk like i’m not right here?”

“aww, are you upset?” coos kafka, taking a seat. the swordsman mimics her.

“why wouldn’t i be? it feels like y/n has been ignoring me as of late.”

kafka hums thoughtfully, swirling her coffee cup around.

“do you know anything about that?”

“nup. nothing at all,” she answers, feigning ignorance to the many suspicions that are bubbling around in her mind. the last thing kafka is, is blind, your unusual behaviour has not bypassed her perceptive eye at all, but she believes she has uncovered the reasoning as to why; said reasoning being a certain swordsman.

the revelation is definitely interesting, and she might just be able to give the push you both need.

“y’know what, bladie? if it concerns you that much, i’d say you go check up on y/n later,” kafka suggests.

“why not you?”

“i’ll be busy, but i think some support in dire times is just what y/n needs.”

“okay. fine.”

when blade gathers the courage to check up on you, like kafka recommended, the time is nearing 5pm. the sun is beginning to cool, the animals are retreating into their nests, and the big, bad, intimidating stellaron hunter is roaming around the archives, where you’re situated to work, hoping to locate you.

it takes a few laps around to finally find your placement because you’re fast asleep, only identifiable to blade by the jacket you hung on the back of your chair.

the sight of you hunched over your desk over a multitude of forms and papers causes a wave of concern (however much he can feel) to wash over blade, and suddenly, he does something completely foreign to him: dote over someone.

gently lifting your jacket to cover your shoulders, he stills when you shift a little, your eyebrows furrowing in your sleep. deciding to leave you alone, all blade spares is one lasting look at your vulnerability before leaving. 

he wonders what it is that could be making you so frustrated. 

(if only he knew). 

a few days later, kafka confronts you about the suspicions that’s been creeping to the forefront of her mind.

“did you do something to piss a certain bladie off?” 

kafka’s saccharine voice is laced with mischief as she leans towards you, chin resting on the palm of her hand. she certainly does not miss the way you tense up at the mention of the swordsman’s name and her smirk widens when you shuffle away, subconsciously turning away, as if avoiding the subject.

“i can’t think of why i would have,” you murmur, crossing your arms. “why?”

“oh, nothing, he’s just been complaining and crying a lot recently.”

“he does that all the time.”

“so he does,” your fellow stellaron hunter hums. “except he’s mentioning your name a lot more nowadays.” 

you freeze. “what?”

“hm? did i say something peculiar?”

inhaling a deep breath, you steady yourself. you know what kafka wants out of you and you’re not going to give it to her despite how innocent and pretty she spins the web to look. after all these years together, you hope to have learnt a thing or two about how to avoid her snare.

“what is blade saying about me?” you quiz. 

she blinks at you. “why so curious if you haven’t done anything?” 

“can i not ask about something that involves my name? besides, he’s my friend, i want to know what he’s saying,” you lean against the back of the couch, trying to calm the involuntary shake in your legs. you despise that the slightest mention of blade can cause a bottomless pit to form in your stomach and it’s not because of how intimidating or threatening he is. 

no, it’s because you’ve fallen for him, hook, line, and centre.

and blade would have to die before you ever tell him.

“mostly just grumbles about wondering where you are,” kafka expands, waving her hands about to match her words. “he asked silver wolf and i if you’ve been talking to us and when we said ‘yes’, he looked pissed! when i asked why he was being a sourpuss, he just stormed off.”

“so temperamental, that man,” she sighs. then, she looks back at you with those half-lidded eyes that have always gotten her what she wants, and in this case, they’re answers. “so tell me, y/n, what did you do to our bladie to have him all riled up like this?”

“nothing. absolutely nothing.”

“are you sure?”

“positive.”

“positive?”

you avoid her curious gaze. “positive.”

“maybe i phrased the question wrong. has bladie done something to you instead?”

panic settles within you. “no,” you lie through your teeth. “he hasn’t.”

“so if i asked you why you left breakfast so abruptly that day, you wouldn’t say that it’s because of him?”

“i had work to do, kafka, you know how busy my job gets.”

“i know, i know,” she persists, “then why weren’t you in a hurry before blade arrived that morning?”

you don’t know how to refute that, letting silence speak volumes instead.

“and why did you skip out on lunch with silver wolf and i? was it because we also invited a certain someone?”

“okay! fine, you’ve got me. what do you want to know?” you explode, tossing your phone on the couch in frustration. 

“so it is about blade?” questions your coworker.

“yeah. it is.”

“what about him? did he do something to hurt you? you know he’s accidentally mean sometimes-”

“it’s not that, he’s nothing but a sweetheart.”

“so what’s the problem?”

“that is the problem! he’s just… he’s him.”

“is that bad?”

“for my heart, yes.”

“oh my- so you like him?”

you exhale exasperatedly, “don’t act like you haven’t already figured that out, kafka.”

the cheshire smile she then flashes sends shivers down your spine. for whatever reason, an oppressive feeling grows in your gut, resembling something like a warning.

“you’re right, i knew,” she flaunts. then, her gaze cuts to look behind you. “but i don’t think blade did.”

your heart lurches out of your chest with enough force to pull you off the couch and you stumble around to see that, lo and behold, blade was indeed standing in the hallway. the expression he wears tells you enough; he heard you, he knows.

kafka somehow sneaks her way out of the room, leaving you alone to deal with the face of rejection. it’s daunting being in the same space as him after so long, you almost forgot about the intimidating pressure that blade naturally exudes and projects in every space he enters.

“hi,” you start, looking away. 

he stalks over to you, footsteps soundless before stopping a feet in front of you. instead of saying something, the swordsman merely gazes down at you whilst you keep your eyes glued to the side.

“can you reject me already? the silence is kinda killing me,” you snap after a few seconds, crossing your arms protectively. 

instead of obeying to your request, blade does something completely unexpected; he very gently lifts your chin with his hand, and red eyes bore right into yours. is it odd to feel seen in your demise? because blade is looking- no, surveying you with such immense focus and clarity that your heart stills, frozen in position because it wants him to see the most picturesque part of you. 

(he sees it, but he wants to know more of you. the pretty, the ugly, the likeable, and the unwanted.)

“would you like to go on a date?” he asks.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[nymphomatique]

Thinking about reader getting rejected by some guy and she gets drunk and loser nerd miguel is there to comfort her and she is like "miggy you are so much better than him!!" (She won't admit she said that when she is sober) and she is crying and saying embarrassing stuff she likes about miguel while he is trying his best to comfort her. Things like "i actually think the glasses are so cute" "i love how smart you are, always so helpful" and it escalates into things like "i love sitting on your face and seeing the glasses fog up" "your dick is big for a nerd, i love sucking you off" etc. And Miguel is like 😳

she is finally here!! had a blast writing this one 🤭

cw: drunk reader, reader gets rejected and gets shitfaced, miguel being a sweetie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, erm like pantie sniffing? 😭 idk, cunnilingus, creampie, squirting (because why wouldn’t there be it’s me whose writing this), slightly drunk sex (can be considered dubcon), switch miguel??, undercover feelings if u squint🕺🏽i think that’s it lmk if i miss smt. and as usual, not proofread ❤️ enjoy my luvvies

wc: 3.0k

your head was pounding. but that’s to be expected with the excessive amount of alcohol in your system paired with the booming bass of whatever song was playing at whatever club you were at.

you felt so disoriented. at the beginning of the night, you wouldn’t have shown up if you had known what was going to happen. you came out tonight with your sorority friends because you had your sights set on hobie brown. tall, lanky, and fucking gorgeous. all night, you had done your best to push your tits up in your skimpy dress and sway your hips to the song that had been playing at the club to no avail. he left you alone, feeling high and dry to hook up with one of your friends instead. seeing him make out with her in the shared booth you had all pitched in for bad made you feel slightly insecure. was there something wrong with you? you had chosen not to dignify that question with a verbal answer but rather with shots of tequila, and that had been 4 shots ago.

your head was spinning, and you felt so so warm in the club. in this moment you found yourself thinking of one thing only, miguel. you hated yourself for it. and when a mysterious double shot of vodka had appeared in front of you, the bartender saying some guy had payed for them with you, you downed them no question. the burn in your throat quieting the burn in your mind. but only temporarily. you can’t stop thinking about him. his curly brown hair, his plump lips, his cut nose, his eyes, and those glasses he wears. you find yourself missing him in this moment, yearning for him to make you feel better. you’re ready to go home.

you push yourself away from the bar counter, and the push sends you reeling backwards and onto your ass with an “oof!”. with the strobe lights, loud music, and moving bodies, you were nothing in the sea of movement and stimulation on the floor. you figure the floor is your best option at regaining some sense of orientation, so you pull your phone out and order yourself an uber home to the best of your ability. through your hazy vision, you open your messages, scrolling through your contacts until you find the one you’re looking for, under the name ‘four eyes’. without thinking, your thumbs start moving, and you’re pressing send periodically.

you figure you’re done, and you brace yourself to get up and navigate through the sea of bodies ahead of the exit.

in his dorm at his desk, miguel sat quietly studying for his upcoming molecular biology quiz, when his phone starts to buzz.

my love <3

1:22 am. — r y awsje

1:22 am. — awake

1:22 am. — my roon in 15

1:23 am. — pls

miguel looks at his phone, trying to decipher whatever gibberish you had been typing. he figures you mean to meet him at your dorm, a little escape between you two at this time of night wasn’t unusual, but never initiated like this. miguel bookmarks his page in his textbook before closing it, grabbing some water and ibuprofen with him before he makes his way to your dorm.

