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t1red-twilight · 5 months

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tonguing down peter parker

summary: ushy gushy mushy loser makeout

content/warnings: gn!reader, mdni, andrew!peter, fluff, suggestive content, excessive macking (very excessive)

notes: um uh um NEXT QUESTION

word count: 1k

masterlist

peter’s favorite thing at the moment was making out.

so much so that he would come home from fighting crime and whatnot to just swap saliva with you.

he had no idea why this was the only thing that could seem to motivate him, he just couldn’t seem to get enough of you.

currently, he was at your apartment and you were both watching some sitcom rerun from the nineties.

but alas, not much of the show was actually being watched and absorbed.

you weren’t touching besides your lips, and my god, was he good at kissing. he was licking into your mouth with such an intense fervor that you couldn’t help but scoot closer to him ever so slightly. one of your hands was on your leg, which was bent, while the other was making small movements over to peter’s hand.

the small smacking sounds from your lips seemed to be deafening over the sound of the television. every now and then, you could hear him exhale rather strongly whilst you felt it on your face.

he reached over and grabbed your knee, attempting to urge your leg to straddle his waist.

evidently needing to get closer to you, he pulled away after pressing one short kiss into your mouth before asking, “please?” he then leaned back in to continue his ministrations.

his voice was both shrill and hoarse. his kisses then migrated from your lips to your jawline, and he was quickly making his way down to your neck. the breaths that you made caught his attention and he let out a chuckle as you left open-mouthed marks against your warmed skin.

“what?” you replied breathlessly. “do you want me to-” you trailed off, much too embarrassed to finish your question.

“oh god, yes please,” his easy pulling on your leg pursued. when you pulled away, a thin string of spit connected your mouths.

you decided that you too, had not had enough and you put your pressure onto your other knee to hoist yourself up before slowly placing your legs on either side of his torso. the breathless chuckle he breathed out against your neck did not go unnoticed. you did not, however, settle your weight onto him just yet.

he slid his hands underneath the oversized shirt that you were wearing and tried to pull you downwards. because you were so much higher up than him, he had to pull away from the column of your throat.

he continued to try and get you to relax against him. you had become too distracted by the blown out look in his eyes, the ruffled nature of his hair.

he settled for situating his head underneath your t-shirt and mouthing more kisses against you stomach. small traces of saliva were left in his wake.

he was always careful enough to only suck marks that would be covered by your shirt (ever such the gentleman).

he hummed into your skin, laid down another kiss, and whispered another plea.

“c’mon.”

it was soft, gentle, but nonetheless convinced you.

you settled down onto his lap, and he pulled out from underneath your t-shirt. he began leaving languid kisses along your neck again. the feeling of his hands splayed across your back would’ve been overwhelming in another scenario, but they felt just perfect for the time being.

peter was encompassing you entirely, and you had no problem with the line blurring between you two. there was no telling where he began and you ended, and vice versa.

you huffed out a jagged sigh. this had motivated peter to make his way back to your lips, and this he did.

he left tentative kisses wherever he went. he was always like this, subdued and sensitive. though, he was by no means shy.

when you were alone, something unleashed from him. something that never seemed to never stopped craving you. his thirst for you never satiated.

he moved his hands from your back to your waist, and pulled you closer. you abided and scooted as close as was humanly possible to him.

your hands were on either side of his face, your thumbs on the part of his cheek closest to his ear. you could almost hear his heartbeat; you were sure that he could hear yours (he had told you the benefits of his spider senses once, but you had been, um, preoccupied).

he pulled away and smiled at you, turning to leave a kiss on your palm before leaning back in.

“you taste good,” he said after saying your name.

you responded after kissing him one short time, “yeah?”

he didn’t respond vocally this time, opting to only answer with “mhm,” which you could feel the vibrations of.

the lewd wet noises emitting from your mouths should have been embarrassing, neither of you paid any mind.

every so often you would exhale out of your nose, which you’re sure he could feel against his cheek. “quit holding your breath,” he would sometimes say.

your knees were digging into the couch, so you adjusted yourself to avoid any further pain. this resulted in something that was a mix of a groan and a whine from peter.

his lips were very soft, and the feeling of his tongue inside your mouth felt foreign, but commonplace. he was always so gentle, and this was demonstrated by the way that he was licking in short motions in your mouth.

this time, you were the one to part from him. you began leaving kisses from his cheek to a spot behind his ear. your efforts demonstrated to be successful, as the noises leaving peter’s mouth were nothing short of blissful.

eventually, he pulled your face away from his neck and guided it back to his own.

his hands had migrated to your back again, and yours to his. you thought that you might have felt him scratching into your skin, but you weren’t too sure. you’d be able to tell later in the mirror.

in the background, the tv had begun to play a commercial for some erectile dysfuntion drug. the irony of this was not lost on either of you. you disconnected and laughed hoarsely.

later you realized that you had hickeys that expanded across your belly.

