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A collection of Juliets
1. Claire Danes
2. Nailea Devora
3. Hailee Steinfeld
4. Condola Rashad
5. Olivia Hussey
6. Fumi Kaneko
#đ˘đ¸#claire danes#nailea devora#hailee steinfeld#condola rashad#olivia hussey#fumi kaneko#romeo and juliet#juliet capulet#film#theater#ballet
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you... you DO love me..?!
you love me...
you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me you love me YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME YOU LOVE ME
YOU LOVE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#yancore#yanderecore#yandere vent#platonic yandere#đ˘đ¸#ahhhhhahah aaaaaaahhhhh... is this heaven? a dream?#that had to be about me. i am the only one you say that about after all...#the only one... who understands you...#ahahahahahahahah...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#its got to be ITS GOT TO BE#ohhhh i feel sick in the best way possible.
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dedz
#qsmp#qsmp badboyhalo#qsmp bbh#qsmp fanart#art#đ¤âŕšŕŁ âart đ¤âŕšŕŁ â#đ˘đ¸#qsmp art#digital art#digital fanart#fanart#so bright an colorful and yet#itâs about death and shit#kinda like real life yâknow? full of bright colors but also kinda depressing#si lumineux et colorĂŠ et pourtant#câest une question de mort et de merde#un peu comme la vraie vie tu sais ? plein de couleurs vives et parfois encore dĂŠprimant
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Ëâ¡ ÍÍÍÍâł navigation
⢠Ë. about me
⢠Ë. rules
⢠Ë. requests
⢠Ë. masterlists
dividers by @saradika-graphics â§Ëâ・âĄ
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It's a pink feeling...
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°ââ.ŕłŕż*:シ
hi, i'm clementine. i'm 18, and an introject of c!tommyinnit from specifically the dream smp. i also have heavy connection to passerine : ) i have a lot of my sourcemates but i LOVE to meet more, anyone, seriously!! doubles are super cool : 3
i coin here, but i also make moodboards and icons and stuff :3 i'm transfemme & use she/any pronouns, but i have a label collection i'm workin on >:3c
please dni if any of the following applies to you; exclusionist, transmedicalist, pro-contact harmful paraphile (MAP/ZOO), trans-ID/trans-X, TERF/SWERF, you post gore, true crime community, anti good-faith ids (mspec lesbians, lesboys, etc) , fan of cc dream, cc wilbur, cc schlatt !!!!!!!!!!! if u interact u will be blocked
i'm autistic and am very awkward with socializing with anyone who isn't from my source >.< but i try super hard i promise, i also love taking requests for flags or moodboards, but i won't do requests for actual ccs, just not my jig sorry U_U other than that feel free 2 req and i mayhaps will get 2 it : D
#ac â@mourninglamby#đ¤Ł.đĽ§.đĄź.â#<- coining tag#đŕ ŹÜ#<- moodboard tag#đ˘đ¸#<- ask tag#ęŤÂ á´á
á´#<- unrelated tag#/#block if you need:#cwgore#cwbugs#cwdrugs#cwblade
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hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader
masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be â and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.
You canât even remember the last time you made a good decision.
Your track record definitely isnât the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasnât your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.
Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. Heâs the sort of guy who looks like an eight when youâre looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when youâre sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadnât been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girlâs candle wax.Â
No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you werenât stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.
So, yeah, youâve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly arenât about to start now.
You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once youâd gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasnât going to shake until you at least proved it couldnât be done.
The open garage at the back of the building doesnât help to deter you. Itâs like thereâs a welcome-mat outside saying, âCome on in and get what you deserve!â.
Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?
The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldnât be more tempting. If itâs locked, you tell yourself, youâll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing.Â
You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.
Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.
The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.
Even if you should be, you arenât in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure youâre getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if thereâs anyone in there at all. When youâve determined itâs unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.
You know youâre in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.Â
Bingo.
Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until youâre standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The doorâs handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook âem to get inside.
Youâre starting to understand where the rest of the universityâs funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is⌠excessive. Thereâs the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isnât enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.
You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isnât the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.
And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.
It doesnât take you long to find what youâre looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.
His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.
You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isnât intentional, but youâre writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, youâd never felt such satisfaction about â and certainly not from  â Lucas.
TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.
A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. Youâre expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if youâre extra unlucky.Â
That isnât the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, itâs at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhornâs football team.
Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. Youâve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know heâs a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.
He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.
âWhat exactly,â Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. âdo ya think youâre doinâ?â
Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesnât seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.
Joel shakes his head. âAinât a good look for you, hun, scrawlinâ that chicken scratch all over my QBâs jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.â
Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. âI can pay the damages,â you blurt out.
