#i straight up cried half of the show

[sofokl13]

*gives one public speech*

*fucking falls into a coma*

[slttygeto]

tags: pure filth, fem! reader, established relationship, use of a vibrator, squirting, dirty talk.

word count: 1k

sex with suguru could only be described as unpredictable. sure, you were able to detect hints of lust thrown your way by the tall man, thick and rough pads of his fingers skimming over your smooth skin underneath your shirt as he passes behind you, hands gripping your sides and squeezing. your body reacts to his teasing and it’s easy to follow him to the bedroom. he feels in control, likes that sweet words and soft touches can make you end up on top of him, riding his dick like the sweet girl that you are.

however, when the two of you are…excessively needier than usual, sex can turn into something sort of animalistic. the carnal desire to devour one another, bring as many orgasms out of each other and the sounds—the sounds should embarrass both of you.

suguru doesn’t consider himself to be extremely vocal. he groans, moans and shows his appreciation for your ministration on his body but right now—his mouth won’t stop.

“yeah baby, yeaaah,” his words are straight up filth as he presses the vibrator to your clit. his pace is unforgiving, strong hips driving into yours with the force of a predator hunting. your hands are on the headboard, trying to protect your head from the contact but it’s all hazy.

“suguru!” you cry out, eyes staring down at where your boyfriend is pressing the pink vibrator against your clit. your legs try to close from the overstimulation, but a strong hand keeps them open and your head turns to the side with a loud cry.

“keep em open for me, fuck—don’t run away from it, I know you want it.”

your hand grips at the pillow beneath you whilst the other makes a failed attempt at gripping suguru’s forearm. choked sobs and whines are the only sounds you can manage as he starts rubbing the vibrator over your clit, your thighs shaking and twitching at the unbearable yet delicious stimulation.

“yeah? pussy wants a fat cock ruining her and a vibrator, a lil greedy, don’t ya think?”

as he says that, his free comes to your stomach and traces the skin with his thumb, very gentle at first and your brain feels like mush at the contrast between his brutal fucking, the vibrator and his gentle touch. but you should’ve known that suguru is the type to softly lead you into his territory, only to jump you the moment he notices that you let your guards down.

the hand on your stomach presses down and you hear several clicks on the pink device, and when your body jolts up—you realize that he set the level higher.

the gasp that escapes your body sounds inhuman, and your body tries to run away from suguru despite being caged between his strong thighs. he is fucking you with a purpose, needing to prove something—he towers over you and presses his forehead against yours.

“look at me, come on baby look up—theere she is,” he grins at your fucked out expression, half lidded eyes glossed over with tears that had already fallen a couple of minutes ago. “feels good, huh? should’ve done this sooner,” he leans down and kisses your pulse and then travels back up to your cheek and finally your ear.

when he starts fucking you at a different angle, your hands fly down to his hips and your nails dig into his skin. you can’t talk, you don’t trust yourself with words now—but suguru always thought you were like an open book to him. especially when naked and vulnerable beneath him.

“oh here?”

“fuck! fuck fuck fuck—“ you choke out a sob. “suguru—oh baby, I’m close, I’m so so close,” you’re blabbering, barely breathing and suguru’s self control is slowly dissipating. up until this point, he’s been able to control himself and not explode inside you. your cunt was squeezing him deliciously, your cries, the way you said his name or how you held onto him—suguru needed to cum inside you.

“yeah you are,” he breathes out, any hint of playfulness overshadowed by the sudden lust washing over him. his orgasm crept up on him fast, and he needed to make sure you fell over the edge first. “come on, I know you can cum for me,” he says while rubbing the vibrator over your clit.

when you finally cum, the added pressure of his hand on your stomach makes something snap in your stomach and you feel wet. you don’t have time to register, everything is like white noise for a while before your brain leisurely takes control again. your breathing slows down, yet your hands hold onto suguru’s shoulders as he throws the vibrator somewhere in the corner of your bedroom to grab onto your hips properly.

his eyebrows are pinched, a sheen layer of sweat coating his forehead as his bangs stick to the skin. he looks magical, even more so when you start to fuck up into him, help him reach his own orgasm.

“fuck baby—“

“mmm sugu,” you whine at how his dick keeps abusing that one spot inside you. “cum baby, please,” your arms wrap around his neck to pull him down into a hug. “fill me up, I want all of it,”

when being the one talked dirty to, suguru malfunctions. his brain short circuits and his body seizes up as he drops his head on your shoulder. he empties himself inside you with a few more stuttered thrusts, thick and hot ropes of cum serving as the reward of his hard and incessant fucking.

running your fingers through his hair, both of you take the time to catch your breath, enjoy the intimacy and the nakedness of it all. moments like these are precious, suguru’s body nuzzles against yours like a cat trying to live in your skin— and you giggle when his nose nuzzles against your pulse.

“ya liked the vibrator?” he mumbles against your skin.

“oh fuck—“ the realization hits you that were all messy from squirting on him. “I…came messy,” the shyness that washes over you, preventing you from saying “squirt” makes suguru laugh into your neck.

“you mean you squirted?”

“not the point!”

note: another self indulgent piece. will i ever stop? no.

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[lylianrae]

A list of all the things I have manifested ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪

We manifest everything in our lives btw - the good and the bad which is why I will be including both to prove that the law does not discriminate. If you can successfully become poor, you can most definately become rich with the same ease because everything is just a state.

Long hair

AHH this is one of my favourite manifestations. Ever since I was young I had a weird bob with a fringe (often crooked) and I wanted long hair like all the other girls (lmaoo) but my mum was strict so she didn't let me grow it out. Although I didn't know about manifestation back then, every new year and birthday I would wish for long hair and I would pretend I was a princess with butt long hair. Guess what, somewhere along the line, my mum let me grow it out and now I have butt length hair (don't really know what to do with it tho </3).

As all kids do, I went through an emo phase where I chopped off like half of my hair like 4 years ago. I literally grew back 7-8" of hair within a month because my parents got too mad. I knew about manifestation here so I just assumed my hair always grows unaturally fast. Same with when I cut bangs, they grew past my chin within a couple of weeks.

Manifesting my way into a private school

Honestly this just shows that you dont need 2430430 hours of working on your self concept to manifest. Literally so many celebs, including Marylin Monroe (the queen), manifested their fame with awful self concept. Likewise, here I was possibly going through the worst time of my life back then. I would wake up at 8 am and start studying and end at 11 pm despite being only 10 at the time. I was so freaking stressed and envious of all the other children and went into a depressive spiral where my two options were pass or die. I didn't even have enough practice and I cried my self to sleep on most nights. Anyways, when i did the exam I was deathly calm and even after the exam I was apparently so chill so my parents thought I failed.

I literally left 9 questions on one paper but throughout the summer, everytime I found a dandelion I would make a wish and imagine digging a tunnel to the examiners room where I secretly change my answers into the right ones (lmfao my tiny 10 yr old brain - idek how it worked). Anyways my results were sent back to me a month later on a random October evening and I got a really high mark. Even after 7 years of going to this school I havn't met anyone who has gotten a mark higher than mine.

Curly hair / straight hair

Sigh. We always want things we don't have. When I was younger I had really straight hair like 1A asian hair but when I was like 10, I really wanted curly hair and I would try to curl it often. After a few months, I manifested a curling iron and my hair literally became naturally curly like right after a wash it would curly af when before it was dead straight. Naturally I grew bored of it and I wanted my straight hair back and for ages I began overcomplicating the law and struggled to manifest it. It was only recently when I actually let go of the 3D that I manifested the silky, shiny straight hair.

Social life?

This is also a funny one, just shows how easily you can manifest. So back in 2021 after lockdown I felt so lonely and felt so left out of my friendship group so after a few months I began stressing myself out and spiraling for like 30 minutes, sobbing to myself about how I was so lonely and how nobody loved me (💀). Anyways it became reality, I found myself uncomfortable in many social situations and found myself becoming forgotten far more easily. I don't really remember the details but it was so bad that I think I accidently manifested social anxiety (oh well we still up tho).

However I am a loa girly so I found myself listening to popularity subliminals and slowly (but surely) my mindset change from having no friends to being the most popular girl in the year. Like no joke I became friends with like 3 people from different social circles so at lunchtime we had to join up like 3 different tables so we can all sit together. Overall I got myself 20+ close friends and even my ex friends began to admire me although it had ended badly. Even now, when someone says something thats untrue - for example saying that they are dumb when they are not, they would be like "ahaha so its like when Rae (me) says she has no friends, the whole school knows who Rae is".

Clear skin

This was sort of in the beginning of my loa (law of attraction back then) journey, I just randomly found out what subliminals were and was still quite new to everything. Now I don't even understand how it happened but I had busted some capillaries under my skin and it looked like small red viens under my skin and bro I was freaking out at the time. One night I was like just, I had enough, I'm going to get myself better skin and so I listened to a sub once for 3-4 days and on like the 4th day, my cheeks began to heat up which was odd and the next day it was 90% gone. Just like magikkkk.

Desired university?

Guys. Feeling is the secret. Don't you ever forgot that - not feeling as in emotions but rather the feeling of knowing. I had 2 entrance exams to do to apply for my universities and it was a stressful time where I wasn't getting enough sleep and wasn't eating enough simply because I didn't have the time. Like I come home from school and would have 3-4 hours of homework, then I need to revise for tests and then the remaining time would be spent on the entrance exams. Each past paper took 2 hours and I have around 13s per questions and I was already struggling on time. Anyways, I began to hate them and I would often complain to my mum saying things like "My score got even lower!!" or "I hate it so much" or "My head hurts / eyes hurt".

Guess what? Not only did I see my score decrease over time but I also made such a silly mistake on the most important entrance exam which I needed for 4/5 of my universities. I left a question and completely forgot to mark on the answer so when I finished the section I realised I had one more space on the sheet with like 10s to spare. I didn't have enough time to go back and fix it and lemme say that I did so badly in the test. Even while waiting for results I was just like "ah it would be a miracle if I scored above this bla bla".

I got the score back and it was so freaking bad like I did not stand a chance at my university at all. However, I started to affirm for a place and to my utter shock and surprise my desired university reached out and offered me an interview. I knew people who had like scores which were 50% better than mine and they still got rejected pre-interview. Anyways I began stressing about the interview and the results of the whole thing and boom. I got rejected 3 days after my birthday lmaoo. But its okay because I'm reapplying and I learnt so much more. I'm redoing the entrance exam and my score is a loooot better than it ever was last year.

A key take away would be thoughts are the result of the state you are in. Your dwelling state manifests and I was focusing on the unrealness and the difficultly of getting into this uni and thats what manifested. At the time I was heartbroken and literally went through the 7 stages of grief and spent so many months trying to revise it only for me to focus on the 3D. Just know that everything is done in imagination and it appears in the 3D as a result.

Photographic memory

So this is also something I had manifested before I actually knew about loa but the takeaway here is that manifestation is always instant. I was around 11 reading a random book on my tiny kindle and the book was on how to develop a good memory and I was like ah that'll be useful. Anyways later in the car, I asked my dad about photographic memory and he sort of explained it to me. I just assumed that I have that and I told him I do. He just laughed at me and said thats something that you have to train for and I was not impressed lmao. Inside my tiny brain, I was just like nope, I already have photographic memory and I dropped that thought. Let me tell you, my memory is actually photographic and has helped me out on so many occasions like my brain just takes pictures of things.

Learning fast

This is also something I did before I knew loa, I was just always wondering why the other kids couldn't grasp concepts as easily as I did. Literally in every lesson I would be like ah I learn so fast and now I am actually blessed with the ability to grasp complex subjects so fast. A favourite example of mine would be when I was obsessed with music but to take it to a higher level you need to be able to play an instrument. I couldn't at the time and my teacher told me the requirements a week before the actual deadline. I have never actually played piano with both hands but one day I sat down and worked through the entire song (fur elise by Beethoven) which is a grade 5 (I think) and it normally takes people months / weeks to learn. I learnt the whole thing in 3 days and from then on, I could play piano like I had been doing for ages. Again the memory thing was so helpful because I never actually used any sheet music, I learnt it off a youtube video and I remembered every single note I needed to play.

Hourglass body + 22" waist

This was a couple of years ago when I actually didn't understand loa. Anyways long story short, I would do a 3 minute workout and then flex infront of the mirror all day (💀) and be like omg I have abs. Overtime, I actually got so skinny everyone around me kept pointing it out to me and my mum got so concerned that she took me to the doctor like 4 times. It was so funny, I would loose like 2-3kg overnight and my parents would have to buy better fitting uniform.

Bigger boobs

This was also back in the day (2021?) when I didn't understand how to manifest things easily af. I had an A cup but I wanted better boobies and I listened to like 2 subs for a week and I went to a B cup. But I just assumed I have a bigger cup size recently and I just skipped C and went to D+ (haven't measured in a long time).

I'm not done but I'm tired now bye bye

[hayatoseyepatch]

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Description: Sometimes In the heat of the moment, you don’t always make it to the bedroom. Here’s some scenarios of some of the windbreaker boys fucking you anywhere but your bed.

Characters: Jo Togame, Toma Hiragi, Hajime Umemiya, & Haruka Sakura

Word Count: 2.7k

Tags: fem!reader, public sex, rough sex, praise, degradation, dirty talk, penetrative sex, handjobs, oral (m!receiving), hair pulling, mentions of being caught, daddy calling, brat taming, slight sub themes in Sakura’s.

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a/n: This has been sitting in my mind for quite some time so I needed to get it out of my system. Also, this is my first time writing for Hiragi so please let me know what you think, I hope I did him some justice. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

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The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes off the walls of the empty auditorium like a crescendo. Togame especially loved fucking you in the abandoned auditorium because the beautiful sounds that you made for him reverberated off the walls in such a way that made your voice carry and come straight back to his ears. Only serving to make him want you to make more. “Jo please, fuck, what if someone comes.” You whimper, the fear of being caught overwhelmed by the pleasure you were feeling from the snap of his hips.

“Then they’d get quite the show, wouldn’t they princes??” He chuckles, deep and breathy in your ear. You feel the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment at the thought of someone walking in on you both. Seeing Togame’s large hands gripping the plush of your waist, your body clad in nothing save for his Shishitoren jacket as he fucks you into the hard linoleum floors of the stage. His deep laughter hits your ear once more, his voice coming out in that slow drawl that always served to send a rush of heat to your cunt.

“But… judging by the way your pretty pussy just clamped down on me.. I’d say you wouldn’t mind that too much.. would you baby?”