#lee’s writing <3 #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield!peter #andrew garfield!peter x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman #x reader #fluff

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lesbiansfor-blackbeard · 2 months

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because wymack is the one you call when you're just lost and you don't know what else to do

we know neil calls from the airport but he also calls from the mall, when teammates have dragged him out after andrew has graduated and there are too many people and he just wants to go home

kevin calls many times his first year out of school, alone, standing in the liquor aisle of the grocery store and just needing to hear that he still matters

seth would have called after he found out his wife was pregnant and he runs out the door. he calls wymack from his car in some parking lot and gets an earful and a game plan

maybe jean calls when he can't get a hold of kevin and hes spiraling. wymack doesn't let him hang up until jeremy is sitting next to jean and wymack has found kevin

dan calls after her aunt shows up. she has a spine she built herself, and wymack reminds of her of that. he reminds her that yes, she has a soft spot and wants to help, but that he wouldn't have made her captain if he didn't have faith in her ability to stand up for the foxes. and he reminds her that she is a fox as well.

renee just calls to talk. she calls because she worries about wymack as he gets older. she calls after her mom passes away. she calls just to keep in touch.

allison rarely calls. she sees him on holidays and misses him but she finds it hard to keep in touch. one morning a scandal breaks: a gossip site has found allison with her girlfriend. it's too soon, she didn't want everyone to know. and that's the face she puts on publicly, but the morning it breaks she calls wymack just to sit, and to remember the family she was and is a part of that will always have her back

andrew calls because he misses wymack but her never admits it. like neil, wymack was the first man who let him be safe, who listened as he crashed through his meds and let him be himself one night a week and believed in him. andrew calls to say nothing, but that's okay because wymack doesn't know what to say either.

it takes aaron a while to call. he liked wymack, sure, but he always knew his brother was the first choice. it's actually wymack that calls first after aaron graduates medical school with a "congratulations" and an "I knew you could do it" aaron starts sending pictures and videos of his daughters and he even tries to get the original foxes organized for a meet up once a year

nicky calls just to say hi, much like renee. but many years after they've all graduated he calls, and thanks wymack for gluing his family together when he was coming apart at the seams to keep his cousins from drifting.

matt calls after his first kid is born. "I don't want to be like my father" and wymack is a little taken aback because he has a hard time seeing how matt and his father are even related and eventually matt says "I want to be you." and wymacks heart heals a little when he hears that because he is so unlike his own father that one of his foxes wants to be like him

this got a little off topic but I love post-uni foxes

#aftg #all for the game #aaron minyard #jean moreau #neil josten #kevin day #andrew minyard #renee walker #allison reynolds #nicky hemmick #seth gordon #matt boyd #dan wilds #david wymack #anyway #this is my dissertation apparently

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andy-clutterbuck · 2 years

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Penguin Bloom (2021)

#BIG SOFT DILF ENERGY #Andrew Lincoln #*#Penguin Bloom #where had andy in sweatpants been all my life before this?#how did i cope #Sugarbutt 🍑💖#A HENLEY #THE MOST POWERFUL OF SHIRTS #excuse me sir please put your forearms away thank you #his B A C K #why are backs attractive call bill nye i need science #got your leg right up there my dude #the domesticity soothes this savage beast #actually it makes me feral but you know what i mean #.....im not sure i know what i mean but still

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joeloverture · 8 months

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morning cardio | dbf!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | updates blog pairing: dbf!neighbor!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] your neighbor and dad's longtime buddy catches you sneaking back home after an underwhelming hook-up. you want more — he provides. warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!neighbor!joel, age gap (23/50), reader has a bad relationship with her father, reader's father is overly strict, reader hooks up with an oc, dirty talk, soft!dom joel, degradation, praise, thigh riding, 1 spank, titty slapping, daddy kink, exhibitionism but nobody sees, almost caught, heavy petting, misogyny for sexiness that joel doesn't actually believe in since he's a sweetheart [no use of y/n] word count: 3.7k a/n: watch me almost exclusively post dbf joel. watch me. also, mind the tags, they've changed slightly since i posted the teaser. this was supposed to be a series. this is no longer the case bc i'm indecisive. sorry.

Mistake number one: your eyes are crusted shut with the mascara you’d forgotten to wipe off.

Mistake number two: the bed you wake up in is not your own.

Mistake number three: sleeping with your neighbor.

Rubbing your mascara-sealed eyes, you blink yourself into consciousness and instantly regret it. There’s a moment of stillness, time stretching as you take in the room underneath the swelling orange sunlight. The window is cracked just enough to give you a glimpse at the world outside — birds chirping, sprinklers spritzing, cars crunching gravel as they pull out of the driveway. Surrounding the narrow, rumpled bed is a graveyard of orphaned socks. A box fan whirrs in the corner. The room had felt much cleaner past midnight when it was only the yellowed street lamp outside shining through the window. Then you spot the digital clock on the cluttered bedside table reads 6:10, ten minutes later than you’d wanted to be awake for, and time returns to its regular pace.

Your heart kicks awake in your chest, veins going cold. You kick the sheets off of your sweaty body, roll out of bed, and stumble two steps before planting your feet on the carpet below. Even that isn’t enough to stir your hookup. Dylan Andrews.

It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Both of you were home for spring break. Both of you had flirted at the block party with each other. He was only decent-looking and mediocre with his hands, but you needed a break from spending another night in your childhood bedroom. What better way to do it than with a dick appointment?

