#heart too big for he god damn chest

[babyleostuff]

── OLYMPICS MASTERLIST

[🌊] DISCIPLINE: SWIMMING

PAIRING: swimmer!mingyu x swimmer!fem reader GENRE: fluff, friends to lovers(ish), idiots that doesn't realise the other one is in love with them too, mingyu is a tease but also down bad WARNINGS: the reader gets hurt (hits her head, nothing too descriptive), mingyu is a hottie WORD COUNT: 3k

SYNOPSIS: what will it take for you and mingyu to finally understand that you're literally meant to be?

natalia's note: @wonijinjin the broad back and bulging biceps are for you

“i can’t do this anymore.” 

mingyu's words hit you like a speeding train. 

you quickly lifted your head from where you were looking at your fingers splashing the water, facing your best friend. 

“w-what?” you asked, horrified. “what do you mean?” 

his shoulders dropped, causing the water to ripple around your bodies, and you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you wouldn’t like what he was about to say next. 

“i can’t do this anymore. i can’t watch you lose again and again,” he sighed, and dived under the red lane line, emerging a second later right next to you. “it’s,” he took a breath, “heartbreaking.” 

with how close he was to you now you didn’t have a choice but to look up, which was stupid because come on - you were in the water. a wole ass swimming pool. like, he could literally submerge himself a little bit more and you’d be eye level, but no. kim mingyu had to flash everyone in the damn room with his godly sculptured chest and shoulders. 

you mentally scolded yourself for losing the last ounces of your dignity over a man, because why was it so hard for you to peel your eyes off his pecs? and a quiet voice inside your head was telling you that mingyu didn’t do this by accident - he knew how it affected you. but it shouldn’t. you were best friends after all. 

and best friends didn’t look at each other’s chests. and wide shoulders. and bulging biceps. 

“then stop being such a bitch, kim mingyu,” you cleared your throat, suddenly very interested in the purple “paris 2024” banners over his head. “if it’s breaking your heart then that’s your problem, not mine.”  

mingyu rolled his eyes, and quickly lifted his hand to splash water at you, making you shriek. what a shame god didn’t bless you with quicker reflexes, so you could cover your eyes at least. it was funny how people used to tell your coach that it would be for the best to split your training sessions because you didn’t get on well with each other, while in reality you got on well a bit too much. 

“uh, excuse moi?” you cringed at his horrible attempt to speak french, “you’re calling the three time world champion and two time olympic gold medalist a bitch?” he put his hand over his heart. 

“then why don’t you want to race with me anymore?” you practically whined. “are you afraid of getting beaten by a girl? would that do damage to your reputation in the olympic village?” you giggled at his unamused stare. “i’m sure the gymnasts would be very disappointed to find out you’re not as big and strong as they thought,” you pouted at him, mockingly. 

“i told you baby, i don’t want to see you lose again, simple as that” mingyu put his hand on your shoulder. “can’t you race against ava or liv?” 

you weren’t sure if it was better to go underwater or to call for the medics at this point. this infuriatingly hot man just called you baby for god’s sake and he had his hand placed so close to your neck it felt as if he was cradling it. luckly you could blame the cold water for your shivering. the worst part - you were 99% sure you saw him make out with alexa before going to paris, so all of the sweet words and gentle touches were platonic. 

they meant nothing. 

which… were you even surprised? the hottest guy making out with the hottest girl on the team. both multiple champions. both insanely talented. 

still, you wouldn’t give up, and that definitely wasn’t because of your delusions that you could pull the hottest and the best swimmer on the continent, but because you didn’t want to lose your best friend.

“you’re not fooling me, kim mingyu. i think you’re just scared of me beating you.” 

he scoffed, and finally lowered himself into the water. thank heavens. “okay then. what do you say about one last race to finish this training off?” mingyu said, and sent you a challenging look, which he knew would rile you up even more. 

“deal,” you shook his extended hand. “but don’t come crying to me when you lose.” 

“as you wish, my queen,” he bowed his head, and snickered. “but-,” 

“no buts,” you cut him off. 

“ah, ah,” he pointed a finger at you. “if you lose you have to take a bath in the seine.” 

sometimes you wondered why exactly you had a crush on him because stuff like these reminded you he was only a man. more like a man-child, but that was if you wanted to be nitpicky. 

“that’s illegal, you moron.” 

you swore you’d drown him one of these days.

with the goggles over your eyes you swam under the lane line to have a whole lane for yourself, because there was no way you’d fit in one lane with mingyu. 

“okay champ, let’s see-,” suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“je suis désolé, mais tu dois sortir de l'eau. les préparatifs pour la course vont bientôt commencer,” one of the volunteers was crouching by the edge of the pool with his hand outstretched in your direction. 

“uh,” you shot mingyu a quick look, “i’m sorry, je ne comprends pas.” i don’t understand. the only french you managed to learn before coming to paris, which you figured would come in handy, and as it turned out - it did. a point for you. 

“the competition,” the guy scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to find the right words. “begin soon.” 

“do you want us to get out of the pool?” mingyu asked, pointing at him and you and then the outside of the pool. 

“yes, yes,” the volunteer nodded quickly. 

well, you could wave your race bye bye. 

maybe the universe didn’t want you and mingyu together, maybe all you were destined to be was friends? besides, one silly race wouldn’t make a difference, if anything, it would probably lead to you pulling a muscle, which would mean a big disaster with your eliminations right around the corner. 

your fate was to end up alone for the rest of your life, crying over a guy you could never have. typical. 

“shit,” mingyu sighed, taking off his goggles. “i really wanted to race you.” 

you sent him a quick smile, dismissing his teasing tone. the quicker you’d realise this wouldn’t work out the better for your poor heart. 

“yeah, that’s a bummer,” you said, grabbing onto the edge of the pool to pull yourself up. 

mingyu grinded his teeth and side eyed the volunteer. if it weren't for the dozens of people around you who were clearly starting to prepare for the race, he would have thrown the guy into the water with his own bare hands. 

“thanks for being a cockblock, dude.”

well, not literally, but this had to be the first time mingyu managed to talk to you without stuttering every other word and not acting that embarrassing. but no. someone had to sweep in and take this away from him. 

“be careful,” mingyu ran a hand over his face, and looked over to you, “the tiles might be slippery.” 

“you don’t say,” you said, and shot him a glare. “im not that-.” 

but before you could finish your sentence one of your hands slipped and you lost the grip, splashing back into the pool. 

“hey, hey,” mingyu immediately swam up to you, closing the gap between your bodies in seconds. “are you okay?” he put his arm around your waist, turning you around in his grip so you’d face him. 

shit.

“did you hit your head?” he asked quickly, taking off your cap. fuck, mingyu felt his lunch creeping back into his throat. if anything happened to you… 

“mhm, i think so,” you answered, disoriented. your vision was clearly unsteady and you were shaking in his embrace, though he didn’t know if that was due to the cold water or the hit. 

“fuck,” he muttered, running his hand gently over your head to look for any cuts or bruises. “we need to get you out of the water.” 

you nodded your head slowly, but that was a bad call, because it only made you more nauseous and made your vision even worse. 

“hey, don’t move. put your other arm around my neck and hold onto me,” mingyu said. 

“but i’m heavy.” 

“shut it or i’ll leave you here,” mingyu grumbled, and tightened his hold around you. 

with ease, as if he was born in the water, mingyu managed to get you to the edge of the pool with ladders, and called for help.

“i’m such a loser,” you mumbled, resting your head against his shoulder. “almost passing out in the middle of an olympic swimming pool,” you let out a bitter laugh, before whimpering. maybe making bad jokes right after almost cracking your skull open wasn’t a good idea. 

mingyu didn’t say anything but you could feel his body tense. 

“she hit her head on the tiles,” he said once the medics made their way over to you. 

they quickly helped him get you out of the water without causing you more pain and laid you on the stretcher. the medics whispered something between them, or maybe you were just so out of it that you couldn’t understand what they were saying, but you could clearly make out mingyu’s voice in between. 

suddenly, you felt as if you were being lifted off the ground, but your blurry vision made it impossible for you to see what exactly was going on. 

“min-mingyu?” you called out. 

“i’m here baby, don’t worry,” mingyu said, and reached for your hand, grasping it tightly so you’d know he was really right there next to you. 

“stop calling me that,” you said, your tone bossy as usual. 

“stop calling you what?” mingyu couldn’t help but giggle when he heard you scoff. good, that meant you weren’t that badly hurt. 

“baby.” 

“what if i don’t want to?” he asked, and ran a thumb over the back of your hand, smiling to himself when he felt your fingers wrap tighter around his.  

you shook your head, or at least you tried to. “then i’ll race you and if i win you’ll stop.” 

“you know i won’t let that happen,” he said softly. 

“stop messing with my heart, kim mingyu.” 

a champion, an olympics medalist, a man made of steel, and still, mingyu felt like he was melting under your gaze. your big eyes looking up at him, your soft lips parted in a slight gasp, your gentle fingers holding onto him for dear life…  

“i won’t,” he shook his head. “not until you stop messing with mine.” 

as it turned out, luckily for you, the impact didn’t cause much damage. “it caused panic more than anything else,” the doctor said. 

“so i’ll be able to race on monday, right?” you asked, twisting the rings around your fingers nervously. the olympics were something you sacrificed your whole life for - you couldn’t remember the last time you slept in, the last time you ate dinner with your family, the last time you had time for yourself, and if all of that would go to waste because of a stupid mistake… you didn’t know what you’d do. 

“don’t worry, you’ll be just fine for the race. i think your boyfriend overreacted a bit out there,” the doctor laughed. “maybe more than a bit.” 

you almost choked on the pills you were swallowing, your face burning with heat. the doctor feeding into your delusions was a big no no, and you definitely did not need that right now. 

“you might want to text him though, he was sitting outside the whole time we were running tests. had to send him back to the village,” he sighed, “he looked like a kicked puppy.” 

that was dangerous, and you needed to get out of there quickly. 

mingyu, on the other hand, couldn’t stop worrying. after the doctor sent him off, he didn’t really know what to do with himself, and he definitely didn’t know how he ended up sitting in front of the door to your room. 

god, he was being so pathetic. instead of telling you how and what he felt, he was acting like a lame highschooler trying to impress you with what? being a faster swimmer? mingyu was never good at flirting but this had to be his lowest low. 

„gyu? what are you doing here?” his head shot up, and there you were - safe and sound. no bandages, nothing. for the first time since he got out of that damn swimming pool he took in a deep, proper breath. 

“the doctor he, um…,” 

“i know.” 

“you know?”

“i know,” you nodded. why did he look so nervous all of a sudden? “shouldn’t you be at the gym? preparing for tomorrow?” 

right. the race. 

“i probably should,” more than “probably” to be honest. your trainer would most likely have killed him already if not for the fact that he was the best swimmer on the team. “but i needed to know that you were okay.” 

“you could’ve just texted, you know,” you said. why was he being so… un-mingyu?

he shook his head, and stood up to his full 6 feet 2. “let me put it this way,” he took a step towards you, “i needed to see if you were okay.”

was he really about to risk your whole friendship? all this time spent on getting to know you, your likes and dislikes, what annoyed you and how he could push your buttons to see that bright smile on your face that always made his day a bit better. he didn’t want to lose all of that. 

but… mingyu felt his hands reaching out for you on their own to make sure that you weren’t in pain anymore, to kiss any bump or scratch to make it better, to hold you close to his chest this evening and keep you safe from all the wet tiles. 

“listen,” he scratched the back of his neck. he needed to do something with his hands. “i have to tell you one thing, and please just let me say it because i don’t think i’ll have enough courage to say it ever again.” 

you nodded your head, your gaze slightly confused. 

it was now or never. 

“okay, so i know we’re technically only friends from work, but not really since we hang out otherwise, and we’ve known each other for how long now? three years? and that’s great, i love training with you, and going to competitions with you, and hanging out with you, but lately… or not lately, really. for a long time-,” 

„mingyu,” you sighed, but the boy kept on rambling. „min,” you tried again, to no avail. „gyu!” 

finally, the man in front of you fell silent, looking at you with eyes wide and mouth agape. 

“i,” you took a deep breath. you knew exactly where this was going. „i can’t do this right now,” you said, and watched the spark in mingyu’s eyes die out. “with what happened today, and the eliminations tomorrow… i just can’t deal with this right now,” god, this broke your heart. “i need some rest, and i need some sleep,” you added. “besides, i also have the relay tomorrow, so i need to focus. this is not only about me, but about the girls. i can’t let them down.”   

mingyu’s heart dropped. if he knew this would end like this, then why was he feeling so disappointed? but he couldn’t be mad at you, no. it wasn’t your fault you weren’t feeling the same, and it definitely wasn’t your fault for wanting some rest. the olympics meant so much to you, and he knew how excited you were for them - he wouldn’t take that happiness away from you. 

„of-of course,” mingyu said, though his voice, his body language, his gaze - his everything, screamed anything but „of course”. he nodded his head and shrugged. „i’ll see you later then.”

you quickly grabbed his arm before he could turn around. „gyu,” you said. „i can’t deal with this now, but i never said i couldn’t deal with this ever.” 

he was so cute, you couldn’t help but hide your smile behind your hand. with slightly dishevelled hair (probably from running his fingers through them too much), un-matching shirt and pants, which you were sure were from last season, and his mingyu smile that showed off his canines… you’d have to be stupid and blind not to have a massive crush on this man. 

„r-really?” 

you nodded your head.

“maybe we can talk about this tomorrow?” you said, and slid your hand down his arm to his hand. “after the eliminations?” 

mingyu looked down wide-eyed at your hand holding his. was this really happening? maybe he was the one to hit his head? his poor heart and fuzzy brain couldn’t actually believe that the girl he had been pining after for god knows how long was actually saying that… that she liked him back? huh, if this was a dream he hoped he’d never wake up. 

“yes,” he breathed. “we can do that.” 

“great,” you smiled, and mingyu felt his heart skip a beat. “you’ll be watching me tomorrow, right?”

“you know i will,” mingyu said, squeezing your hand, and this - your hand in his - this felt right. this was right, and this was how it was always supposed to be. “i always do.” 

and then he did something that almost knocked you off your feet. 

he quickly closed the gap between you, pushing your body gently against the door behind you, and placed a soft peck on your cheek. you almost didn’t notice how his strong arm had snuck around you, holding your waist in a featherlight touch that didn’t quite match his strong hands and big biceps, or how the other one cradled the side of your face, and how his thumb stroked your cheek. almost.

and it was only a kiss on the cheek. 

“good luck, baby.”

[preqwells]

downtime | logan howlett x reader

summary: logan had been meaning to show you the wooden cabin he'd visit when given the time— he didn't anticipate how enraptured he'd be with the the absence of chaos in his life

cw: slightly suggestive

domesticity looked good on logan in your eyes.

chopping wood for the fire you two would burn at night, making sure the weeds didn't interfere with the tomatoes you had been growing, and sometimes even fishing despite his lack of patience for it. his jeans hung low around his waist, hair speckled across his chest through his open-collared shirt—you had to admit, you liked this side of him. you two had decided you wanted to get away for a while since logan wasn't particularly needed at the moment. he had been wanting to show you the cabin he frequented when he wasn’t busy, daydreaming to himself with the thought of what your reaction would be to it. you weren't surprised at the nature of the wooden cabin. it was secluded and neatly tucked away in a corner of a vast forest that no one would dare to enter unless they were in for a rude awakening. maybe you were kidding yourself with the idea that you two might be able to go off-grid for a while, but it was a thought you both were willing to entertain.

you smiled to yourself as your eyes tore away from the much-welcomed sight of your boyfriend leaning back on the couch, hulking thighs spread as his head lolled back. your attention trailed back to the deer he had caught earlier in hopes you could do something with it. "should i slow-cook it? maybe even make it into a pot roast?" you suddenly spoke up from the kitchen, your lips pursed in thought as a lighthearted scoff left him, his eyebrow quirking up for a moment. "askin' the wrong person. never been known to be much of a chef, sweetheart." he gruffed out, too tired to allow his eyes to roll into the back of his head at the thought of even picking up on anything remotely related to cooking. "mm, you're right," you said through a small chuckle, your eyes still examining the raw meat, "could always just set up the grill out back. chop it up, make 'em into kebabs… but we don't have any skewers. if only there was something that we could use…" you playfully trailed off as you pressed your index finger to your lower lip as if conjuring a thought. logan quickly caught onto the fact that you were talking about using his claws as kebab skewers to which he shook his head in response, shooting you an amused glance.

he rose to his feet, floorboards groaning under his weight with each movement. "ha-ha, you're hilarious. damn near a comedian." he retorted as he made his way to you, placing his empty beer bottle on the counter before his arms wrapped around you, giving you a small squeeze. his front pressed to your back, your heart fluttering at the sudden contact. the contours of his muscles molded into your frame nicely, warmth emanating from him as his breath fanned against the nape of your neck. "well… i was thinking about signing up for the local comedy club. could be my big breakthrough, y'know?" you sighed in faux contemplation as you felt the softness of his lips pepper kisses from your nape to your pulse-point, his hands lingering on your waist. his thumbs found the belt loops in your jeans, tugging on them absentmindedly. "y'right, bet the squirrels and mornin' birds would love to hear the material you been practicin' on me." he murmured into your skin, eyes fluttering shut as he deeply inhaled your scent. seeing as how sensitive he was to scents, there were lots of scents he couldn't stand. hated the smell of gasoline, hated any kind of gaudy perfume— if he thought about it for too long, his nose would probably scrunch up out of disgust. yet he was particularly fond of your scent, fresh linen and cotton. your scent was as pleasing as your personality. you were good for logan. kind, compassionate— you smoothed out his rough edges. god knew he had too many.

domesticity looked good on you in logan's eyes. the wood you'd carry to the fire pit for your late-night chats recounting the events of the day, the tomatoes you'd complain about that wouldn't ripen and sometimes even fall off too early from local wildlife taking their swipes at it, and your insistence on him learning some proper patience for fishing since you still had a taste for wild-caught salmon. his hands found the hem of your flannel, sliding under the fabric as his fingertips grazed the softness of your skin, traveling down past your navel. warmth flooded your cheeks as a sheepish smile played at the corners of your lips, your hands on the counter to brace yourself. "logan— logan! i still have to marinate the meat." you hastily whispered before a breathy moan escaped you as his tongue rolled over your skin, teeth nipping at the crook of your neck. "mmm, don't worry 'bout it." he spoke into your neck before gently lifting you onto the counter, his eyes filled with affection. he didn't know how it happened, honestly. couldn't pinpoint it even if he tried to recall what you did that caused him to be so smitten with you. he quietly admired you for a few moments, taking in how hues of orange from the sun setting filtered through the window and cascaded onto the side of your face, his hand raising to cup the swell of your cheek. you didn't know it, but logan had made a quiet vow to himself to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe, in this life and the next.

he'd show you tonight how much he adored you, in more ways than just one.

