#football padded shirt

[elitesports]

Exploring the Comfort and Safety of Football Padded Shirts

Football, often dubbed the beautiful game, is a sport known for its agility, speed, and physicality. In the world of competitive sports, player safety and performance enhancement are paramount. One piece of gear that has gained significant popularity in recent years is the football padded shirt. These innovative garments offer a blend of comfort, protection, and flexibility, making them a crucial addition to any football player's equipment. We'll dive into the world of football padded shirts and explore their significance in the game.

What Is a Football Padded Shirt?

A football padded shirt is a specialized piece of sportswear designed to provide players with extra protection during matches. It's constructed with strategically placed padding in key areas like the shoulders, chest, and ribcage. This padding is often made of lightweight, impact-resistant materials that help absorb and disperse shock from collisions or falls. Additionally, football padded shirts are tailored to fit snugly, ensuring that the padding stays in place while allowing for a wide range of motion.

Enhancing Player Safety

Player safety is a top priority in football, and padded shirts play a crucial role in reducing the risk of injuries. The padding helps to absorb impact, reducing the force transferred to the player's body. In a physically demanding sport like football, where tackles and collisions are inevitable, having that extra layer of protection can be a game-changer. By using the keyword, let's emphasize that football padded shirt enhance player safety.

Optimizing Performance

While safety is paramount, football players also need to perform at their best. Football padded shirts are designed with this in mind. The lightweight padding offers protection without compromising mobility. Players can sprint, jump, and tackle with confidence, knowing that their padded shirt won't hinder their performance.

Comfort and Flexibility

One of the key features of football padded shirts is their comfort and flexibility. The snug fit ensures that the padding stays in place, and the materials used are breathable, wicking away moisture to keep players dry. During a fast-paced match, comfort is essential, and football padded shirts provide just that.

Types of Football Padded Shirts

Football padded shirts come in various designs to cater to different needs. Some are long-sleeved, providing added protection to the arms. Others are sleeveless, allowing for more freedom of movement. There are even compression-style padded shirts that offer a snug fit, aiding in muscle recovery and reducing muscle fatigue.

Choosing the Right Football Padded Shirt

Selecting the right football padded shirt is essential for both safety and performance. It's vital to consider the fit, padding material, and design that suits your playing style. Remember that a well-fitted padded shirt will provide the most effective protection.

Caring for Your Football Padded Shirt

Proper maintenance of your padded shirt is crucial to ensure its longevity. Most football padded shirts are machine washable, but always check the care instructions. Avoid using harsh detergents or fabric softeners that could damage the padding or affect the shirt's moisture-wicking properties.

In the world of football, safety and performance go hand in hand. Football padded shirts have revolutionized the game by offering players a comfortable, flexible, and protective solution. With the keyword used strategically throughout the blog, we've emphasized the significance of these shirts in enhancing player safety and performance.

[curran55]

Youth Padded Football Shirts and Team Identity

In the world of youth football, the right gear does more than just provide protection—it builds team identity and unity. Youth padded football shirts  are crucial for safety, featuring strategically placed padding to shield young players from impacts. But beyond their protective function, these shirts play a significant role in fostering team spirit and identity.

Customized with team colors, logos, and player names, padded football shirts help young athletes feel part of something bigger. When each player dons a matching, branded shirt, it reinforces a sense of belonging and pride. This unity translates to better teamwork on the field, as players recognize their shared purpose and commitment to their team.

Brands like Exxact Sports excel in offering high-quality youth padded football shirts that can be personalized to reflect team identity. With options for customization, teams can stand out while ensuring their players are protected and comfortable. 

Investing in customized padded football shirts not only enhances safety but also boosts morale, making every player feel like a vital part of the team. Let your young athletes wear their team colors with pride and confidence, knowing they are united and protected in their quest for victory.

[wellnesscard]

im daddy long legs im the gangle gangster im mista 2x4

[jarofstyles]

quiet yn in a secret relationship with popular football player or frat harry 🤭

Ohhhh let me do a lil of this! Football h 😩

Check out our Patreon

—-

“What are you doing?” Y/N whispered, feeling slight panic as the large palm pushed her further down the hallway. She nearly tripped over her feet as they reached the end, the grip turning possessive as he turned her around and pinned her against his door, fury blazing in his eyes.

“You’re mine, yeah?” He spoke lowly, grit in his voice as he slid his other hand under her hair, squeezing the back of her neck. The little move always made her shiver, the pads of his fingers indenting in the sensitive skin.

“Yeah- what? Whats happening? Why did you drag me away?” Her confusion was evident on her face and it seemed to exasperate him more, leaning his forehead against hers. They were both slightly sweaty from the heat the multitude of bodies brought the house to, but he had led her far away from that.

“Because.” He grunted, the hand on her back hauling her closer to his body. “All those fucking guys were… they were eye fucking you. They were trying to talk to you, trying to get you to fuck them. And since you insist on keeping us a secret… I needed to get you as far away as I could.” His eyes burned into hers, a flash of insecurity making her furrow her brows.

“What? No, no they didn’t want that. They were asking me if I had openings in my photography schedule for them!” She insisted. “They were saying they wanted some photos done in uniform for their instagrams and stuff, they don’t want to fuck me.”

The pure intentions of his girlfriend were not lost on him, but it wasn’t her he was worried about. “Baby…” he sighed, closing his eyes as he shook his head against hers. “No. It’s an excuse to get you alone. We have a team photographer- they don’t need more shots in their uniforms.” He didn’t like this one bit. “They think you’re open for them to hit on. Think you’re a cute, single, fresh little thing. Up for the taking. They don’t know that you’re my girl, that you wear my shirts to bed, that it’s my cock that’s gonna be inside you tonight…” the relationship being a secret was not his choice.

If Harry had it his way, everyone would know she was his girl. There would be no question about who she went home to; whose jersey she would wear as soon as the season started. He’d post her on his social media and he’d kiss her before and after games, he’d brag about her any time he could. She was the hesitant one.

It wasn’t for a lack of appreciation. His girl always told him how much she adored spending time with him, how good he made her feel about herself and how much she adored him in general- but she was anxious about people knowing. Being with a man like him wasn’t the easiest. Women threw themselves at him, media followed him around as an ‘eligible bachelor’, people dug into him, it wasn’t the simplest sort of thing. But he would do anything to protect her from it.

“But you know that.” She whispered, reaching up to caress his cheek. He’d shaven clean this morning but there was the tiniest bit of texture from the regrowth of his beard. “You know I’m yours and that I…” her face was hot as she recalled his last statement. “We do it all together. But I didn’t know.” The realization that it hadn’t been real inquires into her services stung, but she couldn’t really fault them for it. She understood the motive. They truly didn’t know their teammate already had her down, locked in with a master key.

“I know you didn’t, sweetheart.” He sighed, placing a slow kiss on her lips. The vanilla chapstick always did something to him, honestly part of it being making his dick twitch. She tasted so good in every single way you could think of. “I know. You’re genuine and sweet and the guys are… well, they’re dirty. They want the pretty girl in their bed. You’re so incredible. I’d say I can’t blame them, but I can. It isn’t a good look for me t’punch them in their sick little faces but every time they looked you over I wanted to do it.” Harry did have a bit of a violent streak sometimes.

“None of that, please.” She shook her head, yelping slightly as his hand on her back went lower, scooping her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist with her hand falling from his face to grasp his shoulders, her back against the door fully now. “H-H? What the hell are you doing?” The nervous giggle made him groan as he pressed kisses down her cheek, making his way towards her jaw.

“M’reminding myself that you’re mine and that I can do whatever I want with you.” He mumbled against her skin. “And I don’t care if this is my party at my house. M’taking you into the bedroom and M’gonna fuck you and get you nice n’full of me to remind myself even better that you’re my girl.”

[tsimvkas]

show me how — mason mount.

A/N: ik it’s game night but im fucking ANXIOUS and when i finish something i just need to post it!! elisa asked for this one so thanks or complaints are on her 🙇🏻‍♀️

word count: 4.8k | masterlist

content: innocent!reader losing her virginity with mase that’s it thanks

Since you met Mason, you had always find it hard how he was so open about sex. How it was such a natural thing for him.

You understand that being a boy gave him this privilege, and that your lack of experience made you naturally more shy about it. You still can’t believe Mason Mount was your first.

It hadn’t been easy admitting to him on one of your dates before you slept together, but he was gentle about it, actually letting you lead every make out session and only going as far as you would let him.

And it took you a long time to let him go actually far. Not that you didn’t want to sleep with him — you were dying to be properly touched by Mason.

But he’s Mason. A footballer who slept with countless girls, all of them more experienced than you. Even though he was really sweet about it and telling you he’d teach you everything when you were ready, you still felt insecure.

This only changed on a soft and cosy night six months after you started dating… five weeks ago.

The pair of you only got to see each other during weekdays and the weekends Mason had home matches, so the weeks you could share together were divided into a week at his and another at yours.

It was a cosy night at his, cooking pasta together and watching Spider-Man on his sofa. Mason was laying on his back with half of your body on top of his, his hand underneath your shirt, rubbing circles against your back.

When the movie ended, he turned the tv off and stretched his body, making you giggle before readjusting yours.

“Bed time?” he murmured, kissing the tip of your nose, but you could barely process his words.

He’s so pretty, and you got lost admiring his features. His warm eyes, the tiny and sleepy smile, the corner of his mouth and the uncountable amount of freckles on his face.

Leaning your face upwards, you shyly pecked his lips. Mason smiled, knowing you find it hard to initiate kisses with him, and kissed you back. Properly this time.

It started slow and gentle, and you melted against his body. Your boyfriend had the power to make you dizzy with just a kiss, and your had to grab his shoulder to be sure you weren’t falling off the sofa.

Mason squeezed your waist, sneakily sliding his hand to your bum. It was something you both had agreed was fine for you, and he’d often slap it whilst passing through you, or cheekily grabs it during a movie session. He hadn’t done it whilst kissing you yet.

When you slightly opened your mouth, a bit surprised by his actions, Mason slid his tongue inside. He was still kissing you very softly, but it suddenly wasn’t what you wanted anymore.

Moving your hand to Mason’s neck, you felt a heat washing over you, adjusting your body on top of his. Instead of being laid flat against him, you were suddenly with your knees on either side of him, never breaking the kiss.

Obviously, he noticed the shift in your mood. But Mason isn’t the type of guy to jump in the first opportunity, and he wanted to be sure you really wanted to take the next step.

So instead of making any comments or trying to make things hotter, he just laid there, with you on top of him, your tongue deliciously slotting against each other.

When you pulled away just enough to breathe, Mason caressed your chin, giving you that precious mouth closed smile and waiting for your next step.

“I love you” you murmured, tracing his lips with the pad of your fingers.

Mason pretended to bite your fingers, gently squeezing your waist. “I love you, princess”

The way he whispered the pet name instantly got you kissing him again, swallowing his giggle. When your hips unconsciously moved Mason audibly groaned, the sound making your cheeks feel warm.

You gasped at the feeling of his boner against your core. The friction was too good, and you found yourself eagering for it.

Grabbing Mason’s hair and gently pulling it, you started to grind on top of him. Your boyfriend wasn’t exactly expecting it, letting out a loud moan.

“Princess- Y/N, wait” he held your waist in place. “Not here, baby”

“Why not?” you pouted, feeling your cheeks hotter than ever and not being sure if he was denying you.

Mason smiled, stroking your jaw.

“We can fuck on the couch how many times do you want later, but first time is a special one yeah? I need you to be comfortable” he kissed your pout.

“Oh” you mumbled, now feeling a bit ashamed for trying to initiate it and getting caught. You were imagining this would be like in the movies and Mason wouldn’t even pay attention to the fact that it’s your first time. “I just-”

“I’ve been watching you slowly getting ready every week, you know?” he interrupted you. “Your kisses were getting sloppier and your hands started traveling my body more. And last week when you pulled my hair- God, baby. You make me so desperate for you and you have no idea. But I know how it feels to idealise a first time and how movies and books, especially those you read, can make you think the first time can be treated like any other time. It can’t. I won’t fuck you today”

“I got it the first time, Mase” you avoided his eyes, trying not to let the disappointment flood you.

Mason held your chin, making you look at him before kissing your cheek.

“We’ll make love instead, yeah?” he murmured, brushing his nose against your cheekbone and almost making you choke. “Gonna take my time, in my bed. If you still want it”

“I want you. I want you really bad” you admitted, your hand playing with his hair.

“So, can I take you to my bed now? I have a new blanket and I promise is really fluffy”

“I bet it is” you tucked your face in the crock of his neck, hugging his shoulders and waiting for him to sit, adjust your legs around him and get up.

Without rushing, Mason took you upstairs. He gently laid you down on his bed, and the sheets were indeed really fluffy.

Laying between your legs, he kissed you for long minutes, working to get you back in the right mood. After a while, he brushed your hair out of your face and looked you in the eyes before letting you help to undress him.

You stared at his body whilst your boyfriend got off of you to take off his shorts. You had seen Mason’s body a few times, during holidays at the beach and pool days, but nothing like this. Nothing near to the feeling of watching your man freeing his hard cock and then crawling back to you.

He stuck to his words that night. Mason took his time to undress you gently, looking at every part of you as if he was trying to memorise it. He built anticipation, kissing your skin and whispering sweet nothings to you before getting you ready for him.

And soon you realised he was right. It would’ve been really difficult to do it on the couch.

Even though you tried to relax and Mason kept reminding you of it, your body still felt the need to go stiff at every new intrusion of his fingers. Plus, it burned. A lot.

Giving you time to adjust and never rushing you, your boyfriend kept reassuring you every step of the way.

When the sensation of his fingers started to feel better and the only thing crossing your mind was him, Mason asked you once more if you still felt ready to let him have you like that.

Nodding, you waited for him to position himself.

“Relax, baby” Mason murmured in your ear. You tried to, taking a deep breath and letting go, but the intrusion of his tip was enough to make you bite a painful moan.

Inch by inch, he gave you minutes to adjust until you would tell him it was ok to move again. Being the sentimental you ever were, your eyes filled with a few tears and when one of them slid, he gently kissed.

When Mason finally penetrated you completely, he completely stopped moving, kissing your forehead and your eyelids, brushing his lips against your temple.