when he arrives, he sees you on the floor leaning against your door, barely awake. you perk up however at miguel’s footsteps, your eyes fluttering open and a small smile plastering across your face. “miguellll,” you exclaim, throwing your hands towards him. “dunno my room code. piggy back me!” you giggle, rather loudly at that. miguel smiles a bit, walking over briskly to shush you. “okay baby, but you gotta be quiet, yeah?” he smiles, taking you in so.. free. happy.

a smile graces your lips, eyes hazy and blinking, hair messy and unkept like the clothes you wore, but to miguel you were as beautiful as ever, even at your most unguarded. he watches you with a smile, knowing this will be the last time for a good while he’s going to see you like this. he kneels, placing an arm at your back, scooping under you arms, the other arm at the back of your knees. with a swiftness, he steps back up with you in his harms with no sweat, and as drunk as you are damn do you find it hot. your face burries itself in miguel’s pectoral, covered by his soft grey sweater.

you breathe him in quietly as your head the buttons to your room door beep and your handle twist somewhere distant. all you can think about is miguel. as drunk as you were, your eyes would always find the time to focus on him. the way butterflies erupted in your stomach as you saw him walk towards you in his plaid pyjama pants and his loose sweater, glasses atop his head. he looked tired as ever, probably busy studying quantum mechanics or something. yet, here you were in his string arms. miguel, miguel, miguel. you look up at him as he walks you to your bed, and you catch a look at his resting face. he naw tense and sharp, lips pursed, brows bushy and furrowed, his brown eyes sharp and attentive. you’ve never seen him like this. you like seeing him like this. your hand creeps up to his jaw, tracing the muscle and vein, in brief brushes as miguel finally sets you down on your bed.

you’re sat with your back parallel to the wall the length of your bed sits along, head leaning back and reeling in the coolness of the painted wall.

“you enjoy yourself back there?” he teases, smiling softly at you, beginning to undo your necklace clasp. you smile sheepishly, feeling warm and embarrassed you let yourself get caught staring and touching him like that. “s’okay. you know i love it when you touch me.”

and there it is. the sharpness and the bite in miguel that you’re not used to seeing, the miguel who makes your stomach burn with a look, makes your chest pound by saying things like ‘i love it when you touch me.’ he’s long gone from your neck, his nimble fingers at your wrists, unclamping your bracelets and slipping off your rings, placing an occasional kiss on your knuckles. and you sit in silence as he takes care of you, stripping you ever so slightly more bare than you were before, not just physically.

you watch and see the attentiveness in his moved, how he’s careful with you. he moves to take your shoes off next, kneeling as he does so. the begins to unbuckle one strap of your heel, focus built in his face as he does so. he pulls your shoe off, massages your foot, up to your ankle, up to your calf, stopping right as the burning you feel on your skin begins to pick up. you break the comfortable silence with the whisper of his name from your lips.

“yes, my love?” he hums, rubbing soft circles in your calves.

“you’re so good to me. make me really happy,” you murmur.

“yeah? you make me happy too.”

“not just that,” you begin, perking up a bit from your slumped posture. “you’re really smart. makes you really attractive.”

he keeps rubbing soft circles into your supple skin, but this time he’s looking up at you, a slight redness to his cheeks. adorable.

“you’re big n’strong too. carryin’ me like that to my bed,” you giggle. you lean forward, your face a few inches closer to miguel’s. “made my pussy fuckin’ wet,” you whisper at him, leaning back against the wall to watch him, a stunned look on his face. “my other shoes not gonna take itself off.”

miguel doesn’t let your comment phase him, at least beyond the physical sense, as he moves to take your other shoe off. and he repeats. unbuckle, massage, foot, ankle, calf, thigh- thigh? you watch miguel quietly, his hands rubbing and kneading into the meat of your lower thigh. higher and higher his hands creep, until they’re sitting right below the rolled-up hem of your dress. miguel looks up at you, waiting for a sign, an order. wordlessly, you let your legs spread apart.

miguel takes heed of your cue, and his hands gently trail up your thigh and split at its junction, each of his large hands latched onto your hips. he abruptly pulls you forward, and you let out a small squeak. miguel pays you no mind, his eyes on the prize present between your legs. he burries his strong nose into your clothed vagina, rubbing at your clit a bit and he inhales, moaning at the smell. your stomach tightens a bit and you feel both embarrassed and aroused at his display.

“smell as good as you taste.”

you bite your lip and snake your hand up to the thick head of hair in between your legs, pushing him closer to your panty covered wetness. “quit teasin’ me, you breathe out, miguel’s strong nose prodding at your clit. at your expression he moves to lick a stripe up your pussy, licking up the taste of you from your soaked underwear. you let out a soft exhale, feeling sated at the kitten licks miguel gives you. he trails up your clothed wetness once more, and moves the gusset of your panty to the side, exposing you to him.

ever anxious, you hold in a breath, ready and waiting for miguel. after a beat he finally places his mouth on you, delving between your folds and training up between them to reach your clit, which he sucks into his mouth hard. you can’t help but let out a moan, praising him for his work. “f-feels so good, migs. keep goin’ for me.”

and he does, licking and sucking and thrusting up into you until you’re writhing writhin his grasp and you find yourself on the cusp of your orgasm. that is until he pulls away. he’s sat on his haunches, mouth wet and face flushed, lust heavy in his eyes at he looks at you.

“please, mistress, can i make you feel good?”

you lean forward and grab him by his sweater collar, pulling him up to your bed, his face inches from yours. your lips ghost his as you whisper, “you always make me feel good.” you pull him in for a kiss, your lips hot and heavy against miguel’s, swirling your tongues between each others. when you feel void of breath, you break up the kiss, taking a moment to look at miguel until you push him back against the bed, throwing your leg over his hips so that you were straddling him.

“wanna know something else?” you begin, leaning your head down to kiss his cheek. “you always make me cum. with that big dick of yours.” you grind your hips against his, feeling him throb against your pussy even through his sweats. “you always make me cum, even make me wet the bed and squirt. no other man has done that to me.” you continue kissing and suckung his neck, being sure to leave the unmistakable mark of hickeys down his jugular.

miguel moans, his arms tensing and hips jerking up at the sensation and you giggle a bit. “want you to fuck me and make me cum with that dick of yours. hard.” you leave him with your words as you get off him, stumbling a bit, the remaining alcohol in your blood making itself present. you watch miguel, still laying against your bed and you strip for him. you pull your tight dress up and over your head, shimmying it off you until you’re only in your panties. you wore no bra.

at the sight, miguel gulps and raises off the bed, ridding himself of his pants and sweater in record time, until he’s naked in front of you. you peel your panties off of you, throwing them at miguel’s face as you walk over to him and push him back into the position the two of you were in once more. you’re sat on top of miguel’s hard length, laughing at his eyes peeking through the gusset of your lacy underwear. “bet you like havin’ my panties on your face,” you tease, running your hands up his chest, ghosting his hard nipples. he lets out a sharp inhale and you roll your eyes, grabbing your underwear off of miguel’s face. “open,” you command, and his jaw unhinges without a spare moment. you ball up the lace fabric in your hands and shove it in his mouth, biting your lip at seeing miguel like this.

“you’re so fucking sexy, especially now that you can’t talk.”

you decide you’re done teasing, ready to finally satisfy yourself, and you lift you hips up. “put it in yourself,” you tell miguel, and a muffled sigh comes out of his mouth as he grabs his cock, aligning it with your wetness. miguel’s eyes close and his hips jerk up, his fat tipping pushing through you. miguel grabs your hips, squeezing and his keeps going, pushing the entirety of his length within you. you moan, the stretch burning so good along with the slight rush of liquor running through you. you feel hot and lightheaded, and good. so good. when miguel is fully sheathed in you, you don’t give him a moments rest before you plant your hands on his soft pecks and push your hips up to slam them back down.

miguel let’s out muffled curses, and your breaths become to come out faster and shorter as your hips keeping going up and down. “fuckin’ love this cock. s’all mine. don’t ever wanna share you,” you moan out. miguel’s feet plant into your bed and he matches your thrusts, his hands pulling your hips down as he thrusts up into you, causing you to squeal. he’s hitting you deep and hard and you don’t know how long you can take it like this. in the midst of it all, one of miguel’s hands leave your hips to make its way to your clit, rubbing your swollen bud. your body tenses and shakes, and your feel your orgasm build itself up quickly.

“g-gonna cum,” you moan out, looking at miguel. you already find him looking at you, his face in utter ecstasy. your underwear in his mouth is darkened from his saliva, his forehead covered in a light sheen of sweat, his hair strewn across your sheets. he makes your stomach clench, and you feel yourself shake from your orgasm. miguel doesn’t let up, he’s still fucking you and prodding your clit. he’s determined to make you squirt, just like you told him to.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, i’m- ah!” you babble, your brain beginning to fog. your first orgasm doesn’t even let up when you feel a second one hit you, and a groan leave miguel at you tightening and leaking around him. “h-hurts to good, please don’t stop baby please please please.”

he has you begging, the pleasure feeling too much. he’s still not done yet, his determination to make you squirt keeping him going. he flips you both, so that you’re laying against the bed, with him kneeling above you. you’re in such a deep haze that you don’t even realize until you hear miguel speak. he took your panties out of his mouth.

