#before break it was laundry from like two weeks before and i ran out of time to do the other week’s worth of laundry before leaving SO. in

[pallases]

bless my inability to do laundry within a reasonable time frame

[gutsby]

Who’s Your Daddy?

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader

Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.

Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.

Word count: 8.3k

It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.

And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.

Okay, it was definitely porn.

But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.

You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.

Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.

Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.

By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.

Fucking loser.

Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.

It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.

At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.

If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.

TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???

TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.

Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.

The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.

Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:

TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!

TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?

It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.

TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)

You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.

The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.

Not here…not here…not—

You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.

—here, not here, not—

“EW!” you shrieked.

In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.

A pair of boxers, it seemed.

You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.

Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.

The boxers wouldn’t budge.

You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.

Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.

“Fucking…CUNT.”

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.

The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.

Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.

You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.

To your horror, your finger was stuck.

“FUCK!”

You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.

You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—

“Aw, shit.”

—Joel.

Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.

Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.

And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.

“What in the—wh—th—” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”

“Help me,” you hissed.

You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.

“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”

The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.

You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.

“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.

You could smell him.

That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.

You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.

At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:

“What’s stuck?”

Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,

“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”

You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.

When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.

The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.

“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”

Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.

“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”

Your finger was kind of fucked.

Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.

The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.

Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.

“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.

By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—

“Just get me out!” you shrieked.

You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.

Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.

“Cool your pits, kid.”

For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.

“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.

“Why are you home, anyway?”

The question came out more clipped than you meant it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.

“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”

With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.

Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.

Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.

“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.

He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.

You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.

But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ��thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.

Gross.

Gross.

“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.

If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.

Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.

“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”

You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.

Doting, almost.

“Well I’ll be—”

“Will you quit?!” you snapped.

You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.

“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”

“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”

He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.

“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”

That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.

Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.

What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.

An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.

A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.

Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.

Joel spanked you.

Spanked you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.

He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.

Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.

And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.

“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.

The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.

“Joel.”

That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?

Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.

“Good?” Joel said.

Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.

It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—

“Please.”

But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?

No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.

Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.

He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.

Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.

“Now use your words.”

“But—” you sputtered.

“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.

“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”

It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.

That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.

Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”

Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.

“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.

You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”

“You’re not that either.”

Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.

“So that means I’m—”

“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.

Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.

Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.

Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.

He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.

You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”

You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.

“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.

“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”

He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.

You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.

Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.

Joel whistled.

“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”

Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.

And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.

A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.

“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.

“No one.”

Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.

And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.

“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.

“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”

“They’re just clothes!”

“Just clothes?”

In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.

Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.

You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.

So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.

In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.

“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.

Then somehow send those expectations even lower.

There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.

And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.

Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.

Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.

Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:

“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”

You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.

“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.

Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.

“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”

“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”

Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.

The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper

“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.

“Y-Yeah,” you lied.

“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”

“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.

“‘Atta girl,” he praised.

It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.

“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.

‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.

He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.

And then he stopped.

Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.

He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.

“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.

“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.

Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.

“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.

You nodded, not knowing why.

Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.

It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.

“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.

You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.

This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.

‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.

“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.

Or, rather, it—your finger.

Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.

‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.

Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.

His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.

Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.

Safe.

“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”

Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.

“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”

Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.

His hand ascended your throat in a blink.

“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”

“I—”

Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.

“What you want—”

He squeezed harder.

“—what you need—”

You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.

“—is me, ain’t it?”

The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.

“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”

‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.

Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.

“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.

You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.

Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.

“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”

For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.

Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.

“Who’s your daddy now?”

You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.

“Who’s your daddy?”

Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.

“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”

But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ‘I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.

“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”

His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.

An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.

“It’s okay to say it.”

“C-Can’t—”

“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”

“Please. Please.”

You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Say it now. Who’s it for?”

Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.

You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.

“Y-You.”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Who?”

Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.

“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”

“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.

Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.

“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.

“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.

You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.

And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.

And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.

The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.

Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.

It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.

Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.

Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.

As if remembering something.

In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.

“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.

“What? What is it?”

His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.

“What?”

“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.

You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”

At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.

“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”

Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.

“Wait, Joel, wh—”

“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”

You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.

“You’re—”

The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.

You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.

Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.

“Between us—” he began, slowly.

“Get fucked,” you finished for him.

Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.

Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:

“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”

—

Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️

[fruittt-punchhh]

Pop My Cherry!

all parts

Synopsis: your dad’s best friend is none other than Toji Fushiguro, and you can’t help but wonder what he could do with his hands.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x reader. Choso Kamo is mentioned, not a major part of the story.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! afab! reader, fem! reader, dad’s best friend! Toji, suggestiveness, cursing, inexperienced (ish) reader, reader is a virgin but has done things ya know, reader smokes weed, alcohol usage, pet/affectionate names, no smut yet 🫶

Word Count: 2.2k-ish

Notes: friends!!! This is my first ever smut! Pls be nice🫶 if you have any suggestions, comments, advice, PLEASE feel free to let me know!! I hope you enjoy hehe. (filthy smut if you’re down for that in pt. 2 trust) excuse any typos, proofread a bunch but I’m also human. 💖

It had been a terribly long week already, and it was only Thursday. You were on spring break from university, and you had spent most of the week catching up on overdue assignments.

You were staying with your father, as well as your brother, and your father’s best friend. He had a condo at the beach that wasn’t too far from your university, so it worked out well.

You had just finished your final essay for philosophy 200, closing your laptop with a snap! as you rub your eyes. It was nearing 3:30 a.m. but you still felt so much residual stress from the paper. You had a joint ready and waiting for you, and a hit or two couldn’t hurt, right? Enough so you could relax, maybe grab a snack, and hit the hay. You open your bedroom window, creeping out onto the balcony to let your worries fade away.

————————————————————————

You throw your leg over the window sill, trying to keep your balance. You lowkey had the munchies so you head to the kitchen before you retire for the night. Until you are met with a surprise.

Your father’s friend (you think his last name was Fushiguro?) has been gone all week for “work”. You noticed him coming in at odd hours of the night, looking worse for wear.

“What are you starin’ at, doll?” Toji says as he looks for a shirt in the laundry room.

You feel your cheeks turn red as you try to quickly avert your eyes. You wore nothing but a large t-shirt as you crept into the kitchen, hoping you wouldn’t wake your father.

You thought you heard Toji come in maybe an hour earlier, but you couldn’t know for sure. Here he stood, fresh out of the shower with nothing but a small towel wrapped around his waist. His dark hair was dripping down his back and he still looked as if he was radiating heat from the shower he just took (or was that you?) It was all of a sudden much too warm in the kitchen for your liking.

“S-sorry, I was just grabbing a snack. I’ll be quick,” you stammer. You had only ever seen Toji a few times, and you didn’t remember him to be this… attractive? You didn’t know if that was even the right word. In this moment, you felt attracted to him, sure. But you also felt small and helpless. As if he could pierce through you with his gaze alone. You truly didn’t mean to stare, but you also didn’t expect anyone else to be in the kitchen at 4 a.m., either.

He interrupts you with a smirk, “What’s the rush? It’s y/n, right? Grab me a beer out of the fridge while you’re at it, girl”

If you thought your cheeks couldn’t be any redder, you were wrong. You felt the crimson blush cover your ears as you turned around to look for a beer in the fridge. There was a (beer brand here) in the back on the bottom shelf. You tried to bend at your knees as to be discreet, but you could have sworn you heard Toji clearing his throat as you did so.

Toji slipped on a pair of black boxer briefs as you grabbed him a beer like the sweet girl you are. He felt as if the wind was knocked out of him when he saw you bend down, searching the fridge for his drink. Call him crazy, but he could’ve sworn you weren’t wearing any panties. He quickly ran the towel through his hair, trying to ignore the rush of blood he felt surging to his dick.

You grabbed the beer, as well as an apple for yourself. You walked over to Toji, and he took the beer from you with a ‘thanks’. He popped off the cap with his molars and took a big swig. You watched as the beer dripped down his chin and over his adam’s apple. You also noticed the scar covering his pretty lips.

Your eyes wandered as he finished his beer surprisingly quickly. He would usually come home covered in a mixture of dirt, sweat, and sometimes blood. Apparently, underneath the dirt and grime was a body that was sculpted by the gods. Everything about him was so big. His huge tits pecs and his ripped abdomen. His biceps were bigger than your head and his hands, oh god, his hands. They were riddled with callouses and he had short, bitten nails. His fingers were so thick and you started to imagine what it would be like to feel them on your body.

Your temperature rose as the lewd thoughts entered your mind. This is your father’s best friend! Although he was a a few years younger than your dad, he was still much too old for you. Not only that, but you were still (unfortunately) a virgin. And not for a lack of trying! You were double majoring in psychology and philosophy, so most of your limited leisure time was spent smoking to relax, or hanging out with your small group of friends on the weekends. Sure, you had masturbated plenty of times, and you’ve given the occasional blowjob. But you’ve never quite found the right person at the right time to go all the way with. You never cared much about the label ‘virgin’ until now, feeling like you might have been missing out.

Now, you were standing in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning thinking about what this man could do to you with just his fingers. The thought alone had you squeezing your thighs together, trying to give yourself any relief from the problem you’ve created.

“You know it’s rude to stare, right y/n? Especially after I asked you a question, doll”

Yet again, he’s caught you off guard. I mean seriously, how old were you? You felt like a teenage boy who had just seen his first pair of tits. You need to pull yourself together so you can get out of here as soon as possible. You didn’t know how long you would be able to hold it together without making it quite obvious that internally, you were aching.

“Shit, I’m sorry! I was lost in a train of thought, I-I guess. What was the question?” Hopefully he doesn’t catch on to your half-lie.

Toji pulls a black compression tee over his torso, giving you a moment to collect yourself finally. He throws the beer in the trash and steps into the light of the kitchen alongside you.

He flashes a toothy smile at you, “You should watch that language. Pretty girls don’t go around saying things like that. And I asked you what the hell you were doing up so late.”

Pretty girls? Did you hear him correctly? He could just be saying things to get you to squirm, and if that was his goal, it was working all too well. You hope his smile was out of politeness, but you knew enough about Toji from your father to know that this man did not have a polite bone in his body. It seemed almost as if he was teasing you?

“S-Sorry about the language, I’m just tired. I’ve been working on my philosophy paper for the last few hours and I just wanted a snack before I went to bed,” you admitted truthfully.

Toji rolled his eyes, smirking at your statement, “God, that sounds so fucking boring. I’m surprised you finished it, I woulda given up hours ago.”

You smiled at his honesty. You knew that your paper topic ‘the perception of personal space’ and your other assignments on morals and judgement were not everyone’s cup of tea. “It’s actually quite interesting, it’s about the concept of how one perceives personal space, but I definitely wanted to call it quits a few times. I’m just glad I can sleep in tomorrow.” You admit with a grin. Despite his blasé attitude, a part of you thought he might actually be listening (at least a little bit).

All he heard was bla bla bla. It seems interesting enough, if you have absolutely nothing else going on in your life. How could you even write two sentences on personal space, let alone an essay? “If it’s that fucking interesting, then why are you in here looking like a walking corpse? Have you seen those bags under your eyes? You need the sleep more than I do, hun.”

Well damn. You didn’t think it was that bad, especially not enough for some old man to point out. You had been staying up most nights trying to catch up on your work, and you could sleep in anyways. But each morning you found yourself awake at 7 a.m. on the dot, still cursed by the rigidity of your usual school routine.

“I’ve just been behind, so I’m trying to catch up while I have the free time.”

Toji peers at you and scratches his head, “Why the fuck are you doing school work on spring break, anyway? Aren’t ya’ supposed to be at the beach getting wasted with your girlfriends?”

While you admit that would be fun, there was just no time for it this year. You were in the last semester of your senior year, and you were graduating with top honors. You had to keep up the good work so you could hopefully be accepted into graduate school in the fall.

“I mean it’d be fun sure, but smoking is more my thing anyways. I like relaxing after all my work is done, so I’d rather stay here and get caught up while I can, ya’know?”

How cute. Look at you trying to be a good little student. It would almost be admirable if it didn’t make his stomach churn at how sickly sweet it was.

“That’s good, doll. Keep it up and you’ll be making big bucks just like me, yeah? What are you wanting to go to school for anyways, to be a fuckin’ therapist or some shit?”

Everyone thought you wanted to be a therapist, but truth be told, that profession couldn’t be more off your radar. You had enough problems of your own to deal with, and you certainly didn’t need to hear other people’s on top of that.

“I’m not going to school to be a therapist actually; I really want to be a professor one day. What do you do for work anyways? You always look like you just came home from war or some-“

He cuts you off before you can land a joke at his expense. Toji’s profession wasn’t the best topic for conversation, given that his line of work was very hush-hush.

“You’re cute. Next question.”

Cute?? At this point you felt like he was toying with you. But you did have another question for him.

“How come I can’t say ‘shit’ but you can say whatever you want? I’m grown, aren’t I?”

Toji shifted towards you. You stood in the door frame between the kitchen and the hallway, your apple untouched. You were too busy thinking of what to say next to the large, burly man that was suddenly peering over you. He came to the doorframe, throwing one hand on top of it. At this point, he was towering over you. His shadow cascading over you as you felt yourself shrink into the background. Toji glared at you with his velvet green eyes and a smug grin was plastered across his face. You felt his hand grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your neck was strained as you attempted to make eye contact with the taller man.

“Can’t you hear woman? I said pretty girls don’t go around saying shit like that. Do I look like a pretty girl to you?” He says as he inches closer to your face. You could smell the beer wafting from his mouth. But the smell was quickly overrun by the rest of him. He smelled like pine, cheap liquor, and…cinnamon? Suddenly, the grip on your chin tightens. His hands are so large, he’s even starting to squish your cheeks, making you look like an absolute fool underneath him.

“I asked you a question, princess.”

The name throws you off guard, but for some reason, you’re not upset.

“S-sorry, no y-you don’t look like a pretty girl. Of course not, m-my bad.”

“That’s what I thought, y/n.”

Toji spits as he releases his grasp on you, standing straight and stretching his arms as he lets out a yawn. He smelled the weed all over you and could tell how flustered you got from your little interaction. He grabs the apple from your hand, taking a huge bite which in turn means you only have about half an apple left. He hands you back your snack, pats your head then saunters over to the couch, plopping down with a grunt. He grabs the remote and turns it to some wrestling show he always watched.

You look at him, confused. You weren’t even staring this time. You were simply dumbfounded at the interaction you two just had. Surely that can’t be it, right? He’s just going to watch tv after he had you literally in the palm of his hand? (and he ate half of my fucking apple)

You move to turn the lights off, and you put your apple in the trash. Your appetite for food was long gone. You quietly walk out of the kitchen into the dim hallway. Toji calls your name, startling you.

“Sleep tight, doll.”

pt. 2

[crowsofdarkness]

Neighbors: One Shot

pictures/gifs not mine. all found on pinterest. cover made by me*

Parings: Bill Skarsgard x OFC! Rose

Word Count: 3,648

Content Warnings: Bill being a sweet flirt, language, and smut that will include mentions of masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, slight degradation if you squint, and public sex.

Summary: A simple chance encounter inside the laundry room with her new neighbor seems to change Rose's life without warning.

Humming a tune to myself, I hoisted the laundry basket up higher on my hip as I trotted down the long hallway from my apartment towards the laundry room. It was nearly two in the morning and that’s when I usually decided to do my laundry since the machines would be open this late. 

The bottom of my shirt flew in the wind I created as I walked and the chill from the AC in the complex brought goosebumps to my bare legs. I’d waited longer than normal to do laundry so I had no pants to wear, hence the oversized shirt, fuzzy socks, and my moccasins. 

It was fine though. I’d been doing my laundry this late for months now and I’d never run into someone. 

Until now. 

Coming to a stop in the doorway of the laundry room, I dropped the basket to the floor when a pair of bright eyes met mine, pinning me in place. His hands were quickly working in folding laundry. Not just any laundry, my laundry. 

More specifically a pair of red lace panties. 

“Your laundry was taking up the two machines so I thought I’d fold it for you,” my neighbor smiled at me. 

My new neighbor. The one who moved into 4C two weeks ago. The one who I could hear singing in some different language through the walls of my bedroom. The one who I could not stop staring at. The one who I could not stop thinking of day and night. 

Bill Skarsgard.

“Uh,” I cleared my throat while licking my lips. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

Bill raised a brow, setting the folded pile of clothes neatly on the table in the middle of the laundry room. 

“Your clothes were taking up the only dryers for the last two hours,” he repeated. 

I blinked, still dumbfounded that not only had my cute neighbor took it upon myself to fold my clothes but seemed to separate them exactly like how I would. In the few weeks since he moved in, I’d all spoken a handful of words to him. The quick smiles or hellos when we passed each other in the hall. There was one time my dog, Floki, slipped through my legs when I was bringing in groceries and ran into the hallway. Thankfully Bill was there to quickly snatch him up before bringing him back to me. Floki is an english cocker spaniel and even though he’s small in size, he makes up for it in speed. That day he was on a mission to run down the four flights of stairs in hopes of making it outside. 

“If I overstepped, I’m sorry, Rose,” Bill said, breaking me from my thoughts. “I just wanted to help and I really needed the machines.” 

“It’s fine, Bill,” I said rather quickly while holding up my hands. “Although, it is a bit weird I caught you fondling my panties.” 

A deep chuckle filled the air which seemed to ease the sudden tension and carefully, I picked up the basket from the ground and walked over towards Bill. As I began placing the folded clothes into the basket, I watched out of the corner of my eye as he placed his wet clothes from the washer into the dryer. 

Although we hadn’t spoken much, we did exchange names on the day he moved in.

“Do you usually do your laundry at two a.m.?” I asked. 

“No, not typically,” Bill answered with a small chuckle, scratching at the small hairs covering his face.

All I did was hum in response before pulling out my other load from the second dryer and began folding those. I knew who Bill was, what he did for a living. It was the talk of the complex when he first moved in that we had a movie star living with us. 

“Do you usually walk the halls in nothing but a shirt and fuzzy socks?” 

I snapped my head up towards Bill who was now leaning his back against the table next to me. His broad arms were crossed over his even broader chest and the smirk that played on his lips made something ignite inside of me. 

“This late, yes. Mostly because I have no clean pants and I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone,” I informed. 

“Wait till the last minute to do laundry, huh?” Bill teased. 

I narrowed my eyes. “Typically no. But I’ve been sick the last week, dying in bed with liquids and antibiotics so my laundry has piled up.” 

“I thought I heard you coughing and sneezing,” he chuckled while now sitting up on the counter next to my pile of clothes.

“Huh?” My brows furrowed in confusion, forcing myself not to look at his long legs dangling in the air. 

Or the way those grey sweatpants were hugging every perfect muscle in his thighs. 

Or the prominent bulge in his pants as his eyes lingered on my bare legs. 

“Thin walls,” he said with a wink. 

I hummed again while fidgeting with the sleeve of one of the clean shirts I had yet to fold. Bill’s bright eyes were staring directly down at me, and I shifted on my feet. Bill didn’t make me uncomfortable.

No, far from that.

Being so close to him like this made something inside of me ignite to life. Everytime we ran into each other, there’d always be small flirtatious comments and lingering stares, but nothing more. I did my best to push away those feelings, play it off as a little crush on my neighbor. Even though I knew deep down, it was more than a crush. Especially with what happened the other night. 

“Oh fuck,” I groaned as the vibrations hit my clit again. “So good.” 

I arched my back on the bed as the orgasm began to crest inside of me, nerve endings coming to life with the prospect of finally letting go. I’d been edging myself for the last ten minutes, pulling away my vibrator whenever I got too close, in order to have a bigger boom sort to speak. My knees began to shake and I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it away from my sweat slicken forehead, ready to finally let go. 