You knew he desperately wanted to move. You knew that that was the moment he would lose control with an experienced woman, but instead of being filled by envy and jealousy or even insecurity, your heart pounded with love at the way he was focusing on you.

If Mason wanted someone to simply fuck whilst enjoying himself, he could have it. But he was there, paying attention to your body and your needs, wanting to show you the good part of it.

“I think you can move” you told him, but he shook his head no.

“Not yet” he kissed your jaw and your neck, sinking into you a little bit more and sighing. “You feel so good. So cosy and warm” he said playfully, making you giggle. “What? I’m being serious”

“You feel good too” you tried to smile, but all you could do was focus on how it really hurts. You knew it would, but you were expecting a silly pain, something easily ignored.

“Don’t need to lie to me, I know it’s still hurting” he gently brushed his nose against your neck. “It will feel good soon, tho. I promise”

“Ok” you nodded, trying to relax your body. The burn sensation was starting to fade away, but it was still so weird having Mason inside of you.

Still not moving, he started to kiss your neck, slightly sucking on the spot beneath your ear before trailing kisses down your shoulder.

When he came back to kiss your lips, sliding his tongue inside your mouth and groaning, you felt a different kind of heat where your bodies met.

“Mase” you whined, starting to feel impatient.

“I know. Believe me, I know” he stared at you, his big brown eyes only making you feel more needy. “Be patient for me and I’ll make it worthy”

When you nodded, he kissed you again. It felt like kissing him for hours, his tongue slotting against yours, his hand cupping your face whilst he tried to kiss you deeper. When he pulled his body slightly away and his cock slid with no difficulties, you audibly gasped.

“See?” he kept kissing your face, whispering against your ear. “You were too nervous, baby. Thinking too much. Needed to make my girl wet again”

Now that he mentioned it, you could feel what his kisses have done to you. It was like adding oil to a bicycle chain, and the comparison made you chuckle.

Your giggles didn’t last long though, instantly turning into a moan when Mason made his first real move. He thought the sound of you moaning beneath him could actually make him pass out.

Instantly biting your lips, you felt a bit shy for making sounds already, so easily. The thought that you were inexperienced kept crossing your mind, and you didn’t want to act like it even though both of you knew the truth.

“Gonna hide the best part from me?” Mason pouted as soon as you bit your lips, slowly thrusting into you again and smiling when you rolled your eyes. “I wanna hear you. Make sure you’re feeling good”

“I am” you assured him.

“Then show me” Mason whispered, biting your jaw lovingly. “I don’t wanna be the only one screaming”

“Screaming?” you raised an eyebrow, trying to hold another moan when Mason moved again, slowly torturing you.

“You have no idea how you feel wrapped around me. It makes me wanna scream” he admitted, and his praise filled you with pride. “You feel like heaven” he looked you in the eyes, whispering against your lips. “I’m gonna prove it to you”

—

Since that day you’ve been needy for him 24/7. Just a glance at his arms or his tummy, a stare at his tongue darting out of his mouth, the groans he makes when training at home. Everything makes you wet.

He wasn't complaining, obviously. It was like a frenesi, and despite you still having your old activities like cooking together and watching movies curled up, the night would always end with him touching you.

Some nights he would make you cum on his fingers and not ask for anything in return, most of nights he would buried himself into you and make you both feel good, but on a few others… he would teach you different things.

Mason taught you how to touch him, and making him cum only with your hands made you feel so powerful. He also showed you how his mouth feels against you, how good he is with his tongue.

He was slowly helping you to build your confidence and discover what things you liked most, which positions you prefer. You felt so grateful for having someone that cared about you first, that waited for you and now was patient to let you learn step by step.

But as much as he was caring, Mason was cheeky.

That’s why it didn’t surprise you when after a dinner night together, cooking your favourite lasagna and watching Friends, he left to his bedroom and came back with a box.

“What’s that?” you frowned, slightly confused, but he only shrugged.

“A gift”

“Babe” you narrowed your eyes. “It’s not my birthday, it’s not Valentine’s Day, it’s not our anniversary”

Mason rolled his eyes, sitting in front of you and giving you the box.

“I like to buy you things. And this one is really good” he defended himself.

You carefully opened the box, quickly glancing at the inside.

“Mason! What’s that for?” you tried to hold your giggles, feeling your cheeks burning at the sight of a sex you. You couldn’t even get mad at him, seeing that he took the time to choose your favourite colour.

“For when I’m away” he smirked. “It won’t be as good as me but it’ll still be good”

“Babe” you laughed, your heart tightening. “I don’t even know how to use it”

“It’s easy to learn” he leaned down and pecked your lips. “I just thought that can use it alone and discover your body. But we can use it together as well”

You nodded, closing the box and putting it aside.

“Thank you. The colour is pretty” you smiled, but your cheeks were still warm, and Mason giggled before kissing them.

“Such a shy girl. You weren’t that shy screaming my name last night-”

“Mason!” you slapped his arm, rolling your eyes at his giggles.

Since he had training the day after, the pair of you went to bed early so he could rest, trying your best to just sleep. It wasn’t easy since your boyfriend is as needy as you, and soon he was stretching you in the best way possible, murmuring praises in your ear.

The pair of you slept right after, cuddling like you love to do.

A few days later, when you were back at home and feeling needy for him, you remembered what Mason got you for moments like these.

Going to your room and taking the box out of your closet, you stared at him whilst it stared back at you back.

Where’d you start? Your cheeks were warm and red just at the sight of it, and you thought of calling Mason for help before remembering he told you he’d go out with some boys from the England team.

You weren’t sure of what time he’d be coming back so you decided to text and see if it was home already.

You knew straight away that he was still at their meeting, but as soon as you dismissed him your phone started to ring, his contact’s name showing on the screen. You accepted the call and took a deep breath, trying to gather the courage.

“What’s wrong princess” his voice was sweet and your entire body got warm with how caring he is with you.

“Are you home?” you bit your lower lip, not wanting to put him in an embarrassing position.

“I asked what’s wrong” was his simple answer.

You took another deep breath. “I just… it’s so silly”

“And it’s just me. Nothing you’d say can be silly for me”

“Fine- I wanna use what you gave me, but I feel so shy every time I look at it. It’s just easier when you're touching me”

“Oh- ok” Mason gasped, looking around. You heard a few conversations around him and your cheeks got warmer.

“Sorry- I’ll just hang up and we can talk later, yeah? You’re not even at home” you murmured, but before you could hit the button he answered you.

“Are you undressed already?” he cut you, the way his voice got hoarse making you shiver. “I bet you’re not so take your shorts and panties off f’me, yeah? You can keep the shirt if it makes it easier”

“Mase…”

“Just do as I ask, baby” he told you. When you hummed to let him know you had obeyed him, he continued. “Now get under the sheets and spread your legs open f’me, love”

“Okay” you murmured, your face so hot you could swear you had a fever.

“Turn the toy on” he told you, and you did as he asked. “But don’t go directly for it. You can brush it against your thighs, like I do when I’m about to eat you out. Tease yourself, baby”

You followed his instructions, letting him know every step of yours. After a while of hearing you’re breath getting heavier, Mason kept guiding you.

“You can brush it over your pussy now, baby. It’s a different sensation so go slow, enjoy it, rub gentle circles on your lips”

He knew exactly when you obeyed by the profane sound you made, your moan giving him goosebumps.

“Mase-” you gasped, heating his entire body. Mason’s grin didn’t go unnoticed by his mates, but none of them approached him since he excused himself to call you.

“Be gentle, baby. Like my tongue would be” you could hear in his voice how much he was enjoying this himself. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s funny I guess, makes everything vibrates at the same time”

“Circle your clit now” he asked you, and hus own breath started to get heavier.

“Wow” you gasped surprisedly, making him chuckle.

“It feels good, doesn’t?”

“Mase” you whined, your head falling against the pillow.

“Fuck” Mason cursed, looking around to be sure he was still safe. “That’s it, baby. Just close your eyes and pretend I’m there”

The way you cried out made his head spin.

“I don’t want to pretend” you whispered, “I need you”

“I need you too, princess”

“I need you now” you whined, the pleasure mixed up with the frustration of not having him there.

“Do you?” he thought for a second, his feet walking before he actually made the decision. “If you keep being a good girl then you might have me. Turn it to level two, please”

“Mason-”

“Do it” he demanded, and you instantly moaned when you obeyed. Mason pulled his t-shirt down trying to cover his hard member when he got closer to his friends again. “I’ll answer you back in a second princess. Keep going”

“Mate” you could hear Foden in the background. “Can you take me to my hotel? I came with Jack but he’s nowhere to be found”

“No way” Mason giggled, and you could picture him already walking to the exit, not even saying goodbye to his friends.

“C’mon Mase, it’s two minutes away from here”

“Look Phil, I love you” Mason squeezed his shoulder. “But I love my girl more and she needs me really badly right now”

“You’re disgusting” Phil rolled his eyes, but chuckled.

Mason didn’t gave him time to continue, turning his back and leaving, impatiently waiting for them to bring his car.

“Are you still with me, princess?” he murmured, your little pants slowly making him go wild.

“Ye-ah. I’m back at teasing myself like you told me to do. My thighs and- my nipples” you whispered, making Mason groan proudly.

“Such a fucking good girl” he sighed. “So good for me, yeah? You’re so fucking good for me. Bring it to your clit again”

When his car parked in front of him, Mason thanked the valet parking and quickly got in, putting you on speaker and instantly starting to drive the fastest he could.

Mason groaned when you just moaned in response, trying to focus on the road. He silently thanked the universe that you decided to try the toy tonight, when he was at a meeting only ten minutes from your place.

He could do it in five.

“Slide it to your core, baby. Like I’d do with my fingers, can you do that f’me? Slowly penetrate yourself”

“You said about your kisses, your tongue and your fingers as a comparison” you giggled. “What about your dick?”

“Let’s be honest” Mason chuckled. “No toy can stretch you like my cock. That’s why I’m coming to give it to you. Now do as I asked, yeah?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it and pressed the toy against your core, giving Mason a loud moan whilst gently inserting it.

“Jesus, you’ll make me cum” he groaned, gripping the wheel with both hands. “Fuck yourself with it, princess. Find the pace, do it slowly”

“The way it vibrates-” you cried out, feeling overstimulated. “I’m- oh my God”

A shiver went down Mason’s spine when you finally reached your high, the loud and high pitch moan sounding inside his car, the way you whined his name after almost making him cum on the spot.

“Don’t turn it off, baby. Guide yourself through your orgasm like I’d do” he instructed you whilst turning the engine off and jumping out of his car, practically running to your front door.

He was glad you were now on the step of having each other's key — he would hate to make you leave your bed to open the door for him.

When Mason got to your bedroom door, he made no sound. Instead, he turned the call off and watched you for a few minutes.

The messy hair, the soft moans, the way your cheeks and forehead were red. The way you were moving gently beneath the sheets.

“Mase?” you murmured, still feeling a bit dizzy from your orgasm.

“I’m here, princess”

“I need you” you cried out, and Mason were quick to enter the room. He was done watching.

Slowly walking towards your bed, he gave you a cheeky smile.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. So pretty, tucked in bed and playing with yourself” Mason murmured, smirking at your red cheeks. Once he got at the edge of the bed, your boyfriend took off his t-shirt, letting you admire his tummy muscles before taking out his trousers and crawling to you only in his boxers. “My innocent baby. Have I ruined you?”

“I think so” you shrugged, smiling when his nose brushed against yours.

“I can’t wait to ruin you more” he whispered, nose now brushing against your cheeks before you get the kiss you’ve been wanting for days. “Did you have fun? Did you cum?”

“Yeah” you nodded, pecking his lips.

“Good. This way you’ll get to know what you like”

“I like how you do it” you told him shyly.

“I can tell” Mason giggled, getting himself beneath the sheets. “But there’s more to know about it”

“Will you teach me, right?”

“Of course I will, bubba. Now c’mere” he tapped his chest, and you were quick to obey, happiness spreading across your body just from being tangled with him.

With half your body on top of him, you shared a slow kiss, savouring each other.

“Babe” you whined when his other hand cupped your chest underneath the shirt you were wearing, gently pinching your nipples.

“I’m proud of you, yeah? Look how far you’ve gone since we met. I want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with liking sex and enjoying yourself” he told you, squeezing you against him.

“Thank you” you kissed his cheek. “For being so patient with me, even though you’re not exactly a patient guy”

“Oh” Mason giggled. “I’m a patient guy with you”

“I love you” you stared at him, rubbing gentle circles on his bare chest and smiling when he stared at you back.

“I love you more” he kissed your forehead, sighing when your hand started to travel down.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you touched Mason under his boxer, delicately the way he taught you, just to spread the precum over his length. Brushing your thumb over his tip, you smiled when he let out a shaky moan.

“Feels good?” you asked him, and the genuine tone of your voice made him groan.

“Feels better every time” he murmured, capturing your lips on his.

You didn’t even raise your body nor get on your knees. You were both so hazy that you were only capable of pulling down his underwear, waiting for him to take it off with his legs, and bringing the other half of your body on top of Mason’s and let him guide himself into you lazily, your face on his neck and your chest pressed against his.

Mason’s low moan when he penetrated you made your whole body shiver and you kissed his collarbone, staying still for a while and getting used to your boyfriend’s length.

“Gonna turn us around, yeah?” he whispered after a few minutes, squeezing your waist when you nodded.

With your back now against the bed, Mason hovered over you, kissing every part of you he could reach whilst giving you more minutes to adjust. Your jaw, your shoulders, your clavicle.

You know Mason likes intense sex, even rough sometimes, especially when he’s angry. You’ve talked about it, and you told him you wanna try it in the future, and despite him nodding and agreeing, he likes to be soft with you. To have slow and intimate sex.

And you love how he’s able to be gentle and yet firm with his hips, showing you how much he enjoys the moment by wanting it to last forever.

Your boyfriend slowly thrusted into you, his movement scratching every inch of your brain, the feeling of being filled by him making your head go dizzy. With his elbow next to your face whilst his hand ran through your hair, you turned your head to the side and gently bit his biceps.

“Are you good, princess?” he checked, your actions turning him even more.

“Faster” was the only thing you were able to say, scratching the back of his neck.

“Do you want me to go faster?” he repeated, chuckling when you nodded. “Where’s my shy baby?”