His grin is lazy and full of mischief when he pulls away, looking down at you with half lidded eyes as he drags his cock back, leaving only the tip of himself still inside before slamming his full length back into you in one harsh thrust. He sets a brutal pace after that, effectively cutting off any argument you had against his words, corners of your vision going blurry from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. “Jo, fuck, please” You cry out, your voice carrying in the empty auditorium so loud it had you attempting to cover your mouth to conceal the noises you were making, afraid someone passing by would hear.

His eyes darken, hips ceasing all movement, as he looks down at you with a lifted eyebrow. You were quick to remove your hand, knowing how much he loved to hear you and knowing he would come to a full stop until he could hear you once more. “Jo, please, ‘m sorry please don’t stop” He smirks at the sound of your begging, your voice carrying once more. “Thats right doll, let me hear you. I don’t want you to hold back a single fucking sound do you understand that darling?”

The sounds of his hips slamming against yours, the noises falling from both of your lips and the squelching of your wetness as he fucks into you filling the room once more. “You hear that pretty girl? Hear how fucking wet you are for me? How sloppy your pretty cunt has gotten for me angel? So good pretty girl, so good for me, my only complaint is how wasteful it is to have you dripping like this without me down there to lap up every fucking drop of your sweetness princess.” He continues the snapping of his hips recklessly against yours. Your cries of his name egging him on every syllable you let out going straight to his cock. Sure you both could fuck in your shared bed, but where was the fun in that? Especially when the sounds you make for him echo so deliciously off these walls and only spur him on to see just how loud you could get for him.

You had brought this on yourself, you know you did, but how could you be expected to control yourself while on the back if his bike? The two of you had gone on a late night drive on his motorcycle, he always looked so sexy driving his bike, his large hands switching gears as he rested them on the handlebars. His thighs straddling the bike as he drives it with ease, weaving in and out of traffic, head tilting back every so often to make sure you were okay. It had started innocent enough, your hands placed on his chest to keep yourself steady as he drove, feeling his muscles through the fabric of his shirt. Rubbing up and down as you rested your cheek on his broad back.

But as you watched him drive, your hands slid farther south. He had given you a warning glance, one which you ignored as you let your hands continue to wander. The vibrations of the bikes engine spurring your movements. The only thing separating you from the leather were your panties, wearing a skirt that Hiragi had warned you “was not proper riding attire”. You feel his breath hitch as your hands slid to his thighs , inching closer to where a tent was starting to form in those tight pants he always wears. Your fingers eventually curled around his hardening member, the bike lurching as he was caught off guard.

That was what led you to where you were now, your hair wrapped around Hiragi’s fist, him using it as leverage to arch your back further towards him. The two of you pulled over to the side of the road in a more secluded wooded area as Hiragi has you bent over his bike, taking you from behind.

“You can never behave can you, pretty girl? Here I was just wanting to go on a nice ride with my girl, but someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves could they?” Hiragi groans through gritted teeth. His eyes rolled back once more hearing his name slips past your lips hips bucking involuntarily as his cock head kisses your deepest parts.

Hiragi wasnt sure how much longer he would be able to remain his composure. His teeth sink into the crook of your neck, he cant control the roll of his hips at the words that slip from your lips. Cock throbbing in need. His hand is quick to slide to the inside of your thigh wishing he was able to see just how beautiful you were spread wide for him. He lets his fingers curl around your throat squeezing just enough to make gaining air flow a bit difficult, now using your throat as leverage to pull you back against him.

His sharp canines digging into the supple flesh of your neck as the thumb of his begins rubbing slow dragging circles against your puffy clit. “Take all of me princess, gonna fill you up so deep. Always so tight for me darling.” Cries of his name fall from your lips like a mantra, meeting his thrusts as best as you can, eyes rolling back from the intense pleasure. “I wanna come with you, Toma, please let me.” You whispered breathlessly as you reach the precipice of orgasm head fuzzy and thoughtless as your walls spasm around his cock.

Your release triggering his own as he paints your walls white. The two of you lean over the bike, attempting to catch your breaths. Hiragi slips from inside you, sliding your panties back in place, punctuating the action with a swift slap to your ass. “Now, lets see if we can finish this ride without me having to pull over again to take care of my needy girl, yeah?” He grins mounting the bike once more, both of you knowing this was far from over, anticipating what awaited you as you head back home.

He grins against your lips, head ducking down to take a hardened bud between his lips, tongue lolling against it, coming to a point to flick at the sensitive area before letting his teeth capture it. Pulling his head back to tug until releasing, pupils blows wide seeing the bounce of the plush flesh he was rewarded with. He was quick to give the other nipple the same treatment. Hands trailing from your ankles to your knees, forcing your legs apart further under his strong grip. He groans into your chest as he feels your hands on him hand making a trail up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the hood of your clit before rubbing slow agonizing circles as he continues his attention to your nipples.

Fingers slipping from your center, he grips your panties by the waistband, expertly sliding them from your hips leaving you entirely bare before him. Fingers digging into the flesh of your ass he pulls your hips flush against his own giving an experimental roll of his hips, hardened cock rubbing against your center.

“Thats right my pretty little kitten, my perfect fucken princess.” He groaned against your skin, head ducking to your neck once more, teeth sinking into the delicate skin tongue soothing the area. Now that he was sunk completely in, he gives an experimental snap of his hips, your pleas guiding each motion of his hips. He picks up the pace, angling his hips just right to nudge that sensitive spot deep inside you.

“Go on princess wanna hear you say my name angel, bet you cant even finish it can you my pretty baby.” He teases against your skin, hips picking up their pace. His hands hook under your knees, pulling you until your ass was hanging off the desk, so he could lay you back, both of you so caught in your actions that you hadnt noticed the red light flashing on the soundboard of the desk he had laid you on in the announcement room.

He presses your knees to your chest now able to hit a much deeper angle. Groaning a long growl of your name and a slew of profanities as the sound of his hips meeting yours fills the room. “You hear that princess? How wet my cunt is for me angel, sounds like a fucken symphony kitten.” He groans against your skin, hips slamming into yours “Fuck Hajime, please, I’m close. Wanna come, please let me Daddy.”

The coil had been tight in his abdomen, but he would hold out, he wouldnt allow himself to fall over the edge before you had. He picks up the pace once more, thrusts growing sloppy under the pleasure. His thumb quickens its pace pressing harder against the bundle of nerves. “Go on on princess, come for me, wanna feel those pretty walls clamp down on my cock. Fuuck just like that kitten” His movements growing erratic as you both were nearing your highs.

Just as you were about to be thrown over the edge the sound of loud bangs on the door fill your ears, swiftly jerking you and Umemiya apart from each other. It was only moments later that you heard Hiragi’s exasperated voice ring out. “Umemiya you idiot the loudspeaker, its on you dumbass!!” Your eyes blown wide cheeks flusing deeply at the knowledge that the entore school had heard you both for gods knows how long. Umemiyas boisterous laughter is all that is heard before the intercom goes off. “Oopsies silly me, well I guess theres no question of who you belong to know is there, babygir?” The smirk that grazes his lips making you question if that was an accident at all.

“Are you outta your fucken mind?!” Comes Sakuras harsh whisper, his face a deep maroon, his lips pressed to your ear to keep the words between you both. “Hm?” You barely acknowledge him, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly. As if you hadn’t just unbuckled his pants under the table at Kotoha’s restaurant. As if you weren’t currently sat across from Nirei, Suo, and Kiryu while pulling Sakura’s semi-hard cock from his pants. As if you weren’t wrapping your delicate fingers around his length, thumb swiping his tip to collect the precoma that was starting to bubble over the head of his cock.

“Are you alright Sakura?” Nirei asks innocently, unaware of what you were inflicting upon your poor shy boyfriend. Sakura’s eyes blow wide, the attention now on him, all while you never stopped your movements. Now pumping his length slowly, careful not to move your arm too much and reveal what you were doing. Sakura for once was grateful for Suo’s teasing, his words catching the attention of the other two males sat at the table with you both. “That’s our Sakura, always so bashful, he’s probably all flustered from sitting next to his girlfriend.” He claims his signature smile resting on his face. “Why don’t we go put in our orders, give poor Sakura some time to cool down, hm?” He says, standing the other two following him to the counter.

Sakura’s red face turns to yours sharply once they were out of earshot, grateful at least for the secluded corner booth you were both sat in. “Are you crazy?! We’re gonna get caught, knock it off.” He whispers sharply, only to be met with a grin from you. His body betrays his words, hips bucking to meet your movements. “What was that Haru? Cause it seems to me like you don’t want me to stop.~” You tease, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, looking over to see the boys caught in a conversation with the brunette at the counter. Taking advantage of their distraction as you slide quickly under the table. “Better be quick then, baby. Don’t want them to find out how much you’re loving this do you?”

You hook your hand on the base, tongue lolling out to lick a fat stripe up the underside of him, looking up at him with hooded eyes from under the table. You let your tongue circle his fat mushroom tip, letting your lips close around him, sucking his tip harshly. Sakura’s hand immediately coming to tangle in your hair and teeth coming down to bite on his bottom lip, harsh, to the point of drawing blood. In order to conceal any noises that would attempt to fall from his lips. He feels you lick the underside of his length, groaning loudly when he feels your tongue run along his sensitive tip. He attempts to make eye contact with you, but that doesn’t last long, face planting into the table to hide his reddened cheeks and any expressions that would give away what was occurring beneath the table. “We’re gonna get caught..” He whimpers, stuttering over his words from the pleasure you were giving him.

“Well you better be quick then, Haru.~” You tease, your words slightly muffled from the head of his cock. Resuming your pace, head bobbing up and down as you take more of him into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat. The feeling has him seeing stars. Hips now coming up to buck against your tongue, while his own lolled out of his mouth drool dripping down his chin. “Fuck baby, fuck you feel s-so fuckin, shit, gonna fucking burst if you keep that up.” He whimpers, his hips stuttering as the coil building in his abdomen threatens to snap. Humming against his length at his words, almost as if to say that’s the whole point. Quickening your pace, free hand coming to rest against his balls messaging them feeling the contractions. Your eyes locking with his from your position sends him over the edge. Sakura was quick to bite his knuckles, muffling his sounds as he comes down your throat. Swallowing another groan as he watches you swallow all of him. Jolting upright hearing footsteps approach, hurriedly tucking his softening member into his pants once more.

His eyes blown wide as the other’s sit down with their orders, settling themselves into their seats. “Hey, where’d y/n go?” Kiryu askes, tilting his head. Sakura scrambles for something to say in his post-orgasmic haze, only for you to cut him off popping up from under the table. “Sorry I dropped my spoon, I got it.” You giggle, faux-innocence lacing your tone. “Might need a new one though, this black and white milkshake is thick. Could barely suck it through my straw. Could I borrow yours baby?” You ask with an innocent smile, licking the corner of your mouth. Though the snort Suo lets out around the rim of his teacup tells you that he knew exactly what had just taken place. Sakura’s cheeks so red he thought he would die from blood loss on the spot.

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This was WAYYYY longer than I anticipated but it’s me, are we surprised?? This was so much fun might do a part two if im feelin frisky. But I hope you enjoyed, see you next time!

[jolalibrary]

be good, be quiet

joel miller x f!reader | joel masterlist

GIF credit to the amazing @perotovar who i adore, and i'm grateful adores me.

summary: bill tells you both you're sleeping in separate rooms when a thunderstorm doesn't allow you to leave. but joel isn't planning on getting any sleep.

wordcount: 3.7k warnings: post outbreak. smut. sneaking around (so to speak). p in v. fingering. joel angst. you riding joel. jo's spelling. praise kink. joel trying to keep you quiet (by sticking his fingers in your mouth). feelings, but joel-feelings.

AN: thanks as always to @thetriumphantpanda for leaving me comments in the document that made me feel less scared about posting. and also to @swiftispunk for being a cheerleader when i threw a snippet at her like a toddler with a drawing.

All unannounced, it rumbles in. Creeping in, bringing clouds that snuff light and immense claps of thunder. It’s the kind of storm that has lightning that even the shadows can’t hide from. Makes the house creak, groan—it pleading, weeping in its persistence to stand up straight and not cower.

It’s also the only reason the two of you are allowed to stay.

Joel hears the whispers, tuned in until they grow into near shouts in a room next to the one you and him are standing in. If you’re listening, you make no effort to show it—head turned, staring out as the rain thrashes down, eyes following certain droplets as they run down the pane.

Honestly, he doesn’t even want to fucking stay.

Had folded his arms to indicate as such when it was suggested. But, as he stares at you, he knows he doesn’t want you in it—recalling not all that long ago when you had shivered for days. You’d barely been able to speak full sentences as you remained curled in a ball he couldn’t unfurl, all cold to the touch, clinging to him as your teeth rattled in your skull.

It’s the only reason he’s grateful Frank forces Bill’s hand. His tongue piercing, delivering a fine—all razor-like, cutting, his voice booming that the two of you were to sleep in separate rooms.

He could have argued, could have glared, tilted his head—he didn’t. Not as the house shook with another crack of thunder, an idea sprouting, digging itself deep and blooming out across the wasteland living inside of him.

It’s why he plays along. Taking the fresh clothes, the offering of a shower, bidding you a goodnight loud enough for them to hear downstairs, a kiss to your cheek to sign it—burying a smirk under it all.

The whim pulsating, throbbing under his skin—not doused by the cooling temperature of the shower or his hand gripping the base of his half-hard cock. Memories, tinged with blackened edges brimming as he steps from the steam, thinking, ticking—

Waiting.

Waiting for the house to go mute in between the cries of the weather.

Waiting to strike, to prowl—a champion at it, awarded best in class.

Then, he tires from it.

Throwing the covers back, the soles of his feet meet the wood on the thunder. The ticking clock in the corner syncs with his racing heart, desperate to be quiet, maintain mouse-like footsteps, careful—as silent as he is when he moves through buildings that screech and click.

The door you’re behind is at the end of the hallway���shut, closed. A metaphorical do not disturb struck across it from the glare the two of you had been given before Bill had shrunk off to bed.

He didn’t care, not as the drops of water dripped from his hair down his neck, sliding under the fabric that didn’t belong to him. Fingers reaching out for the door handle, all set to twist, when it opens, metal pulled away from him—draping him and the dull flowered carpet in warm orange.

“Jo—“

He’s quick, hand smothering your exclamation, muffling your words. Covering them with his palm, enjoying how soft your skin feels even under it, as he raises his other hand, finger to his mouth—escorted by a glare, a silent order—before dropping it to your hips, grabbing, digging into you as he begins to walk you backwards. You move easily with him, pressing yourself flush to him, all trusting, reading him like a damn book.

“Were y’coming to find me?”

It leaves his tongue in a rasp.