“gonna soak me? i need it, baby. you can do it, huh?” you hear him in your ear. your legs are over his shoulders and he’s pistoning into you and you just can’t. your head falls to the side when you feel a pressure build in your abdomen and you think you did it. liquid spurts from you, soaking you sheets and miguel’s stomach, and he lets out the deepest groan at the feeling. he’s still fucking you, hard thrusts and skin slapping. you feel light and you don’t know how much more you can take until miguel comes, and your hand weakly pushes at his stomach.

“move your hand, baby.”

you moan, the overstimulation becoming too much, and miguel assures you he’s close, almost there baby, hold on for me, yeah? and you do, you hold on even though you feel like his dick is in your throat and you’re gonna pass out if he keeps fucking you like this. you swear your prayers are answered when his thrusts slow, his moaning becoming erratic and loud.

“fuck baby, m’cumming. so good for me, mommy, so fuckin’ good.”

his warm seed fills you up and his thrust still, your back arches at the feeling and a small stream of liquid gushes from you again with a heavy moan. “fuck baby, you still squirting f’me” miguel groans. he pulls out of you slowly, the feeling causing you to shake a bit. when he’s finally removed from yoh, you close your eyes, feeling a kiss to your forehead and sleep pulling a cover over you.

the next morning, you wake up with a blistering headache and a soreness to your body that just pisses you off, more than the sun peeking through your blinds. you groan as you get up, your sheets falling off of you and you see you’re in a grey sweater. huh.

you turn to your bedside table and see that it’s 10:37 am, with a glass of water and two white pills next to it. you reach for them when you hear your room door open, and none other than miguel o’hara enters your room. he greets you with a smile and you scowl at him, noticing the bag of fast food in his hands.

“brought breakfast for you. thought you would, um, be hungry.” he says. you look at him, the scowl leaving your face, and you feel the itchings of a smile poking at your face. if miguel notices, he doesn’t say anything, but he drops the fast food bag on your bed and kisses your forehead, before he disappears off into your bathroom somewhere.

you fucking can’t stand him.

[tlouadditc]

to the brim ... <3

dom!abby x fem!sub!reader

!! not my pic !!

warnings: fluff + smut [MDNI and MEN DNI.] modern!au / no apocalypse, established relationship, softdom!abby [?], i couldnt think of good gifts dont mind it, abby is a gamer confirmed bc i said so, breeding [duh], abby has a breeding strap, filthy talk omg :(( ah!! i think thats it

a/n: ever since i read @seattlesellie's ellie breeding fic... i've been a changed woman. so here's my take on abby! p.s.: no desc. of hair, skin color, size, etc. :) this is also kinda long but enjoy my loves!

you and abby had been together for around 3 long, happy years. the happiest years, you could say. it was weird; you never thought you'd end up like this. never.. imagined being happy with someone, especially someone as outgoing and brave as abby. you were complete opposites, you being more introverted and kept to yourself while abby was loud and proud. even the way she asked you out [buying you your favorite flowers, making you dinner, AND two cute little matching rings] was memorable and creative. you've always loved everything about her.

today, in present time, is your anniversary. every year, you attempt to top the last year. always remembering little details and bookmarking whatever she sent you just for this moment. abby's currently at her office job; "busiest day of the year, but i'll be back in time for dinner," she explained earlier that morning. "promise!" you take this as an opportunity to buy her gifts and plan out a romantic dinner for the night.

lately, she's been wanting these lego flower sets [specifically the orchid ones since they reminded her of you.. :,)], so you quickly bought one. that isn't enough, you think, so you also get custom lego keychains of both of you, making them both wear wedding dresses and smile as bright as the sun. while you're at it, you get her favorite cake, chocolate with strawberry sprinkles, and have "happy 3rd anniversary, my love" on the top. you smile as you reach your apartment, already visualizing her surprised face. i'll get her this year, you think as you step inside.

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hours later, you hear a slight knock knock knock on the door. perfect timing, you think, quickly fixing your hair and looking over your outfit. you're wearing a black maxi dress, tight-fitting over your curves, but simple in style. it's kinda casual, but abby insisted on staying home. "it's for my surprise," she argued, a smirk forming on her face as she said it. she always had some quick trick up her sleeve, but you're even quicker.

well. most of the time.

you peek in the peephole, and there she is. she's wearing her glasses today [her bluelight ones you bought for her your last anniversary since she always complained about her headaches], dressed in all black and her hair flowing down her shoulders. her hands hold onto the handle of a medium sized, deep red giftbag. she probably feels your eyes on her, because flashes a pearly smile up to the small opening. no matter how much she smiles, you never get tired of it. you quickly unlock the door and open it widely.

her pale skin turns a slight dusty shade of pink as she looks you up in down, lovingly taking in your beauty. her mouth opens to say something, but all that comes out is a soft, "hi, baby," before she pulls you into a tight hug, exhaling as she wraps her toned arms around you. she feels like.. like something familiar, but nothing you've ever felt before. something comforting. like home.

she pulls back, placing her hands on either cheek. her eyes move back and forth from one eye to another, almost as if she's trying to read your mind, hear your thoughts. "missed you so much, bun." she leans in, giving you two small pecks on the lips before pulling you into one last hug.

"missed you more abs," you murmur, "more than you'd ever know."

she pulls back, smiling as you mirror her expression. after a couple of seconds, she finally looks around the apartment. "babe?" she questions, clearly in shock. there's big, red heart balloons and her favorite candles are lit all around. she's completely enveloped in the candlelit room, gasping when she looks down and sees rose petals scattered beautifully on the wooden floor. you see her eyes lock onto two red, nicely wrapped gifts on the coffee table. "oh. my god," she looks from the living room back to you, astonished. "no, you didn't."

"oh, yes i did," you giggle as you close and lock the front door. she walks carefully over the fresh rose petals into the living room. she sits on the couch, looking up at you with doe eyes. "babe, if this is what i think it is..." she pauses and exhales. all you can do is smile; your excitement cannot be contained. "open them up!" you cheer, sitting down in the armchair beside the sofa.

she picks up the smaller box, cautiously shaking it. she was always great at guessing your gifts. but this time, she furrows her brows in confusion. she shakes it once more, a little harder this time, deep thought written across her sharp face. the scrunch in her nose makes you laugh a bit. "is it.." she starts, but cuts herself off. "i don't know.. actually."

you shrug, "then open it, babe." she sighs before accepting defeat and opening the small package. as soon as she gets the paper off, she gasps and looks up at you. "oh my god!" she exclaims. "wait, are these-" she looks back at the package, back at you, and holds it up to your face. "oh my god! it's us!"

you smile and laugh while she gushes over the fact they look exactly like you two. "how did they get my hair perfect? and the little dresses! i mean, look at it, oh my god." she admires them silently for a few seconds before uttering, "this is gonna be us, bun. i promise."

the uncontrollable urge to smile takes over your face, making your cheeks hurt a bit. she's muttering a thousand "thank you"s before opening the next one; the one you're the most excited about. she's been talking about this since last year, but she never had the time to get it or start it, matter of fact.

she tears the paper once again, immediately stopping in her tracks. her eyes move up to you once again and her jaw goes slack. "oh my FUCKING god," she yells, ripping the rest of the paper off. it's almost like she's a child again; the way her face lights up makes your entire day worth while. she proceeds to nerd out over the set once again, "this is so... oh my goodness i can't even explain how excited i am. thank you so much babe... wow.. i got so lucky..."

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you made her favorite dinner that night, having it freshly prepared for her and still warm on the stove. she just rambles about how she's the luckiest woman in the world to have a beautiful girlfriend and how much she loves you. she continues this throughout the entire meal, making sure she can treat you with the same treatment whenever she can; wiping your cheek when anything got on your face, getting you whatever you needed with no questions asked.. anything. basically, your everyday treatment with her.

after dinner, you both sit on the sofa, talking about your days. mid-conversation, abby randomly gasps.

"and then he was li- uhm... abby?"

"oh my god. i almost forgot!"

"what? what's the matter?"

"your gift!!"

she practically jumps out of her seat, striding over to the counter where she left the giftbag. "can't believe i forgot my gift for my special girl." she scoffs at herself and sits while handing you the bag. it's not heavy, but it's also not lightweight. you scan through your memories of things you've mentioned to her: cats, a wedding ring, books... but it didn't seem like any of that stuff was in here.

you give up, opening the top and looking inside. your jaw drops. you see a long, light pink box. there's fancy gold lettering across the front that you can't read. you take the box out, and unwrap the ribbon bow from around it. as you lift the top up, you see plush flowers and.. a small hello kitty stuffed animal in between the flowers. you squeal as you put the bag down and hug abby tightly, muttering thankyouthankyouthankyou!! all she does is smile and whisper "of course, princess." you think that's it before you realize there's a small pink card and a even smaller box inside the bag.

confused, you pick up the card and analyze the cover. it's a baby princess themed card; such an abby thing to do. you glance over at her to crack a smile, but you realize she has on that devilish smirk plastered across her face. uh oh, you think. "why're you smiling like that, babe?"