Again. It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Sneaking out underneath the nose of your strict, tough-as-nails dad was the easy part. Sneaking back in? Less easy. And to make matters worse, you were already ten minutes behind.

Shit.

You tiptoe across the room, naked as the day you were born, and stuff your underappreciated lingerie into your backpack. Without even putting your panties or bra on, you hop into your shorts and wrestle with your hoodie. By the time you’re out of Dylan’s room, it’s 6:12.

The difference between your dad and Dylan’s mom? She doesn’t give a shit what side of town Dylan wakes up on or how much alcohol is sloshing around in his system as long as he’s safe. You’re not the first girl to do the walk of shame out of Ms. Andrews' generic McMansion house, and you’re far from the last.

She’s downstairs in front of the coffee maker, still wearing her pajamas and doing a Dollar General crossword when you slip past her kitchen unnoticed. The door clangs shut behind you, and you figure she must see you walking down the cul-de-sac.

Your dad always leaves for work at 6:45 after a freezing cold shower and a steaming cup of black coffee for balance. You can only hope his shower ran a little late and that he isn’t at the dining room table already. Cramming two steps into one, you continue with your beeline down the awakening street.

You’re followed home by the mailboxes and flower beds, the pebbles you kick with every step. You’re almost to the property line, prepared to make a mad dash to your front door when you hear the faint call of your name. You skid to a stop, and turn to face the source: the craftsman-style house next door.

And there he is – Joel Miller, sitting on one of the cushioned chairs of his front porch in nothing but his sleep shorts and a t-shirt, legs spread as wide as the chair can accommodate. There’s a smug, knowing look on his face, one that says I’ve caught you. See how you can get out of this.

It’s been a long time since you’ve been face to face with Joel — Mr. Miller. You’d think you’d see him more often, with him being your dad’s buddy and your neighbor, but it’s been since summer. You’re sure he must be having the time of his life by joining your just got laid parade.

“You’re up awful early,” he calls, beckoning you up the driveway with a come-hither movement of his fingers. Leaving your dignity at the curb, you pad up the yard to his porch, climbing one of the stairs to lean against the gutter that feeds into his shrubbery. Pollen and moss is scattered across the wooden deck, surrounding a package that he hasn’t bothered to pick up yet. His guitar is off to the side, propped up against the doorway of the house. You wonder if he’d been playing when he’d seen you walking by.

Joel’s covered for you before, briefly and sparingly. Taken the fall for the half-empty bottle of fireball in your dresser even though he’d never go within ten feet of that shit, blamed it on himself for accidentally leaving it behind after fixing a wheel that had jumped off track for you. Even though your dad had chewed him out for drinking on the job, he’d still managed to sneak it back to you with the wise words of hiding it in a sock next time. You’d been two months past your twenty-first when that had happened, and maybe Joel had pitied you after realizing how authoritarian his friend was.

You aren’t as sure if he’ll pity you now.

“Needed some fresh air,” you defend lamely, hands hanging limp by your sides.

“Needed some cock?” he corrects, and his bluntness makes you choke. He seems relaxed for the words that just came out of his mouth, fingers drumming on his impossibly large thighs, a playful smirk resting on his lips.

You sputter, “No! Jesus, what the hell–”

“I got eyes, hun. Saw you leave that Andrews kid’s place. Clearly he didn’t stick it to ya that good if you’re still walkin’ steady,” he comments. His head tilts.

“Joel,” you hiss, eyes flitting to your dad’s house next door. He seems to read your mind, his smirk widening.

“Wonder what your pops would think. Bet I have a pretty good idea. His little angel, sneakin’ around and whorin’ herself out.” He clicks his tongue at you. “A damn shame.”

Heat spools low in your stomach and down to your unsatisfied center. You wish you’d worn darker colored shorts instead of the flimsy gray things you have on. There’s no barrier of your panties to stop yourself from leaking all over them, and with the way Joel’s looking at you, eyes dark and sly, you’re wishing there was.

“Can’t even imagine what you’re gettin’ up to at that college ‘a yours. Bet you had five guys inside of ya all at once, and I sure ain’t talkin’ about burgers, hun.” He lounges back in his chair, watching you.

You feel yourself gush. Heat burns in your thighs, and they rub together on instinct, seeking to extinguish that brimming ache between your legs. You bunch your hands in the fabric of your sweatshirt and can’t stop yourself from squirming underneath his gaze. It’s not like you’ve never thought about this, this with him of all people when you’re underneath your covers and your hand finds the warm junction between your thighs. Always unattainable. Always just out of reach.

You whisper again, “Joel,” but this time, it comes out as more of a moan. Humiliation warms your cheeks and chest, forming a different kind of pit in your stomach.

“Hmmmm?” Joel hums at you with a raised brow. He’s casual, indifferent, almost. But then his eyes flicker up and down, stopping at the wet patch smeared across the front of your shorts, the way your thighs press tight, tensing before letting go. “Ah. A little slut shamin’ gets you all riled up, hun?” That tears a whimper from you. He does that stupid come hither motion again, and like a lost dog, you listen. Standing in front of him, you feel completely, utterly exposed.