And the look you give him makes his cock even harder than it already had been. Reminding him he’s too worn, too old to be doing shit like this—but fuck does he want to. Lay there, thinking of only you. Mind lost out at sea, bobbing along gentle waves of how you feel wrapped around him, that whimper you make when he flattens his palm to your spine, slides in, fills you, hips flush with yours.

You’re good, because you nod, no words—not making another noise. Your hand slips past him, shutting the door as your chest remains flush with his—the door happy, gleeful to return to its frame. He slides his hand from your mouth, moving to wrap it around the back of your neck, your chin tilted up without so much as a request.

Then, you smile, soft, almost innocent. But he knows you’re no angel—you’re something carved from molten and destruction, but fuck are you pretty. The kind that leaves an outline on the back of his eyelids. The kind that he suspects would turn heads, if you didn’t look like you wished to disembowel them for even looking. Plus, you’re always with him, eyes on him, enamoured, enchanted—

You shouldn't.

Not when he’s poison, slowly feeding you with drops—rotting your insides and blackening your soul. Watching you slowly being made in the shape of his past, carved, narrative rewritten and a future fading, before you get to live it, because of his company. A price scratched against your name.

But, you chose him—leave a mark, Miller. And he did, does. He paints himself on your spine, ropes of white whenever he can; he makes the juncture between your thighs slick with the mess he makes of you. More you whine, and that’s when it changed. When it became less about mindless distraction and more about possession, care, something else fucking entirely—

He pulls your ear to his mouth, your body relaxing, going limp—catching the scent of freshly washed skin. “Ima need you to be a good girl and be quiet. Can y’do that?”

Joel catches the smirk before you blink it away. Your teeth digging into your lip, nodding, catching the reflection of him as lightning floods the room—a sight that undoes him, affects him even though he’ll never show it. Because how much you want him scares him, makes him feel something other than numb, muted grief and disgrace.

The two of you don’t kiss, but he ghosts his lips over yours all the same. Something about the room makes it more intimate, romantic, normal.

“Not like you to break the rules.”

You snort, fingers knotting in his still-damp hair. “Well, I’m sure it’s equally not gentleman-like to sneak into a lady’s room.”

He grunts, and buries it in the back of his throat. Your tongue forces his hand, making him tug on the borrowed PJ bottoms you’re wearing. Palm flattening under the fabric covering your chest, resting it on your stomach, pausing, briefly feeling your heart beating, proof it isn't a fantasy, a dream, before sliding it down.

That’s when he focuses, basks in the feeling of nothing but the softness of your skin and the stories etched into it from surviving, from living. His fingers inching under the elastic and string, your eyes aflame, an inferno, and he wants you to burn him. Singe yourself into him, leave a mark, make it hurt.

“Stopped being a gentleman a while ago, honey.”

You’re wet. A truth two of his fingers feel, sliding them into your heat, suddenly enveloped by nothing but warmth and the sweet rose scent of the soap you washed your skin in. And it’s a comfort, eyes transfixed, all in awe as he watches you try to hold back a gasp—enjoying the way your nails dig into his neck, lashes fluttering and how you part your lips in a silent moan. He can make out what you’re saying is Joel. Each letter inscribed, even in a muted whisper. J-O-E-L.

He already decides he misses the way you sound. A new craving, a new need to make you sing—make your body break out into music, remind him how sweet something can sound when the world is nothing but grievous behaviour and murder.

It’s why he likes when your back is pressed to his chest, knees sore as he pistons in and out of you on the shitty mattress in the shitty room back in the QZ.

Because you can be loud, unfiltered.

There is no need to muffle back how good it feels what he’s doing to you, you can be unhinged, hiss his name, moan through gritted teeth if you’re trying to punish him. He hears them all the same, collects them. Stores them, and uses them to keep the last shard of him intact from all the loss and survival—the part of him he occasionally shows you. Usually in the dark, more morning than night, your chest flush to his back, not asleep, but not fully awake.

But, he can’t collect them here, can’t risk it here—slowing his movements down, hearing you fight it, struggling, being strangled by the moan you want to let breathe.

“C’mon baby, you know how to be quiet. Y’so good when we’re surrounded by clickers. This is no different.”

Narrowing your eyes, you whimper as the base of his palm catches your bundle of nerves. “You’re not—fuck, Joel—usually doing this when we’re surrounded by clickers.”

The corners of his lips twitch. It slides up into one of his cheeks, making a home there—all temporary, only something you seem to pull from him. “Guess I’ll have to help y’out then, won’t I?”

Your eyes narrow briefly before he does. Snaking two fingers—index and middle—past your lips, pressing down onto your tongue, continuing the movements of his other hand, the one pumping his fingers inside of you, coating himself in you.

He learns, quickly, that the pressure applied to your tongue does little to muffle your moan, but the clap of thunder smothers the rest. The way it bleeds out, shakes everything, allowing you a chance to whimper, whine and moan. Eyes digging into his, begging, pleading—

And, he could watch you for hours like this. At his mercy, hanging on the edge—shimmered with a light sheen of sweat and desperation swirling in your eyes. It’s the only time you’re weak, that you show him you can be vulnerable, soft, your edges smoothed down.

It’s why it takes him by surprise when he feels your tongue swirl around his fingers, sucking on them, staring into his fucking soul like you could repair all it had been through. Fuck he’d let you try when you look at him like that.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” he groans, sliding his palm from your face, resting it on the wall by your head.

“You’ve fucked me on a forest floor, Joel. Don’t act so surprised.”

He lets you have that one—rewarding you for it. Unable to tear his gaze away when you’re overcome with it, stilling, tensing, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you constrict, breathing laboured, rapid breaths before you slant his name across his lips. Stain it. Bury the gratitude and relief as you slide your tongue past his teeth, worming into another part of him, a place he realises he’s wanted you to own. Wants to swallow it, have you rooted under his skin—

“Get on the bed.”

“No,” you rasp, grasping his wrist from between your thighs, bringing his fingers to your lips, tongue swirling before you release them with a pop. “Floor. Bed creaks.”

Another flash, another rumble—it allowing him to take in the expression spreading over your face. The calm, sleepy edge to your smile, all thanks to him. It sears into his skull, makes a home, and buries into a crevice he’ll never be able to scrape you from.

Least of all when you turn, shedding your clothes without aid—stripping himself as you busy ripping sheets to the floor, pillows scattering, a teenager's sleepover dream strewn across the carpeted floor. One he has you lay down on, sliding his mouth over the parts of you he hasn’t yet touched—lapped and enjoyed. Leaving a trail, a path of desire against your skin, your nails finding a home in his scalp, awarding him with gasps, small medals compared to the trophy of before.

“Wanna go on top,” you mewl, hand on his, pausing his hips from connecting with yours. “Wanna ride you, Joel.”

“Think you can handle it.”

It’s perfectly timed, almost comically, the way lightning sparks through the room—your glare more than sharp, digging into him, spacing out his insides until he’s nothing but bone.

He knows you can, but he likes taunting you. Enjoys the way your eyes lick flames across his skin, that your tone can be curt with him, gaze sharpened, pointing.

Joel likes being under you. Has a fondness for the weight of you on him and how your thighs feel on either side of him. Mostly, he likes what it says—what it gives you. An assurance you never ask for and he can never provide, because he can’t give you much, a lot, anything. He’s not good, kind or soft—he won’t trace three words against your shoulder and fan his hand out over your back as he tells you you’re a tempest on two legs, a thing which takes his breath, makes him crave, makes him want, makes him wish.

“You can do it—can take it, take me.”

“I know,” you bite back, lining the head of him at your slit.

It almost makes him snigger. That fury in you, that little determined flame that won’t ever be doused, becoming an inferno in your indignation. So, he whispers your name, fingers crawling up your neck, watching the space your bodies join as you sink down on him.

And he’s in awe as your pussy swallows him, inch by inch, the lightest hiss from under your breath caressing the air as your hips go flush with his.

“Feel good don’t it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes closed, head rolled back fingers digging, half-curling into his stomach. “You always feel good, Joel.”

Your velvet wrapped around him, encasing him in warmth, all slick and needy. It tugs at him, and makes him for a moment feel like a man and not a carved-out monster who keeps fighting to live another day, for some reason or another. He supposes you wouldn’t let him have it any other way, would fight him and anyone else tooth and nail on it. You’re fierce like that, a difficult fucking thing he’s come across and now wishes to never lose.

“So big,” you whine in a whisper.

Lit up by the storm. It casts flickering shadows over your breasts over the muscles that contort as you roll your hips—if it lingered longer, he’d have been able to witness how wild your eyes were, how slick it is where the two of you are conjoined. Evidenced ruin, a sight he’d pull up in his mind when he’s alone, and you’re busy, and he pretends his fist is close to how you feel.

“Y’doin’ so well for me.”

Another flash grants him the chance to study your parted lips, the way your lashes hang over your cheek. It’s a sight, a fucking delight. An extra breath of oxygen and an anchor to keep him here all at once. A thing which didn’t cling, but had sunk its nails into him all the same—I’m not letting go, and you’re not going to ask me to.

You never say those words, but they hang—attached to string and bunting, a banner of sorts. One that isn’t wrong. A realisation that feels larger here than at the QZ. Surrounded by ornate white furniture and floral patterns, a room which has remained untouched, unspoiled—almost making him feel like a person he used to know. The one who he occasionally spots in the mirror, hanging back in his reflection.

It fucks with his mind. Makes him relaxed, and unwinds the stress from his bones as he plants his feet on the ground and rocks with you. Enjoys your moans, soft, bitten back but likely screamed in your head.

A thought beating inside him, all closed fists hammering on ribs: because he never thought he’d get attached to someone. Never mind someone who appears so otherworldly, likely created to threaten, but he finds only fascinating. A soul who unlocks things within him, finds a way through cobwebs and vines.

Someone who makes him wonder how passion and despair, adoration and darkness can all exist inside of him. Especially without losing the parts which he needs to live, to protect, to save—while keeping the parts that have you coming back to him.

He’s sure you see it, though. You understand him, having peeled back the layers in time and seen the decay which lives within his chest. You’ve even traced your fingers over his scars, ear close to them, as if they’ll spill all their secrets. Even without answers, you remain by his side.

It’s what makes this time different. So much so, he lifts your hand from his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles. All tender, soft. Your eyes twinkle, shimmering with something—lit up again—before he places your hand back and rests his hands on your hips, aiding you, helping you ride him, until he has a better idea, a better thought—

His palms almost lift you off him, just the tip remaining as you hover. Digging his thumb and fingers into your skin, leaving indents he can trace when he catches his breath, and he latches his mouth in the space under your breast. Kissing, drawing a circle with his tongue, before he sucks, nips. Intentionally leaving a flaw, signing his name in a signature only he’ll be able to admire—a piece of evidence that this is real, you’re real. Knowing it will be there in the trek back to the life the two of you live; present when you strip off and change, a blight on otherwise perfection, put there by him—another ruin in your life.

Because you could do better than him. A fact he knows, has put to bed but still occasionally turns over.

I chose you because you don’t expect perfection, you’re happy with just good.

Except, you’re more than good.

Your fingers brush over his cheek, soft, gentle. Far too much of both in his opinion. Then he lowers you back down, pussy taking every inch, the lightest hiss fluttering over him as he stares up at you. Transfixed, lost. Almost able to live a fantasy, allow himself to fall into a dreamlike state.

Because this, right in this room, could have been plucked from the world before. It normal, could pretend the two of you were in a room in some inn somewhere or a bedroom the two of you would have built together—hand-chosen ornate furniture and pleasant knick-knacks that adorn surfaces, wooden frames with pictures he could imagine you’d fill if this was real, and not a break in the reality.

“This what you wanted when you were coming t'look f’me?”

He sounds drunk, intoxicated, maybe he is. Having drank from you for so long, he’s more you than he is rotten. He assists you as he snaps his hips to yours, burying the thought in his movements. But, he’s breathing you in—tasting the air tinged with the two of you as you both pant, hunger rearing, desperate, wanting to collide and spark out across nerves, muscles and fucking bone.

Yes, you chant. Yes, yes, yes.

M’close, Joel. So close.

It falls in breathless swirls, a juxtaposition to how tight you are around him, knotting perfectly at the base of him. Sucking him in, keeping him rooted, the head of him finding that spot that makes your body loose and boneless.

“Doin’ so good for me, my good girl.”

So he fucks you harder, uncaring if the floorboards creak, if they protest and shout, he has to. A thing inside of him commanding it. This is all he can give, so give, give, give—

He feels your nails dig, half-moons slicing in—a new scar, one he’ll be thankful to trace. Next is your thighs and muscles tautening. Then, that flutter, the one he seeks, desperate to own, his prize, no one else's.

Mine, mine, fucking mine.

And, distantly, he’s aware he’s the one who pulls you down, but he’ll tell himself later it was you. Trick himself that you required it, even if it was he who needed it. His mouth slanting over yours, clinging to your jaw and cheek, tongue swirling over the moan that is bestowed to him, that hits and fucking pounds into him. Unable to hold on, barely a handful of thrusts before he’s grunting into your mouth, spilling into you, pouring unspoken words to the place between your thighs as you grasp at the tufts of hair on either side of his face.

Something about it makes you taste sweeter. A man like him should never get to experience it now, not this version of him, the act more forbidden, prohibited. It’s what makes him want to spread you out on the floor, lick the expanse between your thighs, taste the two of you—clean you with his mouth and smear you across his face until he’s dyed with the two of you.

Instead, he grasps you close when you collapse against his heaving chest. Palm, all rough, blotched with death, pressing against your cheek as he kisses you. Knowing he should get up and clean himself from between your legs; knowing he should go back to his room.

But he wants to remain on the floor. Enjoying this, whatever the fuck it is. Hand stroking your arm, your fingers drawing shapes as your mouth parts from him, flicking a warmer gaze over him, before lying on his chest.

Stay. Because of the storm.

It’s barely that, just droplets of rain occasionally kissing the glass of the windows.

But in his head, he wants to pretend a little longer. Live in some make-believe land that this is your two’s house, he found it—safety, built ease into your muscles, allowed the callouses to rid from clutching weapons you shouldn’t know how to use. That it’s just a night where the two of you can’t sleep, rather than it being a night where the two of you just feel safe.

“Sure,” he replies in a gruff. “F’the storm.”

Sighing in contentment, rather than annoyance, even if he knows there’s so much suspended in the air—words not spoken or shared.

He almost thinks he could. Almost thinks the moment calls for it—a little whisper, a selection of perfectly chosen words that would wrap you in the knowledge you mean something to him.

But, he thinks you know.

Hopes it, anyway.

AN: shout out to G, who had to listen to me ramble about this two months ago. i hope, once you read this, it's worth the wait.

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader - reader POV

You have a problem.

You miss your neighbor.