"like what?" her smirk grows wider.

that's even more 'abby' like than the card.

you roll your eyes jokingly before deciding to open the card up. inside, there's a paragraph written:

"dear y/n,

happy 3rd anniversary, my love! i'm so glad you're in my life, even after all this time. you'll always be special to me and i see that we will grow old together. i know you've been wanting that bouquet for a while, but i noticed you've been obsessed with something more.."

you glance up at abby once again. she's watching your reaction with that same smirk. what is she up to? you continue to read:

"i hope you noticed the cover of the card; of course, you're my princess, and you always will be. but i always see you looking at baby clothes when we're out, gushing over baby videos at home, etc etc. and even though we technically can't make one.. i can still give you the experience. ;) love your [nonofficial] wife, abby"

you feel your face heat up as you close the card. abby's large, warm hand suddenly starts stroking your leg through the dress, jolting you back to reality. she chuckles, whispering, "mm, you want that, right? you want me to knock you up?" she's getting closer, her hot breath hitting your neck, making you shudder. "want me to fill you to the brim, baby? hm?"

she's kissing your neck, small pecks turning into full-on hickeys. she loves the way you whimper and squirm, the way you turn your head to give her more access. "i'll take that as a yes," she breathes, a small laugh leaving her mouth. her hand travels from your leg, up to your neck and chin, making you turn and kiss her.

"so pretty like this," she coos in between kisses. she's lost in your big eyes, your noises; lost in you. she toys with the thin straps of your dress, subtly signaling to take it off. you, of course, rush to peel it off. after you do so, you're almost completely naked while she's completely clothed. the drastic difference makes you feel small under her predatory gaze. she taps her thigh twice and demands, "come here, princess."

you straddle her lap, your clothed cunt slightly gaining friction against her pants, making you whimper. "such pretty noises," she murmurs, mostly to herself. her hands rest nicely on your sides, right above your hips. "so, tell me," she starts. "how you wanna do this, mama?"

the new nickname makes you feel a slight heartbeat in between your legs. "oh, you liked that, huh?" she comments, smirking as she looks up at your pretty little face. "well, if you want me to take control, i'll do it. i'll do whatever you want, mama."

"use me," you blurt out, desperately needing her right at that moment. you move your hips back and forth, grinding against her crotch to relieve the ache in between your thighs. abby lets out a breathy laugh, "oh, you want it that bad? god, you're so cute."

before you can respond, she's wrapping her arm around your waist and standing up. you wrap your legs around her waist and your arms around her neck out of instinct. she's walking you to the bedroom, just like her little princess.

when she gets into the room, she lays you on your back, legs behind held back by her large hands pinning them under your armpits. your breath is shaky, heartbeat practically bulging out of your chest. she leaves a trail of sloppy, wet kisses from your neck alllll the way down to your bellybutton. "f-fuck, abby," you shudder, her face getting closer and closer to your heat. "what's wrong?" she asks, "what you need, baby?"

"need you inside," you beg, not caring how pathetic you sound now. "oh, i know, baby," she coos, "but i wanna make this special for you, okay? no rushing. just us."

you appreciate her genuine care with your intimate experiences with her, but at this point, the ache was growing more and more painful as time went on. you whine, moving one of the hands pinning your leg to your cunt. "please, abs. need it."

"fuck, babe," her voice is low and husky, almost a growl. "okay, okay, i got you, mkay? i'll treat you right, promise."

her pointer finger ghosts over your swollen clit, forcing a small moan out. small little circles stimulate your bud, drenching your already soaked panties. she groans, "always so wet f'me, my god." as if she can't take it anymore, she practically rips off the small cloth off your aching pussy. the cold air meeting the warmth of your core makes you gasp, squeezing your thighs together in response.

abby's warmth comes back and divorces your legs apart, pinning them back to where they were originally. "gonna take such good care of you, mama," she mutters, kissing your inner thighs. after what feels like an eternity of teasing, she finally lays small, short kitten licks on your cunt. the small feeling of her warm muscle against your clit relieves the burning ache in your core, but only for a second. she lays a flat tongue, collecting your slick as she moves up. your small "oh"s egg her on, fueling her ego as she spreads your lips apart and latches onto your bud. your moans grow louder and louder, legs slightly trembling from how good it felt. little did you know, she's getting off on your pretty little reactions; she's moaning against your bud, vibrations making your legs shake even more.

"ffffuck-," you cry out, gripping the sheets from pleasure. the vibrations send you over the edge, the familiar tingly feeling in your abdomen unraveling. "m'cumming- oh my god," you wail, attempting to close your legs to get away from abby's tongue. her hands grip your thighs, forcing them apart once again. she continues to suck on your clit, overstimulating you. "t-too much - fuck!"

your juices and her saliva mix, coating the bottom of her chin. she finally unlatches from your sensitive, swollen bud and wipes her chin. "sorry, bun," she says, heavily breathing, "you just taste so goddamn sweet, i had to!"

as abby starts to walk away [you assume it's to help you clean up so you guys can sleep], you slowly drift away into a deep sleep..

"nuh uh, 'm not done with you, mama."

your eyes force open, eyes immediately landing on abby's bare chest. she was almost never topless around you - except when you two showered together - but it wasn't a norm in the house. you unintentionally whisper, "you're so beautiful," causing a wide smile to go across abby's kind face. "thank you, baby," she replied, "c'mere." she patted the edge of the bed. her usual black strap was buckled on, intimidating you from the end of the bed.

you crawl to the edge, sitting on your feet when you reach abby. she giggles, "get on your back, babe. you know the drill." you follow her orders, slightly chuckling at your mistake. as she lines herself up with your slit, she caresses your face, just telling you how much she loves you; "love you so much, bun. i'm so lucky to have you, y'know that, right?" she peppers small pecks along your face in between, smiling at your perfect face.

"'m gonna go all in, okay? jus' let me know when i can move," she warns. you nod, slightly nervous. the strap seemed bigger than usual; a bit wider too. it made you think she'd rip you apart with this thing! but as she bottomed out, the sharp painful sensation was short lived and replaced with a more pleasant sensation, the feeling of being full. and not just full, but full of her.

you start to slightly grind on her cock, trying to get any pleasure. the desperate motion making abby smirk and slam into you again, this time earning a loud, pathetic yelp from you. she continues to slam into you, holding your hips for leverage. "yea, keep makin' those pretty sounds for me," she groans, almost in an animalistic way. all you can do is tell her how good you feel, hands gripping onto her toned biceps.

she brings a hand down, right over your abdomen, pressing slightly. "you feel me right there, yea?" there's a slight bulge where her strap is; the sight makes you drool slightly. you nod feverishly, focusing on her voice and her dick pounding into you. her hips snap back and forth, squishing sounds filling the dimly lit room.

she, on the other hand, is hyper-focused on watching the black silicone disappear inside your gushing cunt, a vague white ring forming around the base of her cock. the sight alone has her pussydrunk and practically forming a pool in between her thighs. "such a messy fucking cunt," she murmurs. "wish i could fucking - shit - fill that little pussy up."

your moans become louder, your grip tightening on the meat of her muscles. your head goes back, putting the hickeys she gave you on full display. "oh, you fucking like that, huh?" she places both hands on either side of your head, still fucking you at a relentless pace. every thrust she does, her tits bounce slightly in front of you. her hair frames her face perfectly, the sweat beads racing down her skin as she pounds into you.

"holy fuck," you whimper. her cock, buried deep inside your greedy little cunt, hits that spongy spot inside of you, making you go insane. she smirks, she knows what she's doing. "what? speak up, princess," she speaks, a mocking tone laced in her words.

"s-so good," a choked moan cuts you short.

"you like the way 'm fucking you? like the way that dick got you going crazy, huh?"

a string of yesyesyes's is all you can get out, too lost in your own pleasure.

"wan' me to fuck my baby into you?" she's out of breath, start to whimper, but she doesn't slow down or stop. she just keeps. on. pounding. she's chasing her orgasm, clit bumping against the base of the strap. you're just a wailing, helpless mess under her, begging for her to cum into you. "i need it, p-please, abs!"

she moans loudly as her thrusts get sloppier, slowing down slightly. you feel a thick liquid unleash into your hole, filling you up. the new feeling causing you to gasp, looking down at where you two met. abby fully pulls out after a few seconds, when a gush of white liquid slowly drips out of your stuffed cunt. she whispers, "fuck, that's a pretty sight to see." using one hand, she spreads you open, your fucked-out hole on display, just for her.

you're still trying to steady your breathing, getting more tired by the second. abby sits on the bed next to you, pulling you into her lap. she caresses your face once again, "did so good f'me, baby. happy anniversary." she kisses your forehead, cuddling you close to her body. before you fully fall asleep, she picks you up, bridal style.

"wh- what are you doing?" you question, half asleep.

"gotta clean you up, babe." she giggles at your sleepy voice.

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after a long, warm bubble bath together and a small cleaning session, you and abby finally lay back on the couch to watch a movie and cuddle.

"y'know what, babe?" she asks, shoveling chocolate cake into her mouth.

"what?"

"i wish i could actually get you pregnant."

you slightly giggle at that, "me too."

"i also want to marry you. really badly." she's looking at your face now, reading into your soul.

"we should get married," you speak, thoughtfully. what's the point of her bringing this u-

she gets up unexpectedly, walking over to your giftbag. confused, you ask, "what's up?" she pulls out that small box you saw earlier. "oh, nothing.." she walks in front of you, then dips down onto one knee.

you gasp. is this really happening? right here right now?? someone pinch me.

