#but if they. if they just had gotten the chance to see things a little differently or had been shown just a little kindness

[evolnoomym]

Dirty Little Secret 🗝️

Dad’s Boss!Joel Miller x F!Reader

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: Joel likes his employees daughter just a little too much. He really tried to not give in but one fateful evening Joel loses control.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 0.8k

Authors note: No thoughts, just horny. Perhaps Yoga pants kink ??? What do we thinkkkkk??? I’m not promising for this to be amazing. I literally wrote it down in lightspeed.

Warnings: no y/n, F!OC, age-gap, FathersBoss!Joel Miller, dub con, thigh fucking, dry humping, yoga pants fetish???, Joel being a horny lonely dude, he’s sleazy

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Shoutout to @cafekitsune for the divider 🫶🏻

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 🫶🏻

Amongst the many things Joel shouldn’t do in his position, that being the boss of a successful contracting company, the worst is most likely lusting after the daughter of his favorite employee. You.

A stunning 22 year old sunshine. Something about that warmth made his cock swell again and again. How many times did you simply smile at him, resulting in Joel trying to tame his erection in the bathroom. Though he never finished, or was more was not able to. All his cock wanted was you, but just the mental image was not enough to quench his need.

It began innocently. Running into you when you brought your dad his forgotten lunch, short talks about whatever you could think of and giving you a tour of the company. Being the good girl that you are, you made sure to bring lunch for Joel too and for that alone he wanted to fuck your brains out.

He noticed that yoga pants, precisely those incredible skin tight ones, were your most liked attire to wear. You seem to own them in an array of colors and designs

Unprofessional is also to give an internship to you without paying attention to your skills or experience. He would hire you if you’d ask, he’d do anything and by now he had accepted the slight unhealthy obsession.

Even though Joel loves having you close to him, watching you walk away from him was so much better. Your butt cheeks jiggling so enticingly always leaves him Hard. Painfully so, he hadn’t gotten the chance to sink into a tight, wet and warm hole in forever so his lust was building up each day you tempted him.

Tonight however, he is gonna explode. Joel had watched you enter the cozy little work get-together earlier with your dad. Of course you wear one of those tight yoga pants again, these darn pieces of fabric leave nothing left to the imagination.

Sometimes Joel questions if you’re even wearing underwear. He sits in his office, not drawing up building plans and instead imagining your pussy rubbing against the seam all day.

He drifts off so far that he envisions sniffing and licking those pants after you wore them, these horny thoughts eat away at him.

It all boils over when he sees you slipping into the office of your dad, a chance for him, in there he can finally catch you all alone.

He trails after you carefully, watches you round the corners and bend over the table once you enter his room. A simple action that causes even more of his thoughts to stray, it’s the delicious curves of your ass, how they mold into the crotch where your puffy lips are so visible under the stretched fabric.

It all happens almost as if in trance, he pushes the door shut, locks it. Before you even have the chance to turn around he’s on you, pushing your front down on the table.

He’s tugging his zipper down, freeing his impressive throbbing length and drags his leaking tip all over your clothed butt-cheek.

“Sorry, babygirl, i couldn’t handle seein’ you prance around in those ridiculous pants.” Each word is emphasized with a thrust of his hips into your backside. His hands have a bruising grip on your hips.

“M..Mr.Miller, what are you doing?” You sound frightened and Joel can’t blame you but he has no intention to stop.

“Havin’ some fun, baby, I can make it good for you too,huh?” He humps you for a brief moment before pushing his shiny head between your clenched thighs.

“This is wrong, Mr.Miller you need to stop.” Joel might believe you’re actually telling him off, but the way your voice quivers doesn’t convince him. You don’t wanna get caught but the cock of your father’s boss doesn’t bother you.

“Shh, sweetheart, i can feel how wet you are, don’t lie to me.” The wet spandex material is offering the perfect amount of friction.

Joel can feel the telltale warmth in his groin of a pending orgasm. This might be over swiftly but he’ll make sure it won’t be the only time.

“I’m gonna come, sweetheart, paint those nice pants a lil white, huh, how bout’ that?”

Joel is on cloud nine, rambling in horny stupor.

“I’ll make a mess of you, my good little slut,” and that’s all it takes. He’s groaning loudly, frantically shaking from the harsh unloading of his heavy balls.

Unfortunately he can’t bask in the moment because he hears your father’s voice call for him. He tugs his length back into his jeans, closes his zipper and turns to leave, but not before landing a smack to your buttocks.

“That ass is a fucking present,” he leans down to your ear and whispers “can’t wait to unpack it.”

©️ evolnoomym 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[icallhimjoey]

I miss poppy and mark still and I miss that version of joe (and always bookstore joe) but that joe please he was such an idiot😭 I miss him and this is all your fault (said with so much love bye going to reread everything (again))

ok so it took me a good second, but, here you go bby <3 to the girls unfamiliar with poppy and mark: maybe have a look here Wordcount: 2.3K

---

Won’t Say It Until You Will

Sometimes you still don’t quite understand how you’ve gone literal years thinking Joe couldn’t fucking stand you.

You’d gotten so used to his stand-offish demeanor. To the arrogant smirks you’d catch just before he’d bite them back, just in time for Poppy or Mark to notice. To his overall unapproachability, and the heavy judgment that would drip off of him.

