#thank you for the early morning thots

[rhoorl]

Happy Friday Jess!

I hope you've had a good week. Here's a little treat.

I'll be off now....

LOL this made me laugh, El, thank you. I hope you had a great week!

[runa-falls]

FREE USE WITH MIGUEL? LIKE ANYWHERE ANYTIME?

a/n: YES NONNIE, ANY--FUCKING--TIME. AND HERES ONE OF THOSE TIMES :^) idk if this is free-use or feral!reader or both. anyway, just enjoy it lol. like every time, this got away from me

special thanks to mona (@whatthefishh) for letting me scream this shit to her over discord + for helping me figure out exactly what 'free use' is lol

cw: smut (18+), free use kink, small very small bit of somnophilia (CAN'T ESCAPE IT), non-explicit oral (m-receiving), afab!reader, mentions of ovulation (+ period) horniness, fingering, cockwarming, fucking w/ multiple orgasms, the same Spanish pet name used over and over, reader is basically a bothersome cat, writer is so all over the place it's confusing.

wc: 2.4k (this was supposed to be a quick thot but wtvr)

---

miguel is a gracious boyfriend, he practically lives to please you. so when you approach him in the middle of the day with nothing but his shirt draped over your figure, he has a hard time rejecting your advances.

sure, he tries, but every time he gives you what he wants.

you're spoiled, really.

miguel works at home as much as possible. he hates having to leave you before the sun rises, walking away from a perfectly cozy bed and wet cunt (😳).

miguel convinces himself that Spider HQ can survive a day or two without him on site. he has several capable Spiders that do most of the heavy lifting for him and LYLA isn't afraid to take charge, sitting her holographic ass in the boss' chair.

he can set up mission plans and keep track of everything from his laptop, and he's always on call if he is needed for anything. the only issue is that working remotely doesn't work when he can't get anything done.

he's trying to go over notes from a meeting that was held earlier this morning.

he was supposed to be there, but you physically wouldn't let him out of bed. he swears you're a Spider yourself with the strength you have when you're especially needy and sleepy.

he smelled it when he woke up in the middle of the night to you mouthing over his boxers, that decadent sweetness that indicates you're ovulating.

you were desperate to get a taste of him, to fill that unbearable emptiness inside of you, whimpering with relief when you finally feel his fingers bury themselves in your hair to push your further against his bulge.

he learned early in your relationship that your insatiable appetite for him increases tenfold during your window of fertility (don't even mention your period). and so does your need for sleep. so he caters to your needs accordingly.

you passed out after convincing him to fuck the heat out of you, to snuff out the fire until your neediness recedes. apparently, the only time you aren't horny is when you're sleeping (though that isn't true... you wake up horny all the time??).

you've been sleeping soundly ever since, utterly exhausted by his thorough support, but he knows that once you wake up, you'll be crying for him again.

he crawled back into bed with you after telling LYLA to take over for the day, but after a few hours of almost suffocating because of the way you curl up on his chest like a cat, he got up to get some coffee and finish some computer work.

as soon as his warmth left you, you fussed. eyes still closed as you whined and moaned for his body. he shushed you, gently smoothing down your bedhead until you settled.

it didn't last for long.

you padded out of bed with bleary eyes, clearly looking for him when you walked into the living room. he offered you a quick "morning, cariño." before focusing back on his computer. he had to limit as much contact with you as possible if he wanted to finish his work.

just a few more pages and a couple of emails, and then he can give you all the attention you need.

his shirt brushes against your thigh like a summer dress as you make your way through the room.

he looked adorable with his loose white long sleeve on and black dad-glasses. his hair is still curly and fluffed, telling you he wasn't planning on leaving you anytime soon.

you shuffle over to the couch, sitting next to him with a sigh.

he doesn't react.

somehow, the minimal recognition that you're there, his adamant refusal to look at you, turns you on as much as it irritates you.

he's really trying his best to be a good boss, hm? trying to resist a temptation that's barely a foot away from him.

it makes you feel dirty and deprived. you blatantly rub your legs together, urging him to look. your gaze washes over his sharp jawline watching as it clenches at your soft coos.

"...baby."

"'m working, amor." his voice is still soft, despite the efforts he's taking to ignore you.

you huff.

"but--"

"not right now."

you scoot closer to him, strategically allowing the hem of his shirt to ride up on your thighs. so he's really going to make you do it...

you tug at his sleeve, taking his arm away from his work (though it doesn't look like he was working on much at all, he's been sitting on that exact page for 5 minutes now).

"not right now, mi vida..." he protests lightly, but he doesn't move away. he's not even trying, you think.

you smirk at his empty words. you can see the way he's looking at you: your messy hair, bare legs, the shadow of his shirt hiding away your most sensitive spot. his breathing grows heavier and so does his stare.

"i have work--" miguel is always so soft and sweet to you, melting in your hand though he has all the power to stop it.

"please, miguel? just one, for me?" his lips part as you place his hand against your bare thigh, slowly dragging it upwards until it meets your center.

he doesn't take his hand away, doesn't even pull back a single inch, instead, he instantly complies, cupping his warm hand over its entirety. he chokes out a low groan. you're not wearing anything underneath.

"ok, i guess if it's only once..." he whispers, already breathy. he's leaning over you, almost on top of you, forcing your legs to spread impossibly wide.

he watches as his finger rubs against your slick center, spreading your wetness until you're glistening for him under the late morning light. he pushes in slowly, so slowly, eyes flicking up to your face to witness the small o your mouth makes as he presses in deeper.

his mouth waters as he fingers you, he wishes he had enough time to go down on you, and taste your slick straight from the source. he knows how much you love it when he fucks you with his tongue and suckles on your clit. but no, he has work to do. he needs to get you off so he can finally focus.

"this what you needed, cariño?" it's all but growled into your space, his voice low and taunting. all you can do is nod with bleary eyes as your hands grip onto his thick bicep for support.

he adds another finger and thrusts them into you quicker, angling them just so his palm can gently nudge at your clit. he can feel you tightening around him already, fluttering with each pass that he makes against your g spot. he presses harder, drinking in your choked gasp and shaking thighs.

you're so wet, spilling over his fingers and dripping against his hand. the noises between you are deafening. a mixture of sopping thrusts, heavy breathing, and quiet mewls fill the still silence of the living room.

he's so good at this, too good at this.

how can he make you fall apart with just his hands, caress every sensitive nerve with a single stroke?

you're at the cusp of euphoria. your body, filled to the brim with pleasure, urges you to let go, to take what you want. but you don't want to. you want to stay at the edge forever with his hands on you, to be at the center of his affections, always just one breath away from transcendence.

you're not ready for him to stop touching you anytime soon, you realize. you still need it and after you'll need it again. you need him.

his glasses start sliding as he looks down at you, dropping until they're barely at the tip of his nose. he's focused, eyes locked on how he fills you again and again.

his fingers speed up, expertly aiming against that special spot inside of you. your hips rise from the couch, needing him as deep as possible. then it all falls apart.

you cry out, back arching and eyes rolling. your body is barely touching the couch under you and it feels like you're being lifted up by unknown forces as you reach your climax. white fills your vision and heat thrums through your limbs. you can't hide your one orgasm from him, it's too intense.

before you could recover, he slips his fingers out of you.

"alright, honey, we're done." he casually sucks your essence off of his fingers before propping his glasses back to the arch of his nose.

"ok, ok, i get it. you're busy." you pant, still pulsing from your high. and...he's already back to work. he wasn't kidding when he said he had stuff to do. "i'll just...be sitting here."

so you watch him get back to work, or you try to. the incessant scrolling, typing, reading, and muttering thoughts that accompany his work is usually enough to put you to sleep. it's an unusual lullaby that's attached to him. one that brings you the comfort of knowing he's near.

but he's hard.

he seems so relaxed, so content to work, but his erection presses so desperately against his sweats, outlined perfectly by the grey fabric.

so how could you not touch him? he clearly needs your help... and if he doesn't, then you need it.

you want to be good, you do, but when he types so effortlessly like that with the fingers that were just stuffed in your cunt, or when he looks over his dad-glasses to look at something like a hot fucking nerd, you can't help it.

it's been, what, 12 minutes? that's enough work for the day in your opinion.

you start slow, hesitantly, watching to make sure he's not looking at you (though he can clearly see you from his peripheral vision). you stand up on the couch right next to him. you're a bit unstable on the squishy cushions so you use his shoulder for support.

he looks over at you, confused as to why you decided to walk all over the furniture like a toddler.

you carefully maneuver over his arms to settle yourself on his lap. you're a koala around him, holding your torso to his, looping your arms around his neck and sharing your shimmering lustful body heat. he grunts when you scoot even closer to him, your bare pussy pressing entirely against his covered cock.

but he ignores it.

he doesn't say anything, barely even moves, and just continues to work. you pout a bit, but let him. you convince yourself that you're content with just sitting here and enjoying his company (despite the large distraction that pulses against your pussy, pressing so sweetly under your needy clit).

you listen to his steady heartbeat and slow breaths, the occasional sound of tapping keys. you nuzzle against the soft shirt that stretches over his chest. you're fine.

it's not like you're leaking all over his sweatpants, leaving a puddle at the apex of the fabric. you're not crying on the inside, so empty and fluttering around nothing. you're fine.

until you arent.

you lazily lift your hips above his, nearly head-butting his chin in the process. his arms lift to help you get settled, hands resting on your waist, as patient as ever.

you reach below you and he stiffens. he wasn't expecting you to--

your hand buries itself under his sweats, delicate fingers brushing over his erection. he breathes out your name when you squeeze him teasingly before pulling him out.

"what did i say?" he grunts, hand swiftly wrapping around your wrist. the words are lost on your ears as you caress the silky steel in your fist. it pulses at your touch. he needs this.

he says your name once more.

"you're working."

"then why are you trying to fuck me?!"

"i'm only going to sit on it." you give him an innocent look. you slowly lower yourself so your dripping center meets his before sliding your glistening lips over his hardness. "won't move or say a thing, promise!"

"cariño..."

"just wanna warm you, baby." you position him right against your entrance. "is that so wrong?" you lower yourself before he can say anything else.

you take him easily with how wet you are, and he fills you perfectly. he sucks in a breath at the feeling then growls out, "don't move."

well, you do move (is anyone surprised). you move a lot. but he moves too. harsher and more competitive. who the hell fucks competitively?

you moan over him, bouncing on his cock eagerly. his hands hold your waist, guiding your movements just how he likes it: fast and hard. his laptop, somewhere on the other side of the couch, is forgotten and probably long dead by now. so much for working at home.

you've cum at least four times already, but who's keeping count (you're not. you're so fucked out, you have to manually breathe now.)

he won't let up anymore. you asked for it and you're getting it.

"do i gotta fuck you to sleep, hm? is that the only way you'll leave me the fuck alone and let me work?"

you only admit now that you're eyes were definitely bigger than your stomach. you're practically drooling as he takes control once again, snapping his hips from under you, harsh and punishing. as if this is a punishment.

he has to carry you back to bed that afternoon. he couldn't just leave you on the couch, naked and shivering. plus you'd be a distraction with your bruised hips and fucked out cunt.

you murmur adorably in your sleep as your body unconsciously nuzzles further into his arms. he places you lovingly on the bed and you immediately curl up. he sighs, brushing your hair out of your face because he knows how much you hate it when it gets in your eyes or tickles at your nose during the night.

you look so cozy and comfortable. but so alone in this huge bed.

he debates laying down with you, only until you're in a deeper sleep.

maybe just a few minutes?

LYLA had a few choice words when he woke up in the morning....

[endlessthxxghts]

Bend Over

Javier Peña x afab!reader || W/C: 4.8k

Summary: Your dresser craps out on you. Your boyfriend, Javier, comes with you to IKEA to buy a new one. Then, he fucks you on it.

Content/Warnings: I think you know what you guys are getting into based on the summary😗. Reader is able-bodied. Slight implied physical descriptors Javi is taller than reader, and the IKEA dresser is slightly bigger/taller than you (everything else is neutral - no size descriptions - ex. "your form", etc.). Pet names (good girl, querida, cariño, baby, baby girl, mama, mi amor). Implied that reader knows Spanish. A little allusion to our favorite contractor, Joel Miller (blink and you’ll miss it). SMUT 18+ MDNI. Public sexual activity (exhibitionism). Finger fucking. Edging. Slight undertones of BDSM dynamics. Javi’s filthy mouth. Thigh riding. Hickey/marking. P in V unprotected sex. Choking. Breeding kink (I’m not sorry). Cum play. Anal play. Brief pussy licking + rimming. Allusion to further sexual activity. I thiiiink that’s it… let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: HIII I’M BACK! I went to ikea to buy a new dresser. And the thots between @javierpena-inatacvest and I ran wild. So, this was born.👹 Also, I no longer have a tag list, but I teased this story TWICE in some WIP tag games, and a few of you were giving me so much love and wanting me to let you know when this story was posted, so I’m adopting the tag list (at da bottom) one last time to say how much I love you all. 🥹 I’m sorry this took me so long. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!!

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

It was supposed to be just a trip to IKEA. It was supposed to be a productive day of building your dresser and rearranging your room. That is what it was supposed to be. 

How it ended up with you getting your guts rearranged on top of said dresser—you’re not so sure. But, considering this is Javier Peña you’re talking about, maybe you have a slight indication of why your day ended up the way it did. 

It was early this morning when your dresser decided to shit on you; all you did was slide the door open, and it completely pulled off of its hinge. Now, you don’t mind a doorless dresser, it’s modern, you tried to convince yourself, but when you pulled out the second drawer and the wood snapped in half, scattering your panties all over the ground—yeah, okay, it was definitely time for a new one. 

You called your boyfriend after you cleaned up your clothes, and asked if he wanted to come with you on your hunt for the new piece of furniture. Why are you even asking? he scolded as he saddled up into his Jeep and made his way to your place. 

He stepped out of his seat in the driver side, rounding the hood to pull you in for a lengthy kiss as he pulled the passenger side door open for you. “Well, hello to you, too, baby,” you giggle as you break the kiss for a breath of air. He leaves a slap to your ass as he guides you by your hips into the passenger seat. He even buckles you in, stealing one more kiss before you two head off. 

You thought shopping for a new dresser would be simple: get in, choose a sizable one that could fit everything your previous dresser could, and also make sure it matches the rest of your room’s theme. Simple, right? Wrong. As long as Javier was involved, he took his sweet time really studying each option you were pointing out—analyzing it to ensure it wouldn’t crap out on you like your original one did. 

“How long did you have this dresser?” He asked as he was pulling into the IKEA parking lot. 

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you thought, “maybe a few years?”

“A few years?!” Javier asked, exasperated. “Where the hell did you find that fucking thing?”

You let a beat of silence pass before you answered. “...I thrifted it,” you admit weakly. 

Javier puts the car in park, his face in utter shock at what just came out of your mouth. “Querida, what-” he starts. 

You pull him in immediately, shutting him up with your lips against his. It works, of course. “Let’s go?” you ask. 

“Y-yeah, vamos (let’s go),” he says, flustered. 

“Javi, c’mon,” you whine, feeling exhausted after his analysis on your third option since the first two didn’t pass the Peña inspection. “Since when were you a contractor? The first two were perfectly fine, baby, it’s IKEA for crying out loud.”

He scoffs. “Living on the ranch with Pop,” he replies to your sarcastic remark. “You and I are both aware I know my way around some handiwork,” he adds as he looks back to you, a shit-eating grin creeping on his face. 

You want to roll your eyes, but you can’t help the way your body ignites to the suggestion laced in his words. “Pendejo,” you mutter to yourself, fighting the heat from making it to your face. 

You walk around some more while your boyfriend opens every nook and cranny of the wooden frame, but then right as you turn your body, you find it. The dresser. HEMNES. You quickly make your way to it, running your hands along the dark brown surface, crouching down to open up and see how much space is in the drawers—which, it’s very spacious. The drawer itself is taller than your waistline, probably reaching just at your belly button. It’s perfect. “Baby, wait, come here! I think I found one!” You call out. 

Javier follows your voice, intrigued by your excitement—you didn’t show this much enthusiasm with the other ones he was looking at. He rounds the corner and is met with quite a view. You are bending over the top of the dresser, on your tippy toes, trying to feel for the depth of the dresser. He sees you settle your hands at the edges of the top and shake it a little, testing out its durability while also unknowingly wiggling your ass. Fuck me, he thinks. Quickly adjusting his pants, he makes his way to you, situating his body directly against yours as he cages you in. 

“Jav-” you softly gasp, not expecting to feel him. Immediately you’re pulling yourself up, still on your tippy toes, but your back is now flush against his chest. 

“Ay, Dios mío,” he grunts as he whispers in your ear, “Querida, please get up.” His hands are on your hips, pulling you away from the dresser. You turn in his hold, a giggle leaving your throat as you look at his stressed out expression, realizing why his reaction was so pained. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask him quietly. “Saw something you like, huh?” You pull him in by his neck, kissing the side of his mouth before you pull away from him completely. Gesturing to the dresser, you ask, “Does this one pass the inspection, sir?” 

He glares at you before he replies. “Yeah, let’s get this one.”

Your eyebrow quirks up. “You didn’t even look at it.” 

“I saw enough, cariño,” he says gruff, looking at the tag on the display and taking note of which aisle the box will be at. 