“Mase” you pouted, and he kissed your lips before increasing the pace.

You grabbed every part of his body you could reach, sometimes even scratching his shoulders and back from how hard you were gripping on him.

When you came, squeezing him the way you’ve learned it makes him cum with you, Mason had no choice then to follow you, guiding you both through your highs.

After a minute or two, still panting and groaning, he gently pulled his member out of you, admiring his work.

“Can I?” he murmured with pleading eyes, his lips instantly turning into a pout and you knew exactly what he wanted.

“Yeah, baby” you nodded, smiling when his eyes twinkled.

Gently, Mason used two fingers to insert his cum inside you again, smiling when he got to watch it dripping out of you one more time.

“What do you like so much about it?” you giggled, running your fingers through his hair.

“It’s me, all over you. It means you’re mine” he leaned down and pecked your lips. “And the simply thought that I own you makes me hard again”

“I think you should show me just how much you own me” you smirked at him, feeling giddy when his eyes widened playfully.

“Not so innocent, are you?”

“At least not when you’re naked over me” you shrugged, making him laugh before laying down and bringing you closer.

“So I definitely ruined you”

“I’ll always be your innocent girl, tho” you smiled at him, head finding a home on his neck right after.

“My innocent girl, just a little bit dirtier” he snuggled closer to you, his fingers gently brushing against your lower back.

[legendary-pink-dot]

Please, Mr Postman

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected PiV sex, butt play, creampie, oral (f receiving), and lots of sex toys. No ages mentioned or alluded to. Reader is married. There are themes of infidelity, blackmail and stalking, but Reader is fully consenting and willing. Mailman Joel is a sleaze, consider youself duly warned.

Word Count: 4.3K (by far the longest thing I've ever written, whew)

Summary: Every morning at 9am sharp, you take your coffee to the front room and listen for his mail truck.

Notes: Poking my nose out of my hiatus hidey-hole to write this as a gift for my very very dear friend @magpiepills for the prompt "Stole your mail and uses it to sexually blackmail you mailman Joel". I love you, my sweet Bat. 💜 Giant thanks to @for-a-longlongtime for the last-minute rapid beta read. Much love to my sluts for cheerleading: @youandmeand5bucks @exquisiteserotonin @arcanefox207 @sparklefarts38 @redhotkitchen I have never written Joel before, so please be kind. Thank you and enjoy.

Please, Mr Postman - Joel Miller x f!reader

Every morning at 9am sharp, you take your coffee to the front room and listen for his mail truck. The squeak of the rusted brake pads as he parks at the end of the block is a melody, as distinctive to you now as the chimes of the classic ice cream trucks from your childhood, eliciting a Pavlovian response of salivating over the treats it held within.

Life was easy and carefree at that age. You didn't have responsibilities, grown-up worries, or this present burden of being a Stepford wife to a rich man who occasionally did some illegal activities. He was kind to you and you loved him, desired him even, but despite being a criminal he was boring. He was not the adventurous, filthy man in bed you secretly hoped for. But you knew things about his work that made it dangerous to leave, and financially he made sure you were kept comfortable enough to not want to tell. So you stayed. And here you were, marooned in a leafy suburb, stuck at home all day and fantasizing about the hot new mailman. What a cliche you've become.

The mailman's name was Joel. And he really did command attention.

Salt and pepper hair that curled around the edge of his blue cap. Dark brown eyes that showed a few flecks of amber the rare times you've seen them up close. A strong nose with a neatly trimmed mustache and gorgeous facial scruff. Large hands that could football-hold an entire package in each.

And speaking of packages: his looked prodigious. It looked obscene what he was carrying around in those standard issue United States Postal Service shorts. You dreamed about it at night -- how thick his cock must be and how you'd lick it like those sweet summer popsicle treats -- as your husband snored beside you after giving you one pitiful orgasm and then immediately coming himself and falling asleep.

You never thought anyone could be attractive in such a dumpy grey uniform, but somehow Joel found a way.

In the summer heat he always rolled up the edges of his pleated shorts, a thick pocket chain clacking along his meaty thigh. Light hair dusted his tanned legs. His black leather belt was cinched tight, further emphasizing his delicious bulge. The sleeves of his polo shirt were similarly rolled and showed off well-toned forearms from all the lifting and carrying. In short: he was a dream.

But you'd never go further than look. You loved your husband, for all his faults. You'd even placed a big order of sex toys last week in the hopes he'd be willing to spice things up in the bedroom. The tracking app says it's out for delivery, and right on cue, Joel comes walking up your driveway cradling a large cardboard box in his hands. Damn, he looks good today.

"Mornin', ma'am," he drawls politely. You think he winks at you, or maybe it's just the sun hitting his eyes. "Got a big one for you today."

You move to take it, but he shakes his head. "It's heavy. Let me put it inside for ya."

The thought of him being inside your home makes you tingle. You don't even think to consider that postal workers aren't supposed to go past a customer's front step.

You hold the door open and Joel stomps through, leaving bootprints of dirt on your "Home Sweet Home" welcome mat.

"Ma'am? Where d'ya want it?" He sounds amused, and you realize with a start that he's been standing in your entranceway for an awkward length of time. You'd been too busy ogling his legs, and more, in those rolled-up shorts. Was it your imagination, or was he not wearing underwear?

"On the coffee table, please." You lead him to the sitting room beside the entranceway. It's your happy place, your sanctuary, the spot you have your morning coffee in as you listen for the siren song of his mail truck.

Joel gently places the box on the coffee table and turns to you.

"I'll just wait here while you check that everythin's in order."

"What… what do you mean?" You feel your cheeks heat. Fortunately the box was nondescript, but it did give off a brown paper wrapping porn vibe.

"It's insured for $700. Must be some expensive stuff. 'S my job to write a report if anything's broken."

Nervous sweat starts beading down your back. "It… it's okay… I can report online if there's a problem…"

"'S no trouble. Let's just take a quick peek." Joel's already pulled his keychain ceramic boxknife out of his shorts, slitting the box open before you can say a word.

You stand there mortified and unable to speak as Joel opens the flaps, pushes aside the cushioning packets, and stares at the huge assortment of boxed sex toys.

"Well, well, darlin'. What do we have here?" His voice is a mixture of amusement and something deep and growling. Predatory.

Your face burns in embarrassment. "You… you can go now," you manage to squeak. "Please."

"Don't think so, sweetheart. Gotta check that everythin's in good working order." His boxknife shicks open the first product, a G-spot vibe from the looks of the box. Just before he can unwrap it, you find your voice. You hope you sound self-assured and assertive.

"That's enough. Please leave. My husband will be home any minute."

Joel smirks as he continues to rifle through the box. "Naw. He won't. Just did my route on Pine Street and saw him gettin' busy with that blonde divorcee in the cul-de-sac. Miz Perkins, wasn't it? Big tits."

It's a gut punch, and it makes you forget that this suddenly skeezy mailman is in your home and looking at your new collection of sex toys. An affair? He wouldn't. Not YOUR husband. Not your husband who rarely wants to do anything interesting in bed…

"Sorry, darlin." Joel pulls you out of your thoughts. "Fuck that guy. Wanna have some fun?" He pulls the vibe out of the box and waves it in front of you with a lopsided smirk.

This is too much to deal with. Your head is spinning, a mixture of emotions running through you. Including lust, incredibly enough. This mailman appears to be the take-charge dominant you wish your husband was.

"No. Like I said, you can leave now." You manage to say it firmer this time despite the gushing between your thighs. "Just go."

"Think I'll stay," he says, crossing the space between you in one step and pushing you backwards onto the sofa. "Don't want me reporting your ol' man to the authorities, now do ya?"

"Wha… what?"

He chuckles at your comically large-eyed look of shock. "Yeah, know all about it. Been readin' yer mail," he says matter-of-factly. "He's shit at covering his tracks. Who sends fake invoices through the mail? With his real address too. Amazin' he hasn't been caught yet."

"You've been reading our mail?! I should report you!" Who is this guy?

Joel looms menacingly over your prone figure. You didn't dare move. "Sure, darlin. Postal employees got a responsibility to report crime. I'll be fine," he smiles, leaning back a little, but not enough for you to escape. "But the Postmaster General don't take too kindly to mail fraud, or those aidin' and abettin'. That's a felony."

"But it's not a felony for a mailman to read people's mail?"

"Tell you what," he drawls, still in that matter-of-fact tone that should be so very wrong in this situation. He rifles through the box and pulls out a hot pink butt plug, wiggling it at you. "You're gonna let me try out some of these toys on ya, and I won't report him."

Blackmail shouldn't turn you on, shouldn't turn anyone on, but it does. You're only human, and besides, you definitely don't want to go to prison. You can't control your reaction as your upper half shrinks back into the sofa while your lower half stretches out towards Joel, the hem of your sundress hiking up like it has a mind of its own. He gives you a wolfish grin and rests a broad, heavy hand on your knee.

"Jus' what I thought, sweetheart. Seen you watchin' me out the window every mornin'. You been wantin' me to stuff your pretty little mailslot, haven't ya?"

A whimper escapes your throat. "Yes. Please," you whisper, thighs sticky between your panties and suddenly aching.

"Okay, honey. Gonna start easy with this lil' thing." He holds up a clit sucker, shaped like a penguin with a little pink bow around its neck, and switches it on to test it. It springs into life immediately. "Ah, great. Love how companies pre-charge things now-a-days."

How can he be so conversational about this? Does he blackmail all the married women in the neighbourhood? Well, maybe just the ones who have something to hide. Like you. You silently thank the heavens for sending you an attractive skeeze, at least. And Joel is so very, very attractive.

You spread your legs for him.

He ruches your sundress up your thighs and whistles appreciatively, the sound going straight to your core. "No panties? And gushin' out of that tight little snatch already? Didn't take ya for such a filthy girl."

"It's… it's hot out," you stammer, unable to think straight.

"About to get hotter," he smirks again, and damn that attitude is doing things for you. "You ready, sweetheart?"

You nod, and he keeps eye contact as he nestles your clit into the little penguin's mouth and switches it on.

Your back arches and you nearly scream out loud.

The sensation is warm, and there's no direct contact but it's like your clit is being gently suckled. You've never felt anything like it. It's only been three seconds and your hips are already squirming to chase more.

His hand presses lightly on your hip to give you something to brace against as he clicks the intensity button up a couple notches, and it's like waves upon waves of the absolute perfect pressure on your clit. The buildup in your core is so fast that you don't even realize you're coming until it's almost over. You also hadn't noticed that you'd grabbed his muscled forearm and sunk your nails into it, leaving little half-moon indentations in his tanned skin.

"That was… wow." Your gasps echo around the quiet sitting room. Joel doesn't say a word, just reverently watches your pussy pulse and gush out a few drops of slick. "Thanks." You wish it had lasted longer and were sad it was over. Oh well, a nice memory for the next time you think about Joel, or try out some of these toys with your husband.

You start to push your sundress down, assuming he'll leave now and half-grateful for it, but he grabs your shoulder and forces you back down into the pillows.

"Where you off to? I'm just gettin' started with you, darlin'."

"But…."

"But nothin'. Ain't done till I say so."

All you can do is stare at him, unsure if you should be angry, turned on, or plotting an escape.

He undoes his leather belt and slowly, threateningly, slides it out through the loops on his uniform shorts. "Don't make me use this, sweetheart. Gonna be a good girl for me now, ain't ya?" The depth and tone of his voice say he isn't joking.

You gulp, still tingly from your rapid orgasm. And ready for another one, you think as you make eye contact with Joel, feeling a bit bolder now. We're here, I let him do that much already, might as well go for it.…

The penguin gets discarded as Joel carelessly tosses it to the carpet and takes the hot pink butt plug out of the box again, running a finger along the curve of its long but slim length. "Hmmm. Pretty. This for you, or your husband?"

"Uh… me…"

"Ah, ah" he tuts. "You really are a nasty girl. You take one of these before?"

You shake your head, suddenly shy. You hadn't even wanted your husband to know about the butt plug, thinking he was so sexless that he'd be disgusted. Apparently not, if he's railing Ms Perkins with the big tits over on Pine Street.

"S'okay. Gonna slide it in real good for ya." While you shove a little sofa pillow under your hips, Joel combs through the box on the coffee table and pulls out a bottle of lube. He pops the cap and drizzles some over the plug, and you gulp again imagining it inside your ass. A faint scent of synthetic vanilla fills the air and for some reason it calms you, allowing you to relax your muscles as Joel slides the plug along your crack, rubbing and smearing the lube around your asshole.

"You like that?"

You do. You really do.

Your little moan spurs him on and he gently presses the generously lubed tip of the plug against your hole, just the teensiest bit. You look up at his face, that stupidly attractive face of a skeezy mailman who is sexually blackmailing you, and find yourself desperately wanting to feel his scruff on your inner thighs.

Apparently he's a mind reader, too. He smiles and lowers his head to your crotch, and licks your clit with his wide tongue at the same moment he presses a bit more of the plug into your ass. You nearly scream for the second time in minutes.

"That's it, honey," he breathes against your core, wiggling the tip of the plug in and out and hitting nerves you didn't even know existed back there, making your hips jump involuntarily. "Openin' up so nice for me."

A few more mind-numbing, distracting licks of your clit and the plug slides all the way in with a little pop. You're equal parts turned on and proud.

"Well, ain't that a pretty sight," Joel whistles appreciatively. He pulls up to sit back and just stares at you all spread out on the sofa with one leg hiked over the back, your sundress balled up over your stomach. He taps the pink flared base of the plug a few times like he's idly flicking away a cigarette. It wiggles inside you and you squirm and squeal. Actually squeal. You're still mad and weirded out and other things, but you're feeling too good to give up now and you're starting to not care how easily you're caving to this man.

"Lessee what other treats we got in here." He rifles through the box again. His face falls into a comical droop of sadness and he sighs loudly, holding up a little box marked 'Girth Extender Sleeve'.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry." The condescension in his voice shouldn't turn you on this much. "Yer old man got a tiny dick? Not fuckin' you proper? No wonder you been starin' at me every day, desperate for a real man."

Before you can protest -- he's not tiny, I just wanted to spice things up, well okay maybe he could use a bit of help -- he unzips his uniform shorts and pulls out his hard cock, holding it at the base so you can take a good look. "Got a special delivery for ya, baby."