He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that youâre convinced that you just made up. âCan you, sugar? âCause to me, looks like youâre the type to be chasinâ tips at whatever joint hires you.â
You donât have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because heâs right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. âYou give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lilâ number jusâ because you found out Lucas really ainât that loyal?â With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining.Â
âWhatâs that sign over there say? âTreat women with respectâ?â You say. Joelâs backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. âYou know thatâs fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when heâs been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?â You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. âFuck right off with that.â
âHey, hey. Down, hun.â Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily youâve been breathing, just how close you are to him. âNever said you were wrong. Kidâs a fuck up in all sorts âa ways. But I donât like how youâre mouthinâ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didnât know any better, Iâd say youâre in dire need of a spankinâ to set you right.â
Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You donât need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.
Joel doesnât miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. âOh, yeah? That do somethinâ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.â Thereâs a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already.Â
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.
âNo,â you breathe out stubbornly, but youâve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.
Joel tuts. âYou really think that? You can whine all you want âbout wantinâ respect, but at the end âa the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?â And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. âIâll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but meâs gonna know you came pitchinâ a hissy fit in my locker room.â
You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joelâs eyes gleaming.
âOr,â he says. âYou can pull those wet fuckinâ panties down â donât gimme that look, I know they are â and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.â He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.
He knows he has you the same way you know, but you arenât just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, âIf thereâs nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?â
Heâs looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down.Â
âSweetness,â Joel shakes his head as if itâs obvious. âif you let me, I could make you feel good. Iâm guessinâ you got some vibrator sittinâ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommateâs out ân about, but you donât wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and Iâd give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.â
There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.
Youâre too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. âEager thing.â Youâre halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. âWhenever youâre ready, hun.â
You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. Itâs the furthest thing from erotic, but the way heâs looking at you isnât. Itâs primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how youâd even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. âLucas is a fuckinâ idiot, baby.â
âKnew that already,â you mumble.
He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. âCâmon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and Iâll only give ya five.â
You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. Heâs sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesnât take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever heâd like to; itâs a tantalizing feeling you hadnât gotten out of any intimacy â if you could call it that â with Lucas.
âMmmmmm,â Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You canât stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, âGoddamn, pretty cunt is throbbinâ for it.â
He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, itâs easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why youâre there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.
The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear youâre seeing stars. Joelâs quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. âThatâs one, baby.â You nod into your arms. âThink you can take four more?â Another nod.
âI need to hear ya, hun. Câmon, head up fâme.â He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. âThink you can take four more?â he repeats.
Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. âY-yesâŚâÂ
When the second hit lands, you donât expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. âYes, what?â
âYes sir,â you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.
âTakinâ it well,â he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. âSure didnât expect anyone to come crawlinâ in when I left that garage open, âspecially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankinâ six ways to Sunday.â Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you canât mind when it has you moaning all the same. âOh, she likes that,â Joel clicks.
He rubs your ass again, and youâre bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isnât coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body â and thatâs when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.
You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You donât even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, âRuttinâ against my fuckinâ leg, now, huh? Donât pretend you donât like this.â
With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell itâs huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. âYou got nothinâ to prove, ainât gonna change the fact youâre a slut who needs to get spanked ân stuffed to talk âer into behavinâ a bit.â
âCanât even follow your own rules,â you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee.Â
âDonât see how you careâŚâ Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump â a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. âwhen it gets you this turned on,â he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.
You sulk, âDonât act like I canât feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Millerââ
The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joelâs âfirm handâ. Itâs the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couchâs arm for purchase. You wail, âDaddy!â Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you mightâve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.
âDaddy, huh?â Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. âLucas your daddy, too?â
âNo!â You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joelâs pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head.Â
âStop makinâ a mess of daddyâs dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickinâ it up.â You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. âShoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.âÂ
Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, âOne more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?â
âY..yes daddy,â you whimper. He hums in approval.
You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come â and when it does, itâs softer. Itâs by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, âI know, I know. Poor baby, actinâ all high ân mighty. Canât be on her high horse when sheâs over Daddyâs knee.â Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. âSee? Not throwinâ a hissy fit anymore. Sheâs all nice ân obedient when you get âer to act right.â
Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. Youâve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.
âQuit your whininâ,â he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joelâs touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only heâs ever made you feel.Â
Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. âFuckinâ... tight.â Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. âThat the spot?â he asks, but he already knows.
âMhm,â you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure heâs giving you, as if youâd ever want to.
Then â he stops.
His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. âWhat the fuck, Joel?âÂ
"Baby, sâthat how you get what you want?â He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. âHelp daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with beinâ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."
Youâre putty in the palm of his hand â malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. Itâs crude, the way you moan for him.