"y/n, you've made me the happiest woman on earth for the past 3 years we've been together. not to mention the first 4 of us being friends. now, i'm not gonna give a long, sappy speech during this amazing moment," she slightly chuckles, "but i want to ask you.. will you be my wife?" she opens the box, a shiny ring glistening in the light.

you can't see it that well since tears well up in your eyes. you could've never asked for anyone better than abby. she's made you a better person overall. she's been there for you, even in your darkest times. you nod, wiping your tears.

she's slightly chuckling, which you don't realize until your eyes clear. it's.. a minecraft ring. specifically a minecraft rose on a thick band of gold. you laugh and let her slide it on your ring finger.

"i'm sorry," she's still giggling as she gets up from the floor, "i saw this while i was out and i was like 'this is perfect.'" you're also giggling, "it is perfect. thank you, baby."

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

a/n: abby's such a jokester! anyway hope u guys enjoyed this took forever!

taglist: @unicycl @xnoviee @aouiaa @akenosimp167 @njplatesruler [if you're striked out, i can't tag u!! :(]

[josephquinnswhore]

Devil’s Antics

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: joel explores unspoken territory.

Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warnings: established relationship, age gap, daddy kink, use of pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, honey), (reader mid 20’s Joel is in his 50’s.) somnophilia, dubcon, p in v, creampie, thigh riding, reader is asleep for most of it. Joel Miller wearing reading glasses 🥵

Note: game/og Joel is the love of my life if you don’t like him, go kick rocks. 🪨

It had been a day, Joel could concede the fact as soon as you had walked in the door. Usual infectious smile was nowhere to be seen, he felt unnerved by the way your lips were pulled into a tight line, noting how your bottom lip twitched in its struggle not to slip into a pout.

You were trying to stay strong, level-headed. Joel knew you were tough, you could handle things well, and when you couldn’t you’d always communicate the problem and together; create a solution to free you of your metaphorical chain and shackle.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Is what he’d gotten from you, avoidant eyes and a wave of your hand, monotonous voice set him on edge. The stress radiated from your body like heat waves.

His hand slipped onto your shoulders, only adding to the extra pressure that they struggled underneath. “Let me at least run you a bath sweetheart, it’ll help you relax.”

Another disinterested reply, a shortened mumble of, “I’m fine. Just want to sleep it off.”

He felt stumped; you could be so stubborn. He was here offering solutions, ways in which he knew he could help and be of use and you outright refused. There was no negotiation, straight dismissal. He found it hard to admit that it hurt, god it hurt him. He felt rejected.

A voice of reason in his mind, told himself that he’d never seen her like this, that something so profoundly stressful must have happened for her to be like this.

As you’d said to him, once tomorrow would come and you were rested, they’d talk.

He spends a while in the living room; reading a few chapters of his book before he marks the page by folding the top corner over. A ghost of a smile grew on his lips as he heard your scornful voice in his head.

“You’re going to ruin the books Joel, use a bookmark for goodness sake!” He folded the paper anyway, maybe if you’d noticed it would give you another reason to talk to him.

His pointer and thumb reach up to take his glasses off, pinching them in the worn spot where the temple of his glasses meets the small silver hinge. He sets the book down, then places the glasses on top of them, he’s careful to make sure they’re leaning on the temples, not the lenses.

He feels a heavy feeling forming in his chest, like he’s worried you won’t want him there. Would you; want him there? The thought makes his hand hover above the door handle before he turns it, cursing the sound of the squeaky door hinges that could use some lubricating.

He was sure Tommy mentioned finding an old can of WD-40 on his last patrol.

You’re fast asleep, miraculously through the squeaky door and Joel’s heavy footsteps on the wooden floor throughout the house.

His heart swells when he looks at you; your lips are parted and there’s a frown strewn on your face, skin wrinkling around your eyes. God, you’d probably have crows feet before you turn 30.

“Oh baby, look at you.” He mutters to himself, shaking his head. You went to bed wearing one of his shirts and no pants.

He doesn’t bother to undress, not thinking he’ll get much sleep anyway. He lies there, turning his head to the right so he can watch you sleep, it disturbs him; how even in sleep whatever has you worried plagues you in your sleep.

Watching your chest rise and fall, his own breathing becomes synchronised with your own, heart beating at the same pace as he starts to grumble, his tired eyed begging to be closed for some rest. It takes mere minutes before he finds himself unable to keep his eyelids open.

He stirs, hearing soft whimpers coming from your lips, when he opens his eyes he sees that your lips are still parted, a small puddle of drool has accumulated on your yellow pillowcase.

He can’t help but chuckle at the sight. Until you whimper again, and he takes you in, he realises he’s in a predicament.

Your two thighs are wrapped around his own, locking him in place as your hips rut against his leg, the cause of those sweet sounds coming from your lips. He freezes for a moment; wondering what he should do.

He considers waking you up, shoving you off or even trying to pull his leg away to free himself of your devious grip on him. But he doesn’t. He feels a wave of sympathy.

Here was his poor baby, face strewn in a stressed-out frown and out of desperation, rutting and grinding her panty clothed cunt onto his rough, jean-clad thighs, like her life depended on it.

How could he deny you? He couldn’t.

He felt a tingle shoot down his spine, his cock hardened, stiff and uncomfortable in his jeans, as he watched you using his body in your sleep to get yourself off.

His poor angel is reduced to this, so stressed and exhausted from whatever you’re juggling has you so needy, so desperate and too anxious to ask him to actually fuck you to feel that release.

It was a no brainer to him-to help you. You were his angel, his baby. He wouldn’t let you suffer, you were too restless and you deserved to sleep without interruption. The peace of sleeping without stress on the back burner of your subconscious.

Desire washes over him, his large hands grip your hips, guiding you slowly to grind into his large thigh, still facing each other. His eyes flicker over your body, realising already, how you look less pent up than earlier. Calloused fingertips are soft on your skin as he grips your torso softly, pulling you closer into his chest.

His lips start kissing your neck, softly and gently, careful not to wake you. Small groans get stuck in the back of his throat as you continue to whine desperately for more friction.

He closes his eyes, voice husky with desire as he speaks. “It’ll be okay now honey, I’ll give you everything you need.”

Arousal fuels his actions, lips attacking your soft neck down to your collarbone, his hand sneaks under the material of his shirt on your delicate skin. He groans as he feels your nipples are hard against his thick fingers.

Your hips against Joel’s had slowed down, the rhythm becoming less synced, more sloppy, his heart pounded as he realised how close you were.

“You’re almost there princess, just let daddy take care of you. You know he looks after you.” He wasn’t trying to be quiet anymore, hell if he woke you up, he wouldn’t mind at all.

Moments later a string of quiet and frantic whines left your lips, body slumped and stilled as you cum from riding his thigh. The wet spot on his jeans is what drives him wild, a primal growl leaves his lips, and he can’t control the desire he has to take you here, as you slept.

“You wouldn’t mind”, he reasoned aloud. “You’d wanna help your daddy wouldn’t you angel?” He muttered as he pulled his jeans down to his knees, pulling his aching cock out of it’s containment.

His fingers peel your soaked panties to the side, cursing when he feels with his fingers that your cunt is dripping with slick. He couldn’t fight the devil’s temptation, the sin of lust had already possessed him and your sweet, sweet juices coated his fingertips.

He dragged his sticky fingers down his cock, pumping it a few times before lining himself up to your hole. He exhaled a few times as he pushes himself in, animalistic grunts leaving his lips at the feeling.

You stir for a moment, Joel stills and makes sure you’re asleep before he continues. He pumps himself into you, hips meeting yours in a slow motion, teasing himself, watching you be so vulnerable under him sent an arousal though his entire body.

He felt his orgasm coming on fast than it had ever before.

“That’s it angel..” He grunts, unable to stop the words from slipping past his lips. “I’m almost done princess, just let daddy use you.”

His body shakes heavily as he ruts into you, going deeper. His arms have moved so they’re now wrapped around you, and his voice is a little breathless and even more husky as he lets out small groans and moans.

But he's still holding himself together fairly well considering how close he is to falling apart. His body still tenses up, though, as he continues to fuck her while she sleeps.

Joel doesn’t feel bad, like he can’t comprehend why this would be such a terrible thing if you did wake up—he’s past the point of feeling guilty, he knows you’d want to be his good girl and help him finish.

“You're such a good girl.” He murmurs softly, his voice is slightly breathless and husky as he stares at her and kisses her softly on the lips.

He grunts softly and shifts his body even closer to her, so he’s flush against your chest. His legs are still shaking a little, and he feels a rush as he gets close to cumming and almost reaches it.

“Almost…” He trails off, his voice a mere whisper.

“Just... give me a minute... and I'm all done…” He adds softly, his voice cracking as he starts to come undone.

His grip on your hips tighten, cock now slamming into your hole harshly, crushing your body under his as he rams into you, Joel’s starting to lose his composure, not worried about waking you anymore.

He lets out an animalistic growl as he cums, long ropes of cum filling your spend cunt, trickling down your thighs and onto the bedsheets as his cock continues to pulsate into you.

“Fucking—Jesus baby you’re squeezing me.” He growls, feeling your cunt squeeze around him, you moan loudly and he realises that you’ve just had an orgasm.

Your eyes shoot open and it doesn’t take long to put the pieces together. Reality hits him as he realises what he’s done. Joel’s face suddenly turns to one of guilt, panic. He pulls out of you and starts breathing heavily.

“Baby—I can.. I’m sorry I wasn’t—I didn’t think.. I don’t know what came over me.” He stuttered, voice thick with emotion, his hazel eyes were soft and it was clear as day he couldn’t resist it.