“Bill!” I cried out unexpectedly when those bright eyes of my neighbors forced their way inside of my sex induced state. 

There was a pitter patter of knocking on the wall above my bed. “Everything alright in there, Rose?”

Cursing the thin walls of my apartment under my breath, I slowly rolled out of bed before stalking into the bathroom. 

“Rose?” 

“Hm?” I let my hair fall in my face, hoping the copper strands would hide the crimson hue covering my cheeks as I continued to remember what happened the other night. 

This was the first time I was facing Bill since the incident, mostly because I was doing whatever I could to avoid him. I wasn’t even sure if he heard exactly what I was doing. For all I know, he could have just wanted to say hi. 

Through your wall? Are you really that dumb? He even said he could hear you through the thin walls. 

“How are you feeling now?” He asked. 

“Uh,” I cleared my throat before going back to folding up the last bit of my clothes. “Better. The antibiotics helped. I’m not contagious or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t want to mess up any future filming plans you may have.”

He waved me off and then jumped off the counter to head over to the dryer that just buzzed, indicating it was finished. For a few moments, the only sounds that filled the laundry room were our shared breathing and Bill moving around, setting clothes in specific baskets while I stood almost frozen when I felt his presence behind me.

“How’s your dog?” Bill’s deep voice broke through the silence behind me. “Any more escape attempts?”

“No, thankfully. And his name is Floki,” I said, seeing Bill now back in his previous spot next to me. 

Instead of sitting on the counter, he stood next to me to fold the last bit of his clothes. 

“Floki. That’s interesting.” 

“It’s from one of my favorite shows. Vikings,” I had just placed the last of my clean clothes into my basket when I glanced up at Bill, to see a wicked smirk on his lips. 

Lips I was desperate to taste.

“What?” I asked when he still hadn’t said anything. 

“The actor that plays Floki in Vikings is my brother. Gustaf Skarsgård.” 

My eyes widened at Bill’s revelation and I stood to face him head on. “No way! I couldn’t even see the resemblance.” 

Bill chuckled, the noise making my heart flutter, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I like to think he looks like my other brother, Alex.” 

“Do you have a lot of siblings?” I asked. 

For the next few minutes while we stood facing each other, every so often moving closer towards one another, Bill filled me in on parts of his life and the successful line of actors that was the Skarsgård family. Once he was done giving me the rundown of the family tree and me telling him about how I own the bookstore around the block, opening it a few years ago, we both finished folding our laundry and were now standing so close to each other I could hear his breathing as if it was my own. 

There was a sudden charge, almost appearing out of nowhere, and Bill must have felt it as well because his fingers ghosted over the skin of my thighs. Not touching but close enough his heat danced over me. 

“Remember how I said I could hear you through the thin apartment walls?” He asked, voice dropping slightly. 

I nodded but froze in horror when the realization set in on why he was asking me this. 

“You heard me the other night. When I-,” my voice trailed off as I felt my face heat with crimson. 

Oh this was so bad. Bill probably thinks I’m some sort of weirdo who thinks about him when they use their vibrator. 

“Oh, that,” I stammered. “I didn’t think you could hear. But it wasn’t you I called out for. I was with someone that night.” 

It was mostly true. Earlier that night, I invited an ex over for a quick hook up but when he left less than an hour and I was unsatisfied, I took it upon myself to finish the job. 

Something flicked in Bill’s eyes which told me he didn’t believe a word I said.

“What part of me did you think of when you touched yourself?” 

My eyes snapped up from my fuzzy socks to the sly smirk that rested on Bill’s soft face and something inside of me warmed at the image of Bill being the one who held the vibrator against my clit. 

I swallowed thickly, trying to find a voice to respond, but the only thing I could do was continue to think of how Bill looked naked against the burnt orange color of my bed sheets. How his scent would stain my pillowcases for weeks after.

“I-uh-I told you. I was with someone that night.” 

“I know,” Bill snorted. “He sounded like a real catch. How long did it last?” 

My face burned with embarrassment for not only him being able to hear the disaster of a hookup I had but also the fact he was fine with openly talking about it. Usually talking about my sex life didn’t bother me but when it was with someone who I wished I was having sex with, it made me incredibly nervous. I didn’t want Bill to get the wrong impression of me. 

“He was in and out in less than ten minutes. Literally,” I sighed. “I don’t need to be reminded of my disastrous sex life or the fact you heard us. But I didn’t call out your name later. I ended up going to sleep shortly after he left.”

A squeal erupted from my throat when I felt myself being lifted from the ground before being set down on the counter in the laundry room. With one hand, Bill spread apart my legs so he could step into them and rested both arms on either side of me. Locking me in place. 

“You know, your left eye does this weird twitching thing when you lie,” he noted. 

“It does not!” I shot back, sort of defiantly. 

It did. 

My left eye always twitches when I tell a lie. My mom would always call me out on it growing up. 

“You still haven't answered my question,” he said, changing the subject of my blatant lie. 

I blinked. “What question?” 

“When you touched yourself, did you imagine it was my fingers?” He asked while tucking a strand of copper hair behind my ear. 

I should lie to him. Tell him that I definitely was not thinking of his lips sucking my clit. But it was futile, knowing he had heard me. And the fact he would call me out again.

“Your tongue,” I admitted. 

A deep noise vibrated in Bill’s chest as his hands now rested on my thighs. With him setting me on the counter, the bottom of my shirt rode up, exposing more of my legs and my bright orange panties. His fingers kneaded my skin, causing a small moan to fall from my lips. 

“Did you think of me when he was fucking you?” Bill's warm breath fanned over my ear. 

Now his hand slipped between my legs, dragging a finger over my panties and I shivered with his touch.

“Yes.”

I didn’t bother to lie, afraid that if I did he would stop whatever he was doing. I needed this. I needed Bill. 

“You smell so good,” he mused while breathing me in. “Like white roses.”

Pushing my panties to the side, he gathered up my wetness to draw small circles against my clit and my head fell forward against Bill’s shoulder. 

“Look how wet you are,” he mused. “This all for me? You want me, don’t ya, Rose?” 

Words were foreign especially when Bill slipped a finger inside of me to slowly drag it in and out. So all I could do was nod. With his free hand, he cupped my chin so he could force me to look into his bright eyes. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

I hastily shook my head and grasped at his shirt. “No, Bill. Please keep going. I need this.” 

I could barely finish my words before he captured my lips in a feverish kiss, tongue immediately forcing the inside of my mouth to devour me whole. My body ignited with warmth, it spread through each of my veins, and my heart nearly burst out of my chest. I’d been dreaming of how Bill’s lips taste for the last few weeks and now that I finally did, I realized it paled in comparison to my dreams. 

“More,” I muttered against his lips, rutting my cunt against his finger. “I need more. Please.”

Bill understood because he pulled out his hand from my panites to yank me off of the counter. Spinning me around, he pushed down my upper half against the counter and kicked my legs apart. My knees shook with anticipation and I was thankful I’dfinally showered after being sick in bed the last few days. 

Even though I couldn’t see, I knew Bill was yanking down the front of his sweats and not bothering to take off my panties, he pushed them to the side. When he pulled out his cock, I groaned when I felt the head press gently inside of me before halting. 

“Are you on anything or should I grab a condom?” Bill asked. 

I could hear the strain in his voice at the fact he’d have to stop this to run to his apartment to grab a condom. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I gave him a small smile. ��I’m on the pill. We’re good.” 

With my approval, Bill quickly sank deep inside of me, both of us groaning. I’d never felt so full before as I writhed against the counter, trying to hold onto something as he snapped his hips into me from behind. 

“Fuck, Rose. Your cunt is gripping my cock so tight,” Bill grunted while resting his forehead against my back. 

The sound of the dryer buzzing, indicating it was done, fell away to white noise. Only briefly reminding me that we were in the laundry room of our apartment complex meaning anyone could walk in and see Bill spearing me open on his cock. But the excitement of being caught brought forth my orgasm, teetering on the edge. 

Bill dragged out his cock to slowly fuck me with the head and I sputtered out his name, forcing my ass against him with the hope he’d fill me up again. I clenched around him, our shared wetness creating ungodly sounds. His warm breath fanned my face and I titled my head slightly to crash our lips together again, my tongue finding his instantly. One of Bill’s hands gripped tightly against my hip while the other slipped inside of my panites to thrum against my swollen clit. 

“Oh, shit,” I nibbled on his bottom lip. “I’m so close, Bill. Don’t stop.” 

“Never,” he said while now wrapping the arm that held my hip around my midsection to hold me tight against him. “Your cunt takes me so well, Rose. Like it was made for me.”

My head fell to the cool granite counter, the feeling of him fucking me and his fingers drawing circles on my clit was all too much. Sweat gathered at the back of my neck as my body tensed in Bill’s embrace and my jaw fell slack, my orgasm ripping through me. I spasmed all over his cock, soaking him, and he stalled his hips for a moment. 

“Gonna fill up that pretty pussy, baby,” Bill grunted before his cock twitched inside of me, doing exactly what he said. 

With both of us slumped over on the counter, we allowed ourselves a few minutes to catch our breath before Bill slipped out of me and set my panties back in place. I frowned at the wetness between my legs before rising up to adjust the bottom of my shirt. 

“Uh, well,” I did my best to fix my hair, hoping it didn’t look like I just had sex in a public laundry room. 

Bill stuffed his hands deep in the pocket of his sweats and wore a lazy smile. “I will admit, this is a first for me so I don’t know how to end this.” 

“You mean to tell me you don’t fuck every girl that you meet in the laundry room?” I teased.

“You’re the first,” he hummed. 

We stood there for a few beats, just staring at each other while not knowing what to say. I didn’t expect to find Bill here when I came down to finish my laundry and I definitely didn’t expect to have him fuck me over the counter. 

Just as my lips parted to speak, a new form entered the room causing both Bill and I to step away from each other. I recognized who just walked in; the nurse from 2A who worked the late shift, meaning she would do her laundry at four in the morning when she got off shift. 

“Oh, well looks like we meet here again Bill,” she giggled while setting down her basket of clothes on the counter next to him. 

“Hey Lauren,” he greeted but there was somethin indifferent in his voice. 

Lauren gave me a forced smile before glancing back at Bill, resting a hand on his arm. “I’m starting to think you’re purposely doing your laundry at this time so you can run into me. This is the fourth time now, right?”

My eyes snapped over towards Bill, something festering low in my gut, and his eyes were filled with a somber color; something unreadable. 

So I wasn’t the only one he’d met in the laundry room at this hour? 

Get over yourself, Rose. You’re jealous over a man who isn’t yours. All he did was fuck you, that’s it. 

Yeah but what if he lied about me being the only one he’s fucked in here?

The voice inside my brain didn’t return my question with an answer so with a long sigh, I gathered my things and gave Bill a curt nod. 

“See you around.”

I scurried out of the laundry room down the hall towards my apartment, ignoring his calls after me. I tried to tell myself over and over again that it was just a quick, heat of the moment, hook up. It wouldn’t be anything more so I had no right to be hurt about the idea of him hooking up with someone else. 

Once in the safety of my apartment, I greeted Floki with a quick pat to the head after setting down my clean baskets in the entryway. As I made a quick beeline towards my bathroom to shower, I did my best to let out a steadying breath, knowing that I could move on from this. Bill was just a neighbor, that’s it. A good fuck. If I was lucky, I wouldn’t run into him all that often. I mean, I rarely did before so now it would be no different. 

Yet, a month and a half later and no sightings from Bill, I found myself knocking on his apartment door only to be met with silence. So with one final look at the envelope in my hand, I slipped it underneath his door and turned my back towards it, stalking into my apartment with a heavy heart. 

[red40overdose]

hey baaabe, can you maybe write tae or jimin falling for oc whos also an idol but they cant really show it to anyone? 🥹

A/N: I will write Tae with a proper secret relationship but for now I present to you……

IDYLLIC

IDOL!JIMIN X IDOL!GN!READER

Synopsis: Jimin has a rule. A code if you will. Under no circumstances will he ever date another idol. He's lived by it for many years. Not once has he ever been close to breaking it. Until he met you that is.

W/C: 2.2k

WARNING: Jimin struggling with his feelings slight angst

REQUESTS: OPEN

It wasn't ideal. In an industry like Jimins you don't have time for relationships. A lot of the time you don't even have the mental energy. There was too much to work around.

You don't want to date a fan. They already have a version of you built up in their head. One that would quickly prove itself untrue.

If you do manage to find someone who doesn't know who you are that too can become a disaster. Paparazzi lurk behind every corner. The whole relationship is forced into secrecy. It could ruin your career, it could ruin your partner's life. It isn't good for a relationship. Most people need more. They want to go out on dates. They want normalcy, not to be hidden deep in a closet like dirty laundry.

There were other idols… one look at an idol of the opposite sex and the media would be pumping out articles about a secret love affair. Every week someone would come up to Jimin asking about an idol he hadn't even spoken to.

That was only part of it. Companies would clash. Some companies would push a narrative to try and profit off it.

In the Idol industry, two idols dating was taboo. Some sort of curse that ran rampant through the industry. People would talk behind their backs. Send sympathetic looks to the poor souls that fell victim to it. It was hard as an idol not to fall for another. Idols ended up being around other idols quite a bit. People have needs and when you're surrounded by attractive people it's hard not to go seeking comfort.

Another idol would know what you're going through. They could understand things regular people never could.

But it always ended badly. The media loved it. It was a drama that kept people clicking. So the cameras kept flashing.

So Jimin did the sensible thing. He swore off dating. Of course, every now and then he would find himself in someone's bed. But it never was more than that.

He would risk his and his members career on a scandal. Jimin knew he wouldn't be able to balance a relationship and everything else like Namjoon does. He would slip up when he knew he would. It was easier to just not even try. It was better this way.

For a long time it worked. Jimin managed. He wasn't tempted. He was good.

Until you waltzed into his life. It was at a photoshoot. You were also set to get photographed by the same photographer.

Your shot was before his. As luck would have it, Jimin had arrived early and the staff invited him back.

He had seen you before. Your face was plastered over posters and billboards all across Seoul. None of it could compare to you in real life. None of them, not even the best photos that got the front page of magazines, came close to capturing all of you.

Jimin couldn't tear his eyes away from you as you posed. Your eyes strayed from the camera and settled on him for one brief flickering moment and that's all it took for Jimin to know he was a goner.

Then as if you hadn't even seen him at all your eyes settled back on the camera. Jimin hightailed it out of there and into the break room.

Water. He needed water. That's it, he was probably just dehydrated. Jin was always getting on his case about drinking more water. Something to drink and he would be just fine.

He had just cracked open the bottle and was about to take a sip when he heard you.

“Hey it's Jimin right?”

Slowly almost like a scene out of a movie Jimin turned. Only a few feet behind him there you were. Still in all the glam required for the photoshoot, obviously you had just finished. Jimin swallowed dryly, wishing he had drunk the water already. His tongue was sticking to the rook of his mouth. He managed one shaky nod.

“I'm Y/N.”

“I know.” Great, he had finally managed to say something and he sounded like an asshole.

You took it in stride, or maybe you just hadn't noticed

“Sorry for making you wait. Had some wardrobe issues so we went a little over time,” You said sheepishly.

Then as if it was the most natural thing in the world you reached around him and grabbed one of the water bottles on the counter.

Instantly your scent surrounded Jimin. His breath hitched before he settled on just holding his breath. This close he could see the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. He could see the smallest crease in your eye makeup, probably from laughing.

You leaned back like nothing had happened at all. Like you hadn't just thrown Jimin's code and way of life out the window. You hadn't noticed a thing at all.

Jimin's photo shoot didn't go as well as they usually did. His mind was elsewhere, his poses a little sloppy as he tried to listen to the staff. But everything just felt like static noise.

Ever since then you seemed to be everywhere. Or maybe Jimin was just now noticing your presence.

You were at every party. Every formal event. Always dressed exquisitely. Always looking perfect. Always distracting him.

The rest of his members took notice. They would cast each other looks every time Jimin's eyes strayed back to you.

Jimin tried his hardest not to think of you. To cast every thought of you from his mind. He would turn off the T.V if you came on screen. He would turn off his phone every time you were trending.

Yet everywhere he went. You were there. When he got seated next to you in a fashion stone all he could do was sit stone still. He listened to you gush about the pieces with your friend and it just made everything ten times worse.

Occasionally you would turn to Jimin and try to make small talk. Everytime you two were in the vicinity of him you tried to talk to him. Maybe you were just being polite but Jimin couldn't help but relish in it.

It was so unnatural for him. Jimin was used to making others flustered, not the other way around. He just had that effect, yet this time all of it was turned around on him.

All of it came to its peak on New Year's eve. Hoseok had insisted on throwing a party. Only certain people were invited. Mostly other Idols the group trusted and some personal friends.

You made an appearance. Something Jungkook who had made the guest list failed to mention.

You were beautifully done up and hanging off the arm of one of your friends. The two of you looked so comfortable together. You fit into that spot so perfectly Jimin started to wonder if the two of you were dating.

The thought made him so uncomfortable that he had to turn away. Jimin just missed the look Jungkook gave him.

Jimin poured himself a drink, the first one of the night.

“You alright man?” Jungkook asked.

“Yeah why?” Jimin took a sip and winced at the sharp taste of alcohol and way to sweet juice. Damn Taehyung and his strange drink concoctions.

“I dunno. Lately you've seemed…” Jungkook paused, not sure how to put it, “Strange. You know you can talk to me right? Any of us?”

He wanted to. So badly. He wanted to ramble endlessly about you. How you always managed to look so perfect. How you helped the staff that one time you spilt a drink. How you always kept a calm composure when something clearly ticked you off. How he thought about you every waking hour.

But he couldn't. They all knew about his code. How he felt about dating, especially dating another idol.

Jimin was afraid that he would agree. They would tell him it wasn't a good idea. Not worth the trouble. And then he wouldn't. Because he respected the options of his members, even if it killed him inside.

Yet he was also afraid they would tell him to stop being stupid. To go for it. That even if it ends horribly at least he had you. Even if it was for a little bit. If they held that opinion… Jimin didn't know what he would do.

So he settled on “I'm fine, just stressed about this next album.”

Jimin could tell Jungkook didn't buy it. Not even for a second. Not wanting to be questioned, Jimin slinked off to go find Jin and to avoid you.

He managed well. Jin was in the kitchen over seeing Taehyung's new drink ideas.

You were easy to avoid. Jimin could easily spot your form in the crowd. Pick out your laugh in the cacophony of voices.

Halfway through the party Namjoon came and found him, “Hey Min can you go grab the bottle of tequila I left out on the balcony? My hands are kind of full.”

Namjoon gestured with an arm full of coats. Jimin didn't even notice that most of the coats were the groups, which had already been started away in their respective closets.

“Oh so it's a tequila kind of party?” Jimin said with a smirk before he pushed himself away from the counter.

He worked his way through the crowd before he reached the glass doors leading out to the balcony. Jimin spotted the bottle, sitting on the patio table. He slipped out to quickly grab it.

But what he failed to notice was you, arms crossed and leaning over the balcony. Gazing up at the stars.

Jimin noticed you only a split second before you turned around.

“Oh hey Jimin,” you greeted. It was too late now for him to scamper back into the party.

“Hey. What are you doing out here?”

“Oh you know. Just needed a break from the party.”

Jimin hummed in acknowledgement.

“Care to join me?” You turned back around to look at the night sky once more.