For years you thought you didn’t like Joe, simply because you were convinced Joe didn’t like you.

Didn’t like you as a person.

As Mark’s friend.

As someone that, through Mark falling for Poppy, was going to be in his life now.

You think you’re still adjusting to the sudden change. And the change was definitely sudden. Learning that, actually, Joe was trying to keep as much distance as he possibly could for the exact opposite of what you thought had been quite the shock. You might be adjusting for a while longer, still.

Which makes sense.

It is all quite the adjustment.

Joe used to be so weird around you, and you were always left to figure out why all by yourself.

The big difference now, though, is that every time Joe sees that you doubt yourself in whatever interaction you have with him, he’s quick to set the record straight.

He’s not allowed to say I love you yet.

You have to say it first for it to feel normal. Granted, barely anything about how this started feels normal to begin with. But this is something you hold onto. You tell him to shut up all the time, because you have come to know this look Joe will throw you.

This soft, adoring sort of dreamy stare Joe has a hard time containing. It’s truly quite something to be looked at like you’re the single best thing in current existence to someone. Like you’ve got shimmery diamonds and liquid gold where your heart should be.

It’s a shame it makes you frown the way it does.

“Shut up.” You’ll warn before he’s even gotten the chance to say anything.

And Joe used to reply with, “I didn’t say anything.”

That has since changed to a very dopey, a very smiley, “Okay.” that makes your nose scrunch.

Joe knows the rule.

Won’t say it until you will, no matter how many times the words will pop into his head and will beg to be released into your ears via his mouth. It’s nothing short of agony, because there’s moments where you’ll look at him like you used to. Before. When he kept his distance and would say the wrong thing, crack an unfunny joke that accidentally hurt your feelings, and – God, if he could just say those words and put your mind at ease the way the so desperately wants to...

He’s found different ways.

Has had to find different ways.

If you can’t hear the words, that’s fine. He’ll make you feel them just the same.

When you get into bed, one night, over at Joe’s place, you suddenly pause, halfway in.

“What?” Joe asks, already sort of smiling at your expression as he slides his legs under the covers on his side of the bed.

“Remember when...” you start, and immediately Joe’s aware that this can go one of two ways. You could either end up a giggling heap underneath the covers, or he’s going to end up kissing you silly to reassure every doubt from your mind.

You glance at one of his wardrobe doors and squint your eyes a little.

Joe’s scared it’s going to be the latter of the two options.

“I’ve actually never seen you wear that shirt again– have you...” you don’t finish whatever you were about to ask, and instead walk around the bed to check something. To see for yourself.

“What shirt?” Joe asks, sat up in bed, both hands in his lap over the covers, tongue pushing into his cheek as he watches you open the wardrobe.

You’re met with a meticulously well-organised row of shirts, jackets– Joe’s even got all of his trousers and jeans folded over hangers. All pressed and ironed, ready to make Joe look far smarter than he’ll feel.

You used to fall for it all the time, but you’ve since learned to see through most of it.

“How often do you get rid of clothes?” you ask, hands filtering through.

“All the time,” Joe says a little sheepishly, and jokingly adds, “You know I really only like... three things.”

Joe watches you filter through hangers at lightning speed, metal wire gliding over the rod and clanging together in your search.

You’re looking for something specific. Unsure of what made the thought pop into your head, you’d just remembered a specific shirt Joe wore once and wanted to see if he still had it. If there was maybe a reason why you hadn’t seen him wear it ever since that one night.

And, morning.

“Hmm... it’s not here.”

“What shirt are you even talking about?”

 You throw Joe a look over your shoulder, eyes squinted, and for a moment you look like you’re contemplating something. Like you’re milling something over.

Then, suddenly, Joe gets it. He knows exactly what you’re looking for, and is immediately embarrassed.

“Oh. Yea, no. Do you mean the white– my white button down? I, um… that shirt, it’s… you’re right, it’s not– it’s not there.”

Joe stutters through a bad excuse, and for an actor, he’s a fucking terrible liar. You shove aside some of his jackets, and then…

“Come back to bed, please.”

There it is.

The white button down shirt you were looking for.

You grab the hanger and pull it out, ready to happily show Joe you found it, but as you move the fabric into the light, you notice it.

See it.

“Found i– oh, my God…”

This is the shirt Joe wore to Mark and Poppy’s wedding shower. The one he said he’d get dry cleaned after he wiped your face with the sleeve, after he dabbed both your make-up covered cheeks. The one of which he’d pulled the cuff into his palm to get the fabric real close under your eyes to get rid of the wet mascara that had traveled there through tears.

You’d shown him the brown and black marks right after he’d done it, and he’d said he was going to get it dry-cleaned.

“Joe, what the…”

You’re holding a dirty shirt.

Had this stains not come out?

Clearly not.

You’re both looking at a dirty shirt. At old make-up stains that… well, this shirt is ruined. Your eyes quickly glance at the tag in the collar, and you wince.

That is too expensive of a brand for a shirt to be ruined like this.

This is the reason why you hadn’t seen Joe wear it again.

You’d ruined his shirt.

God, and you had even told him that next day, that next morning, that a regular cycle in a machine wash was going to get the stains out fine.

Obviously, it hadn’t.