He's been gone for two and a half weeks, and every day you catch yourself holding your breath, listening for him next door. Watching for the light on his balcony, checking your phone relentlessly.

You've been worrying, anxiety turning into a gnawing ache beneath your ribs, wondering about how he is, what he's doing, if he's okay. If he's safe.

He'll text you. Right? When he's home? He said he would, didn't he? You're not sure. Not sure of anything when it comes to him, confusing thoughts and feelings turning over and over in your head every second, twisted up and tangled in your heart.

You've friend zoned yourself, you know it. Relying on him too much, asking him for help all the time, inviting him for dinners but too afraid to try to take the next step. And didn't you do it to yourself anyway? Didn't you ask him to babysit for you, so you could go out on a date with some asshole that didn't even show? He's your friend. He's your neighbor.

Yeah but he asked you to go for dinner, the night you were sick. And he rushed to you and Emma when that creep was following you in the park. Doesn't that mean something?

He asked you AND Emmaline to dinner, not like on a romantic date. And he did the same thing anyone would do, if they thought their friend was in trouble, didn't he?

He doesn't act like your neighbor. He acts more like... a husband, than anything else.

Not knowing is confusing, and on top of your grief, it makes you feel a little more vulnerable than you care to admit, but you can't deny your own truth. You like him. Even Emmaline likes him, little face smiling up at him every chance she gets, staring at him like he's the whole world. Maybe he is. You can't help but swoon over the way she interacts with him, how she settles so easily with him, how she coos and babbles at him like she's having a whole conversation with him. When he walks into a room, she lights up like the sun, happy baby giggles and everything, the sweet sounds of her glee at her favorite person's face like music to your ears. So unfair. You suffered for sixteen hours trying to give birth to her, alone... and he comes around for a few months and all the sudden you've been replaced.

You can't blame her too much, you guess. You get it. He's... something else. Something you're not sure you understand. Something you don't know you're ready for.

Still, you think he might feel the same way.

You shake your head. Stop. You're getting so far ahead of yourself.

Which is why you've convinced yourself that when he's home, the next time you see him, you're just going to buck up and do it. You're going to tell him how you feel. No matter how hard it is.

You've even practiced what you'll say. Staring at yourself in the mirror nervously, reciting different ways to say 'hey Simon I really like you and was wondering if you want to go out on a date even though I have a baby and am basically a widow.'

Emmaline cries, announcing that she's awake, and you're so quick to soothe her, holding her to your chest, whispering a good morning to her, rubbing her back and tummy as you always do. You think some people might say you're spoiling her, that you're not letting her cry long enough, that you're teaching her bad habits or manners but you can't help it. Her father died before she was even born. You're the only thing she has in this world, the only person that gives her love, that makes her feel safe-

or at least, you used to be.

You hear your neighbor in his flat hours and hours later. Well past sunset, Emmaline already sleeping in her crib, your dishes already done, little chores taken care of, and you're sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, watching a movie at a low hum.

Was that- is he?

You sit straight up, straining to listen. It takes a second, but eventually, you recognize the tell tale sound of an interior door closing, and then the balcony glows with the light from the inside.

He's home. You take a large gulp of wine, and a deep breath. Just go over there, and tell him how you feel.

Your fingers curl into a fist, hesitantly knocking at his door, holding your breath. When there's no response, you try again, a little louder, and then feel immense relief when the lock clicks.

Until it opens.

Simon doesn't look like himself. He looks lost. Haunted. There's remnant of black grease around his eyes and instead of being maskless or wearing the usual cloth one, his head is mostly covered by a balaclava bearing a skull, and his eyes are blank. Dark. Something is off.

"Hi." You squeak, and cringe inwardly, stomach flipping like you're on a carnival ride. You raise the two bottles of beer that you brought over with a meek smile, gesturing to them and the monitor. "Thought we could um... try this again?"

"No." His refusal is flat, rough, and you blink in surprise. No?

"Oh- I uh... just thought-"

"It's not a good time." He cuts you off, and then before you can even get another word out, the front door closes in your face, leaving you outside in the hall, bewildered. Hurt.

Guess he doesn't like you after all.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Would you ever consider writing out the Alley Boyfriends?

Tim's favorite brand of coffee since childhood- for one could not follow Batman and Robin around without losing some sleep- had always been the Heart Attack Coffee. It was known for its high levels of sugar and caffeine, with the added bonus of being cheap.

Heart Attack Coffee grew from a small family-run booth in Gotham's street market to five stores in Gotham, three in Bludhaven, and even one in Metropolis.

Their menu comprises about sixty percent of various coffees, but there are teas, fruit waters, and even pastries.

They rolled out signature drinks per season, and Tim was always the first one in line when the new menu was revealed. He preferred the winter ones- mainly because they were hot and always had a special kick to his coffee compared to the spring and summer that tended to lean more towards ice dreams like teas or fruit waters.

Tim adored Heart Attack with all his might. He collected their special cups, a book on all the different flavors he tried, and even cried for three hours straight after learning the Heart Attack team had made drinks inspired by the Bats.

He doesn't think he drank anything but the Red Robbin Rush for the three months the promotion ran. Yes, his heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest the whole time, and he was a bit jitty, but it was worth it.

Then came the terrible day Bruce found out just how much caffeine was inside Heart Attack's coffee. Not enough to shut them down with health violations but enough to worry him.

He forbids the family from Heart Attack, suggesting another cafe that were safer. The thing is, Tim does not drink any other coffee. He tried of course, but unless he was the one that made it, the other coffee never came close!

That was Tim's coffee. His special coffee. He had one every day (that he was in town and not away on a mission) so much so the employees knew him by name and what time he usually showed up.

Sean, the morning cashier at the closest branch to WE, would have an experimental drink prepared for him. Sean would let him test out possible new flavors!

That's how valued he was as a customer.

Don't get him wrong, Tim tried to follow Bruce's mandatory boycott. But by the third day, his headache was killing him, and his hands were starting to get itchy.

Not only that. His whole day just felt off when he skipped out on his morning coffee or his after-work coffee. Tam had caught him re-organizing his office at least five times because his office just didn't feel right anymore. It wasn't balanced.

On the fourth day, he walked into a Heart Attack, and Sean smiled at him. He had a blond expresso Rush halfway made when Tim reached the counter. "Welcome back, Tim."

He placed a fifty in the tip jar grinning at the employee. He took his first sip of the golden nectar and felt his very soul breathe as it settled in his stomach. "Good to be back"

Tim figured that Bruce wouldn't notice because, frankly his adoptive dad wasn't the most observant when it came to Tim's habits. He got away with it for about a month.

Then came the faithful day Bruce reminded him why he was Bartman.

"I'm sorry, Tim, you've been placed on the Do not Serve Coffee list." Sean winces, showing the binder to the stunned CEO.

"I've been banned!?" He chokes, running his eyes over his own face in picture form. "What did I do!?"

"Not banned. You can still order caffeine-free teas or fruit waters." Sean reassures, but it means nothing. His apologies and his explanations mean nothing.

Sean-who he was half sure had been flirting with Tim for months- suddenly meant nothing.

Bruce has bought out Heart Attack was nearest WE in an effort to get Tim to cut back on his coffee intake. The man knew he did not like drinking any other brand, didn't function right without it, and still chose to pull this stunt.

Well, if he thought Tim wouldn't drive ten minutes to the next nearest Heart Attack, he was sorely mistaken. He got up twenty minutes early- and Tim loves to sleep okay. Just because he can't have too much of it with his busy life didn't mean he didn't adore sleep- and drove himself there to make sure he was on time for WE.

The employee gave him the same spiel, holding that dreaded binder. Bruce had also gotten to this branch. But Tim knew that while the branches could be bought out, the name was trademarked, so Bruce couldn't own them all!

He tried the Heart Attack that was thirty minutes away, showing up late to work due to him not planning the traffic for the morning rush, and still did not succeed in getting coffee.

. Then he tried the one that forty minutes, on the complete opposite side of his work, and that one failed too. By this point, a whole week had gone by since he last had a Heart Attack.

Not even on missions did he go this long. He usually bought those take-home packages when he knew the missions were going to be longer than three days at the most. They wouldn't even sell him that anymore!

The packages were just packs of Heart Attack instant coffee. It wasn't even the real deal!

He was feeling withdrawal; his headaches were getting worse, while his body felt slow with fatigue, and he was snapping at everything and everyone.

Just the other day, he yelled at Tam for sneezing. Sneezing.

Thankfully, she can give out as good as she gets. She reminded Tim why she was the one who tended to call all the shots around the office despite what others believed.

His skin was starting to burn, which didn't make sense since caffeine withdrawal did not include itchiness, but he couldn't stop scratching. Tim also hasn't slept in a while because his daily evening routines were all off now that he couldn't have Coco Connect!

He thinks he made all of his executives uneasy with his fidgeting and nasty scowl at the last meeting because he couldn't sit still when all he could think of was Heart Attack.

The last Heart Attack, the one right at the edge of the city, the one that was only a street away from Crime Alley and happened to be a forty-five-minute commute for both Wayne Manor and WE, was his last hope.

Out of all of the branches, this one was the least impressive. It was cramped with only three tables, the walls were painted a dark brown, and the light setting was all low.

It was nothing like the bright and spacious atmosphere of the other branches. It was even squished between two large buildings, the narrow doorway making it hard to even see. Tim was sure Bruce had not found this one yet.

When he pushed the door open, he jumped slightly at the chime from the bells on the door. His anxiety had been climbing to ridiculous levels, he needed his coffee.

At the counter, a boy who looked his age glanced up from his red bulky phone. He quickly slipped it into his pocket, giving Tim a friendly, if slightly bored smile. "Can I help you?"

Tim raced towards him, nearly tripping over his own feet. There was a slight note of deranged desperation in his voice as he responded. "Please, I just want a cup of coffee."

The boy nods, pressing a few buttons on his little cheap register. "What kind would you like?"

Tim's heart swelled with hope. "I want a large Blond Expresso Rush and a-"

The boy stops. He looks up slowly at the time, squinting his eyes as if trying to see into Tim's mind. Then, with a slow movement, he reached under the counter to withdraw a very familiar binder.

Tim's eyes burn with unshed tears as the stranger flips through the binder before stopping on a particular page. "I'm sorry, sir, but you are on the Don't Serve Coffee list. I can offer you some tea instead-"

"NO!" Tim yells, causing the employee to jerk back. He knows he must look like a mess, with tears rolling down his face, but he doesn't care. This was his last chance. He can't make it to the branches in Bludhaven or Metropolis, not daily and certainly not without Bruce noticing. " THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE. BRUCE CAN'T OWN YOU ALL!"

He places his face into his hands and wails. His body is shaking with his sobs, leaning against the counter because he lost all strength to himself up.

The employee stares at him with a strangely understanding expression. "Does this coffee mean that much to you? Is it.... an Obsession for you?"

Tim can only nod because words are hard to push through his cries. The teenager sighs, running a hand through his hair before leaning forward and whispering. "Look, man, I can't give you coffee under the cameras. Meet me in the back alley in twenty minutes, and I'll get you a coffee. Bring Cash."

Tim snaps his head up at once.

"How much? Five hundred, six hundred, or hell, even a thousand? I'll bring whatever you want." He sobbed, knowing he looked sort of pathetic but beyond the point of caring about his dignity.

" Chill, dude, it's a cup of coffee. Three dollars is fine." The other says with a sort of uneasy smile.

"It's not just any coffee! It's my favorite brand, and Bruce bought them out to ensure they wouldn't sell to me anymore!"

The guy holds up his hands. "Okay, okay, this coffee means a lot to you. I get it. Twenty minutes alright?"

Tim stumbles his way outside, reaching for his wallet. He has no cash, but he says an ATM is not too far down the street. He all but runs there and sprints back with a crispy twenties.

He stopped at a local flower store to ask if they would break it for him and was told he needed to buy something first. Not wanting to meet the coffee angel, he picks out a lovely bouquet of lavender roses.

He gets four dollars as his change and races back to the Alley behind Heart Attack. Just in time, too, because the back door opens and out strolls the cashier with a large travel container.

Tim throws the cash and flowers into his hands to rip off the lid and check the inside. It's a Blond Expersso Rush. Even just a sniff has something in him settling. He takes a sip, and all is right with the world for the first time in a while.

"That good?" The boy asks with a slight grin. Tim hums, smiling back as he takes another sip. "I'm glad. Want your flowers back?"

Huh? Oh yeah, he bought those. He shakes his head. "Keep them. Think of it as a thanks for doing this."

"Cool. Never had flowers as a tip before." He jokes, taking a sniff of the roses with a broader grin. "Name's Danny, by the way."

"Tim. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

Tim tips his head back, letting the coffee burn down his throat. It's hot, but that hardly matters. Danny's mouth drops. "Dude, maybe wait for it to not be so hot?"

"I can't." He whines, downing the cup's contents, and only after it's all gone does he realize he forgot to savor it. He throws it over his shoulder in the direction of the trash can. "I don't know when I'll get a chance like this again."

"Don't worry about that. I'll make you more whenever you want. Here, have my number and text me when you're on your way so I can-"

Tim throws himself onto Danny. The other fumbles with the flowers, trying to hold them and Tim simultaneously, but Tim doesn't care. "You are the best person I have ever met! I think I love you!"

The other laughs, patting his hair. "I'm glad. You've been the first to give me flowers, so you're cool, too."

"When do you get off shift? I'll treat you to dinner."

"It's not a big deal, dude."

"I insist!"

"Well if you insist. I just finished, actually. Where do you have in mind?"

Tim leans back to smile at Danny, unaware of the two shadows that leap away from the still-embraced couple. They arrived sometime after Tim finished his cup, unaware he had drunk it since it was lying on the group near the other discarded cups in the trash.

They only saw Tim in the arms of a boy, holding flowers, which represented "Love at First Sight," and the way they heard Tim offer to buy him dinner.

"See B? Tim wasn't buying coffee. He was just meeting his crush!"

"Hmm. Based on what we saw, it's safe to say boyfriend. No one is comfortable with someone unless they have known them for a while."

"I think your right. I wonder when Tim will bring him over to meet the family?"

"Try not to push too much Nightwing. You know T values his privacy."

They both smile at each other knowingly, and even though Bruce suppresses it right away for his Batman persona they don't forget what they saw.

They pretend not to notice every time Tim disappears or that his GPS puts him back in that alley. They'll wait till he's ready to tell them. Besides, the barista seems good to him; Tim is far more energetic and bright these days.

A month goes by like this, where Tim is back to his normal self, no longer needing coffee to be happy. Bruce pats himself ion the back for his plan to help cut him off working so well.

Even though he seems to be texting constantly on his phone.