“Well Namjoon asked me to-” Jimin looked over his shoulder back at the glass doors. What he saw cut his sentence short.

Yoongi was staring at him with a devious little smirk. When their eyes met Yoongi reached forward and turned the lock on the door.

God damn him. Jimin gestured widely at Yoongi, willing him to unlock the door. It's not like he could yell out and demand him to. Not with you standing there.

With a cheeky smile and wave Yoongi slinked off into the crowd. Leaving Jimin stranded on the patio with you.

“Do I bother you?” You asked.

Jimin swung back around so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. You hadn't turned back around but there was a noticeable tension in your shoulders.

“What?” Jimin said bewildered, “No? What makes you say that?”

“It just seems like you've made it your life mission to avoid me.”

Jimin was starting to wish he had accepted the third drink Tae tried to shove into his hands. He could really use the extra liquid courage right now.

Damnit. Jimin thought to himself. Get it together. You're a grown man. Jimin Park.

Jimin breathed out a deep breath and came to rest against the railing with you. His eyes focused on the cityscape in front of you two. He couldn't trust himself to look directly at you. He might jump onto you and never let you go.

“I don't…. Dislike you.”

“Well it sure seems like you do.” You said quietly.

Jimins heart panged. This wasn't what he wanted.

“I'm sorry…”

“Listen. I know we don't know each other. And we don't have to. Let's just be civil? It's hard in this industry.”

No no no. This is NOT what he wanted. Not how he planned this to be. Jimin didn't want to be civil, he wanted to be yours.

“I want to… know you.”

“You don't have to spare my feelings Jimin.”

Jimins head whipped around. You still hadn't looked at him. Your jaw was clenched and your bottom lip was quivering as if you were about to cry.

“I'm not! I'm really not, Y/N I-” Jimin took a deep breathe “I like you. I really do.”

You were silent.

“I don't date…” Jimin said after a moment.

“Oh….Jimin…I really think I like you too… But I don't do hookups.” You said slowly.

“That's not what I meant… I mean usually I don't date. But I can't stop thinking about you. You make me want to throw that rule away and never look back.”

There were some cheers from the party. Then the countdown started.

You turned to face Jimin head on. Your eyes met his for the first time since he came out to the patio.

“Three!”

Jimin swallowed and his eyes flickered down to your lips.

“Two!”

“Jimin. Will you kiss me?”

“One!”

He pressed his lips to yours as cheers echoed out from the party.

[sinful-sonnet]

Whiskey & Wildflowers

Chapter 3

Prev | Next

“Fractured Comforts”

Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

W/C: 7.7k

Summary: Grieving the loss of your mother, you find unexpected comfort in your father’s best friend, Joel. As you struggle with loneliness and depression, Joel steps in to help you regain stability. Despite the tension of forbidden feelings growing between you, Joel becomes your steady source of support, offering warmth and safety when you feel most lost. The story unfolds as you navigate grief, healing, and the complexities of your connection with him.

Content warnings: grief and loss, mentions of ed, power dynamics, self neglect, depression and isolation, emotional vulnerability, co feelings of attachment, unprotected piv, m orgasm, f orgasm, lmk if I missed anything

—-

Life without your mom felt surreal. The house was quieter, heavier, like the absence of her presence was weighing everything down. Your dad had taken it the hardest. He’d always been the strong one, the one who held everything together, but now he was crumbling in ways you’d never seen before.

You’d stepped up, doing everything you could to keep things running—making meals, cleaning, and trying to keep your dad from completely shutting down. It was exhausting, but you pushed through, telling yourself it’s what your mom would’ve wanted.

Joel and Sarah started coming by more often to help out. Sarah would sit with your dad, trying to distract him with little conversations or even just her presence. Joel, on the other hand, took to fixing things around the house—stuff that didn’t even need fixing, really.

“You’ve done enough,” Joel said one evening when you tried to stop him from working on a squeaky cabinet hinge. “Why don’t you take a break, darlin’? You’ve been runnin’ yourself ragged.”

You shook your head, setting down a pile of laundry. “I can’t, Joel. If I stop, everything’s gonna fall apart.”

Joel gave you a look—soft, but firm. “It won’t. You’re not alone in this, you know. Let us help.”

You sighed but nodded, sinking into a chair. Joel was right, though it didn’t make it any easier to let go of the reins.

Later, Joel sat with your dad, who was nursing a half-empty glass of whiskey at the kitchen table. He hadn’t said much since Joel arrived, and it was starting to worry him.

“I’ve known you a long time,” Joel said, his voice low and steady. “I ain’t ever seen you like this, man. You gotta talk to me.”

Your dad looked up, his eyes tired and red. “What’s there to say, Joel? She’s gone. She was my whole world, and now I don’t even know how to… how to be without her.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You got your kid to think about. You ain’t gotta do it alone, but you can’t shut down on her. She needs you.”

Your dad ran a hand through his hair, nodding slowly. “I know. It’s just… hard.”

Joel stayed quiet for a moment, then said, “We’ll get through this. All of us. One step at a time.”

From the living room, you watched the two of them, grateful for Joel’s steady presence. Despite everything, you felt a little less alone knowing he was there—not just for your dad, but for you, too.

—

“I think I need to get away from here for a bit,” your dad said one evening, his voice low and uncertain. He sat across from you at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee he hadn’t touched.

You froze, the words hanging in the air like a weight. “What do you mean, Dad?” you asked softly, trying to keep the worry out of your voice.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s just… everything in this house reminds me of her. Every corner, every damn thing I see. I can’t—” He stopped, taking a shaky breath. “I can’t breathe here. I need to clear my head.”

You didn’t know what to say. The thought of him leaving felt strange, like the house would be even emptier without him. It wasn’t like he was doing much to keep things lively, but at least he was here.

“How long would you be gone?” you asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “A week, maybe two. I just need some space to figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

You nodded slowly, though a knot tightened in your chest. “I get it,” you said, even though you weren’t sure if you did. “Just… don’t stay away too long, okay?”

He reached across the table, placing his hand over yours. “I won’t. And I’m not leaving you alone. Joel and Sarah will check in. I’ll call every day, I promise.”

It didn’t make the idea of his absence any easier, but you forced a small smile. “Okay.”

Later that evening, when Joel came by, you told him about your dad’s decision. His brow furrowed, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “He said that, huh?” Joel muttered.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice quiet. “I get why, but… it feels weird. The house is gonna feel even emptier.”

Joel looked at you, his eyes soft with understanding. “I’ll be around,” he said simply. “You won’t have to do this alone.”

You nodded, the reassurance helping a little. But as the days passed and your dad packed up to leave, you couldn’t shake the unease that settled deep in your chest. The house would be quieter than ever, and even with Joel and Sarah stopping by, it wouldn’t feel the same without him.

You reminded yourself that you weren’t a teenager anymore—you were 25. You could live on your own, and technically, you had been managing everything in the house since your mom’s passing. Still, the thought of your dad leaving made you uneasy.

It wasn’t about not being capable—you’d proven you could cook, clean, pay bills, and handle the day-to-day chaos of life. But the house had always been a shared space, a place where you felt anchored by family. Without your dad there, it felt like something essential was being taken away, leaving you adrift in a sea of silence.

“You’re grown, kid,” your dad had said when you expressed your hesitation. “I know you’ll be fine. Hell, you’ve been keeping things together better than me these past weeks.”

It wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was true. You nodded, trying to reassure him—and yourself. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be fine.”

And you would be. You’d done it before—college apartments, short stints away from home—but this felt different. This wasn’t about independence or learning to stand on your own. This was about filling the void left behind by the people who were supposed to be there with you.

As the day of his departure came closer, Joel stopped by more frequently, making sure you were set up with everything you might need. “You got enough groceries?” he asked one afternoon, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, Joel. I’m good,” you replied with a small smile. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

He smirked but didn’t argue. “I know that. Just… makin’ sure.”

Deep down, you knew Joel was trying to fill in the gaps, to make sure you didn’t feel completely alone once your dad left. It wasn’t lost on you, and for that, you were grateful. But it didn’t change the lingering emptiness you felt when the house fell silent at night, the weight of memories pressing in around you.

You’d be fine—you kept telling yourself that. You were 25, after all. You could handle it. But that didn’t mean it didn’t feel impossibly hard.

———

A few weeks had passed since your dad left, and you’d fallen into a pattern of isolating yourself. The house felt cold and empty, like a hollow shell of what it used to be, and you found it easier to just stay in your room.

You stopped answering the door when Joel and Sarah came by. Even when they unlocked the door with the spare key your dad had left, you’d lock yourself in your room, pretending to be asleep or too tired to come out. The truth was, it was all just… too much.

Deep down, you couldn’t shake the nagging fear that your dad might never come back. He hadn’t said much the last time you talked—just short, clipped answers that left you feeling more worried than reassured. The thought of losing him, too, was unbearable, so you retreated further into yourself, hoping that maybe shutting everything out would make it hurt less.

It didn’t.

Sarah had tried coaxing you out, knocking softly on your door and calling your name. “We’re worried about you,” she said one day, her voice filled with concern. “Please, just talk to us.”

You didn’t respond, your body curled up under the blankets as you stared at the wall.

Joel wasn’t as patient. He stood outside your door the next time he came by, his voice firmer. “Darlin’, I know you can hear me. I’m not gonna push, but you can’t keep doin’ this to yourself. Open the door. Please.”

But you didn’t.

Joel hated the idea of leaving you alone like this. Sarah could see it in the way his jaw tightened whenever you shut them out. He wasn’t the type to sit back and let things happen, but this was different. You weren’t just shutting the world out—you were shutting him out, and it was killing him.

“She’s not okay, Sarah,” he muttered one evening after they’d left the house again, unsuccessful in getting through to you.

“I know,” Sarah replied, her voice small. “But what can we do? She’s gotta let us in.”

Joel shook his head, running a hand down his face. “I just… I hate seein’ her like this. I just wanna—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. He couldn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t say out loud what he really wanted: to hold you, to make everything better, to take away your pain.

But you weren’t letting anyone in, and it left Joel feeling helpless in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

You hadn’t been eating properly or drinking enough water, and it was catching up to you. Your body felt weak, like it was falling apart bit by bit. Your head throbbed constantly, your limbs were heavy, and even getting out of bed felt impossible most days. You didn’t know exactly when you’d let things get this bad, or why you hadn’t tried harder to stop it. Maybe it was just the depression, weighing you down like a lead blanket.

You stared at the wall, the hours bleeding together. You couldn’t even remember the last real meal you’d had, let alone the last time you’d actually felt like yourself. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you should care—about yourself, about everything—but the energy just wasn’t there.

Joel barely crossed your mind. Even though he and Sarah had been coming around, you hadn’t let yourself think about him too much. It was easier that way. The ache in your chest from everything that had happened—the loss, the loneliness, the guilt—it was already too much. Thinking about Joel would just add another layer to the mess.

You rubbed your hands over your face, trying to snap yourself out of it, but the haze of exhaustion and hunger wouldn’t let go. Deep down, you knew you couldn’t keep going like this. Something had to give. You just weren’t sure if you had the strength to do anything about it.

Joel couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every time he came by and found your door locked, every time Sarah came back with another failed attempt to reach you, it ate away at him. He’d thought about breaking down your door more than once, just to make sure you were okay, but he stopped himself every time. He didn’t want to push you further away.

The guilt weighed heavy on him. He couldn’t shake the memory of that day—the look in your eyes when he pulled away, the way your voice broke as you thanked him before leaving. He wondered if rejecting you had been a mistake. Maybe if he’d let you in, been there for you in the way you wanted, things wouldn’t have gotten this bad.

But he also knew that line of thinking wasn’t fair—not to you, and not to himself. It wasn’t just about that moment. You were grieving, trying to hold it all together while your world fell apart, and Joel knew there was only so much anyone could do to pull you out of it.

Still, the thought lingered. What if? What if he’d said something different, done something different? Would you be eating properly? Would you be taking care of yourself? Would you have let him help you before it got this bad?

Joel rubbed his hands over his face, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t keep sitting on the sidelines, watching you waste away. He needed to figure out how to reach you, but he didn’t know how to do it without making things worse.

All he knew was that the thought of losing you, of not being there when you needed him most, was something he couldn’t bear.

•

Sarah had started a new job recently, which kept her busy most of the time. She rarely came by to check on you with Joel anymore, leaving him to shoulder the worry on his own.

Joel noticed the difference immediately. Without Sarah’s presence to balance things out, the silence in your house seemed even heavier when he visited. He still used the spare key to let himself in, hoping each time that maybe this visit would be the one where you finally opened your door.

But you never did.

Joel tried not to let it show, but the absence of Sarah’s help made things harder. She’d always been the optimist, the one to reassure him that you just needed time and space. Now, without her around, the weight of his concern felt even greater.

He caught himself lingering in the living room some days, hoping to hear any sign of you stirring upstairs. When he didn’t, his frustration and helplessness grew. He hated the thought of you being up there, alone, letting yourself waste away.

“Damn it, kid,” he muttered to himself one afternoon, pacing the living room. He ran a hand through his hair, debating once again whether to break down your door. But just like every other time, he held back, telling himself that forcing his way in might only make things worse.

Still, with Sarah gone most of the time, Joel felt more alone in this than ever. And no matter how much he tried to shake the guilt, it kept clawing at him, whispering that maybe—just maybe—he could have stopped this spiral if he’d done something differently.

—

Joel sat on the couch, staring at the muted TV, his thoughts far from whatever was playing on the screen. The house was quiet as always, the silence pressing in on him. He was about to leave, convinced it was another fruitless visit, when he heard the sound of running water upstairs.

His heart skipped.

For a moment, he thought he was imagining it. He stood slowly, listening carefully. When he heard the faint sound of the faucet, his chest tightened. You were up. You were moving.

Joel hesitated, unsure whether to call out or stay where he was. He didn’t want to scare you back into your room. He sank back down onto the couch, trying to calm the sudden wave of relief that rushed through him.

Upstairs, you hadn’t even realized Joel was there. You’d decided, finally, that you couldn’t take the grime and heaviness anymore. A bath sounded like just what you needed to feel somewhat human again. Thinking you were alone, you left the bathroom door open, letting the warm steam drift into the hall.

You sank into the tub, the hot water enveloping you, and for the first time in weeks, your body started to feel a little less like it was falling apart. You leaned back, eyes closed, letting out a long sigh.

Joel didn’t know what to do. He could hear the faint sound of water splashing upstairs, and he felt conflicted. Part of him wanted to go up, to check on you, to make sure you were really okay. But the other part of him knew how fragile this moment was. If you knew he was there, would you shut down again?

So, he stayed put, his leg bouncing with nervous energy as he listened to the faint sounds of life coming from upstairs. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And for now, that was enough.

After your bath, you wrapped yourself in an oversized hoodie, your legs bare beneath it. You didn’t think much about it as you padded downstairs, your hair still damp and sticking to your neck. For the first time in weeks, you felt hungry enough to try making yourself something to eat.

As you descended the stairs, Joel caught sight of you, and his breath hitched. He hadn’t seen you this close in weeks, and the sight of you knocked the air from his lungs. You looked so much thinner than he remembered, your cheeks hollowed and your frame smaller beneath the loose hoodie.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel whispered, his voice heavy with worry as he stood and started toward you.

You froze on the bottom step, gripping the railing tightly as his words hung in the air. The raw emotion in his tone—the mix of concern and sadness—hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to do.

Joel slowed his approach, raising his hands slightly as if to show he wasn’t going to push. “I didn’t mean to scare ya,” he said softly. “I just… I wasn’t expectin’ to see you.”

You looked away, your eyes darting toward the kitchen. “I was just gonna make something to eat,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse from lack of use.

Joel’s heart twisted at how small and fragile you seemed. He wanted to say a million things—to ask if you were okay, to tell you how worried he’d been, to apologize for not doing more sooner—but he held back, not wanting to overwhelm you.

“Let me help,” he said gently, nodding toward the kitchen. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around the railing. Part of you wanted to tell him no, to insist you could manage on your own. But another part—the part that felt so worn down and tired—wanted to let him in, just this once.

“Okay,” you whispered, barely audible.

Joel gave you a small, reassuring smile and gestured toward the kitchen. “C’mon. Let’s get you somethin’ to eat.”

As you followed him into the kitchen, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth in your chest. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

As you shuffled into the kitchen, Joel’s gaze unintentionally drifted down, and he realized you were only wearing an oversized hoodie. His eyes lingered on your bare legs for a moment too long, the sight catching him off guard.

His cheeks warmed as a faint pink crept over them, and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. “Uh, you want eggs? I can whip some up real quick,” he said, his voice a little strained as he busied himself at the stove.

You nodded, not noticing his brief lapse, and moved to sit at the table. “Yeah… eggs sound good.”

Joel cracked a few eggs into the pan, his movements a little more deliberate than usual as he tried to distract himself. Get a grip, Joel, he scolded himself. She needed help, not… whatever the hell that was.

The sizzle of the eggs filled the room as he worked, sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye. You looked so small, sitting there with your hands in your lap, your damp hair sticking to the side of your face. The sight tugged at something deep in his chest, pulling him back to his primary focus—making sure you were okay.

He placed a plate of eggs in front of you a few minutes later, leaning slightly over the table. “Eat up,” he said gently, his voice softening. “You need it.”

You murmured a quiet “thanks” before picking up your fork, and Joel took a seat across from you, keeping his eyes firmly on your face this time. For now, he told himself, it was enough just to be there for you.

As you picked at the eggs Joel had made, you glanced up at him briefly, noticing how tired he looked. His brows were furrowed, and his jaw was tense, though he was trying to mask it. You realized, maybe for the first time, that all of this—your isolation, your grief—might have been weighing on him too.

The thought sent a pang of guilt through you. You hadn’t considered how your downward spiral could be affecting anyone else, let alone Joel. He’d been coming around, checking on you, probably worrying nonstop, and you’d barely acknowledged it.

Your grip tightened on your fork as shame bubbled up inside you. “I’m sorry,” you said suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s head snapped up, his expression softening as he met your eyes. “What for?”

You shrugged, looking down at your plate. “For… shutting you out. For making you worry. I didn’t mean to…” Your words trailed off, and you swallowed hard, unsure how to finish the sentence.

Joel leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Hey,” he said gently, his voice steady and reassuring. “You don’t need to apologize for that. You’ve been through a lot, more than anyone should have to deal with.”

You nodded slightly but didn’t look up, the guilt still gnawing at you.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I ain’t gonna lie—it’s been hard seein’ you like this. But I’m not mad, and I don’t want you feelin’ bad for leanin’ on me, alright? That’s what I’m here for.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt your throat tighten. You nodded again, this time meeting his eyes briefly before looking away.

“Thanks, Joel,” you murmured, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a small, fragile spark of hope that things could get better.

As you glanced up at Joel again, your eyes lingered on him a little longer this time. The feelings you’d been trying to bury for weeks came rushing back, hitting you all at once. Despite the exhaustion etched into his face, the slight dark circles under his eyes, and the way his shoulders seemed heavier than usual, he still looked devastatingly handsome.

His hair was slightly tousled, strands of gray catching the kitchen light just right. The lines on his face only made him look more rugged, more… Joel. And the way he looked at you—with that steady, unshakable concern—made your heart ache in ways you didn’t know how to handle.

You quickly looked down at your plate again, your cheeks warming. You felt ridiculous, sitting there in your oversized hoodie, barely holding yourself together, and yet your mind was consumed with how much you wanted him.

Joel noticed the shift in your demeanor, the way you fidgeted slightly with your fork. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low and laced with concern.