[rhysazriel]

When the Sun Rose [Azriel]

SUMMARY: After a drunken night of gentle kisses and truths spilled, when morning arrives, Azriel has no recollection of his earlier admittances. (1.4k)

WARNINGS: it’s pretty angsty, but nothing major!!

A/N: this is a rewrite of an old piece. It’s unlikely I’ll write a second part but I might be open to the possibility in the future. Sometimes I just love an angsty ending hehe

You’d seen him drunk plenty of times before. Been the one to race shots down your throat with him and later help him sober up before morning. You’d seen him in a lot of states before, you supposed that was just what came with being his best friend.

Best friend.

The thought caused a silent sad laugh to rumble in your stomach. You realised the sad truth that you were in love with him almost a year ago. Realised that the butterflies in your stomach and blush on your cheeks were more than just shyness when you gained his full attention.

But in the years you’d known of your feelings, you’d watched him have fling after fling, fuck after fuck, and come back to you in the mornings to gush about what position he had them in and how many times he made them cum with his fingers and mouth.

Tonight was a little different, though. Azriel had his hands all over you, his lips pressed against every spot of your neck and his hands gripping every inch of your waist. It had never been you beneath him in his bed, but tonight it was and you couldn’t believe it was finally happening.

He palmed at your chest beneath your shirt and tweaked your nipples deliciously. Your head rolled back into the pillow, fingers tangled in his dark hair and you tugged generously at the locks.

Azriel grunted into your neck, nosing up your jaw and smearing his lips against yours. “I‘m in love with you... love you, so fucking much,” he admitted breathlessly.

You could feel your heart leap in your heaving chest. Could feel your veins burst starlight into your bloodstream. You pulled his face back with both palms cupping his cheeks and scanned his eyes.

His skittish shadows wrapped around you both, gentle whispers that you couldn’t decipher but they only made him grin wider. Azriel nudged your nose with his, that floating feeling returning to your mind in full force. There was no way this was happening.

“You are? Please tell me you’re being serious… I’ve been in love with you for years,” you confessed back, ignoring the way the admission lifted a huge weight off your chest and Azriel was kissing you again, hard and tender.

And as quickly as it started, it ended. You fell asleep in each other's arms—you wearing your underwear and Az’s shirt and him in just his boxers. It was when the sun rose and he stirred from his slumber that his foggy mind tried to put the puzzle pieces together.

It wasn’t his room and there was the weight of a small female on his side. Azriel thought he’d just had another one night stand that clearly wasn’t worth remembering. But he noticed the hair colour and style and when he craned his neck, he realised who was half naked in his arms.

Azriel leapt from the bed in shock, eyes wide and his sudden movement startled you awake. His shadows skittered around him, alert and confused by their master's actions. It was when you stretched beneath the covers that he realised your outfit—or lack thereof and he thought the worst.

“Oh, shit,” he cursed blindly, hands dragging down his tired face and he couldn’t deal with a headache this big. You blinked away the slew and stared at him with furrowed brows, stuttering out a laugh. “Morning to you, too,” you rasped.

Azriel’s eyes were still blown wide and he didn’t understand how you were being so nonchalant. You’d never cuddled half naked before, never even shared a bed. Yes, you’d been best friends and extremely close, but a situation had never arisen where you’d had to share a damn bed.

“What are you... oh Gods, please tell me we didn’t... you know...” he gestured between you both and some sort of realisation began to well in your eyes. He didn’t remember.

You shook your head with a nervous laugh. “No, I mean we kissed a bit but that’s it... we just slept cuddling,” you explained, a faint smile on your face and Azriel took a deep breath.

You supposed it was him coming to terms with the fact that you finally kissed and you knew how he felt. At least, that was what you thought.

There was still panic on his face and he squeezed his eyes shut, taking another deep breath. “Did I like... say anything to you that I normally wouldn’t have said? Like I normally wouldn’t have kissed you,” he stared at your worry stricken face as a blush rose to your cheeks.

You stifled a laugh. “I mean, you did tell me that you’re in love with me,” you reminded him, a teasing smile on your lips and you expected him to grow bashful and throw himself on the bed, begging that he didn’t mean to admit it and that it was okay if you didn’t feel the same way.

You thought he just forgot how you both expressed your requited love.

But Azriel didn’t grow bashful and nervous. Instead, his marred hands were in his raven hair and he was groaning at himself. “I’m sorry. I say stupid shit when I’m drunk like that and I’m sorry, that must’ve been awkward for you.” He apologised, rubbing at his face.

His shadows cooed around his neck and face, seemingly attempting to console their master and coax him into a calmer state. You wondered if they were whispering reassurance that you loved him too.

You crawled across the bed, gentle smile on your lips and you were about to tell him to stop worrying, that you were in love with him too, but you stopped in the middle of the bed when he looked at you with a careful look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

“Why would it be awkward?” You asked with a slight tilt of your head. You thought Az was going to tell you he was certain you didn’t love him back, but he frowned you instead, like his reasoning was the most obvious thing and let out a soft laugh.

“‘Cause I’m obviously not in love with you. Can’t imagine how awkward I’d feel if you told me you were in love with me but I didn’t know you were just shit-talking while you’re drunk,” he laughed comically but from his words, you felt your heart sink to your stomach and you thought you might be sick.

Your chest was tight and your head was spinning. You could physically feel the heartache in your fingertips and your entire body was buzzing in a numbing rage. You wanted to cry, could feel your throat swelling but you didn’t trust yourself to say anything without breaking down.

You cleared your throat and let off an awkward laugh. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. You thought he meant it, thought your life was coming together, thought you’d finally feel loved. But it was all a lie.

He didn’t love you.

“Oh, yeah,” you mumbled, a frown on your lips. Azriel didn’t see it, though. He was too busy throwing another shirt on and shoving his legs in a pair of trousers from the night before.

Everything felt numb when he looked back at you with the normal cheeky glimmer in his eyes. His shadows had split in half. Some with him, swirling in agitation, and the others with you as they coiled around your cool skin in some offering of comfort.

And as you stared at his lips, you could feel them back on yours again, how they caressed your pout and offered you a sense of home and warmth.

You let yourself bask in the memory for as long as you could, because you knew you’d never get it again. You let the reality of the situation sink in. Let it sink in that not only did he not love you last night when he said he did, that not only did he not love you now, but that he never would.

And you let yourself hurt. Hurt because the love of your life would never feel the same, and you’d learned that in the most impossibly painful way. Because for a fleeting moment, you thought you knew what it felt like to be loved by him. But then the sun rose and so did the truth.

Now you prayed to the Mother that he didn’t one day remember what really happened that night. Prayed that his shadows would hold some loyalty to you and keep it your secret.

But when Azriel left your bedroom, they slithered out the door too.

Like nothing had happened.

Like they didn’t take your heart with them.

Thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed it, please give it a like and reblog!! <3

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[foli-vora]

once again in your arms

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: mwahah, hello boys i’m baaack (10 points to whoever knows what movie that quote's from). took an unexpected break coz life, but i’m ready to get back on track. this was requested by a beautiful anon a while back (sorry for the wait angel), but i hope you enjoy! x

Request: hello! so this is kinda angsty: joel and the reader are married and have a baby (plus sarah, obviously). the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, birth and having a baby, domestic fluff, angst, pre and post outbreak, some spoilery things if you haven’t seen the show yet, heartbreak, loss of a child, apocalypse things, i sweat at the idea of caring for a baby during the end of the world, soft reunions, fluff, cameos of my fave oc’s made in a different series

It’s a fact you had learnt in the very early days of your relationship... the Miller men knew how to care for a lady. Whether it was Tommy sliding in to open the door for you before you could reach for the handle, or Joel draping you in blankets and taking on the responsibility of keeping your hot water bottle warm to fend off cramps for the evening, not a moment went by when you didn’t feel the constant reassurance of their care.

Especially now, fresh from the hospital and tender from your days of excruciating pain and an extensively long labour, Tommy quickly slaps the pillows into something plusher, hands gentle as they guide you down until you’re reclining into the armchair.

Joel keeps an eye on you from across the room, the brief wash of concern slipping away with the easy smile that grows along his lips when your eyes meet.

He rocks the wrapped bundle in his arms softly, a big hand dwarfing the small head that peaks from the blankets. His fingers brush through the light smattering of hair peeking out from the cotton burrito, his index running along the tiny peak of a nose and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“Dad,” Sarah whines with an eager smile, shifting restlessly on the couch, “come on, I’ve been waiting all weekend.”

“Oh my god,” Joel drawls sarcastically, “all weekend? Baby girl, how are you survivin’ right now?”

“Shut up,” her grin widens, “give me my baby brother before I explode.”

“Well, we don’t want that mess all in the livin’ room,” Joel quips, stepping over your weekend bags tossed on the floor and closer to the couch, “ain’t treadin’ your brain all into the rug—thing was damn expensive.”

Sarah shrugs, readjusting her body to sit straighter and holding her arms out expectantly, “Least I have a brain.”

Tommy snorts in amusement, grinning at his brother's expense, “That’s true.”

“Are you still here?” Joel side eyes him, barely fighting the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

They bicker, throwing their little snippy sibling comments back and forth before Sarah clears her throat, her eyebrows rising in impatience.

“Alright, alright. Here, watch his head,” Joel instructs gently, a smile playing along his lips, “that’s it, baby, you got him.”

It’s a beautiful picture, Sarah carefully bringing the baby closer and tucking him carefully into her arms, and the sentiment is shared with Tommy as the flash and click of a camera goes off. He removes the polaroid sliding from the slot and sits it on the coffee table to develop before instructing Joel to slide in next to her and smile.

Both Joel and Sarah are oblivious to his instruction, lost in the bubble that has overcome them. You find peace watching them, warmth spreading along your limbs by the sweet tenderness of it all. The love is clear between the three of them cuddled on the couch, and it’s almost too much for your heart to bear.

Sarah beams down at her baby brother, cooing soft words and stroking a gentle finger down Matthew’s cheek. Joel throws an arm to rest on the top of the couch behind Sarah, turning into her and answering her questions quietly.

8 pounds, 3 ounces. Smaller than you. No, he didn’t cry at all—gave me and the docs a damn heart attack. She sure did a great job. 

Your Joel was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the emotion shines from his eyes, bleeds through the lines in his face and it’s enough to bring tears building along your lash line.

“You okay over there?”

His familiar drawl brings your attention to him, and you smile at him, tired and fully at peace. It’s bliss, despite the ache of birth still hanging in your limbs. M

“I’m fine,” you respond quietly, lids heavy with exhaustion, “I’m just so happy.”

He fucking beams. His grin creases his cheeks and he nods softly.

“Me too, honey,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his children and playing with a strand of Sarah’s hair as he gazes down at Matthew, “me too.”

—

Four months later.

Chaos.

Matthew wails against your chest, the deafening sounds of screams, bullets, sirens and explosions setting him off into hysterics. Your arms tighten around him, keeping his face tucked closely into your throat so your scent could hopefully provide him some reassurance.

You crouch beside cars, you run until your legs ache. You take cover in stores, the soles of your shoes crunching over broken glass of the shattered windows. Every phone you try gives nothing but a dull tone. Radios are filled with static and emergency broadcasts play on the view screens you run past in your effort to escape whatever the hell is happening.

Worry stirs along the edges of your mind. Is Joel okay? Sarah? Tommy? You can’t call him, you can only run and hope nothing takes you down in your effort to get back to your car. You pass people crouched over others, blood smearing along their lips as they tear unforgivingly into the flesh of another.

It’s a nightmare, and it’s everywhere you look.

Almost there.

You see the sign of the parking lot and it only makes you run that much faster, even though your legs threaten to give out at any minute. You pass an elderly man crouching beside a woman, blood flowing from the open gash on her throat, and the ache clutching your heart only increases when his pleas reach your ears over the mayhem.

“Gloria,” he mutters in an aged rasp, “up you get, love. You’re alright, come on now—”

You can’t help it.

Somewhere in your mind you can feel Joel screaming at you to keep running, to get yourself to safety and not give a damn about anyone other than Matthew, but the image of this man cradling his wife’s wrinkled, bloodied hand is enough to get you advancing to him before anyone could hurt him. 

“Sir—”

He ignores you, too busy with brushing the woman’s blood soaked white hair from her face.

“Sir, we have to move—”

You wrap your fingers around his shoulder and shake firmly. His head gives a shake of denial as he clutches his wife’s hand tighter.

“No… no, she’ll need help—she has a bad ankle.”

Shifting Matthew unsteadily onto your hip, your fingers wrap under his arm and tug him onto his feet. He fights you, bats your hold away with an infuriated expression at your rough handling of him.

“I’m so sorry, but she’s gone—we have to run. I—I have a car, please… just come with me, please!”

“I won’t leave her—”

“Please… they’re coming! I—would she want this for you? To die like this?”

He blinks, his frown softening ever so slightly before screams pierce the air, much closer than you anticipated, and terror claws up your throat until you feel you’ll vomit.

You hold out a hand, relieved when his own rough, calloused hand finally takes it, and then you’re running, albeit slower than before, but you make it to your car with no issues.

You dive into the driver's seat, passing Matthew over to the stranger when he makes an impatient gesture to hold him and then you’re tearing out of the lot, running down the few rabid looking beings that advance on you with bloodied expressions of hunger.

You don’t think you take a proper breath until you’re past a military barricade that had seemingly been destroyed in the attack, flying down the highway and around other panicked drivers with sweat slicking your skin. 

Taking a deep breath to slow the brutal pounding of your heart, you look at Matthew, now calmed and looking up at the stranger with an obvious shine of curiosity. The old man is clearly softened by the baby, letting his small hand wrap around his finger and wiggling it playfully in his hold.

“That’s Matthew,” you mutter shakily, meeting the eyes of the elderly man before gazing back out the windscreen. You take another breath before giving your own name, tears biting at your eyes when you utter the name Miller.

Do you still have a husband? A step daughter? A brother in law? The unknown scares you, outright fucking terrifies you. 

The man nods in your peripheral vision.

“Harold,” he finally says, voice rough and tired.

—

There are people everywhere, screaming, crying.

People run, shout, wail over family and friends.

Tears have long dried on his face, his head thumping relentlessly with the remnants of his heartbreak. Tommy’s grip is firm on him, tugging him out of the way of people tearing down in their direction, pulling him to where a makeshift table is thrust under a tent as a reception of sorts.

He doesn’t care about the people already there asking about their family and friends. He shoves them out of the way, hands shaking as they clutch the edge of the weak table.