He adjusts himself in his chair, and you swallow the building lump in your throat when you see his bulge hardening. It sends another zap of heat to your core, and then another, more surprised one when his hand goes up to grab at your tit. Your breath catches as he thumbs one of your hardened nipples. A triumphant noise echoes out of him. “Braless, too?” His other hand goes down to your shorts, playing with the waistband. “Prancin’ around in these short, skimpy things, too. Practically giving the whole neighborhood a free peep show.”

His hand slides lower. Lower. Pans over to the crease of your thigh and then his thumb is planting over your clit, rubbing only once before he pulls away. “Messy pussy. Bet you stained the guys sheets.”

You’re quiet, staring at him, his wicked fucking expression, those hands that look like sin itself. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Ah. Poor baby. All this effort and you didn’t even get to come.” He just looks at you. Unmoving. Not doing a single damn thing to get you there.

“Please, Joel,” you whisper, embarrassed by the gritty need already embedded into your voice when he’s hardly even touched you.

And he’s still wearing that wolfish look, that tainted-with-intention gleam in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what you do want when he asks, “What? What do you want?” He licks his lips, a fleeting moment.

You look over your shoulder, at the rising street. Anyone could have their windows cracked. Anyone could hear you confess on this porch. Still, you murmur, “I… I want you to make me come, Joel.” Your voice shivers a little bit along with the stroke of wind that wisps against the backs of your thighs.

His brows raise together, now. His head tips forward. “What was that? A little louder. You know, my ears really ain’t the sharpest these days…”

Fucking bastard.

“I want,” you say again, fighting to stop your voice from wavering, to keep it not too loud but not too quiet. “you to make me come.”

Joel sucks on his teeth for a second. “Ohhh. Now I don’t think that’s really fair, hun.” He gives you a mockingly sad look.

“Why?” you ask, and you know you sound as whiny as a petulant child. But he’d been correct earlier. You put in all of this effort, sneaking out for a thrilling night that had turned into something more like two sweaty bodies moving together and only one of them feeling good from it. You want to feel good. You’re tired of looking at the right and the wrong. Joel’s sitting in front of you, his thumb still smelling like your arousal; that’s what’s right.

“You’re out here breakin’ all the rules. Shouldn’t be rewarding you for that, sweetheart. Besides, it’s a little fucked up, dontcha think? Makin’ you come all over me while your pops, my buddy, is none the wiser gettin’ ready for work next door?” His vulgarity only weakens you even more, pussy clenching and begging to be filled. You’re about to protest again when he cuts in, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help ya out.”

Your heart pedals in your chest, eager and wanting. But Joel, instead of getting up and elbowing you inside like you expect, stays right where he is. He pats one of his splayed thighs, the grin on his face only widening. Your face contorts. Joel hears your question before you ask.

“What? Never humped someone’s leg before? With how much of a bitch in heat you’re actin’ right now, I’m surprised.” You can feel the shock on your face plain as day. Joel jerks his head down to his thigh, egging you on. “Better hurry up if you want my help, sweetheart. Pretty sure your dad’s about to get goin’, and I sure don’t have all day, either.”

The rapidly shrinking part of yourself that isn’t consumed with desire tells you to take a step back. That anyone, God forbid, even the Adlers across the street could witness this. Talk about a free peep show.

You think of the alternative: sneaking back into your house with a hope and a prayer that your dad won’t find you, backpack over your shoulder and shoes on, as you climb the stairs back to your bedroom. Open up your Joel-advised dresser drawer of things your dad says you shouldn’t have and pull out your vibrator. Do the same old hassle of a routine, desperately trying to make yourself come. Reach an unfulfilling peak.

Or… take what Joel’s offering you. Risks and all.

You take a tentative step forward, glaring at Joel when he chuckles because of your hesitance, and plop yourself down on his thigh. The pressure against your clit immediately pulls a whimper from you. His big hands fix themselves on your hips, holding tight, but not too tight as to hold you captive against him. There’s still the faint existence of the Joel you’ve always known, considerate and sweet and all southern gentleman, that exists behind the guise of his dominance.

You nestle your head into the crook of his neck, breathing heavy against him as you get a slow start to grinding your hips on his thigh. Although your movements are tentative, uncertain in nature, your head is already going fuzzy.

“Bet you’re only this wet cause that boy already put a new load in your dishwasher.” You scoff at him in disbelief — both at how much more wet it gets you, and how foul his words are. He chooses then to jerk you forward by the hips. You cry out as your pussy drags along the thick expanse of his thigh, clit catching on the bunched up fabric of your rumpled shorts.

“Zip it, you fuckin’ hussy. Ain’t a damn soul in this neighborhood that wants to wake up to you sobbin’ while gettin’ off on this thigh.” One of his hands drifts back to squeeze at the flesh of your ass. You hear the spank before you feel it, a sting that echoes and sticks right between your legs. He’s effortlessly strung a barbed wire of humiliation around your body. The lack of power makes your thighs clamp down around his, and you can’t tell if you crave more of it or despise it.