Neither Dick nor Bruce noticed the narrow eye stare of worry that Jason aimed at Tim whenever he slipped away to meet Danny. He has theories on what is inside those strange containers, but he hasn't gotten close enough to confirm his suspicions yet.

Jason prays he's wrong.

He waits until he knows Tim is gone (he is not. He likes to hide in the cave's shadows to overhear the latest family gossip) before turning to Bruce and Dick.

"Tim's on drugs! I've caught him trading cash for small containers in a shady alley six times. We need an intervention."

Predictably both men freak out.

"What?! I thought that was his boyfriend!" Dick wails, looking over all the pictures of Tim and Danny standing in an alley trading cash, flowers, and containers that Jason took.

"I also thought that was Tim's boyfriend, but if it's a drug dealer, we have to help him," Bruce grunts, eyes hard as he now sees Danny Fenton in a new, less favorable light.

And Tim, who is still hiding in the cave's shadows overhead, can only whisper a heartfelt "shit."

He rips out his phone to text Danny as the rest of the Bats below begin plotting. Thank goodness they don't know what Danny has been giving him exactly. Maybe they can steal Bruce's and Dick's ideas.

Meanwhile, Danny's tiny apartment across the city is starting to appear like a greenhouse with all the flowers Tim has been giving him. His small slip of loving flowers was all Tim needed to hear.

He's taken it as a personal challenge to always have some flowers for Danny as a thank-you for the coffee he made for him.

It was nice. It helped get rid of the boredom his life had developed. He looked forward to Tim's presence. He hadn't had this much fun or clicked as easily with someone since Sam or Tucker.

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Danny grins as his phone dings and Tim's picture flashes on his screen.

If anyone asks you're my secret boyfriend who been making me teas in allies

Danny stares at the screen momentarily, before shrugging and texting back a confirmation. "Who the hell would believe that? But I've had a boring week, so yeah, I'm down to be a pretend boyfriend."

He's never met any of Tim's family, but he doesn't think they will be too hard to fool.

[chxrryhansen]

4.   rafe finding reader's toys she has and using them all on her at once because his ego is all like “I’m not good enough or something? Fine!”

-💎

i’m so sorry i literally just realised you asked for him to use them all on her after, i didn’t see it until i was just about to post, sorry if i disappointed <3

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

you stood from the couch in shock as rafe burst through the living room door, his messy bangs sticking to his forehead and his face red with fury and a medium size box in his hands, the rage in his eyes clear.

“rafe wha-“

he threw the box into your lap, his hands settling on his hips as he stared you down with his dark blues.

“what. the. fuck. is. this?” his tone calmer than usual which immediately put you on edge, and causing an eery feeling to rise in your stomach.

looking down at the box you stilled, a bright pink 7 inch dildo staring straight back at you, along side your pretty purple vibrator. swallowing heavily you looked up at him through your lashes, rafe sneered.

“what the fuck is this shit huh? what yo-you think that im not good enough or somethn’ ? hiding that shit from me, did you really think i wouldn’t find out? huh? you thought that i- that i wouldn’t find out that my own girlfriends a-a needy fuckin’ cock whore?”

his anger was visible through his clenched fists as he rambled, pacing back and forth in-front of you.

“rafe i-i swear i haven’t used them since i met you, i don’t even need them anymo-”

he scoffed, throwing his hands in the air in mock understanding before swiftly moving to grip your jaw in a tight grip. you hated when he got like this, when his jealousy and insecurity took over there was no grounding rafe cameron. you should’ve known there was no point in trying to argue with him, he always wins. every single time.

“you’re a fuckin’ liar. you’re a lying fuckin’ whore. this dick not good enough for you, hmm? i’ll fuckin’ show you.” he murmured. you held his hand in your own, planting your feet and making a move to stand on shaky legs.

not on his watch.

rafe gripped your shoulders, roughly throwing you back down onto the couch, face down, before pulling up your skirt and tearing your panties in half. you keened, gasping at the sensation of cool air hitting your bare cunt.

your gasp quickly turned to a scream as rafe pummelled his cock into your pussy, no warning, no preparation, nothing. with one thrust he was balls deep, bottoming out into your cervix and sending tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. “fuck rafe!” you cried, the pain overwhelming.

he didn’t care. in his mind you deserved it. i mean, how dare you use his hole without permission? thoughtlessly shoving another cock in his cunt.

“shut the fuck up, you dumb bitch. i really gotta’ teach you the basics all over again, huh? this is my pussy, y’hear me? mine. say it, tell me who’s pussy this is.” he growled, his hips slamming into your plump ass from behind, the sound of skin clapping filling the room, his thick hand wrapped around your hair and tugging roughly.

“yours! it’s your pussy. i’m sorry, daddy. i’m so s-” you wailed into the cushion as rafe pushed your head back down into the couch.

“damn right it is, and did i give you permission to put some other cock in my pussy? caus’ i swear i didn’t.” he laughed manically, drowning out your cries. his thrusts becoming heavier, his thick length driving into your cervix with every pump.

“didn’t your ma ever tell you not to touch other peoples toys?”

[hannieehaee]

you said in your svt with an older s/o that mingyu gives the vibe to be with milfs so,,,,, mingyu with a milf maybe? with her cute baby (p.s. stepdad!gyu!!!)

18+ / mdi

content: youngerbf!mingyu, stepdad!mingyu, you have an infant from a previous pregnancy, cute fluff with the baby, afab reader, smut, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 1364

a/n: i know nothing about babies but i hope i did well with this hehe<3

masterlist

"babe, have you seen lola's pacifier? i swear i've looked everywhere! she won't fall asleep tonight if she doesn't get at least half an hour with it before bed," you huffed, continuing to search at every nook and cranny if your apartment.

but you received no response from mingyu. and strangely enough, there was no noise in your apartment at all, opposed to the usual babbles or cries of the tiny resident of your home.

this would worry many others, but you knew the very logical explanation for this. you knew that the moment you walked into your baby's nursery, you'd find the dreamy image any woman would kill to have in their home.

and surely enough, as soon as you opened the half-closed door, you came face to face (or more so face to back) with mingyu's frame as he cradled your baby in his arms.

his gigantic arms dwarfed the tiny baby more than you thought possible, but his hold was nothing but delicate. the swaying of his arms provided her with the perfect motion to ensure she remained calm as she fell asleep. it was when he turned slightly that you managed to see that she was not fully asleep, but instead on her way there as she suckled on the pacifier you'd been searching for earlier.

"she's almost asleep, i think," he whispered when he sensed your presence. he turned to you then, baby still in motion in his arms, "am i doing this right?"

his time with the baby was not a new thing, but he still often worried about messing up. mingyu loved kids, but he had never loved one as he loved your lola. he was also slightly intimidated by the difference in experience between you. despite this being your first and only child, he believed your age simply made you wiser when it came to taking care of lola.

you continuously assured him that he was more than perfect with her, but mingyu, being mingyu, would still chuckle and deny it.

it was sometimes hard to decide whether lola or mingyu was the most adorable.

"you're doing perfect," you reassured, "here, let me take her so i can put her to sleep," you went to take her from him, feeling bad that he'd been taking of her on his own while you cleaned up dinner.

"can i- uh, can i do it?", he asked.

it made you smile. and of course, you concurred.

it took a few minutes, sneakily removing the pacifier and setting her to sleep on her crib. you remained at a close distance, but still allowed mingyu to do all the work on his own. the visual was one that went straight to your heart. your appreciation for mingyu grew impossibly bigger every time he showed his selfless love for your daughter.

your steps were quiet as you left the room, setting up the baby monitor before exiting with quiet hums of affection towards your daughter. once in the living room, you couldn't help but give gyu a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek to reward him for being so good.

in response, he held your hand as he led you to your bedroom, closing the door behind him as he sat you on the bed.

it wasn't done with any implications in mind, but they still invaded you when he began to casually change into his pajamas in your presence. you simply sat there and watched as he did so.

"you're amazing with lola, you know that? watching you makes me wanna pull out a ring," you joked.

mingyu chuckled in return, shirt off momentarily as he grabbed for a tank top, "don't. i already have plans for that."

"oh?," you stood up, walking over to him and halting him as he attempted to pull up some pajama pants, "you've got plans?"

he caught onto your drift immediately, "can't tell you, or else i'll ruin the surprise."

"can you give me a sneak peek, then?"

your hands wrapped around his shoulders while his let go of his pants and locked on the small of your back, a wolfish smile invading his lips.

"well, no, but i can give you a sneak peek of something else."

and then he kissed you, teasing completely thrown out the window.

it was soft in nature, the way in which he kissed you. you could tell he was tired, holding you in a way that screamed exhaustion mixed in with some neediness. his lips invaded yours in languid smacks until he led you back to the bed, sitting you as you'd been before.

before you could say anything, he knelt, pleading eyes betraying his large frame as he silently asked you to make space for him between your legs.

once they were opened, his hands pushed them even further apart, mouth leaning down to kiss at the skin revealed by your loose pajama shorts.

"'m tired, baby. but i still really really wanna make you feel good," he mumbled after a few pecks to the skin, "i'll probably wake up horny, but that's a problem for tomorrow.

"i'll take care of your problem, angel, don't worry. now just keep doing that ..." your words trailed off when his hands snuck under both layers of clothing, blindly finding their way to your sensitive bits.

"fuck, so wet, baby. were you expecting this?", he teased, "lemme get these shorts off, okay? wanna see it up close."

you lifted your hips to aid him, soon finding yourself unclothed from the bottom half and deciding to throw off your shirt to match. mingyu smiled from under you, biting his lip at the sight.

"you make it hard not to fuck you."

"then do it," you challenged.

"first thing tomorrow, i'll have you on your hands and knees, baby. but for now, i have something else i need," and those were his last words before his head lowered and joined the circling of his fingers, opting to sneak in a finger while his tongue took over in playing with your clit.

you gasped, hands digging into the duvet under you as an almost automatic reaction. but mingyu whined at this. something about wanting you to pull his hair instead. and who were you to deny him?

"taste so good after a long day, shit," he mumbled between swipes of his lips, "need to do this every night."

you encouraged him as your legs attempted to close around him and your hips begged to cant into his face. he was good at warding these things off, but more often than not, he welcomed them. it showed him how desperate you were for him even as he gave into you, he'd once said.

"shit, baby, keep going. gonna cum, fuck," your breath hitched and sped up at the same time. your body felt like it was on fire. everything was on edge.

"i know, baby, just, fuck, don't scream this time, okay? don't wanna wake up my baby," he said so naturally, knowing that you truly saw her as his own.

it was a strange dichotomy of emotions, both awe and arousal, but it made your orgasm all the better. your love for mingyu combined with your need for him made you see stars. your body didn't pay any mind to the boy beneath you, taking what it needed from him as he kept attacking at your cunt, knowing the sensitive sensations afterwards always made your eyes roll back.

it took a few moments after the fact for you to catch your breath, but your boyfriend had already managed to find a damp rag to clean you with in the meantime.

"knocked you out again, huh? i'm pretty good at putting people to sleep, i've been told," he snickered when you swatted your hand at him jokingly.

"suddenly he's the expert."

"hey, your words, not mine."

within a few minutes, he managed to get you tucked under the covers and into his arms with the same ease as he'd done with lola less than half an hour ago, providing you with a kiss to your temple as he adored doing to her too.

[talaok]

Just this once

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!babysitter!reader

Summary: Everyone hates you in town, everyone except for Mr. Miller, who was kind enough to hire you as his daughter's babysitter.

Warnings: mentally and verbally abusive father, angst, unreciprocated love, no happy ending. Smut| oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie

Everyone hated you in this town.

Kids at school, moms, dads, even grandparents sometimes.

People crossed the street when they saw you, they waited until you turned around to whisper and scorn to the person beside them.

Everywhere you went, followed dirty looks and rude remarks.

In the hallways at school, at the drug store, pharmacy, park, you name it.

Everywhere, everyone seemed to despise old Carl's daughter just for being born, or maybe, maybe also because of the rumors that spread about her.

Like the one where you dealt drugs, which was not not the truth... but you never dealt meth.

Or the one where you'd fucked half the guys in town,

And least but not last, the one where you were the reason you poor pops had turned to alcohol.

Except they didn't know anything. they didn't know that your "poor pops" had begun his diet of a bottle of whiskey a day long before you were born, that he drove your mom mad to the point where she had fled without so much as a goodbye, leaving behind a few clothes and a stupid scrap of paper where she had written a fucking lie.

I love you

If she had actually loved you, she wouldn't have left.

And they didn't know that all the anger your father had, had turned to you, they didn't know how scary it was, to be afraid of your own father, to be alone at the age of thirteen, to have to take care of yourself, to have to grow up faster than you should.

They all hated you, and you didn't care, you swore you didn't care, because they didn't know, they didn't know shit.

But Mr. Miller was different.

He was the only person, together with his daughter, who had ever shown you kindness, the real kind.

He had seen you sobbing as you ran from your house after your dad had another one of his "episodes".

And god, you were so confused when he stopped you, when he put a hand on your shoulder and asked if everything was alright.

And you didn't tell him then, you didn't tell him everything that was going on and that your dad was an asshole and that your life was hell, you couldn't, there was always this everlasting shame fizzing underneath your skin whenever you felt the need to share. But he hadn't cared, he hadn't cared that you had told him nothing, he hadn't cared that all you did was say��sorry and I need to go, because with just a glance it felt like he had seen right through you.

So then he'd told you where he lived, and even if that time he couldn't convince you to come in, it was you who showed up at his doorsteps two nights after, asking for a place to sleep which he offered without so much as a question.

And it was only a week later when you told him everything.

He had sat and listened as you cried and cried, he had stroked your hair and given you tissues, until finally, he offered you a job.

Babysitting his kid.

And you were scared at first, you weren't really equipped for the job, but the moment you met Sarah you realized just how easy it was gonna be.

taking care of her was fun, and it gave you an excuse to be away from your own home, sometimes even at night when the mere thought of seeing your father made you want to puke.

And Mr. Miller was always nice, he made breakfast, overpaid you like crazy, and he listened, he was always there to listen.

"dad, what are you talking about?" 

Mr. Miller's backyard was always perfectly mowed, and the treehouse he'd built his daughter stood high on the oak in the middle of it.

"I said-" even if you couldn't see him, you swore he was taking another gulp straight from the bottle " Where the fuck are you?" 

"I'm working dad, I told you" you said, trying to remain as calm as possible.

"You working?" he laughed "That's funny" he said, as his laugh turned into a disgusting cough "Tell me where you really are." his voice was slurry, but the anger in it still made you shiver "You at one of your boyfriends' houses?"

"No Dad, I'm at Mr. Miller's house" you sighed, it was sad really, how used you were to this by now.