“I’m lookin’ for a woman… she’d be with a baby boy, not even four months old—”

His voice shakes. He can’t get it to stop. He struggles to get out the detailed descriptions of you both down to the clothes you were wearing, speaking your names through trembling lips. His stomach jolts at the thought of you somewhere, lying helplessly on the floor with your flesh getting torn into while Matthew screams in his car seat.

He’s a damn baby. He wouldn’t know what’s happening, wouldn’t know why his mama’s not there with him—

The woman gives a small expression of sympathy over the thin surgical mask covering her mouth, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had no babies that young come through, and nothing like that has come in over the radios.”

He retches. 

His body heaves, almost as if it’s rejecting the mere idea that you weren’t somewhere safe waiting for him. He had failed. Failed to keep Sarah safe, failed to keep Matthew safe, you—the vows he had made now meant shit. He hadn’t been there for better or worse. He’d hadn’t done what a father should have and kept his kids free from harm.

Sarah had died, terrified and in agony, in his hold. Her bloodied handprints remain dry and caked on his arms. Matthew had died, not even making it to six months. A baby, still fresh to the world, only just able to hold his own head up. You had died, not knowing where he and Sarah were, if they were even safe.

Tommy hauls him to a close trash can, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back as he chokes on vomit, tears soon streaming down his cheeks when his body eventually has nothing left to give. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering against his ribs and filling his ears until he’s unaware of the noises around him. 

“They’re gone,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching at the rim of the trash can in an effort to keep himself up.

“Now we don’t know that—”

“God damn it, Tommy, you saw what it was like out there!” 

Tommy sighs, his own eyes filling with tears. “We gotta keep hope, Joel—”

“Hope?” Joel spits at his brother, “What good is hope against that shit out there? She would’ve been alone, you know as well as I Matthew only would’ve slowed her down. They were in the city. We couldn’t even keep safe out here! They’re—they’re gone. My wife… my baby boy, my baby girl—”

The sobs tear from his chest, harsh and painful. He mourns for hours, unseeing of the flurried movement still happening around him, his sorrow mixing with the flood of agony filling the makeshift safe zone with every new unhurt civilian looking for someone familiar.

Tommy doesn’t take his arms away from around his brother until dawn starts to pierce the horizon, 

—

Two years later.

He still fills your thoughts daily.

Your life, your old life, would flash behind your eyelids at night when sleep would finally claim you. You’d feel his touch, kiss his lips, touch his face. It all felt so normal. The dreams would be nothing but memories, and somehow, it made them feel more like nightmares.

Mornings making breakfast with Sarah, dancing to the music falling from the radio. Family game nights, watching Tommy and Joel get more and more competitive with each game. Grocery shopping with Joel, simply wandering down the aisles and relishing in his comforting touch warming your lower back. 

You could never quite make peace with the possibility that he was dead. It didn’t sit right. The idea that your Joel had been lost to the disaster that had claimed the world just seemed impossible. Your heart rejected the notion, refused to accept that its counterpart wasn’t somewhere out there, living, breathing, surviving,

Sarah and Tommy, too.

They had to be somewhere, holed up safely and keeping well. They had to.

“They’ve established a quarantine zone close by,” you say quietly, mindful of Matthew sleeping on your lap, “it’ll be a lot safer there than out here. I think we should give it a go… find a more secure place to live. I’ve heard they have work available, good flow of food and medicine…”

Harry snorts quietly, shifting under his old, thick jacket, “That doesn’t mean they’re happy giving it out. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

You eye the long carved frown in his features and lean forward to fix the blanket covering his tired legs, “Don’t you think we should try at least?”

“Maybe they’ll put a bullet in me,” Harry grumbles moodily, “I’m old—I can’t work like they’ll want me to. Although, it’ll beat living through this bloody nightmare any longer.”

“Harold,” you chide softly, heart aching at the thought of losing the grumpy old man after spending so long by his side.

He’d quickly become a grandfather figure of sorts, to both you and Matthew. The little boy was obsessed with him, and had been since the day you had come together, and though he tried to hide it behind his usual icy facade, Harry was smitten, weak from the boy learning to call him pa.

“He’ll be safer in there,” Harry finally grumbles, gazing at the sleeping toddler. “This is no life for him out here. It’s getting worse and worse. Stability will do him good.”

“And you’ll come with us?”

He sighs sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine—I’ll come. But if they don’t kill me, I’ll be bloody upset with you.”

You snort in amusement, a grin curling your lips. “Fair enough. Now drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry. You have it.”

He shoves it away, pushing it in your direction, as he usually does. It’s a daily fight—him refusing food in favour of giving you and Matthew more, ensuring you both never went hungry despite his own hunger and rapid weight loss due to the sudden lack of food.

You give him a playful frown and hold the small cup out to him.

“Don’t make me force feed you, old man, drink it.”

—

The walls of the Quarantine Zone are a lot more daunting than you had originally thought they would be. They tower high, and the barely there movement of soldiers along the front and top of it have nerves start to build in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Surely they wouldn’t shoot without asking questions? Would they even give you a chance? What happens to you if the zone is full? Would they let you go on your merry little way?

God, you feel sick. 

The ice creeping along your skin doubles, and you tighten your grip on the baby carrier strapped to your chest. Matthew hums quietly against your back, his little fingers tracing random patterns along your shirt as he bounces with your each step. Harry walks somewhat steadily beside you, his cheeks reddening with the more distance you cover.

He gives you a reassuring nod when you look to him for guidance, and you continue forward, swallowing the lump building in your throat when you become aware of them yelling about your presence.

Their guns are raised when you eventually make it closer, and it’s automatic to throw your hands up in surrender.

“We’re not infected!” you shout, hoping they’d listen. 

A soldier steps forward. “On the ground, now!”

“Shit. Okay! Please, I—we’re not infected—”

“Get. On. The. Ground!”

“I have a kid! I have a—please, we’re not—”

“Get the kid out.”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You fight the tremble in your fingers as they raise to the clip across your chest, winding a supportive hand around to your back to keep Matthew from falling out of the carrier as it loosens from your torso.

After a bit of shifting, Matthew stands on shaky legs, his eyes darting between you and the few soldiers with their weapons raised.

“It’s okay, baby,�� you soothe softly, “we gotta do what the man says, okay? Can you do that for mama?”

You continue to lower until your front hits the rubble covered ground, and you motion for Matthew to do the same, heart breaking as he cowers in fear and falls to his knees before copying your posture and hiding his face against the road.

More voices fill your ears, the obvious presence of more soldiers swarming from the gate causing your pulse to skyrocket as Harry lowers on the other side of the small toddler.

“Check ‘em.”

“Everything’s fine,” you murmur, keeping your gaze on Matthew and smiling when he peeks at you from between his fingers, “we’re okay. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It stings.

You automatically flinch away from the device someone holds at your neck, freezing when more weapons are raised in your direction. The device gives a small beep and the soldier gives a loud clear, before moving for Matthew.

He cries out at the pain, his chest heaving with his growing sobs. The guns move in his direction and you’re flying towards him before you can even think, yelping when arms pull you away from your baby before you can console him. His screams worsen. 

“Please,” you beg, “he’s just a baby—!”

The soldiers remain emotionless.

Another beep, another clear.

The fingers digging into your arms loosen and then you’re free, hurriedly crawling on all fours until Matthew’s in your arms, his tear stricken face pressing into your throat. You soothe him softly, murmuring how well he did and that he’s safe with you while the soldiers move their attention to Harry.

When the device gives a final clear, another soldier steps forward, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping forward until he’s only a step away, “but we can’t be too careful.”

It’s surreal being around people again.

For the longest time, it’s just been you, Matthew and Harry. The people left after the event had turned cruel, desperate for any remaining resources and resulting to violence left, right and centre. It’d been sheer luck that you three had escaped some of the nastier characters you’d come across during your treks. Sure, you’d lost a few supplies every now and then, but you were thankful you all were still here at least.

The man leads you into an office of sorts, with rusted old chairs to sit on while he goes about ‘registering’ you. You’re surprised at the process of it all, confused when he says you’re in luck because after this morning, there are new rooms available. What does that mean? Had something happened to the occupants?

Your stomach turns, but you dare not dwell on it.

Safety for Matthew, that’s all that matters. That’s why you’re here.

It feels like hours before you’re stepping into the sun again, lead out onto a relatively normal looking street with written directions to your new accommodation. The door bangs loudly behind you, fully closing you from the horrors of the outside world, and you try not to focus on the looks of curiosity, borderline hostility, as you start to walk further into the QZ, the height of the wall casting a large shadow over your path.

There’s a main square of sorts, filled with small stations of people selling various items. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of shitty looking food, desperate to eat something other than the random old bits and pieces you’d find through your looting, but you’d have to begin work to even afford a single half burnt bread roll. The two ration cards you had received at your ‘registration’ wouldn’t make a dent in what you’d need to afford any of it.

You pass the sellers, sharing a sullen look with Harry as he too realises he wouldn’t have enough for any of it.

There’s crowds, and you try to keep to yourself as you move, but something catches your eye, as if your sight had been automatically pulled to that direction and you’re oblivious to the people bumping into your frame.

For a moment, you’re sure you’re dreaming.

Did they end up shooting you at the gate? This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be unfolding right before your very eyes. You feel alive. You feel your pulse, your breath. You feel Matthew shift in the carrier, you hear Harry making comments about the people and the surrounding buildings.

You can’t look away.

You’re pulled in his direction, certain with every bone in your body that it’s him. It’s him.

The man turns, and his eyes are meeting yours through the crowds before you can even brace for it, and you see the moment it hits him.

He freezes, his eyes unblinking as if they don’t want to risk losing the hallucination his mind had conjured. He steps forward, and again, and again, slow in his movements, cautious.

“Joel?” You breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the bustle of your surroundings and the distance between you, but he must see your lips mould his name because then he’s running, ducking through the people and heading straight your way.

You start to jog, careful not to disturb the carrier holding Matthew too much, and then he’s there. He’s there and he’s real and he’s saying your name so sweetly, a broken rasp of disbelief and a tremble taking over his hands as they raise to cup your cheeks.

You sob at his touch. 

The tears flow from your eyes and you grasp at whatever you can on him, your fingers tightening around the jacket hanging from his frame as you attempt to pour two years of loss into your embrace. He cradles the back of your head, keeps your face pressed tightly against the dirtied skin of his throat as he mutters brokenly about how he thought you were dead and that he’d missed you so damn much.

“Oh baby boy,” he rumbles, noticing the baby carrier and the toddler within it with tears filling his lash line, “look at you.”

You hurriedly unclip the harness and sweep Matthew out of it, bringing him into the middle of your embrace. Joel runs a hand along Matthew’s cheek before sweeping down and kissing him on the forehead, his tears dropping over the toddler’s cheeks in obvious relief and utter joy. 

“How—”

You shake your head, nuzzling into the rough hand holding your cheek. “Later. We’ll talk later about everything, I just—god, I’ve missed you so fucking much, Joel.”

His head lowers until his forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes flutter closed. You feel it in the simple gesture, how much he had missed you, mourned for you. He gives a small nod, followed by a quiet okay, before another presence suddenly makes themselves known.

Your body jolts with the weight hitting your side, and you jump in fright before your eyes come across a slightly skinny looking Australian Shepherd desperate for attention.

His tongue lolls from his mouth as he attempts to lap at your cheek, and you chuckle through your stream of steady flowing tears at the cheerful dog.

“Chip,” Joel grunts in slight annoyance, shoving the fluffy beast away from where he tries to jump and sniff at Matthew’s cheeks, “down—down, boy!”

“You have a dog?” You ask in curiosity, reaching out to pet the animal. Your smile widens when he eagerly nuzzles into your touch with an excited whine.

“He was wanderin’ the QZ when I came in,” Joel replies, one of his hands leaving your waist to deliver a rough rub to the dogs head, “followed me home one night and hasn’t stopped botherin’ me since. Tommy said he’d be good for me.”

“Tommy’s here? And Sarah?” You perk immediately in excitement, your eyes flying past his shoulder to look for his brother and the other part of your heart that’s been missing for years. “I’m so glad they’re alright, where are they?”

You don’t notice how considerably quiet he’s gone until you look at him. He’s defeated, guarded, his dark eyes drawn to the floor. He can’t look at you. Why can’t he look at you? What’s happened?

“Joel?”

“Sarah… she—she—”

He struggles to finish the sentence, the words stick uncomfortably on his tongue. His features twist in clear anguish and you feel the world around you shatter. Sarah, she… she’s gone? When? How?

Your heart sinks, weak and broken by the unexpected news. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the notion that you’d never see her again, that the last time you saw her was truly the last. 

Regret begins to build in the pit of your stomach. That last day… you should’ve hugged her tighter, kissed her forehead, told her how much she meant to you and how lucky you were to be in her life—

The tears begin again.

“Oh Joel, I-I’m so sorry,”

You both share the heartache, wrapped in each other's arms and breathing in the other. His tight hold doesn’t loosen for a second, and you attempt to put every ounce of energy in your tired body into returning it.

The world stands still, just like it did that cursed day.

How can you be so elated that he’s here, and yet be filled with so much pain at the same time? How long has he been lost, no doubt blaming himself for his baby girl not making it to where he is now? You mourn her, mourn him for being lost, stuck on a path of despair and believing he had lost everything for so long.

What had become of him? What had the pain done to him? Surely it would’ve been pure torture for the man who practically breathed family. 

Harry can wait. Introductions can wait. Food, drink, sleep—you care for none of it. Not now. All that matters is that Joel is here, truly here in the flesh, wrapped in your arms and holding the child he hasn’t seen for two years. All that matters is that you had found one another in the violent hellscape the world had become.

Peace, but that tranquillity will forever be tainted by loss, a void hanging in the midst of relief, never to be filled again.

-

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tags that have continuously not worked will be deleted from my taglist soon x

[angelbwrry]

pretty boy. armin a.

cwᯓᡣ𐭩 nsfw link, virgin!armin, masterbating, cockwarming, sex outdoors, size difference, minor mention of blood as armin fucks readers throat, cum-eating, eren + connie cameo . . . or in which he can’t stop getting hard at the thought of you. mdni.

a/n ᯓᡣ𐭩 literally throbbed writing this. also if you’ve been following me for a while, i og had this as a complete story but I’ve cut it down and edited it <3

campcounselor!armin who you can’t help but gawk at. he’s fine as fuck. his blonde hair falls perfectly into his face, giving him an almost ethereal look. he’s wearing a sleeveless nirvana shirt that clings to his toned form, the fabric stretching just enough to hint at the strength beneath. his inked muscles flex as he fluidly lights his cigarette, each movement smooth and deliberate, like a well-rehearsed dance.

it’s almost mesmerizing how tendrils of white clouds spill from his pink lips, curling and twisting in the air before dissipating. the way he handles the cigarette, with such casual grace, adds an air of mystery to his already captivating presence. he’s talking to his friends, his voice a mix of warmth and authority, occasionally breaking into a deep, resonant laugh that seems to reverberate through the air, sending you clutching your legs.

campcounselor!armin who you find out is a bit shy, ironic seeing as he’s the epitome of sex on legs. yet as you’re complementing the intricate ink that litters his body his cheeks turn a soft pink, and he looks down, a shy smile playing on his lips. it's almost comical how someone so effortlessly attractive can be so bashful. his shyness only adds to his charm, making him even more intriguing and endearing.

campcounselor!armin who’s taken a liking to you. his steel blue eyes watch intently as you prance around on the dock in that tight ass bathing suit, every movement captivating him. your large tits are barely held by the flimsy fabric, and your pussy lips are practically busting out of your bikini bottoms, making it impossible for him to look away. god, you’re so fucking sexy. he could get drunk off the way you laugh, so airy and light, like music to his ears.

he almost can’t believe it when you cannonball into the lake, water splashing everywhere, and your flimsy top unties itself in the process. his heart races as he swims over to you, his hands trembling slightly as he helps tie the strings together for you, the close proximity making his breath hitch. your mango-scented hair is like a slap to the face, intoxicating and overwhelming his senses. he’s so fucking hard, he can’t stop his mind from wandering how your big glossy lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

campcounselor!armin who is trying not to lose his cool as you lay on his chest, one leg outstretched and the other tossed over his. it's exactly one week before the kids start showing up, so eren suggested a movie night. so here all of you are, squeezed into the boy’s cabin. you hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but star wars was just so damn boring. armin finds even your soft snores perfect—honestly, do you have any flaws?

he can feel your warm breath against his neck, and it's driving him insane. every slight movement you make sends shivers down his spine. he hopes he doesn’t wake you as he carefully slides from underneath your limp body, trying to be as gentle as possible. his tip is leaking from how horny he is, and he knows he has to do something about this raging boner before it gets out of hand.

armin lazily mutters an excuse to connie about going out for a smoke, his voice barely above a whisper. the buzzcut boy, too busy drawing a dick on sleeping eren’s forehead with a mischievous grin, just nods absentmindedly. armin steps outside, the cool night air hitting his flushed face as he tries to calm himself down.

campcounselor!armin who can’t calm himself with a cigarette, the thought of you is too much. “f-fuck, 𐙚⋆°.⋆♡!” his whimpers are desperate as he strokes his thick cock sore. the thought of you writhing underneath him as he pounds your sweet pussy has his head lulling back. steadying himself against the cold, graffiti-covered bathroom stall with one hand, closed fist working his twitching tip quickly. he imagines it’s your warm mouth, your lips wrapped around him, and his legs shake at the thought of you looking up at him with those big doe brown eyes as you gag on him.

he wants nothing more than to use your mouth as a pocket pussy, “such a pretty face. i wanna nut on it,” he breathes raggedly. the wetness that coats him is loud as he rubs himself, bucking his hips into his ‘o’ shaped hand. he can almost feel the heat of your breath, the slickness of your tongue. “ughhhhhh,” a loud groan echoes through the stall as hot spurts of cum spill into his hand, his eyes roll back as he continues tugging himself until he’s shaking from sensitivity.

campcounselor!armin who’s taken back by your question, ‘we should ditch, right?’ his hands fiddle with the beer can, looking like a toy in his hands. before he can respond you’re pulling the six foot two man to his feet, a couple of ooooo’s coming from the group perched around the campfire. you giggle, saluting a middle finger then locking hands with armin before you set off on a nearby trail that led to the water. it always looked magnificent this time of night, stars mirrored in the still water, moonlight bouncing off and emitting light throughout the night air.armin stumbles slightly as you pull him along, his laughter mingling with yours as you navigate the winding path.

the sounds of the campfire and your friends' voices fade into the background, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant call of night birds. the air is cool and crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth. you can hear the soft lapping of water against the shore growing louder as you approach.