You feel your face and neck warm as you take his hand in your own. “It’s okay, I like it—seriously. It’s sexy, the idea of you taking what you need and looking after me is perfectly okay with me baby.”

He starts to calm down, long arms extending to pull your body into his own, you’re both sweating and covered in cum.

“You’re so good to me angel. I dunno what I’d do without you.” He mutters tiredly, nuzzling his crooked nose into her hair.

This would need to be an in depth discussion. That could be done in the morning; for now, you were happy, Joel was happy. That’s means enough to fall asleep in each other's arms happily for a few hours.

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader

The first TLOU fic I ever read was a dbf!Joel story and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Unfortunately, I never bookmarked it so I have no idea which one it was. It's only natural that I had to try my hand at one at some point. So, here we are.

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.1k

Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which will be explained at some point.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

If you asked him over a decade ago where he’d be now, Joel Miller would not have placed himself as a single father to a tenacious pre-teen desperately trying to keep things afloat. He spent too many hours in the week working to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. He would be lost without the help of his brother and the few friends he had. He had no social life to speak of and could not for the life of him remember the last time he went on an actual date.

No, back then, Joel thought he’d be living the good life in ten years’ time – traveling, going out with the boys, maybe have a girlfriend or wife. Basically, just getting to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Don’t get him wrong, though. He was still living a good life; it just was a different sort of good than what he hoped for back in the day.

He loved his daughter with every fiber of his being. Sarah was the best damn thing that ever happened to him, his entire world, and he wouldn’t change the past ten years for anything. He bent over backwards doing whatever it took to make his little girl feel cared for, happy, and loved. He just wished there was a little energy left for something for himself at the end of the day.

Joel Miller was drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

He awoke with a groan as the bright sunlight broke through the gap in his curtains. It was Saturday – his birthday – and he hoped to sleep in, at least a little. Between the brightness of the morning and the stifled sounds of clanging pans and voices carrying up the stairs from his kitchen, sleeping in was not happening.

He hauled himself out of bed with a groan worthy of a man twenty years his senior and stretched out his limbs to ease the achiness in his bare back and chest from too much manual labor. Throwing on a pair of well-worn sleep pants and a faded tee shirt, Joel slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs. He moved rather quietly for a man of his size, stealing a moment to lean against the entryway into the kitchen and watch as Sarah and Tommy worked together making breakfast.

The counters were a mess of spilled pancake mix, eggshells, and… was that coffee dripping over the edge and onto the floor? It was a toss-up on who made the bigger mess, his ten-year-old daughter, or his grown ass brother. Still, Joel could not stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them laughing and teasing each other. That, right there, was the reason he worked so hard, why the loneliness was worth it.

When Tommy flipped the stovetop off, Sarah turned to find her dad smiling goofily at them. “Happy Birthday, Dad!” she exclaimed, launching herself at his chest. Her lanky arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Thanks, baby girl,” Joel replied, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before he settled her feet on the ground.

“We made you breakfast!” Sarah declared, gesturing toward the disaster zone formerly known as his kitchen.

“I see that,” he chuckled, voice still slightly rough with sleep.

Tommy turned with a smirk, hands grasping two plates filled with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Take a seat, brother. Let us take care of you on your birthday.” Placing the food on the small dining table, Tommy roughly patted his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mess, I’m on cleanup duty after we eat.”

“We expectin’ company? That’s a helluva lot of food,” Joel grumbled. He needed coffee, stat.

“Yeah, JB is comin’ over to see ya before heading to the airport. His daughter finished grad school over the summer and is moving back home.” Tommy set more food and a full mug of dark roast coffee in front of his brother. The scent alone made Joel perk up a little.

The Millers hadn’t met you yet, having only become friends with your dad through work after you’d already left for college on the east coast. Your dad had a good decade on Joel, but he and the Miller brothers got on like a forest fire from what he told you. With visits home always short and rushed, busy catching up with family and your own friends, there was never time for your dad to introduce you all. Now you were coming home for good and would have plentiful opportunities for spending time with your dad and his friends.

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered as the doorbell rang. Sarah bounded to the door to greet your dad with a hug. In many ways, the girl reminded him of you when you were young, and it always brought a smile to his face.

“There he is! The man of the hour. Happy Birthday, buddy!” Your dad, John, or JB as the Millers called him, ruffled Joel’s already mussed hair, leaving a few locks standing straight up in further disarray. Pulling a 12-pack of beer from behind his back, your dad set it on the table in front of Joel, topped with a little red bow. “I gotcha a lil’ something to celebrate.”

“Good man,” Joel replied with a chuckle. “Have a seat and help me eat all this. Tommy just told me your lil’ girl is coming home, finally.”

Your dad’s face lit up even more at the mention of you coming home. “She’s not so little anymore, but I sure am glad she’s moving back here. Said she had enough of the east coast, but I think she just missed her ol’ man.” After wolfing down some food, he added, “Think we could host a small barbecue here this coming weekend to celebrate? Your backyard is way nicer than mine and you got the pool and all.”

“Not to mention that fancy ass grill,” Tommy chimed in.

Swallowing a long sip of his morning go juice, Joel nodded. “Of course. Invite whoever you want. I’m looking forward to finally meeting your daughter.”

“Me too!” Sarah added. She heard a lot about you from your dad and hoped you were as cool in person as he made you out to be.

Joel’s mind started spinning upon hearing his daughter’s excitement. With her school hours being so different from his typical work hours, he was spending a small fortune on after school care for Sarah. She was still too young for him to leave home alone, especially on those days where he’s stuck late at a job. He was barely scraping by as it was and couldn’t really afford the cost of after school programs. Perhaps…

“JB, ya think your daughter would mind watching Sarah during the week while she’s home. Drop off and pick up from school and keeping her company ‘til I get home from work? I could pay her – it wouldn’t be much, but better than nothin’, I imagine.” He watched Sarah’s eyes light up at the suggestion and knew it was a good choice.

“I’m sure she’d love to. She wasn’t planning on finding a real job until after the holidays, so I know she’ll be free during the day,” your dad replied. “I’ll talk to her about it on the ride back from the airport and let you know.”

Three suitcases and a carry-on bag. That’s all you had left from six and a half years of pursuing higher education in North Carolina. You sold or gave away anything that did not fit into your luggage or hold sentimental value of your time away. Now, you were moving back home to save some money before you had to start chipping away at the mountain of student loan debt you accrued.

You loved learning, always have, but you were relieved to be done with school. Equipped with a bachelor’s degree in earth sciences and a master’s in education, you felt like a real adult ready to take the world of middle school by storm… well, starting after the new year, maybe. For now, you needed several months of limited to no responsibility to recoup your mental and physical energy. That last couple years of school really burned you out. Not to mention the last-minute rejection of a teaching position you thought was in the bag…

Anyway, you were better off leaving North Carolina behind and returning to Austin. You missed your dad something fierce and his particular brand of caring for you was exactly what your weary soul needed. It was you and him against the world, just like when you were a kid.

You flight was smooth and uneventful, yet you were relieved to deboard the plane. Something about being stuck in a tin can at the mercy of someone else’s ability to keep the thing from plummeting to the ground really aggravated your anxiety. Flying was something you would never enjoy; it was merely a means to an end when you wanted to travel long distances.

The journey to baggage claim was a slog with the crowd of passengers all heading to the same place. You were wondering how you’d wrangle three large suitcases by yourself when you caught sight of your dad. His broad smile took over his face when he spotted you, rushing over to sweep you up in a big bear hug.

“Hey Spud, how was the flight?” he asked as you waited for the baggage carousel to begin moving. “Looks like it was a full plane.”

“It was, but the flight was good. I’m really glad to be home.”

“Me, too, kid.”

You settled into a comfortable silence, watching various pieces of luggage pass by on the carousel. Your bags were scattered, and you had to wait several cycles to get all of them. Your dad lugged the final suitcase over the carousel with a grunt. “Jesus, what you got in this one? Bricks? A body?”

“That one has my gaming system and half a closet full of clothes,” you replied with a laugh.

Before long, everything was loaded into your dad’s truck, and you were heading back towards town. The radio hummed at a low volume as you both chatted about everything and nothing all at once.

“Hey, so I know you said you weren’t looking for full-time work until after the new year, but I have a proposition for you.” Your dad’s eyes stayed focused on the road, and you merely quirked a brow waiting for him to continue. “My buddy Joel – you know the one I told you about? Well, his daughter is ten and he needs some help with the school run and after school care. Our work hours aren’t exactly the same as elementary school, you know?”

You nodded, remembering all the times your dad spoke to you about Joel, as well as his daughter and brother. Despite never meeting them, you felt like you already knew their whole life story. “So, he’s looking for a nanny or something? I could do that. It would keep me from getting lazy while I navigate getting my Texas teaching certificate.”

Your dad grinned, one hand patting your leg. “I was hoping you’d say that. Joel will pay you, of course, but just… don’t expect much. It ain’t easy for him being a single dad trying to keep everything afloat.”

Again, you nodded, a soft smile creasing your lips. You knew all too well how challenging it could be for single parents, having grown up with just you and your dad. Much like what your dad told you about Joel’s experience with the mother of his child, your mom split when you were barely a toddler. Things weren’t always sunshine and roses, but your dad sure did his best to make sure you had a great life. Honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that life with your dad. You had a feeling it was much the same for Joel and his daughter.