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to speak. If he kept looking at you like that—with those warm, tired eyes—you were sure you’d say something you couldn’t take back.

Joel leaned back slightly, still watching you. “You sure?” he pressed gently.

You forced a small smile, nodding again. “Yeah… just tired,” you managed to say, though your voice betrayed the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Joel seemed to accept it, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked away, his brow furrowing slightly. You couldn’t tell if he was buying your excuse or if he just didn’t want to push you too hard.

Either way, you were relieved—and maybe a little disappointed.

Your foot brushed against his under the table, tentative at first, but then you left it there, resting lightly against his. Joel froze for a moment, his fork stopping halfway to his mouth. He glanced at you with a confused look, his brows furrowing slightly as he tried to read your expression.

You met his gaze innocently, a small, almost playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“What are you doin’, darlin’?” Joel asked, his voice low, carrying both curiosity and caution.

You shrugged slightly, your smile widening just enough to let him know it wasn’t an accident. “Nothing,” you said softly, tilting your head as you watched him.

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in that way he did when he was trying to figure something out. His jaw tightened, and he leaned back in his chair, his foot staying planted firmly on the floor now.

“You shouldn’t… do that,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but firm, though there was a hint of something unsteady underneath.

“Do what?” you asked, your tone light, almost teasing.

Joel gave you a look that was a mix of exasperation and something else—something deeper, something he was trying desperately to suppress. “You know what,” he muttered, glancing away briefly, like he couldn’t hold your gaze for too long.

You could see the faint pink rising in his cheeks, and it made your heart race. You didn’t push further, but you left your foot resting where it was, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at how easily you could fluster him.

Joel cleared his throat and picked up his fork again, though his movements were stiffer now. He didn’t look at you as he focused on finishing the meal, but you could tell by the tension in his shoulders that you were on his mind.

-

You leaned back in the chair, resting a hand on your stomach as you let out a content sigh. “That was great. Thank you,” you said, your voice warm and genuine.

Joel finally looked up at you, his expression softening as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Glad you liked it, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You needed it.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. It wasn’t just about the food—it was about the fact that he cared enough to make sure you ate, to be here when you hadn’t let anyone else in.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” you said softly, your gaze lingering on him.

Joel shrugged, leaning back in his own chair. “Somebody had to. Can’t have you wasting away on my watch.”

His tone was light, but there was something serious behind his eyes, something that made your chest tighten. You didn’t know how to respond, so you just nodded again, letting the moment hang in the air between you.

Joel stood up after a moment, collecting your plate along with his. “You want anything else? Somethin’ sweet, maybe?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You shook your head. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

He nodded and carried the dishes to the sink, his movements deliberate and steady. You watched him for a moment, feeling that familiar warmth creep into your chest again. Joel always seemed to know how to anchor you, even when you felt like you were drifting.

And then you thought maybe you did want something sweet

“Not unless you’re on the menu”

Joel froze mid-step, your words hitting him like a ton of bricks. His back was to you, but you could see the way his shoulders tensed, his grip tightening slightly on the plates he was holding.

He set them down in the sink carefully, taking a moment before turning around to face you. His eyes met yours, a mixture of surprise and something darker simmering beneath the surface.

“Darlin’,” he said slowly, his voice lower now, almost a warning. “You don’t wanna be sayin’ things like that.”

You tilted your head slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on your lips. “Why not?” you asked, your tone teasing but your heart pounding.

Joel took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because you don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” he said, his voice steady but strained, like he was holding something back.

You leaned back in the chair, still meeting his gaze, challenging him. “Maybe I do.”

Joel let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he looked away for a moment, trying to compose himself. “You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart,” he muttered, shaking his head.

But you could see it in his eyes when he looked back at you—he was tempted, and it was taking everything in him to keep his distance.

Despite the lingering grief and the weight of everything you’d been carrying, there was one thing you couldn’t ignore: you wanted him. It wasn’t just a fleeting thought or a harmless crush—it was a deep, undeniable pull. And as much as Joel tried to keep his composure, you could see it in his eyes, in the way his resolve faltered when he looked at you. Deep down, you knew he wanted you too.

You rose from your chair slowly, your bare feet quiet against the floor as you stepped closer to him. Joel watched you carefully, his jaw tightening, his hands gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Joel,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to break the silence between you.

His name hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he spoke. “This ain’t right,” he murmured, though his voice lacked the conviction it had before.

You took another step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. “Maybe not,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But it feels right.”

Joel’s breathing deepened, his chest rising and falling as he stared at you. “You’re still grieving,” he said, his voice strained. “You’re not thinkin’ straight.”

“I’ve been grieving for weeks,” you countered, your voice steadying. “But this… you… you’re the only thing that’s felt real in a long time.”

Joel closed his eyes briefly, his hands flexing against the counter as if he were fighting some internal battle. When he opened them again, there was something raw in his gaze, something that made your breath catch.

“Darlin’,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion, “you have no idea what you’re doin’ to me.”

You stepped even closer, your hand brushing lightly against his arm. “Then show me,” you whispered, your voice daring yet pleading.

Joel’s jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours one last time before he exhaled sharply, his resolve finally breaking.

You stood there, barely an inch away from him, your breath shallow, heart racing. The desire for him flooded you, and in that moment, you knew you needed him. The weight of the grief and the isolation was still there, but it no longer seemed as important. He was right in front of you, his presence undeniable, and you didn't want to back down.

You reached up, your hand gently touching his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Joel's eyes flickered down to your hand, and for a moment, he seemed to lose himself, his breathing becoming heavier. He still tried to hold back, his jaw tightening in restraint.

"I won't stop," you said softly, but with conviction, your voice trembling with the intensity of everything you were feeling. "Not until you're with me."

Joel's gaze snapped back to yours, his lips parting slightly. The tension in the

room was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the silence hanging heavy as you waited for him to say something-anything.

But instead, he took a slow step closer, his hand coming to rest on your waist. His touch was firm, but the way he looked at you-like he was trying to make a decision he wasn't ready for— made your pulse spike.

"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, his voice strained. "You don't need this right now."

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to let him retreat any longer. "I need you," you whispered, the words leaving your lips before you could stop them. The admission felt like both a relief and a weight, but you didn't care anymore. You weren't going to back down.

Joel's resolve finally cracked. He closed the distance between you, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss that was both desperate and filled with raw, unspoken emotion. It wasn't gentle or soft-it was heated, urgent, like he'd been holding back for far too long.

And you kissed him back, fiercely, knowing that in this moment, you both needed this. Needed each other.

Joel's groan vibrated against your lips as you deepened the kiss, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. The world outside of the kitchen faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in a moment of intense longing. His grip on your neck tightened, pulling you closer as if he couldn't get enough of you.

You responded with equal intensity, matching his urgency, your heart racing as you felt his every movement, every shift of his body against yours.

The kiss grew more feverish, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the warmth of his body, and the undeniable chemistry between you.

Joel's hand slid down your back, pressing you closer to him, his lips trailing to your neck, leaving soft, heated kisses in their wake. He paused

for a moment, his breath heavy, and you could feel the tension in him—the struggle between what he wanted and what he knew was right.

"Darlin"," he breathed against your skin, his voice strained, "this... this can't happen."

But despite his protests, his body betrays him once again. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he struggles to control himself.

He nips at your neck, his lips and teeth marking your skin in a possessive gesture. "But I want you so badly," he growls, his voice laced with frustration.

The sound of your moan sends a shiver down Joel's spine, his resolve crumbling even further. He lets out a curse, his hands moving to grip your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh.

He lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you over to the couch and laying you down on it. He hovers over you, his body pressed against yours, his breathing ragged.

Joel gazes down at you, his eyes dark with lust and desire. He runs his hands over your body, his touch rough and possessive, as if he's claiming you as his own.

He kisses you hungrily, his tongue delving into your mouth as he devours you. He moves his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of marks behind.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he growls against your skin. "How many times I've imagined having you like this."

Joel can feel your body trembling beneath him, and he knows that you're just as affected by this as he is. He lifts his head, looking down at you with a mixture of hunger and adoration.

"I've tried to fight it," he confesses, his voice rough with emotion. "Tried to ignore these feelings, to keep my distance. But every time I see you, every time I hear your voice, I lose a little more control."

“Oh Joel, no more talking and just kiss me already” you teased

Joel lets out a low chuckle, his lips curving into a smirk. He loves the way you tease him, the way you challenge him.

"As you wish, darlin'," he replies, his voice dripping with desire.

He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fierce intensity. He kisses you like a man starved, like he's been waiting his whole life for this moment.

Joel lets out a shuddering breath as you continue to grind against him, the sensation driving him absolutely wild. He can feel himself losing his mind, his control slipping further and further away with each passing moment.

He grits his teeth, trying to hold back his urges, but it's getting harder and harder to resist. He lets out a strained moan, his hips bucking involuntarily to meet yours.

"You're driving me crazy, sweetheart," he growls, his voice low and desperate.

You reach down to fumble with his belt, desperately trying to get it undone and free the thing you wanted the most

Joel watches you with hooded eyes as you struggle with his belt, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He can feel the heat of your hand against him, and it's driving him absolutely insane.

He helps you with the belt, unbuckling it and quickly tossing it aside. He then makes quick work of his jeans, shoving them down his hips along with his boxers.

With his already leaking cock free, Joel grabs both hems of your underwear and slowly but swiftly pulls them down and off exposing your aching cunt

Joel lets out a low, guttural groan as he finally sees you completely bare before him. He can't help but stare for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "And all mine."

Joel continues to kiss and nip at your thighs, slowly working his way closer to your core. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, your breathing growing heavier with each passing second.

He reaches your center, his breath hot against your skin. He looks up at you, his eyes burning with desire, before he leans in and licks a slow, teasing stripe up your slit.

Joel grins against your skin as he feels you arch your back, your fingers tangling in his hair. He loves the way you respond to his touch, the way your body reacts to his every move.

He continues to tease you with his tongue, lapping at your folds and circling your clit. He knows exactly what drives you wild, and he's not afraid to use that knowledge to his advantage.

Your head was spinning, you almost couldn’t believe that this was really happening, after everything, But one thing you did know, you needed more.

“Joel, please”

Joel can't help but smirk at your pleading tone, the sound of his name on your lips like music to his ears. He loves it when you beg for him, loves the way you surrender to him completely.

He relents, no longer able to resist your pleas. He moves his mouth to your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard.

Joel lets out a low growl as you tug at his hair, the sharp sensation only fueling his desire for you. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue flicking and swirling around your clit with renewed fervor.

He slides a hand up your thigh, his fingers teasing at your entrance before slowly pushing inside.

“Joel-“ you breathed, you wanted more than just his fingers, you appreciated the foreplay but you’ve already done this to yourself countless of times thinking about him that you wanted him fully..

Joel could sense your growing impatience, and he knew exactly what you wanted. He knew you'd been thinking about him too, and the thought of you touching yourself to the thought of him drove him wild.

He continued to work his fingers inside you, his pace quickening as he sought to bring you to the edge. But he could sense your need for more, and he wasn't going to deny you any longer.

He lifted his head, his lips hovering just above yours as he spoke in a rough whisper.

"Tell me what you want, baby."

“I-I want you, your cock”

Joel's eyes darken with desire at your words, and he can't hold back a low, guttural moan.

"You want my cock, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "You want me to fill you up, make you mine?"

You just nodded hoping he could see, you were done talking

Joel could see the desperation in your eyes, the need etched across your face. He knew you were beyond words now, and he was more than happy to oblige.

He moved quickly, positioning himself between your legs and lining himself up with your entrance. He looked down at you, his gaze burning with desire.

"Hold on tight, baby," he growled. "This is going to be rough."

Trying to physically and mentally prepare yourself for what’s about to come

Joel watches you prepare yourself, his chest heaving with anticipation. He can see the mix of nervousness and excitement in your eyes, and it only fuels his own desire.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he slowly pushes into you. He groans against your mouth, the feeling of you around him overwhelming his senses.

Finally.

Joel lets out a low, shuddering breath as he fully sheathes himself inside you. The feeling of being buried to the hilt is almost too much for him to handle, and he has to take a moment to compose himself.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

"You feel so good, baby," he whispers, his voice rough with pleasure. "So tight and perfect for me."

You clench around him, adjusting to his size

Joel lets out a strangled groan as you clench around him, the sensation almost too much for him to bear.

"Fuck," he curses, his grip on your hips tightening as he tries to maintain some semblance of control. "Do that again, baby. Please."

You continue to do it craving the way Joel is responding to it

Joel's eyes roll back in his head as you continue to clench around him, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. He can't hold back the moans and curses that fall from his lips, his hips instinctively bucking against you.

"You're going to be the death of me," he growls, his voice strained with pleasure. "I can't take much more of this, sweetheart."

Joel starts to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first. He savors the feeling of being inside you, the way your body clings to him with each movement.

But his control quickly starts to slip, his need for you overtaking any semblance of restraint he once had. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder and more desperate as he chases his own pleasure.

Your gasping with each thrust as he hits the end of you so deliciously, nails digging into his back as he moves

Joel hisses as your nails dig into his back, the sharp pain only adding to the pleasure he's feeling. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, can hear the gasps and moans falling from your lips with each thrust.

He leans down, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he loses himself in the sensation of being inside you. His hips snap against yours, driving himself deeper and deeper with each thrust.

Joel’s hitting all the right spots and you can feel yourself bubbling closer and closer to the edge

“Fuck- Joel” you stammer “I’m so close”

Joel can feel you getting closer and closer to the edge, your walls clenching around him with each thrust. He can sense your desperation, your body trembling with need.

He lifts his head, his eyes locking onto yours as he drives into you harder and faster.

"That’s it darlin," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "Cum for me”

You reach down to start rubbing your clit, desperate for your release

Joel watches as you reach down to rub your clit, his eyes darkening with desire at the sight. He can't help but groan at the image, the thought of you touching yourself while he's inside you driving him wild.

"That's my girl" he encourages, his hips bucking against yours as he continues to thrust into you. "Rub that clit for me. I want to feel you come undone around my cock."

And so you do. Coming undone completely as your eyes go dark and the sensation sends an electric pulse through your entire body as you tremble, moaning beneath him

Joel watches as you come undone beneath him, your body trembling and your moans echoing through the room. The sight is enough to send him over the edge, his own release crashing over him like a tidal wave.

“Fuck sweetheart, I’m gonna cum” He buries his face in your neck, letting out a strangled groan as he spills himself inside you. His hips continue to jerk against yours, riding out the waves of pleasure until he's spent and panting for breath.

He lays there on top of you for a while before getting up and quickly heads to the bathroom to grab a warm, damp cloth. He wants to take care of you, to clean you up and make sure you're comfortable after what just happened.

He returns to the couch a moment later, gently parting your legs and using the cloth to clean away the mess he’s made in between your legs. His touch is gentle and tender, his eyes soft as he focuses on taking care of you.

Joel slides his underwear back on and lifts you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carries you to your bed. He's always loved how small and fragile you feel in his arms, how you fit against him perfectly.

He lays you down gently on the bed, tucking the blankets around you before climbing in beside you. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight against his chest.

Joel held you tightly, his chin resting atop your head as his hand stroked your back in slow, soothing circles. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear grounded you, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe.

You cuddled into Joel, burying your face against his chest as his warmth surrounded you. His scent—faintly of soap, coffee, and something distinctly him—was soothing, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

His arms tightened around you protectively, and you felt the steady rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took. It was calming, like a silent reassurance that everything was okay.

You let out a quiet sigh, allowing yourself to melt into him. Joel’s hand moved to rest gently on your back, his touch slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to remind you he wasn’t going anywhere.

a/n: soo that happened 🥴 I couldn’t wait any longer to get the show on the road lmao

[a-regular-amount-of-spiders]

When's The Last Time You Felt Safe (BirdFlash)

Birdflash Oneshot, 18+ Details Below

Caretaker Dom Wally, silly fluffy smut. Some Emotional Hurt/Comfort Dick winces as he tries to gingerly press an ice pack against his back, the top of his suit striped off on the floor. He’d been shot, luckily nothing that made it past his armor, but unluckily bruising the hell out of his back. He’s got green, purple, red, and blue dappled all across his body from the night, trying to get too many kids away from too many traffickers. His breath hitches as the memory of the limp bodies of the people he’d failed refuse to leave him. The mission had objectively been as successful as it could have been, but it didn’t feel like enough. He never felt like enough and he was just so very tired. Tired enough to miss the flash of red and orange as it blitzed into his room, but not so much that he didn't flinch as the ice pack was taken from him. He twisted around so quickly that his body screamed in protest, and he winced as he took in the concerned face of Wally, dressed in sweats and a soft shirt. You okay Rob?” Those verdant eyes stare down at him, the worry held within barely covering the steely stubbornness that lets Dick know that Wally won’t accept a lie right now. He shifts a bit uncomfortably, turning away, as though he could hide from the hurt festering in every grain of his soul these days. “You worry too much Walls.” He replies, instead of answering the question. Even looking away he can’t stand to lie to him. He hears the man sigh, and feels the air in the room circulate. When Dick opens his eyes, Wally is crouched in front of him, so he can make eye contact, resting his hands lightly on Dick’s knees. “Let me take care of you?” He asks, so earnestly that Dick feels guilty for the rush it sends down his spine, shame twisting in his gut immediately. Horrifyingly he wants to cry, as though he remembers how, and just let Wally bear the weight of the world for him. But he can’t, he couldn’t stand the guilt that would follow. Dick cannot allow himself to be selfish, it never ends well. So he swallowed thickly, and forced the correct words out. “You don’t have to do that.” Dick knows that’s what he’s supposed to say, which would prompt Wally, all midwestern politeness, to ask ‘are you sure’ and Dick would say yes, Wally would leave and he’d be all alone again, no one around, a poison no one wants- “I want to. Please let me.” Wally breaks the script, squeezing his knees and breaking Dick out of his thoughts. He’s saying “Okay” before he can even register that he’s spoken. But Wally is smiling so maybe that was exactly what he was supposed to say. “Do you want to be in something more comfortable?” He asks carefully, because Wally figured out ages ago that Dick got weird about touch sometimes, and now he always telegraphed, always asked. Dick hated it. He needed it, and he hates that he needs it. It was different when they were younger. He misses that. He nods though, because he never minds when Wally gets in his space, and he’ll be out of his suit before he can overthink it. There’s no one else who can do this for him, so he may as well take advantage of the times it is offered.