"Mr. Miller huh?" a hiccup sounded through the phone "You fucking him too? You started going for older guys? Is that it? I bet that's it you little slut" he hissed "Your mother would be so disappointed... to see her only daughter grow up to be such a fucking whore"

There's a difference, when it's strangers calling you names, and when it's your own father.

You'd always wished his words didn't affect you, but somehow, they always found a way to hurt.

No matter how tough you made yourself to be, when it was him, you felt like a kid all over again.

"fuck you" you muttered, as tears pricked your eyes 

"Is that how you talk to your father you little bitch? Just wait till you come home, I'll see what you'll have to say then-"

And there were so many things you wanted to tell him, to scream at him, to drill into his non-existing brain, but all you did was press the red button and hung up.

And it took about a second before the tears started flowing like rivers.

You ran back inside the house, forgetting all about closing the glass door as you curled into a ball on the couch, trying to cry as silently as you could, so that Sarah wouldn't wake up.

You hated him. You hated everything, you just wanted to run away and start a new life somewhere else, Canada, Austria, even the fucking north pole sounded better than this.

You were just so tired, so exhausted. Every time you talked to your father all the energy you had, or thought you had left, got drained from your body, and for hours, you remained lifeless,

The only exception was when-

The front door opened, and those purposely quiet footsteps that you would have recognized anywhere, followed soon after.

Him, the only exception was when he was there to comfort you.

You sat up, quickly wiping your tears to try and look somewhat presentable.

"hey," he whispered, entering the living room "Sarah's asleep?"

"mh-mh, yes" you nodded

"I'm sorry I came home this late, it's just that the guys wanted to go out after work and I always tell them no..." he trailed off, as he sat next to you and got rid of his overused boots.

"I-It's not a problem, Mr. Miller"

He shook his head, smiling in that charming way of his as he sat his shoes next to the coffee table and turned to look at you.

"How many times have I told you that you can just call me J-"

But his words died in his throat the moment he caught a glimpse of your red, puffy eyes, (that he'd come to know too well) and of that look on your face.

"What happened?"

They were such simple words, but they hit like tnt too close to a dam, breaking the barrier and causing all the water to run out.

His arms were around you the moment the first tear fell.

"shh" he cooed, stroking your back as you sobbed into his chest "It's alright, everythin's alright, sweetheart"

You wrapped your arms around his broad torso, feeling all his muscles underneath the fabric as you drowned in his scent. He always smelt so manly and so... good.

"I-I'm sorry it's just" A sob climbed up your throat "He-he called and I-I" You never finished the sentence as other tears started flowing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry honey" he cooed, placing his cheek on top of your head"it's ok" he murmured "It's all gonna be fine, I promise"

"w-when?" you cried, finally looking up at him "I'm so tired of this Mr. Miller..."

"soon" he promised "You're a smart girl, you'll get far in life sweetheart, I just know it"

you breathed heavily into his chest for a few minutes, listening to his heart beat as you calmed your own.

"t-thank you" you sniffled

"of course, darlin'"

And as you glanced at him, at his soft beard, at his kind eyes, your brain short-circuited and your mouth got a mind of its own, and before you realized it, your lips were on his.

And god he felt so good

"y/n-" he spoke as you tried to deepen the kiss "What are you doing?"

"I just-" you stuttered, not able to tear your glaze off his soft lips "please" you murmured, not knowing what else to say as you leaned up to kiss him again,

"sweetheart this ain't right I-"

"please Mr. Miller" you begged, placing your hand on his shoulder and pecs, as you left a quick kiss on his lips again "please just this once"

"y/n..." he tried to speak but was interrupted by your mouth finding his neck.

"please" you repeated for the thousandth time, your breath fanning over his neck "just this one time" 

"darlin'... I don't know if this is a good idea"

"it is" you quickly corrected him, your kisses lowering down his body, until all you could do was shuffle off the couch to get between his parted legs "it's a really good idea"

You saw him swallow thickly at the sight before him

"no sweetheart, you don't gotta do that"

"I want to" you reassured him, hurriedly undoing his belt and zipper until his black boxers were all that obstructed your view.

You palmed his manhood through the fabric, feeling it harden underneath your palm, before you gently took it out, looking up at him for approval as you wrapped one hand around it and let your lips follow suit.

A loud shuddering breath fled his mouth as you fitted more and more of him into your mouth, and you took it as an incentive to get lower, fully choking on his cock.

"f-fuck" he groaned

You started bobbing your head up and down, your eyes never leaving the sight of him breathing heavily before you.

You were doing good, but you wanted to do amazing for Mr. Miller, so you gingerly took his cock out of your mouth to start a slow trail of kisses and kitty lips down the whole length of him, until you reached his balls, and without a second thought, reserved them of the same treatment, before starting to suck on those too.

"fuck. me." he breathed, throwing his head back as he shut his eyes.

You leaned away for a moment, still pumping him with your hand "Does it feel good?" you asked

"fuck-yeah sweetheart" he gulped, looking down at you "it feels real fucking good- you're-fuck-you're amazing"

The biggest smile ever spread on your face at that, and with a renewed vigor, you got back to sucking his balls even better.

series of profanities continued coming out of his mouth as you got back to his dick, letting your tongue run on his tip for a few moments before getting back to filling your mouth with it.

You watched his hands curl by his sides, and without thinking, you let one of your own travel to his, softly placing your palm over it in a makeshift hold, which wasn't really a hold because he didn't turn his hand to do it properly.

But it didn't matter now, he was enjoying this, something you were doing for him, something you had dreamed of doing to him times and times again, and that's all you cared about.

You bobbed your head for a few more moments before you leaned away and quickly got up to get rid of your pants.

He watched you, too fucked out and torn with guilt and confusion to understand anything anymore, step out of your panties, place your hands on his shoulders, and straddle him.

you reached down for his dick, and without too much of a premise, sank down on it.

"oh god" you moaned, stopping a moment to take a deep breath at the feeling, as a low groan rumbled in his chest.

"you feel so good" you murmured, kissing him passionately as you started riding him.

His hands gripped your waist as a way for him to try and ground himself back on this earth because fuck but, you felt fucking good too

"touch my tits please" you said, ghosting his mouth.

"Sweetheart..."

"Please, Mr. Miller" you pouted, rising and sinking from his cock even faster

"Joel- please call me Joel" 

"Please Joel, touch my tits"

And who was he to say no to you when you asked him like that?

One of his big strong hands seeped underneath your top and found your boobs, stroking and grabbing at them heavenly.

You couldn't help but gasp at the mix of pleasures, your head falling to the crook of his neck.

The sound bouncing off the walls of the living room was straight out dirty and the breeze coming from the open glass door on your left softly floated through the room, at times hitting your raw skin.

"oh my god" you whimpered, muffled by Joel's skin "o-oh my"

He was filling every inch of you, stretching you so fucking good it made you want to scream if it wasn't for Sarah sleeping just upstairs.

You lost yourself in him, in his soft grunts, in his most raw scent, in the way his beard rutted against your cheek, and slowly, slowly you felt a bubble form in your belly, getting more and more ready to explode.

"F-fuck" you whined, "I-I think I'm-I'm coming"

His only response was to tighten his hold on you, before you fastened your pace, desperately chasing your high.

your breathing got even heavier as you remerged from his neck to look at him in the eyes and meet his lips with yours once again.

Kissing his was like traveling to another universe, he was just so... perfect

 "Joel" you whispered, losing yourself in his hazel eyes, as the pleasure got stronger and stronger until you felt like you could barely breathe "Joel I love you"

You watched his eyes widen slightly but before he could speak your orgasm took over your body and you had to hide your head in the crook of his neck again to try not to moan too loud.

"it's ok" he murmured, placing a hand on the back of your head soothingly "It's all gonna be ok sweetheart"

You rode out your high, never stopping your movements, and by the time you had come down from it, Joel was on the verge of it.

"shit-I'm coming" he groaned "Where do you want it?"

 "inside" you whispered without missing a beat

"I c-can't honey-"

"please Joel" you whimpered, starting to get overstimulated "Please fill me up, Joel"

And with that simple sentence, he was done for.

"fuck-shit. shitshitshitshit" That's all he managed to spit out, as ropes of his come filled you up to the brim, just like you wanted.

You took a moment to compose yourself, inhaling his scent one more time, before you slowly got off of him.

And as you did, the moment it was all done, a strange sensation overtook you.

you'd thought that this was all you wanted, that this was gonna make you feel better, and yet... yet you couldn't help but feel like a piece of you was missing, you couldn't help but feel emptier than you were to begin with.

As you watched him hurry to put his boxers back on, you couldn't help but think that, once again, you had managed to fuck everything up.

[lithiumfae]

nsfw headcanons | weasley twins, harry, ron and draco.

warning: filth, don’t blame me.

❥ george weasley.

experienced. this man has slept his way through all the houses, he tends to go for hufflepuffs.

he is the type of guy that guides you through it, no teasing.

he seems like the type of guy that’s into oral sex (he prefers receiving). he is also into LOUD sex, he will try his hardest to make his partner scream just to shush her right after.

“keep it down, they’re gonna hear you” said with a straight face.

he likes to be in control without being a don.

i see him as more of an ass man…

he totally goes for tall girls, there’s just something about a woman close to his height that does it for him.

the type to ask “mmm?” with a fake sad face mocking his partner when she moans too loud.

favourite position: doggy.

❥ fred weasley.

also experienced. everyone is aware of this because he WONT shut up about it.

he likes to poke fun if his partner is not savvy enough, jokes, jokes and more jokes.

he’s into short people because that makes it easier to, you guessed it, make fun of them.

this man will ask the nastiest question the human brain could conjugate in front of everyone.

“have you ever done it prone bone?” next is the sound of everyone’s spoons hitting the floor as their mouths hang open.

if the phrase red flag was a person it would be him, but we are all blind i guess. will occasionally go for the girl george finds hot just to prove a point.

boob man 100%

he loves to give oral, he loves how shy girls get when he smiles up at them.

favourite position: standing.

❥ harry potter.

he was a virgin for the longest time and it shows.

he loves making out, sometimes you think he prefers it over sex.

he flushes all the way down to his chest, rosy patches on his pale skin.

he is on the submissive side, he loves being marked.

he asks for hickies. he likes the ones that can be seen.

he prefers taller people too, the type of dude to have a crush on Lady Dimitrescu.

eye contact. he looks at you with his eyes and mouth wide open, he pants and nods his head asking a silent question.

“yes?”

when he’s getting a blowjob he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he’ll have them in the air clenching and unclenching a fist, trying so hard not to pull your hair.

the type of dude to say thank you lmaooooo

boob man too.

favorite position: cowgirl. DEFINITELY.

❥ ron weasley.

red flag personified part 2.

he’s such a jealous man but he won’t let you know until you’re having sex and you notice he refuses to kiss you.

he likes it rough and fast but he can somehow go for the next round not even 15 minutes after the first one.

stamina?????? hello?????

he likes to finger girls because it allows him to look at their faces and focus on the expressions they make.

he’s definitely shagged half the gryffindor tower but none of the girls brag about it??? he’s lowkey sad about it but also their loss yk what i mean.

sometimes he cries when he cums. it’s a little pathetic but it’s ron so it’s okay.

he gets off by having sex with slytherin girls, his ego loves it.

the type of dude to get into an enemies to lovers kind of deal.

“yeah? aren’t you embarrassed getting fucked by the bloke you hate?”

definitely into humiliation and degradation.

ass man.

favourite position: good old missionary.

❥ draco malfoy.

for all his mean bravado he is actually quite the gentleman.

if anyone out of these 5 men knows where the clit is it would definitely be him.

he likes it rough but not fast.

he is totally a dom but he is definitely not aware he is one, he doesn’t even know that those dynamics have names.

likes to pull girls’ hair to make them focus, he’ll even do it outside the bedroom. if you’re distracted while he’s telling you something at lunch he’ll pull your ponytail.

he is also into giving oral, opposite to fred he does it because HE likes it.

boobs boobs boobs boobs, oh how he loves boobs.

has a weak spot for girls with round faces.

“oh i’m so sorry love, such a pretty face stained with tears” all said with a very soft voice almost as if he was truly sorry.

he likes it wet, wet to the point where it sounds filthy.

favourite position: sideways or spooning.

[russo-woso]

You’re doing amazing || Lionesses/Arsenal/Alessia Russo

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Warning postpartum depression

Summary the first few weeks having a newborn are hard, but they’re harder than you think

You spent two days at the hospital after Missy was born.

It was perfect, she was perfect.

You’d never felt so much love for someone.

The moment you set eyes on her, you knew she was your whole world.

The first night with her was hard.

Alessia stayed the night, sleeping in the most uncomfortable chair, but she refused to leave you and Missy.

Missy woke up about eight times in total, sometimes she was hungry so you’d feed her.

Sometimes she needed changing, but most times, it was all just because she wanted to be held.

Whether she was in your arms, or Alessia’s, she was happy.

The hospital bed was so uncomfortable too, the mattress like a lump of rocks.

So when it was announced that you and Missy could go home, you were ecstatic.

You were happy to have your own bed back, and you were happy to be going home with your baby girl.

The minute you got home, you collapsed on the sofa but clearly, Missy was unhappy letting you relax because not even seconds later, a small cry was heard followed by a loud one.

“Oh, bubba, what’s wrong? Mama’s here. I’ve got you.” You cooed, resting her on your chest.

“Is Missy not happy?” Alessia cooed, striking her thumb across missy’s cheek.

“She just wanted to be held.” You explained, pressing your lips to missy’s head.

Missy fell asleep straight away at the feeling of your touch, her little face relaxed as she slept.

But putting her in her Moses basket was like setting dynamite off.

As soon as you laid her down, she burst out crying.

“Oh, missy.”

Unbeknownst to you, this would become an occurring situation.

Like at 2:30 in the morning. You’d fed and burped missy, letting her fall asleep in your arms before moving her to her crib.

But the second you took your arms away, she cried.

This was the fourth time tonight this had happened.

You sighed, picking her up again and watching her fall asleep straight away.

“Bubba, mama’s tired and auntie lessi probably is too. Please stop crying.” You whispered calmly, placing her down in the crib and putting her dummy in her mouth.

Still, she spat the dummy out and continued to cry.

A small knock was heard at the door and alessia poked her head round.

“She being difficult?” Alessia questioned and you nodded, tears escaping your eyes now.

“She won’t stop crying, less. I feed her, I burp her, I change her, I give her her dummy, and she still cries. I don’t know what to do.” You broke down, alessia wrapping her arms around you.

“It’s okay, hon. She’s three days old, she’s still getting used to everyone and everything. It’ll stop in a few days, I promise.” Alessia explained

You trusted her, but boy was she wrong.