Even though heâs hardly doing anything, just the hand youâre getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. âDaddy â close, pleaseâŚâ
 âAttagirl, atta-fuckinâ-girl, give it to me.â He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joelâs hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like youâve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. âYou come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.â
Youâre still reeling from the best orgasm youâve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, youâre about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.
âPlease fuck me, daddy,â you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.
âThereâs those manners,â Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell thatâs so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. Thereâs the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, youâre disappointed to find he hasnât even unbuckled his belt.
You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, youâre salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips.Â
âThink itâs only fair,â he says, looming over you. Heâs holding the Sharpie youâd brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. âIf I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.â His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.
Oh.
It shouldnât turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if itâs marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.
He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.
âHoly fuck,â you breathe out, because itâs the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become.Â
A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. âGotta make sure you match before I dick you down, donât I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? âWhoreâ? Between the two âa ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.â
If that wasnât enough indication, you figure out what heâs doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an âRâ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the âEâ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You donât think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.
âSee? Real whorish, fuckinâ my couch.â He taps your ass for good measure. âAsshole makes a perfect fuckinâ âOâ, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.â You think maybe, just maybe, heâll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.
When heâs content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. âYou let Lucas fuck that sweet lilâ cunt raw?â he asks.
âNo, I donât,â you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes donât even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how youâre going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.
âThought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?â
âYes, daddy,â you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel.Â
âGotta be a real nasty slut,â Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. âto let your ex-boyfriendâs coach bareback ya in the locker room.â A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you â his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.
âDaddy, please â I need it⌠need you to fuck me, fuck meââ
He doesnât make you wait any longer.
When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that youâre still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily.Â
âFuuuuck,â Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. âCould you be any goddamn tighter?â He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.
âBig,â is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him.Â
His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. âMmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.â With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.
âNever had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?â
âNâno! Never⌠never had my pussy stretched muâŚmuch at allââ
Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. âYeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doinâ it for ya, baby?â You donât answer, donât think heâs expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. Itâs not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. Itâs invigorating. Everything about him is.Â
Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, âNo daâ daddy! You â ah! â do it for mâme!âÂ
âAnd what do you say for that? For goinâ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?â
âThank you, Daddy!â you cry out. Youâre spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than youâve ever heard in porn.
His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.
âThere you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickinâ down, and a hand âround her throat to behave.â Joelâs pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. âShould keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen menâs loads are drippinâ outta your reamed fuckinâ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.â The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.
If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know youâll be coming. Youâre wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. âFuck, please, please, please,â you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.
âCan feel you squeezinâ me, baby.â Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. Itâs enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. âCâmon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.â
With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. Itâs all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until thereâs nothing left of it or you. Youâre a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur âthank you daddyâ like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.
Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand heâd been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. âThere it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettinâ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettinâ me use you. Iâm fuckinâ close, baby, where do you want me?â
And you want it even if you shouldnât, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. Youâre still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, âIâinside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.â
Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. âYeah, youâre a goddamn whore, begginâ for this cum. And youâre gonna fuckinâ take it, yeah⌠fuckinâ take it.â He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like heâs run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.
With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.
And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.
âWhat do you think youâre doinâ?â Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time heâd asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. âLet me clean you up, hun.â Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. âI know Lucas ainât done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.â Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldnât, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriendâs coach.
You shift, and he canât help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. âIâll be right back, baby. Promise.â
When heâs back, itâs with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch youâd been crying into just a few minutes ago.
Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy youâd lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. Youâd stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?
Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. âIâm sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.â He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. âI know this is in reverse ân all, but Iâd really like to take you out and treat you right, if youâll let me.â
Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.
#vetty's words đ˘đ¸#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller/reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller/f! reader#joel miller x you#joel miller one shot#joel miller fic
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đ˘đ¸ Red Dead Redemption II
(these are my gay dads btw).
#[âđ¸] â corus captures#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption#my captures#rdr2#rdr2 photography#arthur morgan#charles smith#charthur#my beloveds#sorry for being so inactive the past few weeks btw#im better now#I think#LMAO#[đ˘đ¸] â my rdrtwo
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Today is the first of August. It is hot, steamy and wet. It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: After a heavy rainfall, poems titled RAIN pour in from across the nation.
From 'The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath'
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you can't have two best friends, no, not with me. make the right choice, my dear - me, or her?