“w-where are we going? we aren’t supposed to get in the water after ten,” armin stutters, and you giggle, looking over your shoulder at him. the moonlight casts a gentle glow on the lake, creating a serene and almost magical atmosphere.

“do you always follow the rules? c’mon, don’t be boring,” you say softly as you two finally make it to the wooden dock. the wood creaks under your feet, and the gentle lapping of the water against the shore adds a rhythmic background to your adventure. armin nervously bites his lip; here you are just holding his hand, and he’s hard as a rock, feeling like a teenage boy hitting puberty all over again.

“no, of course not,” he lies through his teeth, not wanting to seem like a loser. the cool night air brushes against his skin, contrasting with the warmth emanating from your hand.

you giggle, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, and he wants to desperately kiss you. you look so pretty to him, and if he wasn’t such a coward, he’d pull you into him. the reflection of the stars in your eyes makes his heart race even faster.

“you know i saw you that night, right?”

armin freezes. no . . . you couldn’t have, you were asleep. the sudden shift in conversation makes his heart skip a beat, and he feels his face flush with embarrassment.

he gulps and scratches his frizzy blonde hair sheepishly. “w-what? i really don’t know—”

you cut him off immediately, “don’t be coy, armin. i heard you in the bathroom whimpering my name.” you’d woken up a couple minutes after armin had left, rubbing your eyes groggily as you looked for the man. connie had stated he’d gone to the bathroom, and you decided to go see if he was okay, but to your surprise, when you reach the door, you can hear armin calling out your name in pleasure.

“well, that’s embarrassing… i’m mortified. i promise i’m not a creep, okay?” armin says quickly as he panics. he’s taken aback when you press your soft lips against his, a small moan emitting from his throat as he wraps his hands around you. the kiss is electric, sending shivers down his spine as he pulls you closer.

you pull back from his lips, a string of saliva following, and you swipe your thumb across his lips. you swear you can see his pupils dilate as you do that.

“have you ever had your dick sucked?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words hang in the air between you, laden with anticipation.

armin shifts in embarrassment; he’s never so much as seen a pair of boobs besides in magazines, let alone had his dick sucked. you take his non-answer as a no and slowly get to your knees, hands fumbling with the belt on his jeans. his heart races in his chest—is this really happening? is a pretty girl really about to give him head? is this a setup?

he hears your fingers unlatch the belt and your hands pull down his pants, fingers playing with the hem of his gray calvin klein boxers. you bite your lip as you look up at him through your lashes, his bright blue eyes meeting yours. the dim light of the cabin casts a warm glow, making the moment feel almost surreal. the scent of pine and campfire smoke lingers in the air, adding to the intimate atmosphere.

“what happens at summer camp stays at summer camp, okay armin?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

he nods anxiously, his breath hitching as your fingers brush against his skin.

“i’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” you assure him, your tone soft and comforting.

“o-okay,” he whispers so low you almost don’t hear it, his voice trembling with anticipation and nerves.

campcounselor!armin who’s fucking your throat relentlessly, hips rolling into your mouth at a constant speed. you hold his thighs for support as he uses you like a ragdoll, feeling the muscles tense under your fingertips. “shitttt,” he drawls, your tongue sliding across his cock greedily, tasting the salty sweat mixed with his precum. he has to bite back a moan at the sight beneath him, spit and light specks of blood covering his dick as you suck him. the moonlight casts shadows over your face, highlighting the saliva-covered mess, eyes half-lidded as your fingers circle your clit in hard motions.

“sucking me so good,” armin grunts, reveling in the shlurp sounds that fill the night air. your mouth is so tight and warm around him, it’s hard for him to keep his head from lulling back. “shit shit shit, g’na make me nut.” his voice is whiny and shaky, the way you’re fondling his nutsack has got him in pure fucking shambles. he’s so close, stomach clenching tighter each passing second. he wants to pull out, he swears he does, but fuck you’re so inviting to be inside.

“cummin’!” armin groans, hot seed spilling into your mouth, tumbling from the corners of your lips. you giggle, wiping the sticky mess off your face with your shirt. “i-uh, fuck. i’m sorry,” he stammers, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and post-orgasmic bliss. you laugh at his apology, “you’re saying sorry for cumming in my mouth?” you quip an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “uh yeah . . . guess i am.” you shake your head at his innocence, standing to your feet. the night air cools the sweat on your skin as you lean in close, whispering, “don’t be. just fuck me.”

campcounselor!armin who’s stretching your poor pussy around his thick cock, making you lose your mind. they always say big dick men are the quiet ones, but this? this is absolutely delicious. “armin,” you whimper breathlessly, feeling every powerful thrust in your tummy as he pounds into you. he's buried so deep inside you, his bulge visible each press into you. your swollen lips ache from the intensity and friction against them. you want to run but you're locked in by his grip, unable to escape. you're a mess beneath him, a drooling, crying, whimpering mess. “fuck, you’re tight as shit.” armin whimpers, the feeling of you clutching his cock almost unbearable.

campcounselor!armin who’s summer just got a whole lot better.

[almostempty]

Look at this photograph

(joel miller x f!reader)

The half sequel (Chapter 1.5) to Never made it as a wise man

WC: 3.5k | Part 1 | Other fics | Rating: 18+ 

Summary: you open Joel’s dick pic and (after examination) decide to give him a call

Note: it’s me ya boi (gn), back with more divorceddadrockdilf!joel bc you guys get me. i know y’all want them to fuck, and I want them to fuck too. unfortunately, this flowed through me first, and I am merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. 

so, until they get their freak nasty on, please enjoy this as a chapter 1.5, with gratuitous dick pic art critique and crankin’ it over the phone <3 don’t worry, he’s still a lil pathetic. mistakes and bad jokes are all on me. 

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where ch.1 ended, dick pic descriptions, alternating pov, dirty talk, phone sex, masturbation, it’s all just phone sex, but edge yourself through it with fond memories of ch. 1, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc

inspo playlist i found on spotify: Divorced Dad Rock: BANGERZ

thanks: to @hellishjoel for hosting the #hotdilfsummerchallenge and to everyone who enjoyed part 1 

@gothcsz i promise fuckboy!joel is cookin, he’s just in the crockpot rn. he’s gotta tenderize like a white lady’s pinterest recipe for pulled pork. 

* i tried to tag everyone who wanted more, but if you don’t wanna be here i’ll remove it <3 or if i missed you and you want to be tagged next time pls let me know

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” you blurt out after opening the message from Joel. The vulgar dick pic sends a prickly worm of arousal slithering down your spine. 

Without thinking, you tilt the phone down toward your chest, and your eyes shoot up like you’ve got to make sure nobody saw your naughty message. Warmth blooms on your cheeks as the flash of embarrassment starts to dissolve. You don’t need to hide. 

You’re in your bed, in your apartment, wearing Joel’s grubby Creed t-shirt. The one that smells like Degree Sport and a Jiffy Lube break room. You're free to look at all the dick pics your heart desires. And that’s what you’re going to do. 

The wiggle of bashful energy turns into a squirm as you shift your hips, seeking a comfy position in bed. The t-shirt bunches up under your back and you wonder if the unique Joel scent of it will linger on your pillow beneath your shoulders. You knew pilfering the shirt on the way out the door was a good move, and now you get to enjoy your trophy. It makes it feel like the broad-as-a-barn-door DILF himself was still close enough to touch you. 

It gives you another bright shudder when you think about the noises he made when he came in your hand earlier. The disappointed grunts of “fuck, wait” and how he tried to choke down the throaty groan that came from deep in his chest. Fuck. The perverted gremlins that have a permanent residence in your mind have been roused by the digital dick, and now they chitter and squawk at you. More! More! More!  

You reopen the message, and seeing it gives you another rush. You save the picture to your phone storage. For your personal collection. Mine now, big boy. Your chin starts to dip towards your chest. It’s like you’re giving your phone the Kubrick stare with the ghost of a smirk. You’re free to take your time with this one. And you can be as much of a creep as you want. That makes you sigh softly and sink deeper against your pillows. 

Before this afternoon, it was titillating when Joel would pop up in your mind's eye with his slutty slo-mo scenes. The one where he was bent over your car's engine like Megan Fox in that Transformers movie. Or, that damn happy trail tease with the t-shirt-sweat-rag move. You had just enough imagery to let your dirty thoughts take the wheel. 

And, god, you had a good production team in your mind for projects starring Joel. Adding this will give the team a whole lot more to work with. You can hear them crashing around your conscious like the Animaniacs on the Warner Brothers lot. Horny chaos goblin mode activated. 

Now that you have time to study the image, from the luxury of your microfiber sheets and lamplit bedroom, you let it get pervy. It’s your first real, lingering look–earlier today, you were so busy trying to rile him up in his jeans that you didn’t even pull it out.

It had somehow been even more delicious that way. Having him all needy and unable to stop himself from making a mess in your hand. And not just the noises, but the erratic thrusts into your tight fist? The heat of his pulsing length as he forgot himself? Yeah, you’re gonna remember that one. 

But now? Now you need the visual. If the devil is in the details, you have a new neighbor with horns and a tail. 

You zoom in on everything. Holding your phone closer to your face than necessary, like how do we enhance this bitch? 

And holy shit. 

Drool pools in your mouth and between your legs. You have the knee-jerk reaction to lick your phone. 

You can hear Joel’s voice from earlier today. All husky and grumbly, arguing that you really were a slut for him, like, “You are, aren’t you, though? You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt just to see me?”  He might be touch-starved enough to cream his jeans, but you just know he’s got a nasty mouth in bed, and you’ve got to find out firsthand. Soon. There’s no reason not to, right? 

You pause when a flicker of reasoning tickles the back of your neck. 

You’re back to looking in your review mirror in Joel’s driveway. The last-ditch attempt at checking your ego before you marched to his front door like a Halloween hoe bag version of Betty Crocker. 

You had told yourself you weren’t trying to fuck your (almost) friend’s (sort of) dad. Told yourself there was nothing to pursue, and even if there was, you wouldn’t bite. 

You like Ellie. She’s been (mostly) welcoming to you. You told yourself not to fuck anything up with the only person that’s got a single one of your jokes at your new job. 

You were just bringing some food as a friendly gesture. The fresh visuals to add to your spank bank reel were supposed to be a harmless bonus. Okay, maybe it was a stretch to say you had rolled up to Joel’s driveway with pure intentions. 

And it was an even bigger stretch–when he added that third finger while he finger fucked you on the kitchen counter—wait, no. It was an even bigger stretch when you had told yourself you probably weren’t his type anyway. 

Like, that guy? With the fridge full of Coors Banquet? With those ugly Oakley sunglasses that you know are featured in his only picture on social media that isn’t a car or truck? The guy with all the words to Buckcherry’s “Crazy Bitch” and Puddle of Mudd’s “She Hates Me” memorized? 

Nah, deep down, you knew. You knew there was no way that middle-aged bachelor would turn down any action. But you hadn’t planned on actually making a move, especially not a handjob in the middle of the kitchen. 

That’s on Joel for leaving the door open while trying to rub one out to some bimbo on Brazzers. And for barking at you in that sexy, angry voice. And for teasing you with the bulge in his oil-stained jeans. What were you supposed to do? 

Something must be really rotting in the logic department of your brain. 

Hey! The gremlin voice in your head is still shouting at you. Hey!! Why are we not tasting that dick yet?!! You’re back from your daydream and the excuses you crafted for your behavior, back to laying in your bed with Joel’s dick pic emitting a bright glow in your hand. 

You still do want to lick the screen. 

Fortunately for your immune system, you control your tongue. The critical part of you expels a sigh when you zoom out and take in the picture. 

It’s undoubtedly a nice cock, but the image as a whole? Yikes. 

Why do men have to be so fucking thick? And blunt? Wait, now you’re just describing the slightly blurry boner lighting up your face. Thick as in dense. How can men be so dense? 

No imagination or creativity. No patience. 

You shake your head slightly, scoffing. No wonder you caught him hunched over his cracked phone screen. It was probably the first video loaded on the only site he had saved. 

No sweet, sweet, buildup, setting the mood, or getting cozy. Just whippin’ it out midday or snapping a photo in some ratty sweats. 

Like you’ve never been that touch-starved or down bad?

You ignore that voice to continue your art critique. 

The photo you sent is… sexy. 

Sultry. A flirty tease. It says, “Look who has your shirt? Am I wearing it in bed? Do you think I'm wearing anything else?” 

It’s all implied in the look in your eye and the picture's composition. The tease of the soft curves on the underside of your breasts, asking if he remembers what they felt like. Your hand bunching up the shirt, asking if he remembers the slide of that fist around his cock. If he remembers those fingers, the ones you sucked his sticky spend off of. 

Such delicately crafted imagery. Personalized erotic fine art.  

But men are so crude about it. He sees your tasteful, sexy pic, and immediately, the best his caveman brain can come up with is: send her ur dick! STAT!! Hard cock! Now!!

And, of course, he did. Taken in the dark with the flash on, making ominous shadows in the background. His old charcoal gray sweats are pulled down just enough to expose everything he’s offering. 

The color is slightly blown out from the flash, and it’s a touch blurry where his phone didn’t autofocus quickly enough. His hand looks like it’s straight up, just choking the base of his cock. It’s jarring. 

But that’s really the “man” of it all, right? Nothing subtle or demure about a rock-hard erection jutting towards you, reaching like it could get to you on its own if it just could get a little bit harder. No, there’s nothing coy about the raw thoughts of a man with no blood left in his brain who’s just aching to get inside you, either. 

And fuck if that doesn’t start to override your critical analysis. 

The glare from the flash reflects in the beads of precome rolling down his rosy tip. Mouth wateringly delicious. Your blood rushes to your pussy, filling your tender sex with heat and a deep, needy itch. It makes you dopey and silly. Not cock drunk, but like, dick pic buzzed. 

You know it felt sizeable in your hand earlier, but you aren’t an expert at estimating size from a through-the-pants handjob. You try to recreate your own grip around nothing to estimate the size. 

You giggle to yourself when you realize you're just a woman in her bed staring at her hand, jerking an invisible cock. The horny goblins aren’t amused, though. They’re sick of the daydreaming and distractions. They’re picking fights with the rest of your mind. Throwing rocks and sticks, shrieking and hissing. 

The part of your brain that was griping about how men used to write love letters and respect the art of romance is getting quieter and further from your faculty for caring. You can hear its muffled shouts, and you assure that voice that you won’t give it all up this easily. Then, you completely tune it out. 

The last brain cell with a complaint has you rolling your eyes. You have to be ovulating or something because it’s wholly debased the way this guy is doing it for you. 

He’s just shameless with it. 

You sent him tasteful underboob, and he gives you jumpscare dick-in-the-dark! How is this supposed to escalate? He gave it all up immediately! You send another picture, and he sends you his money shot? What’s he gonna do to give you more? Send you an asshole shot? That one makes you snort. You bet he would do it, too, if you asked. 