 Wally cleans up his things, and he thinks he hears his laundry starting which he’s been ignoring for two weeks now. Wally helps him change into sweats and it makes the heat of embarrassment swell in his chest, is he really this incapable? But there’s food in his lap and the tv is flipped on to a silly movie he’d mentioned wanting to see once, and Wally is asking if he can put some sort of ointment on his bruises so Dick doesn’t have time to dwell too deeply on it. He looks at the plate of warm pizza slices now in his hands, the box on the table from that place he’d found by the Titan’s Tower and always got for celebrations. “You ran to Jump City to get me dinner?” Dick mutters, unable to muster enough energy for incredulity just yet. “All things considered, that’s not very far for me” Wally replies, shaking the ointment in his hand with a raised brow. Dick nods, taking a bite of the pizza. It’s a comforting, familiar taste that warms his whole body. Nostalgia that chases the icy loneliness from the edges of his body. He scarfs it down quickly, feeling significantly better. He hadn’t realized how woozy and cold he’d felt until it went away. “Better?” He can hear the smile in Wally’s voice as he stands behind him, long fingers gently rubbing the bruise cream along the injuries spotting his back. Dick tries to pay attention to the movie, but the feeling of Wally’s hand skating so gently across his skin is better than any lullaby. A blanket is pulled over him, and the heaviness of the weighted fabric is soothing, but there’s a lingering self hatred lying in the shadow of Dick’s enjoyment. “Yeah” He responds, rough and quiet, feeling raw and shelled out. He shivers when Wally moves away. His friend plops down on the couch, propping one leg up so it’s resting against the backrest, and the other is hanging off the side. “C’mere Rob, I’ve got you.” Wally says, so painfully tender. Dick tips over curling against the lean line of his best friend, a long buried ache settling as those lithe arms wrap around him loosely. He shakes apart without a sound, he doesn’t know if he could make noise when he cried even if he really wanted to. Or if the strangled sort of way emotions tear out of him could even be called crying. Wally’s fingers card through his hair. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t press, doesn’t insist on seeing, but he doesn’t awkwardly turn away either. Wally comforts him in a way that helps, understands him in a way no one else ever bothered to learn. He’s a steady, patient presence at his side, and Dick can’t help but feel like an alley cat being coaxed from a crack in the wall. “A lot of people died today” He whispers into the fabric of Wally’s central city college shirt. The hand in his hair pauses, before continuing. So Dick keeps talking. “I should have found them faster. If I’d kept a better eye on my city then I would have known sooner and I-” He cuts himself off “I know that’s not reasonable. I know it won’t fix it. I just-” He wishes the crushing feeling would go away “I wish it got easier. I wish I didn’t feel this way every single time” Wally doesn’t tell him it isn’t his fault, doesn’t tell him he did his best, doesn’t give him the argument he wants and doesn’t need. Doesn’t give him the space to hurt himself on his own words. Instead he just holds him close, and says “I know, Rob” and somehow breathing gets easier. “You don’t have to stay.” Dick says, even as his arms wrap tightly around Wally’s waist. Even as he presses just a little closer. “If I leave, will you be able to sleep?” Wally asks in that measured tone, the one he uses when he knows the answer. Dick doesn’t answer, and feels petulant for it. He presses his face into Wally’s chest and cries more, letting his guard down for the first time in however long it's been since Wally stayed the night last. Dick cries, as much as he ever can, until he falls asleep, falling again, always falling.

Dick wakes up slowly, to the warm smell of a fresh made breakfast. He still feels like he’s falling until Wally's head peeks around the corner, hair a mess and grin wild, some dollar store apron tied with a messy bow. That’s when his body realizes that there’s someone here to catch him this time, that he was finally right to make the leap. He smiles back, hauling himself up to follow the delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen.

“You made breakfast?” Dick asks, despite seeing the huge spread across his too small dining table.

“Well I was hungry, and someone has got to take care of you” Wally’s voice is low in his ear and Dick shifts a bit uncomfortably. Why does he have to get so close when he says things like that? Next thing he knows, he’s sitting at the table, plate piled high with food, staring bewildered at Wally.

“I-” He blinks, adjusting to being moved somewhere by a speedster, “I can’t eat all these Walls.” He takes a bite of the pancakes, and groans “Nevermind, I’m eating everything at this table.”

Wally laughs “C’mon man, I know how to look after you by now.” His keen gaze suddenly makes Dick feel transparent, and a part of him frantically wonders why in god's name Wally has to talk to him like that, but he’s able to suppress his reaction with the ease of someone who’s been doing it since his teen years.

“You don’t have to help me this much, you know?” Dick protests weekly between bites. “No?” Wally hums noncommittal, pressing a glass of water into Dick’s hand. “And if I want to?” There’s something almost predatory about the way he asks it, but perhaps that’s wishful thinking. “Then…” He takes a sip of water  “Then go ahead I guess.” There’s a strange tension in the kitchen as he eats, Dick can tell Wally’s attention is more on him than on the food in front of him, which is making him feel a bit hysterical given that very little pulls a speedster’s attention away from their food. Wally’s gaze holds a weight to it, and Dick has to keep reminding himself that Wally is probably just worried. He resolutely ignores the part of his mind noting that he feels mostly alright now, and that Wally knows him well enough to see that. He finishes his food and tucks all his emotions in a box, standing and putting his plate away. The table is cleared and the dishes are done by the time he reaches the sink. He smiles at his friend, who still has that slightly too serious expression on his face that leaves Dick feeling off kilter, and on edge. He can tell there’s something being left unsaid, and Wally wants him to be fully aware of that. However, Dick can’t bring himself to ask. Irrationally and despite all insistence otherwise, he can’t prevent himself from being scared that if he asks, if they broach whatever conversation is hanging in the air, that Wally will put distance between them. He’s scared that Wally will ask for space, or tell him that he’s aware of and doesn’t share Dick’s feelings. That those feelings make him uncomfortable. Wally waits a moment, and can’t hide the disappointment that briefly laces his expression. Seeing that is like a lance, and Dick wants very badly to make it up to him, would that he knew the cause of the disappointment to begin with. “Wanna play a game or something?” Dick hedges, only relaxing when he sees Wally’s smile return. “How about you pick something to play, and I work out some of the tension in your shoulders and back? Your controllers have too much input lag for me.” Wally replies, following Dick into the living room, and watching him pick out a game. “Doesn’t every controller have too much input lag for you?” Dick asks, letting Wally pull him into the space between his legs, hands resting on his shoulders as he launches some game Tim had gotten him. “Victor made some specialty ones for me after I broke too many in the Tower. I think Tim has been making updated ones for Bart.” Wally massages his shoulders, head propped up on top of Dick’s so he can watch him play.

“Why don’t you run and grab them?” he replies, repressing a shudder as Wally’s hands smooth down his back, skillfully applied pressure releasing the long held tension in his back. Long fingers leave sparks of pleasant warmth in wake, overtaking the pervasive dull soreness. Dick is internally proud of his self control until those hands skate down his sides, grip resting firm on his hips so Wally can whisper in his ear; “You’re doing so well Dickie” Wally’s voice is low, his breath ghosting the shell of Dick’s ear. A bolt of arousal shoots down his spine and he is barely able to suppress the accompanying whimper. He really hopes Wally doesn’t look down, because then he’ll definitely never want to touch Dick again for any reason. “I’m not really doing anything” He replies, glad for how normal he sounds. He wants to bang his head into a wall until he has something resembling sense when Wally squeezes the meat of his thighs, because now even sitting still is a struggle. “Sure you are. You’re letting me help you. You’re trusting me” Wally is still extremely close, tone almost heady. His grip loosens so his hands can drift up Dick’s legs, thumbs resting on his more sensitive inner thigh. Wally keeps talking even though Dick’s breath is stuttering and he’s squeezed his eyes shut, holding perfectly still. “This okay? If it’s not that’s alright. I won’t be upset, all you gotta do is say. And we can go back to just hanging out” Wally sounds perfectly calm, and Dick hates him a bit for it, because Wally is brushing his fingers over the tent of his jeans and Dick’s head falls back against his shoulder as he gasps. “Yes. It’s okay, Jesus Christ Walls” His voice is high and ready as Wally dips one hand beneath his shirt, the other one palming him with just enough force to make Dick shake, legs jerking in response to the overwhelming pleasure that dances across all his nerves. Wally nips his ear, then starts mouthing at his neck. “You’re so gorgeous like this. In my hands, letting me do what I want. Letting me treat you like the precious thing you are.” His voice is gravely, and he tugs Dick flush against his chest, grinding forward into him. Dick chokes on nothing as he feels the burning warmth of Wally’s own arousal against him. The words are as effective as any touch, making Dick reach back and grab Wally’s hair, pulling until his face is the right angle to kiss. The kiss is messy and a touch desperate, vaguely following the rhythm of his hips as they roll. Wally flicks the button of his jeans open, biting down on his bottom lip, pulling away. Dick tries to follow eagerly, but Wally yanks him back by his hair, watching with dark satisfaction as it makes him keen. “Still okay?” He sounds breathless, and Dick nods eagerly. “Mind taking this to your room?” His thumb is stroking tender circles into his cheek, like he’s something delicate. Dick turns his hand to bite down on the tip of it, just to watch those green eyes widen, and hear his breath hitch. Dick looks up at him through his eyelashes, licking the pad of his finger.

“Please, Wally?” He lets the desperate little whine building in his throat twist the edge of his words, and hides a smile behind a pout when he sees Wally’s blush spread to the tips of his ears.

Next thing he knows he’s flat on his back, spread across his bright blue comforter, Wally kneeling between his legs. Wally grins down at him, shirt and pants long gone.

  “Can I strip you sweetheart?” He asks, rubbing the outside of Dick’s thighs. Dick cant help but think he looks gorgeous, pink down to his chest, freckles dappling his skin, and the sun catching his green eyes in such a way that Dick can see the flecks of yellow and brown. He nods, cataloging the way Wally looks, just in case he doesn’t get to see it again. The adoration in his eyes, the hard line of his dick straining against his black briefs, and those strong runner’s thighs spreading his own apart. Dick nods again, expecting to have it happen before he can even register it, but Wally takes his time, pulling Dick’s shirt off and kissing every inch of newly exposed skin. Dick lets out a slow breath, tension releasing and back arching languidly into his touch. Wally stops at his shoulders, moving up to kiss his lips, slow and sweet.

“I want you to say it. Tell me what you want Rob.” There’s certainly a sharp edge to his voice, which makes all the blood vacate Dick’s brain. “I…” Dick takes a deep breath, trying to clear the haze that had settled over his brain. “I want you to make me feel good. I want you to tell me what to do. I’m so tired of thinking, and making choices, I just wanna…” “Let go?” Wally finishes as he finally pulls Dick’s shirt over his head, then helps him shimmy out of his underwear and sweats. Dick watches Wally, loving the way his eyes flick across his body, like he can’t pick a place to look.

“Settle in Rob” Wally picks up his leg, pulling it over his shoulder and kissing down the length of it. “When I’m done you won’t be thinking of anything other than how amazing you feel. Wally bites his inner thigh, just below the apex of his hip. Kissing everything but the place Dick wants his mouth the most. Just as he’s about to open his mouth to complain- or beg, but no one can prove that- Wally licks across the head of his cock, and his tongue vibrates. Dick goes taught, back arching as he swears. “F-fuck!” he yelps “You can do that?”

“Perks of being a Speedster” Wally quips, kissing along the length of him, fingers encircling the base and vibrating. Wally has to hold his hips down as he takes him into his mouth, the sensation is so intense that before he knows it Dick is whiting out, coming down Wally’s throat with a reedy moan. Wally pulls off, kissing Dick and licking into his mouth, the taste of himself on Wally’s tongue has him groaning, wrapping his arms around Wally’s shoulders. His head feels fuzzy and the haze of pleasure leaves him forgetting why speaking without a filter as a terrible idea- “I love you so much Wally” He smiles blissfully. Wally, to his credit, doesn’t even pause.

“I love you too Rob, so very much. You’re so good and sweet for me. You’re doing so well.” Wally praising him has Dick squirming in his happy haze. “Fuck me?” He requests, hooking his free leg up high on Wally’s back to leverage himself such that he can grind up against him.

“Christ Rob” Wally groans, hips stuttering. “You’re so needy, gotta let me take care of you. I’m gonna be so good to you babe” He’s gone for just a moment, back before Dick’s leg can even lower, lube in hand. “Did you run while turned on?” Dick grins, distinctly amused, coherent thought returning slowly. Wally raises a brow. “What happens at that pace is between me and the speed force” He responds, pouring lube in his hand and stroking along Dick’s semi, tracing down along his perineum and circling Dick’s hole. Dick flinches at the slight vibration he feels before the finger is before pressing in. “You’re p-pretty good at that” He looks up at Wally, eyes almost black from pupils blown wide with want. It settles an ache he hadn’t realized had been weighing him down. Seeing Wally above him, blushing down to his chest, grinning like he can’t believe his luck, finally allows Dick to let go of the painful yearning he’s pushed to the backburner for over a decade.

“Yeah?” Wally grins, confident is a good look on him, “Just wait till I learn all your buttons” He presses another finger in, hooking them and managing to press right against Dick’s sweetspot. The hot molten feeling from before washes over his body again, leaving him shaking and floaty, nails digging into the lines of Wally’s back. He pulls himself up enough to moan right in Wally’s ear as he rolls his hips against him. “Don’t forget- you’re not the only one learning” He nips down the column of Wally’s neck, fascinated by the way that the bruises disappear from his pale skin. Wally’s rhythm breaks for a moment, and he can’t help his smug satisfaction and the way Wally groans like his orgasm was ripped from his chest. “You better be ready boy wonder, cause that was mean” Wally pulls his fingers away, but doesn’t actually do anything until Dick gives a beyond exaggerated “please”, which makes them both laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” Wally looks bright and unburdened by all the years that have passed between them as he presses into Dick. Dick can’t help but clench down at the feeling, squirming even after Wally presses to the hilt, hips twitching. Dick feels giddy, and full, and more relaxed than he can even remember ever being. He pulls Wally into another sloppy kiss, burying his hands in soft hair. “I love you Wally” He kisses the freckles on his face. “You’re perfect” Wally starts fucking into him at an almost blinding place, body humming like he can’t quite help it. He kisses all across Dick, like he can’t pick any given part of him. “Says the most perfect man I’ve ever seen. You’re so gorgeous, I’ve been wondering so long if you’d let me do this. Trust me like this.” Wally is talking almost too fast to hear, only years of practice enabling Dick to keep up. “I love everything about you, who you are, your smile, all the stupid shit that drives me insane. You’re so cute too, when you get all flustered. But I never could have imagined how you’d look like this. So pretty and sweet and relaxed-” Wally continues to praise him until they’re both babbling, and Dick isn’t really sure where the before and after points of their orgasms were. Only that eventually they slowed down, and Wally cleaned him up, fed him, and pulled him into his arms. And everything felt okay, at least right there, in that moment. Nothing was wrong. “I meant it Rob. I love you. I wanna be with you, if you let me.” Wally kisses his hair, rubbing his back. “It’s always been you, for me. Safety, home. Whatever you want to call it.” Dick looks at him, bright blue eyes as piercing as they always have been, complemented by the blush high on his cheeks. “I want you in every way I can have you.” “You deserve more than that, you know? Then taking what you can get” Wally lightly brushes the hair out of his eyes. “Hm, maybe you can prove that to me?” Dick smiles, unburdened.

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chaebol!jungkook (8) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist closed.

note: for my og readers... iykyk

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @kekerrreke @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

jungkook doesn't know if he's gone completely mad or if he's just mad.

it's so blurry right now. the difference in feeling, the moment, the way he feels like he lost all control. it's so strange. in his head, he knows it isn't that bad. so what if you've been ignoring his texts for the past two weeks. so what if you've been absent from all the events he expects to see you and your fiancé at. so fucking what?

so what if he storms downstairs and knocks on your door?

he brought three excuses to offer you but as he stands in front of your door, his knees go weak. he ignores his gut feeling to follow his heart. without another thought, jungkook knocks on your door.

once.

twice.

then, he loses it. he begins to bang on your door like a fucking psycho.

just as he takes a breath, you open the door. wide-eyed, you stare at him in complete shock. then, when you find your words, you spit them at him. "are you out of your fucking mind?"

jungkook takes a step inside your home.

"are you?" he hisses. "two weeks? leaving me after we fucked and i fell asleep was one thing, but ignoring me for two weeks is another. do you get that? what the fuck could you be up to that requires your attention for two weeks—"

"keep your voice down!" you yelp, pushing him back. "he's—"

"jeon?" your fiancé identifies as he comes out from a door. jungkook catches a glimpse. it's your bedroom.

your fiancé walks towards you two, adjusting his tie. he smiles, greeting jungkook warmly.

"is everything okay? you've never visited our home before," he says as he snakes his arm around your waist. your lips curve into a gentle smile as he does this to you. "are you here for business matters? ran out of sugar? or a wedding invite? we just finalized them." he rambles rather excited.

none.

i'm here for your fucking wife.

jungkook shakes his head. "are you headed out?"

your fiancé nods. instantly, you break away from him and open the closet door nearby. taking a jacket out, you help put it on your fiancé. he thanks you as he puts his shoes on.

"last minute meeting. gotta head to the office since my study is filled with wedding prep stuff. ___ here wanted the space. of course i had to give it to her," he laughs. "i'd give her the world."

jungkook bites his tongue.

"y-yeah. i, uh, i just came by because the penthouse cleaning lady did my laundry and mixed our clothing—this belongs to you, right?"

you and your fiancé freeze as jungkook offers your panties.

"total mix up."

your fiancé lowers his gaze at jungkook. he sucks his teeth in and thinks for a moment. you grab your panties from jungkook's hand and hide behind your man. why would jungkook do this? he's swimming too far out. he's crossing too many lines.

you feel him grow suspicious as he states, "there's only three penthouses in his building... kinda weird that ms. kwon would get our loads mixed up..."

you clear your throat.

"love, you're going to be late." you reach over and give him a kiss on the cheek. "come home soon, okay?"

he shakes off the moment and nods. "godspeed. it was nice seeing you, jungkook... thanks for bringing back her... love, while he's here, you can give him the invitation! it'll be a waste to mail it. oh, hey! come to our rehearsal dinner too. it's next friday. go on, love. invite him to that too!"

"for sure," you comply. "jungkook, join us then too."

jungkook blinks at you. "i'll have my secretary clear my schedule... yah... you should get going. good luck with the meeting. if you need anything, let me know." jungkook adds, offering his hand to your fiancé to shake.

he tugs jungkook's hand and grins. "is this you saying you want to merge? i can draft a contract by tonight. join us for breakfast tomorrow and we can be one big happy family."

jungkook chuckles, declining his awful offer. "you wish."

your fiancé laughs heartily. "we can't be competitors forever," he says. "to be honest, i constantly feel like i'm losing against you."

you gulp at his words.

jungkook's eyes shift to you.

then, your fiancé glances at his watch and notices the time. he bids you two goodbye. pushing past jungkook, your fiancé hears him say something he never expect to hear.

"jin," jungkook breathes, "i feel the same."

with that, jin gives him a gentle look. as he turns around to leave for real, he reminds you to give jungkook the first invitation to the wedding. when jin is out of sight, jungkook turns to you. he doesn't say it, but he feels it.

he feels heartbroken.

jungkook takes a moment to look around your home. he's never seen it, really. it's beautiful. there's a lot of things that remind him of you and your taste. the colours, textures, and even placement of art... there's a lot of pictures. pictures of jin and his fishing trips, yours and his travels, and family.

so many pictures of family.

there's a burning feeling inside of him that he can't contain. it's either jealousy or guilt. he doesn't know. he doesn't really want to know.

"what the hell was that?" you cry, shoving jungkook.

jungkook doesn't move.

"not that i have to explain myself to you, but i've been busy with the wedding stuff. why can't you be patient? why can't you leave me alone—"

"goddamnit, don't you think i've tried, woman? do you think i like doing this? i've done everything i can. i even fucking bought you a new phone since yours must be broken—" he pulls out a new phone from his back pocket and tosses it across your kitchen island. you watch it slide, eyebrows knitting together.

"why? my phone isn't broken—"

"then fucking answer when i call. when i text. when i want you."

you glare at him.

"i'm not yours, jungkook."

he towers over you.

"so fucking what?"

a silence falls upon you two. it's almost upsetting. it's almost like if heartache had a sound—this would be it.

"why'd you come here?" you whisper. "you didn't need to bring my panties down. you didn't need to give me a new phone. you—"

"i miss you," jungkook confesses. "i miss you so much that nothing feels the same. my home doesn't feel like home anymore. i miss everything about you. i miss the way you'd come back to me... now, you don't even send me a text back?"