You know your man well enough to know when he’s turned on, and that little unintentional stunt you pulled when making sure HEMNES was the right dresser for you—oh, it absolutely sent him over the edge. You decided to let him brew in his own arousal until you checked out your purchase, but the moment you set foot in his car again, you were set on starting something you wanted him to finish. 

“Thank you again for coming with me, baby,” you say as he settles back into the driver seat, your hand taking its seat on his upper thigh. 

The muscle twitches underneath your palm. “Mhm,” he mutters, voice wavering at your contact. Just as Javier puts the car in drive, he’s immediately pushing it back to park because your hand slides higher, closer, to the hardening bulge between his legs. His hips softly buck into your grasp; you take one look at him, and you can see the veins in his neck popping. A victory smile graces your face as his turns into a scowl. “What are you doing?”

You feign as much innocence as possible. “What am I doing? I’m just saying thank you, baby, I can’t tell you thank you?” 

“Right,” he says unconvinced. Your fingers continue to draw little shapes across the strained material of his pants. You go to cup him entirely, but the strength of his hand stops you. 

He releases your hand and gets out of the car, the car still running. He is at your side faster than you can take your own seatbelt off. He’s pulling your door open and giving you no chance for debate, his hand wraps around your jaw and pulls you into a bruising kiss—a messy yet calculated dance of teeth and tongue, and in pulling away he’s biting your bottom lip, pulling the sweetest little desperate whimper from your throat. He clocks the way your hips softly grind into his seat. 

“J-jav,” your voice shakes, “w-what are you doing-”

His grip on your jaw tightens, giving you a little shake as he speaks. “You had your fun, cariño,” he breathes. “My turn now.” 

His hand leaves your face and snakes down the front of your body, unzipping your jeans as you just stare wildly at the sight below you, your breathing erratic as your body anticipates his next move. 

“We- we’re in the fucking parking lot still, Javi!” You whisper yell at him, pissed, even though your body is doing absolutely nothing to stop him. He smirks at that fact. You want this. 

“Guess you’ll just have to keep quiet for me, yeah?” His fingers slip past your jeans, past your underwear, and you’re fucking soaked. His middle and ring finger bypass your clit, circling your entrance to gather the wetness accumulating before he comes back up to circle your throbbing bud. 

“Oh, fuck,” you yelp out, your eyes rolling back and your hips pushing into his hand as you hiss out in the pleasure. At your volume, Javi’s quick to stop his ministrations, cupping your mound and squeezing you as a warning. If the space allowed, you know he would’ve slapped your cunt. This alternative is equally as dizzying. 

“Open your eyes, baby,” he rasps. Your eyes flutter open. “You see all these people, huh? You want them to see you? See my good girl getting finger fucked in broad fucking daylight?”

“F-fuck, Jav” you whimper, much quieter this time, as your eyes land back on your man’s as you try and grind yourself on him. Javi’s fingers find your entrance then, sliding in with ease as a new wave of arousal pours out of you. 

“Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” His fingers speed up their momentum as he adds his thumb into the mix, hurtling you much closer to your finish line than you anticipated. 

“Baby, I’m c-close, I’m- fuck- I’m gonna cum, Javi, I-” you bring your hand up over your mouth to stifle the sobs that are about to leave your mouth.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna give us a show?” He asks, his breathing just as erratic as yours. All you need is one more little push from his thumb on your clit, and then-

“No!” you cry.

Right as you were about to fall over the edge, Javier completely pulls his fingers out of you, standing up straight as he licks his fingers off. Your hips don’t realize he left you as they buck a few more times, chasing the feeling of what could have been. 

“Baby, please, I was so close,” you heave, your heart rate equivalent to that of a hummingbird. 

Javier leans down into the car, slotting his lips against yours terribly slow; your taste lingers on his tongue. He pulls away. “Sorry, mama,” he whispers. “Only I get to see you fall apart like that.” 

He zips and buttons your pants up, leaving you a stunned, aroused, wet mess as he makes his way back to the driver seat and pulls out of the parking spot, driving back to your place as if nothing even happened. 

The drive home is short, but it feels like the longest drive you’ve ever had to endure. He rests his hand on your thigh the entire time, squeezing you every now and then as his pinky leaves featherlight touches where you need him most. He talks to you during the drive—about what, you honestly have no clue, but it seemed the conversation was enough for him to sustain alone. 

You’re brought out of your daze when his hand grabs your jaw, turning you to look at him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, knowing damn well what’s got your head in the clouds. 

The throbbing between your legs remained consistent—worse, even—on the drive home, so no you’re not fucking okay. You don’t tell him that, though. “Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your vocal cords to string together something coherent. 

He pulls your lips to his—a lingering one, one that has your mind slipping further. Breaking the embrace, he says softly, “Go unlock the door, amor, while I carry the box in, yeah?” 

On wobbly legs, you make your way to your door, missing the hole a few times but eventually the key slides in with ease. You toss them into the bowl on the entryway table, making your way to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water to contain yourself until Javier comes inside. 

Apparently, you’re way more distracted than you thought, because one gulp down and he’s behind you—hands on your waist, mouth on your neck. You set the glass down a little harshly, its weight suddenly increasing tenfold with the way he’s on you. 

“Baby,” you whine, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “Please.”

Your boyfriend is turning you around then, turning you to face him, and his mouth is on yours, licking and sucking as his body pushes you up against the fridge, your head landing with a soft thud as his mouth starts to descend down your neck while his fingers work your buttons and zipper for the second time today. 

He’s pulling your bottoms down to your ankles—they’re loose on your form, so they don’t restrict you too much from opening your legs when he slots his thigh in between you, hitting right against your core. 

His lips never leave you, biting and kissing every inch he can reach while his hands find their home at the globe of your asscheeks, securing his grip as he begins a steady pace of your crying pussy back and forth on his clothed thigh. 

“Just like that, cariño, I can feel you fluttering on me already, holy fuck,” he groans as he continues his assault on your chest, leaving pretty bruises all over the valley of your breasts. “Making such a mess, pretty girl,” he mutters into your skin. 

Your hands snake to the curls at the back of his head, yanking them as he brings you back closer and closer to the finish line. He brings his lips back to yours sloppily, one hand leaving your ass to paw at your chest, his fingers rubbing and twisting at your nipples; they harden in his touch.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, his tight jeans providing the yummiest friction against your clit. “I- I’m gonna- please, Jav, I- I need to cum,” you sob. 

His hand at your chest snakes down your body, following the path to your sex. Just as you think he’s about to slip his hands between your legs, his hand changes direction, both hands going up to grip your waist to stop you from moving. His thigh leaves your core, and you’re fighting—your hips chase his muscle, your fingers scrambling to pull him flush against you, but he doesn’t budge. It’s no use. Your high is gone again, painfully forced back to the start line as Javier bends down to grab your panties and work their way back up your legs. 

You’re a heaving mess, tears falling from your eyes as pathetic little protests fall from your lips. 

Exhausted, you sigh and finally blurt out, “Javier Peña, what the fuck are you doing?” 

You can see the faintest shit-eating smirk fall on his face before he mirrors what you did earlier: feign innocence. “Gotta go build your dresser, mi amor.” 

“I can fucking build it later.” 

“But I’m already here. I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah, but your presence is needed elsewhere,” you say, annoyed. You faintly gesture to your sobbing cunt, silenced by your soaked underwear. 

“But if I’m here, I’ll do it, so you don’t have to,” he says, placing a chaste kiss to the side of your mouth. 

“Javi,” you whine, hoping a thousand different ways of are you fucking serious right now translates to him in the tone of your sexual frustration. 

“Just sit pretty for me while I go do it real quick, okay, cariño?” 

Not giving you the chance to respond, he drags you by the wrist to your bedroom, forcing you to get settled in the reading chair you have in there—a prime spot to watch him get all sweaty as he works. Great. 

You wouldn’t have riled him up if you had known this was the kind of torturous game he had in mind. 

Twenty minutes in, and Javier is sweating alright, but it’s not for the reasons you’re thinking. Yeah, it’s a physical strain building this dresser, but this is fucking light work for him. 

No, he’s sweaty, sticky, and disgustingly hot because his dick is at his full potential, throbbing and leaking at everything you put him through—and everything he put himself through, pulling you to the brink of orgasm twice without letting you fully submit to it. He damn near always gets off when you do, and teasing you like this teases him just as much, if not more. 

He’s almost done, he just has one more drawer to put together and slide into place, but he takes a step back and uses his arm to wipe the sweat across his forehead, his breathing heavy during the action. It takes everything in you not to completely melt at what he’s forcing you to witness, a faint whimper escaping you at the sight of him. 

It takes him barely a minute to get the last drawer assembled before he attempts sliding it into place. It goes in with ease at first, but before it can fully shut, the drawer gets stuck, unable to close by an inch. What the fuck, he mutters under his breath, lifting it up and wiggling to see if it’s just a kink inside the railing. Your jaw falls a little open at the vulgarity of his mouth; you are way too wound up and everything he’s doing right now has your pussy doing backflips, somersaults, cartwheels—you name it. She’s very eager. 

Fed up with the drawer, Javier completely opens the drawer and then slams it shut, using his hips to give the drawer a full-force push. The slam of the wood is deafening, but it does nothing to hide the sweet little gasp that comes out of you, his cock twitching at the sound. 

A high-pitched, breathy squeak of an oh fuck leaves your mouth, and Javier turns to check on you. He sees your fingers skating down your front, running your middle and ring finger over your soaked center, your clit’s fire immediately reigniting at the contact. 

“¿Cariño?” He calls, a sternness evident in his tone. You know not to test that tone. Your fingers’ movements pause, your eyes meet his and they’re dark. “What do you think you’re doing?” Jesus fuck, he doesn’t even know if he has the strength to fuck you like he was planning on, the sight of you touching yourself has a fire igniting through every vein in his body. 

Your eyebrows are furrowed, nervousness written all over your face. “I…um, I-” you start. 

“Get up,” he cuts you off. 

“What?” You say softly, your brain already scrambled eggs and unable to register what he just asked of you. 

His singular eyebrow raises as he stalks closer to you, his hard gaze looking down at you as your pussy cries even more at the attention. Now his command registers, and you’ll be damned if you have to make him repeat himself. 

You remove your hand from your center, lifting yourself off your chair. He snags you by your waist, pulling your body flush against his front as he steals the breath from your lungs, your tongues meeting hungrily. You moan into his mouth, your hands slowly wrapping around his neck, but before you can grip his sweet curls, he’s pulling away from you, your surprised gasps blessing his ears as he flips you roughly but with ease towards the direction of your new dresser, already in its place secured against the wall. 

“Javi,” you whimper again for what feels like the millionth time already. 

“Dime qué quieres, cariño,” (tell me what you want) he rasps in your ear, his hands skating down your front and resuming what you so desperately started.

“F-fuck-” you start, “fuck me, Javi, please, please fuck me,” you beg, your heart stuttering as he dips his middle finger into your entrance.

He kisses your temple as your eyes fall shut, a contrastingly sweet gesture for the way he’s about to ruin you right now. 

“Then bend over.” 

Now that sobers you up a little. You start to crane your neck in his direction. “W-what?” But he’s quick to grab your jaw, bringing your eyes back to your dresser. “Go do what you were doing earlier, baby. Bend over that dresser for me,” he says, soft but stern, then he’s taking a step back, letting you get there on your own. 

So hooked on his body heat, you can’t help the shudder that leaves you, but ultimately you’re making your way to your new dresser—picking yourself up on your tippy toes to lean over the top, just like you were doing with the store’s floor model. “L-like this?” You ask, voice trembling in anticipation. You stick your ass out a little extra for good measure. 

You hear his belt buckle before you register his deep grumble. “Yeah, baby,” he tells you, slowly making his way to your backside. “So good for me,” he breathes, his fingers hooking into the hem of your underwear and letting them fall to the ground. You step out of them, knowing his next step is gonna be to nudge your legs further open—and he does, using his foot to nudge both of yours outwards. 

He runs his middle finger through your slick as he lets his jeans fall, your hips push further into his touch, chasing the pleasure you’ve been buzzing for all morning. 

“Baby, please,” he hears escaping your mouth. 

“Nuh uh, baby,” he tuts, “I told you. You had your fun already, it’s my turn.” 

He runs his fingers through your wet seam, properly soaking his digits before he brings his hand to his own arousal, covering himself in your slick. He groans at the feeling. Javier crowds himself behind you, his tip immediately mirroring the path of his fingers. He catches himself against your clit, and he smirks at the wrecked sounds of your heavy breathing. 

He pushes himself into you, slow and steady, getting you comfortable in his size. His fingertips are digging little bruises into your hips—his way of grounding himself from absolutely pummeling into you from the get go. 

You two have been together for quite some while, but Javi knows he’s big. It’s evident in the way you mewl and convulse every time he’s inside of you. Too big to get used to, yet perfect for the slight tinge of pain he knows you love. 

“Baby, please move,” you pant. 

“You sure, cariño?” He says softly, his dominant demeanor fading to make sure you’re alright. 

You reach back to grab onto his hand and drag it up your own body, settling his long digits around the base of your neck. With a squeeze of your hand over his: “Fuck me, Jav, please.” 

At your queue, he’s pushing himself into you entirely. “Yeah, baby?” He snarls. “Want me to fuck you like this?” His hips form a hard pace, your hips digging into the ledge of the dresser. “This what your pretty little pussy wants, huh? What she’s been fucking crying for, baby?”

“Fuck-” you gasp. “Fuck, yes- Javi, yesyesyes! Amor, please,” you wail, your eyes rolling back as the pressure of his fingers on your neck restrict your blood flow, filling your body with a euphoria only he can give you. 

His eyes scan down your body, taking in every inch of you with nothing but pure adoration. The sweetness fades when his eyes zone in on where your two centers meet. He lets out an audible moan at the sight, sending your pussy fluttering at the sound. “Look at you, bebita, fucking creaming on me, holy fuck,” he groans, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

“I- I’m close, baby, fuck-” your breath stutters. “Touch me, Jav, I- I need you,” you moan. 

“Shh, I’ve got you, mi amor.” Javi’s hand on your throat leaves you and coasts down your spine, his grip fixing itself on the globe of your ass. 

He reaches down with his thumb to gather some of your slick, dragging it up to your tight, more inexperienced hole. You gasp when you feel it, your ass bucking further into his touch. “Oh, my baby girl likes that? You like your ass being played with, cariño?” He taunts, hooking his thumb inside. “Want to me to fuck you there next time?”

“Fuck- yes- please,” you whimper, your pussy fluttering around him at his words. His other hand snakes to your front and reaches for your clit, drawing tight, calculated circles on you. “Oh, fuck-!” you yell out.

“That’s it, baby, fucking- dámelo, fucking soak me, querida” he forces out between his teeth. Your body twitches in his grasp, knuckles stark white against your dresser, eyes clamped shut as you cry out in the overwhelming pleasure consuming every inch of your body. “Fuck,” he groans, your sounds forcing his balls to pull taut. Javi’s fingers speed up along with his thrusts, hurtling you towards your long-awaited climax. 

It’s overstimulating, him fucking into you so harshly as every nerve ending in your body pops off like fireworks. Yet, you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, the way his pace stutters for barely a second, and you know he’s close. It’s overstimulating, yes, but you want, no, need him to continue, you need him to chase his own finish line—you need him to root himself so deep inside you, you’ll feel traces of him for months on end. 

“You’re close, I can feel it,” you gasp, building your own rhythm of your hips to help him along. “Need it, baby, need you inside of me,” you pant, your voice desperate. You pull yourself off the dresser and push your back into his chest, both his hands leaving your body to grip onto the darkwood, caging you in. 

“Yeah?” you feel his heavy breath fan across your cheek. “Tell me how fucking’ bad, querida, wanna hear it,” he says, voice strained.

You look back at him as best you can in this angle, your lips ghosting his jaw as the slick sounds of you grow louder. “Need you so bad even plan B can’t help us- God- please cum inside of me, Javier Peña, fucking give it to me,” you beg, your moans echoing the walls and rattling every fibre of his being, pushing his body into a state of pure ecstasy as he begins to empty himself into you. 

“Oh…fuck,” he grunts, his hips coming to a halt as he nearly wheezes through his orgasm. Once the sensitivity calms down, Javi pumps himself in and out of you a few more times for good measure, pushing his load deep inside of you. You can feel the way he slides in with a wet ease, and it makes butterflies in your belly erupt, a small gasp of a giggle, knowing that the soaked sensation isn’t because of solely your own product. 

“Fucking perfect,” he grumbles, slowly pulling himself out of you. He takes a small step back to get a look at your used cunt, puffy and glistening. His mouth literally waters. 

Javi drops to his knees, settling his broad palms on each of your ass cheeks to keep the view of you open for him. Slowly, he leans in, the flat of his tongue running over your delicate pearl through your cum-soaked folds, a mix of you and him blessing each taste bud on his tongue. He hears your breath hitch. 

He brings his tongue back in, collecting up the salty combination, before he’s on you again, mapping out the ring of your puckered muscle before he softly peppers the area in sweet kisses, your rear slightly irritated with his repeated slamming into you. 