Oh, that gives you a better idea. He’s not getting another picture from you at all. You tap on his name and tap the call icon. Of course, this horny motherfucker answers immediately. You aren’t sure it even rang before you’re connected to his porny bedroom voice. 

“What are you wearing, dollface?” 

“I already showed you. Call me dollface again, and I’m hanging up.” 

You can hear his breathing like he’s got the mic on his phone in his mouth. That would typically drive you fucking nuts, but right now, you wanna hear his heavy breath against your ear and feel it hot against your skin.

“All right,” he speaks slowly, distracted. You know why. “You wanna be my slut, instead?” 

Fuck. That has you throbbing between your legs, but he doesn’t get to know that yet. 

“I already told you,” you keep your voice low and soft, “you don’t get to call me a slut for you, not with your behavior.” You strain, trying to hear any other noises, but his mic is probably clogged with dust from his shop or lint from the pocket of his sweats. You can just hear his fucking breathing. 

“What behavior, baby?” he rasps.

“You always jump straight to sending a picture of your cock?” 

You hear the soft snort through the phone. Followed by a deeper, throatier noise. A noise that makes you go cross-eyed and has you running a hand down to your naked lower half to tease yourself. 

“You always steal a man’s clothes after you come on his fingers?” 

You don’t really care what he asked. His voice makes your tongue go numb. Your mind goes blank. You start slowly, coating your own fingers in your slick arousal and drawing circles with a light touch. 

You hum a noncommittal response into the phone. 

“You look good in my shirt, baby, fuck,” he trails off breathlessly. The idea of you in his clothes gets him too close. 

You don’t answer, and he’s too far gone to wait and tease. 

He’s been wound up since you took off this afternoon, and it doesn’t feel like a coincidence that you sent him that pic when he had just gotten into bed.

It had taken ages to get his brother out of the shop this afternoon, and then Joel completely fucked up when he mentioned you and the lasagna. He had to begrudgingly host Tommy for dinner when he couldn’t come up with a better excuse than saying, “I’m gonna need you to fuck off so I can deal with the aching balls I’ve got from your surprise visit scaring away the woman I had my fingers knuckle deep inside.”

But when he was finally alone, it was like fate; your text came through right after he flopped onto his bed. His semi-stiff cock had sprung to full mast at the sight of you. The shirt he knew he didn’t fuckin’ lose, your soft curves, and the expression on your face. Like a vixen. Your PG-13 tease would do more for him than any X-rated video. 

Knowing you were thinking about him and that you wanted him to know? That had him throbbing. He already knew from the desire in your eyes earlier today that you wanted more.

He could swear his fingers still hold the lingering flavor of your wet cunt. The visceral memory of you has him on edge. When he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, he has to pause, holding firmly in place. His body screams and aches for release, but he’s determined to keep it in check. He doesn’t want to blow his load until he gets a response from you. 

He fights his urges, trying not to fuck his own fist in a frantic race to come. 

But, fuck, it’s difficult when he can imagine the sounds you’d make as you sank onto his cock for the first time. The face you’d make. Your tight, wet walls hugging him just right. Like, he’s where he’s meant to be. 

And the way you would look, bouncing on top of him. Your tits, your blissed-out face, the way your soft lips would part when you called out his name and cried for more. 

Those lips. 

The way he’d love to see them swollen and slobbering around the base of his cock. Fuck. His hips buck reflexively, and he hisses out a breath through his clenched teeth. When his phone lights up with your name, he answers before it can make a sound. You’re so bold. He likes that. It plasters a saucy grin on his face. 

And now, with your breathy voice crackling through his janky phone speaker, he’s not gonna last long. You've got him losing his composure for the second time in one day. His whole body is rigid. His toes flex and snap unconsciously, and his jaw tenses. He hears your soft moan, and his thoughts are overflowing. He has no filter left. 

“Yeah, baby? You moaning for me?” His hips punch up into his fist, and he gives in, allowing himself firm, severe strokes. “You’ve got me so hard. You moaning for my cock?” 

You are so not gonna answer that one. If the next words out his mouth are, “Yeah, you like that?” you’re gonna block him for that. But it is undeniably hot to hear him already so worked up. You just know he’s gonna be coming all over himself again for you, and that really does make you moan just for him.

Your noises earn you another growly groan from Joel that you’d kill to hear again. The more uninhibited his noises are, the louder you get in response.

“You using your fingers, or you have a toy?” his question is punctuated with a grunt. 

“Mm, just fingers,” you purr, finally granting him an actual response as you roll your hips. Having Joel on the line gives you a heady sense of satisfaction. Wondering what’s going to come out of his filthy mouth next gives you a shiver of anticipation. 

“I know that sweet pussy is just achin’ to be filled again.” Correct. 

“Yes.” 

“S’right, baby, I know.” 

Joel whimpering on the phone for you is absolutely going to get you off. Your hips chase your own fingers. You switch your phone audio to speakerphone and drop it on your pillow so you can use both hands. Pinching at your own nipples as if it were Joel’s big hand under your smuggled shirt. 

“Tell me,” he pants, “who do you need to fill it for you?” 

“You, Joel.” 

“Fuck,” he chokes out, “you wanna ride this cock, huh baby?” 

“Mhmm.” Bingo. Right again. You wish you could feel the pressure of him inside of you, massaging and soothing away the agony. The weight of his body atop of yours, so solid and secure. You can just about feel the pressure of his pelvis grinding into you. The friction from the coarse curls at the base of his cock getting you closer and closer. 

“Know you’d do so good,” he cuts himself off with a low noise, “so damn sexy.” 

“What else would you do with me?” You wanna hear it. For your own fantasy and to know what he’s into.  

“I’d have you taking me down your throat til you’re crying on it for me, fuck,” a primal noise erupts from him.

Face fucking. Of course. You can’t deny that when he says it, your body responds instantaneously. Your pussy floods eagerly at the idea, and your cheeks burn hot from the visual he gives you. You swallow down your moans, and you can imagine the weight of him on your tongue and the strain of trying to swallow around his cock. 

“You wanna come down my throat?” As if that isn’t a fucking siren song that would make him steer a fleet of ships into a cliff? Your salacious words are too much. 

“Shit. Yeah, baby, wanna watch you swallow for me.” You let all your moans and gasps flow freely for him to hear. “I’m so fuckin’ close,” he can’t stop the words from spilling out his mouth, “let me hear it, baby,” he can’t stop his pending bliss either. “Please, baby, I can’t, oh f-fuck,” he cuts himself off with another primitive grunt, and that’s precisely what your cavewoman cunt wanted to hear. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” The horny goblins chant out loud this time. You can envision sweaty, pleading Joel lurching toward a reckless, full-body climax. 

You’re far from grace when the crude sounds he lets out turn you into an uncivilized beast. You hear him gasping, growling, and whining for you. It plunges you into a staggering orgasm. Rolling waves of ecstasy leave you panting and sweating.  

You lie in bed, chest rising and falling beneath the Creed logo. You’re left stunned at the intensity. A dreamy smile spreads across your face, and warm contentment, like honey, pours slowly over your muscles. Relaxing you as your tension softens and you turn to pick your phone back up.

Why was it so wholly consuming just to listen to him? Imagining the mess he made again,

because of you. 

Maybe you’re just made for each other. 

You and Joel. 

Oh, god. You should start listening to Alanis Morissette and Evanescence and trade your car for a 1990s-era Toyota 4runner and a pack of Marlboro Smooths. Really lean into matching his freak and the divorced alt-rock vibes.

You laugh softly into your phone before a deep sigh possesses you, and you nearly fall asleep. You stretch and smile, letting your heavy eyelids rest. 

He’s muttering something at you, catching his breath from the stress of being that fucking horned up for you all evening. And the overexertion of lasting long enough to hear your sweet cries of release. 

“You’re unreal,” his smoky voice rings with awe. “Got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager.”

You snort at the juxtaposition of his tender voice and crude comment before ending the call with a whispered, “Goodnight.” 

It shouldn’t make you smile. 

But he’s somehow such an enticing disaster. A cliche lonely bachelor, a cocksure idiot who knows he’s got a big dick and a generous guy who was willing to fix a stranger's car. 

You shouldn’t be trying to justify it, but you know he had you figured out earlier. 

You may be sated tonight, but you won’t be able to rest.

Not until you get your hands on that DILF – or rather, your pussy on that dick. 

divider by @cyberangel-graphics

PLEASE tell me if you enjoyed or hated it 

OR throw rocks at me if you’re upset they didn’t smash yet or tell me ur favorite divorced dad rock song

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General tags 💗:

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[gtgbabie0]

Helloo can I request a sweet smut with aegon x reader where they've been apart for some time due to work and when they come together they just want to be intimate with one another

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{Aegon’s patience has been wearing thin, he soon reaches a breaking point}

!!-18//MDNI-!! Sorry this took so long I simply cannot catch a break, enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

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Since the moment Aegon sat down on his council chair he wanted to leave, to abandon the whole damned meeting and let the fools figure it out for themselves. What was the point of even being there if they overlooked everything he said?— if they did not take him seriously?

It angered him beyond belief, the way they looked at him, the snide remarks that left a stupid pain in his chest no matter how much he tried to ignore it. He sits there bored and pissed off, spinning the marble against the wooden table as their words blend into one another making one big dull noise.

He feels silly, ignored, and he doesn’t enjoy it— so he leaves, slamming his fist onto the table so hard that it causes each of the council members to jump in their seats. The marble rolls off of the table, smashing onto the stone floor as the door shuts behind him with a loud thud.

Aegon bites the inside of his cheek, trying to cool his temper down before entering your bedchambers- the last thing he wanted to do was sour your day with his mood, but it doesn’t work he can’t seem to quell the frustration that coils around his already tense body.

It's your laugh. The sound of your laughter, light and merry calms him. It clashes so greatly with the heavy weight of his heart, with the turbulence in his mind. He stands there for a moment, just outside your shared bedchambers, his anger evaporating as he listens to the heavenly sound.

With a deep breath, he opens the door entering with a relieved sigh. His lilac eyes meet your own with a tender expression that softens his features, watching your dressers ready you for bed, taking your necklace and earrings off with great care.

“You’re dismissed… leave us.” Aegon commands, waving a dismissive hand to the two ladies. They both bow courtly before leaving the room with knowing smirks gracing their lips.

You stand there however with furrowed brows, tilting your head in confusion as he draws closer to you. “I’m still in my day clothes?” You state only receiving a chuckle in return.

“I’m aware.” He smirks, admiring the way the silk of your dress hugs your curves. It drives him to madness and he can’t help but grasp at your hips as he continues to drink in the sight of you. "You don't need your dressers to get you ready for bed... I can take care of that for you."

The realisation hits all so suddenly, taking your breath away and the only response you can give him is a small ‘Oh’ which only makes him chuckle once more against the soft skin of your shoulder.

It had been far too long since he had taken you, all the interrupted moments and the long busy days had caused a searing ache between your thighs that you had tried to sate with your fingers, but nothing could compare to Aegon— he knew you like the back of his hand, he filled the spaces you couldn’t.

“What has spurred this one?” You ask, tone hushed and breathless as he leaves a trail of warm kisses along your neck and the dip of your shoulder. It wasn’t a complaint, far from it, you just wanted to know whether or not he burned for you the way you did for him.

And gods did he. Aegon's fingers work at the laces of your dress with practised ease, his touch feather-light and yet exhilarating. He watches you through the reflection of the mirror, the way the silk of your dress ripples down your body like a waterfall until it pools around your feet leaving you vulnerable to him.

“Do I need an excuse to want to touch you like this?” He whispers, lips grazing against the curve of your jaw. It’s all so dizzying in such an embarrassing way.

You lean back against him, enjoying the way his fingers trace along your waist causing your skin to break out in gooseflesh. He mumbles something about how ‘sensitive you are’ into the crook of your neck and you can feel the smirk that teeters on his lips when a breathless moan escapes you.

“No of course not— I’ve missed you.” You sigh, leaning your head to expose more of your neck to him as your fingers find his hair.

He nuzzles his nose against the underside of your jaw, humming in contentment as your sweet flowery scent surrounds him. “I’ve missed you— so much.” He breathes.

Aegon cups your jaw, tilting your head slightly to the side so he can kiss you. So slow and yet full of passion that has only been building up for the past few weeks. He groans into your eager mouth the taste of your tongue against his own going straight to his cock.

His arms wrap around your midsection, pulling you closer to him. He press his growing erection against the curve of your ass and he can’t help but rut against you slightly. He was more pent up than he realised.

He breaks the messy kiss momentarily, his breath warm against your skin. "You taste... incredible..." he whispers, his voice a low rumble, before kissing you once again.

“The wine perhaps.” The words are hushed through a small giggle. Once again his lips find yours, not breaking as you turn around in his embrace, one of his hands reaching up to caress your warm cheek.

"No," he murmurs, pulling back to admire you with a hungry look and a lazy grin. "It's not the wine." He leans back in. "It's... you," the kiss is much greedier, and his hands trace a path down your spine, resting against the small of your back, drawing you closer to his body.

You gasp, hands flying to grab his forearms as he suddenly begins to guide you backwards over to your shared bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress as you collide with the softness of the bedsheets, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Where did your manners go?” You tease him lightly, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching him with desire in your eyes as he lifts his tunic over his head, discarding it on the floor somewhere.

He smirks, leaning over you, trailing his lips along your collarbones— a clash of teeth and tongue. His hips lay flush over your own as he slowly grinds himself down onto you, relishing in the sweet sounds that you make.

"My manners?" he murmurs against your chest, his eyes meeting your own with a glint of playfulness flashes through them. "They flew out the window the moment I took that dress off of you."

His gaze roams over your body, drinking in the sight of you laid out beneath him bare— hips writhing desperately. You gasp against the pillows as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak whilst his other hand cups your unattended breast, thumbing over the nub.

“Aegon— please.” The words are a struggle to get out as he’s rendered you completely breathless, but the way your hips lift up to try and press against his, desperate for attention, tells him everything he needs to know.

He hums in understanding, leaving a trail of kisses along your breasts. “I’ll get there, my love… I’ll get there.” He coos softly, his hand falling to your restless hips as his thumb rubs over the curve and dips whilst his mouth ravishes your chest in wet kisses and small licks.

Aegon slips his hand in between your thighs, watching your face intently as his fingers part your slick folds, running along the sensitive flesh before catching your clit, rubbing slow circles over the bud. He’s completely taken with the way you arch up into his touch, how your lips part, the sounds you make. All of it— all of you—causes his cock to throb.

You mewl, hips bucking against his hand as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them. “Mhm… you’re so beautiful with my fingers buried in your cunt,” He smirks, enjoying the fact he isn’t the only one who has been pent up. “So wet…” the words are muffled against your lips, your slickness coating his digits.

You brush your fingers through his hair, pulling him into a kiss as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Your free hand works deftly to unlace his breeches, the fabric falls mid-thigh letting his cock spring free, begging for attention.

Aegon hisses sharply into your ear, burying his face against your shoulder as your hand wraps around his length. “I want your cock inside me, please…” you beg him, voice strained with pleasure. The deep desire to feel him as close to you as humanly possible completely drowns out everything else in your mind, your thoughts now are only of him.

He nods his head in compliance, not having the strength the refrain himself any longer than he already has. Sliding his fingers out of your cunt, he coats your slickness around the tip of his thick shaft, the feeling sends a tingle down his spine, his skin hot to the touch.

Aegon swats your hand away gently as he guides the head of his cock between your folds, nudging the tip against your clit over and over again basking in the way his name sounds coming from you all whiny, laced with such wanton passion.

He groans as he lines himself up to your entrance before sinking into you slowly, whispering soft lovely words of encouragement against your jaw. The way you take him with ease, how your slick walls clamp around him it’s all so maddening— so mind-numbing and all he can do is huff and moan against your skin.

The stretch of him is so achingly good, the drag of his cock along your walls as he thrusts his hips against your own sends a searing heat through your abdomen. Aegon mutters on about how ‘good you feel’ and how ‘well you take him’ like some sort of crazed man, completely drunk off of your body.

His movements soon become sloppy, trying so hard to keep himself from spilling too early but the sounds of wet flesh and your moans coupled with the way your cunt squeezes around him makes it nearly impossible as he teeters closer to the edge.

“Fuck— I can’t— it’s been too long I— I won’t last.” He whimpers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. His hands pin your hips down to the bedsheets as he continues to fuck himself into you, moaning hotly against your flushed skin as you wrap your thighs around his waist to hold him closer.

“I- I’m close… don’t worry.” You reassure him, your hand grasping at his white hair. The tightness deep inside him eventually snaps, spilling his warm seed inside you with a broken cry of pleasure, panting and whining into the crook of your neck as apologies fly from his lips. You grab his face, kissing him greedily as you come around cock, milking him practically dry.