Unable to decide which, you loudly, exaggeratedly moan into his ear, still rocking down on his lap. It resounds through the neighborhood, the springboard roofs ricocheting you coquettish noises down the street and through the flowerbeds. A spooked crow lifts off of the power lines behind you, and you hear it squawk as its wings beat and carry it away.

Joel cocks his head at you, brow raised. “So it’s not just your legs that have a problem stayin’ shut. It’s your nasty mouth, too.” His hands migrate up your sides to your tits, which jostle with every flighty movement across his thigh. Before you know what he’s doing, he tweezes at your nipples in a way that makes you melt into him, forehead falling flat against his neck. And then he lands a hard smack across your chest, pleasure with a bite. Your hips jolt. “Behave for daddy before I make you walk next door draggin’ a snail trail behind ya.”

You know he doesn’t mean your real dad. A new rush of heat settles in your stomach, tightening your cunt from an ache to an insatiable thrumming that only Joel can solve. “Fuck,” you almost shout, but end up muffling into his skin with an open-mouthed kiss. He sighs, adjusting under you. The change in angle on your clit makes you whimper, especially when you feel his hardened length smushed against the outside of your thigh.

Your hand goes down to grip it, to participate in the push and pull, the cat and mouse, but he shakes his head, pulling it out of the way. He holds you by the small of your back, urging you to keep rubbing on him. “You’re lucky I’m even givin’ you my thigh,” he spits. “Ain’t gonna let you play chutes and ladders tryna make me come when I know damn well where that hand was last night.”

“Daddy,” you pout at him, lower lip jutting out.

He only shakes his head. “Don’t start.”

Whining in agitation, you manage to school yourself into behaving like he’d told you to. Every grind of your hips welcomes pleasure, beckons it, activates the porch light inside of you that invites it inside. You go limp against Joel as he guides you back and forth, and even limper when he tightens the muscle underneath your soaking core. Your hands anchor themselves on his broad shoulders, nails carving into his skin through the flimsy material of his shirt. He hisses underneath you, a break in his seemingly titanium resolve. You feel yourself getting closer, heat wreathing around your stomach, cunt clenching.

In your house, the foyer light flickers on.

Your hips stall over Joel’s as you see your dad’s backlit silhouette moving around in the foyer. Likely sliding on his shoes, patting his pockets for his wallet and his work phone…. You have two minutes at best.

Joel’s eyes follow your distracted line of vision. His amused chuckle warms the back of your neck. “Oughta hurry up if you don’t wanna get caught. Your old man would be in for a rude awakening, headin’ to work and finding his precious little girl fuckin’ my leg like a whore,” he murmurs.

He bounces his leg underneath you, and you bite back the needy cry that threatens to slip out. It feels so good, too good for you to think about anything other than the haze of arousal and pleasure that hovers over your head like a perpetual fog. You return to grinding down on him, hips pumping with a greater, renewed speed. “Attagirl,” Joel croons at you, and the hand at the small of your back presses harder, pushing you up and down his thigh.

Short, strained breaths of yours meet the morning air, eyes pinned on the rectangular window. It’s a golden-washed reminder of how wrong this is. Your dad would blow a gasket, see red, breathe fire at you if he knew exactly what was happening just a few feet away from his front yard.

But you forget all about that when Joel’s calloused fingers cup your chin, nudging you to look at him. His eyes are all pupil, darkened with something like starvation, something like want. “Don’t look at him. Look at me,” he coaxes, and he bounces his thigh again.

You’re close, you can feel it. He can feel it, too, in the way that your thighs fasten around his, your cunt rocking on him as your fervor makes the whole front porch shake and shudder. Tossing your hips back and forth, you wanted it, but now? Now you need it. Your stomach tightens, your legs shivering below you as your cunt gushes all over both of your shorts. “That’s it, baby, come on me like you were beggin’ to. ‘S alright, nice and easy for daddy, mhm?” He tenses his thigh one final time, and you lurch over that edge. “Gooood girl,” he hums as your cunt flutters against his leg. “You’re a daredevil, aren’t you?” he asks, jerking his head toward your house.

You figure you must be, after what you just did.

You’d planned on staying there, riding it out and trembling against his warm chest. But the garage cranks open. You jolt off of Joel’s lap, damn near teleporting across the porch with how fast you move. Joel smirks at you, crossing his unfucked leg over his freshly fucked one, where you’d rubbed your cum all over his skin until it’d glistened. The sight warms your stomach all over again, but it doesn’t last – nerves spasm in your ribcage as your dad ducks out into the driveway.

You fumble with your shorts, pulling them down and crossing your hands in front of the obvious stain on the gray fabric. Your dad squints across the yard, cupping a hand over his eyes. “Miller?” He calls your name shortly after, and you straighten. “You’re up early, kiddo.”

You open your mouth, on the precipice of a lie that you know won’t be good. It’ll come out unsteady, dishonest, and uneven.

Joel points at the package at the foot of his doorstep. “My toolbox got sent to yours,” he explains. “Damn postal. ‘Bout as good as the Boston Post Road these days. But your kid’s got me covered. Raised her right.”

For the second time, Joel Miller covers for you. You have no idea where this leaves you, standing under your dad’s scrutinizing gaze. With your cum cooling and sticking to your folds the same way it’s cooling and sticking to his leg, Joel knows your secret. And he’s keeping it.