Yeah, Joel definitely doesn't need any artificial enhancement.

His cock is thick. Not super long, but probably one of the thickest you've seen, outside the few porn films you watched when you were younger and more uninhibited. There's foreskin covering what looks like a large mushroom head, and a prominent pulsing vein running up one side. It all looks delicious, and you unconsciously lick your lips as he smirks at how you take it all in.

"You want it real bad, dontcha?" He fists himself a few times, his foreskin sliding on the downstroke to give you a peek at the thick head. "Yeah, you sure do. Never knew I had such a little slut livin' on my route."

Shuffling forward, he grabs your thighs and spreads them wider. The head of his cock feels impossibly heavy as he slaps it on your clit, making you gush a little with every hit.

"Joel, will you… can you lick me again for a bit?" Your squeaky voice is impossibly needy and pathetic.

"Naw," he says, flicking the base of the butt plug again and making your hips jump. The plug was so comfortable that you'd already forgotten it was in there. "Gotta finish my route. Can't talk to customers with my face smellin' of pussy, ya know. I'm representin' the United States Postal Service out there."

"Oh, does the USPS regularly fuck its customers too?"

"Sure does, darlin'. Bends 'em over and gives it to 'em hard with the price hikes every year."

He roughly pulls you up and bends you over the sofa arm, positioning you like the personal little fuckdoll you are for him.

"Got the next best thing though." He slips on a tiny purple fingertip vibe, your free gift from the toy company for such a large order. With such thick fingers, it looks like he's wearing an upside-down Ring Pop. It gives a loud rumble when he switches it on, and he laughs as he tugs his shorts down over his thighs. "Cheap ass shit. Hope the battery lasts. But it don't take you long anyway, right sweetheart?" He reaches around your hips, lifts your sundress and presses the vibe straight on your bare clit without any preamble, and your hips slam backwards into his crotch as you scream again, his cock jostling the base of the butt plug and sending shockwaves both up and down your core at the same time.

"Yeah. Thought so."

Amid the mixed sensations suddenly comes a new one: the thick head of his cock slipping into your cunt as he swirls the vibe around your clit, not letting it rest in any one spot long enough for your liking.

"… Wait! No condom?"

"Naw. You're on the pill, right?" He doesn't wait for your answer, as if he already knows.

Normally you don't enjoy this position but you're too far gone now, pushing your hips back and encouraging him deeper in, more than wet enough from all the playing to take him in.

"Greedy little slut, ain't ya?" He feeds you another inch, pauses, then another, torturously slow as you stretch around his thickness. "Tight little snatch feels so good. Miz Perkins with the big tits probably don't feel this sweet." Joel demeaning your husband like this and throwing the adultery in your face should make you mad -- at both of them -- but it only turns you on more, beads of sweat dripping down your spine as he slides all the way in to the hilt, giving you a few moments of grace to adjust to the size of him.

One strap falls down your shoulder, letting your tit pop out of your sundress and he palms it roughly, giving it an exploratory squeeze. The finger vibe is still buzzing and he swipes it across your nipple, the nubby texture chafing just before the point of pain. "Nice. You like that? Let's add somethin'."

Mentholated 'arousal balm' was another of your free gifts, and not something you'd ever thought to try. Joel twists open the little tin and dips the finger vibe in it.

"That smells strong, do we have to?" Wooziness hits you as the peppermint smell goes straight up your nostrils.

"Like I said, baby, gotta make sure everythin' works. Else I gotta do a return," chides Joel, tossing the tiny tin on the floor. You watch it roll under the baseboard heater as he grabs your hips roughly and repositions you. "Real fucking pain, returns. Lotsa paperwork."

He brings the now-mentholated finger vibe back to your clit, and two seconds later it feels like your entire pussy is on fire.

Thank goodness he didn't put any on my a--

Joel moves the base of the butt plug aside and presses the finger vibe against your asshole.

The menthol soaks into your tender membranes and it's so, so cold and hot at the same time. Your brain melts along with it.

Everything is lit up now and you squirm as he slides his hardness back into your pussy and gives a few experimental thrusts. "Tight fuckin' snatch," he mutters, your walls clenching around him in time with his finger flicking at the plug, your entire lower half burning but not in a terrible way. "But could be tighter." He suddenly pulls his cock out and you whine, loudly and needily.

"Please, Joel."

"Please what, darlin'?"

"Put… put it back in? Please."

"All in good time. Gotta give those walls an extra little stamp."

You look over your shoulder to see him drizzling lube into the girth sleeve and slipping it onto his cock. He's already so thick that it's a tight fit, the soft tube slipping off a couple times before he finally stretches it enough so it can slide all the way on, pulling it down so his large head pokes out of the top. You clench involuntarily.

"Umm. That's not gonna fit."

"Sure it will, honey," he drawls. "Didn't think you could take that pretty little pink plug, right? And look at ya now."

He's got a point.

"Gonna stuff that little slot full to the brim and turn ya into a size queen. Open wide, baby."

He's merciless as he slides back inside, at a curved angle since you're turned slightly to brace both your hands against the back of the sofa. The extender is smooth and feels just like his skin, and you're powerless to resist the incredible feeling of the extra width. He was exactly right: you felt full. With the thick pressure in your cunt pushing against the plug in your ass, you felt more stuffed than you ever had in your life, and what's more your pussy is still burning from the menthol balm. It was overwhelming but also glorious. In that second you knew it would be impossible not to think of Joel next time your husband fucked you, even if he wore this toy. Stupid sexy blackmailing mailman.

Baby animals had more stability in their legs than you do right now, your thighs spasming uncontrollably as Joel palms the vibe around your clit while holding almost half your waist in the span of his other large paw. He fucks into you hard from behind until you're so close to coming you can taste it. With the extender, his cock is hitting spots inside you that you didn't even know you had. A heavy chain pops out of the neck of his polo shirt and hits your nape with a loud clank as he slams into you from behind, the cheap poly-rayon blend of his polo shirt chafing your shoulders in a delicious burn as his chest presses close against your back and his hips smack against your ass, jostling the butt plug with every thrust.

whirrrrrr goes the finger vibe as the tiny cheap battery dies, and he slaps your clit hard with the vibe one, two, three times and you come, yelling for the nth time since he left his bootprints on your welcome mat that morning. His grunts are loud and lewd as he fucks you through it, easing up only to make his thrusts shallower so he can reach a hand between you and gently pull out the butt plug with a little 'pop'. He tosses it and the finger vibe onto your pristine off-white carpet, not even bothering to aim for the opened box on the coffee table.

"So fuckin' tight," he wheezes hoarsely, "I gotta extra big load for ya," and he presses his hips so hard against your ass that you almost fall over the sofa arm, his voice faltering as he groans and you feel hot spurts of his come coating the inside of your pussy, as deep as he can put it.

You slump forward onto the sofa and he pulls out, both of you heaving. The fiery balm has mellowed to a gentle tingle and your core is pleasantly warm. Stretched out. Fucked out.

"Welp, gotta get back to my route." It's been only a minute and his matter-of-fact conversational tone has already returned. You peer over your shoulder and watch him pull his shorts back on, rolling up the hems and slicking his belt back into the loops, tucking his polo shirt back in with practiced efficiency.

"Will I see you again?" You hate how pathetic you sound, and you must be a real sight too, half naked with a sweaty rolled-up sundress stuck to your back, your ass still up in the air like you're waiting for him to stick it right back in and rail you again immediately.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be seein' each other again real soon," he says smoothly.

As you stand up, knees a little weak, a drop of cum drips down your thighs. "Glad I'm on the pill," you mutter to yourself as you pat down your wrinkled sundress and pause at the mess of packaging and boxes littering your sitting room.

"About that, darlin'." Joel smiles, pausing by your front door. "Miz Perkins over on Pine Street orders sugar pills and well, you know, packages get mixed up sometimes on the route. Might wanna check you got the right pills."

Joel slams the door and the mail slot squeaks rhythmically as you stand there, horrified, listening to him whistle a jaunty tune as he walks down your driveway and back to his mail route.

[bigification]

Gamer Dad

"Man, my hair looked so good yesterday." Aaron uploaded the picture to his dating profile. "That just about does it." He said as he typed out the last bit of his bio. "I want to be the type of dad that plays video games with his kids." He clicked 'done' and closed his phone.

Aaron made his way to his bathroom to take a shower. On his short trek to the bathroom, he couldn't help but think about what he wrote down. He was nearly 30 and desperately wanted kids, but he kinda needed a partner before he was going to do that. All he could think about was being a 'cool dad'.

He opened the door and entered his bathroom. He threw off his shirt and turned to the mirror.

He looked confused for a moment as he rubbed his hand through his short hair. "I could have sworn it was longer than this?" He then questioned how his beard seemed busier than it was before, he didn't even think he could grow this kind of beard. The thoughts didn't last long though, he remembered this was always what he looked like. He suddenly remembered he was able to grow a beard like that since high school, and his workout routine from playing football gave him the muscly frame he has now even in his early thirties.

He jumped into the shower, letting the hot water coat his hairy body. He rubbed shampoo into his short hair and scrubbed his thick muscles with body wash. He rinsed off and got out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his thick waist and... Wait thick waist? Aaron looked in the mirror to see a solid beer belly spilling over his towel.

He was shocked for a moment, he was trying to think of his days in football and his workout routine. But then he remembered that was before he got married. Since then, his husband has been more than happy to cook him fancy meals, which definitely takes a toll. He looked up and saw his balding head. "Well that's just what happens when you get to your late thirties," he reasoned. "At least I got my beard," he said as he rubbed his hands through his thick facial hair.

Aaron tried to put his shorts back on, but they didn't get past his thighs. He let out a deep sigh, this isn't the first time this has happened recently. He made his way to his room to try and find some clothes that fit. He tried on shirt after shirt and multiple pairs of shorts with no success. All the shirts either can't get past his gut or his biceps can't fit through his sleeves. "Damn I didn't think it was that bad." Aaron walked in front of the mirror in his room.

"You've really let yourself go huh?" He scolded himself. "Well I guess it's normal to keep on some weight after being pregnant, I just didn't think it was this bad." He stared at his body intently. "At least you got these guns, not many guys in their forties can say that." He flexed.

After rummaging through his closet, he managed to find some large gym shorts from a few Christmases ago. His husband accidentally bought him a size too big and he kept it for some reason, well it's coming in handy now.

He hobbled his massive body over to his living room and plopped himself down onto his couch. He put his headphones on, feeling the cold padding on his balding head. He leaned back, feeling his gut spill onto his lap. He smiled as he felt his baby kick.

*Click*

The front door opened. "I'm home!" Yusuf yelled. Aaron ran to the kitchen as soon as he heard. He turned the corner and caught his husband undressing.

"Did you pick up the cookies I like?" Aaron asked excitedly.

"Yes" Yusuf replied with a chuckle, "I remembered you liked them when you were pregnant with Jeremy, so I figured you'd want them now."

"I love you so much!" Aaron said as he stuffed a cookie down his mouth.

"You know, you eat like you did with Jeremy, you're gonna gain a bunch of weight again." He said as he leaned in and placed a hand on Aaron's stomach.

"Not my fault you got me pregnant again." Aaron defended.

"Not my fault you're a bottom!" Yusuf retorted.

"Oh you wanna play dirty, huh?" Aaron scoffed.

"I love to play dirty. By the way it's your turn to pick up Jeremy from school." Yusuf said as he continued to get undressed.

"What?"

"Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're excused from every chore." He said sarcastically, "besides you're the one who always wants to talk to him about video games."

Aaron sighed in response.

"I bet we have enough time before you have to leave."

Aaron smiled as he followed his husband to their bedroom.

[wileys-russo]

not sure if you’d like this idea but i keep seeing this trend of coloring in your partners tattoos and imagine a blurb where reader is doing this with alexia or mapi <33

feels so weird to write mapi or ingrid without the other tbh colouring book II m.león 

"hola amor!" you called out as you returned home from work, utterly exhausted as you swung the door closed behind you, frowning as your girlfriend was nowhere to be seen.

"maría?" you sung out, dropping your bag on the counter and wandering around the flat, popping your head in and out of each room. finally, as you entered your bedroom you breathed a sigh of relief.

your girlfriends back was faced toward you sat outside in the late afternoon sun on the balcony of your bedroom, clearly focused on something as you made your way over.

opening the doors you quickly realised why she hadn't heard you, between the gentle buzz of her tattoo gun and the music playing from her phone you clearly caught the older girl off guard as she looked up in surprise.

"more?" you shook your head with a smile, the girl tattooing what looked like a sword on her ankle. "i told you bebita, they are addictive!" the spaniard grinned, flicking off the gun and wiping down the fresh ink with a sanitary pad.

"like it? my lines are getting very good." mapi beamed flashing her new tattoo toward you as you hummed taking a seat, kicking your feet up and sighing contentedly.

"you know...i can still give you one." you felt her hand on your leg as you cracked one eye open and smiled in amusement. "and you know, when hell freezes over." you teased as she pinched your leg lightly with a hum.

packing away the gun and wrapping up her tattoo carefully the girl pulled off her gloves and dissapeared inside for a moment to put everything away. "how was work?" mapi returned, bending down to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

"good, tiring, long, very glad its the weekend." you grinned up at her, accepting her outstretched hand as she guided you up and out of your seat. "come hermosa, rest with me." your girlfriend pulled you down onto the bed with her, pulling your back into her front as she held you tightly.

the two of you spoke about your days, wrapped up together in the warm rays of the dying soon, golden hour both your favourite times of day.

your girlfriend settling a little more, the sweet words whispered in your ear and the gentle kisses placed to the back of your shoulder blades did very little to lull you to sleep, though that seemed no issue for the tattooed footballer behind you.

glancing over your shoulder you smiled seeing she was asleep, chest rising and falling as you carefully wiggled out of her hold and placed a kiss to her forehead. your combined body heats a little much you shuffled to lay beside her, mapi stirring and rolling onto her stomach but otherwise remaining out cold.

cheekily answering a few work emails you found yourself doom scrolling social medias, one video in particular peaking your interest. pocketing your phone you quietly made your way out of the bedroom, hunting around the house for what you were after.

returning to the bedroom your girlfriend grunted tiredly as you sat on the back of her legs. "qué?" the defender mumbled. "can i color in your tattos mi amor?" you asked, bending down so your head laid next to hers.