He pulls himself away, giving you a moment to turn around; your back is to the dresser now. He places several kisses on your thighs, giving a few more kitten licks to your center before he’s rising to his feet and pulling you in for a deep yet gentle kiss. You can taste both you and him, and it makes your heart want to burst at the seams with warmth. 

“You okay?” He asks softly as his lips break away from yours. 

“Always with you,” you offer bashfully. 

“Good,” he says firmly, kissing the tip of your nose. You hear his hand smack the top of your dresser a few times. “I guess this thing is pretty fucking durable, huh?” 

“Mmmm, maybe. I think it needs to pass one more test,” you tell him. 

His eyebrow quirks up, you can see his mustache twitch, fighting his smirk. “And what test would that be, mi amor?” 

Taking a step back out of his hold, you back up into the dresser again, grabbing onto the ledge and you jump, spreading your legs wide open for him to fit in between. 

You can see the way his eyes flash impossibly darker. He stalks up to you again, his hands squeezing your thighs before he’s back on his knees, his head immediately burying himself in your core. 

Oh, yeah, this dresser passes the test, alright. 

Tagging those who showed interest when I posted the WIP !! @honeyedmiller , @punkshort , @joels-shitty-puns , @bearsbeetsbeskar , @janaispunk , @starry-eyes-love

If you enjoyed this, come check out my masterlist for more or follow my notifs blog @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to get updated on when I post new stories! Much love💚

@pedrostories

[toxicanonymity]

Hi fren.

I looooove your writing. It’s like the perfect blend of horny, horror, and hilarity. It really speaks to my debauched soul.

I had a thot. How do you think RaiderJoel would react if Sweet Pea mustered up the courage to nibble (ok, bite) him? You know how in the first ep of TLOU when Joel gets the call from Tommy that he’s in jail? And Joel leans back on the couch and rubs his eyes in frustration? There’s a shot of his tricep that looks so tender and I just wanna chomp it.

Let’s say he’s got Sweet Pea caged in and she just turns and grazes her teeth on his arm. Would he be mad? Or would he just completely lose his shit and immediately cum like a volcano?

Anyway. Thank you for your brain!

xoxo

biting raider joel's arm.

700 words, raider!joel x f!reader | raider master A/N: Thank you for your kind words anon. xoxo WARNINGS: I8+ Biting, non-penetrative somnophilia, dubcon (long term stockholm syndrome) p in v, manual restraint,  a little rough, premature ejaculation, f masturbation using Joel’s big meaty thigh, unedited. 

In your sleep, you turn over to face him. He reflexively cages you in with an arm and leg over you. In the early morning, you wake up first and lie there enjoying the closeness. His arm twitches, then he adjusts his position. His scent wafts from his exposed armpit and it stirs something in your belly.  Your hips press forward on their own and his arousal twitches against you, leaving a drop of wetness that makes you salivate. You've got to do something with your mouth.

His breath stutters and both arms tense for a split-second.  They're so strong and thick. The bicep over your cheek flexes. You open your mouth, turn your head toward his arm, and let your teeth graze his skin. You lightly press your lips into his skin, mouth still open. Then you can't help but gently bite down. You’ve barely pressed your teeth into him when his arm jerks up and away.  For a moment, his bicep comes down heavily on your throat, making you cough.  You try to turn your head back toward him and whisper, "sorry."

He abruptly rotates toward you, his body pushing yours onto your back. He pins you to the bed with his weight. His arousal is pressing right between your legs. He grabs one wrist, then the other, and pins your hands above your head, held with one hand.  He brings his mouth to your bicep, opens wide, and bites down. He bites harder than you did, but not hard enough to be unpleasant. The ache feels passionate, like he needs you. His tongue grazes your skin then he seals his lips and sucks before releasing your arm. The air cools his spit on your skin. His cock throbs against your thighs and mound. You whimper under his heaving chest.  

"Hmm?" He asks rhetorically before moving his mouth to your neck and repeating the action. The hand above your head grips your wrists harder as he sucks. While he's latched onto your neck, his hips beginning to move, grinding himself against you.  His cock nudges its way between your thighs and slides wetly against your folds.

You tilt your hips for him and catch the head of his cock. He pushes the tip inside, then sheathes himself entirely, like he can’t hold back. He whispers, “fuck,” as he bottoms out. The sudden stretch faintly burns despite your arousal, then your body is quick to catch up. While he's all the way in you, his cock throbs like a warning. He withdraws some, then slams into you again, holding you in place with his hand pinning your wrists.  He grunts under his breath as he pounds you. Your breasts bounce with the impact of each thrust.

It feels like less than a minute before he grunts and mutters, "oh god, fu--ohh," and his cock erupts violently. He sighs and releases burst after burst, truly filling you up, with some of it seeping down his cock as it slowly moves. He stays inside for only a minute and your walls twitch around him, but you don't quite get there. He lets his length slide out before releasing your wrists and settling in stomach-down, half on top of you. His dick rests against your hip, wet with your combined mess.  He drapes his arm over you and nestles a leg between yours. He falls back asleep just as quickly as he came.

You experimentally lift your hips for friction against the heavy thigh between your legs, and he keeps snoring. You squeeze your thighs together and subtly grind yourself on him, then your body jerks and you stifle a moan. You manage to keep mostly still through your waves of pleasure, then fall asleep.

Once the sun has risen, Joel stirs and it wakes you up.  When he rolls off you he sees your arm and finds his body sticking to yours.  He looks confused for a moment. He studies your arm and brushes the bruise with his thumb. It feels like an apology.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you reassure him. “Sorry I woke you up.”

His brow furrows and his eyes search your face for something. "Hm," he ponders. "'s'okay, sweet pea."  He leaves it at that. 

-------

Thank you for reading <3 I saved some more meaningful arm love for the real story.

[manjibunny]

"I JUST WANNA SEE YOU SHINE 'CAUSE I KNOW YOU ARE A ✶STARGIRL ✶"

★SYNOPSIS★: Being the good wife that you are, you decided to treat your husband to breakfast in bed. Takashi being a good husband, decides he'd much rather indulge in you ★

★C/W★: fem! reader, sub! reader, dom! Mitsuya, ptv, nipple play, unprotected sex (stay safe yall), fingering, mentions of food, petnames used (baby, my love, my girl), Mitsuya really said "My kink is true love", good ol' kitchen sex

★W/C★: 1,8k+

★A/N★: I got inspired by "Stargirl Interlude" by the Weeknd and Lana del Rey, so I had to write my thots down for @rinterlude The Weekndcollab 💜 Special thx to @avatarofstars for listening to me ramble about this fic at 2 am <333

Streaks of light shone through the blinds, kissing you awake from your peaceful slumber. Upon opening your eyes, you’re blessed by the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. Taking a moment to admire his beauty, you thanked every God that you’ve had the pleasure of meeting, falling in love with, and marrying Mitsuya Takashi. Life is wonderful right now, you thought to yourself. 

You stood up from your comfy bed, making sure not to wake Takashi up. He is always so busy, you thought to yourself. Always waking up early, always going to bed late. He deserves to rest a little more. 

Tiptoeing out of your shared bedroom, you made your way to the kitchen. You wanted to surprise your husband with breakfast in bed. You hummed to yourself as you got all the ingredients to make pancakes. Getting ready to start making the batter, a set of strong arms wrap around your frame, pulling you against a warm body. You let out a surprised gasp, not expecting Takashi to wake up so early. 

“Good morning baby” you giggled. “Wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but of course you had to ruin it” You teased your husband, feeling heat creep up your face as you felt his face buried into your neck. 

“Good morning my love. Was hoping to wake up next to my beautiful wife. Imagine my surprise when I found the bed cold and empty without you in it” He mumbled teasingly, his husky morning voice making you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Yeah? Well, I would have been quick, you know?” You teased back. Takashi chuckled, letting his hands roam your body. Takashis hands lightly gripped your hips, 

“Not fast enough for me, my dear” He mused, gently nibbling your earlobe. Heat crept up your face as Takashi gently bit down on your earlobe, earning a light moan from you. He always knew how to get a reaction out of you. As his lips pressed yearning kisses on your sensitive neck, Takashi’s hand slowly crept under your, well, his shirt, fingers caressing your skin. 

“You know, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed” You breathed out, drunk of Takashi's gentle touches. He always managed to make you feel so incredibly hot and bothered without trying hard. It was natural for the both of you, your body reacted to him, and his body reacted to you. A gasp left your lips as you felt something hard poke your lower back. 

“I’d rather have you” He breathed out, lips attacking your neck as his hips grinded against your ass, his fingers traveling along your torso, sending a chill down your spine  “Can I please have you? My love?” You eagerly nodded, biting your lower lip to prevent moans from slipping out of your mouth. No matter how many times Takashi touched you - and he touched you plenty of times - you still felt so shy to show him how much you wanted him. 

“Love” He stopped kissing you “I need to hear it. Can I have you?” His tone was gentle, he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Forcing himself onto you or making you feel that you were obligated to do anything with him, so having you verbally confirm your wants and needs was routine for him. Besides that, Takashi loves hearing your needy whines for more.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, the coil in your stomach grew tighter as Takashi pleaded with his hoarse morning voice for a signal to to remove your clothes. The want for him outgrew your shyness, and you whimpered “Yes, please have me”

A satisfied grin spread across Takashi’s face. His hands swiftly traveled up your body, lightly kneading your breasts. His lips soon found their way back to your neck, gently nibbling on your tender skin. Passion ignited inside you, your love and lust for your husband overwhelmed your senses. Your moans got louder and louder as Takashi continued to touch your body. You couldn’t feel any shame anymore, not when Takashi pinched and rolled your nipples between his fingers. 

“Please, want more” you whined, the throb between your legs becoming unbearable for you. That was all Takashi needed to hear to move one of his hands lower, hooking his fingers on the waistband of your panties and pulling them lower. You slightly spread your legs to give him better access, at which Takashi chuckled. 

“My my, you are so eager, aren’t you?” He teased. You were about to retort back with a witty remark, until his index finger gently rubbed your clit. A sinful moan escaped your lips as Takashi teased your clit with one hand, while the other was preoccupied with your nipple. 

“Ah, music to my ears” Takashi mused, biting your earshell. 

Takashi is a very skilled man, he always knew how to please his woman. He rubbed tight circles on your sensitive bundles of nerves, making you feel desperate for his dick. His fingers haven't even been inside your greedy hole, yet he was able to tell that you were soaking wet when he felt your slick dripped out your hole, coating your panties and his fingers with your essence. The sounds you made as he played with your clit were beyond pornographic for Takashi, his dick was leaking precum just by your erotic mewls. 

You on the other hand felt like you were on cloud nine. Feeling so sensitive, you swore you could cum just by Takashi circling his fingers on your clit, but you knew that you wouldn’t be satisfied until you felt his pulsing dick inside you.  

Feeling as if he teased your poor little clit enough, Takashi dipped his index finger inside your pussy. Your needy cunt welcomed his finger greedily, sucking it inside and clinging to it for dear life as he pumped - or rather, attempted - to pump his finger in and out. Soon, he added a second finger, and after that a third finger. Finding your sweet sweet g-spot wasn’t hard for your husband, after all it wasn’t the first time his fingers were knuckles deep inside your cunt. 

He curled his fingers, making sure to hit your g-spot repeatedly. You were seeing stars at this point, chanting his name as if it were a gospel. The coil in your stomach grew tighter, before eventually snapping.

“Fuck, Baby!” You cried out as you climaxed on his fingers, coating them with your juices. Takashi helped you ride out your orgasm before pulling his fingers out of your pussy. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, tasting your release. 

“So fucking sweet” He hummed pleased “You did such a good job, baby”

But you weren’t satisfied quite yet. You haven’t even properly come down from your high, but you still wanted more of Takashi.

“Baby, want your dick inside. Please” You begged, already salivating at the thought of your pussy getting stretched out by his cock and filled with his cum. 

Takashi groaned at your plea. Truth be told he was barely able to contain himself,  he just wanted to sink his painfully hard cock sink inside your dripping pussy and feel your spongy walls clench around him. He quickly retreated his hand from your hardened bud and pulled his underwear down. With an angry red tip, his long, thick cock springed free from Takashi’s boxers. 

“Your wish is my command, my love” Takashi grunted into your ear as he aligned his throbbing cock to your cunt. Tears welled up in your eyes as his tip split you apart, the pain adding to your pleasure. 

He barely fit inside, no matter the amount of prep Takashi would do to loosen you up, he would always have to slowly and carefully push between your ever so tight walls, trying to contain himself from cumming on the spot. After all, your pleasure always comes first. He pushed his dick deeper inside you, kissing your neck once he was fully inside you. 

“Good job, love. Always taking me so well” He huskily whispered into your ear, waiting for your signal to move. You were panting hard from feeling him inside of you. Your knees were jittery and your breath was hard, so you tried to calm yourself down. He wouldn’t move otherwise. He needed to know that you were able to take him. 

Takashi lovingly wiped your tears as your breath steadied. “You’re doing so well. My big, strong girl can handle her man” He gently kissed your cheek. 

“But you know, we can also stop-”

“No, I want you. I need you” You stated firmly. “Please move. I’m ready”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Takashi set a slow pace, trying to not overwhelm you. Still, his dick hit all the right places. A choked moan escaped your lips as you felt him grind his hips against your ass. A mixture of slapping sounds, your high pitched moans and Takashi’s low groans echoed through your kitchen as Takashi made love to you. 

His chest was pressed against your back, and you were able to feel his heartbeat thumping loudly against his ribcage. You felt strangely relaxed feeling his heart beating so quickly as his thick cock parted your gummy walls. You never doubted that Takashi loved you, but realizing that he wanted you as badly as you wanted him made tugged on your heart. 

“Taka, I love you so much” You mewled, feeling yourself getting close again. Gripping the kitchen counter, you arched your back, feeling overwhelmed by all the stimuli you were feeling. Takashi’s hands lightly gripped your hips, careful to not hurt you or leave any marks on your skin. 

“I love you too” Takashi groaned “So, so, so much. Can’t live without you”

Your walls tighten around his dick as you heard his words. Takashi’s thrusts became more sloppy, you and him were both so close. He kissed your cheek gently, his hand soon finding yours and intertwining his fingers with yours. Moving your head to the side, you met his lips with yours. 

“Cum with me baby. Cum for me, my love” Takashi grunted, so close to spilling inside you. Getting the confirmation you needed, you finally released. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you sobbed out Takashi’s name. Takashi soon followed suit. He kissed your lips, effectively muffling his moans as he came inside you. 

Once both of you came down from the high, Takashi cupped your face before kissing you tenderly. 

“Are you ok, baby?” 

You hummed in response “Never felt better in my entire life” Takashi chuckled, peppering your face with small kisses before eventually landing on your lips again. 

“I’m glad” He exclaimed “Now go to bed. I can feel your legs shaking, "he teased.

“Let me make you breakfast in bed, ok, baby? My girl deserves is after being able to take me so well”

Oh indeed, life was great.

[sebsxphia]

Early, early morning sex with Bob. The sun has yet to rise and the room is still black and blue. You wake him up with kisses on his neck, and he lazily worships your body. He mutters inaudible sweet nothings along your skin. Riding him is slow and easy, until he turns you over and presses you into the mattress, cumming inside you.

oh my goodness my dear anon, this just sounds like an absolute dreammmm does it not?? 🥹🥹

it starts off soft and slow. both of you still laced in sleep, even though you were the one to wake first. the sweet nothings are murmured with his southern accent making more of an appearance in the early throws of the morning. bob manages to fumble for his glasses on the bedside table. even though it’s still dark outside, bob wants to see all of you that’s illuminated in the soon to set moonlight.

his hands are placed firmly and steadily on your hips as you ride him. your head is thrown back enjoying the pleasure it brings you while your body is still relaxed from the sleep. bob’s gaze is fixed on your figure moving in the moonlight and it’s driving him wild. he lets out little grunts at the sight of your breasts moving up and down every once in a while as you ride him slowly.

it’s enough for him.

he needs you and he needs you now.

he shifts upwards and latches onto your nipple. the sudden sensation jolts you awake and you let out a cry followed by his name. he tugs on them both a couple of times before releasing you from his cock altogether. you let out a whine in protest and bob shushes you in response.

“shh, my love. let me take care of you, i’ll make you feel good, darlin’.”

bob is quick to grab a pillow and place it underneath your belly. in one swift movement, he presses the small of your back down into the pillow and subsequently the mattress. his other hand pulls at your hips to meet him again and he bottoms out in you with ease. he curses your name as he feels you clench around him at the new found angle.

“feels good doesn’t it, sweetheart?” you whimper and nod your head against the mattress in response. “that’s my love. i’ll fill you up pretty girl.”

neksndjwndjene please my turn when!! thank you so much for this incredible thot my dear anon!! i could kiss you, mwah!! 💌🥹💖

[sin-djarin]

steep is the mountain

Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader

Rating: Explicit. MDNI. This blog and its contents are 18+.

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Tim comes home.

Warnings: Established relationship, oral sex (f! receiving), Tim Rockford's gun holsters, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n.

A/N: Consider this part of the coming home series that wasn't meant to be a series...like most of my one shots. A massive thank you to @for-a-longlongtime for betaing this for me and for suffering listening to my thots about this guy. Amazing what a whole 48 seconds can do right? Inspo taken from here, but the fic contains NO physical descriptions of reader.