Your dad only gives a shallow nod, looking between the two of you. “Well,” he hooks a hand back at his truck. “I gotta head off to work.” He shifts on his feet, this time pointing to you. “And you head back inside, kiddo. Too early for you to be up and movin’.” Of course it is.

You stare at the ground, the pollen and stray leaves below your feet. Finally, you settle on a nod. Shallow and halfhearted, much like his. Your dad, satisfied, retreats back into the garage. You hear the truck engine come to life.

“You heard the man,” Joel says. You tighten your fists, moving to step away, but the way Joel’s eyes glimmer has you loitering. He lowers his voice. “See you soon, daredevil.”

That damned nickname. “How do you know I’ll be back?” you retort under your breath.

He shrugs. “I’m sure there’ll be more… ‘packages’.”

You blame the heat in your body on the rising sun, sweat clinging to the back of your neck as you plod off through the front yard. There’s only one thought in your head as your dad pulls out and you close the garage. Mr. Miller can’t happen again.

Mistake number four: thinking you’re telling the truth.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic

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strangerstilinski · 10 months

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sharing a stiles thought i keep thinking bc brainrot and sharing bc you’d appreciate it

he would beg you to do the spiderman kiss and immediately fall as soon as it actually happens

i know this wasn't technically a request of any sort but oh boy did it tickle at the nearly nonexistent inspiration in my brain, so.. here we are. just a very short fluffy little thing that made me feel all warm inside. x

You tug at the sleeves of your sweatshirt in an attempt to cover your cold knuckles as you take an overly-cautious step out onto your front porch, hugging one arm around your ribs as a shiver wracks your body all while your grip tightens around your cell phone.

“Stiles, if this is one of your jokes-” A sigh escapes you, a wispy cloud of fog pushing past your lips as you look around for your boyfriend. There's a familiar blue jeep parked at the edge of your driveway, but the owner doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. You tut softly into the phone, “I think your pranks are cute, baby. Really, I do, but I need to study-”

Your socked feet carry you that much farther outside, shuffling slow across the smooth planks of wood underfoot while you cautiously scour the yard for his familiar figure.

“I'm right-” There's a scratchy crackle against the speaker just as you hear a scuffle from somewhere to your left. Stiles' yelp meets your ears twice, once from the dark emptiness at the edge of the porch, and then again half a second later through the phone.

It's just as you're just stepping up to the edge of the porch, hand falling to grip the railing as you squint into the darkness, when something drops down from above and makes you flinch back with a small scream.

“Here!” Stiles grins, the momentum of his body still making him sway forward and backward for a moment as he hangs upside down in front of you. He's dangling from the roof overhanging the porch, his torso curled around the edge in a way that can't possibly be comfortable, but he's grinning like he couldn't be more pleased with his current position.

“Stiles!” You scold, reining in the urge to punch his shoulder and instead redirecting the motion to simply grip at his biceps when he reaches out for you. The slow motion of his swinging slows under your steady hold, “Are you insane? You're banned from climbing on the roof! We- We have talked about this-”

“Neh, eh, eh,” He interrupts with a goofy grin, “The rule was that I can't climb on Scott's roof-”

While you don't remember the specifics, you have no doubt that your boyfriend would have been clever enough to worm some sort of loophole into his previous promise. Your nose scrunches up in annoyance while your heart continues thumping wildly in your chest, both from the scare and from the panic pooling in your gut as you watch your boyfriend shuffle and slip another inch or so over the edge of the roof.

“Sti, babe, please,” You whine anxiously, fingers digging into his arms a little meanly, “Stop moving around, alright? You're going to fall!”

“I'm not gonna fall,” Stiles rolls his eyes and he reaches a hand out to brush against your cheek, his pinky brushing the apple your cheek as his thumb presses lightly into your jaw, “Come on, don't you wanna know why I'm up here?”

You sigh softly, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips while you release him with just one hand so that you can run your fingers through his floppy hair where it hangs loosely beneath his head. Your hand scrapes lightly though the soft strands, your cheek pushing imperceptibly into the warmth of his palm.

“Why are you on the roof, Sti?” You ask begrudgingly.

“Spiderman.”

“Spiderman?” You repeat slowly.

“Spiderman!” Stiles grins, “You know, the first one. The Raimi one-”

“Like.. Andrew Garfield?” You clarify with furrowed brows.

“What?” Stiles scoffs, “No! Toby Maguire! Baby, we watched them together-”

He looks appalled, mouth gaping just slightly in incredulity.

“Well, we watched the Andrew Garfield ones together too-” You defend with a small laugh, amusement filling your chest at just how worked up he seems to be getting by your mistake.

“The first one!” Stiles repeats in a huff, “Because that's the one where it's raining and he saves MJ and he's hanging upside-down in the alley and she pulls his mask down to kiss him as a thank you-”

“Ooh, a wet, New York City alleyway,” You tease, “How romantic.”

Stiles groans woefully, “This was supposed to be romantic. You are totally ruining this for me, right now, you know-”

His words do make you feel a little bad. He'd clearly put some thought into the idea. He'd climbed all the way up onto the roof of your porch, though you're still not quite sure how — there's no ladder in sight.