"why?" her body vibrated with a small chuckle as she blinked sleepily. "why not?" you questioned back as the older girl hummed, nodding and shutting her eyes again as you kissed her cheek.

her body tensed a little as you pushed her shirt up, finger tracing the multitude of designs inked along the soft tanned skin. assisted by the pencil case you kept handy for when your niece visited you grabbed out a handful of markers and shifted a little so you were comfortable.

your girlfriend relaxed and drifted back to sleep, finding the gentle scratchings of the markers against her back oddly soothing as you frowned in concentration. finishing the lion in the middle of her back you moved onto the smaller more intricate designs on her shoulder blades, taking your time to ensure you kept it neat.

you felt a little childish at how much you were enjoying this, admittedly only coloring when your niece was over and that was only ever to placate her after a tantrum. but you couldn't deny that this was helping the melt away the stress which lingered within your body from a long week of meetings and deadlines and overdue reports.

unknown to you your girlfriend was now awake, laying down quietly and making sure not to move too much, glancing up with a soft smile seeing the way your tongue poked out of the corner of your mouth in concentration.

"bon dia hermosa." you caught her eye giving her a smile of your own, capping your marker and tucking it back away. "i think it is a little late for a bon dia princesa." the defender grinned, grabbing your hands and gently tugging you back down onto the bed beside her.

"did you have a nice time coloring?" she mocked playfully, kissing your nose as you rolled your eyes. "you're like a human coloring book amor, can you blame me?" you leaned in to give her a proper kiss, a lazy makeout session quick to follow.

you sighed happily at the way her hands rested on the small of your back pulling your body closer into hers, angling your head a little more to the side as your tongues clashed and you tangled your hands in her hair.

your eyes fluttered closed as her lips detached from yours and found their home on your neck, the defender moving to grab your hips as she sucked a bright red mark just below your jaw. pulling away she peppered gentle kisses across it to soothe the sting and her teeth tugged playfully at your ear lobe.

"you know mi amor if you let me give you a tattoo you could become your own colouring book."

[thebirdandthebee]

Back to Sleep (18+)

A little something to try to get back into writing - let me know what you think! 18+ only! This is not edited, so please excuse any glaring issues.

Title: Back to Sleep Ain't sorry that I woke ya. WC: 1839

“Baby, you almost done?” Jake asked from the kitchen, where he’s just finished loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. “Come on, let’s be couch potatoes,” he insists.

It’s tempting, it really is, but you’ve got so much work to get done to stay ahead of schedule. Perched at the dining room table, your hair was tossed up in a ponytail as you focused on the laptop ahead. Yes, you were first in your class in your occupational therapy program, but final exams were coming and you were gunning for the number-one spot.

“You go ahead and I’ll meet you,” you said, tipping your head back for your fiancé to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“You’ve been studying like a maniac for weeks,” Jake pointed out, one hand gripping the back of your chair and the other braced on the corner of the dining table, “one night isn’t going to break your streak – exam isn’t for a few weeks, still.”

“I know, I promise, give me thirty minutes,” you insisted, looking up at him through your blue light glasses that you knew he loved.

“Thirty minutes,” he repeated, kissing you again.

But thirty minutes came and went, and you were still staring intently at your computer. Admittedly, Jake got swept up in Thursday Night Football, and at halftime, he shook out of it.

“Excuse me,” he called from over the back of the couch, “Where is my fiancé?” He asked. You peeled your eyes off of your study cards, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Twenty more minutes!” You called back, tucking your hair behind your ear. But as twenty minutes passed once again, you found Jake dragging your chair back from the table. “Jake, please, I’m on a roll,” you whined. You barely had time to grab up your notecards before Jake lifted you from the chair to bring you over to the sofa.

“You can study from the couch if you must,” he said, only somewhat dramatically.

And that’s how the evening progressed, with you flipping through notes and Jake’s arm firmly around your shoulder as the clock ticked later and later. Soon, you were yawning and focusing more on the back of your eyelids than your flashcards.

“Jake,” you murmured, eyes still shut. “I gotta sleep,” you said, reaching over and patting him on the stomach twice. 

“I’m going to finish the game, be up in a second,” he assured. You dropped another sweet kiss on his lips before making your way upstairs, flashcards in hand. After changing into a pair of Jake’s boxer briefs and a big t-shirt, you crawled into bed, still flipping through your notes.

Jake was surprised to see you still awake when he came up to bed about forty-five minutes later. Leaving the bathroom door open, he quickly showered and brushed his teeth

“Baby, time for bed,” he gently plucked the cards out of your fingers, tossing them onto his nightstand. You groaned quietly but snuggled up to his side instead. You’d been hitting the books hard and it was finally catching up to you. Jake’s warm, vetiver skin lulled you quickly to sleep.

However, much later, during the wee hours of the night, Jake awoke to find your side of the bed empty. His eyes strained in the dark night and if he listened carefully, he could hear the soft clicking of a keyboard.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Jake muttered, wiping at his eyes as he rolled out of bed, lazily pulling his sweatpants up his hips to pull the drawstring tight. He padded down the stairs to see you yet again perched at the dining room table, the chandelier above dimmed to the lowest setting. “What are you doing?” He asked, eyes still adjusting to the light, “it’s almost three in the morning.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to see your fiancé frowning at you in the soft light.

“I know, but I had a dream that I showed up for exam day and couldn’t remember the steps to the malleability scale and I woke up panicking,” you listed off. “I just thought if I could re-arrange some of these class notes into a more visual aid, it would help me remember,” you gestured to the computer, a giant yawn overtaking your face.

“Babe, it’s time for bed,” Jake said, stepping closer. You protectively splayed your hands across your notebook on the table.

“I’m not done,” you said quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Jake reached over closing your laptop.

“You’re done. Bed, now,” he ordered, which gave you a little shiver, but you complied nonetheless – dragging your feet down the hall. Luckily for you, you could turn the brightness down on your phone and run through the study guide your leading MD sent out.

After tucking into bed yet again, Jake rolled over, invading your space.

“Phone,” he said, holding out his empty palm.

“Jake,” you began to protest. He tipped his chin up in a challenge. “I need it for my alarm,” you weakly argued.

“We have an alarm clock and I’ll make sure you’re up,” he reassured as you reluctantly placed your phone in his hand. Jake rolled over, his back to you as he set your phone on the side table before snuggling down into the mattress.

“M’not even tired,” you lied with a petulant tone. Jake rolled his eyes, not that you could see it. You spent the next minute being dramatic, sighing heavily and flipping all around to find a comfortable position.

“Baby, go to sleep,” Jake grumbled. You glared at his back for a moment before flopping on your back, arms crossed over your chest, staring at the ceiling. You wondered if you could remember what the study guide looked like from memory.

A few beats passed.

“I swear to god just you being awake like this is keeping me up,” Jake said with finality, rolling over to face you, a stern expression on his face.

“You could have kept sleeping if you just left me alone at the table,” you pointed out.

“You have to sleep or that pretty little brain aint’ gonna remember shit,” he countered, nearly taunting. With a huff, you turned to face away from him, lying on your hip with one knee bent up.

“M’not even tired,” you mumbled again. Ten seconds later, you jumped when you felt Jake’s full body pressing into you from behind.

“You’re not even tired, huh?” Jake asked, knowing damn well you were just being a brat.

“No,” you grumbled, trying to keep in a squeal as his stubble scraped against your neck.

“You want me to put you to sleep?” He breathed into your ear, big hand landing on your upper thigh, just below where his boxer briefs had ridden up your leg with all your tossing and turning.

“You can’t,” you replied, still feeling put off by Jake confiscating your flashcards.

“Sure I can,” he said, hips shifting so you could feel his soft erection against you.

“Bet I can get you to sleep in twenty minutes,” he murmured, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

“Not even tired,” you tried not to gasp as his fingertips slipped below the stretchy band of your borrowed shorts.

“How can you be tired when you’re this wet?” He asked, swiping his fingers through your sex, making you huff.

“You know I like those boxers on you,” you muttered, embarrassed, but at least you were honest. “You’re on the clock, Hangman,” you reminded. Jake gladly cradled your clit between his two fingers, rolling them up and down against your skin. The way you almost avoided his touch by pressing your hips down into the mattress made him grin. Sometimes it was almost too easy. You frowned softly into your pillow as you felt Jake’s hand retreat from your body, but squealed as he quickly dragged the waistband of his boxers all the way down to your ankles.

Jake softly huffed as he pressed his blunt tip against your sex, jaw clenching at the resistance as he sunk in further and further. Turning him further beneath you, your front was pressed down into the mattress.

“How’s that, hmm?” He murmured in your ear. “Gonna listen to me when I tell you to go to sleep, smart girl?” You simply whined gently at the feeling as he filled you. “You hear me?” He asked, knowing he was being haughty.

“Yeah,” you whispered, pushing your hips back against him. Jake reached underneath you, palming your breast in his hand as he continued to fuck you gently down into the mattress. “Jake,” you huffed softly.

“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed patronizingly. “Put you right back to sleep tonight,” he snapped his hips, making you jump. His hand traveled down your stomach, the other braced against the bed so he didn’t squish you entirely, to find your clit again, and gently circling it.

You could feel it start to tickle at the soles of your feet – a telltale sign of impending orgasm.

“More,” you murmured, eyes shutting gently both from pleasure and pure exhaustion.

“More?” Jake asked, pulling his hand out from between your body and the mattress, dipping his fingers in his mouth as his hips continued their steady thrusts. Zeroing in on your clit once more, he knew you were getting close – after this long together, he could read you like a book. He didn’t mind, he was close as well. “Going to fill you right up with a sleeping pill,” he didn’t care that he sounded corny, he was putting his money where his mouth was. One more strategic roll of his fingers and you were fluttering around Jake’s cock, toes curled tight at the end of the bed.

“There we go,” Jake grunted, meeting his own orgasm as he pumped into you dutifully. “That’s a good girl,” he exhaled.

You hated it when Jake was right, because now, your eyelids felt like they were being weight down with bags of cement. Whining once more as he withdrew, you jumped when he tapped the head of his spent cock against your clit.

“Wait right here, precious,” he said, pressing a kiss to the round of your hip.

As if you were going anywhere now. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you knew an alarm was set for the morning, because now you simply couldn’t be bothered to lift your head from the pillow.

“Warmed it up for you, baby,” Jake murmured as a warning before a wet washcloth swiped through your folds. “I know, I know,” he hushed. Jake wiped himself down before padding across the room to drop the towel in the laundry hamper.

Crawling back onto the mattress, he threw a blanket over the two of you, double checking his alarm once more before tossing an arm over your waist. Your lashes laid across your cheekbones in pure serenity as you entered deep sleep.

“Thought you weren’t tired, huh?”

[ramp-it-up]

Football Season

Summary: It’s Football Season. But you want to play.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2K

A/N: it’s the first day of Kinktober! Hope you enjoy! You can read this as a companion piece to Party Games

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Sportsball. Mostly pwp. Established relationship. Thigh riding,  praise/degradation kink, P in V, creampie. Not Beta’d. All errors my own. 

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

It was your first football season living with your boyfriend. You moved in with him in the spring and had wonderful weekends in bed and hanging out with friends. Steve and Sam warned you about Bucky’s obsession, joking that you would be a football widow.

You laughed at the jokes and Bucky pulled you close to him, kissed your temple and said, “Don’t listen to these punks. I would never ignore you, Doll.”.

You believed him. Bucky was so supportive of everything in your life, your job, your hobbies, your family, that you wanted to let him have the perfect supportive football girlfriend on opening weekend. Steve was away for work and Sam was in Louisiana visiting his sister and attending a Saints game. You were going to prove that Bucky wouldn’t miss out on having the guys with him to watch his team.

Bucky looked so fine sitting on the couch, in a t-shirt and basketball shorts with his team’s logo on them and that made you want to serve him the best homemade sandwiches and beer ever.

After you went to the grocery store, you slipped into the bedroom and slipped on your surprise for Bucky, a custom black jersey with red trim from his favorite team with Barnes 001 on the back. You had it made for him, so it hung down your thighs, which were covered by the tops of thigh high red socks.  The kicker was what was underneath the jersey, but that was for later.

Now was the time for some food. It was almost kickoff.

Bucky glanced up at you from his fantasy football app as you placed the tray of food down on the coffee table and did a double take at you in the jersey. Bucky beamed at you as he leaned back and spread his legs.

“What do we have here, Doll?”

His eyebrow raised as he asked the question. You tried to ignore his man spread, even though it was your weakness.

“Just a present for my favorite football fan. I thought I’d break it in for you while we watch the game.”

Bucky grinned at you.

“So thoughtful, Doll. You look great in it. I might never wear it, honestly you look so hot.”

You winked at him as Bucky reached for you. He pulled you onto his thigh and kissed your forehead, temple, nose and mouth. The jersey was tucked under your bottom so you weren’t bare thonging it on his thigh, but you could feel the power there. But now wasn’t the time.

“I love you, Doll.” 

You winked at him, kissed his cheek, stood up and padded back in the kitchen, dodging his hand as he reached for the hem of the jersey. 

“Watch your game!” you called.

“I’d rather watch you, Doll.” 

Bucky’s head followed you for a moment, but he was soon distracted again when his team got possession of the ball.

Once you got him set up, you sat up on the couch with your head on his shoulder and your legs thrown over his. 

Bucky was entranced in the game, drinking beer, pumping his fist and throwing up his hands when his team lost or gained ground, and it was so cute to watch. You man was in his happy place and it made you happy too.

You snuggled his arm and kissed his bicep, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, when during a particularly energetic show of emotion, Bucky’s hand came down with a slap on your thigh.

“Ow!”

You laughed as Bucky looked at you with concern as he rubbed your rapidly reddening limb.

“Sorry, Doll. You okay?”

“I’m good, Jamie. Just let me get my lick back.”

You reached over and pulled up Bucky’s shorts from the thigh closest to you and delivered a sound smack to the corded muscles there. You shifted as you looked at his thigh ripple slightly. He was so fucking thick and the whore in you awakened. Bucky just flexed and smirked at you as you lusted after him.

“I thought you were actually gonna lick it.”

That grin.

“Hmmmph.” 