"jungkook—"

"do you miss me too?" he asks, sounding desperate. he takes your hand and pulls you close. "say you miss me, please... i'm losing my mind. i need to know you miss me too."

you take a breath in, feeling dizzy from the truth.

"say it, ___," jungkook begs, as he drops your hands and places his on your waist. pulling you even closer, he places soft kisses on your neck. "you miss me too, right? say you miss me."

you stay silent.

"y-you're going too far, jungkook... you can't come to me home and demand things like this. you can't speak to jin like that—"

"fine," he yields. "i'm sorry. i apologize. i'll send you a fruit basket to signify my regret. i'll behave at the rehearsal dinner. i promise to do all of that... if you j-just—"

"okay, okay," you cup his face and run your thumb across his lips. looking at him sweetly, you see his eyes tearing up. he was hurting. you know it.

"i missed you too," you cave. "i miss you, jungkook."

just like that, jungkook's whole world lights up again.

he kisses you deeply. so much so that when you pull up for air, you lose balance. he picks you up and takes you to your bedroom. the bedroom you share with jin.

there, he sets you down. he takes off his shirt, and then he unbuckles his belt. you watch as he strips and salivate over his body. he crawls on top, hands reaching for the nape of your neck. jungkook then brings you to his lips, kissing you once again. then, he begins.

he has you in all the way he wants to.

you give it to him.

he places himself in between your legs and brings heaven to you. jungkook does everything he's been missing to do with you. he eats you out until your legs shake. he fucks you until you can't take it. somewhere in between your moans and uttering his name, jungkook cums inside you.

he spills himself inside you. onto your sheets. yours and jin’s.

when he rolls off of you, you take a minute for yourself. as you gather your thoughts and he dresses himself, you can't help but feel shameless. your stomach twists and turns. it flips and flops like never before. there’s a sudden wave of indescribable emotions that take over. your mind floods with morale attempts to fix this.

then, it draws a blank.

"do you want me to help you change your sheets?" he asks, breaking the silence.

you shake your head.

"n-no... i just... i can't believe i just—"

"we just..."

"yeah... we just..." you feel yourself about to cry. "can you go? the invitations are in his study. third door to your left. keep your promise, okay? behave at the rehearsal dinner. bring a date. figure it out, jungkook."

"___—"

"i'm begging you... i don't know what else i can do. it's like i have no control when i'm with you. i always cave. i always go to you. i always... is it always going to be like this? am i always going to be this messy?" you choke on your own words. as you feel yourself sob, you let him know one more thing; "it feels like i've known you all my life. is that weird? like we've met before. we've loved before.... but here? in this life... it's like we can't even..."

"we can't what?"

"we can't even be friends."

jungkook takes a breath. he doesn't go to you when you start to cry. he lets you have this for yourself. rushing out, he doesn't bother to take an invitation for your precious wedding.

from the beginning, he had decided what to do with you.

he'd wait.

he'd wait for you to like him again.

he'd wait for your love.

link to paraluman ... again, iykyk :)

[dizscreams]

“HE’S MY LOVELY LIFE SAVER, DOESN’T MIND MY BAD BEHAVIOR!” PT. 2

— Ethan Landry ★

part one here!

PAIRING: Spider-Man!Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: you kissed Spider-Man and you knew it was Ethan and Ethan’s like omg no I’m supposed to be an anonymous super hero and then avoids you but you confront him like the bad bitch you are and he says why he avoided you and then you guys kiss and makeup and it’s cute

A/N: decided to give you an unnecessary part two THIS CAN BE READ BY ITSELF TOO!! U don’t need to have read pt. 1

TAGS: @evanpeterswifeyy868 @wenvierismycomfort @xyzstar @wekiamo @aesthetixhoe @c8rdigan @beary-rambles @teyamsgirll @h34rtsformilli @dizzyscreams @mbankfav @aqellano @itsems124 @withjust-a-bite @cham9ions

It had been a week since the kiss and you could tell Ethan was actively avoiding you. If he saw you walking down the hallway he would turn around and go the opposite way, if you were in the same class he’d sit somewhere else and rush out of class before you could come up to him, even during group hangouts he wouldn’t go if you were going!

You didn’t know why, I mean you assumed it was because of the kiss but you thought you both liked each other. In all honesty it made you sad, because you really liked Ethan. You tried talking to Chad about it and he said Ethan had seemed more anxious than usual. None of it made sense but you were determined to find an answer.

Ethan looked in the mirror, he had his suit on and his mask in hand. He was going on patrol tonight which usually helped him calm his nerves. It calmed his nerves with whatever was happening to Ethan Landry at least. Spider-Man had a carefree life, a life filled with fighting criminals and helping the citizens of New York City. Maybe Ethan did use Spider-Man as an escape but there was nothing wrong with that, right?

He started to put his mask on but only made it halfway on his face before a knock on the door startled him. “One second!” He yelled as he tore the mask off his face and rushed to get a jacket and sweatpants on. The knocking happened again slightly louder this time. “Yeah, I hear you! Just one minute!” He yelled again as he jumped into his pants and ran towards the door.

He swung it open quickly, “Chad, did you forget your key again?” But he froze when he saw you standing there. You were in your pajama pants and an oversized shirt that looked adorable on you but Ethan quickly shook those thoughts away. “May I come in?” You asked, your voice was quiet. The only time he heard your voice that quiet was the night of the kiss. One part of Ethan wanted to shake his head and close the door but the other part was telling him to let you in.

That part obviously won.

He nodded and stepped back so you could enter. You muttered a small thank you and walked inside. It was a small and cozy dorm. You could easily tell which side was Ethan’s and which side was Chads. The trophies and the iconic varsity football jacket was on Chads side while Ethan’s side was decorated with one movie poster and a few books on his shelf. Nothing much. “Nice dorm,” you said breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Thanks,” he mumbled while throwing some stray clothes into the laundry hamper. “So, what are you doing here?” He asked. He was slightly scared of the answer. “I think you know why,” you sat on his bed, “You’ve been avoiding me, Ethan.” He closed his eyes and sighed, he didn’t want to have this conversation with you. He didn’t even think he had a valid reason for why he was doing this. He faced you and shrugged. He just shrugged. You scoffed at him and shook your head.

“I really like you, you know?” Ethan looked away from you and you continued, “And I kinda thought you liked me too,” You said letting out a breathy laugh. He looked at you again and looked at the tears running down your face. “I’m sorry.” That was all he said. “You’re sorry?” You questioned. “You’re sorry? You’re not even going to give me an answer for why you’ve been acting so weird?”

He stayed silent and you shook your head as you got up. You didn’t know what to think or how to feel so leaving seemed easier. “Forget it, Ethan.” You were about to open the door to leave when you felt something on your back suddenly pulling you back towards him. “Wh-” you were cut off by Ethan lips on yours and he slightly smirked at your muffled noise. You pulled back first and looked at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“I don’t understand.”

“I used my web,” he giggled and you rolled your eyes trying not to smile, “No, I mean I don’t understand why you kissed me.”

He pressed his forehead to yours and spoke softly, “Because I like you, I really like you. I was just scared of losing you” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and he explained further. “I was scared if we were anything more than friends you’d get hurt. There’s a lot of super villains out there and there’s a lot of people who could hurt you to try and hurt me.”

He paused and interlocked your hand with his, “And I really really can’t loose you.” You raised your head up to look at him properly and felt tears sting your eyes again.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He chuckled, “I guess cause I’m an idiot.” There was a beat of silence before Ethan spoke again, “Please forgive me, y/n. I really didn’t want to hurt you, I like you so much and you have no idea what that kiss meant to me-” This time you cut him off with a kiss and you pressed your hands to either side of his face. You pulled away slightly, “You talk too much, Spider.”

You brought your lips back to his and he smirked. He wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You both stayed like that for a moment before breaking the kiss for air. The pair of you stood there in each others embrace with dumb smiles on your faces. It was nice.

“I really am sorry,” he said looking at you with his big puppy dogs eyes. “Forgive me?”

“You know I can’t stay mad at you.”

He grinned and leaned in to share another kiss with you before you put a finger to his lips stopping him, “But you are an idiot so you’ll get to kiss me again when you take me out on a proper date.” He rolled his eyes playfully and nodded, “Deal.” He stuck his hand out and you removed your finger from his lips and shook his hand, “Deal. Now Goodnight, Landry.” You kissed his cheek and headed out the door.

Once you left he sat on his bed dumbfounded.

He fucked up once but now that he was forgiven there was no way he’d ever let you go again.

TYSM FOR 1K THATS SO CRAZYYY AA ILY ALL

[backroomsaesthetic]

How a Bad Date Turned Me into a Serial MILF Hunter

I asked a while ago if I could turn this blog into a personal one. Y’all said it was cool, but I never did anything with it until now.

I met this girl named Jenny. I was in the dorm living room getting a haircut from my barber when Jenny walked in to check on her cookies. She was a cute, small Thai girl with black hair. We asked her what she was doing and after some banter, I asked her how much she was charging for the cookies. She laughed and offered one for free as a token of friendship. Maybe it was the warm cookie, maybe it was the banter but I had a good feeling about her.

I ran into her a couple of days later while walking back to my dorm and noticed she was on my floor. She was as surprised as I was when we discovered that we basically lived across from each other. She said we should hang out sometime, and I told her, "Sure," so she asked for my phone number. We exchanged numbers and then went our separate ways. A few days later, I saw her again. She apologized for being busy but mentioned she was up for hanging out later in the week. That's when I broke the bad news. After I met her I got offered a house and would be moving soon. She was flabbergasted and asked when I would leave. I sheepishly mentioned, “Well, in two days, I will be gone.” To my surprise, she asked for my ADDRESS and said she would come over. I was flattered, gave her the addy and told her I would be busy with moving but afterwards we should be cool. Also note that we weren’t texting in the meantime. We just had each other’s numbers and that was that.

I moved and kinda forgot about her until I went in for another haircut and randomly saw her doing laundry. She later mentioned that she felt terrible seeing me then because she was in her "I’m not seeing anyone" outfit and said she felt ugly. I thought she still looked great and I talked to her. We hadn’t seen each other for a couple of months, and I mentioned it was good to see her and a shame we never really got to hang out. She said she was still up for it since the summer break had started and she had more time. So we set up a date at my place. I would make dinner, and she would bring dessert. I also proposed picking her up in my car, which in hindsight is a crazy ask. Think about it, you're going to a guy’s house, someone you barely talked to. He’s going to pick you up, meaning you have no way of getting home if you want to, and you don’t know where you are to begin with. Crazy. But we were both oblivious so I picked her up in the car, went home and made some Korean food which she liked.

When it came to picking a movie, she mentioned that she loved Disney movies. I was down to watch whatever Disney movie because how bad can a Disney movie be until she mentioned she adored *The Descendants*… If you just went, "I don’t know what that is, and I saw all the Disney movies," I would say the same. The movie is from 2015, featuring some Disney XD actors in a musical. It’s at this point I gotta to mention that she’s 19 and I’m 24. Which doesn’t seem like much, but man… When your favorite movie is from 2015, I feel old AF.

After the movie and food, we just kinda talked about whatever. I also noticed that if I didn’t keep the conversation going, we’d just sit in silence. Like, she would respond to what I was saying and also add her own story, but if I waited for her to start talking, I would keep waiting. It wasn’t too bad since I’m a certified yapper and can just keep going but after some time it did start to bother me.

During dinner, I asked her what she would like to drink, and she saw the two soju bottles I had and picked those. But then she asked if it was okay for me to drink and drive her home… Mind you, I’m 220 lb and 6'3". A single bottle of soju isn’t going to do shit. I need like three back to back before it even starts to tickle my brain. I assured her I would bring her home safely, and we started playing a drinking game. Now, halfway through her bottle, she mentioned that if she took another sip she would probably puke. I don’t know if she was nervous or what, but indeed she had that classic Asian redness in her face and was clearly drunk. Again now she is in some dude's house, with no way of getting home, AND she is shitfaced drunk. On one hand I am happy she felt safe and comfortable enough to act this way around me. On the other hand, that isn’t a smart thing to do. She mentioned later that her phone was blowing up because her friend was keeping tabs on her. I’m glad she has good friends but still.

So we sat on the couch with me stone cold sober and her drunk until she said, “Okay, I want to go home now.” And I was like, “Alrighty then.” We walked to the car (like a 5 min walk), and she went ahead and said, “I am so drunk I probably won’t remember anything after this point.” I didn’t know what to say to that. I put her arm around mine, and she leaned up against me as we walked back. I brought her home safely and hugged her goodbye. At the time, I thought it was a great date. Some dinner, a movie that was kinda slop but the good kind slop, some drinks, and a story to tell. But the more I looked back, the more red flags popped up. I started wondering whether the age gap was too big.

Later I posted a vlog on insta which she complimented. I thanked her and asked if she was up to make a mini vlog together. And so the second date was set. Only not really. I proposed going to the arcade and eat something afterward. But two days before the date, she mentioned she wanted to go to the movies instead. Now, I love movies. I’m a certified Letterboxd user, okay? But man, do I hate movies as a date. You’re sitting in the dark for two hours watching something else. So instead of getting to know each other, you’re watching Timothée Chalamet attempt getting his first Oscar for the billionth time. It’s silly. I don’t like them at all. So I said to her, “Yeah, I would love to go to the movies; let's do it.” I know okay I know. She picked *It Ends with Us*, and not gonna lie, I was just admiring Blake Lively for the better part of two hours. I usually don’t look up movies before seeing them, but I checked the reviews of this movie, and... they were not high. But she picked the movie, and I figured at least she would have a fun time.

Until halfway through the movie, she goes, “This movie is boring.” *Insert internal screaming.* So I told her I agreed and that we could just dip and get some food. But then they started fist fighting in the movie, and she said, “Nah, it's good.” So I sat through the movie (wasn’t that bad tbh), but I wasn’t invested at all. I asked her how many times she had been to the movies. She then mentioned she hadn’t been since she moved from Thailand… WHICH BEGS THE QUESTION, WHY ARE WE IN THE MOVIES RIGHT NOW??? I thought she must love going to the movies or watching them, but now I am two mid movies in for no reason.

Afterwards we walked to the mall to get food, but when we got there, I asked, “So, what are you feeling?” and she goes, “Oh, I’m not hungry, I had some popcorn remember.” She was referring to the popcorn I bought, of which she ate maybe 10% before we threw it in the trash. So now we are seated in this mall with just me being hungry because we basically skipped dinner to watch the movie right after work. And she says she’s not hungry... so I got some Chinese sharing platter, but she only took one or two snacks, and the rest was for me. Sadly it was too much even for my big ass and we left.

She mentioned we could walk home in the cool summer evening. So we talked some more but since dinner the same thing happened as last time. I was talking and asking her questions, but she never really asked me anything in return besides the “and you?” pingpongs. So at some point, I thought, “Maybe I am just talking too much. Maybe she wants to just enjoy her evening, and here is this guy yapping with no end in sight.” So after some back and forth, I stopped talking and just enjoyed the night air and her company. This went on for like a minute or two until she asked, “Do you feel awkward walking in silence?” I told her I didn’t mind the silence and asked her what about her, and she goes, “Yeah, I feel awkward walking in silence.” *MORE INTERNAL SCREAMING.*

IF YOU DON’T LIKE THE SILENCE, THEN JUST GO AHEAD AND SAY SOMETHING??? It’s at this point I knew this wasn’t going anywhere. I even asked her if she wanted to talk about a certain subject or if she had any questions for me but she replied with a simple, “No, not really.” I mean, come on. So you don’t have anything to say but also don’t like walking in silence…how does that even work? So, I started talking about the reason why I won't ever do shots again, and she told me about her drunkest story ever. We got to her house. Finally. And we hugged goodbye. I’m not planning on ever seeing her again after this date because, sheesh.

So, I tried, guys. I really did. I tried dating girls within my age range, but I can’t do this. I’m going back to my MILF hunting habits, but that’s a story for another time.Was I in the wrong here? Did I do something I shouldn’t have done, or was it just her? I don’t know, do let me know.  

[livwritesstuff]

this is an edited repost of something I wrote last year for the 10-year anniversary of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School (now 11 years today). to say the least, it’s a difficult day for a lot of people, including me. i wrote this all in one go just as a positive outlet for the things this day evokes and i went back and forth on if i would post it, but i know i’m not the only one who has been affected by these events. if you’re someone who finds this day to be a hard one, this one is for you.

tw: references to gun violence and school shootings

It’s late morning in December 2012 and Steve is watching the news. He isn’t really paying attention to the current segment about opiate use, too busy being completely annihilated in Words with Friends by his eleven-year-old, who just played the word ‘jinxes’ for 23 points, the bastard.

He’s mid-way through sending Moe a text (“get off your ipod you’re in class”) when the channel’s Breaking News intro interrupts the interview that he’d been ignoring. He looks up to see that the headline has changed.

Steve sees shooting, and then elementary school and feels his heart jump into his throat the way it does any time he hears sirens when his daughters or his husband aren’t home – not because he really believes it’s for them, but because it could be. There’s always a chance it could be.

And he’s got two kids in elementary school right now.

He makes himself read the headline in full – it clarifies that the school is in Connecticut, nowhere near him and his house and his children’s schools in the Massachusetts suburbs, but it does little to remedy the panic that has his heart going a mile a minute.

Steve sits for a while, eyes glued to the TV as the anchor slowly ad-libs, clearly waiting for any new scrap of information.

On the first commercial break, Steve checks his phone. He’s got one text – from Moe telling him to play another word in their game. He responds back with the message he’d written before he’d become fixated on the news.

On the second one, he texts Eddie, tells him he loves him and asks if he’s heard what’s going on (he knows he probably won’t get a response for a while – Eddie is notoriously bad at checking his phone and that’s when he’s not in a meeting he’s been looking forward to for weeks, as is the case today).

By the third, they’ve learned the school is on lock-down, but not much more.

Everything he hears after that is nothing short of harrowing, and leaves Steve feeling sick to his stomach.

Eddie finally texts him a couple hours later, after the news anchor has been switched out for another, to say his meeting ran late (an actual director had reached out to him saying she was interested in adapting one of Ed’s books into a movie – today was the day they got to talk in person) and he hadn’t known any of this was going on, but he’s on his way to pick up Hazel from her AM kindergarten session.

Steve’s day continues. He makes lunch, he finishes some laundry, he responds to emails, always with one eye on the news. His shock at what was occurring mere hours south of his home, subsides, slowly replaced with a dull horror because he’s seen a lot of things in his forty-six years of life, but nothing like this. One by one, his three girls return home from school and he hugs each of them like he always does, but today it’s a little tighter.

It’s a Friday, and Friday night is movie night in the Harrington house. It’s Robbie’s night to choose (she picks Spy Kids, like she does every time she gets to pick the movie since it came out last year). Before they start, Steve and Eddie tell their kids what happened. They do their best to find an explanation that is sufficient for ever-precocious Moe, but not too much for Hazel, their sweet kindergartner who only just turned six. Once the movie starts, they all pile under the same blanket, and where there’s usually fidgeting and arguing and occasionally having to pause the movie altogether to wipe tears and wait on a time-out because someone weaponized a foot or an elbow after they weren’t given the big bowl of popcorn fast enough, tonight there is quiet and stillness.

The next day, the girls are back to their normal, bickering selves, but Steve still can’t shake the aching feeling in his chest every time he thinks about what happened the day before. He starts to get that itch in his brain, the same itch he'd felt after he ran out of the Byers’s house in 1983, after he turned back and saw those Christmas lights flickering, the itch where he’s gearing up for a fight.