You plaster a sweet smile on your lips, slipping your feet up onto the rung at the bottom of the railing to boost you up another few inches, until your nose is level with Stiles' chin.

“I'm sorry, Stiles,” You murmur softly, chin tipping toward your chest so you can look into his eyes, “You wanted a big, superhero movie kiss?”

His adam's apple bobs when he swallows, his body reacting naturally to the familiar teasing lilt in your voice, “Uh huh.” He nods.

“Well gee,” You sigh wistfully as you drag a finger up the side of his cheek in a slow trail toward his mole-speckled neck, “You are awfully brave for climbing up there. And you did do it with the intention of wooing me..” Your teeth pull lightly at your lower lip and his eyes track the movement, “Maybe I could show you just how brave and sweet I think you are. Maybe.. I could show you how grateful I am, that you were willing to risk getting hurt for me.”

Stiles is nodding along, eyes wide with anticipation and cheeks flushed dark from a combination of your words and the blood rushing to his head in his current position, “Yeah.” He rasps weakly.

Your fingers curl around the back of his neck, your lips catching against his in just a light brush of skin, teasing. His lips part beneath your own and your warm breath mingles in the narrow space, the scent of spearmint overtaking your senses for a moment.

The hand on your cheek drags you closer in a gentle nudge as he grows impatient, and your mouths meet in a slightly awkward press of lips. Something about the new angle with such a familiar action scratches at the back of your brain, and you tilt your head just slightly when your mouths separate and rejoin only a second later.

Stiles presses his thumb softly into the hinge of your jaw in a silent request for you to open your mouth, his tongue catching on your lower lip before pressing inside and meeting your own.

Your tangle your fingers in the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Another wet peck to his lips has him shuffling forward to chase your mouth the moment you ease back, and he seems to slip just a little further over the edge of the roof.

“Careful.” You warn softly.

“'m always careful.” Stiles whispers, his upturned nose pushing into your jaw as he kisses you again.

You lean back after allowing him another moment of indulgence. Stiles seems to follow the movement again, pitching forward as you go back like you're two magnets, but this time around he slips just a bit too far to allow for recovery. You can only watch on with wide eyes while he comes tumbling down from the roof and crashes into the bushes below with a small scream.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, leaning over the railing to watch your boyfriend roll into the grass with a groan, “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” Stiles manages weakly, voice hoarse.

“You sure about that, Spiderman?” You tease hopefully as you watch him drag himself to his feet, brushing himself off to free the small bits of branches and leaves and dirt that are now clinging to his clothes.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, “Yeah, 'm good.”

“Good,” You grin, beckoning him closer when he finishes ridding himself of yard debris and meets your eye, “You should get yourself a mask though. I hear masked superheroes tend get more than just kisses and I have to admit, I think it's kinda hot-”

“Noted,” Stiles agrees with wide eyes, tripping over his own feet and the porch stairs as he rushes toward you, “Fucking- Shit, I am so on it.”

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keerysfreckles · 8 months

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Okay hi I don’t know if I’m doing this right and this is how you rqs something, I saw your cry for help for a luke Castellan fic,

could I pls request something like a daughter of Poseidon reader and her and Luke have been friends for years but haven’t never really seen each other as more than that until some guy starts to hit on her and Luke gets jealous asf and then the Luke starts a fight with him because he said something nasty about reader, and rewarded gets pissed off that Luke’s fighting and it’s super angsty and jealous and they fight and make up and realise their feelings and maybe a kiss?????

Hope that wasn’t too long xx

someone gets hurt — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x poseideon fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, a couple swear words, character sexualizing reader

a/n: GETTING THE HOO BOOKS TOMORROW!!!!!!!!

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

"again!"

the sound of swords clanging against each other echoed in the empty field and through the forest.

"luke, how many more times do we have to do this?" y/n was out of breath. her right hand was red from gripping her sword too hard for the past hour, her hair has been tied back by now, and sweat coated her cheeks and arms.

"no offence, but your dad is into water, not swords," luke responds.

"what? you're saying i'm not the best swordsman in camp?"

luke chuckles, "obviously, because i'm here."

y/n only laughs at his response.

"swordswoman."

"what?" y/n's more than confused.

"you wouldn't be the best sowrdsman at camp. swordswoman would be the correct term."

instead of responding y/n shoves her sword inbetween luke's wrist and hip, skillfully pushing her own sword to make his fall to the ground.

"yeah, yeah, miss one time champ. go get some water," luke laughs.

"you know, after being your friend for so many years," y/n starts, but takes another sip of water as luke walks over to the bench she's sitting on. she continues, "you would think i'd learn your fighting patterns, and actually beat you for once."

"that's the thing y/n. my fighting strategies always change. once you find them out, they'll just change again," luke replies.

"you ready to go again?" luke asks for a few minutes, letting the girl have time to rest.

y/n nods, and gratefully takes luke's hand to help her up off the bench. she walks over to the dirt area with a slight limp. luke had cut her leg earlier, on accident of course, and y/n insisted she was fine. after pouring half her water bottle on it, there was nothing more than a light scar. however it still hurt.