You gave him a side eye and snuggled in again as he returned to his game, the idea of licking his thigh, and other things, taking over your brain. You shifted, the red thong you had on under the jersey now uncomfortable in your wet folds as Bucky got engrossed in the game again.

This was turning into a situation.

You didn’t know if you could be still for two more hours. It was only the first quarter. You stared at his thigh at the muscles shifting and moving as he did, and you didn’t realize it, but you were shuffling down his arm, your mouth nearing his muscular leg.

You snuck a look up at him to find him smiling down at you.

“You good, Doll? What are you doing? Why do you look like you’re about to commit a crime?”

Bucky could read you like a book. And you loved it.

“Hmmm. I just want a little… snack…”

With a mischievous smile, you fully committed and leaned down to lick a long stripe from his Bucky’s knee until your head was halfway covered by his shorts. Your mouth nose bumped his ball sack and you felt him jump.

“What the…?”

When you resurfaced, Bucky looked at you, sky blue eyes wide.

“You said you wanted me to lick it.”

You shrugged your shoulders and took a drink of water.

“I said I thought you were going to…” 

Bucky eyed you gulping down the glass and stopped trying to explain himself.

“You thirsty Doll?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and nodded, smiling back at the man who was not paying attention to his game anymore.

“Liquid is collecting places, need to replenish.”

Bucky leaned back, and hiked the leg of his shorts even higher. 

“Are you wet, Baby Doll?”

That name. Bucky had you.

You nodded, your mouth open slightly to breathe. He had you open.

“Well, you already got me wet, little Baby. Might as well finish the job.”

Bucky patted his thigh.

“.. But.. the game, Jamie…”

“I can still watch the game while you use my thigh, Baby. Climb on.”

You stood up and lifted the jersey to pull down the thong but Bucky stopped you with a whistle.

“Shit Baby Doll. Look at how you’ve ruined that pretty little red thong. Turn around.”

You did as you were told and Bucky picked up the thong from between your ass cheeks and snapped it back into place. Then he smacked your butt.

“That is one lucky piece of material. Nestled in all that ass so pretty.”

He turned you around with both hands and then stared at your crotch.

“You’re so wet that you are making this red thong even darker.”

Bucky picked up the thong from the front and ran his finger down to the wetness, then he pulled so it moved even tighter between your legs. That, coupled with him giving you that ice blue sex god stare almost made your knees buckle.

“I think you need to keep this on and use it to help you get off. Climb on.”

Bucky leaned back again and slowly sucked his finger into his mouth, slowly pulling it out for you to see. He knew that got you hot.

You did as you were told, using your hands to brace on his broad shoulders. You were down closer to his knee and he reached for you, placing his hands on your waist to drag you closer to him.

“Careful with that knee, Doll.”

The warning made you giggle, because one false move would not be so good for Bucky’s balls.

“Get comfy for me.”

You shifted, widening your legs, so that your knee simply slid along his wide open other leg as you moved, nice and slow, grinding your core into his hairy, beefy thigh.

“That feel good?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip. You surprised yourself at how close you were so quickly and you balled Bucky’s t-shirt in your hands as your hips moved faster and faster.

“There you go. Good Girl.”

He reached up under the jersey and tweaked one nipple, teasing your rapidly heating body.

“Now, stay quiet and don’t cum, because I’m watching the game. It would make too much noise. But don’t stop moving either Doll. Can you handle that? Don’t cum until I tell you.”

You nodded again, not caring that what he said didn’t make any sense. You were already lost in the feeling.

Bucky looked back up at the tv screen, as if he was really watching the game.

You moved, your slick allowing your folds to skate along his thigh, the flexing he was giving you the perfect compliment the your dripping, throbbing flesh that you owned. You felt his cock, hard now against your own thigh and you shuddered, a new need awakening.

Bucky hands slipped under the jersey and both hands teased your hard nipples.

“Mmmmmmhmmmm, Buckyyyy.”

You arched your back and went faster as you felt your clit quiver against his flesh. Your pussy reacted instinctively.

“Damn, Baby Doll,” Bucky took a drink of beer. “Your pussy is clenching on my leg like she could take it inside her. Fucking whore for my body, aren’t ya? Wanna use me any way you want, huh?”

You shuddered again, Bucky’s filthy words making you even closer to the edge.

“Look at you, arching your back like a slut.”

Bucky pulled the jersey off of your body and his eyes raked over you.

“My beautiful little slut.”

Bucky leaned over and started sucking your nipples, hard, alternating sides and sensations between sicking, licking and biting.

“Look at you, riding my thigh and holding it like a good little slut. So obedient. So good for me.”

“Ahhhhh! Bucky! Mmmmmmmm.”

“Love it when you moan for me. Being such a good girl. My best girl…ah ah ah.. Hold it.”

Bucky was feeling you quiver and shudder on his thigh, not able to move anymore because you felt like sparks were shooting from where you were connected. He reached for you and grabbed you, dragging your soaking wet slit down the insistent ridge of his thigh.

“I didn’t say you could stop moving. Do you want to come? Tell me?”

“Please…Bucky…”

Bucky grabbed your throat.

“Not. Yet.”

Bucky was staring at you as you bit your lip, trying with all of your might to control your release. He watched the tears start to fall and he licked them from your cheeks.

You were so mesmerized by his eyes that you didn’t notice that he’d pulled his cock out from his shorts. He lifted you up by your neck and you stood on shaking legs and practically impaled yourself on him.

“Come on my cock then, Baby Doll. Come all pretty for me.”

You slid down to the base of him, wider than you expected although you’d had him hundreds of times before and shuddered from the stretch. 

“Oh fuck. Take my cock, Baby Doll. Fuck.”

That shudder led you into an intense orgasm, partially because Bucky was holding you down, making you feel him stretch you out.

“Look at you. I don’t even have to move and you come all pretty all over my cock.”

You started sucking his neck as you came, vibrating all around him.

“Oh shit, give me that orgasm.” 

Bucky started moving then, the obscene sound of your wetness filling the room.

“Yeah, yeah, of fuck, yes, yes, yes…oh God yes…”

You were mewling and whining as he pounded into you, your orgasm extending, blooming and growing.

Bucky pulled pack to look at your bouncing breasts and you realized that it was you fucking him now, and he was enjoying the show.

“Yeah, Baby, fuck me. Show me who I belong to. Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop until you cum…”

You put your hands on his chest and bounced up at down a what seemed like warp speed. Bucky cupped the base of his shaft as you fucked yourself on him and fingered your ass and your cunt as you moved.

“Oooohhhhhh! Bucky!”

“Oohhhh my Good goddd!”

Bucky roared as he spurted hot come in your pussy, and you didn’t stop moving until he was soft and slipping out of you.

You collapsed on his chest listening to his heart thump. Suddenly you heard the game again. A roar came from the crowd and Bucky pumped his fist.

“Yes! Amazing Score!”

You laughed as you kissed Bucky’s cheek and moved to go put the jersey back on.

Bucky kissed the top of your head as you leaned on his arm again. He put himself back in his shorts as he put his arm around you.

“My fucking good luck charm. My best girl.”

“Love you too, Bucky.”

And you dozed until he woke up with his head between your legs at halftime.

As always, if you liked it, please reblog! ❤️

[fredwkong]

I feel like the world would be a better place if everyone was queer. So here’s my wish: that every queer person turns into a dom gay stereotypes and that ever straight person turns into a sub gay stereotypes. Like that there should be plenty of fund] for everyone involved.

Well, this is a bit awkward. It seems that you’ve stumbled on part of the premise for my 2000 follower story, Alphaworld, that I’ll be starting soon. I suppose that I can reward you by letting a genie fulfill this wish for you specifically.

The genie has the body of an absolute god, and has such a dominant energy radiating off of him that you find yourself forced to kneel before him.

“None of that,” he says, with a voice like a roll of thunder, and he touches your bowed head, as if anointing you.

Instantly, you feel a wave of power through your body. You surge to your feet, your shirt shredding off your dark-haired muscles as a thick beard appears on your jaw. Your cock thickens and starts to leak a constant stream of pre, quickly dissolving your underwear to leave you commando in your straining jeans. Sweat pours off your growing muscles, and you give your fragrant armpit an appreciative sniff. You can't wait to shove a sub in there to worship you like the god you are.

You feel a powerful drive to fuck and dominate other men, but when you look for the genie to put him in his place, he’s vanished. You hear the rumble of his voice through the wall, though, probably talking to your straight roommate.

When you swagger into his bedroom, palming your wet cock bulge, you find your roommate writhing, face down, on his mattress. His clothes have all vanished, except for a jockstrap and football pads, and you notice that his open closet only contains sports gear. His ass has ballooned into a full-on bubble butt. When he hears your heavy footfalls, he looks over his shoulder. In your dominant presence, a sub like him can’t even talk. He just gives you pleading eyes, his ass enticingly exposed for you to take and fulfill his deepest needs.

Another wish fulfilled.

Got a wish you need twisted? Send an ask! Remember to say “I wish” so the genie hears exactly what you’re wishing for.

[curran55]

The Ultimate Guide to Padded Football Shirts for Youth: Safety, Comfort, and Performance

Football is an exhilarating sport that demands skill, strategy, and the right gear, especially for young players. Ensuring the safety and comfort of our young athletes is paramount, and that’s where the Padded Football Shirt Youth comes into play. In this social blog, we'll explore why these shirts are essential, what features to look for, and how Exxactsports is leading the way in youth sports gear innovation.

Why Youth Padded Football Shirts Matter

Youth football is all about learning, growing, and having fun. However, it's also a sport with inherent risks, including tackles, falls, and collisions. A  Padded Football Shirt Youth is designed to provide crucial protection to young players, reducing the risk of injuries and boosting their confidence on the field.

Key Features of Youth Padded Football Shirts

Strategic Padding

Youth padded football shirts come with strategically placed padding to protect vital areas such as the shoulders, chest, ribs, and spine. This targeted protection is essential for safeguarding young bodies during high-impact plays.

Lightweight and Breathable Fabrics

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[traldemic6]

Tempting the Freshman, Part II

Chapter 2: The Slow March of Autumn

The second half of the football season started with an air of anticipation as the crisp autumn breeze swept across the campus, bringing with it a sense of change. The transformation that everyone was eagerly looking forward to, however, was not just the changing colors of the leaves, but the changing shape of Jake, the golden-haired freshman who had caught everyone's attention.

In the early October days, Jake's once roomy uniform began to fit him a little more snugly. His shirt, previously loose around his torso, started to stretch across his chest, outlining the slight softness that had begun to replace his formerly chiseled pecs.

“Bro, my shirt's all tight and stuff,” Jake casually mentioned to Coach Thompson one afternoon, his eyes filled with confusion and a hint of amusement. “Must be the washing machine shrinking it or something.”

He laughed it off, his typical carefree demeanor undeterred by the subtle changes to his body. Coach Thompson, however, watched this transformation with a sinister anticipation, a dark hunger growing within him.

As the days turned into weeks, the changes in Jake's physique became more evident. His underwear had begun to strain even more against his burgeoning flesh. Even the stiff fabric of his football pants had begun to yield, stretching to accommodate the soft, rounded edges of his ass.

"Man, these pants are like, suffocating my thighs," Jake complained one day, attempting to readjust his shorts that had ridden up his fuller thighs. He laughed, a bemused smile on his face as he added, "Guess I need to cut back on mom's desserts."

Inside the locker room, stripped of his football gear, Jake’s transformation was even more noticeable. His abs, once a defined six-pack, were now a faint memory, replaced by a slight roundness that was entirely new to his athletic physique. His pecs, previously hard as stones, had a softness to them, a layer of padding that slightly jiggled when he moved.

"Dude, check this out!" Jake said one day, patting his belly with a chuckle. His fingers sank slightly into the softness, a stark contrast to the firm abs that he used to proudly show off. "I've got some serious dough going on here!"

As the season wore on and autumn's grip began to tighten, Jake's body continued to fill out. His thighs, once lean and muscular, had softened and thickened, now brushing against each other as he moved. His ass, once firm and pert, had become plumper, a soft roundness that jiggled slightly each time he sprinted down the field.

The sight was enough to send Coach Thompson's pulse racing. He felt a twisted thrill each time he saw Jake’s increasingly plump ass straining against his uniform pants, his mind filled with images of the boy growing even softer, rounder.

"Coach, my pants are like, super tight," Jake complained one day after practice, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. "Do you think I'm packing on too much?"

To Coach Thompson, however, Jake was becoming more attention-grabbing with each passing day. The sight of his young charge, once lean and muscular, now softening and filling out, was an intoxicating sight that he reveled in.

"No, Jake," he reassured the anxious boy, a predatory smile playing on his lips. "You're just bulking up, it's all good."

Jake seemed to accept this explanation, his easygoing nature and trust in his coach overriding any doubts. "If you say so, coach," he replied, his voice filled with the naive innocence that Coach Thompson found so endearing. "Just don't want to let the team down, you know?"

By November, the changes in Jake's physique were impossible to ignore. His practice shirts clung to his body, outlining the soft roundness of his belly. His uniform pants strained against the increasing bulk of his thighs and ass, the once loose fabric now molding to his fuller figure.

"Yo, Coach," Jake approached Thompson one chilly afternoon, a sheepish grin on his face. "I think I gotta get a new uniform. This one's like, super snug."

The sight of Jake struggling with his clothes sent a thrill of satisfaction through Coach Thompson. This was his doing, his manipulation, and the sight of Jake growing softer and rounder filled him with a dark desire.

"Don't worry about it, Jake," he reassured the boy, a wolfish grin on his face. "You're just filling out, that's all. Nothing to be ashamed of."

Jake chuckled, his cheeks turning a shade pinker. "If you say so, Coach. Just don't want to split my pants on the field, that's all."

As the football season neared its end, Jake's transformation continued unabated. His once taut body was now softer, his lean muscles hidden beneath layers of comfortable fat. His ass, once firm and muscular, now jiggled when he moved, a soft roundness that strained against his uniform pants. His belly, once flat and hard, now protruded slightly, a soft dome that quivered with each step.

Each day in the locker room was a revelation for Coach Thompson. Jake, stripped of his football gear, was a sight to behold. His once chiseled abs were now hidden beneath a layer of softness, his muscular pecs replaced by comfortable padding. His thighs, once lean and hard, now rubbed against each other, the skin softer and smoother.