Because you’re staring at caked blotches of bronzer and dark streaks of mascara and– ... you can feel how you shrink in on yourself, stood there, in his bedroom, with a stupidly expensive badly stained shirt he’d been hiding from you because he hadn’t been able to get it clean and–

Upon the sight of your face dropping, Joe gets out of bed, careful not to make any sudden movements.

“Um.. I’ll have that.”

Two slow hands come into vision and carefully take the hanger from your grip.

“Thanks.”

The shirt, in all its dirty glory, gets gently put back in its place, hidden behind Joe’s jackets, before Joe closes the wardrobe doors entirely.

“Sorry,” is all you can think to say, voice small, a little wobbly. “I’m sorry, I thought… I ruined your shirt. That should’ve come out in the wash. Sorry. I will– I’ll replace it. I’ll–”

“No you won’t.”

You drop both your shoulders just as Joe grabs hold of both of them. His grip is strong enough to bring you into the room a bit more.

“And don’t look at me like that. I didn’t… that’s… I’ve never washed it.”

What?

“You didn’t ruin the shirt. It’s just unwashed.”

Joe softly chuckles at your face and you get lead back to bed as you try to puzzle together what you’ve just been told. What that even means.

There had been plenty of whispered conversations, late at night chats in the dark, where Joe would reassure you that he had never hated you. The outward dislike had always been an awful way to hide how he really felt, and Joe was going to be kicking himself until the end of time for how that had always make you feel.

Joe is never going to be able to make it right, he thinks.

But he can fucking try.

“That’s…”

“Disgusting? Yes. Absolutely.”

He’ll die trying.

“Why haven’t you…”

You’re scared to finish the question because you fear you already know the answer.

“Didn’t want to. So don’t worry about it.”

You get tucked in as your worries easily get dismissed, but it’s difficult to make your confused frown disappear.

Joe sighs when you keep looking at him like that, sits down on the edge of the bed next to you and goes, “You’ll make fun of me. But... that’s the… that’s what I wore when you slept in my bed for the first time. It’s not ruined. Washing it would ruin it, actually.”

Everything about that is confusing and will take a minute or two for you to process. Now, here, in the moment, it just makes you grimace with horror, and that in and of itself makes Joe laugh. Makes his eyes twinkle as he bites into his lip, head titled back and to the side a little.

He can’t really help it.

“To be fair... you were never meant to find that. Can you not tell Poppy?”

“Okay. I won’t tell Poppy.” You easily agree.

“But you’ll tell Mark?”

“But I’ll tell Mark.”

Joe drops his head forward in a silent laugh. Of course you will tell Mark.

And, that’s fine. Because it’s a memory he’ll cherish forever, even if you were violently drunk that night, and your hair still smelt of vomit even though Mark’s mum had really done her best to rinse most of it out. You had found Joe’s bed on your own, and had pulled him in to nap with you and– ...he doesn’t think that it was the exact moment where things changed a little, but it was a moment momentous enough to want to keep a souvenir.

It’s why he never washed the dirty button down shirt that proved to him he hadn’t dreamt it up.

He’ll never tell you how he also still has the empty yoghurt carton he had found in his kitchen after you’d left the next morning.

And he’ll also ignore the weird fall out you had after when he lied to Poppy about it. That’s not part of the memory.

Only the good stuff.

Like how he’d barely slept at all.

How he’d gotten to stare at you all night long.

How he’d finally, after hours of collecting courage, had softly let one of his fingertips stroke along the skin of your arm.

How that made you hum contently in your sleep.

If he thinks about it for too long, he could easily make himself cry. Looking at you now, all relaxed into the pillows of his bed, he could make himself cry.

When Joe looks at you a little too long without saying anything, dopey grin and all, your frown only deepens.

“Shut up.”

Joe knows it was bound to be said, but it still tickles him and he lets a throaty laugh escape him before he turns faux-serious.

“Ah. It’s made a return.” Joe scans your features and talks like he’s in a film, speaking to a villain. “That face. Are you even aware of how powerful it is? Makes me feel how much my soul wants to escape my body.”

That gets a little grin out of you, and it’s cute enough for Joe to want to tell the whole entire world how much he loves you. He wonders if you know how much it pains him. How often he can feel the scratch of the words in his throat, the violent urge to just let them free ever present.

But he won’t.

You’d just told him to shut up, so he will shut up, and instead will let those three words seep out in other ways. Through his hands that wander up to your neck. Through his fingers that swipe under your jaw, tipping your head back a little so he can easily kiss you.

You happily accept his kisses, because even though you’re still adjusting to all these little changes in your truth, it all ultimately means that Joe really, really likes you.

Really, really, really likes you.

And of course you know it’s more than that to Joe.

And that he really wants to tell you already.

But he’s not allowed.

Not yet.

Which is fine. He can just kiss you. And he will. Like he’s doing right now.

Joe still can’t quite believe he’s kissing you in his bed, and he can’t believe there was ever a time where he wasn’t.

When he pulls back, still sat on the side instead of under the covers with you, he hovers over you a little. Gives you a quiet moment, just in case you want to tell him.

And you will.

With time.

But not now.

“Shut up.” you repeat, giggling now at how lovesick he looks, and Joe can’t help grin in the way that he does.

He used to reply with, “I didn’t say anything.”