The pair of you go boneless against the comfort of the pillows, catching your breaths with dazed expressions. Aegon’s fingers trace a soothing line along your spine as you instinctively seek out the warmth of his arms.

“Sorry-” He rasps with a lazy grin, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek. "It's been too long"

“Mm… don't apologise, we'll never go that long apart again.” You reply earning a weak nod and a hum of agreement from him. You rest your cheek against his chest, allowing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm your own erratic one.

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[imsilay]

AGOWILT

“unnecessary fear”

NSFW MDNI +18, cw: noncon, Kidnapper!König, fem!reader, smuuutttt.

wc: 1.9k ( it’s too much for me Ü )

help me i am constantly thinking about König AND I DONT KNOW HOW TO STOP IT T-T

cr: rU3Ur (LET ME HAVE HIM OMAAAYYGAAATT)

You looked out of the worlds most tiniest window as König comfortably slept on top of you. Feeling of your soft body underneath his big and broader frame made him feel ‘home’. He wouldn’t exchange anything to have you under him like that. Your arms were sprayed both sides of you, you didn’t wanted to touch him yet here he was covering your entire body like a warm blanket. You felt him hold you a little tighter and move his head towards your neck from your chest. He was probably having a dream, you thought, not really caring how close his head was to your jugular. You didn’t knew what time it was, there was no clock, no window except the small opening on the wall -you hardly called it a window-, there was nothing but him. The massive bedroom was just made for him, no unnecessary items, just a giant bed, a furniture for him to put his gun, a closet and you. What else he’d want? You didn’t notice his face coming dangerously close to your throat when you get lost in your thoughts. He nearly made you jump when his lips brushed against your jugular. And eventually his big hand was around your neck, almost wrapping around it whole and his lips pressed against your most vulnerable part. You didn’t even thought he was awake, you were used to these kind of touches from him in his asleep state. It was like he was sensing how overwhelmed your thoughts became, always. Even in his sleep.

You were the first woman he was letting himself to be vulnerable with, and he’d be damned to let you go. Not when he finally had you within his hands. He knew he was a hard man to deal with. His wishes were unlimited like his needs for you. So he made sure to keep you close, at least whenever he wasn’t deployed. And god he hated deployments. Only if it wasn’t for his adrenaline fulfill and paychecks, he’d be more than happy to stay with his sweet girl, to fuck her until he was satisfied, to hold her tightly afterwards and treat her like the queen she was. Even when he was dreaming, he was dreaming of you. It’d be everything, either fucking you dumb or the time he finally convinced you to wear the ring he got for you. There was no in between. Every single thought of his was lead to you.

You felt him breath in deeply and unconsciously started to run his thumb up and down on your throat. It was some kind of strange routine for him. You doubted that even he was aware of it. When he finally spoke it was nothing but a ‘Morning.’ with his morning voice which never missed to make you feel your stomach tighten. It was 5 AM. You already memorized his routine by now. Never changing since the day he brought you. He finally moved to his side and you thought you were finally free but he didn’t let go. His hand around your throat pulled you closer to his eye level and other wrapped around your waist, sneaking underneath your -his- t-shirt. “Couldn’t sleep, meine kleine?” he purred as he tilted your chin up to get his morning kiss. You didn’t even protested him, you’ve lost your feistiness for long ago. “Did you missed your family? Your friends? Or your little cat?” he chuckled dryly when you didn’t returned his kiss. You weren’t protesting but it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted you to love him as he loved you. In the other hand you were thinking of him nothing but a obsessive psycho. Most of the time you feel scared and the rest, you felt numb. Oh he knew how to push your buttons, he had watched you enough to know all your weaknesses. When you remained silent it only made him want to push you further. It was better to see you stare at him with hatred and anger. His eyes swept over your pretty features, desperately wanting the burning light back into your eyes. “Did you know that your parents almost had a heart attack in your funeral?” and he got what he wanted instantly, your addicting lips trembled and eyes lit up. A sight he would die for. “You’re nothing but a selfish, disgusting and a coward man.” your face twisted with hatred and irritation as you tried to squirm away from his grasp. Yet all your efforts were to not move an inch. His grip was too stronger to let you escape. “That’s what i’m talking about, meine kleine. Keep on hating me, call me disgusting and coward all you want. I only know i’m enough selfish to have you just f’me. Only mine.” Solely his. Yeah, you knew that from the start. All he wanted was to have you for himself. He didn’t even care if it was risky to fake your death and bring you into his house, hidden in the depths of the forests. Even his closest friends had no knowledge about that little hiding place of his. His favorite thing in the morning was to kiss you until you were whining and trying to push him off for some air. Oh how he loved to be all over you. “C’mere.” his hands stilled you so you wouldn’t be able to turn your head away. His lips were on yours in instant. He needed it like he needed to breathe. And he expected you to give your breath to him. If it was possible he’d love to just be able to breathe from your lips. His source of life. “Kiss me back.” he growled against your lips as he pulled your body against his as close as possible. The feeling of your smaller form against him, the power he had over you send shivers down to his spine. Soon he was begging-demanding for you to return his kiss. “Bitte, Maus! Just a kiss. Don’t get all shy now. Let me have it.” his hands were trembling from holding himself back just to not hurt you. Or his hands would grip your waist in a bruising force because he was getting more and more frustrated the more you denied him. There was really no room for you to think. He was stealing your breath only to give you his breath. When you finally captured his bottom lip he groaned into the kiss and his body shuddered. It always got you by surprise to see a man like him to get lost in these little things. He surely was a desperate man. Of course you noticed it, who wouldn’t when he pressed his thumb to your chin to dive into a more open mouthed kiss. His hands may be gentle but his lips were crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. When he captured your tongue to suckle, you let out the sweetest whine, he couldn’t help but press his growing bulge against you for some friction.

One of his leg crept against yours to bend his knee and press his muscly thigh against your clothed cunt. If you could describe him as a sin certainly he’d be the greediness. He knew no limit when it was you. His hunger and need never ending. You tried to tell him to stop but he was too lost in his mission to kiss you breathless to care for your pitiful whimperings. “Can’t get enough.” he mumbled when he finally let you breathe and you felt him leaning in again, his lips chasing yours as you moved your head away. “Stop. König!” his breath hitched in his throat but his gaze never left your kiss-swollen lips. “Scheiße. Say it again. Say my name.” he growled, you were constantly trying to keep the distance but whenever you moved an inch he just grounded his thigh against your dripping cunt. “Will you stop if i say it?” your raised eyebrow was so cute, you thinking that you could make a deal with him was even cuter. “Ja.” he whispered and his gaze dropped to your lips again, just to catch the way you pronounced his name. “König.” you mumbled so quietly it wasn’t even audible for you. “Can’t hear.” his brows furrowed in concentration, his gaze glued to your lips. “König.” your voice unintentionally sounded like a breathy whine when his thigh brushed against your sensitive clit. A deep humm vibrated from his chest with contentment, he got you where he wanted.

“Braves Mädchen. Good fucking girl.” his fingers tangled with your hair as he pulled you into another deep kiss. You could feel him grin against the kiss when you started to grind on his thigh. It fed his ego to have you squirming within his grip. There was nothing like to have you more and more desperate for him, not like he was for you. His desperation was too much for you. You would only want him when he got you all worked up but he was fraught with need. Just from your little touch he could get on his knees and worship your very being. His other hand moved among your bodies and went down, down and down until you felt it tugging at your sweatpants and then eventually throwing them off of the bed with the blankets that was covering you both. His lips were moving to your chin then your neck to bite then again back to your swollen lips. He could never get enough of your sweet taste and he’d hate to miss the opportunity to have you moaning into his lips when his fingers ran up and down on your slit. The sensation of having his fingers brushed against your clit left you moaning shakily. Just against his lips, just as he wanted. “Want me to play with that sweet pussy? Was that why you were being grumpy?” he chuckled lightly and breathless. He was nearly panting at that point but how could he miss the opportunity to get you talk to him. “I- oh my, i didn’t said that!” you snapped but he just kept brushing his fingers against your sensitive clit. He loved the way you looked at him in disbelief, all innocent and ready for him to manipulate. “Your body ‘s more honest, i won’t listen to you now.” a wolfish grin crept across his face as the pad of his finger drew tight circles on your clit. Your whole body shuddered and you instinctively gripped his forearm, his free hand was tangled in your head to make you look into his eyes while he played with you, but you didn’t tried to stop him. Not when he got you so close with just playing with you a little. He absolutely cherished the way your pretty lips got into an ‘o’ shape when his lengthy fingers suddenly entered your tight hole knuckle deep. You little gasp with the clenching of your tight pussy was all he wanted at that point. “That pretty brain of yours always goes dumb when i play with you.” he chuckled deeply, his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping cunt and making your legs shake with the pace of it. His fingers curled deliciously in your walls and his length, thick fingers never missed the spots that got you squirming and moaning. And eventually he made you cum, his fingers never slowing its pace and letting you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Pretty girl.” he purred and nuzzled his face into your neck. His fingers finally retreated from your sensitive sex and before you could react he was sucking his fingers, tasting how sweet you were for him. He’d love to go down and taste it from the first place…

(i know this isn’t what you wanted but i tried lmao）

( ; _ ; )/~~~

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i try to reply all of them :>

i’m so tired that i’m about to pass out lmao- bye

(～﹃～)~zZ

i can do a pt.2 if my bbgs wants. but god knows when ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[vivwritesfics]

Bloody Knuckles

boxer!max

It was a shitty apartment. The wallpaper was peeling, their was damp on the ceiling and none of the appliances worked. At least half of the windows had to be forced open, and the other half were permanently shut. Neither of them could remember the last time their shower stayed warm for more than two minutes.

Hidden away in the bedroom, he laid awake, fingers brushing up and down her arm. She was so delicate compared to him, his bandaged fingers against her skin unmarred by cuts and bruises. She could break, and he would do anything to stop that.

In her sleep, she rolled over and planted her face on his chest. He bit down on his tongue, stopping himself from screaming out in pain at the sensation. She didn't know just how mad the last fight had been, how bad he had come out.

He was the winner, of course. He always was.

His freckled, pillowy lips met the top of her head. Fuck, he loved her. He loved her more than words could describe. His heart ached. It might have been the pain, or the guilt he was harbouring.

When the sun rose (visible because the curtains left the bottom few inches of the window exposed, and they couldn't get the curtain rod down to change it), he did. He slipped out of bed and she rolled onto his side of the bed. Her face was buried against his pillow when he got changed into his workout gear and slipped out of the room.

The change in his pocket paid for his red bull and he headed to the gym.

His build wasn't expected of most boxers. He wasn't big and bulky, with bulging muscles. That was why people betting on him made so much money at first, because he was the underdog.

But he had been in the game for too long now, and people knew his tricks.

Throwing his stuff into his usually locker, number thirty three, he finished his Red Bull and began wrapping his knuckles.

"Maximus," said Daniel as he stepped out of the shower, towel around his hips. "Big night tonight, huh?" He asked and Max gave a nod. "You got the ring?"

He turned and fished the little black box from his gym bag. That was there he'd been hiding it from her, keeping it at the very bottom of his gym bag.

Max opened the box, showing Daniel the engagement ring inside. It was simple, nothing fancy. A simple band with dainty leaves engraved on it.

"She's gonna love it."

Daniel had never met the woman Max wanted to marry. But he was right, she was going to love it.

Max tapped his knuckles together, shut his locker, and headed out into the gym.

***

God, she looked lovely. Her best pair of earrings dangled from her ears and the necklace Max had gotten her for Christmas hung from her neck.

She'd had the dress longer than she'd known Max. She rarely got to wear it, usually had a bag hanging over it in the wardrobe to keep it safe.

But tonight it hugged her frame just right as she walked on Max's arm. She had no idea where they were going as Max wrapped his arm around her.

But then she saw the restaurant. A gasp left her lips. "Max, we can't afford this," she whispered. And tugged on her arm.

But Max stopped her. "Trust me, liefje, I've got this," he assured her and gave the waiter the name on his reservation.

Dinner with the man she loved. She ordered the cheapest thing possible on the menu even when Max reassured her he could cover the bill, no matter what it was.

She didn't know how Max had made enough extra cash to take her to the fanciest restaurant going. She didn't know the illegal fights he was a part of and the money it was making.

It was going smoothly. The ring was in his pocket, ready for him to get down onto one knee. The weight of it was so damn heavy, Max couldn't wait.

"Mad Max?"

His stomach dropped. That name was never meant to be said outside of the ring. He wildly looked around for the owner of the voice, breaths coming out shallow.

"Let's get out of here, liefje," he said and placed wads of cash down with the receipt.

Unaware of anything wrong, she placed her hand in in his and followed him out of the restaurant.

"Mad Max, wait!"

Max sped them up, pulling her along behind him. "Come on, man! I've put a shitload of money on you!"

Suddenly, Max had him. He pushed the man, a guy he had seen at quite a few ot his fights, against the wall. "Leave us the fuck alone!" He roared, pressing on the guys neck.

He dropped him, grabbed his girl, and sped off.

"What the hell was that?" She gasped, footsteps hurried to keep up with him.

Max shook his head. "Don't worry about it, liefje." His jaw was tight. "It's never gonna happen again."

[suiana]

(yandere! teaching assistant x gn! reader)

"and that will be all for today, thanks for joining-"

before he could even finish his sentence, people were already leaving the zoom meeting. the male blinks, staring at his screen with a shocked expression before he sighs and juts his lip out.

"zero people are following you..."

the teaching assistant mutters, letting out a soft whimper before he covers his face in his hands.

damn it! why were kids so brutal? he was trying his best here... and not even a single goodbye?

"stop presenting..."

he sobs, peeking at the words on the screen before crumbling even more. his hand shook with each sob that came from his throat, his figure hunched up over his table. the camera records his every move, broadcasting his breakdown in front of a relatively empty zoom meeting...

that still had you in it.

but it seems that he was not aware, or had forgotten about your presence for he was muttering to himself, crying in front of his dusty camera that managed to capture each and every one of his movements perfectly.

you could only stare awkwardly as your teaching assistant breaks down into tears in front of you. i mean, what were you to do? he was crying his heart out! and as the teacher... should you help? i mean, you weren't even there physically with him!

so you did what you thought was best.

*PING!*

"h-huh..? 1 p-person is following you..?"

your teaching assistant looks up from his hands, eyes glassy as he stares at his screen in front of him. his eyes brighten considerably, a small smile creeping onto his features before he shakes in his chair.

"oh dear student! how great you are! you are here to say goodbye to me aren't you? how sweet of you-"

he rambles slightly, eyes curled into half moons as he clicks on the participants list, eager to thank the 'student' who had 'stayed to wish him goodbye'...

only to be met with your name. the teacher.

"a-ah?! you're still here?! oh god i'm so sorry-"

"it's fine. um... have a good rest of your day. you did well."

you watch in slight amusement as your teaching assistant fumbles with his glasses, muttering apology after apology as his cheeks grow even more redder than before. you let out a soft hum as he wishes you goodbye before quickly exiting the meeting.

'what a funny guy,'

you think to yourself, chuckling as you end the meeting and forget about what happened as you prepare for your next class.

meanwhile, your teaching assistant had decided to seek refuge in his pillows. gosh, his heart was beating so fast he swears it's going to burst out of his chest! you! his beloved darling! had told him he did well?! and stayed with him to wish him a good day?! this is the best day of his life!

what? you witnessed his breakdown?

...

eh, that's not that important.

what's more important, is the fact that you had stayed in the meeting together with him! and even wished him a good day! that practically means you love him too, right? that you love him? ah, he should start planning your wedding already! would you like a big one? a small one? do you want to wear a suit or a dress? a mix of both? oh, so many things to consider...

if only he remembered that you couldn't end the meeting until everyone had left.

[seungfl0wer]

Minho As Your Boyfriend

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut🩷

(I had to stop myself on this one man. I could go on about how I think Minho is. For real stopped at one point and said damn. It’s already so long lol.)

-🩵

•He’s such a big push over especially for you.

•He really can’t say no to you.

•As much as he acts all tough and non caring that’s just what he wants you to think.

•He’s such a mushy guy with you.

•Non-Stop flirting.

•Hand holding.

•Hand holding.

•Did I mention hand holding?

•He brings your hand up to kiss it so sweetly.

•But if you dare to mention it he’ll give you that look.

•Small acts of kindness.

•Like making sure you always have your favorite snacks.

•Or bringing you something back from your and acting all nonchalant like.

•Gives you quick cheek kisses and act like nothing happened.

•Finds it so fucking cute how much he makes you blush/smile.

•Has THE WORST picture of you as his background.