"Man, I'm turning into a real tub of lard," Jake joked one day, patting his belly with a chuckle. He looked up at Coach Thompson, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You better not let me turn into a complete marshmallow, Coach."

Coach Thompson merely chuckled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Don't worry, Jake. I won't let that happen."

But in his heart, Coach Thompson knew that was a lie. He was looking forward to seeing Jake grow even softer, even rounder. His desire to see the boy transform was a dark hunger that he couldn't ignore.

In the locker room, Jake was a sight to behold. His body, once firm and muscular, was now softer and rounder. His belly, once flat and hard, was now a soft dome that slightly quivered with each step. His ass, once firm and pert, was now a soft roundness that jiggled slightly with each movement.

"Man, I really let myself go," Jake chuckled, patting his belly with a sheepish grin. But despite his words, there was no regret in his voice, no hint of disappointment. He seemed to accept what had started happening to him.

"I've really packed it on, huh, Coach?" Jake commented one day, his eyes wide as he patted his belly. His fingers sank into the soft flesh, a stark contrast to the firm muscles that once resided there.

The sight of Jake's soft belly sent a shiver of delight down Thompson's spine. "It's not a big deal, Jake," he reassured the young athlete, his voice smooth and deceptive. "It's just the off-season. We'll get you back in shape for the next one."

Jake seemed to accept this, his trusting eyes meeting Coach Thompson's. "If you say so, Coach," he said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

As he watched Jake walk away, his plump ass jiggling slightly with each step, a smile spread across his face. The sight filled him with anticipation, his mind already racing with plans for his future.

[iwriteficsandtragedies]

Neglected

A/N oh my god they were roommates, 800 words. Be kind, it's been a thousand years.

Athlete: Dominik Szoboszlai

Warnings: 18+ only please - fingering, mouth full of sin; also breakups, shitty boyfriends, beer, porn; Google translated Hungarian. Shady POV switching.

________________________________________

Dominik greets her at the door with takeout and the good beer, just as she did for him during his last breakup. “That guy was trash, anyway.”

She rolls her eyes, shoves past him to drop her work things on the stairs and strip out of her winter outerwear. “Try not to look so happy about my impending spinsterhood.”

He chuckles as he turns for the kitchen to unpack their dinner. “He didn’t even watch football,” he called over his shoulder. “What did the two of you even talk about?”

He watches her pick through her food, waiting for her to open up first. She’s sad, but not devastated. “He wasn’t even all that into me,” she finally says, and he shifts his body towards her.

“What do you mean?’

She shrugs. “Just… never initiated. Anything. Never texted me first, never planned anything, never… anything, really.” She sets down her near-untouched food. “I don’t know why I put so much effort into it. And he was always jealous of us living together.”

He leans forward onto the counter next to her, his own food forgotten. “Idiot.” 

She looks towards him with a defeated half-smile. “Plus it’s hard to compete against… y’know, the internet.” He raises a questioning brow. “I think he preferred porn to me, honestly.” 

His brain goes blank for a moment, a dull hum in place of thoughts before he blinks himself back to awareness. “…the fuck?”

She laughs at his bewilderment. “Come on, Domi, it’s not like it’s a rare thing anymore.” He continues to stare at her in wide-eyed confusion. “Stop it.”

He rises to his full height, moving to stand in front of her. She can’t understand his muttering in Hungarian, but he looks pissed when he lays his hands on the counter to frame her in between his arms. “I hope his dick falls off.”

She can’t help the snort she makes, smiling up at him. “To be fair,” smile faltering when his face grows darker, closer to hers. “Domi, you-”

“When’s the last time he touched you,” he croons in her ear, fingertips skimming over the curves of her waist and hips. “When’s the last time he made you feel good, pretty girl?”

“I-” Her voice catches when he caresses the bare skin just beneath the hem of her shorts, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. She can feel her face reddening, her body flushing with the heat rising in her. “I don’t remember.”

He makes a noise low in his throat, hands gripping dimples into her thighs. “Fucker,” he murmurs, and the press of his thigh between her legs spikes her adrenaline. His lips trace her jawline to her mouth, skimming over her trembling lips. “That’s unacceptable.”

She puts up no resistance when he hikes her legs around his waist, pushing her onto the counter to finally seal his lips against hers; she’s pliant when his tongue coaxes her bottom lip open, putty in his hands as they explore her body. He inches back to smile down at her and he’s so devastatingly handsome she has to bite back a whimper, fingers curling into his shirt. “Kiss me again,” she pleads, and he’s so eager to comply her body slides further backwards, head narrowly missing the cabinet behind her. With a grunt he forces her forward again, body molded to hers as his tongue desperately seeks out hers.

“Take me to bed,” she gasps, oxygen deprived but still starved for his kiss. “Take me to bed, Domi, please.” He curses when her fingers tighten in his hair, her hips rolling against his. He’s so hard it’s painful.

“Need to make you cum first,” he says, swallowing her whine of protest when he hikes her shorts and panties over her ass down to her knees. “Need it,” he whispers, begs. When he drags the pad of his thumb through the slick gathering between her legs, parting her lips to swipe over her clit in a slow, soothing rhythm, the shiver that darts up her spine pushes a moan from her throat.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He’s equal parts arrogant and awestruck, pupils blown wide as he watches her come undone. She doesn’t try to still her quaking thighs, kept apart by his slim hips; she comes embarrassingly fast, his name a quiet cry on her lips when her orgasm jolts through her suddenly, engulfed by his scent when he presses himself ever closer to hold her as she trembles.

“Holy shit,” she says when she feels like she can breathe again. “You’re…” she trails off weakly.

He takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger to bring her face to his, his lips soft against hers again. “I’m just getting started,” he promises.

[fairsexynasty]

∞ ₒ 🏆˚ ° 🏈 WHO’S FREER THAN ME?

+*:🐅:* joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: talk, talk, talk. it’s like men were conditioned to do only that. will they ever listen to you? questions plague your mind during a night out with joe. except, you’re not physically with him, quite unfortunately so.

warnings: SMUT. oral (fem receiving), squirting, fingering (fem receiving), daddy kink, dom/sub, subspace, mentions of spanking, dacryphilia mention, jealous!joe, asshat men

a/n: and she’s finally here! and she’s looking gorg <3

You figured that it was natural to get yourself caught up in tricky situations. The night before, you were adamant on the fact that parties were insipid and required an amount of fucks you personally couldn’t give. But damn it, Joe. It wasn’t on purpose, but his eyes practically begged you to accompany him to the stupid thing, and the last thing you wanted was Joe standing against a wall, drink in hand, disappointed you hadn’t tagged along. So after a period of begging (and kissing,) you reluctantly agreed to go to the party.

And it was terrible.

Never once in your life did you have to interact with such vapid, arrogant adults who had pools of beer and other mystery alcohols spilling down their shirts. It smelled like a gym and a bar at the same exact time, and the smell was so unrelenting, you excused yourself and headed upstairs.

Passing by multiple guys who had always been assholes to you out of attraction, made it to a secluded hallway, dim with dying overhead floral lights. At some point, Joe was pulled away by guys who animatedly conversed with him in what was probably their first-ever conversation with your boyfriend.

Footsteps padded along the stairs and you prayed it would be your boyfriend, for he at least had some decency to not stomp on some rando’s carpet. Unfortunately, you were met with— well, you didn’t know his name.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here!” He greeted you. The look you gave made him say his name, but frustratingly enough, you hadn’t heard him. You stared up at him through the rim of your cup, a white line appearing in your vision and cutting off his torso.

“I, uh, I don’t find myself at parties a lot. Out of my own volition.” Perhaps, if you were sardonic enough, he would leave you the fuck alone and you’d be able to hide out in the bathroom for the rest of the night. Nothing like sitting atop a polished granite slab, feeling the surface vibrate in pulses beneath you.

‘What’s-his-face’ gives a stupid chortle. He’s finding you amusing, which is literally the opposite of what you want from him. “Oh, so you’re a cool girl, aren’t you?”

No. No, no, no, not this gimmick.

Rule one of interacting with men you don’t like, is never to make them think you’re a cool girl, which is another word for “My own personal manic pixie dream girl.” Once they think that, you’re free game, no matter how hard you try to rope yourself back in. And now, ‘What’s-his-face’ has pulled the buoy cord out of the water, leaving you stranded with him for god knows how long.

He asks you about your favorite SNL sketches, how many Blur songs you can name, and whether or not you caught the Sunday football game. Your stomach shifts inside your body, his douchebag aura making you feel queasy, and now you’re yearning for your boyfriend who is most likely surrounded by other douchebags like the one in front of you. You should have handcuffed yourself to Joe. Should have tackled him down the stairs and knocked him out before he stepped foot outside your house. Maybe, you should have driven all the way to get ice cream instead and fuck him after.

But you didn’t, and now you have to pay the price.

“It’s really nice that you’re listening, typically girls start talking about other stuff when I’m talking, it’s really kind of you.” Ugh. No fucking way. Then, he placed a fucking hand on your arm. “Wanna get out of here?”

Before you can slap him in the face, Joe turns him around by his shoulder. “No, but I think you should, right buddy? I mean, look at her. She’s obviously not interested, and would rather shoot herself than talk to you.” You let out a laugh because there’s no one who understands you more than Joe does. “Don’t you?”

It strikes you as strange, it even incenses you. What the hell do you mean by that, Joe? You grab his hand and start pulling him with you, not bothering to bid goodbye to the other guy.

“I want to leave,” you start as the two of you trudge down the stairs. “Got it?”

Joe rolls his eyes but acquiesces to your request. He grabs his keys from his pocket and the two of you are out the door.

The car ride back to your apartment is silent. Dead silent. Once you arrive home, you make a dash for the door, choosing not to wait for Joe.

“Babe,” he calls out. He catches up and closes the door behind him. His hand runs over his face. “The hell was that?”

“You know I don’t like parties, I told you I didn’t want to go.”

“Yeah, initially, but then you eventually agreed, right?”

You groan in frustration. “I lied, Joe.”

“So why are you mad at me because you lied? If you wanted to leave, you could have told me, but you let that douche chat you up instead.” He walks toward you and holds your chin with his pointer and thumb.

“You know I didn’t like him,” you say in earnest and avoiding eye contact.

“Really? Because I can’t read your mind, baby. Tell me what you need.” The air grows thick with tension. Suddenly you feel hot, overcome with a warmth fueled by Joe radiating jealousy. You also feel a bit of pompousness in the mix, knowing Joe is feeding off of the fact you’re caught in a now precarious situation. His eyes seem as if they’re smirking at your own, his lids curving at the ends, irises as blue as sapphire. He’s teasing you, making you wait for him to quit the unrelenting gaze that was so stimulating.

You decide to take his thumb into your mouth, wrapping your pouted lips around the digit. Your throat began to meet with his thumb almost immediately and you moaned, wondering how his fingers would feel in you.

Head moving back and letting Joe’s thumb fall from your mouth, a string of saliva trailed to your lips, you immediately go dumb for him. “Need you to fuck me, daddy.” Glossy eyes bat three times at him. “Please?”

It’s almost shameful to you that you put yourself in this position every single time. It’s almost shameful how you go dumb as soon as your arousal gets sexual, as if all you’ve built yourself up to be washes away in the waves of fuck me now. But it does fill you with pride in the end, because you hold the key to Joe’s satisfaction, and you’re the only person who does him as well as you do.

“That’s my girl,” a low coo of pleasantry. He scoops you up in his arms and you let out a squeal of surprise. Joe walks to your bedroom, slipping your shoes off and dropping them on the floor along the way. He gently lays you on top of the sheets, holding your head as he leans in to kiss you.

Moaning into the kiss, your hands take the rein in his hair, fingers already carding through the blond. Joe tugs at your bottom lip, making you drop your jaw just a bit so he can explore inside your mouth.

You find it astonishing. To be concise, Joe’s pretty selfish— but it’s how he takes things for himself that renders you wanton. The way he bites on your skin and soothes it after. How his hands direct your body in any way of his choosing. When he holds your head up as you cum to make sure he can see the stars in your eyes.

Your legs spread immediately as Joe enters the space between them. He takes his time trailing hot kisses down your neck, then down your torso after removing your top and bra. His fingers dance upon your jean-clad thighs, tap-tap-tapping upwards to your button and zipper, then work in a quick fashion to rid you of your bottoms. You’re left in just your panties and they’re soaked with your wetness, turning a shade darker than the original where it covers your core.

Joe’s eyes glimmer with an unsatiable want to ruin you. His fingers trail over your core, and you let out a breathy whimper. God, you’re pathetic. “You got really worked up didn’t you, pretty girl? How long were you waiting for me to come to save you?”

You let out a playful scoff and roll your eyes. “I don’t need to be saved, Joey. I just know you missed me so much.” Pulling him closer by his belt loops, you bite his bottom lip and pull ever-so-slightly. “Don’t tease me, daddy. Makes me upset.”

The soft sound of your purrs full of pure raunch flips a switch in Joe. Instead of wanting to fuck you dumb, slap your ass until the skin was hot to the touch, kiss the tears that never stopped running down your cheeks, the man decided he wanted you to scream for more. More, more, more. God, he could just hear it in his mind. Blessed cries of pleasure, letting his baby take whatever she wanted from him like the princess she was, that’s all he needed now.

He pounced at your neck in an attempt to distract you from what he was about to do— rip your panties apart in one swift motion, with little to no effort at all. He lowly chuckles against your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine. As he kisses and marks his territory, his hands travel to your core and start truly exploring the wetness that coats you. His two fingers slip inside as easily as ever, and he’s grateful to realize it’s because you’ve decided he’s all you ever wanted.

“That’s my girl. So ready for daddy, aren’t you?” You nod softly and pull him into a deep kiss.

The tightness is a comfort and Joe curves his fingers to pull a moan out of you that bounces off the walls of your room. With every flick of the wrist, he feels your cunt pulse around his fingers, sucking him back in deeper each time.

His mouth leaves your neck and goes straight for your pussy, instantly latching onto your clit and sucking, hard. You let out a scream, as your mind tries to wrap around how it’s possible he makes you feel even better each time. “Fuck, s’good daddy, so good…”

Joe’s tongue parts your folds and joins his fingers in motion. The heat travels all along your body as you drip onto him. He eats you out like a man starved, licking and thrusting his tongue all over, catching every last drop of what you give to him.