Instead he says, “Okay.” and goes for another kiss when he sees your nose scrunch.

Joe knows the rule.

Won’t say it until you will.

---

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[damnfeelings09]

Valentine's day countdown: First date - Shadow the Hedghog

Pairing: Shadow the hedghog x female reader Tags: fluff, comfort, awkward crush. Word count: 750. Prompt: you and Shadow have been friends for a while, and although he has a massive crush on you and is dying to have you as more than a friend he's not willing to take that step (secretly he's very insecure okay) after a little encouragement from Sonic he asked you out he never imagined how it would end. Notes: First valentine's day prompt and what better way to start it than with my eternal love Shadow. I'm love/romance depraved so these promts will be fluff in its cheesiest and purest form (like melting chocolate in a super sweet cotton candy ice cream with a Cherry on top kind of sickeningly sweet) This time I'll try a different style so let me know if you like it.

Shadow wasn't afraid of anything. He was the ultimate lifeform after all, then… why did his pulse quicken every time he was near you? Why did he feel his palms get wet each time you smiled at him? Why did his fight or flight response activated every time you were there?

Shadow wasn't afraid of anything. But maybe, maybe he was afraid of what he felt for you, afraid that he would become addicted to the feeling of you caressing his cheek, afraid that he couldn't go on without seeing the sparkle in your eyes every day, afraid of getting used to the warmth of your hand on his, afraid that if he said a word of what he felt he would lose you, because let's be honest, who could love a monster like him?

He was unsure, and every time that happened he went to Rouge, however the bat was not at home, so he went to his second best worst option. Sonic

Sonic with his usual cocky grin as Shadow explained the situation. Sonic, the same Sonic that he punched every chance he got just to release some stress and because he enjoyed it, the same Sonic that screwed up time and time again running away from Amy was the one that Shadow had decided to approach for romantic advice.

“Just don't think too much about it Shads” Sonic had said ”She likes you, trust me”

“Easier said than done”

“Well, it's either that or you'll be stuck with ' what could’ve been' forever.”

Honestly, Sonic hadn't been much help, but at least he had planted the seed of doubt in Shadow. What would be the worst that could happen if he kept his feelings to himself? You would probably find someone, that someone would take your hand, receive your caresses, taste your lips and you would forget about him, leaving him aside, alone, unloved.

No. Shadow wouldn't let that happen, the little bit of love he got from you was too addictive and he wasn't about to let anyone else have it. He had made up his mind and although the chances of you feeling the same were low they still weren't 0. He still had no idea how he managed to do it, well maybe he had a little idea. He knew he had walked you home, he knew he had said a few embarrassing things as you walked together making you laugh, what he didn't know was where he had gotten the courage to ask you out when you were about to enter your house.

“See you tomorrow Shadow,” you said waving goodbye to him.

“Wait” he said almost in a whisper. You turned, shaking your head to the side “I... ah...” he scratched his head.

“Is everything okay?”

“I wanted to... I wanted to ask you out.”

“Sure! You know I love going out with you Shadow”

“As... in a date”

“Oh...” oh? What did that mean, it wasn't the yes he was expecting but it wasn't a denial either, it was as if he had surprised you, as if you didn't imagine he could have feelings for-

“I'd love to” you cut off his thought bringing him back to earth. The smile on your face showed shyness but the pink blush on your cheeks and the loud thumping of your heart confirmed to Shadow that his feelings were reciprocated. “I... I'd like you for a while, just didn't know of you might... like me too” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear meeting your gaze with Shadow's causing him to blush. If this were a cartoon his eyes would have turned into hearts and little blue birds would fly around his head.

“I've been feeling like this for a while too, just...”

“It’s okay” you smiled “I'll see you tomorrow for our date” you walked up to him and deposited a kiss on his cheek, waving your fingers in a goodbye motion and closing the door behind you. Little did he know that you slid down the door frame, hand on your heart triyng to stop the rush in your body.

Shadow stood outside your door, his hand holding the very spot where your lips had touched his cheek trying to capture the warmth of your touch, his stomach felt funny as if something was churning inside him just remembering your kiss. It was then that he realized that maybe allowing himself to be happy wasn't such a bad thing.

[brain4stew]

Hi!Can you please make a chance,shedletsky,007,and 1x4 with a robot reader?Like theyre basically a walking four leaf clover(their ability gives people luck basically)And is also able to heal????TYSM i love your fics!!!!!

Hi, hi anon! So glad you like my fics!! Full honesty, the fics were my first ever fics I have written! 🫶

I’ll see what I can do with your request, anon!

(Reminder; I do not entirely know the characters personalities and etc, so they might if not most likely will be OOC!!)

That being said! Here’s the headcanons/something after the cut! ;

(Since 1x4 is the only killer, I’ll start with him first!)

(1x1x1x1)

• You infuriate him in every round you’re against him. Stop healing and giving the survivors luck!

• You’re somehow extremely lucky to not be hit by his “Mass infection” and “entanglement”, or else your system would malfunction.

• You did get hit by it once, and had to immediately find 007n7 or Builderman, so they could fix you.

• But, how unfortunate for you… Everyone of your survivor teammates are dead, and your system is basically… Fckd.

• You get somewhere high ground, and try and fix yourself, unbeknownst to you, that 1x1x1x1 is watching.