•Laughs about it all the time but just finds you adorable.

•Like I said before mans acts like he’s all tough and cold.

•But really he is just such a softy.

•He loves the mornings where he doesn’t have to get up.

•Where he can just lay next to you.

•Cuddle up, all cozy. These days he’d stay in bed for hours just to feel you close.

•He really loves to cuddle.

•One of his favorite things to do is have you wrapped in his arms.

•Where he has his head against your shoulder listing to you hum/breath.

•He likes laying you on his chest so you have to look up to him to talk.

•Ugh just how soft and sleepy you look makes his heart melt.

•And back to listening to you, he loves laying his head on your chest/back.

•So he can hear the beautiful rhythm of your heart beat.

•Don’t get me wrong though he is a menace.

•Will tease you.

•However he knows his limit.

•It just takes one time for something he said to mildly upset you to know how far he can go/take it.

•And that first time? He feels absolutely awful.

•He might like to push your buttons but never wanting to push the one that may hurt you in anyway.

•He’s super protective of you and a bit possessive.

•He’s not very confrontational however someone says something rude to you?

•That quick tongue of his is either being bitten or snapping at someone.

•Also if someone is being too flirty or touching you?

•He’s right there wrapping his arm around you, kissing you. Anything to show them you’re his.

•You’re quite literally his whole world.

•Minus his cat babies of course.

•And oh god the amount of fondness and just pure love when he sees you with them.

•That’s his wallpaper.

•You and his children. Ah does he gush over it.

•Loves to get all pouty when you’re giving them more attention.

•”I know dori is cute but I’m cuter”

•People tend to look at him and just see this cold man but truly. He is just so caring.

•He remembers all your important dates, takes so good care of you.

•And just spoils you like there’s no tomorrow.

•Truly and utterly loves you with everything in him.

︵‿︵‿୨Smut Below୧‿︵‿︵

•Minho in the bedroom? Is a slightly different story.

•He’s still so enamored by you so in love but.

•He’s more- more of the Scorpio man he is.

•He’s so passionate and possessive.

•Very much a dom.

•Loves having you so obedient to him.

•Multiple rounds most days.

•Degrading, Spanking, Biting, Overstimulation, begging. Everything.

•Definitely loves giving you hickeys on your neck so others can see them.

•Loves to be called sir.

•Firm believer of him calling you kitten as well.

•Mans so good. His tongue, his hands, those fucking dancer hips.

•You’ll never leave without cumming.

•Even on the most rough days. As much as he wants to not let you cum.

•He will. Of course he will, especially when you beg so well for it.

•Remember when I said about cuddling?

•So much morning sex where he’s just sloppily fucking you.

•He’s still half asleep when he’s pushing into you hands slinking round your body.

•Holding you so close whispering hot words against your ear.

•”aah kitten, feel so good just for me”

•Uses that voice, that soft voice he uses for the cats or that one episode with Felix and him in the haunted house.

•That sweet soft voice.

•Definitely has a breeding/primal kink.

•”Gonna fill you full, pump you so full you have all my babies”

•God and he absolutely goes feral when you ride him.

•Seeing your face so fucked out for him as you use him for your pleasure.

•Ah he could come then and there.

•Almost forgot to talk about how he loves taking you camping too.

•Having you outside fucking you so good.

•”Must want everyone to hear how well I’m fucking you”

•Light system in use all the time

•Aftercare is a lot of his sweet hum and coo’s of “my good kitten, did so well for me. I love you so much”

•Has snacks on stand by and drinks

•Cleans you up before himself.

•If it’s a rougher night is constantly asking if you’re ok.

•Is always afraid of hurting you in some way.

•Ends most nights with you cuddled together waiting on take out because he wants to make sure you’re replenished.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[steddieas-shegoes]

always struggling

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'struggling'

rated t | 971 words | no cw | tags: steddie, post-break up, modern era, open ending but assume they get back together, pre-famous corroded coffin

⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️

“How are we still short?” Jeff mumbled under his breath.

Eddie heard him, though, and his heart sank in his chest.

“We don’t have enough.” It wasn’t a question.

Jeff shook his head.

They both looked at Gareth and Frankie unloading the van. Usually, they all took care of their own equipment, but all of them had been too impatient to find out how much they made, so Jeff and Eddie rushed inside their house to count.

They needed $268 more to pay for their travel to the festival that could actually put them in front of the right people. That’s it. $268.

And they only made $197 from their show at the bar downtown.

“So we can’t go.”

Jeff shook his head. “Not unless you can come up with $71 by tomorrow morning.”

Eddie knows if he went to Wayne, he’d find a way. He’d break open a piggy bank or withdraw from his retirement savings. He’d ask for an advance on his paycheck. Whatever it took to help Eddie achieve his dreams.

But he’d done that enough.

Jeff’s parents already covered the cost of Jeff to go, and Frankie’s parents had refused to encourage his ‘rockstar behavior.’ Gareth’s mom didn’t have anything left over after paying for his twin sisters’ back to school supplies and clothes.

“You could call-“

“No.”

Jeff nodded solemnly. “Right.”

Eddie couldn’t call Steve. Steve had helped buy him a new guitar and fix his van before their inevitable crash and burn when Eddie decided to move to Chicago and Steve wasn’t ready. He hadn’t spoken to him in months. He couldn’t call him up and ask for money.

“Maybe I could take a shift at the diner tonight. If I take the big tables, it might be enough in tips,” Jeff offered. “We could busk?”

“You know we never make good money doing that. Nobody likes the noise.”

“Maybe we’ll just have to try again next year. We can keep playing the bars.”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

Neither of them noticed Frankie or Gareth standing behind them, listening in to the dilemma.

“We didn’t make enough?” Gareth asked somberly.

“Sorry, kid. Just a bit short,” Jeff said over his shoulder.

“This is bullshit!” He yelled.

“Gare-“ Eddie started to say, standing to try to comfort him.

“No! I’m sick of struggling so much. We’re good. We deserve to be there.” Gareth continued. “We’re going.”

“Dude, we can’t just print more money.”

Gareth turned to Eddie, fire in his eyes, hands clenched into fists.

“Suck up your damn pride and call Steve. He told you if you needed anything to call him. Call him.” He stormed to his room and slammed the door.

Eddie would do anything for his band, his friends. He knew missing this festival could be one of his biggest regrets.

“Eddie, it’s fine. Gareth-“

“Is right. I should call him.”

Eddie didn’t wait for them to try to convince him otherwise. He walked to his room and closed the door, trying to figure out how to have this conversation with a man he was definitely still in love with.

No way to prepare, really.

He pulled up Steve’s name in his contact list and pressed call before he could stop himself.

It rang three times before Steve answered.

“Eddie? Are you okay?”

God, he’d missed his voice.

“Hey Steve. Sorry if I’m interrupting anything-“

“No! It’s just family movie night, but they’re all arguing about what movie to pick anyway. How’s everything?” The sound of a door closing and silence in the background followed his question.

“Um. Well.” Just spit it out. “We have a really great opportunity at Iron and Metal Fest? It’s in Seattle, and we’ve been trying to save up to go, but we uh, we fell a little short and the deadline to let them know we can play is tomorrow morning.”

“Oh. How short?”

“$71.”

“I’ll Venmo you. Will that be okay?” Steve sounded like he’d switched the phone to speaker, probably to open the app on his phone.

Eddie didn’t deserve him, never did. A man who was willing to give up happiness so Eddie could chase his dreams, offering to help make them happen despite Eddie breaking his heart.

“Steve, I-“

“It’s okay, Eds. It’ll be worth it when you’re on a sold out tour someday, right?”

Eddie ignored the vibration of a notification as his eyes welled up with tears.

“I hope so.”

There was silence for too long.

“You still wanna be a rockstar, right?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“I do!” He really did. “I just didn’t think we’d have to struggle this much in a city made for bands like us.”

“It’ll be a great interview for Rolling Stone.”

“How do you have so much faith in us?”

“I have faith in you, Eds. Always have, always will. You’re gonna make it.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“Nah.” Someone knocked on the door and Steve whispered something to them before speaking to Eddie again. “Hey, I have to go. But I hope you wow everyone at that festival, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Stevie.”

When he checked his notifications, Steve had sent him $500.

He cried for 20 minutes before he went and told the guys.

****

The show was incredible and Eddie had never been more miserable.

The guys were on a high no drug could match, but Eddie was sinking further into a pit of despair.

“Never known you to look this sad after a show.”

Eddie’s head shot up to see Steve standing against a few extra speakers backstage.

“Steve? What’re you doing here?” Eddie walked closer, worried he was seeing things.

“Couldn’t miss your biggest show yet. Hope it’s okay.”

“Of course it is. I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie smiled, feeling some of the heavy weight lift from his shoulders. “Yeah.”

[chaconnenha]

이희승 STRAWBERRIES & CIGARETTES

📄⸝⸝ heeseung needed a little sweetness in his life. (he needed you.) ❪ ꕤ ❫ pairing. bad boy!lhs x f!reader ʬʬʬ───includes. slightly suggestive, but ends with fluff, smoking, heeseung is down bad for you . . . LIBRARY ?!

YOU were two steps away from the top of the rooftop staircase when you saw him standing with his back towards the view, his eyes on you, while he lit a cigarette between his lips. A trail of smoke to fill the space between you, connecting you like an invisible string. The smell of tobacco hit you fast as you took the next few steps forward. You came to a stop a few feet away from him, as if you had walked into an invisible wall.

Lee Heeseung started. You stared back. How many times have you met like this now? It felt like too much of a coincidence that you would both be on the rooftop at the same time. And yet, you didn’t find yourself minding it too much—you didn’t mind him too much. Your friends told you to stay away. They told you he was no good. But as he stood before you now—the notorious bad boy, the lone wolf—you couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of your own thrumming heart.

Your fingers subconsciously tightened around the stick of strawberry lollipop in your hand. You followed the way his chest rose with a breath, before falling as a puff of smoke was blown from his lips. You didn’t see the way his eyes drifted down your body from where he stood, taking in the way your glossy lips shone under the sun like a piece of candied fruit.

“That can’t be good for you,” you said, tilting your head ever so slightly. And almost immediately—like he were searching for water in the desert—his eyes drifted to the way your hair shifted to reveal the nape of your neck, the innocent act corrupted by the thoughts that ran through his mind. He thought about what it would be like to have you bear your neck to him like that, to let him cover the skin in hungry kisses in attempt to taste the sweetness of the scent you carried around like an aphrodisiac. 

“Does it matter?” he asked, lowering his voice just the slightest, as if trying to play the part of a big bad wolf scaring you away. A word of caution before he got the urge to devour you whole.  Run away little bunny, it seemed to say. I don’t play nice.

“It can’t be that good, can it?” You asked innocently. “Why don’t you have something that tastes better?”

Heeseung’s breath was caught in his throat. And if he had filled his lungs with smoke from his cigarette, he might have coughed it all out at the wording of your question. You didn’t mean it in that way—he knew that, because you were just too good. You grew flustered whenever he so much as caught you looking in his direction, you wouldn’t be able to flirt without burning brighter than the strawberries that you always smelled like.

But god, all he wanted to do was ask if you were going to offer yourself up as an alternative. Because even if he never got to taste the flavour of the gloss on your lips, he knew it would be the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Just one taste, he wanted to ask of you. And damn did he hate himself for letting his thoughts run wild by something so innocent.

“Yeah?” he whispered, breathless. “Like what?”

Your lips jutted into a cute little pout, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. He didn’t even take notice of the way your looked at the lollipop in your hand. It took only a few seconds before you knew what to do. You skipped your way over to the boy, until you were standing right in front of you. Now, you were closer than ever before, and Heeseung was looking down at you as if you were an angel sent from heaven, because how else was someone so bright, so pretty, up close? 

“Here.” You held out the lollipop in front of his starstruck eyes. “You can have it.”

When he didn’t respond, you took his calloused hand into yours—and he let you, like some puppy trained to give their paw when asked. You held onto it, before placing the unopened treat onto his palm, and closing his fingers over it. He stared at you like an idiot, the hand holding his cigarette falling to his side as he remained fixated on the feeling of your hand holding his.

His eyes flickered to your face, only to find that you were avoiding his gaze. Your chewed on your lip, before lowering your head, allowing your hair to fall over your face. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, only to be silenced... with a kiss.

He almost fell over in shock at the feeling of your soft lips on his parted ones, an explosion of strawberry bursting across the tip of his tongue, tasting just as sweet as he imagined. Your soft curves were pressed against his toned body, and he barely had the strength to keep his arms from wrapping around you and pulling you to him until the only barrier left between you were your clothes. Instead, he let his hands cup your face, as if he were cradling the entire world in his palms.

Heeseung leaned into your kiss as if you were a siren leading him to drown in the depths of the ocean, and all he wanted was to stay in this moment forever, to lose himself in your kiss rather than another cigarette. But before he could, you were pulling away. He looked into your eyes, his hands shaking as gasping breath left his lips. “That wasn't what I was expecting. But I'm not complaining.”

You giggled. Fuck, you were so cute. "Well that was only a one time thing.”

Damn it. “So, what do I do to make it permanent?”

You bit your lip, and it gave him half the mind to lean over and bite it himself. But then you glanced at him, a cheeky glint in your eye, and wave of warmth rushed up into his chest.

“Try not to smoke so much, okay?”

Heeseung didn’t get a chance to speak before you were scrambling off like a scared little animal with their tail between their legs. He watched your form as it disappeared, too late say anything before you were gone from his sight. But as he listened to the sound of your hurried footsteps and grow farther away, he couldn’t help but laugh. 

He looked at the lollipop, then at the cigarette. With a breathy chuckle, he dropped the latter, extinguishing the flame with the heel of his shoe. Staring up at the sun, he unwrapped the lollipop, before bringing it to his lips. Your face flashed through his mind, and he found himself unable to contain the smile that found its way onto his features.

It tasted sweet.

© chaconnenha ( ALL RIGHTS RESERVED )

[chaotic-mystery]

Better Luck Next Time

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: this was from a request I got recently asking for dbf Joel and premature ejaculation and I hope you like it!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, porn w little plot, age gap but not specified, established secret relationship, handjob, fingering, nipple play, pet names (little one, good girl, baby doll, etc) Joel is over the fucking moon for you, premature ejaculation, embarrassment of shooting too early, mentions of masturbation and phone sex. LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING. || word count: 1.6k || photos are for aesthetics, reader is not described physically || no use of yn ||

“I missed you so much baby, god damn you’re even more beautiful than the day you left.” His words smashed against your lips as he grabbed at your waist to pull you on top of his lap, your legs slipping to either side of his thighs. You were only gone for two weeks on vacation to your friends but to Joel it seemed like two months. 

“I missed you more, Joel. I really missed you.” You purr as your hands run down his sides and begin to palm his hardening bulge through the faded pair of jeans that was shielding you from what you wanted. The entire time you were away, he would send lewd photos of him playing with himself, building up this big talk about how he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, he’d take you down all night, the stuff you heard almost every night for those two weeks when he’d call you in the middle of his alone time.

“Can’t believe the way you jumped on me in front of your dad, sweetheart. Tryna get me killed, huh? You miss me that much?” Joel's teeth sink into the skin on your neck and you chuckle slightly as you try to yank his zipper down and the button free. “I’m so hard for you baby, god damn it hurts so good.” You somehow manage to fish out his throbbing cock that was spilling pre-cum from the slightly swollen and red tip. His head tilts back against the couch as soon as you wrap your palm around him, tugging slightly and circling over the head before going back to the base of his shaft. “Of course I missed you, you made it hard considering you’d call every night and let me hear you touch yourself thinking about me.” The teasing tone in your voice had his heart racing and you kissed his exposed neck slowly, matching the rhythm of your hand on his cock.

Joel hisses as he grips your ass roughly, “f-fuck baby, keep that up and I’ll do anything for you, such a good girl.” The way his moans poured from his mouth  made you impatient for that filling feeling of every inch of him inside of you, telling you how pretty you look as he splits you open.

His grunts grow louder and his arms extend over the back of the couch while the pair of dark brown heavy eyes stare at your hand that had all the power over him. Your breathing started to pick up and almost match Joel’s while your cunt was thumping inside your saturated panties just at the way you could see how needy he was for you. You subconsciously started to ride his thigh to give yourself a little release and he took note of it, grabbing the plush skin on your hip and squeezing for you to go faster. 

“That’s it, baby doll -ohh shitt- you’re so beautiful, sweetheart. You do such a better job at this than me.” He huffed and adjusted on the couch cushion, scooting down just a bit for you to ride him better. Joel liked the feeling of your panties on his jeans, painting the fabric with your arousal. 