Joel and Dieter come home below:

not in rivers, but in drops ¦¦ in fiction

You pad barefoot down the mahogany staircase, the sound of it barely disrupting the eerie quiet in the house that blankets everything at this late hour. All the downstairs lights are off, except for one that you know you didn’t leave on: the lamp in the corner of the living room. Its glare throws tall shadows on the walls and muting the usual bright colours, and it takes you a moment to blink the sleep out of your eyes before his image comes into sharp focus, his broad body resting comfortably in the plush cream armchair. 

“Tim.”

It takes a second but then he looks up, lowering the newspaper he’s been reading, then smiles as you stride over to him. His small space in that corner of the living room has become a sanctuary of sorts, a place of solace after long shifts at the police station – his own manmade haven for introspection and contemplation.

What started off with a book or two has gradually grown into his own mountainous library of hardbacks during the time you’ve been together, a place where he can swap his reality for someone else’s fiction. And not burden you with his own before coming to bed.

“Sorry, wasn’t tired yet” he looks up as you sit on the edge of the chair, telling you a half truth.

With his tie already off and thrown over the edge table beside him, it’s the local newspaper catches your eye. He brought it in off the porch on Monday and left it sitting on the kitchen table. It’s the one that printed his picture next to the feature that details an especially tricky case, something he’s allowing himself to read only now after four days have passed.

You peeked at it when he left for work. The journalist chose to use words like sloppy and careless. They’re abrasive words - critical, with potential for lasting damage but could never taint your own picture of Tim. Unlike the sheets and its smudging ink, his hard work is seldom black and white. 

“Something on your mind?” you pry. 

Tim pushes his head back into the cushion behind his head and lets out a small sigh.

“No” he assures you after a brief pause, a soft smile playing over his face. The paper slides to the floor as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently into his lap to face him. The position makes for easy access to wherever his hands wish to roam over your thighs and hips. 

He is tired. Tim has always been a notoriously bad sleeper, but also a glutton for punishment when he stays up until the early hours of the morning, only allowing himself a few hours of quality sleep. 

This week has been no different, the tell-tale signs of a difficult case splayed out all over his disrupted routine; the short nights, him leaving the house before sunrise and returning to that same darkness late at night.

Shared dinners at the dining table with real conversation are abandoned for leftovers he’ll graze at in the small hours, or the reluctant text he fires off letting you know he’s already eaten at the office. He’ll be able to get more rest once this case is closed, whenever that time may come. 

The unpredictable nature of his cases mean that you nourish yourselves with fleeting moments like this. The movements of your own fingertips try to will away his tension, compliments the tranquil feeling of his body that’s warm and solid underneath you. 

You take the glasses from the bridge of his nose and set them on a small pile of books beside the chair. Your gaze falls from his eyes down to his plump lips, unconsciously making you shift - squirm - in his lap. He hums, pursed lips softening into a smile as his right hand moves to the small of your back, the other one still resting on your hip, both keeping you close against him.

His glance also dips for a moment, down to the worn oversize t-shirt you put on before getting into bed without him. He watches, almost pridefully, that the both of you fit so well together. 

You reach out to touch his brawny forearms, golden skin exposed thanks to the rolled up sleeves of his shirt that are cuffed tightly against the muscles. He carries his stresses there, so your thumbs work the knots that have localized themselves between the tough muscles - the ones that helped him ball his fists up in frustration at his desk.

His jaw slackens as you rub over a large one, just below the hinge of his elbow, and you slowly stroke away the tautness, walking a fine line between pleasure and pain. A deep, appreciative breath escapes from deep within him, the exhale momentarily making the buttons strain down the center of his rigid chest. 

“Did you wait up?” he asks, both hands settling at the base of your spine now, and you drape your arms around his shoulders. 

“I fell asleep for a while,” you tell him as he continues to study you, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What?”

Soft palms continue their exploration up your back, until the cool metal of his watch stings your skin, making you involuntarily arch yourself into him until you’re pressed together, chest to chest, your nipples straining under the thinning material of your top as they rub against his pecs. He leans further into you, soft lips meeting the tender skin of your neck to pepper it with light kisses. 

“What did you do tonight?” he wonders, mumbling the words into your skin, the heat of his breath instantly banishing any traces of the goosebumps that threaten to appear from the cool scrape of his watch.

“Self-care,” you answer.

Tim doesn’t need any further clarification; he knows what you mean. His eyebrow arches upwards, interest piqued by the thought of what that meant as his mind conjures up vivid imagery.

A self-care night meant a bath and treating yourself to the luxurious almond body scrub he buys you for your birthday and for Christmas.

Usually, you’d leave him downstairs, engrossed in the pages of one of his books, and by the time he’s closed the cover, you’ve slipped on a pair of your favourite underwear and crawled under the sheets to wait patiently.

Your ear has become tuned to listen out for his footsteps leaving his chair, the bump of his holsters being placed on the table in the hallway, followed by steps getting louder as he climbs the wooden staircase. 

The part you can’t hear is what fascinates you and makes you imagine it every single time: him unbuttoning his white shirt on his way up the stairs, his thick fingers surprisingly quick and efficient.  

On those nights, when he appears around the door, he’s just undone the last button of his white shirt and pulling out the tails of it from his slacks. There will be a glimmer in his eye when he sees you look as good as you feel - the simple act of wearing underwear is for you, not in service of him, though you love the reaction you get from him. 

He'll continue to undress, peeling off his white undershirt, treating you to a view of his strong back and shoulders, admiring how the muscles in his arms flex as he pulls it off with a sigh of relief. The same as when he pushes his slacks down his legs, as you pull your focus to his lower body, over his firm thighs and calves and the coarse hair that will tickle once he’s inevitably nestled alongside you. 

He’ll mold his body around yours, tuck you under his bearded chin and breathe a sigh of ease that regardless of everything, you’re the only piece of the puzzle he’s managed to make fit all day - his self-care. 

“What else?”

His voice pulls you back into the dim room, continuing his gentle inquiries about what you did in his absence. By now he’s swapped kisses for nips of his teeth that he immediately soothes afterwards with his tongue. The prickly graze of his moustache sends a shock of heat to your core and your pulse quickens against his lips.

“I…cooked dinner.”

Coherent thoughts begin to illude you. Speaking in full sentences is made evermore difficult with him clutched against you, marking you with small bites. 

Your fingers weave themselves into the curls that spill over the back of his collar, slowly twisting further into his dark textured hair. As an almost immediate response, his cock stiffens under your leg, still confined to the black  polyester of his slacks, but is now crying out for freedom.

He shifts his pelvis slightly forward to give you something to grind against, knowing that you too are in need. You try not to whimper by the feel of it, by the clear invitation he’s extending to you, and as you press your core against him, there’s no denying the increasing heat between your legs. 

His fingertips move from your back to the top of your thighs, caressing your freshly pampered skin, by the distant look in his eyes you can tell he’s probably lost himself to the idea of you rubbing the scrub on yourself. His thumbs seek out and run over the lace waistband of your underwear while he continues to ravish your neck, and you sigh as you tip your head back, granting him further access. 

“What did you make?” he hums into the column of your throat and his words reverberate down to your pussy, making you clench around nothing.

“I left you a plate.”

“I didn’t eat,” he rasps, and the roguish timbre of his voice collides with his smell leaves feeling hypnotic.

It’s late and you crave more sleep. But the sandalwood scent of his cologne, the same one you watched him dab on his cheeks and around the nape of his neck at six in the morning and the earthy smell of his leather holsters hits your nose.

It combines with the bitter undertone of the coffee that you can always taste or smell on him - it’s all too tempting. The rising heat that’s radiating from him, and the smell of his body stirs something inside you that only wants more from him, now, and any other time.

You tug on his curls and pull his head back, meeting his lips with yours for a kiss, and he moans with pleasure. He wastes no time in slipping his tongue into your mouth as he kisses you urgently, forcing you to drag your nails over his scalp.

Frantic and fiery, it’s far removed from the chaste kiss he said goodbye to you with this morning. Any semblance of the fatigue you picked up on moments ago is now replaced by pure desire. Your hands move down to grip around the holsters that clad his shoulders, hauling him closer against you. You continue to writhe in his lap, desperately chasing any friction his hips are offering. 

Breathlessly, he breaks the kiss, failing to disguise a tiny whimper.

“Stand up.”

You push yourself off him from his shoulders and stand between his legs that are spread wide. The angle of the lamp casts a delicate glow around his broad frame. It’s captivating - you know he’s handsome, but this light highlights the features you've come to love.

Tim bends forward, raking his eyes over your body, and you reach for his hand to pull him up too – another clue, a plea for him to come and join you in bed. But he wilfully ignores it and plants his weight down in refusal before gently shaking your grip loose. He uses his free hand to tug down the underwear from your waist, his swollen lips parting as he watches them fall down around your ankles, a flash of his inviting tongue visible as his eyes narrow in appreciation.

He tilts his head, dark brown eyes darting back to yours. You’ve seen this expression on his face before – a boldness wrapped in a sly charm. A grin starts to spread across his face from one side to the other, punctuated with the dimple in his stubbled cheek. The same one that made the person on the other side of the interrogation table crumble, knowing there’s no escape, in the same manner that it makes you relent – I have you now.

He leans back into the chair, sinking back into the cushions. With two fingers he beckons you towards him and offers you a hand to help you crawl back onto him.

You spread your thighs across his waist again, but his deft palms stop you from applying any real pressure where you sat previously. Instead, he taps the arms of the chair expectantly, then runs his hands from your hips to your knees. 

For a moment you hesitate, unsure as to what exactly he has in mind, but when he signals for you to put a knee on either side of the armchair, you move along with him, holding onto his shoulders for a moment of support. A contented hum leaves his lips, hands brushing up the back of your thighs, guiding you further up his torso until the heat of his mouth is only inches from your now bare pussy. 

“There you go” he soothes. 

The first contact of his wet tongue makes your hips buck involuntarily, and you close your eyes as you try to steady yourself, taking a deep breath. Your fingers clutch at the cushion to steady yourself, and he parts your folds with the flat of his tongue with one painstakingly slow, broad stroke. He repeats the motion again, making your head fall forward as he savours the taste of you pooling into his mouth. Before your eyes clamp themselves shut, you catch his gaze from underneath you - his eyes almost black from his pupils dilating.

He’s meticulous in his movements, making sure that you experience every swipe of his tongue across your clit and every suck as his lips close around it. It’s almost too much when he focuses on your clit - you try to raise yourself off him, to pull away, but his fingers dig deep into the meat of your thighs, holding you in place against his mouth.

Tim is laser focused underneath you, listening for the change of pitch in the moans that tumble from your lips. His hands are occupied, carefully detecting every twitch of the muscles in your legs, as he experiments with varying pressures and laps as you kneel above him. He makes sure he’s getting you where you want to be but evidently enjoying the journey he’s set you both on. 

He pursues it relentlessly. The silence that fell upon the living room earlier is well and truly gone, replaced by the sound of your breath hitching and his own gravelly grunts that vibrate up through you, fanning the flames of the fire that’s building in the pit of your belly.

Before you know it he’s got you on the brink, pushing you ever closer to the edge. He’s stealing your moans for his own pleasure, like confessions he’s tried to force out of people all day, knowing that now, he’ll get what he wants.

A hand leaves your thigh, and two thick digits enter you, hooking them towards your front wall. The delicious stretch and fullness make you lose any remaining composure. Your own fingers coil into the curls at the crown of his head, tugging at the short strands in time to the rhythmic strokes of his fingers.

The practiced combination of his fingers and mouth spark tiny fires throughout all your nerve endings, the heat of them burning your cheeks and begging for the oxygen that your lungs are starved of.

“Give in, love” he purrs, the rich resonance of his words against your flesh so breathtaking that it’s a battle to illicit a cry from your dry throat. 

His command makes it that easy. With one final swirl of his tongue, your walls begin to spasm around his fingers and your heartbeat is hammering against your eardrums as a white heat engulfs your entire body. He holds his tongue flat so you can rock against it to ride out your orgasm for as long as you can, his hands holding onto you for support, making sure you won’t fall and can just enjoy the rush of it coursing through your veins. 

You stay still for a moment, revelling in what he gave you before you slump back down, weary legs struggling to keep your legs spread wide enough to keep yourself perched atop the upholstered armrests. He senses it and wraps his arms around your thighs, easily pulling you back into his lap and to be cradled against him once more. He marvels at you through heavy eyelids, while you try to calm your heart rate that’s still pounding against your ribcage and supply your lungs with oxygen again. 

Resisting him is not an easy feat. The image of your slick glistening on the wiry hairs of his chin stares back at you. His own chest heaves, mirroring your own. Strands of salt and pepper hair stick to his temples, the rest of it awry where you'd anchored yourself. And he’s still painfully hard underneath you. 

Your shaky fingers fumble in and around the silver buckle of his belt, eager to make him feel as good as he made you feel. But before you can pull it free from its first loop, one of his large clammy hands is enough to put an end to the uncoordinated efforts of both of yours. 

He cups your chin with the other hand, tilting your head slightly so you can look at him. Both of you, now nothing more than racing hearts and vacant minds. He pulls his lips back into his mouth to savouring the sweetness you left him before he speaks.   

“It’s okay. I’ll be home early tomorrow,” he tells you, his voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

(When he knows how to sit in a chair)

[themysticssdream]

• sweet like honey •

Tommy Miller x f!Reader Rating: Mature (18+) (MINORS DNI) Summary: You're engrossed in the book in front of you that you hardly noticed Tommy walking into your home. He takes matter into his own hands to get your attention. Content Warning: SMUT, established relationship, post-outbreak, adult content, oral (f receiving), fingering, sweet and spicy, no plot just thots, not edited/proof-read Links - AO3 A/N: I can see @ay0nha side-eyeing me so hard right now as I'm posting this. 🤣 I told myself... *sighs* I told myself over and over to not post any smut that doesn't have a plot included, but I woke up this morning and my mind chose violence so here it is. But as always, thank you to @ay0nha for always helping me and giving advice with my fics. You deserve all the Tommy loving. I also wrote this before I had to get ready for work so it's a bit rushed. Remember to like, reblog and comment if you can! 🌿💫

It was captivating. The adventures that you were following along with the protagonist had you on the edge of the couch, and you had lost count on how many pages you've read this evening.

Your eyes followed your finger as it brushed along the grey ink. Some of the words were clear as the blue sky, others you had to squint or make up your own words, the water-stained pages fading away the ink.

There were books in Jackson. A small library between the butcher shop and the bakery was your sanctuary after a hard day's work at the nursery. You blamed your sudden allergies on the flowers blooming inside the large greenhouse you worked in, and Tommy had his own suspicions. That library is a gold mine of dust, sweetie pie. He mentioned one day while your nose was strawberry red from rubbing it so much. Yet, you still went and persevered the day despite your allergies not improving.

And then Tommy started to bring books home from his scheduled patrols. It didn't matter the subject - historical romances that would take you to places of cities made out of marble and large golden statues of Gods in Ancient Greece; Jungles of Mexico, pyramids made of stone that reached so high that it would reach the sun, to stories following a couple committing a series of heists in a futuristic setting of the 1950's.

He would find them in the nearby abandoned towns, bringing them back to you so that the pages, once loved and read from more than twenty years ago would now be under the care of the gentle hold of your hands and the sturdy bookshelf that Tommy had made for you.

Then your allergies improved. You haven't stepped foot into that library since you started your own, darlin'. His smile was hidden behind a cup as he had his morning coffee. I told ya so.

He noticed how you started to pile up the books in the corner of your room by a large potted plant. Tommy did not hesitate to build you a bookshelf with the left over wood from the lumber yard, and the two of you watched your collection fill up the tight spaces between the thick wood.

One day while you were working a shift, Tommy looked over his work and your books while finishing up his dark roasted coffee, and he could not help but smile. Not only did his shelving hold your books, but it had little touches of you - the small pearl earrings he gifted you for your birthday sat beside the planter he had made you for the succulent you were trying to revive from the nursery. His fingers carefully brushed over the edge of the polaroid picture of the two of you Ellie took a few months back from celebrating Tommy's birthday.

Heavy footsteps stirred you away from your book, but it wasn't enough to draw you completely away from the adventure in your hands. The feeling of soft lips along with the familiar scratchiness of his mustache pressed on your forehead. "Did you eat, sweetie pie?"

"Hmm." You responded after reading a sentence. No. You hadn't eaten since you made breakfast for you and Tommy early in the morning, and you barely noticed your stomach growling at the mention of it.

Tommy chuckles, wiping away the strands of hair away from your face. "Is that a yes or a no?"

You turned a page and continued to read. "Mm-hmm."

He didn't respond, yet his footsteps trailed away from you to what you guessed was the kitchen as you started to hear the clinging of pots and pans. Your eyes darted at the clock on the wall, and you made a quick mental note that Tommy was home earlier than usual.

At this time, you usually started to prepare dinner and have it ready for when Tommy came home, but you let your body slouch further into the couch as you continued to get lost into the pages in front of you.

You weren't sure how long time had passed - between the silence that grew in the kitchen and the countless pages being turned - you felt one of Tommy's hands, rough from a hard day of working, caressing up your leg until it settled on the outside of your thigh. You couldn't see him as the book between the two of you covered his next move, which caused a swirl of excitement start to build in your belly.