As the months go on, Steve finds himself reading into gun control laws, finds himself with multiple non-profits fighting for them bookmarked on his computer, finds himself following politics for the first time in his life as he watches bill after bill get shut down by both sides of the debate.

Honestly, Steve isn’t sure why he cares so deeply about this – and not just what happened in Connecticut, but the issue of guns and gun safety in general. It’s not like he hasn’t fired a gun before. It’s not like he’s never seen their value (he still remembers that drive to the War Zone so many years ago). It’s not like he hasn’t ever felt safer with someone nearby wielding one, even if that someone was Nancy Wheeler.

Maybe he’s a little too familiar with children being the casualties in a war they didn’t choose to start, didn’t choose to fight in, and if that had made him angry at nineteen, he’s irate now, now that he has a six-year-old like the students in that classroom in Connecticut, now that he has an eleven-year-old like El when she escaped that lab in Hawkins.

It wouldn’t be the first time Steve threw himself into a battle that had nothing to do with him, that he knew very little about, because he knows what happens when children get caught in the crossfire of a battle that has nothing to do with them, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he sat idly by and watched it happen again.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

A series of firsts: Gallzatto kisses!

The first time you kissed Lip was after his first two weeks of tutoring you. You had gotten your test grade back and saw you bately had any mistakes. On your way to his room you spotted him outide of it in the hallway, he walked towards his door as well, his back facing you. The excitement took over and you ran towards him, hoping to catch him before he'd walk through the door. You had to show him your test results. He'd be so proud, you had to thank him somehow. You jumped him from behind with a happy squeal, almost having you both fall over but managing to keep your balance as Lip wormee around in your tight embrace to turn around. "What th--" his sentence got cut off by your lips messily pressed against his before pulling away, pepering his face in more small kisses, muttering thank you's in between, never letting go of him, and now leaning against the door to his room. His arm wrapped tight around your waist as he fumbles with the lock on his door with his other hand, unlocking the door and twirling you inside, shoving the door closed and kissing you back again. "I knee you could do it." He kissed you again. "So proud of you, girlie" and again. And again, until you were both laid on his bed, facing the ceiling and Lip spoke. "So, would you tutor me in this class I sick at, too?"

~~☆☆☆~~

Your first kiss with Carmy was only after you had gone on a couple of dates. You two met at Al Family, volunteering for a couple of weeks to help your friend while they looked for new staff. Said friend had had you two set up when she noticed you couldn't keep your eyes off him and he would only go get a drink when you were serving them. Your movie date went well until you stepped into the soaking rain outside, sprinting to Carmy's car and hopping in. It was still early so you decided to go to his place to sit out the storm together. In the privacy of his own home he felt a lot more comfortable, bringing out some drinks and snacks to hang on the couch, watching another movie but this time without the large amount of other people around. Halfway into your private screening of the shitty romcom that happened to be on you were snuggled into his side, his arm over your shoulder holding you close. You moved around to pull your socked feet over his lap, your knees against his chest. You nuzzled into his neck, getting tired. His hands rubbed at your shoulder and thigh, holding onto you like you were his world. Your lips brushed his neck, up to his jawline where you placed a soft peck. The action had him move to look down, his lips brushing yours in doing so. You take the chance to press up and kiss him properly. The kiss deepened as he pulled you on top of him and laid down on his back, moving you around until you were laying down with no chance of falling off the couch and only breaking the barrage of kisses to take a breath or for you to speak. "Can I.. Can I stay the night?"

~~☆☆☆~~

The kitchen was the place to be right now. With you asleep in bed and the twins asleep in the nursery, the couch being taken over by clean laundry and the dinner table covered in baby stuff there was literally nowhere else to be for a quick break. Carmen watched and instructed as Lip made them a simple meal, plating an extra portion for you to enjoy later. After food and cleaning up they shared a cigarette, a habit they took up after they learned you were pregnant. They'd cut down on smoke breaks and instead of smoking one each, they'd share one. During these first weeks with you off the team outside of feeding time, the two fathers had grown much closer to each other, doing everyrhing togerher, planning their days to make sure all the important things were done by the evening and take care of their girls. After a bit they started finding comfort in each other as well. Ofcourse they loved to cuddle up with you in bed or on the couch, but you were always the main factor there. Unlike now, with the both of them hanging out the kitchen window, shoulder to shoulder. Not because the lack of space, but because of the topic of conversation. "You're doing great, Lip. Momma thinks so too." Carmy had nudged him with his shoulder and stayed, looking at him as he handed over the cigarette. "Thanks, Bear. You too." He threw his arm around Carmy's shoulder and kissed hia hair. "Love all of this. Mama, the girls. You." Carmen raised his brows at his boyfriend's confession. "I'm sorry, do I jave to call Ian and tell him I turned his brother gay?" He softly headbutted the other, keeping his forehead against his as they shared the last drags. Breathing in each other's smokey breath and pressing their lips together. "I love you, Bear. You know that, right?" They shared another kiss. "Love you too, Lip."

[starkstruck27]

My next fill for @metalsandwichbingo !! This one is kind of a part 2 to the last one (A2), and there might even be a part 3 coming in the future, who knows! Anyway, this one is not as extreme as the last one, but still mind the tags, and title comes from the song Trouble by Five Finger Death Punch. Title: I Don't Look for Trouble, Trouble Looks for Me Square + Prompt: C1, Collared Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3428 Words Major Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence Additional Tags: Wet & Messy, Face-Fucking, Collars, Leashes, Puppy Play, Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Belts, Spanking, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington Being an Asshole, Verbal Humiliation, Humiliation Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Consensual but not Safe or Sane, Hair-Pulling Summary: It's been over a week since the incident at the quarry, and Eddie is just waiting for when Billy and Steve are going to pounce on him again. The only thing that gets his mind off of it is that it's Tuesday, Hellfire Club day, and he's excited to get their new campaign up and running. But as he's cleaning up the room before he goes home for the night, he hears the door open, and guess who shows up for round two. Also on: Ao3

It had been over a week since the incident at the quarry, and Eddie had gone back to being a target at school, but it seemed like since last Thursday, Billy and Steve were going a little bit easier on him. Granted, that may have been wishful thinking more than anything else, but Eddie didn’t mind it as much when they picked on him anymore, so he’d take what he could get. It also could’ve been the thought of what Steve had said to him last week, too, about them being able to do it again sometime if he was good. It wasn’t enough to make him look forward to getting jumped by them at any given moment, but it was enough that, when they did jump him, he was able to think, ‘is now the time?’. So far it hadn’t been, but he didn’t mind waiting for it.

After last time, he’d walked home and showered once he got there, putting his filthy clothes in a garbage bag and tossing it in with the rest of his laundry to be dealt with when he scrounged up enough quarters for the laundromat. He sucked on a couple of cough drops to help soothe his throat, and then he went to bed, still thinking about everything that’d happened. He hadn’t gotten his journal back, but he wasn’t even upset about it anymore. As crazy as it sounded, he trusted the other two, and knew they wouldn’t show it to anyone unless he did something to piss them off. And as the week went on, he found he was right. They had every opportunity to betray him, but they kept up their end of the bargain, just as Eddie did. 

And now, it was the beginning of the second week since the incident, and just like every other Tuesday, Eddie was getting ready for a meeting with the Hellfire Club. They’d just recruited a new member, a sophomore named Gareth, and he seemed pretty cool so far. He’d come up with a really interesting character for someone who’s never actually played D&D before, and Eddie was so ready to kick their campaign off right and get him into it even more. By last period, he was practically bouncing out of his seat, and when the bell finally rang, he ran to the drama room as fast as he could to set up before his players got there.

Turns out, Gareth was a pretty decent player too, and a quick learner. He was fitting right in with the rest of the guys, and by the time they wrapped up for the day, it felt like he’d been with them forever. Eddie was glad that everyone was getting along so well, and he was looking forward to inviting them over to his place during Thanksgiving break to play an extra long session. Until then, he let them go home, and he stayed behind to clean up.

When he heard the door open a few minutes after everyone left, at first he thought someone had left something behind. Nobody said anything to him, though, which was unusual, everyone in the club was a bit of a talker, so he turned around to see who it was, and came face to face with Billy and Steve.

“Miss us?” Billy asked, that salacious smile making Eddie’s stomach twist. It twisted further as Steve shut and locked the door to the room, so no one would be going in or out.

“That’s a rhetorical question, right?” He asked, starting to back up slowly as the other two crowded him. After a few steps, though, he hit the wall, and there was no way out of it now.

"Of course it is, fuckwad, now nix the attitude. You really don’t wanna piss me off today, understand?” Billy asked. He had a bruise peeking out of the collar of his shirt, and everyone knew that if Billy Hargrove got in a fight and you did something to make him mad, you’d get it ten times worse. Eddie didn’t feel like being beaten to a bloody pulp today, so he just shut his mouth and nodded.

“That’s a good freak,” Billy grinned, a wild spark in his eyes as he then commanded, “Now strip.”

“What, right here? But what if someone-” Eddie tried, but Billy wasn’t having it. He grabbed Eddie by his shirt and slammed him hard against the wall, staring him down with a mean snarl.

“Did I not just tell you not to fucking piss me off?” He growled, and Eddie could feel his hot breath on his cheek. “When I tell you to do something, you do it, no goddamn questions. Don’t forget, we own your ass, so you better fucking listen, understand?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Eddie swallowed, and Billy held him there a second longer before he stepped back again and repeated the order. Eddie obeyed this time, taking off his clothes as quickly as he could, and tossing them in a pile next to his backpack.

“That’s better,” Steve said, “Now, get down on your hands and knees.”

Eddie listened, shivering as he got down on the cold linoleum, and waited. He looked up at Steve and saw him leaning down with something in his hand, and it wasn’t until it was fastened a little too tightly around his neck that Eddie realized it was a leather collar. 

“Good dog,” Steve smiled at him as he stood back up. “Now, do me a favor and go fetch me your belt.”

Eddie almost didn’t want to comply, this was getting really demeaning really fast, but then again, it was intoxicating. Being at the mercy of someone else and not getting a say in it was oddly freeing, and he couldn’t deny that it was making him incredibly horny. And hey, he could handle being treated like a dog as long as he was getting something out of it. So he did as he was told, went over to his pile of clothes and got his belt, but before he could start to crawl back with it, Steve gave him a look and shook his head.

“The last time I checked, dogs don’t have opposable thumbs,” he said. Eddie was confused for a second, but then he got it, and he sighed as he dropped the belt so he could pick it back up again, this time with his teeth. He crawled over to Steve and dropped it at his feet, which earned him a couple of hard pats on his head and another condescending “good dog”. Steve picked it up and held onto it for now, not quite ready to use it yet, but he was ready to use something else, a leash that he attached to the ring on the collar Eddie was wearing. He held it taught, making the already tight collar feel even tighter, and Eddie took that as his cue to start crawling forward.

Steve led him over to the center of the room, where the throne he usually sat on for Hellfire Club was now occupied by Billy. He had his jeans open and his cock out, and he truly did look like the king everyone claimed he was as he stroked his hard length and waited. As Eddie finally sat in front of him, Steve handed Billy the leash, and that same dangerous spark was still playing in his eyes as he stared Eddie down.

“You sure look like a little bitch, don’t you?” He taunted, grabbing Eddie by the hair and still keeping the leash tight as he pulled him closer. “Let’s see what that tongue of yours can do, hm?”

Eddie nodded, but didn’t dare to speak. Instead, he kept his mouth occupied by obeying the command, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue. He didn’t want to get in trouble for using his hands, so he did his best with his mouth, starting at the base of Billy’s shaft and licking up towards the head. He lapped at the sides of it and flicked his tongue all over the sensitive head, and when he felt the veins on the underside becoming more prominent, he took his time tracing each one. Billy seemed to be enjoying it, if the way his eyes were rolling were anything to go by, but he must’ve been getting impatient, because when Eddie stopped for a second to clear his throat, Billy wasn’t having it. He gathered up his hair in his fist and pulled his head forward, forcing him down on his dick until he choked.

“You don’t get to stop until I say so,” he said, and Eddie nodded as best he could with his cock still in his mouth. He continued to suck his dick, drooling everywhere, and Billy continued to talk. “You’re a fucking slut and you’re going to do as you’re told. I don’t care how much it hurts,” he said, and it was accentuated with a loud snap. 

Eddie whined loudly around the cock in his mouth, tears springing to his eyes as the pain registered. That must’ve been what Steve wanted his belt for, to hit him and leave a reminder behind of who owned him. Eddie knew there would be a red mark there for hours after, and he still felt the sting as the belt came down again, leaving another mark.

“One way or another,” Billy continued, every few words triggering another blow, “You’re gonna get it through your head that you’re ours, and when we’re alone, you don’t get a say. We can use you, we can hurt you, we can fuck you, we can do whatever we want to you, and you’re gonna take it. If you wanna be a good dog, you gotta learn some discipline, and nobody is gonna teach you better than us. And when you’re done with your training, you’ll be the most perfect fucking bitch in the whole world.”

Eddie was fully crying now, each slap coming down harder than the last and making him whimper as his tears mixed with the saliva flowing from his mouth. He was starting to get into that foggy headspace again and he knew he was hard as a rock and probably leaking all over the floor. He wanted to come so bad, but he knew from last time that he would have to wait. He tried to distract himself with the stinging pain of his abused ass, but it only made it worse, so he resolved to just clearing his mind altogether and focusing on nothing but pleasuring the cock in his mouth.

Even that didn’t work, though, because a few seconds later, he felt hands spreading him open, and another cock beginning to bully its way into him. Eddie whined and clamped up at the unexpected intrusion, and cried out again as another slap, this time from a hand, landed hard on his backside.

“Fucking relax,” Steve commanded, and Eddie knew he had to comply. He took in as deep of breaths as he could and made himself loosen up, and he sighed in both contentment and slight discomfort as Steve muscled his way in. He didn’t waste any time then starting to fuck Eddie, thrusting into him as hard as he pleased and not caring about anything but his own pleasure. 

Eddie felt like he was high. Neither of them probably cared if this felt good for him, but either way, it did. It was like a wet dream almost, because it felt so good and at the same time, felt almost unreal, like he was imagining it all. He knew he wasn’t though, and he was never happier to be awake than he was right now. The heavy weight of Billy’s cock on his tongue, filling up his mouth and his throat like it was made to be there, mixed with the rough feeling of being drilled so harshly by Steve, mixed with the pain and pressure of the belt, the collar, his hair, it was like fucking flying. Eddie had never been in a position like this before, and if he were being honest, he never wanted to leave it ever again. He’d gladly stay just like this until the day he died.

But just as that thought had the chance to form in his head, something of course had to change. Billy’s cock was buried deep in his throat, and just as Eddie started to choke on it, he came, hard. Eddie did start to choke a little then, but Billy just continued to fuck his mouth, filling him with every last drop of spunk he could get out. Eddie somehow managed to gain control of himself and swallow it before he could really choke on it, and once he finally got it down, Billy let him up so he could clear his airways. Eddie coughed a few times to make sure his throat was no longer clogged up, and as he did, his body involuntarily tensed.

“Fuck yeah, you’re a tight little bitch, aren’t you?” Steve groaned as he continued to fuck into him at the same brutal pace, and after another few minutes, he started to come, too. Eddie had never felt anything like it. He felt so full, so hot, and it made him feel drunk. Steve’s sperm inside him felt like a brand, marking him as his property, and he almost wished it would stay there forever. But then Steve pulled out of him, and a little dribble of his come started dripping down from his hole to his perineum to his balls, and though the feeling was foreign to him, he was no longer upset that he couldn’t keep it all inside.

“You liked being all filled up, didn’t you?” Billy asked as Eddie sighed at the feeling, and when he looked up and nodded, Billy continued. “I knew you would, you dirty little slut. You’re a little come whore, would let anybody fuck you, as long as they made sure to empty their balls into you, isn’t that right?”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie mumbled, hoping that this was going where he thought it was. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, hoping they’d understand without him having to speak. They both smirked and he took that as a good sign, especially when Billy handed the leash off to Steve again and they switched spots, Steve sitting on the throne and Billy standing off behind them somewhere.

“Good bitch,” Steve smiled when Eddie turned to face him, tongue still out. “Now clean up your mess,” he said, pulling on the leash until Eddie started to suck his cock, his eyes rolling a little at the taste. He groaned around it as Billy grabbed his hips and shoved just the tip inside him for now, teasing him by holding him open and pulling completely out before going back in with only the tip. It felt good, but Eddie was getting impatient as Billy continued to play with him, and he started to whine as he waited for more.

‘God, such a needy little slut,” Billy said, voice full of condescension. “Want me to fuck your little pussy ‘til you’re fucking sobbing? Want me to blow my load so deep in you you can fucking taste it?”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie mumbled again, still slobbering all over Steve. His own dick was practically weeping at this point, but he did his best to ignore it so he could focus on the other two.

“You’re so fucking pathetic, getting this fucked up on a couple of cocks. I guess it makes sense, yours is too small to be able to fuck anyone good, so you decided to start taking it up the ass to get laid at all. You’re a fucking desperate whore, but lucky for you, I’m a big fan of sloppy seconds,” Billy taunted, then yanked Eddie backwards harshly, making him sit up in his lap before shoving his dick fully inside as Eddie moaned. “Now, fuck yourself on my cock, bitch, and don’t stop until you’re filled up on both ends.”

Eddie whimpered, but listened to the command. He started to bounce on Billy’s dick, doing his best to keep his balance, and continued to eat Steve up as soon as he was standing close enough to do so. He did the absolute best he could, but he was getting really clumsy, his head swimming from trying to do everything at once. Still, he knew they were going to make him work for this, so he kept going, riding Billy with as much of a rhythm as he could manage and swallowing Steve into his throat with fervor. They must’ve been satisfied with it, because they were both grunting and groaning with every movement, and Eddie was proud of himself for making them feel so good. 

Finally, after another few minutes, Eddie got his reward for being such a good boy. Steve came first this time, and Eddie sucked him dry, getting every little bit gathered on his tongue and opening his mouth to show it off before swallowing, the taste lingering on his tongue. Steve slapped him across the face after he swallowed, calling him a tramp, but it only made Eddie smile in his cock-drunk haze. He continued to smile and moan like a bitch in heat as he rode Billy’s dick, and he giggled a little as Billy finally busted, leaving more jizz inside him. It felt just as good as the first time, and he could almost feel Billy’s come and Steve’s mixing together inside him. It was better than any high he’d ever experienced, and he never wanted it to be over. 

Billy finally pushed Eddie off of him after a while, and Eddie just fell forward, his knees too weak to hold him up anymore. He was still grinning like an idiot, and his head was still a little fuzzy as he found the strength to roll over onto his back.

“Can I come now?” He asked as he watched the other two cleaning themselves up with some tissues they’d found and tucking their dicks back in their pants.

“Whatever,” Steve said, seeming rather indifferent to the idea. Billy didn’t even bother to answer, he just leaned against a table and waited. 

Eddie didn’t care, though, he had their permission, and that was all that mattered. He grabbed his own dick and started stroking, not even bothering to spin in his palm to help ease the way. It didn’t matter anyway, he was so close he could’ve been fucking up into a cheese grater and he still would’ve came. A dry hand was better than that at least. And besides, it only took a few harsh tugs, and he was coming all over himself and the floor. 

“There, you got what you wanted, now clean up your mess, bitch. I want this place spotless so nobody ever suspects something went down here, understand me?” Billy said, his voice firm.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie mumbled, hoisting himself up and going for the paper towels on the table.