Still a month later, missy was still crying constantly.

You’d gone to the doctors and they said it was normal, babies tend to cry for that long.

It had gotten to the point now that She’d cry even when you were holding her.

You’d changed a lot too. You were always sad, you had no energy, most days you didn’t even feel like doing anything.

When football was on and you’d watch it with Alessia or if one of the other girls had come round to watch it, you’d find yourself staring at the wall.

You were just not yourself.

When missy woke up in the early hours of the morning a few days later, you knew something was wrong.

You had googled it and searched how long a baby should be crying for and missy cried for nearly double what the normal time was.

You picked her up hesitantly, bringing her to your chest and shushing her.

You’d only fed her half an hour ago so she wasn’t hungry.

She’d also just been burped and changed.

Yet, even with your touch, missy continued to cry.

Something was wrong with her, the scrunch of her face showed you that she was in pain.

But, although knowing this, the crying got to much for you.

“Stop crying! I can’t do anything.” You shouted at the month old baby, tears running down your cheeks.

Alessia came knocking on the door again, a worried expression on her face.

“She just won’t stop. I don’t know what to do. I know It sounds bad, less, but I don’t want her here and that makes me feel like such a shit mum, but I just—” You turned to explain but your emotions got to you and you broke down crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. Calm down.” Alessia said soothingly, bringing your shaking body on to her. “Listen, hon, I think it’s best if you go see the doctor, both of you.”

“Why me?” You asked, sniffling.

“I think you’ve got postpartum depression.”

You nodded, knowing you’d got a lot of the symptoms for postpartum depression.

“And at the same time, they can check missy over.” Alessia said, looking at the now silent and sleeping baby.

That night, alessia let you fall asleep on her. She got up every time missy awoke, letting you have the best night sleep in months.

The very next morning, you went to see a doctor.

The doctor say you down and diagnosed you with postpartum depression and explained some things that could help you with it.

Then, she looked over Missy. After you telling the doctor that you thought Missy was in pain, the doctor immediately knew what was wrong.

“I think Missy might have a dairy intolerance.” The doctor told you

“A diary intolerance?”

“You eat cheese and milk and dairy, don’t you?” The GP questioned you and you nodded in response. “The food you eat affects your breast milk. So, the dairy has been affecting Missy, causing pain and discomfort. Try cutting dairy from your diet and see if it helps. If that doesn’t work, come back and we’ll run further tests.”

You nodded, placing Missy in her car seat and walking out.

“So, what’s the prognosis?” Alessia asked as you got into her car.

“I’ve been diagnosed with postpartum depression. I have to do activities which will calm me and relax me. And she thinks Missy has a diary intolerance. I have to stop eating dairy because it affects my breast milk.” You said, looking back to see Missy fast asleep in her car seat. “We’ll see if it works or not.”

—

To your surprise, the very next day after you cut diary from your diet, Missy stopped crying.

It was like she was a different baby.

She only cried at night when she was hungry.

And in general, she only cried when she needed changing, or when she was hungry, or in some cases, she just wanted you.

Similarly, you were a completely different person.

You found a reason to smile everyday, you were just so happy again.

Everyday, you took time out to relax and think about what was good in your life.

And most importantly, you found a way to bond with your little girl.

You were currently living your best life with Missy.

She was your everything. Your best friend, the reason you smile everyday, and your whole world.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Halloween, 2004

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: F (joel’s a flirt, but no actual smut, a good amount of early y2k nostalgia for my fellow ancient gen-z/millennials)

wc: 1k

series masterlist

October 31st, 2004

“Cutest little hobbit in the whole world.”

You couldn’t help gushing over your newborn daughter as she slept in her swing. You’d just finished carefully slipping on her first halloween costume, one that fit in with Joel’s chosen theme for the year—The Lord of the Rings. You’d decided to go as Arwen, the counterpart to Joel’s Aragorn, and had spent a pretty penny crafting the costumes from scratch. You’d always been a DIY kind of kid growing up, and even though it had been tempting to take the easier route and buy one of the cheap costumes from Party City given your newly hectic life as a mother, it felt a bit sacreligious to turn your back on your old ways.

Sarah had politely declined taking part in the family theme this year, choosing to dress up as one of the Cheetah Girls instead, but took enough pity on her pouting father to agree to dress up as Legolas for one singular picture. A picture that was never to be shown to any of her friends, as per her request.

“Oh my god,” she said, covering her mouth as she descended the staircase in her best elven getup, a white, synthetic lace front half-hazardously thrown over her freshly corn-rowed braids. “Dad’s gonna die over this.”

You laughed and nodded your agreement as you pulled out your new digital camera—one you’d splurged on for the upcoming holiday season—to snap a picture of your two girls. “Ten bucks says he cries a little.”

“Fifteen says he cries a lot,” Sarah countered as she tried her best to hide her face from the camera. “I thought we agreed on one picture.”

“One family picture,” you corrected with a smirk. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come trick-or-treating?”

She gave you a deadpan and pretended to gag, earning an eye roll from you. “God no. Besides, Jessie and I are working at the library’s haunted house. But save me some candy.”

“Luckily for you, Iris doesn’t have teeth yet, so it’s all yours,” you said. “But can’t promise she won’t put up a fight in a couple years.”

“Yeah, well I’ll have her trained by then,” she said, flickering some of her straight blonde hair over her shoulder.

Joel’s truck pulled into the driveway shortly after Iris woke up from her nap, you and Sarah cozied up with her on the sofa as you watched Hocus Pocus on Disney Channel—your pick, not Sarah’s. When Joel stepped through the front door, he was met with the sight of two elves and a tiny hobbit sprawled out on the sectional, a bowl of popcorn in his eldest daughter’s lap and a bag of candy in his wife’s. His grin was glorious.

“Have I died and gone to Middle Earth?” Joel said, shaking his head as he walked over to Sarah, kissing the top of her head before doing the same to you and then finally, his newest baby girl. “You’re gonna make my damn heart explode, baby girl. Look at these hairy little feet.”

He rubbed her socked feet between his thumb and index fingers, chuckling at the fuzz you’d glued on.

“And you,” Joel fixed his attention on his first born, his dimple showing with how hard he was grinning. “You make an excellent Legolas, baby girl.”

“I’m taking this thing off as soon as you guys take that stupid picture,” she said, souring her face. “This wig is itchy and cheetah print is calling my name.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel said, rolling his eyes as he scooped Iris out of your arms. “We get it. You’re a cool teenager now, too hip for family costumes.”

“You guys could’ve been Cheetah Girls, too,” she said. “I would’ve been on board, then.”

“I don’t think your dad could pull off cheetah print, babe,” you said, standing up and setting your bag of candy on the coffee table. You didn’t miss Joel’s eyes appreciatively scanning over your costume, a devious glint in his eyes. “Come on, papa. You have a costume to get into.”

Joel shot you a wink before handing Iris over to Sarah, mumbling a promise that the two of you would be right back. A promise that you doubted he’d keep given the look in his eyes.

You hardly made it to the privacy of your bedroom before Joel hand his hands on you, tugging you close to his body as he placed a few greedy kisses to your lips.

“You’re keepin’ that on tonight,” he said, nipping at your chin.

“Long as you keep yours on, too,” you purred, gently scratching at his scalp as you melted into him. “My king.”

Joel groaned, swatting your ass through your dress. “I’m gonna have you kneelin’ for me later, that’s for damn sure.”

You giggled, swatting at his chest as you pulled away to grab his costume from the closet, setting each piece on the bed—wig, included.

“I ain’t wearin’ that,” he chuckled, but all it took was one pout from you to change his mind. “Fuck me, fine. But the second that thing starts to itch, it’s comin’ off.”

Once he’d gotten his costume on and took a good look at himself in the bathroom mirror, he sighed.

“Yeah, you’re definitely gonna be on your knees tonight for makin’ me wear this fuckin’ wig,” he grumbled, though you were too amused to care. “How do I look? Royal?”

“You look good with longer hair,” you mused, playing with the wavy ends of his wig. “You should grow it out one day.”

He scoffed. “Maybe one day when I’m old and my devilishly handsome looks have gone to shit.”

“I don’t know,” you said, biting your lip as you gave him a once over. “I’m pretty sure you’re gonna be devilishly handsome to the day you die, Miller.”

“Good thing my wife’s a ten, then,” he said, leaning in to brush a kiss against your lips. “Wouldn’t want to outshine, ya.”

You tossed your head back and laughed, earning another kiss to the base of your throat. “God, I love you.”

“Love you a thousand times more, darlin’.”

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you give jungkook the silent treatment and he books a 5am flight to japan.

> fluff, angst lowkey / wc: 4.6k

> warnings: mention of c*m swallowing bc jk is a menace, oc overthinks bringing their new boots but jk wins the boyfriend of the year award <3 (these could be title candidates tbh)

note: hello friends! a late valentine’s day gift from me inspired by this ask <3 i almost cried writing this near the end lol. as always i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated ^__^

—

“ey, this stubborn- yah! what are you doing up there?” jungkook exclaims in panic, nimble feet rushing to the kitchen.

with your back facing him, you flinch at the sudden loud voice filling the empty silence encased by the four walls of the apartment. you feel his big hands firmly hold onto the curves of your naked waist, revealed by a loose crop top you opted to wear for comfort after your shower barely an hour ago. your heart almost jumps out of your chest because only then do you realize that your bare feet have gone closer to the edge of the counter, only two inches backwards and you would be on your way to the hospital.

you carefully face to the side and bend down on your knees, but he clicks his tongue and effortlessly swoops you up in his arms before you can step down on the wooden chair you used to climb on the counter.

a kiss is planted on your temple before your feet touches the warm floor. “haven’t we talked about being careful around here, baby? you were about to fall.”

you shrug off his touch with a huff, glaring at him with piercing eyes. “you know, they didn’t put a lot of thought into my name just so you can replace it with baby.”

and then you turn on your heel to walk away.

his jaw slacks open in shock. he’s left standing alone, a flabbergasted smile slowly forming on his face. “wow! what’s with this sudden attitude, huh?”

after returning the chair to the dining table, he follows you to the dimly-lit living room. you sit down on the couch, crossing your legs and placing a throw pillow over your lap. deciding to be petty tonight, you pretend to be highly engrossed in the performance taking place at the music show.

he plops down beside you as he pulls off the black hair tie holding up the upper half of his hair, wearing it on his wrist for safekeeping.

“aish- my hair is a mess.” he chuckles when the thick locks messily fall infront of his bangs, obstructing his vision. he patiently runs his fingers through the tangles before daintily tucking them behind his ears. after getting that out of the way, he rests his tattooed arm over the backrest of the couch, his tongue unconsciously playing with his lip ring as he figures out how to capture your attention.

he affectionately kisses your cheek and gently holds your forearm, drawing random shapes on your skin with the pad of his thumb.

“hi.” he says softly. “you don’t like me calling you baby anymore? then what should i call you?”

you remain unresponsive, vision stubbornly locked on the television screen. he inches closer to block your view, tilting his head to the side so you’re left with no other choice but to look at his face. and then he calls you by your name, as if he’s testing the waters, and he doesn’t miss the disgruntled frown you quickly hide.

“see? you sulk when i say your name!” he giggles as he gets flashbacks of the first month of your relationship, when you used to be shyly tell him that hearing him say ‘baby’ instead of your name felt weird.

oh, how the tables have turned. but still . . . he gets nothing.

he sighs at the suffocating silence, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face on your neck. “baaaby, what did i do? talk to me.”

he breathes you in, the smell of his milk body wash unmistakably embedded on your skin. this means you can’t be that upset with him, right? when it’s in regards of a serious matter, you usually call him out straight away instead of beating around the bush. but you’re not looking for a solution right now. you’re giving him a punishment. that much he knows.

“i’m so tired and hungry after boxing. you know how i haven’t trained in a while. my body hurts more than usual because of it- ah, i really regret putting it off.” he rests his cheek on your shoulder, squeezing your body delicately as he watches the on-going commercial. “should we order their chicken for dinner?”

you stay motionless, letting him do whatever he wants as if he’s a ghost and you’re ignorant to his faint presence. this makes him jut out his bottom lip somberly as he racks his brain for what he could’ve possibly done today to deserve this silent treatment.

“is it something i did? or didn’t do?”

these questions are what eventually elicit a reaction from you. funny enough, the roll of your eyes puts a small smile on his face, because at least this conversation is finally going somewhere.

“okay, okay- i see. i’m supposed to know what it is, right?” he nods in understanding, sweet voice determined to unravel tonight’s mystery.

why is my baby upset with me?

“i’m still sweaty so i’ll reflect on myself in the shower.” he announces before stealing a quick kiss from your lips. this trick earns another glare from you as he walks away, which he reciprocates with a wink when he whips his head back.

“it’s alright if you don’t want to talk to me, just don’t go anywhere, okay?”

you sink down into the couch when he disappears into the bathroom, tightly hugging the pillow to your chest as you sarcastically roll your eyes.

“this is my house, too. why would i go anywhere else?”

—

jungkook heaves another sigh of frustration as he unplugs the hair dryer. despite retracing his footsteps from this morning to afternoon, he’s still as clueless as he was earlier. you were sharing stories when you ate brunch together, and you even kissed him sweet goodbye before he left for the studio. he thought that perhaps you asked him to buy something important and he didn’t read your texts, but he already checked his inbox twice and your last message was from two days ago. it was a sleepy voice memo sent at 4:01am. you were asking him to go back to bed because he was playing games in the living room again.

he taps the play button for the third time in a row, your weary and mellow voice spilling out from his phone’s speaker.

“…kook, love, don’t mind you playing in here. ermmm, but no yelling or i’ll kick you out… just go back to bed, please? i’m cold.”

“ah, shit.” the curse is accompanied by an airy laugh as he punches the bathroom countertop with as little strength as possible, tattooed knuckles turning a light shade of red. the fluttering of his heart doesn’t cease until your voice fades into silence, ticklish giddiness spreading from his stomach all the way to his fingertips.

to be brutally honest, he doesn’t know how he got so lucky. there’s nobody else on earth who can love him, handle his difficultness, and keep him on his toes as effortlessly as you do.

“no but seriously, what am i missing?!”

—

“baby, i ordered the chicken! you’ll eat dinner with me, right?”

he walks into the living room with his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, finding that you’re still sitting on the same spot where he left you.

“i got that limited flavor- the one you wanted to try last time. what is it again?” he raises an eyebrow as he taps his bare foot against the floor, his forehead creasing in deep thought.

you glance up at him when his knee knocks against yours, taking the final bite from the choco cookie pepero stick you’re holding. the plastic pouch on your lap makes a crinkling sound as you bring out another one.