Tommy placed a kiss on the inside of your knee, his hands slowly prying your legs apart for him to find his place between you. He smirked to himself when he realizes you were wearing underwear and one of his buttons up shirts - and nothing else. His lips trailed down from your knee to the inside of your thigh when he catches the scent of your body wash, and he stops.

You usually used a natural scented wash, sometimes alternating between coconut or something that would resemble the sea. He couldn't place the new scent, something between lavender or roses. No matter what it was, he liked how not only it smelled on you, but how sweet you tasted.

Your fingers dug into the paperback when he licked at the crease of your thigh, and Tommy could feel the slight rough texture of the lace that lined your panties on the tip of his tongue.

He brought his hand to the lowest button of his shirt on you and fumbled to get it open. He spreads the flannel like fabric away to reveal your soft belly and he slightly crawls upwards to press kisses underneath your belly button. He creates a slow trail, moving further down as the rough texture of his facial hair scratches at your skin until you could feel the hot breath of him pant at the space between your legs.

This was something Tommy occasionally did to you when your attention was on the story before you rather than him. The first few times you wouldn't last long, leaving your book abandoned at the side of you on your bed or it fell from your hands and onto the floor when he would burrow his face between your legs, lapping you up until your orgasm came to you in hard waves. Each time you improved, lasting longer than before and you wondered how well you would do this time.

Concentrate. You told yourself, bringing the book closer up to settle on your chest.

You bite your bottom lip and close your eyes for a moment at the feeling of his mouth pressing against the thin fabric of your panties, his tongue sweeping hard over your covered folds. When he starts to slowly swirl one of his digits against your bundle of nerves, which you guessed was his thumb, you could feel the dampness from his mouth left behind on your panties that creates a sweet friction in which you bit back a moan.

Don't give in to him. Not just yet.

In one swift motion, Tommy hooks his thumbs on the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your smooth legs and discards the abandoned fabric at the corner of the couch. He wasted no time diving back towards you, giving one long lick from your opening before his mouth gently enclosed and sucked at your clit. He blindly raises one of your legs to rest the back of your knee against his shoulder, while his free hand presses against the underside of your thigh to keep you open for him.

Your chest rose slowly along with your steady breathing. It was becoming clear that this was going to be difficult. The protagonist of your book had arrived at a cave, but you didn't remember how and when they got there. The words were starting to blur behind the glossy haze when your eyes began to slowly roll back while Tommy slowly and gently circled the flat of his tongue against your clit.

You flipped back a page, going to where you had last paid attention of your book and found how they had approached the opening of the cave that would hopefully lead to the hidden chamber where the lost treasure would be - and your hand dug into the pages, quieting your moan when you brought your fingers to your lips as Tommy sucked hard at your bundle of nerves. He dipped lower, the tip of his tongue licking up the arousal that pooled at the opening of your pussy and he hummed in approval.

A low whimper escapes you when you feel him move away from you, biting at the flesh of your inner thigh, savoring the lingering taste of you on his lips. "Sweet like honey." His voice is deep and laced with want for you, and you could almost feel his words vibrate against you. It seeps deep into your veins that you start to feel the pressure of your arousal start to build in your belly.

His tongue slips inside of you over and over, drinking and eating you up while his thumb circles over your clit. Tommy cannot help but roll his hips once into the couch, feeling the swell of him under his jeans become tight and restricted.

The book falls forward on your chest, one hand slipping into his tight dark curls while the other reaches back to grip the curve of the arm of the couch. He isn't hidden behind your book anymore, his eyes closed, and brows pushed together softly in concentration as he works on you, the tip of his nose brushing against the soft thatch of hair in between your legs. "Tommy," his name falls easily from your lips, and you can feel him smiling against your folds.

He knew he won. He always did.

While your hips roll gently upward, your fingers tug hard at the back of his head to keep him in place. His tongue slides out of your pussy and catches his breath for a moment or two before latching his mouth over your clit; the rough texture of his mustache scratches at your sensitive folds and you know you'll feel the lingering feel of it later. The hand that once gripped the arm of the chair now takes hold of the book that was left at your chest and is now abandoned on the floor beside Tommy's knee.

"Please Tommy," your breathing hitches. Your toes and fingers curl when the build up in your belly expands. His hands move to grip at your hips now, lifting and pulling you closer to him. "You're gonna make me come."

Mm-hmm. He hums against you. He does not quicken the pace of his tongue, but he rubs two fingers against your opening to lather your slick over the digits before sliding in. The pads of his fingers gently press up into the spongey texture of your walls, and he feels you clench around the base of his thick fingers.

"Yes… yes," You moan out, and your face twists in bliss when your orgasm hits you quicker than you realize. Tommy continues to work on you as you flutter hard around him and his tongue swipes slower over your now over-sensitive clit. "Tommy!"

He gives you one last lick before slipping his fingers out of your drenched pussy and he's crawling over you, delicately and chastely kissing your cheek. He watches you as you come down from your high, the redness on your cheeks fading away to your natural skin color and your breathing comes back to normal.

"Now that I got your attention," Tommy smirks down at you. "You hungry, darlin'?"

thank you for reading! // tommy miller tag list - @ay0nha @ethereal-macleod @quinnverses @tsunchani @tinkerwin @grooveandshit

[gingerjolover]

Pet Names - KG (Muna)

everyone say thank you @whore4munagenius 🙇🏻‍♀️🙏🏻

also canonically thinking of soft!gf i cant stop myself we are one

All of Muna uses baby/babe/honey so those aren't included that's just canon i said what i said

rpf smut under da cut - minors gtfo

anything with sweet (sweetheart, sweet, sweet girl, sweetie) - 10000% katie's version of princess, like have they forgotten your name? nope, she just uses any variation of these names at any time. i do think sweetheart and sweetie are the sfw names, like in public or when y'all have friends over in the garden for a lil bbq, she's calling for you across the backyard like, "do you need help sweetheart?" or "here i'll get the door sweetie." i think her calling you "my sweet" is reserved for special occasions like birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, etc. i just think it sounds so formal. the other variations are fine in public but i think sweet girl is sooooo bedroom vibes. i use sweet girl for julien a lot and i think about it in the same way for katie like, "be patient sweet girl," while she's sucking hickeys into your thighs

angel - i think katie calls it how they see it okay, you're an angel and you will be treated as such. i don't think this is an everyday name like anything with sweet^ but there's no place she wouldn't call you angel. in public at the grocery store and you're checking stuff off of a grocery list? "got it, next one angel." when she's teaching you to rollerskate and you almost fall? "i got you angel." when you're being so good and patient for her as she kisses down your body? "stay still and i'll reward you angel." so it's not an everyday name but its versatile as hell

sunshine - your pouts and frowns do something to katies insides. sunshine is a name reserved for when you're feeling extra needy, katie is pouting along with you because you look like you could combust, she can practically see a rain cloud sitting over your head. maybe you're under the covers, nose and mouth peaking out so you can breathe and katie is kneeling down next to the bed, kissing your lips softly, eyes lighting up when you pull the covers down, "hiya sunshine," she says softly, stroking your hair and running a finger down your face.

darling - there's two versions of darling, there's the everyday like "good morning darling" or "text me when you get there safe darling" and then there's the dramatic darling, reserved for when y'all are fighting or arguing and she says something like "darling, i love you, but you're not listening to me," and ts paired with like a disappointed half smile that makes soft!gf absolutely lose it because how can katie still be so sweet while arguing with her.

i thought about darling being an entirely innocent nickname but then i had a thot about katie breathlessly calling you darling while your knuckle deep in her and kissing her sloppily. ok it would be sooooo cute, she'd be all like "p-please darling, you're so good fuck" aAAHH

peach - this one is so off base like i have no evidence but i think she starts calling you peach very early on in the relationship and you're confused because maybe you don't like peaches or maybe you like them a lot and you're wondering if she's mocking you? but then one night katies lying in bed, glasses on hair up, reading a book when you walk in the bedroom ready for bed. she's instantly putting the book down and opening their arms being like "c'mere peach," and when your head is on her chest you finally ask "why do you call me peach?". katie's eyes basically darken, one hand sliding down your back to pinch your ass before she leans down and connects your lips before saying, "because the first time i tasted you, you were as sweet as a peach," and smirking

[ladylooch]

facetime sex with timo!! love u

A/N: First of all, LOVE YOU!!!! Thank you for blessing my inbox with Timo thots. Second, this request is what inspired me to ask people if they wanted to see more of Timo and Emma, because I knew this would fit really well into Loving & Leaving. And those two are such hoes for each other, they would get 🌶️ like this. Hope that’s okay with you, anon!

Also FFS I love these two. Come into my inbox and ask me about them 😭💕

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ content, phone sex, swearing, pregnancy, lil angsty

This takes place in the general timeline of Part 5 here. 

For the first time since 2012, the Devils have made it to the Eastern Conference Finals. They will have a tough test against the Boston Bruins in the next round, but tonight, we celebrate. Well, as much as we can for being 4,000 miles apart. 

“I’m so proud of you.” I murmur to Timo as he lays in his New Jersey bed. I’m in his our bed in Switzerland, propped against five pillows to prevent heartburn from the breakfast I just ate. It’s just about 8:00 am in Switzerland, while Timo is in the early hours of his morning in North America. 

“Thank you.” He smiles, blue eyes a bit droopy as he looks at the screen, taking in my freshly washed face. My hair is still wrapped up in a towel to dry a bit more before I blow dry it out. “What does your day look like?”

“Busy. Rhea and I have three site visits scheduled.”

“Hmm, that seems like a lot. Maybe you should-” He frowns before I cut him off.

“Don’t even start.” I warn him. Last time he told me to take it easy began a 24 hour silent protest from me. I only broke it when he sent a large bouquet of flowers that said: I’m sorry. Please call.

“I love and admire your work ethic, baby. I worry about you though.”

“I know. And I love that you worry. It’s… hot.” I trail off. His interest is immediately obvious. I take the towel out of my hair, letting it fall into wavy tendrils around my face. I bring my hands up, fluffing at the strands to give them some volume. My satin robe tightens across my chest, accenting my perked nipples. 

“If you really love me, you’ll take that robe off and give me a peak.”

“This one?” I ask, fingering the cool fabric. I let it fall off my shoulder, giving him a peak of one of the top swells. It’s enough to get him to lick his lips. 

“Yeah.” He breathes, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip. His eyes are laser focused as I trail my fingertips across my newly bare skin. 

“I miss you so much.” I moan to him, laying back against the pillows but keeping my robe slightly off. 

“Me too. Maybe we could… play around and help ease some of that.” 

I pause before I speak. 

“You mean like.. phone sex?”

“Yeah.” I purse my lips together. “It’s getting a bit painful.” He tilts the screen down so I can see his large erection stringing his sweatpants into a tent. I want that buried between my thighs. I clench them together to try and dull the ache for him. It does nothing especially when he gives himself a squeeze over his pants, moaning afterwards. “Please. I miss your pussy.” That filthy word from his mouth makes my inner walls clench.

“Timo… I don’t really know what to do.” I sound breathless, not sincere in my protest.

“Thats okay. I’ll help.”

I glance around the empty room, then sit the laptop down between my legs. My large belly gets a bit in the way and I shimmy down until I’m comfortable.

“Is that good?” I ask him, tilting to look at the angle. He can see everything, but also my double, pregnancy chins which I really hate.

“It’s perfect. You look so good.” I meet his gaze, seeing the adoration as he pulls himself out of his pants. He wiggles his shorts down his hips so he can comfortably stroke himself without holding his waistband. I watch him for a moment, savoring the view of him thickened and large in his palm. “Take your panties off.” He encourages me, gesturing to the triangle of fabric hiding me from him. I maneuver them off, then toss them to the floor. When I spread my knees and stroke my finger tips over my folds, Timo chokes on a moan.

This feeling is foreign, touching myself in front of him when he isn’t here.  My fingers nudge my damp folds open for him. I tentatively stroke along the plumed skin, watching Timo lead me on the screen with a steady tempo of pumps.

“Relax.” He chuckles, seeing my eyes screw shut after a few moments of eye contact. 

“This is a little weird for me.” I admit. “Have you done this before?”

“No.”

That makes me feel better. I know he is more experienced than me but this feels more intimate than actually having sex. The thought of him having this moment with someone else would hurt. Instead, knowing I’m the only one, increases my confidence. I glide my middle finger along my slit, collecting the wetness to swirl it around my clit.

“Mmm, feel how wet you are for me, baby.” He admires, hand beginning to pump himself faster with his fist. “Fuck, I can’t wait to bury myself in your perfect pussy.” He moans loudly, praising me as I increase my tempo to match him. “Take your robe off all the way.”

“No, my nipples look weird.” 

“Babe.” He whines. “Please. I wanna see all of you.” His intense gaze, wet lips and quick strokes on his cock make my oblige. I take the fabric off completely, letting him see me. His moans get louder. “Holy fuck. You look so sexy pregnant with my baby.” Every time I get insecure with this pregnancy, Timo is right there to replace every negative thought with generous praise. 

“You like what you did to me?” My tone is breathy and needy, filled with feminine grunts that have Timo buzzing on the screen.

“Yeah. You’re only having my babies right?” 

“Yes, T.” I moan as I glide two fingers into my entrance. I thrust them in and out, both of us going silent to hear my slickness coat the call. 

“Faster, baby. Wanna come together.” 

I quicken my pace, then trail my other hand up my body to play with my nipples. I pinch and stroke until I am bucking into my fingers in desperation. I watch Timo’s hand stroke his hard shaft, the tip beginning to dribble pre-cum down his fingers. It’s so sexy watching him watch me. I bite my lip, then begin to pant as I get closer. I bring my hand back down, rotating my clit with it as I push my fingers deeper.

“Curl up now.” Timo commands, knowing that will get me. My fingers curl. Timo praises me, his voice giving away how close he is as he mumbles a string of fucks. I rub against that velvet spot in me, watching Timo’s jerk white ribbons from his tip, while pretending it’s him that pushes me over the edge. The orgasm that rocks me is exquisite, I shiver and convulse into a sit up before falling back to the bed.

My eyes stay closed, listening to the appreciative groan from Timo through the computer. I swallow, wetting my painfully dry throat. I tilt my face back to make eye contact with him again. His smile is sweet and tender, making a lump form in my throat. “I want you to be here with me.”

“I know.” He whispers, seeing my tears. 

“But I want you to win a Stanley Cup too.” I frown, pushing my bottom lip out. I run my hand over the baby as he wiggles around a bit. Timo focuses on where my hand is now, tucking himself back into his shorts with a sigh. I grab the computer, bringing it back so my face is now the focal point of this call.

“I’ll be home soon, no matter what.” We both know soon could be over a month away still. “Then I’ll touch you everywhere.” I close my eyes, imagining that his arms are around me right now. “I’ll hold you every night. Massage your feet and legs and anything else you’ll let me.” He finishes as we both chuckle. “Will you talk to me until I fall asleep? Tell me about your cravings this week.” 

“Pickles!” I shout excitedly. “And cream cheese.” 

“Yuck.”

“No, baby, it’s so good. You dip the pickle in the cream cheese and then put everything but the bagel seasoning on. Oh my god. It’s everything the baby desires in the world. He gets so happy and literally jumps around. I’m out of a lot of the ingredients though cause that is literally all I ate yesterday.” I chuckle. “Probably won’t be able to get to the store until tomorrow though.”

“Yeah, that might be for the best. You need more protein than that for our big boy.”

“Hush.” I roll my eyes at him. “He’s growing perfectly, so I’m doing something right.”

“You are doing everything right, Em. He’s so lucky you’re his mama. Me too.” I watch as Timo’s blue eyes do a loooooong blink before he opens them, squinting at me from where he lays on his crunched up pillow. His arms are beneath it, phone propped up on his nightstand now, so he doesn’t have to hold it.

I get up from the bed, heading to the bathroom to start getting ready. I need to leave in about twenty minutes. I spend that time chatting about a few more things with him as I work my hair into large, wavy curls. By the time I’m setting everything with light hair spray, Timo is asleep. Puffs of air have his chest rising and falling steadily. 

“T?” I whisper, seeing if he is as out as he looks. He doesn’t react to my voice. Instead, a slight snort sounds from his nostrils. I smile, pressing two fingers to my lips then touching the screen. “We love you. Sleep well.” I tell him. With one final glance, I hit the end of the FaceTime call. Then, I’m out the door ready to take on my busy day.

When I get home from my long day, there is an unexpected delivery waiting for me outside our apartment door. I slowly reach down, using the wall as an anchor so I don’t tip over my belly. There is a note attached to the delivery cooler.

For my babies, I love you both so much. Thank you for earlier, babe. It was everything I needed. - Daddy

Inside the cooler is a big jar of pickles, two blocks of cream cheese, everything but the bagel seasoning, and a bouquet of pink, white, and lavender flowers. I tear up, realizing he must’ve woken up in the middle of his night to order these for us. He’s 4,000 miles away and I’ve never felt more loved by him than right now.

“You have the best daddy.” I murmur to our son where he kicks beneath the groceries in my arms. “Let’s go make some pickles and wait for him to call after practice.”

[anime-kia]

Mother’s Day?

Lmao sorry, another Dadmonger story.