“I’m happy to help, even if he doesn’t pay me. I’m sure his daughter will enjoy having a female influence in her life if nothing else. What’s her name again? Sarah?”

Your dad’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yup, that’s it. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Spud.”

A mist of tears prickled your eyes as you mumbled out a “Thanks, dad.” After a beat, you added, “Must you keep up with that nickname?”

“Of course. You’ll always be my little Spud,” he laughed as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, by the way, we’re going to the Millers on Saturday for your welcome home party.”

“What’s all this?” Joel questioned as Tommy and Sarah placed a heavy, wrapped package on the table before him along with a few smaller presents. The remains of a birthday cake sat nearby, having been delightfully devoured by the Millers while celebrating Joel’s birthday.

“Just a little somethin’ from me and Sarah,” Tommy replied, a boyish grin alighting his handsome features.

Joel gazed between them with curiosity. Not big on celebrating his own aging, he rarely got big gifts. “You wanna help me open this, nugget?” Sarah’s eyes lit up, small hands reaching to tear the wrapping paper into shreds. It only took a few moments for the contents to be revealed, leaving Joel confused at the modern contraption sitting in front of him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You play video games on it, dumbass.” Tommy harumphed as he began a diatribe on the features of the gaming system – he had one just like it at his place and it provided hours of entertainment when he didn’t feel like going out. “I figured it would be a good hobby for you since you never want to join me in going out.”

“Huh,” Joel grunted in return, brows furrowed as he read the instructions on how to setup up the machine. His attention was diverted by Sarah shoving the smaller parcels into his lap.

“Here, dad! These go with it.” Together, they tore into the wrapping paper to find several video games, a few of which were family friendly. The final gift was a spare controller for the gaming system so he and Sarah could play together.

Despite still being unsure that the gift was a good fit for him, Joel was grateful to Tommy for the effort. “This is too much, man. You shouldn’t spend this kind of money on me, Tommy.”

His brother waved him off. “I found a great deal and you never get anything for yourself, brother. You deserve something to indulge in. Believe me, you’ll have fun with this.”

The rest of the evening was spent with Tommy setting up the system and showing the father-daughter duo how to play some of the games he picked out. The living room filled with lots of laughter and teasing, and Joel found himself really getting into the fun of the video games.

After tucking Sarah into bed, Tommy showed Joel a game that was too violent for the little girl but entertaining for the men. The game was set in Washington DC which had been ravaged by a brutal pandemic and the main character was part of a group of agents fighting off nefarious gangs trying to take over the city. Joel caught onto the gameplay quickly and the two men found themselves building the loadout for Joel’s character, taking out bad guys, and chatting well into the night.

At two in the morning, the pair looked at each other with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and finally called it a night. Joel directed Tommy to crash in the spare room as he shuffled off to bed upstairs.

It didn’t take you long to get settled into your dad’s house. It wasn’t the home you grew up in and you only visited a few times after he bought it. After years living away on your own, you thought it would be an adjustment being under his roof again, but it wasn’t. He understood the need for personal space and never hovered unless you were hurt or sick. He gave you the downstairs bedroom – it was the largest in the house, with an ensuite bath and huge walk-in closet.

“Dad, no! Why in the world is this not your room?” you questioned when he placed your bags on the brand-new, king size bed he had delivered the week prior.

“Hell no, Spud. What do I need all this space for? I like the upstairs rooms better – the light is all wrong in this one anyway.”

You looked around, holding in a giggle. The room faced south, giving you just the right amount of natural light all day. That’s what your dad didn’t like. He preferred to live like a bat in a cave with blackout curtains and limited lighting.

“Alright, well, I love it. The natural light is perfect for me. I can actually put some plants on the windowsills. Thank you!” You kissed his cheek as he left you to get settled.

You spent the week rearranging the bedroom how you wanted it, setting up your gaming system, and putting all your clothes into the walk-in closet. Your dad hadn’t done much with the room other than furnish it, so you made a few trips to the store to get a bathroom set, floor lamps, and wall décor to make the room your own.

Before you knew it, Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. The day of your welcome home gathering arrived, and you would finally get to meet the Millers. An excited energy had you moving about your space in a flurry, tidying up and getting ready early. You’d seen some photos of the Millers that your dad sent you – Sarah was adorable with her dark, springy curls, and Joel… Joel was handsome, in a broody, overworked kind of way, with dark, riotous curls and big, warm chocolate eyes. Kind eyes, you called them.

“Hey Spud, you ready?” your dad called from the kitchen as you put the finishing touches on your hair. It was pinned up, leaving the smooth skin of your neck bare. The sundress you picked hugged your curves in just the right way, falling just at your knees in a flow of lightweight material. In early October, Austin was still hot, and you hoped the Millers’ yard was shaded.

“Bring a swimsuit! They have a pool!” he yelled as you grabbed the last of your things. Turning back to your closet, you grabbed a dark green one-piece suitable for family-friendly swimming and tucked it into your bag.

“I’m ready!”

Your dad smiled at the sight of you. “Let’s go then. We’re heading over early so you can officially meet the Millers and we’ll help them setup before everyone else arrives.”

“Sounds good. Who all’s coming anyway?” Your eyes widened as your dad rattled off a list of people he invited, including his work buddies and some of his and Joel’s neighbors. He would have invited some of your old friends from high school, but you all lost touch over the years. The party was turning out bigger than you thought. Your heart swelled with how happy your dad was to have you home for good.

The Millers lived in the same neighborhood, only a few blocks away, so close you could have walked if not for the scorching sun. The drive took only a few minutes before your dad pulled into the driveway of a two-story home similar to your dad’s, with simple landscaping and two wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Lovely and quaint, the house made you more curious about the people who lived there.

“Dayum! Get a load a JB’s daughter, Joel,” Tommy called from the living room, leaning over the couch to look out the front window. “She’s smokin’ hot!”

“Dammit, Tommy. Stop spying on ‘em,” Joel growled, sneaking a peek over his brother’s shoulder to do a little hypocritical spying of his own. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of you and he couldn’t break his gaze away, even as JB led you toward the front door.

“What was that about spyin’, brother?” Tommy teased, practically dragging Joel away from the window as a knock sounded against the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

Tommy opened the heavy wooden door revealing the pair of you standing there, matching bright eyes and wide grins greeting him. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Tommy.” Reaching a hand toward you, Tommy completely ignored JB, who just scowled at him.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” you replied, offering him your hand and name in return. Joel’s scowl matched your dad’s expression as Tommy held your hand for several beats too long.

“Back off, Tommy,” your dad grunted, swatting at the younger Miller brother. “This here is Tommy’s brother, Joel. The one who actually owns this house and the better Miller, if you ask me.”

“Ain’t no one askin’ you, old man,” Tommy’s smart mouth shot back at your dad.

Joel ignored both men, eyes like dark pools as he gazed at you, awed at how small and delicate your hand felt in his. “Howdy, darlin’,” his voice rumbled from his chest. “Come on in. There’s someone else lookin’ forward to meeting you.”

Leading the way through the kitchen into the backyard, Joel felt the heat of your gaze burning his back. Were you checking him out? There was no way. You were beautiful and likely in your early twenties. He felt ancient, though he was only in his early thirties, the hard labor of construction work having taken its toll on him.

“Hi Dad!” a young, sweet voice called from a small swing set where a precious little girl entertained herself. “Who’s this?”

Joel introduced you to his daughter, leaving the two of you to get acquainted as your dad called him away.

“You were away at college?” Sarah questioned, motioning for you to take a seat on the swing next to hers.

“I was,” you replied. “But I’m back for good now.”

“That’s good. What grade did you get to? I’m in fourth grade.”

You thought about it a moment. “I guess it would be 18th grade. But you stop counting grade numbers after 12th and start using different words to describe what year you’re in during college.”

Sarah listened raptly while you explained the different terms, what you studied in school, and what kind of job you were hoping to get.

“You want to be a teacher?” she asked, awed.

“I do! I want to teach middle grade science.”

“I love science! Maybe you could be my teacher when I get to sixth grade!”

Joel returned with your dad and Tommy in tow to find you and Sarah having a blast. The little girl sat in your lap as you kicked your feet out, swinging as high as you could, singing some camp song you remembered from your youth.

“See? Told ya she’d love to spend time with Sarah,” your dad said to Joel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring at the two of you with a glazed look in his dark eyes.

Shaking himself off, Joel turned to your dad. “Guess I better work out some details with her.” He stepped over to the swing set, taking a seat on the empty swing and hoping to the heavens above that it held his weight. He struggled internally on how to start the conversation and was just about to blurt something out when his amazing daughter saved the day.

“Dad! She wants to be a teacher! A science teacher! Isn’t that cool? Did you ask her about watching me yet? I think she’d love to.” Sarah rambled on excitedly, amusing you and Joel. Turning to you before Joel could chime in, Sarah turned to you with baby cow eyes, adding, “You would love to, right?”

How could you ever resist that look? No one could. Both you and Joel were powerless as you nodded, and the offer became official. Cell numbers were exchanged and before you knew it, you had a job starting Monday.

Hours later, slightly drunk on spiked fruit punch and buzzing with energy, you thanked Joel for hosting the barbecue and giving you a job. You kissed his stubbled cheek, forcing thoughts of how attractive he was as far down as they could go. You could not develop a crush on your boss. “I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” you declared before following your dad through the front door.

TBC

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

MINORS DNI

Warnings: NSFW, soft smut, sub!jason, praise kink, riding, blowjob, boob sucking

"Let me take care of you."