• Why hasn’t he killed you, you may ask? You’re interesting to the embodiment of hatred. You aren’t a human, or some annoying thing with two lives, you’re a robot!

• When you do manage to fix yourself, you’re somehow met face to face with him. 1x1x1x1. He’s just, staring at you.

• You, unsure what to do or say at the moment, were about to speak, but you don’t manage to. As the round ends, transporting you both back to your lobbies.

• You’re confused, so you immediately go to find either 007n7 or Builderman, so they can help you with your system and check over your mechanical body.

• 1x1x1x1, who hasn’t said or even moved a single muscle since he got back to the killer lobby, has gotten pieces of your code from his abilities.

• You intrigue and infuriate him, little robot. ♡

(Survivors)

(Chance)

• Chance absolutely loves having you around him. You’re his lucky robot!

• He always tests his luck whenever you have given other survivors luck. (Spoiler; the luck kept going back and forth between him and the other survivor. 😭)

• In rounds, he doesn’t flip his coin right away. He immediately goes to find you.

• When he finds you, and is near you, he feels lucky, but, he asks you to give him luck. Which, you do. Then, and only then, does he flip his coin, getting good stats, and only weakness VI, with 3 charges.

• He shoots the killer when the killer is too close for comfort of you and him, and it lands its shot. (The killer kind of got sent flying into a wall by that shot…)

• Of course, whenever he’s injured, he trusts you more than Elliot, which, you find a bit strange, as you specialize in luck giving more than healing. But, you don’t complain and heal him.

• When the round is over, and you’re both back in the lobby, he’s quite exhausted from running and walking around. He, jokingly, asks you to carry him to the couch.

• …You carry him. Bridal style. He’s embarrassed, flustered and shocked. He didn’t expect you to actually do it!! (He’s not complaining about it… He secretly likes it…)

• Go easy on the poor gambler, little robot. ♡

(Shedletsky)

• He helped both Builderman and 007n7 with your code, but not too much.

• You constantly have to remind him of his health, which, he finds a bit annoying, but he doesn’t say or do anything about it.

• He loves it when you give him luck in rounds, he manages to hit the killers more faster for some reason!

• Whenever he’s out of his fried chicken, he goes to you to heal up, as he’s had enough to eat, and doesn’t want pizza’s from Elliot…

• Again, you find it odd, but oh well, you don’t question it. You heal him up, earning a “Thank you” from him.

• When the rounds are over, he’s almost passing out everytime and everywhere.

• You end up carrying him, and he doesn’t even complain or just doesn’t have the energy to fight back. (Not that he can do much about it anyway…)

• Watch over him, little robot, he might be in trouble, if it’s not for you. ♡

(007n7)

• He was the main person for your code, with a little help from Shedletsky and Builderman.

• He originally wanted to program you to watch over, and take care of C00lkidd for him, but decided against it.

• You’re mostly always around him or Builderman, in case your system malfunctions or something.

• In rounds, he doesn’t need to go to you, as he knows he and you’ll be alright.

• (He won’t be alright, the killer is his son… How unfortunate for 007n7, to see C00lkidd, yet again…)

• He’s hurt, of course. He first thought of going to Elliot, but, he’s dead unfortunately. So he goes to search for you!

• You have just given Guest 1337 luck, to block, punch and charge more quickly and correctly, before you finally spot him.

• You rush towards him, and pick him up, running to a more safer and hidden place, before healing him. (He’s very grateful for it, but you didn’t have to CARRY him!)

• Once back at the lobby, he goes to check on your system, and check if anything is wrong. He finds that a wire of yours has gone aflame, and tells you to go to Builderman, out of worry.

• You insist you will be fine, but, the stern glare he gives you, somehow scared you. So, you relented and went.

• Perhaps he likes you, little robot! ♡

[apocalyqsc]

RANCH IN THE SOUTH

cw; retired!beau a. (he’s already a dilf 😝) x young!reader—domestic fluff, suggestive, kissing, blurb

authors note; deep breaths NRNRNDBBDFB. domesticated fluff w retired!beau is all i needed. based off this post. uhm @soldiersgirl tributed to the idea n i fed off it. thank u. also this may sound a li’l arrogant but i think this would make a banger ass series

BEAU had finally put the badge and gun down—and gosh, you were so giddy about it. you’d been pestering him about retiring anyways, to live on a ranch and raise chickens, and sell eggs. to own cows to have milk. you had a whole layout about the hole thing.

if anything; it brought out a side of you that beau had never gotten a chance to see until he retired. he loved whenever you had kicked your legs back in forth on his trailer bed when he told you that buying the ranch was official. it was a look he’s never be able to erase from his head, no matter how much he desired to.

the ranch wasn’t perfect or anything, but all it needed was a little tender, love and care. as well as elbow grease. though the place was a tad run down, but the light in your eyes never faded as they cleaned the little house that came with the barn. you’d picked up a shift at a grocery store to help with the cause to fix the barn up, and beau used his retirement check to contribute. of course their were arguements here and their, but it never stopped either of you from curling up together at night, whispering soft apologies.

couples argued during stressful times. it just took a little bit of effort to push past it. and the two of you did. every single time you did.