The pair of you were panting harder with every motion of your wrist and hips, Joel’s name was drenched in lust as you moaned out for him. His chest rises and falls quicker the more you rubbed the underside of the head and he grabs your wrist, “Baby, wait hang on don’t-ahh-” without warning Joel’s cum was pooling in your fist and down your knuckles like a volcano. 

Joel grunts through gritted teeth with every pump from the tip of his cock as he empties himself in your hand. You sit still while he finishes and he reaches over to the tissue box on the coffee table and hands you a wad, helping clean up the mess that dripped down onto his groin. 

The room falls quiet as Joel sets the tissues to the side and tucks his soft cock back into his underwear. His deep sigh caused you to look at his face and you could tell by the redness of his face how embarrassed he was. 

“I um..I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to..” Joel stopped himself as he clenched his jaw and met your gaze, his hand still on your hip and squeezed softly. This was new territory for the both of you. You had never been in a situation like this before but it was nothing to be ashamed about. “Baby it’s fine, really. It happens, you were just too excited to see me.” You try to lighten the mood but he wasn’t responding the way you had hoped. Reaching out and cupping his face gently, your thumb brushes over his cheek to reassure him you’re okay.

“Hey, cmon now. Don’t be embarrassed please..it was actually kinda fun seeing you so worked up over me and trying your best not to come.” Your words sandwiched between your lips and his cheek as you kissed softly, trailing to his lips until he finally pecked you back. 

“It’s just so embarrassing, I can't keep up with a youngin’ like you all the time.” Joel tries to turn away from you but the grip you have on his face restricts him from doing so. 

“Joel I don’t care, I just like taking care of you. The rest doesn’t mean shit to me.” More kisses are plastered on his lips and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He pleads as he trails his soft kisses down your jaw to your neck and chest, kissing the tops of your breasts. What started out as loving exchanges of affection turned quickly into lustful nips at your skin with faint groans every moment his lips touched you. Before you could react, Joel was yanking down your shirt and bra, exposing your beautiful breasts he looked at like a starving man. 

Joel’s warm tongue licked a stripe up your hardened nipple and pinched the other one firmly as he closed his eyes and began to suck and bite, tugging with his teeth to get your attention. Yanking out moans from you was so easy for him, he didn’t have to do much. Hell, he could yawn and stretch and his shirt could ride up just a little on his stomach and you could moan at the sight of it. “You’re so good to me little one, what’d I do to deserve you? Should I make you come since you’re so good to me?” 

His free hand unwraps from your waist and travels up your skirt to your aching cunt and Joel’s thick fingers start to taunt your clit from outside your panties. “Yes, Joel, please I need you so bad, don’t you feel it? You feel how turned on I am watching you come too fast and getting bashful about it?” You teased and with that he shoves your panties to the side, fingers instantly finding your clit and rubbing tight little circles over it. He growls against your breasts as he sucks on the other one, your hand cupping the side to help it in his mouth more. “Yes yes yes, that’s it, just like that, please Joel.” 

You can feel the grin grow on his face as he plunges his fingers deep inside your entrance, the squelching making you blush while he starts to pump in and out of you, taking his saturated fingers to your clit to rub a few circles before going back inside you. “Oh, that’s my good girl, you like it when I touch you here?.” He rhetorically asks to be an ass, sucking on your nipple harder as he curls his fingers to get inside you. 

“Y-yes, baby -oohh fuckk- please don’t stop-p” You sputter out, your body trembling the more he toyed with you. The thought of your dad coming back from getting food any moment was running through your head and only made this hotter. What would he say if he found you like this on Joel’s lap, his hand in your panties and his lips attached to your tits for dear life? His best friend taking his daughter like this? 

Hips bucking with every motion of his hand, you could tell you were close and ready to let go all over him. “Joel-I’m gonna c-come- don’t stop don’t stop-ooo!” With a squeal and your legs trying to close shut, your pussy clenches around his fingers as you dissolve into pleasure while Joel’s tongue licks over both nipples, fingers just barely thrusting inside. The raging lust coursed through your veins and you kissed him passionately, still grinding on his fingers until you couldn’t move anymore. Joel pulls away and leans back against the couch, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into him and take a second to breathe. 

“Welcome home, baby doll.” He whispers with a chuckle and rubs your back.

The deadbolt on the front door in the other room brings you right back to Earth and you fly off Joel, shoving your tits back into your bra and adjusting your panties under the skirt that was riding up your waist. Joel hurries and grabs the tissues and walks them to the bathroom garbage, staging it to look like he just finished in there. 

“Who’s hungry?” Your dad asks, walking into the room with a brown sack of warm take out. 

Joel stood behind him and you two exchanged looks, big grins plastered on your instead answering your father.

[b1mbodoll]

CNC HEESEUNG THOUGHT AHHHH

my mouth starts drooling at the thought of heeseung trying to “force” himself into me

pairings: lee heeseung x f! reader

warnings: cnc / can be read as noncon + creampies + degradation + manipulation + impact play + breeding + babytrapping + dacryphilia + pregnancy + mindbreak + daddy kink + overstimulation + objectification

💌: i blacked out writing this i don’t know what happened :T

“hee!” you cry, sobs wracking your chest as you try to push him away, shoving at his strong chest with your hands. “daddy, stop! don’ want it, please stop.”

heeseung doesn’t bother to stop and tears your panties with ease, licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt. despite how you wail and struggle he knows you want this, you want his cock rearranging your insides and it makes him impossibly hard when you act like you don’t.

he presses his lips to yours harshly, teeth against teeth and saliva dripping down your chin making him groan into the kiss. he kisses you until the lack of oxygen makes you slap him across the face, his cheek red and stinging from the pain.

gasping when you realize what you did you look up at your boyfriend, mouth opening and closing while you try to figure out what to say. “daddy, i’m so sorry — ” you trail off, fear making your heart pound in your chest. heeseung’s so angry now, clenching his jaw and staring you down intensely it makes you shudder.

“don’t act all sorry now, little one. i know you jus’ want daddy to fuck you like a dumb whore, isn’t that right? just need my cock fuckin’ a baby into you so you stop acting like a god damn brat, hm?” his tone is sharp, the bite in his voice leaves you with no other choice but to submit to him. “use your big girl words and tell me the truth.”

you’re quick to obey his orders, jutting your bottom lip out as you look at him, vision blurry with unshed tears. “seungie, ‘m so sorry,” you whine. “i didn’t mean to!” his hands grip your sweet face, thumbs wiping away your tears while you struggle to voice your thoughts. “but i don’t want it, daddy. can’t take it today.”

heeseung knows you don’t mean it, but your whiney voice does nothing except make his cock twitch, precum dribbling from his slit and seeping through his pants.

he wastes no time stripping, ridding himself of his clothes before lining the tip of his cock with your drooling cunt, coating his length in your juices because although he’s completely disregarding your wishes he doesn’t want to rough you up too much. “you’re such a little bitch.” he taunts, gritting his teeth as your tight walls accomodate to his cock and squeeze him just right, wet pussy squelching loudly when he bottoms out.

“be fucking quiet,” he pulls out til just his cockhead is inside, watching your hole clench around him. “just fucking take it, ‘s all you’re good for anyway.” you can’t bring yourself to reply properly when he bullies into your heat, your mouth falling open as he fucks you stupid.

your tummy feels so full, making you gasp every time his tip presses painful kisses to your cervix, sometimes even threatening to fuck into your little womb when he manipulates your body in a way that allows him to reach deeper. heeseung is completely drunk off the feeling of fucking you raw, feeling even more sensitive than usual as his bare cock drags against your inner walls, your pussy trying to milk him of his thick cum with each squeeze.

maybe he’d truly believe you didn’t want him to breed you if you weren’t moaning like a slutty little pornstar and if he couldn’t feel the way you suck him in, your hole welcoming the feeling of him battering your pussy and rearranging your insides.

“you didn’t want it huh?” you can hear the smirk on his face, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath and get used to how hard he fucks into you, “then why’s your nasty little cunt tightening up around me? it’s leakin’ so much too, ‘s cus you’re a fuckin’ slut, right?” he taunts, slapping your ass before continuining. “so stupid for dick you let me do this, fuck — ” he hisses, “still take it like a champ even after whining about it like a crybaby.”

his degrading words make you keen, pussy creaming around his cock and he fucks you through it, “holy shit, i’m gonna knock you up, slut.” his words are slurred and his mind hazy, struggling to keep his pace. “need to breed you, gotta let everyone know you belong to me.”

“no heeseung stop! i’m serious!” you put up a fight, squirming and twisting beneath him but it’s no use, body betraying you as exhaustion creeps up, making you go limp and take what he chooses to give you.

your voice is raspy and your scratchy throat has you wincing when you speak, “please, don’t cum inside.” despite your protests, the grip your pussy has on his cock is intense and heeseung grunts one last time before he’s spurting hot ropes of sticky cum directly into your womb, piercing your cervix in the process.

overstimulation pricks your nerves and the feeling of his cum flooding your insides causes you to sob, shaking as heeseung continues to violate your sore cunt. he doesn’t care whether or not you feel good from this, selfishly using you to chase his release over and over until he’s shooting blanks and sure you’re carrying his baby, stuffing his fingers in your cunt after pulling out.

“sorry baby,” he coos and presses a kiss to your temple when you jolt. “don’t wanna waste it, right? we gotta make sure it takes.”

you nod at his words without bothering to process what he’s saying, too fucked out to care about getting pregnant. after all, you wanted it, right?

[artyandink]

necessary precautions

Summary: You and Dean hadn’t really gotten to this stage before. You were partners in hunting, not in that way. But when you’re trying to plant a bug and camera in a room at a gala, you realise that you have a lot more underlying chemistry than you thought possible. Even though it’s an act. Even if you both think you’re not good enough for each other.

A/N - Yet another drabble (promise I’ll get to the fics guys, I just have too much creative juice where this is concerned)

You were having a hard time keeping your head. Especially when Dean’s fingers were pressing into your waist like that.

You two stumbled through the door, you first and Dean after as his hands regretfully left you to let his blazer drop to the floor with a soft thud, the sound of your lips connecting over and over again the only sound outside of your hot breaths mingling in the small gap between your lips. And that problem was quickly resolved by them melding together again, soft and pliable to each other’s whims.

Fast, hard, but oh, so sensual with the way his hands traced your form like he was sculpting some damn fine art.

“God, baby,” Dean murmured, his tie next to go as you both struggled to keep a grip on reality. Dean found himself hooked, hooked on the feel of your plush lips on his after all this time. All this time of waking up in a sweat to the dream of your lips all over him, on his neck, chest, abs- from your position straddling him, grinding long and slow. Open-mouthed and yours.

Line and sinker when he finally registered the intoxicating flavour of morning coffee, beer, and whiskey (a woman after his own heart), and then he was hit with the dizzying aroma of your floral perfume, mixed with the smell of the bakery you got his pie from and topped off with the hit of sweet, sweet pheromones- lord help him.

You couldn’t get enough of his calloused hands on your body, feeling up every inch, over your waist, pushing and pulling your hips in a way that had you almost letting out a real moan, tangling in your hair and pulling so he could deepen the kiss, which made the moan fall past anyway and had his eyebrows raised slightly at how convincing that was.

He had you two stumbling further into the spacious room, eyes open and quickly scanning until he tugged on your hair twice, a signal that the room was clear that allowed you to pull back and try and scan the room for a good place to put the bug and camera that you had on your person. He mouthed at your neck, the hint of teeth and tongue nearly having your knees shaking and giving way under you had it not been for your (quickly wavering) focus.

Ok, so… there’s a bed, but not too central. His lips finding that spot on your neck with such precision it had you whimpering. A couple chairs strewn here and there. His hands disappearing under your blouse to map out every little freckle on your back, pulling the band of your bra and snapping it against your heated skin. A big-ass table in the centre of the room. His lips finding your pulse and teasingly sucking.

Wait- a big-ass table. In the centre… of the… room…

You found the cold surface of the table prick at the back of your thighs, finding that Dean had already got you there and had lifted you up, rucking up that pencil skirt.

God, that tight little skirt drove him up the wall. And he was climbing higher up it.

“Look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” He murmured at his position of attacking - for lack of a better word - your neck, his hand massaging at your left knee, moving steadily up, rolling the softness between his skilled fingers, inching to where you were aching for him. To where you were waiting for him.

Until his hand stopped, withdrew from its position tantalisingly close to your panties and quickly planted the bug and camera. That he got from the thigh holster strapped to you, from underneath your skirt, which he then pulled down to protect your modesty.

Even if that lace was rendering him insane.

Your breaths were both laboured, no words exchanged as your eyes stared into his own mossy ones and his back at yours, his swollen, slightly reddened lips parted and craving yours. His hand gripping your hair again, nose bumping yours and ready to taste you on his tongue-

The door burst open, snapping you out of your session, with a singular shifter walking in, one who knew you both as the FBI agents from earlier. How did you know? The building you were in belonged to a shifter mafia, who were holding a charity gala of all things this very night. You and Dean had just finished questioning and needed to put a bug and camera in their main room so Sam - who was now waiting in Baby - could keep an eye on what was being said and done.

You forgot that detail when Dean’s hand had slid over your ass to grip your thigh, strong, firm and possessive. And it was buried in the back of your head when you tasted apple pie, whiskey and burger grease on his tongue; smelt old leather, cologne and his body wash.

So now you had to improvise, putting a hand on your chest, gasping and giggling in embarrassment while Dean turned his body, sliding a firm arm around your waist, like he was stating that you were his. God, you wished you were. “Oh! Sorry, we thought this room wasn’t, y’know, occupado. Just needed to have some privacy, right, babe?” You turned to Dean expectantly, who chuckled and turned to the shifter with a lick of his lips and a grin.

“Just snuck away for a moment.” He smirked, inclining his head to you as his hand inched slowly downward. “Couldn’t keep my hands off this one. Especially when she’s wearin’ that pretty, little skirt.” He punctuated his sentence with a sharp slap to your ass, which surprised you, but you covered it up to a swat of his dress-shirt covered chest (that was way too taut on him to be legal) with a laugh.

“Stop that, you’ll get me going again.” You found acting Dean’s hormonal girlfriend was easier than expected, considering the odds of the alarm being sounded that you weren’t really there to get down and dirty. You faced the shifter with a real forced love-sick grin, biting your lip briefly.

And Dean’s eyes totally weren’t on your plump, pink bottom lip and wishing it was his teeth worrying it like that.

“Can’t keep my hands off this one. Hard to when you have a man that’s so handsome, firm and… forbidden.” As a spot of payback, you slapped Dean’s ass in return, which had him jolting slightly, eyes darting everywhere before looking to his feet and smiling to himself with a pump of his eyebrows. Was it bad to think that was hot?

What?! He liked his women possessive. Or more so he liked you possessive, but he’d never say that. He’d die again before he did.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to play it off. “Anyway, we’d appreciate if you kept this on the DL, away from our associate, Agent Pierce. Tall, with the hair.” He gestured up to his head, referencing Sammy’s gorgeous hair. “He’s a real prude.”

You faux-scoffed in agreement, internally apologising to Sam. Dean wasn’t. “Oh, yeah, that guy. He’s a real suck up to the big boys back in DC.”

“A grass to the brass.”

“Puts the tittle with the tattle.”

“Can’t keep his mouth good and shut.”

“Snitches get stitches, am I right? You know the type.” You waved the shifter off with a small, rich laugh. “And I’d like to keep my job, see this hunk lookin’ all delicious in a suit.” You gently tapped Dean’s chest, then you realised that you had to get out of there before things got overly hormonal and suspicious.

“You’re the one who’s lookin’ goddamn edible, doll.” Dean drawled, nuzzling your neck with his nose, his acting skills surprisingly good. You kept on having to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. Disappointingly.

“Anyway, well, we have to head out before Agent Pierce gets suspicious.” You hopped off the table, picking up Dean’s blazer and tie, having him hold it while you did his tie up like a good fake girlfriend. “There we go, hon.”

“Always making sure I look good, baby.” He kissed your cheek quickly, and as you strutted out in those goddamn heels with a wink back to Dean, your hair messy, cheeks flushed, hips swaying and lipstick smeared, he let his eyes roam over your ass framed in that skirt with a lick of his lips, seeing the shifter guy doing the same- wait, what?!

Now, that was downright unacceptable. Only Dean got to check out your ass. Wait, that came out wrong. You weren’t even his.

Though he wished you’d be. Then he’d get to kiss those lips like that and actually breach second base.

“Quite a girl you got there, Agent.” The shifter guy smirked, looking at Dean with an impressed nod. “Fiery.”

Dean chuckled, nodding and stepping closer. “Yeah.” He bent so his mouth was right by the monster’s ear, even though he was itching to get out his silver knife and finish the job, talking in a rough tone that made the shifter forget he was a monster. “Look at her like that again and I’ll break your face.”

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