I couldn't come up with a unique Mother's Day special with the reader celebrating so I used this plot instead. 

Mentions of infertility, otherwise, no warnings.

Enjoy!

Relationship: Single Father Erik x Dance Teacher Reader

Erik always loved when his daughter came to visit on the weekends. Despite having to deal with her irritating mother whom he should've left years ago, Aaliyah always brought joy to his usually busy and hectic life.

He was quite surprised when his arrogant, loud-mouthed baby mother was knocking on his door at seven in the morning, calling his name like Sabrina from Madea's Big Happy Family 2. 

It didn't irritate him that she was at his door so early, seeing as he was already up since five, working out. But it was Mother's Day today and there was no reason for her to be disrupting his peace.

As soon as the door creaked open, the eight-year-old was already in his arms. 

"Hi, daddy!" She gave him a tight hug, the patterned beads on the ends of her hair bounced off his cheek as they made contact.

"Hey, princess." He lifted Aaliyah and gave her a kiss on her cheek above the dimple that matched his. "Go on inside, I'll be there in a second." He said after setting her down.

When Aaliyah was inside, he stepped out and closed the door leaving a small crack. 

"Brianna." He simply said with a distasteful look on his face.

"What? You looking like it ain't your turn to spend time with her."

His eyes narrowed, "It's Mother's Day though." 

"And?" She shrugged her shoulders and copied his stare, "It's your weekend with her. I got shit to do." 

Erik almost laughed, not at her but at himself. This is the bitch that I got pregnant? 

"What's so funny?" She asked, resting her hand on her hip. Her nails caught his attention, ridiculously long, pointy and bright. Now that he took a better look at her, he could see and assume the exact reason why she had the nerve to pull something like this. 

"Nothing, except you tryna go out and be the thot that you is instead of spending time with your daughter. You ain't send her to one of ya little family members cuz they would've clocked your ass for pulling this stunt." Erik ridiculed her, and every factual statement he said had her eyebrows furrowing and fists clenching harder. 

"Fuck you, Erik!" She yelled, pointing her index finger to his face. "You the last person to be judging me."

"Nah, fuck you for being an ain't shit ass mother." With that, he went back inside and locked the door in her face. There was a thump against the door, followed by the sound of her flip flops going down the porch. He sighed and went to go look for Aaliyah. 

Erik tried to keep arguing and fights to a minimal whenever Aaliyah was around. It was quite difficult considering her mother was an obnoxious loud mouth who had no class or shame. 

Aaliyah knew they didn't get along, in fact even she didn't get along with her mom that well. Brianna was one of those people who shouldn't have kids, but still has them anyway. They didn't really share a mother-daughter bond at all, Aaliyah would get that from other women in her life. Brianna would rather spend time partying, drinking, hooking up, and other stuff that she should've put to rest after she became a mother.

The only reason he wasn't able to take full custody over his daughter was because the judge was quite biased against the infamous ex-Killmonger and there was no way a man like that could raise a child in love. Of course it did take a while for him to recover, thanks to his family in Wakanda, but he was one hundred percent a stable man. Also, he was way more capable to care for his daughter than Brianna ever could. 

For one, Erik lived in luxury. He lived in a better house, drove a nicer car, ate tastier foods, and resided in a safer neighbourhood. In fact, he paid for all of Aaliyah's necessities even at Brianna's request. Her clothes, shoes, school supplies and extra curricular activities like dance and swimming. 

Brianna on the other hand moved around a lot, couch-surfing, she didn't drive, McDonald's was often her first choice of meal, and she spent a lot more money on her appearance and other things that should come last versus taking care of her basic needs. 

But in the court house, she used her mother's living as a cover up for her own. Decent house, fair neighbourhood, working, stable. 

He recalls how furious he was when the judge denied him the rights to his child. He knew that Brianna only did this to spite him and also for her own personal financial benefit. Child support was expensive. 

"Aaliy-" He walked into the living room to find her curled up in a throw blanket on the sectional sofa, fast asleep. Her overnight bag was resting on the floor. He let her sleep, seeing as it was still very early. 

Usually, she would be dropped off on a Friday night and they would wake up around ten or eleven the following day. On Sundays, they would wake up even later around twelve.

Erik spent the rest of the morning in his gym, finishing off his workout that was interrupted. He liked to play music that was loud enough to vibrate the walls, but his baby girl was asleep so he opted to keep it relatively low. 

An hour went by and Erik finished his workout. He took a hot steaming shower that fogged up the entire bathroom, then moisturized and got dressed into a white t-shirt, light grey Jordan sweater and black basketball shorts. It was a habit to wear his gold chain that was tucked behind the hoodie. 

More time had passed and breakfast was served, eggs and pancakes. Aaliyah was up and ready, climbing onto the bar stool. He slid her plate towards her, along with the maple syrup bottle. 

"That's that real maple syrup. Not the sugary shit ya mama feeds you." He watched as she examined the glass bottle. "But be careful not to drop it, aight?"

"Okay, daddy." She twisted the cap off and used her two small hands to drizzle the syrup onto her pancakes. She ended up drowning them and part of the scrambled eggs, but she liked it that way. 

Weird. Erik thought. He took a seat beside her and poured the syrup onto his pancakes. "So what we got planned for today?" 

Aaliyah's bright face toned down, and her chewing slowed. "Well..." He waited for her response as she swallowed. "Mama was supposed to come to ballet with me. My teacher said bring your mommies for the Mother's Day dance class!" Her fist rested under her chin, "But she isn't here."

He stared at his daughter, reminiscing on the feeling. Erik knew exactly what it was like to not have someone there with him. All the basketball tournaments, school events, and graduation ceremonies. It was no one except him and if he was lucky, maybe one of his foster parents would attend, but that was as rare as a blue moon.

"I uh... I'll take you." He hesitantly said.

"But you always take me, daddy." She didn't understand what he meant, seeing as her classes took place on the weekends so Erik always dropped her off anyway.

"Nah, Li. I mean I'll join the class with you. Only for today." He put his pride behind him today, only for his daughter though. As long as his friends and family didn't see this, everything would be alright. 

She started cracking up at Erik's offer, throwing her head back in amusement. "But you're a boy, not a girl!" 

"I'm a man, actually. And so what, you got the coolest dad. We gon' have more fun than the rest of 'em." He smiled at his daughter's enjoyment. The two finished their meals and got ready to head out.

On the ride there, Aaliyah couldn't stop sharing her excitement. She often spoke about her dance teacher and how much she loved her. 

"She's so pretty, and so nice! And she dances so good! I wanna be like her when I grow up!" 

Aaliyah would always talk about her teacher with Erik. The one time she tried to talk to Brianna about her, that resulted in Brianna cursing the teacher off and claiming that she was trying to steal her daughter away.

To say Brianna was an irrational, nonsensical, drama queen would be an understatement. 

Erik's nerves spiked as they entered the building. Of course he could dance, but not to the point where he could be a professional. He was more of a man who had rhythm and could do little bits and pieces of hip hop. Though he was graceful, quiet and fast on his feet, ballet was most definitely not one of his specialties. 

"This way, daddy!" Her pink tutu bounced as she pulled him towards a brown door, similar to a school classroom door. Outside, there were mothers and daughters all lined up. The little girls were all so giddy and excited, jumping up and down and yapping to their mothers.

He hadn't realized it, but Aaliyah was tugging very hard at his arm. Erik was forming a resistance as they got closer. 

"Ungh!" Her little grunts finally were audible in his ears, "Come! On!" Her ballet slippers slid on the tile floor as she tried to tug him.

"Oh damn, my bad." He eased up and allowed her to bring them closer to the door. The mothers immediately took notice of him, some eyeing him longer than they should've. Some looks of confusion, some of lust. They were already talking, but he could sense when the conversations switched to be about him.  

Aaliyah was already talking to a group of young girls, sharing their excitement about today. He could hear her boasting about him, even when they questioned where her mother was.

There was classical music playing on the inside for a while, and Erik was praying that it would continue non-stop. He checked his watch; 1:59.

And as soon as the clock struck 2:00, the music stopped. 

Another minute passed and the door finally opened, a set of older girls about twelve to fifteen exited. The younger girls squealed in excitement, lining up beside their mothers and Aaliyah to her father. She squeezed his hand and bounced up and down.

"Aye, you bout to pull my shoulder out." He complained. 

"Oops, sorry daddy!" Aaliyah apologized and relaxed a bit. Instead, she swayed their arms back and forth. 

The line started to move into the room and he assumed that he missed when they were called in. Admitted, Erik was quite interested to see who his daughter bragged about all the time. Being the last to step in, he closed the door and finally turned around. 

Erik was beyond surprised to see a young black woman teaching the class. Not that he was underestimating her abilities, but when he thought of a ballet teacher, he pictured an old, white, grumpy-looking lady. Also, black ballerinas were not represented as much, so this was quite the surprise. He assumed that the teacher loved Aaliyah so much because she was a grandmother, and grandparents love children, but he got the exact opposite instead. He was thrilled in fact, and Aaliyah was correct, she was beautiful. You were beautiful. 

"Good afternoon everyone, my name is Miss (Y/n) and I'm happy that you're all here for this Mother's Day class." Your smile was so vibrant and bold, lighting up the entire room. Your eyes made contact with Erik's, a chill raced through your body. He was very handsome. 

He was broad and had a lot of mass, which easily showed through his clothes. You were digging the dreads that laid to the left of his head.

However, you were not surprised at all that her mother wasn't here, but you were shocked when he showed up instead. You were expecting not to see Aaliyah at all, but nonetheless you didn't question it. It warmed your heart to see how much he cared because the lack on her maternal side was very apparent. Aaliyah viewed you as a motherly figure, you knew that. And it didn't bother you at all, she was a sweetheart.  

"Alright, so we'll start off with warming up the muscles then we can start with pliés."

You did simple stretches and warming up with the class so no one would get injured. Jogging on the spot, high knees, jumping jacks, lunges, toe touches, the basics. You did take notice of how fit Erik was, and he was quite flexible too. Though he was wearing a sweater, you could clearly see how muscular his arms were. You couldn't help but stare. Only to be stopped as he caught you. 

You looked away, and stood up from your lunge, "Alright, moms and dad, can we get you on this side of the room." You pointed to the left where the taller bar was, and the girls used the shorter one.

The barre routines you pulled together were relatively simple. Though this was a third-level RAD (Royal Academy of Dance) ballet class, you had to alter it so the inexperienced parents could have their fun too, without stumbling or getting frustrated because ballet can be irritating. 

"So we're gonna start with our feet in first position and hold for two counts, one... two... Arms through port de bras to second position, three, four." You demonstrated as the participants followed. "Demi-plié and stretch, demi-plié and stretch, rise up, hold, hold and lower. Grand plié, bringing your arm through port de bras and stretch, turn to the other side." The kids were happy at the simplicity, but half of the parents already looked winded. You smiled, "Easy enough?"

There were some sarcastic agrees, which was understandable. 

"Don't worry, I'll walk you through it." You smiled at the parents, hitting play on the stereo. You physically demonstrated the steps on the first side, but on the second side, you walked around the room correcting technique. 

Erik felt stupid, but no one was judging him as far as he could tell.

You lifted Aaliyah's chin gently as she had a habit of staring down at her feet. "Eyes up. Turn out your feet, and make sure you're resting on all ten toes." You fixed the rest of the girls' arms, posture, and feet positions then switched to the adult bar. 

Big yikes, was all you could think of as you watched half of the mothers attempt ballet. The other half were ex-dancers so they were able to do the exercise properly and Erik wasn't bad at all. No, he wasn't perfect, and you betted that if he trained when he was younger, there was no doubt he would be the next Mikhail Baryshnikov. You could tell that he has trained in some areas that required him to be agile and flexible. 

"Very good, Mr. Stevens." You praised him. He felt himself smirk. It was nice to receive approval outside of the bedroom or work.

The only thing you fixed on him was his elbow because it was drooping, and also because why not get a close-up of his massive arms. You adjusted posture and arms on the rest of the ladies.

"Nice finish." You applauded as the song came to an end. "I see we have some natural talent in the room, how many parents are or were dancers?" About five raised their hand. You asked them what discipline did they study and when, if they performed and other dance-related things. 

Just like the ballet language itself, it was all so foreign to him. He didn't even try to comprehend what you were discussing. The most he knew were pliés, so when you got to saying the other barre exercises, he was at a loss.

Battement tendus, battement glissés, rond de jambe, and that wasn't even a quarter of the ballet glossary.

Finally finished with barre work, the class was in the centre facing the mirror. 

"Hold up, it's more?" Erik asked, with a heavy breath. All that leg kicking and pliéing had him tired. He grew a newfound respect for ballerinas and all dancers for that matter. 

Everyone giggled.

"Of course, Mr. Stevens. I only did a third of the barre exercises though. We still have centre, corner and character to do." You smiled at him. You lied though, there was no way you'd have enough time to do the whole syllabus, and also it was a Mother's Day class, not a regular one. 

The look on his face was hilarious, everyone's giggles escalated into laughter. 

"You're already tired, daddy?!" Aaliyah asked in shock as if she didn't have sweat beads on her forehead. 

"Hell y- I mean, yeah I'm tired." A while ago he was doing just fine, it only goes to show that he was actually putting in effort. His hard work opened you back up to the idea of hosting a Father's Day dance class. 

The first two years you hosted the Father's Day dance, only three or four would show up. It was a shame considering how cute of a bonding experience it would've been for both parties. Erik was your solid proof. Only if they could put their pride down for just an hour.

"So for this next exercise, we're gonna be doing turns!"

"Yaaayy!" The girls all cheered, as turning was their favourite. It was nice to see because when you started out dancing, turning was not your specialty. You were better at jumps.

"Can I get a partner to demonstrate this exercise?" 

To your surprise Erik's hand raised.

"Oh, Mr. Stevens? Looks like I'm taking your partner, Aaliyah." You joked.

"That's okay! He said he wanted to!" She had a mischievous smile on her face. 

Erik's face heated up as the others made noises, he felt so childish. It reminded him of the time the class found out about his first crush back in middle school.

Either way, demonstrating with two adults worked better than with a small child. 

"So, what you're going to do is place your hands on my hips." He did just that, his cologne was faint but smelled very fresh and masculine. "And just rotate me as I keep my feet in first and imitate walks like a penguin." You demonstrated as you spoke. "Can anyone tell me what these are?"

They all raised their hands excitedly, ready to share their knowledge. 

"Ellie?"

"Chaine turns!" The little blonde exclaimed. 

"Perfect! Now make sure you keep your arms tight so you don't hit your partner."

The grip he had on your hips was surprisingly a lot more gentle than you expected from such a large man. For someone with no experience, he was a great partner. The audience applauded and you gave them a quick curtsey. 

"Now you can have your partner back, Aaliyah." You smiled at the girl who was staring in awe at her father and a woman she wished to be one day. "After the partners in front have turned four times, you may start, okay?" You hit play and a more upbeat song played through the speakers, catching the ballet uneducated off guard. "Alright, so we're gonna start in three, two, one."

You watched as they taped their feet, shimmying their shoulders a bit as they waited for their turns. Not many people knew, but ballet wasn't strict to only classical piano music, it came in all forms.

You singled for each group to start, "Eyes up! Keep spotting! Keep your heels together, ladies! Turnout!"

Though you did have to remind her to spot the wall and not her feet, Aaliyah was the most consistent out of the rest of her class. She had so much potential and you hoped that she would continue dancing in the future. 

"Very good, everyone! Take a little water break and we'll get started on our second last routine of the day." 

The class awed in disappointment that it was already over. This was actually a first, usually, they were excited to leave. But syllabus work was never as fun as leisure classes like these. You were slightly more strict when it came to teaching syllabus. 

"Can you open this for me, daddy?" Aaliyah handed her white and pink water bottle over to her dad. 

He twisted it enough to remove the pressure, "Ah, it's too hard. Here, you try again." 

"But if you can't open it, then how will I?" She pouted. 

"Show me your muscles."

She lifted her small arms and flexed.

"Ahh, there they are. Now put 'em to use, girl." He placed the bottle back into her hands. With her might, she easily twisted the lid off.

"I did it!" She celebrated.

"Aye, there you go princess." Erik smiled, pulling his daughter into a hug and planting kisses on her cheek.

The mothers watched in awe at the father and daughter. They would've loved for their husbands to be as affectionate and loving with their children, but they were either too busy or too "manly" to be like that. Erik however, did not care. He would love and be proud of his seed no matter what. 

You too gushed at the interaction. It made you become hopeful- about the possibility of having kids. 

"Alright everyone, time for some grand jetés!" 

The clanking of water bottles being put down, and ballet slippers padding across the floor filled the room.

"Can someone tell me what a grand jeté is?" The girls raised their hands in excitement just like that last time. "Amelia?"

"It's when you run and you jump and do a big split!" 

"Perfect answer!" You applauded the light skin girl with brown freckles. "Mr. Stevens, can I get you to help me demonstrate once again?"

"Yeah, of course." He stepped out of the line towards you. 

"So the goal of this one is to get really high but also to get a nice big split. Parents, you're going to assist in the height factor and girls, your goal is to get your legs as wide as possible, alright?" You stood in front of him and placed his large hands on your hips. "I'm going to chassé, then take two steps and brush my leg out to do the split."