you woke up to the smell of bacon. it was almost cartoonish how fast you got up to go get some. though you felt absolutely sluggish from how hard you’d been working for the past month, it was the weekend. their was no reason to push yourself so hard. you were relaxing.

the floorboards creaked under your weight. beau’s southern draw rang in your ears as beau spoke to you, “mornin’, sweetheart. i’was gonna let you rest ‘til i finished breakfast.” you stopped behind him as he flipped the sizzling bacon, your arms wrapping around his torso as you peered over his shoulder to see the bacon. you yawned softly as the bacon curled up on the grittle

“aren’t you a gentleman.” “i think so myself.” he said arrogantly as he picked the bacon of the grittle one by one. it was a small testimony to beau’s deep love and how his yearning grew everyday. despite all the sleepless nights of you two killing bugs (beau was the one doing it all) and in despite all the arguments.

if beau could, he would second handly kill all the bugs on earth for you. he’s buy to fourthly ranches. and you wouldn’t have to work at some sappy grocery store were the only break is the weekend and when you got off. beau turned the gritted off, placing two hands on your hips as he leaned down to kiss you. his breath twinged with this mornings toothpaste, and a spike of last nights beer.

“i could just eat you up.” he whispered into your ear, nipping at your ear softly. it earned a sharp, surprised noise from you. and that was a win in his book.

[cweeming]

act three.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

it took you a while to get used to being in his lap. well, that just happened.

"a little heads-up would have been nice," you teased, and Patch couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. more attention would have been nice.

"missy." he found himself responding back to your teasing, adding emphasis on the nickname he coined for you.

"you know, I find it quite funny how a grown man such as yourself would need stress relief before a show." you fixed him with a smirk, in the mood for playful banter. as were he - he would fully allow it. "what, afraid you're going to miss a thing or two there and be ridiculed~?"

you felt as he poked your belly button, a particular sensitive spot on your body. it's not like he knew. with a blush, your expression turned sheepish, quickly swatting at his hand.

"is that not why I'm here, no?" he watched you with his one eye as you brushed yourself off, giving you the moment to compose properly. "with the proper practice, followed by the proper audience, comes confidence."

he was totally talking about you.

after you've had your moment, you decided to get straight into business. "so, the sypnosis of the show goes like this: it's a short love story that's set in a park during an early spring evening. Lena and Elliot - you and I - are strangers who meet by chance. and as we talk, a connection begins to form, exploring the ideas of love and serendipity." you picked up the new script Patch had gotten for you, studying it as you held it up to your face. this is something he could go through with. "now, is there any particular part you want to go over?"

as the two of you rehearsed, you couldn't help but find yourself becoming... attached to the man. and not in the basic, "I'm having feelings for this person" kind of way. it were a primal instinct. like if you didn't fuck him right then and there, you would die. unbeknownst to you, he could sense it.

and it would only escalate further during one particular scene. you acted your part as Lena, setting your script down as you looked at Patch curiously. "do you believe in love?"

he didn't need to look at his script, but he needed to use it as a distraction for what he were about to do. in character as Elliot, he lazily brang his script into the air, allowing his hand to fall from your hip... to your bottom.

"love?" he released a small laugh. "that's a big question for... a park bench."

the sound of a moan filled his ears as his hand slipped into your panties, groping the firm flesh of your asscheek. unsatisfied, he would repeat the action, resulting in yet another sound (albeit small).

"w-what are you doing?" your body pressed against his own, hands gripping his shoulders. you refused to give him the satisfaction of how you were feeling, simply blushing. "this isn't part of the script."

"your next line would be, I'm not askin' you for a philosophical dissertation." dropping the script from his hands, a hint of lust were prominent in his eye as he looked up at you. "or am I wrong?"

your mouth opened slightly in shock, unable to believe what you were hearing. okay. wow. he were really going there.

"this isn't really appropriate." you suddenly became shy, stroking a strand of your hair. "what if we get caught? what if someone walks in during the middle of what we're doing?" you aren't sure if you're ready for anything either, since you're a virgin.

he simply played with your panty, tugging at it and feeling the fabric. "let them."

let them, you repeated to yourself internally. what a strange man. the last thing you expected when being told you'd have a backup partner was to be fancied. damn, did it feel good. the only problem being, you couldn't let it clash with the show. "are you sure we should be doing this? we're merely strangers..."

with his empty hand, he gripped your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, slightly tilting your chin up.

"I don't see why not."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀...

the next few minutes were spent in silence. Patch had his hands on your hips, guiding you as you grinded against his lap. the pleasure etched on your face was unmistakable, and although it took you every ounce not to react, he could sense just how much you were enjoying it. his glare was rather intense, his brow pulled into a furrow while a frown were on his face. all you could think about were whether or not he were interested in this as much as you were.

"... I think we got off on the wrong foot." you panted softly, continuing to grind against his lap. your hands slowly found themselves against his neck. "the name's Kiara Smith. I'm an artisan here within Madripoor. theatre is what I call home. people usually say I'm a big star, but I only see myself as the lead role."

he would simply respond with, "I know." you watched as he pulled out a cigar, carefree, before lighting the foot on fire. to say you were offended were an overstatement. the last thing you wanted to deal with was a stalker.

"excuse me?" you stammered over your words, trying to find the right thing to say. "I don't suppose you to be a stalker."