"wow! with a limp like that, you'd think i was with her all night!"

corey andrews stepped into the clearing of the woods, with his ares brothers right beside him. ever since he got to camp a year ago he'd been harassing y/n. he always found a way to call her out in front of others. and it made y/n's blood boil.

she was about to walk over to the idiotic camper and punch him, but luke grabbed her wrist.

"leave it," his voice was soft, yet firm.

y/n gives in, and goes back to sword fighting with luke. the pair ignore corey and his friends.

corey on the other hand dislikes the silence. he walks over to y/n's side, and pokes her in the sides. it causes her to let out a small shriek and drop her sword.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" she turns and scolds corey, punching him in the shoulder.

"dude, you never mess with someone while they have a sword in their hands," luke picks up y/n's sword for her.

"oh that was nothing. we're just playing, right babe?"

y/n's stomach drops at the name coming out of corey's mouth.

"what's your problem andrews?" luke gently pushes y/n behind him. a motion the girl would soon be thankful for.

"my problem is that absolute babe, with that kinda body isn't in my bed right now," corey gestures to y/n. she's fully behind luke, holding onto his arm. was it out of comfort? or in order to keep luke from lashing out? y/n didn't know, but luke didn't mind her touch.

"she's busy," luke answers for her, feeling her grip tighten, "we're busy. so if you could leave, that'd be great."

luke needed corey to get out of his sight before he punched him. he couldn't stand what the ares boy was saying about his best friend.

"not before i get a piece of her," corey snickers and lunges to try and get to y/n from behind luke.

"corey!" luke scolds, throwing his arms out to block corey.

"don't touch me!" y/n yells in fear, now holding luke's shirt tighter than ever.

finally one of corey's friends speaks up, "corey, come on, they both asked you to leave her alone."

the other friend can't help but agree.

"y/n, go find chiron and tell him about corey," luke whispers. with a nod, y/n's running in the direction of the big house. anything to get away from corey.

before the harasser can get a gain on y/n, luke's grabbing him by the shirt. he lets go, but only to punch him square in the face.

blood instantly seeps out of his nose, and luke swore he saw fire gleaming in corey's eyes.

"why are you so protective of her? what? you sleeping with her or something?"

luke's expression doesn't change.

"if you say one more thing about her, i swear i'll punch you into the ground."

no words were spoken, making luke release his grip on corey's shirt. corey however takes the opportunity to shove his head into luke's knocking him back a few steps.

corey gets a few punches in before luke regains his balance. a few more punches land on luke's arms, before he shoves corey back, and punches him one last time before the asshole is laying on the ground.

luke's breathing heavily and corey's catching his breath on the groun as chiron speaks up.

he walks fully out of the woods now, with y/n climbing off his back. as soon as she told him what happened, he directed her to get in his back as he ran towards the arena.

y/n ran to luke as chiron started scolding corey and his two brothers, mostly corey though.

y/n holds luke's face in her hands, running her thumbs over the fresh red patches on his cheeks.

"are you okay?" there's nothing but concern filling her voice.

luke dryly chuckles, "you should see the other guy."

y/n leans up and wraps her arms around luke's neck to fully pull him into a hug. in seconds his own arms wrap around her waist.

as they pull away, luke watches chiron walk off with the three ares brothers.

"are you okay?" luke finally asks y/n.

she nods, "yeah, it's uh, nothing he hasn't said before. he's just never lunged at me before."

luke leans over to kiss y/n's forehead, before talking back to their swords. he was going to put them away, with the other dull fighting swords, but y/n's voice stops his movements.

"thank you," luke turns to the girl, "you've saved me a lot from corey, and i've never really told you thank you."

"what are friends for?"

luke's words hurt y/n, not on purpose. y/n can't help but see luke differently recently. she wasn't sure if he grew into his looks, or maybe it was just her hormones messing with her, but she started falling for luke castellan.

"you okay?" luke walks back over to the girl.

she only nods, "yeah, yes i'm okay."

luke notices the shake in her voice and her emotions changing from one to another.

"are you sure?" luke's hands rubs up and down her shoulders.

y/n only nods again, but after a moment her eyes drift down to his lips subconsciously.

luke noticed.

the boy smirks slightly, making y/n confused.

"you look like you want to kiss me."

y/n's cheeks change to the brightest shade of red, and she immediately starts shaking her head.

"no! no, no that's ridiculous," she denies

"what if i said i want to kiss you too?"

y/n's breath catches in her throat. she must've heard luke wrong.

her thought was disproved when luke leaned in slightly. he stopped, wanting to make sure y/n wanted this just as much as he did. the girl simply pulls luke to her by his neck. a small groan emits his lips once they connect with hers.

the kiss was full of force, and pent up emotions. they could both tell, and they knew how long they needed this kiss to happen.

"you guys done sucking face?"

luke and y/n break apart at clarisse's voice.

"we need the arena to practice," she states, motioning to a few of the ares sisters behind her.

"yeah uh," luke coughs, "we'll go."

and with that, he pulls a very giddy y/n out of the arena and toward the direction of his cabin.

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x poseidon!reader #luke castellan x poseidon reader #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo show #pjo tv #pjo series

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