The first run was slow, making sure that he could keep up. For someone with no experience in ballet, he really surprised you. His coordination was excellent. 

The second time around, you picked up the pace and on the jump, he got you very high off the ground, as if he's practiced this before. He gently set you down and  for a brief moment, his chocolate eyes met with yours. You smiled at each other and turned to face the class.

"Give Mr. Stevens a round of applause! That was amazing!" He bowed in acknowledgment.  After the claps became silent you said, "See how high we got? That's how high you want to get on your own one day." Obviously that was just encouragement, a person can only jump so high. 

You played the music and just like the last time you signalled for each partners to start. The mothers who were previous dancers got their daughters at very good heights, you could tell they were giving them pointers as well. 

"Eyes up! No développé, make sure you're brushing your leg! Turnout! Stretch that back leg! Point your toes!" 

It was funny to see the mothers who had no dance experience trying to keep up with their daughters. Some of the girls got jealous as they watched Erik lift Aaliyah over his head. They were in a world of their own, laughing joyously as they made it to the opposite corner of the room.

"I want to go that high, mommy!" 

"We're too low!"

"Higher!"

The mothers looked at their children with incredulous looks. That simply meant, no. 

One of the girls, Maya tapped Aaliyah's shoulder. "Can your daddy lift me?" She asked, there was no shyness in her voice. That girl was very bold.

Aaliyah looked up at Erik while pulling on his hoodie. "Daddy?" 

"Wassup, princess?" 

"Maya wants to know if you can lift her too." 

He was stunned at first, "I uh- Yeah, sure." He smiled at them both. "As long as Miss (Y/n) is okay with it."

"Miss (Y/n)! Miss (Y/n)!" The two girls called out. You were checking your notes for the next class routine.

"Yes, girls?" You asked, a little startled. 

"My daddy offered to help us jump higher if that's okay with you!" 

Quite the surprise, "Yeah, that's fine." 

After Maya was lifted, the other girls screamed "Me too!" 

He looked dumbfounded, it made you giggle. 

"How about this, one jump from Mr. Stevens and then you have to try and jump higher than that, but remembering all the corrections we've been working on throughout the year. Deal?"

"Deal!" They all cheered. The mothers looked very interested as well.

You started the music up and the girls lined up beside Erik. They each took their turns, and you could see some improvement already. They were jumping higher, which resulted in better splits. The mothers recorded, proud of their daughters and still in awe of Erik. 

If they saw him on the streets, they would've assumed that he was up to no good. This soft, child-loving and friendly side was shocking to not only them, but to himself as well. 

They all finished, and Erik was sweating. You wanted to ask him to take his sweater off, but that might be flirting a little too hard.

"Good job, ladies! And that was awesome Mr. Stevens!" You gave them a round of applause, the mothers joining in as well. "For our final lesson, we'll be doing révérence. You can choreograph this piece with your moms- and dad, but it's going to be really short. Two counts of eight, three max. I'll give you five minutes to come up with your routine." 

Each pair went off to their own section of the room to practice. 

Erik had no idea where to start, he was usually really good with formulating a plan, but ballet? Yeah, right. Good thing his little sidekick was the expert. She already had something in mind. 

"Okay so, first we're going to walk, one, two- Turnout your feet, daddy."

"I'm trying, Li." He grunted as he fixed his feet. This ballet shit was a lot harder than I imagined. 

"Then you bring your arms up to first and then to second, like this." She demonstrated for him and he followed suit. She looked at his arm position, droopy elbows, and corrected them. "Like that. Don't drop your arms, okay?" 

"Yes, princess." He complied. Already, he could tell she was going to be a great leader. 

"Then I'm gonna lift my arms up and you pick me up and we do a turn, then you put me down and we curtsy with our arms in demi-seconde." 

"Demi-what?" 

"Seconde, like this!" She showed him the arm position.

"Aight, lets run this again cuz I already forgot."

Aaliyah placed her hands on her hips, "Really, daddy?"

"Yeah, come on." 

The two practiced their routine as did the others until you finally called time.

"So, who wants to go first?" 

Of course Aaliyah's hand shot up, but you wanted to give someone else a go. Besides, you had to save the best for last.

The moms who weren't dancers went first, they were... Well, you've seen worse let's just say that. Then the ex-dancers went, very graceful and lovely routines. It made you wonder who was the choreographer because they were doing some things that you hadn't taught the class. Lastly, it was Erik and Aaliyah's turn.

The first part of their routine was very simple, but very cute. After he spun her and set her down to do their curtsy, he took her hand and placed  a small kiss on the back and she did the same. It was so adorable, the mothers awed along with you. 

"Excellent work, everyone!" Erik hadn't realized how much fun he was actually having until you announced that class was finally over. "I hope you all have an amazing rest of your Mother's Day and I'll see you next weekend."

Time does fly by when you're having fun. 

"Goodbye, Miss (Y/n)!" They all said and exited the room, all except Erik and Aaliyah. 

After class, Aaliyah would spend time talking with you about anything. She would tell you about her family life, school and anything that was holding her interest at the moment. It was habitual, and it made Erik more curious about you. 

Erik watched as the eight-year-old ran into your arms. 

"Hey Aaliyah, did you have fun today?" You asked holding onto her, similar to a mother.

"Yeah, so much fun! I told you my daddy was very strong!" 

You laughed, "I didn't doubt it for a second." You stood up and looked at him. 

"So y'all be talking about me while I'm not here?" He chuckled, arms folded over his chest. 

"Only good stuff." You assured him with a grin. "I wasn't expecting you to be so graceful though."

Erik shrugged, "I am a big nigga." 

You raised an eyebrow. 

"She's heard everything already, but she knows not to say it. Right, Li?"

"Yes, sir!" She gave him her biggest toothy grin.

"Aye." He pulled five dollars out of his pocket and handed it to her, "How about you go get something from the vending machine, princess."

"Okay!" She accepted the cash and skipped out of the room. 

Now all that remained was you and Erik. It wasn't necessarily tense in the atmosphere, but you felt shy for some odd reason. His stare was enough to make you want to hide your face and blush. Sure handsome men have been around you, but something about Erik was more intense. 

"So, you met her mom, right?" He suddenly asked.

"Yeah." You wanted to laugh thinking of that ridiculous woman, "She was ready to take me to court after caring about her daughter. She said I was trying to take her away or whatever, but I can't help it if Aaliyah likes me. Besides I love kids."

"Yeah, sorry about that. The girl is crazy." 

You nodded quickly, agreeing with him. 

"Do you got any kids? I mean you look pretty young, but..."

Your heart sunk, "Well... I haven't um... Been able to conceive so no. That's kind of why I spend a lot of time with kids, to make up for the loss."

"Shit, I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

"No, no, no. It's fine, really. I've only tried it a few times with one person, and after the multiple failures I was too scared to try again so we gave up on each other." 

"Damn, I really didn't mean to bring that up."

"No, it's alright. Really." You sighed, "For now, I'm more focused on helping these kids get better and enjoy ballet cuz it can be a lot of fun." 

You could still see he was slightly upset by your news, so you decided to change the topic. 

"So Mr. Stevens-"

"Erik." 

"Yes, Erik." You smiled, "I'm curious to know about your natural talent. Did you dance when you were younger?"

"Nah. I always knew how to dance, but not this ballet shit. I was in the Navy and I did a bunch of training that made me work on stealth. I guess it counted for more than military stuff." 

"Ohhh, okay that makes sense."  

It was silent for a moment, until both of you tried to speak at the same time.

"You first." He insisted.

"Well I was hoping that I'll see you next month for the Father's Day dance class. I stopped doing them cuz the dads wouldn't show up, but I mean a big, strong guy like you decided to come to the Mother's Day class, so I thought, why not? I would love to have you again, it was really fun."

"I did this for Aaliyah, let's make that clear." He stated, attempting to come off as if he didn't enjoy the class.

"Yeah, yeah." You rolled your eyes, "Ballet isn't only for women. I'm sure you would've been the next Carlos Acosta if you started out when you were younger." 

"Who?" Erik raised his eyebrow. 

"He's a ballet dancer. But anyways, you should come. We can do more lifts and tricks, it'll be fun."

"We?" He gave you a suggestive look. That only made you blush and turn your head.

"Anyways! So will you be joining us again?" 

He scratched his beard, "On one condition."

"Which is?" 

He knew you were quite interested after he caught you staring more than once during the class. "Let me take you out on a date and we'll see what happens from there."

You were taken aback, "A d-date?"

"Yeah, I wanna get to know you more and see why my daughter likes you so much." 

Your heart was beating so loudly, you were convinced that Erik could hear it. "I uh- y-yeah, sure. Why not?"

"Great." He smiled, showing off his gold fangs that you just took notice of. 

Aaliyah came back with two packs of skittles, a pack of starbursts and Doritos. She watched you both exchange numbers. "I'm back!" 

"Ready to go, Li?" He turned to his daughter after you finished giving him your number.

"Yep! Bye Miss (Y/n)!"

"Goodbye, sweetheart. See you next weekend. Bye Erik, see you soon." 

He winked at you as he walked out, "Bye, Miss (Y/n)."  The door finally locked, and the butterflies that were flying rampant in your stomach had finally settled down.

"What was she writing in your phone?" Aaliyah asked Erik while eating a handful of Skittles.

"None of your business, girl." He replied, taking the bag of starbursts out of her hand.

"Aww, you never tell me anything!" She huffed.

"That ain't true." He disagreed, popping two pink starbursts into his mouth.

"Yeah!"

"No."

"Yeah, it is!"

"No, it ain't."

The two bickered back and forth until they were in his Range Rover. 

"You like her, don't you?" Aaliyah teased. 

"Uhhh." He wasn't sure if he could answer that truthfully or just start another debate with his daughter again.

"It's okay daddy, I like her too." She said, buckling up as he started the engine.

He grinned at her through his rearview mirror, "Yeah, she's cool."

"Can we get ice cream?" 

"You got ice cream money?"

"Daaadddy?!" She whined.

"I'm just playing, let's go." He laughed, pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards the ice cream parlour. 

Happy Mother's Day! - I know this wasn't that much about Mother's Day, but I didn't want to write your typical Mother's Day one-shot. I wanted to make it unique. 

I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. If you haven't guessed it, I am in fact a dancer. 

I do ballet, acro and jazz (I've done other dances, but this is what I've been doing this year). I didn't want to get too technical with the ballet glossary terms because it would come off as gibberish, unless you are a ballet dancer as well.

If you dance, let me know. What style? If you do ballet, are you with RAD? I am. 

Thank you for reading!

(Start/Finish: May 10, 2019 - May 11, 2019)

2023 Note: Forgot to upload this on Mother’s Day, so here it is on Father’s Day instead :P 

[jasonsmirrorball]

okay my neighbor!jason and roommate!jason thots are going wild right now bc I feel like both of their slow burns end so differently. Like yours and neighbor!jason’s relationship is a slow and steady pining that is more sweet and the catalyst is a “why don’t you just stay here?” after you try to watch all of the lord of the rings movies in one night. and it’s all cuddles and soft kisses and making breakfast and morning sex bc you’re just that comfortable and close at that point you don’t even care you’re just glad it’s finally happening.

meanwhileeee you and roommate!jason have spent so long tiptoeing around each other and suppressing your feelings, convincing yourself the other doesn’t feel the same that it almost ends in a fight of “well how do you think I feel watching you go out with other people?/hearing you get off in the other room?/knowing it’s not me?” and then a “well maybe I wish it was!” and the hottest and filthiest make out session and sex ever known to man and also god.

have a good day/night🫡

nonnie im so glad u get it.

also minors dni + have your age in your bio if you interact

like with neighbour!jason i just imagine it being very luke and lorelai esque, where he's just that guy. like he's your (i imagine him a little older, maybe late twenties/early thirties) hot as shit neighbour who you can always always count on. because he's a good guy. he sees you in the hall and he says hello and you guys talk and hang out occasionally but it's never beyond platonic even though sometimes you feel like he might be flirting with you and sometimes he gets a little quiet when he looks at you. and you grow closer and closer, and you get comfortable enough to blur that line when you flirt with him in the mornings to get a reaction, you feel less inclined to hide your quirks etc. because he's jason. he's wonderful. and you're going to be so happy for whoever he ends up with but at the same time, the thought of someone coming into your lives–because he's part of your life now! he's your friend as much as he's your neighbour. he's seen you cry and he's seen you messy and he's seen you when you've just woken up. the thought of there being someone else makes you a little envious, a little sad. he goes from being the hot guy next door to someone you genuinely care about and love, and that complicates it, because love is scary and you don't want to ruin one of the best relationships in your life. (neighbour!jason is just waiting for you to come to terms with it because he already knows what he wants, age has made him steady, left him assured of himself. but he won't make any moves until he's certain that you're certain)

and with roommate!jason. oh my god. exactly that. i spoke about this with one of my moots but i imagine that the way roomie and jason end up together is extremely messy. they're both very explosive and young(er) and have so much learning to do even if they are adults living on their own with their own jobs/studies. like there's obviously that comfort of being friends but also, there's that tension between them because you're both so attracted to each other and aware of each other, but you still navigate yourselves like you're just roommates when underneath the surface there are so many feelings just simmering, simmering, simmering. you go on dates, jason pretends he isn't extremely jealous, you have to bite down your own envy when other girls eye him up at the store, he's heard you touch yourself–has jerked off to you. it all bubbles up. i imagine it takes a while before you guys end up officially together because you do it backwards. roommate!jason turns to roommate with benefits!jason who eventually turns into roommate/boyfriend!jason. you guys fuck and you know you've crossed the lines of your arrangement from the beginning but feelings are again. so vulnerable. and scary. so you keep quiet until once more someone gets jealous and the actual, deeper feelings come out.

anyway i am rambling. but thank you for sending these thoughts in. i've missed roommate jason and neighbour jason (even though i'm writing a fic for the former atm) and will take any opportunity to talk about them

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forbidden Lessons XXIII

Masterlist

Dun dun dunnnnnnn.

Warnings: noncon, age gap, abuse of power, coercion, mentions of suicide, depression. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them

Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!

Your mother stays in town through the weekend, not that she spends any time with you. You only know because her incessant insta updates. She's now over the grief stage and well into recovery over her pathetic offspring.

Monday comes, the only day you have two classes, and you slog through it as the snow begins to recede.

You ignore your phone aside from the brief reassurance that you're alive to Bucky. He tries to keep up a conversation but you won't. Even if you knew what to say, you can't.

Tuesday, an early morning. Made harder by the prospect of Laufeyson's lecture. You won't give up, not again, not because of him. Hopefully he and your mother destroy each other. At least, you can dream.

You sit near the back, slumping down as you chew the end of your pen. You could sleep right there. Lately, you've been so tired, more than ever. It must be the ever gray sky.

You're dismissed with his usual reminders of pending assignments. The only one you've still not touched among your classes. You rise with the rest of the students and exit through the back.

You remember this hallway. Where you cried, where Barnes stumbled upon you. You press on and descend the south staircase, intent on a London Fog latte from the cafe attached to the engineering centre.

The line isn't very long as it's barely noon. You claim your drink and wander out onto the icy campus. You wander a bit out of the way, admiring the statues and art installations you never noticed before. It's aimlessness without reason. You should just go back to your dorm.

You toss your empty cup in a bin as the wintry breeze wisks over you. Clouds shifting overhead, footsteps cracking the ice on the ground.

You follow the path down the tunnel beneath the library, the steps edged with ice and snow, treacherous and vacant. You sense a shadow, that looming sense of pursuit that crept closer and closer the longer you drifted around.

Your phone shakes before you think of it. You slip it from your pocket and read Bucky's name as it pulses. Should you answer? Why would he be calling?

You hit the green dot and drag your thumb. Before you can lift the speaker to your ear, a voice fills the tunnel, like a villain in his lair.

"Your mother isn't what I expected. She does speak overly much. Unlike you," you keep the phone at your side and turn cautiously. Laufeyson stands at the bottom of the steps, "I wouldn't have guessed who she was if she hadn't gone on about her pathetic daughter. Poor thing threw herself from a bridge."

"Leave me alone," you murmur as he strides closer.

"I would've sent her away with all her chatter but… couldn't resist knowing of her unfortunate relation."

"I said, go."

"You didn't exagerrate," you hear noise from your phone but he can't for his monologue, "she could drive me to a similar precipice."

He snickers as he stops in front of you, his hand trailing up your zipper. You wince and he latches on to keep you from retreating. He yanks you close.

"She’s a lot livelier than you," he taunts, "not as tight though."

"Shut up, leave me–" you grab his wrist and try to pull him off, "please–"

You drop your phone as he jolts you again. You grasp his arm in terror, boots slipping on the ice.

"It's been so long, pet, I hardly think I can accurately compare–"

"Shut up!" You shout, your holler bouncing around the tunnel, "get off!"

You struggle with him, stomping on his toe clawing at his chest and arms.

"Oh, do calm down," he lets you go so fall on your ass and bite your tongue, "too much trouble for a thing like you."

You get to your knees, puffing in a panic, nerves pinging wildly. You don't think, just run. You twist and stumble, pumping your legs in arm as his sinister laughter follows. It's so surreal it feels like a movie, a scene in some softcover rag.