"close." he huffed his cigar, before removing it from his mouth and withdrawing smoke. "I'm a fan."

hearing this revelation put you into a dumbfounded state. the entire time, you've been thinking this guy was just some random who wanted a piece of you. when in reality...

"... that just makes the sex even better." you spoke before you thought. realizing this, you quickly covered your mouth with both hands, a blush coloring your cheeks. "too soon?"

he shook his head, a light smirk drawn on his face. "'course not."

he grabbed your hand from his neck, moving it so your arm were over his shoulder. you did the same with your other hand, wrapping both arms around his neck. you didn't realize how close you'd be until you were nose-to-nose with him. of course, you couldn't help but make a fuss out of this.

"your cigar stinks," you growled lightly, annoyance etched onto your face. he snickered, pulling the cigar out of his mouth and blowing smoke into your face to mock you.

"deal with it, missy." he set the cigar aside, before wrapping his arms around your ass. he made his efforts very clear - he wanted you to make the first move.

he nudged your ass a few times, bringing you closer to his face. his beard lightly grazed against your face, your lips brushing up against his own. not very lady-like, you thought, but you also had no say in choice.

after a moment, you pressed your lips to his, kissing him - in return, he kissed you.

sadly, it didn't last long. the cigar-after taste dripping from his breath got to you, making you sputter and cough. Patch watched with amusement as you backed away, letting you have your moment. he wouldn't let you off the hook, though.

"terrible," he teased, a smug smile on his face. you growled in response, holding back from telling him to stfu. if it weren't for him and his smoking. "I oughta show you how it's properly done."

with that, he slowly leaned in, wanting to prove the point of being a better kisser. you just couldn't help but mess with him. noticing the eyepatch on his right eye, you extended you hand toward it, wanting to see what were under it.

not until he caught you.

as if it were a sixth sense. his left eye side-eyed your hand in a matter of seconds. acting on instinct, he grunted, quickly grabbing ahold of your wrist.

"hands off the patch, love." he held your gaze, his claws semi-extracted. seemed as though the eyepatch meant business.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

the two of you made out. pretty good kisser he were, you thought to yourself. only problem were, you seemed rather shy on french kissing him... you moaned softly at the feel of his tongue against yours, pulling away. but, he held your head in place with two hands, tongue delving past yours. desperate to maintain control.

"a-ah~..." after a good while, he released you, a string of saliva connecting your tongues. you breathed rather heavily, a strong blush on your face.

Patch's hands found their way to your button through shirt, pulling it over your shoulders. "ain't you hot in these?" he asked, allowing the button through shirt to fall from your arms. "a crop top weren't good enough. tch. you've got on this red shirt, and a pair of blue shorts past your knees. I'd be dyin' of sweat."

"I thought I put on a pretty good outfit." you stated matter of factly, the button through shirt leaving your body and dropping to the floor. you watched as his hands made their way to your shorts, finger latching around a tab as he tugged you closer. "pretty hypocritical, coming from the man in a suit."

"ouch." a smug smile appeared on his face, enjoying the jab directed toward him. "you've got fire. I like it."

the next few minutes would be spent removing the clothes from your body. shorts? off they go. crop top? cute, but it wouldn't sit right with just your panties. they were next, leaving you in only your matching bra and panties.

the room suddenly grew cold. you shivered, crossing your arms over your chest. so much for wearing a summer outfit.

"you match?" Patch asked, eyeing the blue floral bra and panties covering your most sensitive spots. "uhuh," you answered. "like it?" he gave you the look. like it? of course he does. he's a man, for goodness sake. you blushed, feeling awkward under your gaze.

"... so." you shifted uncomfortably in his lap, fidgetting with your fingers. "what do we do now?" he looked to the side for a moment, his mind forming a thought. when one came, a lightbulb lit up, looking back up at you.

"bet I'm the one who could bring you over to a new high." his eye narrowed, a smirk splitting from one side of his face to the other. you knew full well what he meant. a familiar ache formed in your gut as you blushed, drawn in by what he had to offer.

[smilesession]

i don’t know how to move forward as a person who got so deeply psychologically nuked so young. like if an avoidant and helpless sort of personality formed when you were too young to even have had a chance to form anything else. and you see reminders of it everywhere. there’s so many things I just don’t know about and i can cope and pretend it’s because im aboveitall but it’s all because of abuse. I don’t feel like anyone knows what it’s like either. when it was so severe and so constant and started so early that you’ve only ever just been completely exhausted, “ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be on the computer in bed a lot”, and it’s only gotten a little better but you always know you’ll always be at a serious disadvantage in every way

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

i think about the whole "love that" exchange a lot.