“Not with those,” Billy said, stopping Eddie in his tracks. 

“Then, what do you want me to use?” He asked, swallowing hard to prevent the sound of annoyance when Billy pointed to his pile of clothes. He knew they were just making him use them to embarrass him again, but he gave in, not wanting to argue. He grabbed his shirt and started to wipe up the floor, and as he did, Steve came over and took the collar off of him, shoving it in his backpack. When the floor was clean, they gave him permission to get dressed, and just before they headed for the door, Billy added, “I think you’re starting to learn, Freak. But next time, we shouldn’t have to remind you how to act, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie said, gathering his clothes. But before he could get anything on, they left, leaving the door wide open.

He dressed as quickly as he could then, though in his rush he put his shirt on backwards and his shoes on the wrong feet, but he didn’t care. He finished gathering his things and left for his van, ready to head home for the night. His ass was still sore from both the belt and from being pounded so hard, but it was a good kind of pain, and one that was a reminder of what was to come if he remembered to be a good boy.

[missellaneousworks]

Excerpt from "Sundae Jack" - Fluff n' Smut SDJ Fic

Something is Wrong With Sunny Day Jack is a +18 ONLY community. Therefore, the content of this fic is NOT APPROPRIATE for anyone under 18+ and should not be engaging with it.

Very self-indulgent Ella (OC) x Sunny Day Jack fic. The full version can be found on AO3 HERE.

Below is just a taste before things get spicy~

Something is Wrong With Sunny Day Jack is a +18 ONLY series. MINORS DNI.

~

Oh yeah.  It had been that kind of a week for Ella.

The tub of ice cream landed on the counter with an unceremonious clunk, followed by the rest of the ice cream fixings.  Strawberries, bananas, chocolate fudge syrup, and whipped cream.  After a whole week of work, paying bills, having her hot water shut off for two days due to a water main breaking…. She needed to treat herself.  So after a horrible week, Ella went to the store with a little extra cash she had left over and got herself the full sundae spread!

Jack’s head poked out of the bedroom as he was finishing up folding laundry.  “Welcome back, Sunshine!  Whatcha got there?”

“My salvation,” Ella remarked with satisfaction. “I decided to take some of your advice about treating myself after a rough week.”

In the not-too-far past, Ella would usually turn to a nice bottle of wine and a bubble bath to relax and unwind. But while walking down the frozen dessert section in the grocery store earlier, she found a brand of ice cream she hadn’t seen in years. Normally, she would sadly pass by before she could change her mind, but today of all days she figured why not?  Besides, Jack would probably appreciate a little sweet treat, too!

“Anything I can do to help?” Jack’s ever-cheerful voice inquired helpfully. 

“Actually, yeah! Can you slice up the strawberries and a banana?”

After retrieving the cutting board and knife, Jack began to cut the fruit into thin, even pieces, humming a melody that Ella didn’t quite recognize, but was sure she heard it before.  “You know, most people get cherries with their sundaes.  I like the fact that you bought strawberries, though!”

“Eh heh, yeah… cherries remind me too much like cough syrup.  I know they’re already cherry flavored, but still… I like strawberries more.”

“Blueberries are also great!”

“No kidding, Mr. Blue-Haired-Clown-Sir.”  Ella teased back.

“Pfft, okay, okay, that one was obvious.”

“A little,” Ella giggled.  As she removed the ice cream tub’s lid and began to scoop the into the bowl.  “You know, I’m also a fan of peaches and nectarines.”                                                        

“Those sound tasty!  Maybe we can buy some next time.  Can never have to much fruit for your diet.”

“Not unless they go bad because I don’t eat them in time.”

“That's what you have me, here for, Sunshine,” Jack said triumphantly as he finished cutting the fruit, quickly washing the knife and setting it into the sink drainer.   

“…to eat the fruits I don’t like?” Ella innocently blinked up a Jack, leaning into his side slightly.

Jack chuckled and shook his head.  “No, silly.  To make sure you stay happy and healthy!  So we can keep having ice cream dates together~”

“Hmmm!  A fine point, Mr. Sunny Day.”

“You know what they say, an apple a day keeps the doctor away!  So it’s important to keep you in pear-fect health!”

The silence was incredibly loud as Ella slowly, deliberately turned towards Jack.  “…honey.  May I remind I am armed?  With an ice cream scooper?!”

Jack didn’t even attempt to hold back his laughter.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t help it.  I just think you’re one in a melon.”

“I know where you sleep.”

“I should hope so,” now the clown was turning the tables again on Ella, his voice lowering an octave as he came up behind Ella and wrapped his arms around her waist.  “It’s right next to you, after all.”

A pleasurable shiver ran up Ella’s spine as she felt Jack’s breath across the back of her neck and shoulder.  Subconsciously leaning back onto Jack’s body, Ella almost forgot about the ice cream sundae, at least until she accidently knocked over the open jar of chocolate syrup and got all over the counter. 

“Ah, shit!”

“Whoops!”  Jack blinked at the mess, a slightly disappointed grimace across his face.  However, it didn’t stop him from getting a moist paper towel and dabbing the mess.  “I got it, Sunshine, don’t worry!”

“Guess your flirt was too hot for this hot fudge to handle.”

That earned her another chuckle from her lover.  “Want to cool down with this sundae?”

“I thought you’d never ask~”

Within moments, Ella and Jack were nestled on her couch with a blanket, and a sizable bowel of the sundae, with two spoons so they could share. 

“Um, is this okay?  That we’re eating out of the same bowl?  I thought about getting one for each of us, but I kind of thought it would be cute to share…”

“I don’t mind, this is perfect, Ella.” Jack reassured with that ever-comforting smile of his.

“I thought it was pear-fect.”

“Ooooh!  My own pun thrown back in my face.”

“You’re very handsome face,” Ella shimmied closer to Jack’s side and wasn’t blind to the slight blush on Jack’s face.  It was nice to know even he could get bashful at times.  Adorable.  “Anyways, let’s dig in—”

The abrupt pause in his Sunshine’s delight caused Jack to raise his eyebrow in confusion.  “What’s wrong?”

“…I feel like… we’re missing something.”  Ella thoughtfully tapped the spoon against her lower lip before her head snapped up.  “The whipped cream!  Oh my god, hang on.”

Her sudden departure to retrieve the forgotten condiment was amusing to Jack.  Ella’s strive to get something just right might have been considered a setback to others, but not Sunny Day Jack.  He took a lot of time and dedication to improve Ella’s quality of life, and even more important, her happiness. 

Which was one thing they had in common.  His sunshine worked so hard to make people around her happy, it just showed how kind, creative, and amazing she truly was.  Sadly, there were times when Ella overdid it—with the best of intentions, but it was a small secret Jack kept to himself; he felt that most other people didn’t deserve the time of day with Ella.  She worked so hard at work, maintaining her home, and her writing, and finding new inspiration to keep her going.  As the matter of fact was that Ella persisted despite all of the trouble and heartache she’d been through in the past.  And that fact alone made her… special. 

It felt good being in her light.  Incredibly, warm, light, and loving light.  It was only right that her attention shouldn’t be wasted on others who would otherwise dim that precious light.

He’d make sure it would stay that way.  Forever, if he had to. 

“Got it!” Ella triumphantly scampered back to the living room with the whipped cream.  She plopped right next to Jack again, shaking the can before placing a sizable dollop on top of the sundae.  “Now, it’s perfect!”

Jack couldn’t help the mischievous smile.  “You mean pear—”

“Don’t,” Ella pointed the can directly at Jack’s face in an attempt to look intimidating.  Though the scrunch of her noise proved to be cuter than anything.  “I am armed and dangerous.  Don’t you dare, Jack.” 

Jack bit his lip in an attempt to stifle the chuckle building in his chest, but he couldn’t resist teasing her… just a little.  He jokingly lifted both of his hands up in mock defeat.  “Oh-ho!  What do you intend to do now that I’m at your mercy, Sunshine?”

The glimmer in Ella’s eye was unmistakable.  Her finger pressed on the tip of the can’s spout, intending to spray just a little on his nose, to make good on her threat, and to be a little coy.

However.

After a moment, nothing came out, and Ella added a little more pressure.

Jack stiffened as a flurry of whipped cream erupted all over his face, covering his left eye, cheek, part of his lip, but most of it did land on his red nose.  Jack squeezed his eyes shut when he was met with a barrage of sweetness, not fully registering what exactly happened at first.   After one mortifying moment, Jack’s right eye blinked open.  Ella’s face blanched from utter embarrassment.

“Pffffft!” Jack’s shoulders began to shake.  Then a giggle slipped, followed by a snort. 

Ella could only blink back as the silliness of her nerves and the situation itself sunk in.  Jack hunched over in an attempt to turn and hide his face, but Ella could clearly see his eyes squeezed shut, and the corners of his mouth failing to suppress a smile. 

“Oh my God,” Ella released the beginning of her own breathless laugh before she finally quipped, “Sorry honey,” she genitively wiped the cream from his eye.   “Guess I was the one who blew their load prematurely, huh?”

Jack guffawed and doubled over with a shocked laugh.  “ELLA!”

It broke the damn that held back Ella’s jovial laughter as she hunched over while cupping Jack’s face.  “Hey, first time for everything, am I right?”

“You’re t-too much for me, sunspot!” Jack managed to eke out through his laughter. 

Ella giggled back, “Too bad! You’re stuck with me, innuendoes and all.”

“I’d hardly call that a bad thing, you know.”  Jack’s laughter began to subside into breathless chuckles.  Most of the cream had slid down his face and landed on his chest and lap. 

“O-oh,” Ella tried to remain focus, but Jack was so close to her.  “Let me help, honey.”  Quickly, she grabbed a napkin that was sitting on the coffee table blotted parts of his face to remove the sweet confectionary cream from his face.  Jack was perfectly still and let her work, seemingly content to let Ella touch him, even if it was just for the sake of cleanliness.  She could feel his warm breath against her skin.  He wasn’t even doing anything other than just sitting there, messed up by her own hand.  Yet something about it made it feel… oddly intimate.  Especially the way Ella was studying the sharp features of his face.

“I think that’s all of it—oh, wait,” Ella cupped the side of Jack’s cheek and guided it to the side.  “You’ve got something on your face…”

“Ella--?” Jack was cut off at the feel of Ella’s soft lips against his cheek.

The dusting of pink across her face as she pulled back was impossible to ignore, as was a small, coy smile.  “Never mind, it was just me.”

Jack’s smile widened, positively smitten.  “Have I told you recently that I love it when you get spontaneous?” 

The compliment hit its mark perfectly as Ella’s blush deepened before an idea began to form in her mind.

Spontaneous, huh…?

~

Read more at the link on top. Thank you for reading~!

[kny-agere]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a fic with caregiver Tengen + wives and regressor Tanjiro? Maybe something along the lines of Tanjiro feeling bad about regressing, feeling that he’s taking up to much of their limited free time by being looked after/should be looking after his friends instead and Tengen comforts and assures him that he’s alright.

This took me forever sorry >_< It was easy to write but I needed a bit of a break because of how many requests I just went through. I think Tanjiro is a bit of an older regressor… maybe like 6-8? Idk how well it shows here but I hope you enjoy still!!

★彡☆彡★彡

“Will you tell Tanjiro that it’s time for dinner?” Hinatsuru leaned over the doorframe, steaming bowls of rice in her arms.

Suma peeks out from Tengen’s hold. “I thought he went to help you! He ran off a while ago.”

The older woman pulls a face but her tone remains even. “I’ll check with Makio but you need to make sure he tells you next time.”

“Don’t be cross,” Tengen laughs, “He’s a good boy. If Tanjiro isn’t with Makio then he’s probably off doing laundry or weeding the garden.”

Hinatsuru still doesn’t look very pleased but she leaves the others alone for now. The rice in her hands goes right back into the kitchen just in case this takes longer than a few minutes.

Her wife sits in the bedroom going through a mountain of clothed and deciding what to discard. It’s a daunting task considering Tengen buys a new outfit at least once a week.

“Is Tanjiro with you?” She can’t spot him right away but it’s possible the boy is hiding within one of the larger piles.

“Doesn’t Suma have him?” Makio sounds mildly alarmed, the boy rarely explores on his own when regressed.

Hinatsuru lets out a small groan. “I’ll check the bathrooms.”

“Do you want help?”

“I won’t turn it down, but it’ll only take a minute to find him. The house isn’t that big and I don’t think he would wander too far.”

—-

It takes thirty minutes for someone to find Tanjiro. Suma burst into tears when it took more than two seconds to find him and wasn’t much help from then on. Makio spent half her time scolding her wife and half her time comforting the woman which meant she wasn’t much help either.

Ultimately it was Tengen who found the boy. Kamado was curled up in one of the extra closets. He wasn’t quite crying but had a very focused look on his face accompanied by the occasional sniffle.

Tengen wasn’t as good at dealing with emotions as his wives were but the man didn’t want to startle the boy by calling for them.

“Hey… buddy.” He internally winced at his awkward tone. “It’s time for dinner. Why don’t you come out and eat with us.”

Tanjiro whimpered and pushed himself further into the tight space of the closet. Luckily it wasn’t very deep and he stayed within Uzui’s reach. “Or if you’re not hungry we can find a game to play! Whatever you want.”

“I wanna stay here.” The boy’s voice was thick with sadness. It was a sudden shift when just an hour ago he had been curled up against Suma’s side.

“Can I stay here with you then?” There wasn’t enough room within the actual closet for Tengen to fit but he was happy to crouch down and settle near the redhead.

He seemed surprised by the suggestion but eventually Tanjiro nodded. Uzui had no plan for what to do now but this seemed like a good start.

Before the silence could stretch on for too long the women finally caught up to the pair. All three of them crowded around the boy too alongside Uzui. No one was quite sure what to say but finally Suma stopped her tears and broke the silence. “Why did you stop hanging out with us? If you need to talk about something I can listen! I’m great at listening!”

“It’s okay.” His words were barely audible. “ ‘m not hungry right now.”

Emboldened by Suma, Hinatsuru opens her mouth too, “Are you sad?”

Tanjiro is quiet for a very long time which is the same as a yes. They all know he can’t even attempt to lie even if he can’t quite admit the truth.

Finally Tengen just picks up the boy and drags him into his arms. He doesn’t resist the movement at all but also doesn’t lean into the touch like he usually does. “C’mon you tell us what’s wrong.”

It seems like he won’t open up at all but then his bottom lip quivers and he lets out another quiet whimper. “I’m worried about Nezuko.”

“I’m sure Kocho is taking good care of her! Mitsuri was there too right? They’re probably having a lovely girls’ day.” Makio reaches over to rub his back. When he still doesn’t seem reassured her frown comes back. “Now tell us what’s really wrong.”

“Makio!” Suma tries to smack her but she’s easy blocked.

When Tanjiro wilts at their harsh exchange both women quickly straighten up. Another beat of silence passes before he opens up again. “I guess ‘m not used to being takin’ care of. So I’m worried ‘m doin’ a bad job… and that maybe you wanna take care of someone else.” His voice stays even but Kamado’s eyes grown shiny until a few tears spill over and onto his cheeks. The sight is enough to make Suma tear up too. She might even be crying more than the boy.

“This isn’t the kind of thing you can do a bad job at baby.” Hinatsuru forces Makio to switch spots with her so the woman can lean close to Tanjiro’s face and press a gentle kiss on his cheek. Her lipstick leaves a distinct red mark. “And we’re always happy to have you over no matter how you’re feeling.”

Tengen is happy that he’s able to focus on cradling the boy. The weight of Kamado in his hands is pleasant. He hoped that the fact that he both found and was currently holding the redhead would absolve him of needing to offer some sort of verbal support but the way all of his wives stare at him makes him think otherwise. “Um, why don’t we get some food? You’ll feel better on a full stomach.”

Admittedly Uzui might be speaking for his own hunger but the clumsy words worm a dry laugh out a Tanjiro. It saves him from being scolded by any of his wives and gives him the chance to finally stand up. Tengen’s legs are half numb but he keeps the boy wrapped in his arms while stumbling towards the kitchen.

“It’s okay you can put me down!” Tanjiro really is squirming wildly now but his smile isn’t quite big enough yet so Uzui holds him tighter and presses a sloppy kiss to the boy’s cheek. It smudges the mark left by Hinatsuru.

The women trail behind him, Makio and Suma fighting once more which is how he knows the gentle atmosphere has thoroughly been broken. Hinatsuru might still scold him for being less than tactful but for now he’s rather satisfied with the situation.

[smidnite]

I realize I've been very slack about posting what's going on at home, in terms of writing, but here's a recap:

I was enjoying writing a roundrobin with @winterspiderpurrs and @illogicalkat , but was losing steam because my job wears me tf out and I rarely have braincells left.

I've been working on the sides of my house, getting fill dirt and grading the side of the house, covering the exposed foundation. Y'all, that took SO MUCH fill dirt, but at least I got it for free. There's a couple in a house a few blocks from me with a sign that says "FREE FILL DIRT!" Hell yeah, I took advantage. I don't pay for what I can get for free with a little (or a LOT) of work.

While I was taking care of the grading, I was also pulling up an EGREGIOUS amount of roots from some invasive bush/ tree. The roots of which may have been responsible for getting into my clay pipes (this house was built in 1968). My dad came over with his sawzaw and together we cut down the tree. A few weeks later (as my energy allowed) I went digging down as far as could, uprooting as much as I could, before filling back in.

That said, I also, over a period of time, purchased some landscaping bricks for hella cheap, so when I finished doing the grading, I was able to cover with plastic and lay down the bricks. I'm hoping to be able to get some mulch in the new few weeks.

During all that came the sudden IKYFL on my discovery two weeks before her potential due date that one of my cats, Cardamom, was pregnant. Lil' heifer looked like a bowling pin.

She had her babies on September 30th, and the kittens are now a month and a half years old and are incredibly SPEEDY little disasters.

I purchased this house in February using the maximum amount of my retirement fund allowed, because who's going to be retiring in this economy? But what I learned is that in bundling your homeowners insurance and township taxes in with your mortgage, they are ESTIMATING the taxes. My mortgage went up a whole $300 this past millage. Which means that until I get my tax return next year, I'm going to be late on my mortgage.

Someone ran over my mailbox, smashing the crap out of it. That was $100+ that I didn't want to spend but had no choice. Yes, I COULD have taken the receipts to my insurance agent and been reimbursed, but in the long run that would raise my premium. NOPE.

And finally, I haven't been able to cook because this past Wednesday, I turned a breaker off to take out the old dishwasher that came with the house, and that Whirlpool was 20+ years old. I figured I couldn't be that hard, because in theory, it isnt.

I WAS WRONG. The biggest issue was the previous owner putting new flooring on top of the old, and AROUND the installed dishwasher. I couldn't just slide it out, so I had the dubious joy of breaking out the sawzaw again, and cutting my countertop to lift it like a car hood and get the dishwasher out.

The second hurdle was AGE. Because of the age difference in the appliances, the locations of where things are connected is different, and WHAT they're connected with is a bit different. Or, in the case of the wires, they're the same, but the length was too short.

By that evening, I was very defeated and disappointed, knowing that I was going to have to spend money I didn't have. But after sleeping on it, my brain reminded me that I am a SCAVENGER, and I DO NOT pay for things I can get for FREE!

I've been cannibalizing parts from the old dishwasher, and hopefully I'll have everything up and running by the end of the night. I've been up since 5am, and I've done two loads of laundry, cleaned the living room, and cleared off my dresser--I still have moving boxes to sort through.

I KNOW I'll pass out before 10pm, and it's noon now.

TIME TO GET TO WORK.