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đľ ă ŕš ăăIf I were you, I would care. ÍŕŞ.ăË
ă ă ăăâ â â â â â â ă
#đ˘đ¸ đŻđđđ đ ŕŁŞË ŕ˝ŕ˝˛ŕ˝ŕž#rei moodboard#ive moodboard#kpop moodboard#ive rei#ive#kpop#aesthetic#angelcore#pastel#messy layouts#aesthetic moodboard#gg moodboard#kpop layouts#beige moodboard#beige aesthetic#beige tones#Spotify#beautiful eyes#kitty cat#lamp#soulmates#beige messy moodboard#aesthetic layouts#gg layouts#tumblr layouts#cute nails#pretty nails#nails
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⢠Ë. about me
⤡ hi! you can call me goblin. my pronouns are she/her, iâm 22 yrs old and iâm currently in my last year of college. as of this year iâve started to gain back my interest in writing. iâm a pretty open person, so if you have any questions about me or just wanna chat, send me an ask or message! i love meeting new ppl and sharing my thoughts and daydreams. âËâĄâĄ
⤡ current obsessions: twd (the show and the spinoffs) twd comics, resident alien, the bear, the boys (and gen V), smiling friends, rick and morty, spider-man (the movies), wednesday, the last of us, game of thrones, house of the dragon, mindhunter, and more!
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aria aria aria
more tiger hybrid hyuka >///<
nsfw or sfw idc just tiger hyuka
LIAAAAA !!! i have so many thoughts dw babe tiger!hyuka lives rent free in my head rn (the thoughts in italics are recycled from the ask i sent lia here)
tiger!hyuka who preys on you - but not in the way you're thinking ok maybe kind of in the way you're thinking but i mean like ??? his eyes are always on you and like you can feel someone staring at you but you can't see him because he hides himself so well in his surroundings
tiger!hyuka who pounces on you when you're sat still for too long, or laid in bed chilling, but does the little butt wiggle that felines do before pouncing :(
tiger!hyuka who - like all tigers - prefers solidarity :( but that changes so fast when he meets you !! now he's inseparable from you, and can't understand why he enjoyed being alone so much now
tiger!hyuka who bounces into your room, showing off a bug he caught like prey - hes so proud that he caught it so you better give him praise !!
tiger!hyuka who sometimes forgets he can speak and often communicates through little vocalisations - purring or humming, even occasionally chuffing when he's particularly happy
tiger!hyka who enjoys going in walks to find fields with long, thick, wavy grass to play around in !! he enjoys sneaking up on you and scaring you playfully, and the wild vegetation only helps with that
tiger!hyuka who's an incredible swimmer, and can't help his instinct of jumping into any lake or river he can find - he loves playing in the water, especially after a day in the fields, so be prepared to have to carry spare clothes with you everywhere
tiger!hyuka who also uses signals a lot - scenting all your clothes and belongings so other hybrids know who you belong to >:( and through pawing/scratching !! so expect a lot of torn up cushions if u don't get baby hyuka a scratch post :(
tiger!hyuka who is a complete night owl - tigers usually hunt at night, and so his instincts just keep him up for so long !! he's usually pass the time by gaming, but sometimes he'll ask you to watch nature documentaries with him
tiger's mating patterns usually occur during november - april, so during these months be fully prepared for tiger!hyuka's breeding kink to go wild !! tiger's also usually have 2-4 cubs so be prepared for the chance of twins or triplets
tiger!hyuka who gets more aggressive/protective in an environment with more big cat!hybrids - specifically other tigers or lions
tiger!hyuka who spends a loooong time grooming himself each day !! his fur is his pride and joy, and he needs to keep it in tip top condition
tiger!hyuka who gets along most with bears, leopards and wolves because of his instincts, although these animals are more active in the day so there isn't much collaboration
tiger!hyuka who sleeps most of the day because of his nocturnal instincts, and you can usually find him dozing on the couch - especially if the sun is shining in on him
tiger!hyuka who left home young, because tiger's leave their parents' territory at a young age - and moved far away so the males in his family wouldn't think he was challenging them for their territory
(a/n: scheduled post!)
-> donât forget to reblog or comment if you like my works ⥠please refrain from modifying, translating, or copying my work. - Š mixtape-racha
tags âŽâË : @pretty-racha @demetrisscarf @bangtancultsposts @watariisbestboy @zuzuhasablog @kpopmenace143 @jeniihss
#âśââ aria's inbox#nightlyawnzz đ˘đ¸#aria talks ĘÉ#ria's mutuals âĄ#hyuka#hyuka hard hours#hyuka smut#hyuka x reader#hyuka hard thoughts#kai#hueningkai#huening txt#hyuka <3#tomorrow x together#kai kamal huening#huening kai#tubatu#txt x reader#txt fanfic#txt smut#txt fic#txt#txt hard hours#txt imagines#143 i luv queue âŽâË
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humble beginnings of something special âĄ
in hanging up all of my mori clothes i noticed have a LOT of lacey pieces and need more basic natural fiber pieces to contrast! >w<
#đ˘đ¸ my mori diary ËâšâĄ( ËáľË )âĄ.°â
#jfashion#j fashion#mori kei#mori girl#morikei#morigirl#mori kei fashion#mori style#mori fashion#mori#me#my pics#mori community#so much love to everyone<333
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