[vanillaboyfriend]

that edit is doing better than i expected :) yippee

[jubileebloom]

I aspire to be a lover not a hater. but

[vargamornight]

i just remembered when i was in the eighth grade my middle school was having some kind of giveaway and the way you got a prize was they put little targets on the ground on the other side of a volleyball net and you had to hit the target for the thing you wanted to win. or you could just hope, i guess. but i am, and this feels like a brag but it's literally just a statement of fact, so fucking good at volleyball it's not even funny.

so my mom and i went to the thing and i asked her what prize she wanted. there were mp3 players, sweatshirts, coupon books, that kind of stuff. she said she wanted the sweatshirt. since i was on the volleyball team i got one hit for free so i went up, hit the sweatshirt target effortlessly, and brought it back to my mom. and now that i think of it, y'know, that would've been a really good time for her to be like "wow that was amazing, thank you for doing that for me when you could have won something for yourself" but no she was a wretched ungrateful bitch who never gave me a compliment in my entire life, leading me to be an olympic level athlete at 20 with no idea that that was out of the ordinary because nobody ever fuckin said anything

[sysig]

Size difference.png (Patreon)

[space-spring]

[notesofarichlycolorednight]

watching swamp jawn's video breakdowns of the dunmeshi episodes is making me think a lot abt cloverwork's adaptation of black butler and now i'm sad as;ldkjfkl

as an aside: i fucking love his videos. the breakdown of each episode so so cool, and i love that he points out the tricks they use and also the different animation styles of the team!

[pepprs]

mutuals i got myself into a situation so sticky i don’t even know how to describe it (edit: *describes it* lol). please send thoughts of successful escape my way lol

[misaamoure]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭:

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝…!

⋅ ˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬:

“Yes,” Sylus threw his head back, exposing his adam’s apple. “Just like that.”

Things had gotten a little heated on the couch in the living room.

You two had been watching this old ass movie tied to a soundtrack in Sylus’s vinyl collection as a pastime, and had clearly gotten distracted.

He had been very periodic and methodical with his caresses and touched, before finally leaning over and whispering in your ear, “instead of watching a movie, why don’t we make one?”

Stupid. How predictable.

Sylus was beyond hot though, so you let it slide.

Turning away for a moment to roll your eyes, you swing your leg over his lap to straddle him.

And that’s how you two ended up here.

You’d never had a makeout session so intense.

You felt his hands all over you… you felt like you were on fire.

You were also more than positive that your wetness had leaked all the way through your panties and pants.

“Oh!”

Your train of thought was interrupted when Sylus thrusted right up into you.

It felt so good… you could feel his hard dick pressing right into your clit.

“You shouldn’t give away what you like so easily, sweetie,” He gave one last squeeze to your tits before moving his hands down to grip your waist. “You’re giving me such a large advantage.”

Jesus Christ he talks too damn much.

You didn’t particularly feel like arguing with him today. Sure, it could be fun, but what you really wanted was to shut him up.

Deciding to take the initiative, you repositioned yourself to sit right on his hard dick, and started to roll your hips back and forth.

Sylus inhaled sharply, something you didn’t miss.

Grinding on him slowly and sensually, you feel his hands twitch on your waist as you kissed down his jawline to give his neck a sharp bite.

The sound of Sylus’s heavy breathing and moaning only egged you on further.

“Fuck, kitten,” He shut his eyes tightly, throwing his head back. “Wait…”

Sylus was going fucking crazy.

Why did it feel so good? It was just a little kissing and grinding.

He suddenly felt like a horny teenager all over again.

But it felt so fucking good… you felt so fucking good. Rarely did you ever have the chance to get on top like this.

Maybe he should let you do it more often.

It was so out of character for him, to be moaning and panting like this. His head was a mess.

His boxers were a mess too, all the precum he had been leaking.

The electrifying feeling of your wet cunt dragging over his cock was driving him over the edge quicker than he’d like to admit.

“Wait, please,” Sylus felt fucking neurotic, begging like this. “Y/N… wait…”

It wasn’t long after that Sylus felt himself cum in his pants. Hard.

Holding you tightly by the waist and panting up a storm.

Oh my god… there’s no way he…?

You quickly sat up on your knees, lifting yourself off of his lap to see with your own two eyes.

And he did! There was an unmistakable wet spot right where his dick was.

Fuck… it was so erotic.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞:

Unintentional dry spells. It was common between you and Zayne.

He was always busy at the hospital and you were constantly running around to kick wanderer ass.

But you two always made that lost time up.

In fact; you can say with full confidence that you preferred the sex after the build up.

There was a particular intensity that came with it that simply couldn’t be replicated.

Nobody else saw Zayne with this level of passion but you.

It was his day off and he had invited you over.

While you two had been once sitting on his couch, things had began to get heated after Zayne initiated a kiss with you, stating how much he missed you.

It was rare for him to verbalize exactly what he felt so boldly.

Oh he was so sweet. The sweetest man you’d ever met.

Cut to you being on top of him with him laying on the couch below you.

You don’t even remember when you got on top of him. Well… not that it mattered.

Not when he was making you feel this good. He was the only thing on your mind at the moment.

“Y/N… please,” You felt his grip on your waist tighten as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Wait…”

Hearing him beg and plead with you was making you unbelievably wet.

You didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t stop. It was too good. And you’d been waiting for him for hours.

With every pass of Zayne’s hard cock over your clothed clit you became more and more aggressive.

“I’m not going to last like this,” He said breathlessly. “Please, my love, enough…!”

Oh my god was it your birthday?

Making Zayne cum in his pants sounded maddening.

He was under you losing his mind.

Zayne could feel how wet you were through all the layers you two were wearing.

The delicious friction of how perfectly you were grinding on him was bringing him to his climax all too quickly.

“Y/N… I’m-”

Digging his fingers into your hips, Zayne came all into his boxers.

Shit… you drove him crazy.