Jason came through the window of your shared room, tired and spread the scent of blood, gunpowder, and musk. He was already peeling off the heavy chest plate as he entered your room, his mood slightly lifting as he saw you in bed with your reading glasses on and his book in your hands.

He'd be lying if he said that seeing you in his shirt that hung loosely around your shoulders didn't turn him on right there, but he was just so exhausted. He doesn't think he could please you tonight, even though he said he would after all the dirty messages sent back and forth just a few hours ago.

You picked up his tired state just as he came in. You bookmarked his novel, placing it carefully on the bedside desk together with your glasses before quickly getting up and helping him remove his armour and tactical pants, his compressed shirt following suit.

"Sorry, ma. Last hour of patrol was a tough one," Jason grunts, rolling his shoulders back in circular motions, which you quickly noted.

You shushed him, telling him it was okay as you dug through your wardrobe, looking for a shirt and sweatpants for your boyfriend.

You threw a pair of dark grey sweats to Jason, looking for a shirt for him as he puts on the sweatpants.

"Don't need a shirt, babe. Just come to bed with me." He mumbles, cracking his neck, trying to feel some sort of relief.

Your eyebrows scrunch together in worry for him. They quickly rise as an idea pops into your head.

You walk over to Jason, who is already sitting in bed, leaning against the headboard, and blanket half draped across his legs.

"Want a massage, my love?" You asked innocently, wanting to help out your oh so tense man.

Jason always loves it when you call him that. Your love. Yours. That's right. He's yours. Jason has devoted his love and loyalty to you and only you. In Jason's eyes, you are the most beautiful, perfect woman he's ever seen. Even if you had curves or folds or scars or stretch marks or whatever you found a part of your body as an insecurity, he'd still see you like you are a beautiful sculputre, handcrafted by the most talented artist ever, or even carefully sculpted by God himself, and brought to life just for him. For Jason. For someone who has committed unforgivable things. Yet you're here, and you stay with him.

Jason sighs deeply, a weak yet encouraging smile stretching across his lips. "Sounds good, mama."

You smiled at his acceptance as you threw your leg over his thighs, straddling his waist. You place a soft kiss on his forhead before laying your hands on his broad shoulders, squeezing them as sighs and grunts escape Jason's lips.

"Feels good, baby," he was able to mutter. "'m sorry."

Your face displayed confusion. "I was supposed to be the one to take care of you," he says. You roll your eyes, smirking, knowing that he was referring to his previous texts.

"It can work both ways, lovely," you reply, your massage on his shoulder becoming more firm. Jason smile grew wider, leaning forward to place a kiss on your collarbone and his hands resting on your hips.

With every squeeze of his shoulders, your grip became firmer. And then boldly, you gently rolled your hips against his.

Jason sucked in a sharp breath. "And what do you think you're doing," Jason grunts.

You look at him innocently. "What do you mean? Just taking care of you, sweetheart," you say, grinding yourself against his semi-hard crotch again.

Jason tries his best to contain himself. "You're a god damn minx. You know that, yeah?"

You shrug a shoulder, a cheeky smirk growing on your lips. "You've said a couple of times here and there."

Jason scoffed as he pulled your hips closer to him, attaching your lips together with teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance.

Jason shuffled, trying to flip your current position, bht you held onto the headboard, keeping you in place.

"Didn't I say I was the one who was taking care of you tonight?" You said, sending a sharp stare into Jason's eyes. You lightly sigh, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, your moist lips dragging along his skin.

"You're exhausted. Let me take care of you. Please?" You whined, rolling your hips against him once more.

Jason mentally cursed at himself as he found you so fucking cute and hot at the same time. "I'm all yours, mama," he said, kissing your shoulder.

Your eyes shimmered in excitement, and Jason swore his heart melted.

Your hands roamed the bumps and curves of his abs that had different shapes and sizes of scars littered across his torso. You then placed wet kisses along his chest as you continued to grind against him, just for a little further teasing.

"Fuck- Y/n, please," you barely heard Jason whisper out.

You stopped what you were doing and kissed his lips. "What is it, love?"

"Please... Please just touch me already. Need- Ngh. Need to feel ya," Jason whined, bucking his hips up as you felt his cock was diamond hard.

You grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "So polite, hm, Jason?" You say, slipping your hands past his waistband, pulling his sweats down for his already leaking dick to pop out. You licked your lips at the sight.

"Just sit back and relax for me, alright, my love?" You remind him as Jason nods.

You move your hand to wrap around his cock, your thumb rubbing over the flowing tip, precum dripping down. Your hand starts to pump up and down on his dick as Jason throws his head back, stifling back his whimpers and moans, his grip tightening around your waist.

You pouted at him and stopped your movements. "Don't tell me you're trying to keep quiet, Jay. Let me hear you, yeah? Be good f'me," you encouraged him.

"Mm-ngh.. ye-yes, okay, ma," he whines. "Just... Just please move- fuck."

You kiss his nose. "My sweet, good boy," you whisper, earning another pathetic whine out of Jason. "Mama's gonna take such good care of you," you say, kissing your way down his chest, his abdomen, your lips grazing across his happy trail and finally gking up to where his red tip ached for contact.

You kissed the slit that leaked the milky seed as your hand went down to his balls, applying slight pressure, which made Jason's fingers that was tangled in your locks tug against them and his other hand that made creases in the sheets has its knuckles turn white.

Jason's sounds of desperate whimpers and whines are music to your ears. You finally wrap your lips around his length, your tongue swirling around the underside.

"F-fuck!" Jason cried out. "Mm.. good, that f-feels so good, baby."

You responded with a muffled hum as your cheeks were stuffed with his cock.

You felt it twitch in your mouth, and before Jason could reach his high, you pulled away from his length with a pop sound as Jason whined with a tear coming out of the corner of his eye from the loss of warmth around him.

You kneeled up, holding against the headboard for balance. Jason looked up at you with glassy, teary, and confused eyes.

"You're gonna be good for me again, yeah?" You question him, Jason nodding in response, willing to do anything for you.

You shifted yourself so that your sopping cunt was hovering directly above his tip, just begging for more of you.

"Please, please, I need you so bad," Jason groaned, trying to lift his hips up, and you couldn't help but giggle at his neediness.

"You'll get me, don't worry, baby," you say, letting yourself sink onto his throbbing cock, your nails digging into Jason's shoulders.

Sure you and Jason fucked multiple times before, but you still couldn't get use to how big he was every time he fucks you.

You laid your head on his shoulder, adjusting yourself to his size before pushing yourself up, and then down again, your body bobbing back and forth, the sounds of skin slapping echoing in the room.

"Shit, love-" You choked out. "So... So fucking big... you feel so so good. Ngh- My good boy."

As Jason is fully unable to form any words or sentences from his euphoric state, more tears slip from his eyes. You quickly notice, your hands rushing to his face, wiping them away with your thumb. You made sure to make eye contact with Jason as you put your thumb in your mouth, licking away his salty tears, which made Jason throw his head back, followed by a desperate moan.

"Every part of you just gotta taste so good, huh, pretty boy?" You taunt, enjoying seeing face scrunch up in pleasure and need.

As you ride him, you comb your fingers through his hair, a handful of locks in your hand as you tug it back to make him look up at you. You puff your chest out at him as Jason licks his lips.

"Want a taste, love?" You ask as Jason nods his head vigorously. You hum in response, kissing his forhead before pulling his head closer to your boobs, letting his mouth attach to one of them.

Jason's eye rolls to the back of his head, and his mouth is covered in his dribble as his hand massages your other breast. His tongue brushes over your nipple back and forth, making you moan in pleasure.

"Fuck, baby, I can’t- I just need to-" Jason stutters, his voice muffled as his mouth is currently occupied. His arm wraps around your back as he flips you two over. "Let me fuck you, please, mama. I can take care of ya," He begs, pleading eyes watching over you.

Your hand reaches up to caress his cheek as you nod. "Yeah.. Yeah, you can take care of me, my love," you assure him. Jason buries his head into your neck as he thrusts his hips into you, his tip reaching thay sweet spot that always made your back arch.

"Fuck, yes! Right there, Jay, oh god," you whine, nails dragging down his back, leaving streaks of red behind. "Feel- ngh, feel so good, m-my sweet boy."

Jason's spine shivers at the constant praise, his thrusts becoming deeper and faster. "Love y-you. I love you so much, Y/n. Fuckin' love you," Jason was finally able to grunt out, feeling his climax reach.

But for you, that's when you started seeing stars. It wasn't the first time Jason told you he loved you. But every time he did say it, it always had a special effect on you. For this time, his little daily confession had you cum before you could even process his words.

"Fuck!" Jason hisses. "Just a little longer, baby." He says, continuing to pump in and out of you.

"Nghh.. fuck- my love. Always so perfect. I love you too. My- oh! My perfect boy," you stutter. Jason's arms hold themselves tight around your body, your skin clamped together as his seed shoots out.

Jason continues to rude out his high as he deeply panted, leaving weak kisses on your shoulder. As Jason pulls out, he reaches for the cloth inside the bedside drawer and using the water from the cup you always leave on the desk to dampen it.

He silently cleans you up and lazily throws it onto the floor, saying he'll deal with it in the morning as he lays back down on your chest. Your fingers roam free through his tangled hair, whispering sweet nothings to him before the two of you fall asleep in each others embrace.