The coil in your abdomen tightens and your thighs clench and shake around Joe’s head. Your hands snake down his hair and pull hard, taking rein in the blond. Your back arches over and over as you grind into his mouth, chasing your release.

After you start practically fucking yourself onto his fingers, Joe comes up and takes one good look at you. Your eyes have rolled into the back of your head, your skin sheen with sweat, and your body just looks outright divine.

“Gonna cum for daddy, honey?”

“‘M so close, gonna cum, daddy-“ You cut yourself off with a moan. He knows you’re so incredibly close that you’ve lost the ability to hold onto necessary cognition, so he gives you a couple of slaps to your clit, and soon enough you’re gushing all over his fingers. “Oh, fuck!”

“There you go, good fucking girl,” he groans,  failing to cease rubbing at your clit. He wants all of the mess that you so happily give to him. Once you’ve finished cumming and the aftershock contractions start, he finally controls himself. He dips his head back down to clean you up with his tongue, and you choke out tiny squeals.

Then, he’s done being selfish for the time being. He meets you face to face again. Your eyes lull back and forth from clear vision to a blur of Joe above you. “Come back to me, baby,” he whispers as you slowly regain consciousness. He caresses your cheek, pressing small kisses from your forehead into your hairline.

He smiles when he feels your arms wrap around him, your hold as present as your mind. “Thank you, Joey,” you whisper back. Your hands feel fabric clinging to his back, and you suddenly realize he never even got undressed. “What’s with the clothes?”

Joe smiles down at you. “A very wise woman told me that men need to listen to women in conversation. This is my special way of conversing with you, I guess.”

“Did you make a mess in your pants, Joe?”

“Not answering that.”

[housethemd]

Behind Closed Doors

When Chase happened to mention he had to be out of his apartment for 24 hours due to windows being replaced, Wilson invites him to stay with himself and House. Chase gets to see a side of his boss few do.

Established married House/Wilson.

(This is the fic that got the most votes when I did a poll on which of my WIP people were most interested in.)

~~~~~~~~~~

Chase stood awkwardly outside the door of 221B, trying to convince himself to knock. It wasn’t too late to turn around, get a hotel room. Wilson had offered, nay, insisted that he stay with him and House for the night however.

Wilson was a nice guy. Far to nice to be married to House in Chase’s opinion, but the two seemed to make each other happy so he supposed he couldn’t judge. He doesn’t know what he’s so nervous of, he’s been at 221B before. He knows there’s no sex dungeon or large aggressive dog waiting on the other side. Maybe it’s that it’s his boss, that it’s House.

He closes his eyes, bites the bullet, and knocks. It takes long enough for someone to answer that Chase begins to wonder if this wasn’t some elaborate prank. While House is usually the one staging such things, it wouldn’t be unusual for Wilson to get involved. He’s about to turn around and leave when he hears the door unlock and it opens to reveal House himself standing on the other side.

“Um. Hi.” Chase says. He’d been hoping Wilson would answer the door.

“Wombat.” House replies.

House is dressed in one of his band t-shirts and a pair of loose fitting basketball shorts. His feet are bare and he’s leaning on the wall, his cane nowhere to be seen. They stand eye to eye for a few moments, neither speaking or moving, when a voice calls out from inside the apartment.

“Don’t just stand there, invite him in!” It’s Wilson’s voice, and it holds a tone of fond exasperation.

House doesn’t say anything, but turns around and limps into the apartment. Chase glances around, but ultimately follows him in. Given House’s lack shoes he opts to remove his own. He’s more comfortable that way anyway. He’s never understood why Americans wear their shoes at home.

House is sitting on the couch, and there is an American football game playing on the TV. The windows are open, letting in the slightly cool September breeze. He can smell something delicious coming from the kitchen where Wilson stands at the stove.

“You made it!” Wilson says when he sees Chase.

“Yeah, found the place alright.” Chase jokes.

He stands awkwardly for a moment, not sure where he’s supposed to be going or what he’s supposed to be doing. Should he be offering to help in the kitchen? He’s a little nervous to just sit down next to House. At work they’re comfortable around each other, hell the could go for a drink and it probably wouldn’t be awkward, but something about being in House’s domain makes him nervous.

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring you a beer in a second.” Wilson tells him.

He does as he told, and sit on the opposite end of the couch to House, who doesn’t acknowledge him.

“You want another beer, Greg?” Wilson sticks his head out of the kitchen.

“Yeah.” House replies.

It’s strange hearing House called “Greg.” He shouldn’t be shocked, they are a married couple for God’s sake. Still, House is one of those people who seems like he only has one name - House.

Wilson comes out with two beers in hand. He’s dressed in grey sweatpants and what looks like one of House’s t-shirts. It strikes him as odd but he reminds himself again that they are married. Wilson hands the beers over the back of the couch. Chase makes a point to say thank you but House just sort of grunts, eyes never straying from the TV.

After a while Wilson appears again with two plates full of what looks like homemade Pad Thai. After placing them in front of the two of them he leaves and returns with his own plate, sitting down between them.

The food is delicious. They all dig in with reckless abandon and take turns making comments on the game. House makes scathing deductions about the players personal lives and Chase has no idea if he is serious or is just saying ridiculous and offensive things to make Wilson laugh.

“Stop stealing my chicken.” Wilson says without taking his eyes off the game.

House had been using his chopsticks to steal bits of chicken off the edge of Wilson’s plate.

“You barely gave me any.” House whined.

“I gave you plenty.” Wilson replied as if reasoning with a small child.

“Fine. But it tastes better when it’s yours.” House’s voice held a tone of flirtation which Chase took as his cue to go grab a beer from the fridge.

He felt lucky that Wilson didn’t seem to escalate the situation in an amorous direction, though when he was returning from the kitchen he did catch Wilson feeding House a piece of chicken from his own plate.

House and Wilson finished their food before he did, and they both took their plates out to the kitchen. Chase paid them no mind, until he heard House’s voice speaking in a low register.

“Dinner was extremely acceptable.” He said as he leaned on the kitchen island.

“Oh my, that’s almost a compliment.” Wilson replied, placing both hands on either side of House’s hips on the island, leaning into his space.

It was like watching a car crash, Chase thought as Wilson pressed a deep kiss to House’s mouth. He didn’t want to be watching his boss and his husband make out, yet he couldn’t quite look away. It was so odd, seeing them in this domestic light. While everyone at work knew they were married, they didn’t really engage in a lot of PDA.

“If you want to thank me for that extremely acceptable dinner, I can think of a way.” Wilson rasped when he pulled away from the kiss.

One of Wilson’s hands moved from it’s place by House’s hip, to grab a handful of his ass.

Chase immediately turned back to the game. That was more than he needed to know about the intimate dynamics of their marriage. He quickly finished his food, and excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned House was on the floor in front of the TV, pulling at something on the stand.

“Wilson!” He exclaimed, far louder than necessary given that Wilson was just in the kitchen.

“Yes, Darling?” Wilson came into the living room, hands on his hips and smirk on his face.

“Where are the cables for the PlayStation?”

Wilson’s eyes lit up, seeming quite pleased with himself. Chase wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was going on.

“It’s your night to do the dishes.” Wilson stated, still in his hands on hips position.

“Are you hard of hearing? I said where are the cords for the PlayStation.” House over emphasized, staring at Wilson with a Jack Nicholson level stare.

“And I’ll tell you where the cords for the PlayStation are, as soon as you’ve done the dishes.” Wilson mocked.

“You really think that will make me do the dishes? I’m a genius, you think I can’t just find the cords?” House argued.

“That’s exactly what I think. You can either spend hours searching for the cords, which you won’t find by the way, and then do the dishes or you can spend ten minutes doing the dishes now, then I’ll give you the cords, and you can be playing GTA before the sun goes down. But it’s up you, genius.”

Wilson looked exactly like the cat that got the canary as House used the coffee table to help push himself up off the floor, grumbling about how rude it was to make cripples do chores.

“I put the stool in front of the sink for you so you don’t have to stand!” Wilson called after him, before starting a ridiculous and frankly awkward looking dance of victory.

Twenty minutes later House limps back into the living room, declaring the dishes complete. Wilson goes as far as to inspect the kitchen, including opening the oven for some reason, before opening the cupboard under the sink and pulling out a blue bucket filled with cleaning supplies. Reaching his hand inside he produces the cords, handing them to House.

“There you go, have fun.” He says with a fond smile.

Chase is truthfully confused. Wilson cooked dinner, had his food stolen by House, at some point he took apart their PlayStation and hid the cords just to bribe House into doing a completely normal household task, and yet he seems completely unbothered. In fact he seems to be enjoying himself.

House, on the other hand, seems slightly less abrasive though he wouldn’t go as far as to call him caring. He doesn’t really know why the incredibly kind Wilson tolerates him as his spouse.

Once House has the PlayStation up and running Wilson brings them each another beer and together the three of them play a few rounds of Mario Kart. They are all competitive and while Chase never manages to beat House, he takes solace in the fact Wilson does.

“Would you guys mind if I went out for a run? I like going to this trail just outside town so I’ll be gone a couple hours.” Chase asks.

“Sure but don’t think you can you use our shower.” House says, getting up from the couch to hobble over to the piano bench.

“He’s joking. Of course you can go for your run and of course you can shower after.” Wilson shoots a look at House, who is staring innocently down at the keys of the instrument.

Chase changes in the bathroom, and when he returns to the living room Wilson curled up on the couch reading a book while House plays a quiet, gentle melody. It’s shockingly domestic and Chase puts on his shoes and slips out the door quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

When Chase returns from his run, Wilson is still sitting on the couch but now he’s watching a black and white film on TV. House is stretched out across the couch, right foot propped up on the arm, left foot tucked under his right knee, and his head in Wilson’s lap. He’s also snoring softly.

“Is he…” Chase trails off as he toes off his running shoes.

“Asleep? Yeah.” Wilson says, not turning from the TV.

Wilson’s fingers are in House’s hair. Just absentmindedly stroking as he watches his movie. They look very sweet, the two of them.

He walks as softly as possible to the kitchen for some water, opening the fridge gently.

“You don’t have to worry about being quiet. He’ll sleep until I wake him up.” Wilson says.

He’s not watching the movie now, he’s staring down at House’s sleeping form with that fond smile on his face again, like House is the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. Chase can’t imagine what about the misanthropic doctor makes Wilson so happy.

As Chase passes behind the couch, heading for a shower, Wilson stops him.

“Hey, can you pass me the blanket that’s on the floor behind the couch? It’s usually over the back where I can reach it but I didn’t notice it had fallen.” He explains.

Chase grabs the blanket. It’s brown and fuzzy, very soft. He wonders how Wilson plans on getting himself under the blanket without suffocating House when Wilson tosses the blanket down the couch to cover House’s body. He isn’t totally successful though, the blanket falls at House’s knees, bunched up.

“Would you mind pulling it over him the rest of the way? When it’s on the back of the couch I can pull it down to cover him but my throwing skills need work.” Wilson says.

Chase does as he’s asked. The blanket is quite large and covers house from shoulders to feet quite easily. It occurs to him that what Wilson said implies this happens a lot - House snoozing on the couch using Wilson as a pillow.

“Thanks, he gets cold when he’s sleeping.”

“Does he usually fall asleep at 9pm?” Chase finds himself asking. Wilson chuckles.

“Sometimes. People tend to write it off, because of his other eccentricities, but he does have chronic pain. It can be pretty tiring.”

Chase momentarily feels bad. While House’s frequent Vicodin popping reminds them that House does experience pain, they tend to forget that the pills don’t make him pain free, they just keep him standing. Chase heads for the shower with this in mind.

When he’s towelling off he can hear Wilson in the other room talking to House.

“Greg, wake up.”

There is some unintelligible grumbling from House.

“I know Baby, come on. Chase is going to be out of the bathroom soon so you’ve got to get up.” Wilson’s voice is terribly gentle.

Chase runs the towel through his hair, and hears more caterwauling from House.

“You can bring the blanket with you, and I’ll still cuddle with you in the bedroom.”

Chase lets out a small laugh at that. He never would have pegged House as the cuddly type.

“My cane - it’s in the kitchen.”

The first actual words he’s heard from House. Chase is fully dressed and could walk out at any time, but he finds he doesn’t want too. He’s learned a little about them as a couple from watching them at home, but he’s curious about their interactions when he isn’t in the room.

“Just lean on me Baby.”

And Chase can’t imagine House willingly leaning on anyone to help him walk, yet the next sound he hears is the uneven gait of the two of them.

“Leg’s sore.” House says, their voices growing closer.

“You’ve just been laying down on the couch for nearly two hours, I’m not surprised. You’ve got some pills in the bedroom, we’ll get you your bedtime dose and it’ll feel a little better. I can massage it too.”

“Hmm, love you Jimmy.”

“I love you too, Greg.”

Chase is well and truly shocked. House leaning on Wilson to walk, admitting his leg is bothering him, saying ‘I love you’, it’s all so un-House like.

When he hears the door to the bedroom close, he finally leaves the bathroom to get the couch ready. The light above the stove has been left on, and he isn’t sure if it’s for his benefit or if they always leave it on.

As he arranges the bedding to his liking, and when he’s settled down he mulls over his experience with House and Wilson over the course of the evening.

He is reminded of a cat that used to live around the dumpsters near his school when he was young. It had been white at one time but it appeared more brown from the dirt the caked in it’s fur. It was a vicious thing, anytime you got anywhere neat it, it would hiss and arch it’s back. His friends liked to laugh at it, but one day after school he went back with some food for it. He felt sort of bad for the thing.

It became somewhat of a ritual and slowly the cat stopped hissing at him when he would bring the food, until one day he was able to touch it. Eventually it would roll over on it’s back and purr when he came to see it, but only if it was just him.

He tried to bring his friend to see the cat once, but despite him having food and it being only the two of them, the cat hissed and arched its back before disappearing behind the dumpster. His friend had laughed and claimed he knew that cat couldn’t like anyone. He went back after supper that night and sure enough the cat greeted him happily.

He remembers how special it made him feel, to know that cat was friendly only to him. Even if no one else would ever know, he did.

And he supposes that’s how Wilson feels about House.