There's honking and screeching of tires as you sprint across the road. You don't stop until you see the river. You pant and stare at the ice floes floating on the surface.

Of course it wasn't a coincidence. Professor Laufeyson it rotten to the core.

💚

It's not until you sit in your dorm, examining the cold scrapes and scratches on your fingers, feeling the bruised impact at the base of your spine that you think of the phone. You left it on the ground. If Laufeyson didn't notice and take it, it was surely cracked on its descent.

As you mull over what to do about the phone, ignoring the nagging and much bigger issues, a knock comes at the door. You hesitate. It could be your mother though you wonder how she got past the front door. Well, the freshman are always lax with letting in strangers.

You cross the room and brace yourself. You're not ready to face her, to think about him and her together. You've been avoiding it diligently.

You open the door, almost unable to react in your shock. It's Professor Barnes. He looks unhappy, as irritated as you've ever seen him.

"I… I lost my phone, I'm sorry if you text–"

"I heard it all," he lifts his hand, your phone in his tight grip, a spiderweb crack at the corner. "I went and got it myself from that jackass."

"What?" You gape and bring your hands to your throat as it constricts, "you–"

"I heard everything. How could you not tell me it was him? How could you– let him hurt you?" He's barely able to get the words out in his fury.

"What did you do to him?" You squeak.

"What he deserves," he snarls and holds out the phone.

"I'm sorry, I tried to stay away but…"

"You're apologising? Don't. He owes you one but–" he inhales through flaring nostrils.

You reach slowly for the cell and his eyes fall to your hand. He clings to the phone as he stares at your chafed hands. You gulp as he reluctantly lets go.

"How did you get in?" You ask at last.

He looks you in the eye, "nothing would stop me from getting to you, understand?"

You don't.

What happened to the chill and charming professor? The self-assured man with his easy humour? This person in front of you is vicious and paranoid. For the first time, he scares you.

You nod as you can't lie out loud. You swallow and glance over the phone.

"We'll get it fixed… or a new one," he promises.

"Thanks, but…" you don't know how to ask him to leave. Can you? You lift your chin and tamp down your fear, "do you want some tea?"

[theangrykimchi]

48!! —thot-son-of-odin

Aaaa!! You can't guess how absolutely excited I was for this prompt as I've wanted to write this particularly scene for literal *years* but didn't really want to write an entire fanfic around it. So thank you for this opportunity! I hope you'll enjoy reading it 😘💖

Read on AO3

Working as a live-in nanny was never in Loki's plans for the future, but here he was, at 25, working as a caretaker for a two year old.

In all honesty, it wasn't the easiest work but it was better than other alternatives for someone who was also studying for university. Plus, the money was really good, Thrud was an absolute pleasure, and his employer was pretty laid back and fun to be around. Thor wasn’t pushy or demanding like his previous two employers—and way more handsome than most people Loki had ever laid eyes on. Which was <i>kind</i> of a problem because Loki was sure Thor didn't lean that way (and by that he meant <i>Loki's way</i>) and that was just unfair because Loki had suddenly turned into one of the most popular clichés and had, of course, developed a crush on his boss sometime in the five months he'd been working for him.

Loki pined <i>hard</i>, day in and day out—especially when Thor scrunched his nose and laughed one of his full, belly laughs or when he answered Thrud’s questions, mastering all the seriousness he could, or when he held his daughter close and rocked her to sleep. Loki was truly gone on him if he found the way Thor fell asleep with Thrud on the sofa <i>cute</i>.

Ugh, this was totally unfair!

Today, Thor was still downstairs when Loki made his way to the kitchen with Thrud following after his steps, chattering a mile a minute in barely comprehensive baby talk. Loki stopped in his tracks when he entered the room and saw Thor was in there, in his undershirt and slacks, flipping a pancake on a precarious stack.

“Good morning.” Thor beamed at them and, damn him, he looked really fucking pretty with the light streaming in from the windows giving him a golden glow, half-ready for work. It was too early in the morning for Loki to have to deal with him and his…Thor-ness!

“You're still here,” Loki blurted out, freezing at the doorway while Thrud yelled in excitement and ran to her dad who picked her up readily and kissed her cheek in greeting, making the toddler giggle as his beard tickled her.

“Got an important meeting later and decided to take my time getting ready so I can calm my nerves. Can you get the plates?” Thor hitched Thrud on one of his hips and brought the stack of pancakes at the breakfast table while answering.

“Oh,” Loki said and went to retrieve the cutlery and crockery while Thor secured his daughter in the booster seat and then went to get the toppings. Coming to stand right behind Loki, Thor held on his bicep as he stretched to reach a bottle of chocolate syrup from the top shelf. “Wha-what’s the meeting about?” Loki asked just so he could say something, trying not to look as affected as he felt when Thor lingered for a couple moments more than necessary. He could feel his breath, hot and minty, as it breezed through Loki's hair for god's sake!

Thor fell back and walked away, leaving Loki to stand there, clutching on Thrud's silicone spork.

“The money we need for the new production to go through,” Thor said. “The sponsors aren't exactly convinced of its effectiveness so I need to be at my most charming today and kiss their asses.”

<i>You could kiss my ass</i>, Loki thought stupidly, getting a very vivid image in his brain. Out loud he said:

“I bet you're going to charm fat checks out of their pockets before the meeting is even over.”

It made Thor laugh and Loki was sure he was looking at him lovestruck but he really couldn't help it—Thor laughed with his whole body, his face open and expressive, his broad shoulders shaking as he leaned backwards.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Thor said, mirthful, a brilliant smile still on his face.

They had breakfast while they discussed softly between them, taking turns to feed Thrud as she was more interested in hitting her plastic plate on the booster’s tray instead of eating but, before long, it was time for Thor to finish getting ready and go to work. He sighed as he looked at the time, looking ruefully at his daughter and Loki.

When he was ready to go, Loki followed behind him to the front door. Thrud hitched on his hip.

“Did you get the documents from the study?” Loki asked, gently removing Thrud's thumb from her mouth.

“Yes, I think I've got everything,” Thor answered, peeking into his briefcase to make sure before he patted his pockets to check for his keys. “Do you have any plans for today?”

“Nah, just getting this little mongrel to daycare and studying. I'm going to make stew or steaks for dinner, depending on how your meeting will go. So, call me later to let me know you seduced hundreds of money out of them, okay?”

Thor laughed again and lingered in the doorway. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Lo. You're truly the best.”

Loki shrugged with his free shoulder, fighting down the blush that was threatening to spread on his cheeks.

“Drive safely,” he said instead, holding on to the door handle as Thor smiled and butterflies rushed through his gut.

“You too,” Thor said back and leaned in, kissing Thrud's forehead and then leaving a soft peck on Loki's lips before he turned away and left.

Five steps down the porch he froze in his tracks. Realising what he had just done.

Loki stood equally still, Thrud slipping slowly downwards as she wiggled to be set free, wobbling her way further in the house to her toy box.

Thor's eyes were wide and terrified when he turned slowly to glance at Loki who was staring at him, eyes equally wide, mouth parted in surprise.

“Ahh, fuck it,” Thor cursed lowly and let his briefcase fall with a thud on the wooden boards. Turning fully, he made his way back to the front of the house decisively, reaching for Loki just as Loki was reaching out for him.

[sebsxphia]

Rhett fucking you absolutely senseless the night before he leaves for a rodeo so you send him a picture of him dripping out of you while in his favorite sundress the next morning

yes. yes. yes. yes. yes.

rhett would hate having to leave you so early in the morning for a weekend rodeo round trip, therefore he makes sure the night before he fucks you absolutely stupid and fills you up. it’s his way of leaving his mark whilst he’s away. you exchange soft kisses and gentle goodbyes in the early hours of the morning before you fall back asleep, wrapped up in one of his t-shirts on his side of the bed.

when you wake a couple of hours later, you can still feel the dampness between your thighs. it isn’t until you get dressed in his favorite sundress that your eyes go wide. you can feel him starting to drip completely out of you. you take a picture of your thighs spread, sundress hitched and his spend dripping out of you in front of your long standing mirror.

“miss you daddy 🥺 hope you arrived safely 💗”

two hours later once he’s parked up at the motel, he opens his phone to see the picture attached and lets out a low groan, before quickly replying back.

“such a messy little slut aren’t you? should keep u plugged up when i next go and keep u full of me ❤️ be a good girl and try to hold it in until i’m back, i want to taste myself. i’ll call u later baby ❤️”

he’s quickly jacking himself off in the motel room with his eyes glued to his phone <3

tee hee thank you so much for this incredible thot my love! 💌

[hoodharlow]

It Ain't Gonna Suck Itself

AN: I got thot thanks to @ghost-of-you . This ks gonna be set AFTER [redacted] so I won't have any mentions to it. Also gif credtis to Anna thank you for these 🥰🖕🏼🥰 also pretend Luke and Michael aren't there.

Requested? My coochie

Warnings: SMUT (what did you expect based on the title lmao)

Word Count: 1.7k words

They were having a lazy Sunday afternoon. Calum and Claudia hit up the farmer’s market early in the morning then they went to the Costco by Mission District and ate their weight in free samples. Claudia was now catching up on some grading while Calum was in the living room watching some soccer match and playing with Duke and Bali. 

By the time the soccer match reached half-time, their dogs got bored of Calum and went to nap in their designated beds, leaving him to entertain himself. He walked over to the kitchen to get a beer and snacks. He looked over to Claudia, who sat concentrated on the breakfast table, grading some quizzes she handed out in her class the Friday before. Knowing her, he knew she hadn’t eaten anything since they got back so he also fixed her a snack and made her an iced coffee. He set down her snack and drink, making her look up. 

“Thknas,” she said, stretching. She pushed herself up and pulled her legs up so that she sat criss-cross applesauce. 

“You almost done?” he asked her as he bent down to kiss her head. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, patting the small stack next to her. “I just have my sixth period left to grade.” 

“Hm,” Calum hummed in response before taking a sip of his beer. “What are you in the mood for dinner?” 

“Do we still have birria?” They went to visit her family in San Diego a few months ago and came back with a lot of leftover birria and frijoles charros. 

“No, we finished the last tub the other night.”

“Damn,” she frowned. 

“Wanna get Chinese from that one place a few blocks down?” he suggested.

“Oh that sounds good.” she nodded.

“Not as good as you, though.” he wiggled his eyebrows at her. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that and go back to my grading.” 

Claudia picked up her pen and went back to grading the unit 2 quizzes. Calum chuckled and went back to the living room. 

Every so often she would look over to him and glare at him. He didn’t say anything remotely sexual, and there she sat all hot and bothered. It also didn’t help that Calum was sitting with his legs spread open, leaning back. She tried her best to concentrate, but she couldn’t when he was basically begging her to suck him off. 

She put quizzes back in their designated folders and tossed her pens back in her pencil bag. She made her way over to Calum. She straddled one of his thick thighs and curled up against him.

“Hi,” she said quietly against his chest.

“Hey.” he grinned at her. “Are you done grading?”

“No, I wanted to take a break.” 

“Mhm.” 

Calum rubbed her back as they watched the last few minutes of the soccer match. Since she was only in his Nine Inch Nails shirt, it gave him easy access to touch her skin. He slid his hand up her shirt and rubbed her back. He felt Claudia press herself down on his thigh. She let out an almost inaudible moan and repeated her actions.

“Are you enjoying my thigh?” he asked her.

“Very much.” she nodded as she swayed her hips. 

Calum grabbed her left leg and brought it over to the other side on his thigh so that she was fully straddling his lap. She cupped his face and leaned down to him. Calum pushed her up so that his hands were on her ass. With both hands, he kneaded her ass and then pressed her down on the growing tent of his shorts. Claudia held his face as she leaned down to kiss his lips. They moaned into each other’s mouths as Calum kept moving Claudia’s hips on him. He held them in place and bucked his hips up for a different sensation. After what felt like an eternity, he finally let them go and wrapped his arms around her waist as they continued their makeout session.

“Can I suck your dick?” Claudia asked sweetly.

“I’m not one to oppose a blowie.” he said, making her giggle. 

Claudia got off his lap and kneeled on the rug. She sat on her knees and gathered her hair into a ponytail. She reached forward and palmed Calum through his shorts. He lifted his hips allowing her to pull them down along with his boxer-briefs. She grabbed them and tossed them aside, startling Duke and Bali. Both dogs, as if they knew that their parents were going to do the nasty, went upstairs. She turned back her focus on Calum.

She stared at his cock, dumbfounded. All and any thoughts she had exited her brain.  

“You know it ain’t gonna suck itself, Claudia.” Calum said in a bored tone. 

“Right, sorry…I just…” she trailed off.

“You what– fuck, Claudia.” Calum cursed when he felt her tongue circle around his tip. 

She spit on it and slowly jerked him off with both hands. She slipped him as far as she could take him. He let out an incoherent sound until she reached the back of her throat. She did it a few more times, egging him on. She pulled away, with a trail of saliva spilling from the corner of her mouth, and kissed down his length. 

“Calum,” she called to him in a soft voice.

“Yes?” He groaned. 

“Can you please fuck my face?” She leaned her head on his thigh and gently rubbed the other one. She met his gaze with a pout. “Please.”

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” He mumbled.

Calum moved to the edge of the couch and spread his legs more. He bent down and pulled her up her neck, claiming her lips with his. He let go of her neck and gathered her curls with one of his hands. She got on all fours, finding it more comfortable for her get her face fucked than kneeling. 

“Ready?” He asked her.

“Yes.” She nodded eagerly. 

“If it’s too much–”

“I know what to do.” She cut him off, rolling her eyes. “We’ve been over it hundreds of times.”

Calum didn’t bother to give Claudia a response. He tightened the grip around her hair and guided his cock back in her mouth. They moaned in unison. He slowly bobbed her head up and down his length, getting used to her mouth. She took him a little deeper each time. Several minutes passed and Calum began to thrust his hips up as he held Claudia’s head in place. In front of them was a full length mirror mounted on the wall. Calum noticed one of Claudia’s hands rubbing herself over her soaked through panties. He loosened his grip around her hair. 

“Take them off.” He motioned to her panties. “I wanna see you play with your pussy while I fuck your pretty mouth.”

Claudia nodded. She rolled over and tugged them off, getting back into the position she was previously in. She opened up her legs more so that Calum could get a better of her. She opened her mouth to him, letting him know they can continue where they left off. She whimpered in pleasure as he slid in her mouth once more. 

Calum’s grunts filled the living room, arousing Claudia as she rubbed her clit. She was pleasantly overwhelmed, but she needed more. So she inserted her ring and middle fingers inside of herself. She thrusted her fingers at the same pace Calum fucked her mouth. A hard smack on her ass, caught her off guard and brought her to her climax. 

Calum pulled her away from him, allowing her to fully come. She rested her head on the inside of his thigh. Her moans were raspy, almost inaudible. She pulled her fingers out and offered them to Calum. He gladly took them and licked them clean. He brushed back some of her curls, making her smile sheepishly. 

“We can stop here.” Calum said. 

Claudia shook her head. “I need you to fill my mouth." 

“Are you sure?" 

"Bro, I’m literally on my knees for you.”

“Alright.”

Calum leaned back and placed his hands behind his head, letting Claudia do her thing. Her soft brown eyes never left his as she took him back in her mouth. His stomach began to contract after a few bobs, letting her know that he was close. Slowly, she pulled him out of her mouth until only his tip rested on her tongue. She widened her eyes, making her look more innocent as she stroked him. 

“Fuck pretty girl, let me come on your face.” He murmured.

She nodded and sucked his tip one last time before jerking him off. She closed her eyes, not wanting to get his release on her eyes. Her friend Miriam told her the one time her boyfriend, Jack, got some on hers and Claudia rather not have that in her eyes. She felt warm streaks land on her cheek, sliding down her neck while Calum repeated her name as he came. 

Claudia sat back on her knees once Calum’s climax ceased. The light eye make up she wore from when they went out in the morning, ran down her flushed cheeks. Her lips were even more plump, swollen from them meeting the base of his cock every time he shoved her head down as he thrusted his hips up. Her hair clung to her neck thanks to Calum’s release and her sweat. 

“You okay?” Calum asked her, noticing her zoned out state.

“Yeah,” Claudia nodded. 

He slipped on his shorts and pulled Claudia to his lap. He reached over for the shirt she took off and cleaned her up, but the only thing that he did was spread his release all over.

“You’re spreading your jizz around.” she said, taking the shirt from his hand. “I’m gonna shower, so we can go get dinner.”

“Want me to join you?” he smirked.

“No, because you always wanna fuck me in shower. I don’t trust you ever since you dropped me at your best friend’s first wedding. Like I have fucking scar because of it.” she gestured down to her thigh where the thick white line ran across her thigh.

“Not my fucking faut you’re always so fuckng wet.” he shrugged.

“It kinda is, Cal, since you’re the one who makes me wet.”

Taglist: @in-superbloom @hoodhoran @aquarius-hood1996  @suchalonelysunflower @f-mu @another-lonely-heart @sunshinebabycal-deactivated2021   @calumscalm @karajaynetoday @cherryxcreme @ashtonsunflower  @idontneedanyone @findingliam-o @5-secondsofcolor @polycashton-deactivated20220117 @fckingpernico @2fangirl4u @calpops @stickerreds @whywontyoulovemecami​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @sensitivecth​