”map- maple crunch? that’s the one, right?”

he waits for you to tell him whether he got it right or not, but to his dismay, the seal on your lips prevail. with a dramatic sigh and droopy shoulders, he makes a beeline for the kitchen. he fills a glass halfway with cold water from the fridge, and as he chugs, his doe eyes land on the top shelf. that’s where he caught you when he arrived from the gym, and so, with his curiosity piqued, he pulls the small door open.

it appears to be empty at first, but in the dark, innermost corner hides the snacks your friend, who visited japan recently, dropped off yesterday.

and that’s when it dawns on him, the reason why your expression turned sour when you saw his face an hour ago. he shuts the door with a lighthearted chuckle, leaving the empty glass in the sink before padding back to the living room.

he supports the back of your head with his wide palm to plant a kiss on your forehead, before squatting down infront of you with his folded arms weighing down the pillow. you grimace inside your head because you’re practically held down on the couch so you won’t be able to escape his sickeningly affectionate ministrations.

“pssst.” he whispers at you, eyes glimmering with hopes met by silent disappointment. his head drops lazily on your lap, low and husky voice sounding slightly muffled as he sullenly speaks. “baby, you’re killing me here. this is the worst punishment… please, punch me instead. that would hurt less.”

and he stays like that for a little while, almost falling asleep as the soreness of his muscles starts seeping deeper into his system. maybe, just maybe, he also put himself in this position with the intention of tempting you into playing with his pretty, as you like to call it, hair. he recently learned that the longer it grows, the more attention it earns from you.

true enough, setting himself up as bait works its charm, but unfortunately, his patience meets its demise just as you’re about to give up your petty little act. he looks up at you with a sad frown and twinkling eyes, expression identical to that famous pleading face emoji, only he’s thousand times more adorable in your eyes.

you hastily chew the chocolate-y snack to hide an endeared smile, teasingly quirking an eyebrow at him before reverting your attention on the television. at this point, he decides that he has had enough. his knees collapse on the floor as he abruptly holds your face steady, greedily biting at the other end of the pepero stick until his lips inevitably crashes against yours for a sweet kiss.

“hmmph-” your dominant hand weakly grasps his shoulder out of reflex, sticky thumb and index finger pointing out so the chocolate won’t stain his white t-shirt.

jungkook pulls away with a cocky grin, teeth sinking on his lower lip before his tongue darts out to lick it.

“ugh, i hate you! first, my strawberry mochi, and now, my pepero?!”

your furious outburst causes his animated giggles to echo throughout the apartment, his sore abdominal muscles aching and heart feeling significantly lighter. your wide, striking eyes fluttering close against their own accord when your face gets peppered with apologectic kisses.

“fuck, you’re so cute. i love you. i love you. that’s why you’re angry at me? i’ll buy you more…” he wipes away the scattered wet kisses on your cheeks with his thumb. “you only took one bite and left them in the fridge. i thought you didn’t want them anymore. i’m sorry.”

the story goes: he randomly woke up around 3am again. struggling to return to sleep, he started feeling peckish and decided to venture into the kitchen. that was when he saw the transparent container of five strawberry mochi, one on the corner not even half-eaten. in his defense, that’s how your unwanted leftovers usually look. and he thought those ones… particularly looked delicious. almost criminally so.

“that’s how yummy they were. i wanted to save them! and nothing would taste the same from here, so there’s no point.” you retort with a sigh of utter defeat. the doorbell rings a second after. “…that chicken better be crazy fucking good that i forget mochi exists.”

jungkook’s precarious fate completely lies in the hands of bb.q chicken’s kitchen people. wonderful.

“i’ll get it.” he softly squeezes your arm before standing up to answer the door.

—

“why do i like this so much? i’m about to finish everything…” you mumble to yourself after taking a peek at the box of those maple crunch chicken jungkook mentioned earlier.

“jungkook, aren’t you going to eat?!” you yell out for him before taking another bite from your fourth piece of chicken, ripping off the meat from the bone using your teeth. you continue entertaining yourself with a variety show while you wait for your boyfriend to join you.

“i will!” he shouts back from the bedroom, emerging from the door a moment later. he bites the nail of this thumb out of habit, highly absorbed in scrolling and tapping at his phone screen. he automatically sits on the edge of the couch to be as close to you as possible, who transferred to the floor to feast on your dinner, without giving away the website he’s current navigating. his leg bumps against your side, and you instinctively lay your head on his thick thigh.

“is that going to take long?” you question ingenuously, thinking that he might be preoccupied with something related to work. “i want to start watching the glory. i’m so curious!”

you made it a rule to put your phones aside when you watch a show or film together, not liking any distractions from the plot (and mostly the cuddles, really). it might not be anything special, but it is your quality time together after all. two hearts intertwined by love, beating in sync, with no intentions of ever letting go. and for a little while, it’s all that matters in the world.

“download the episodes on the tablet so we can watch it in the plane.”

“what? watch it where?” you abruptly lift up your head to look at him, a look of sheer confusion painted on your face.

“what?” he mimics your tone with faux innocence, round doe eyes meeting yours. “will you ask your friend? i need the address of the local bakery where she bought the mochi.”

“are you about to fly to japan just to buy them for me?” you snicker, nudging his knee in jest.

“not just me.” he boldly raises an eyebrow, showing you a plane ticket to your name displayed on his phone screen. “we have a flight to tokyo at 5am.”

“are you insane? babe, what the hell-” you hastily remove the gloves from your hands to grab the device, reading the details written on the screen to process what he just told you. “i was just joking!”

he almost curls in on himself when he hears a pet name slip out from your lips.

yes, that was the main reason why he took a long time in the bedroom. he needed your passport numbers to book the tickets and he struggled to find your passport. in the end, he found it beneath his in the cabinet drawer.

“this feels like the perfect opportunity to finally do something this spontaneous with you. it’s valentine’s day the day after tomorrow. let’s be dauntless and spend it at disneyland instead of camping, baby.”

he nervously taps his foot on the floor as he observes your reaction, feeling a little shy after revealing his surprise. he’s not entirely confident you’ll agree with his date idea— the first and last time you went to a theme park together, he ran into a bit of trouble the day after because he got recognized. he can’t read your mind at the moment, but he knows how you’ve always felt guilty about that.

however, those worries get washed away the second you excitedly climb on his lap to wrap your legs around his waist, engulfing him in the tightest hug.

“you’re so annoying, oh my god! why are you the best boyfriend in the whole wide world? you’re really going to pull this off?!”

your whiny voice makes him smile fondly, a surge of warmth spreading through his insides because that kind of praise coming from your mouth is music to his ears.

“that means you’re going with me, right? because there’s an extra fee if i cancel on them.”

you playfully squeeze his soft cheeks together to make his lips pout, sighing dreamily at the golden boy under you. “you spoil me too much, you know that?”

“i should. i want to. it’s for valentine’s day, the day of love! and you’re the personification of love for me.”

you shrug your shoulders with a lighthearted laugh.

“i don’t know. most guys buy flowers and call it a day.”

ouch. it seems that you already forgot that’s exactly what he did for your first valentine’s day. but to be fair, he couldn’t pull off anything special because he was overseas. and he will be again this year, except it’s different because you’ll be by his side.

“…i mean, i still think gifts like that are romantic. but i’m just happier when we create core memories together.”

“that’s why i’m the best boyfriend for you. because i know your love languages.” he responds proudly, nose scrunching and corners of his crinkling as he beams.

“that you are.” you squeeze his cheeks a second time. “then i’ll pay for the hotel.”

“took care of that already. six nights. it’s where me and jimin-hyung stayed before, but there was only a room with two single beds left. we can just sleep on one of them.” he cheeses at the thought of being squeezed into a small bed together with you, not even considering the option of pushing the two beds into one.

with how fast he managed to book the tickets and the hotel room, you can vividly see how much he wants, and maybe needs, this vacation to happen. his excitement is contagious — because this is slowly beginning to feel real and you’re already imagining how beautiful your lover would look like under the bursts of fireworks lighting up the night sky of disneyland.

“hmmmm,” you purse your lips as you hum. “then i’ll take care of the food and transpo.”

“sounds good.” he repeatedly nods in agreement, hair bouncing as he does so.

“except for the strawberry mochi.” you squint your eyes at him threateningly, and he cheekily smiles in return.

“except for the strawberry mochi. i’ll buy you the entire tray of those.”

you fix his bangs as you utter an almost inaudible ‘pretty’, worried about them poking his eyes. he instantaneously melt from your wholesome gentleness, guilty of becoming all mushy when he receives said compliment.

“give me a kiss.”

“later. i taste like chicken.”

“babe, come on.” he gives you a dirty ‘you can’t be serious’ look. “you think i care about that? just this morning i kissed you after you swallowed my cum-”

“oh my god, okay! okay! shut up! that’s different!” you cover his mouth with your hand, flustered by his obscene… choice of words outside the bedroom.

he presses a kiss to your palm before you finally reward his lips with a peck, a triumphant smile replacing his pout.

“we need to start packing!” you eagerly climb off his lap, heavy footsteps striking the floor as you skip to the bedroom.

“jeon jungkook! hurry!”

his full name?!

he hurriedly puts on a clean glove on his right hand. guess he has no choice but to eat dinner while packing, he did this to himself when he booked the 5am flight after all.

“coming!”

—

you know that jungkook likes using spacious luggages when he goes on trips. that doesn’t necessarily mean that he overpacks, he just wants the extra space because he tends to especially enjoy shopping when he goes on trips. that’s why when he enters the walk-in closet, one of his biggest suitcases is already laid out on the floor.

he sits beside it cross-legged, holding the box of chicken under his chin so the crumbs won’t fall on the floor as he eats.

“which one are you bringing?”

“this.” you emerge from behind the door, slumping your upper body over the light pink suitcase as its wheels roll towards the center of the room. it’s a size smaller than his, but then again, you can just mooch off his extra space if you need it.

“cute.” he chuckles in adoration of your youthful charm. “want more chicken?”

you abandon the suitcase to crawl towards him, allowing him to feed you until you finish another piece of chicken in record time.

“okay, that’s my last one. i know i’ll get hungry at the airport again.”

“i’ll finish the rest.” he hums, feet kicking in satisfaction as he continues eating.

“then i’ll start by packing our underwear. six nights and seven days, right?” you speak in a sing-song voice, which makes him giggle yet again.

for a few minutes, he only watches you neatly fold the two sets of underwear while moaning and commenting on the chicken he’s happily devouring. later on, he exits the closet and comes back with your butterfly hairclips decorating the sides of his hair.

“i love that you wear them on your own now.”

you only notice the splash of colors contrasting his black hair after catching a glimpse of him in the middle of picking out which jackets to bring. according to the weather app, it’s less colder in tokyo than seoul, so you think you should be fine for the most part.

“i forgot where i put my hairtie again.” he explains as he sheepishly scratches his head.

“is it not on your wrist?” you ask without looking, too busy going through all the clothes you own to complete the outfits you have in mind.

“oing?” he raises his wrist to his eye-level, enlightment escalating in his brain. “ahhh- you’re right?! i thought i took it off but i got it wet it in the shower!”

“dummy.” you shake your head in amusement. “how did you not feel that?”

“you were ignoring me.” he retaliates, chest puffing up in defense. “i’ve been distracted!”

—

“what’s taking you so long? it’s an hour drive to the airport!” jungkook reminds you as he barges into the closet, unzipping your bag to check your passports for the third time.

you’re almost ready to leave. bam will be prolonging his stay with his brothers, song and paeng. the appliances have been unplugged. the two of you are already fully-dressed against the negative temperature outside. your boyfriend replaced the butterfly hairclips with a headband. he’s wearing his prescription glasses to aid him in safe driving. his suitcase is zipped up, and his backpack is hanging on his shoulder.

on the other hand, you’re having a crisis, still sprawled out on the floor like your own suitcase.

“are you finally wearing them?”

you tilt up your chin to find jungkook’s face beaming with more excitement. he’s referring to the knee-high, five-inch white boots you gifted yourself for christmas. they’re lying right infront of you as you inspect them with anxious uncertainty. you eyed this pair for months before you clicked the checkout button at last, but seeing it in the flesh somewhat intimidates you because of how big and flashy it is.

“you look sexy in those boots, baby.” he crosses his arms, muscles bulging through his black t-shirt. he tucks his index finger under his chin as he envisions his plans and goals for your week-long vacation. “i packed my camera for this. i’ll film for a video, but i want to take pictures of you that have the street style, insta vibe too.”

“i do want to wear them but…” you trail off, hugging your knees to your chest as you pucker your lips in deliberation. “i read that it’s either snowy or rainy there these days. what if i slip?”

“no, no. i’m sure it’ll be fine.” he waves off your worries. “just bring them and we can figure it out when we get there.”

your boyfriend sounding inexplicably enthusiastic about this more than you has thoroughly boosted your confidence.

“okay.” you rest your chin on top of your knees, chewing on your bottom lip to conceal a smile. “i need to make space for it then. or should i get a duffel bag?”

“ey, no need for that! i’ll go pack them in mine…” he wastes no time, immediately squatting down to put the boots back in its box. “finish up here and don’t forget to turn the lights off.”

“yes, sir.” you chirp, kneeling on the floor to zip up your suitcase while he goes out to the living room where he already wheeled out his.

you stand in the middle of the bedroom, looking around as you mentally list down and cross out the essentials for your travel. you turn off every lightbulb you pass by on your way to the front door, picking up your powerbank charging in the living room, until you eventually reach jungkook who is standing in the narrow hallway.

“there you are,” you are greeted with a loving kiss planted on your forehead. “time check, time check. it’s 12:55.” he reports in a dulcet tone, slotting the strap of your bag over your head and letting it drape across your torso.

this is when it undoubtedly sinks in. hours ago, you were just sulking over something so silly and now, you’re about to leave for the airport. god, you can’t remember the last time you felt this surge of thrill thrumming in your veins. this is so out of the blue. you plan on creating a rough itinerary during the car ride and you already have several spots in mind (cough, cough. your tiktok’s fyp has been filled with recommendations courtesy of your friend and curious google searches). plus, you’re 99% sure there are things you forgot to pack, yet for some reason, you look forward to realizing what those are and stressing over where to fucking buy them in tokyo. and you highly doubt that you would feel this alive if you were travelling with somebody else rather than your best friend and your lover.

“let’s go!” you squeal, dashing past your boyfriend to push the door open.

he follows suit, hauling his luggage outside. “let’s go!” he chuckles to himself after he teasingly mimics your high-pitched tone.

once again, your childish impulses take over. you slump over the light pink suitcase to ride it, pushing the soles of your shoes against the smooth tiles to gain momentum as you roll across the quiet hallways. it’s absurd how you almost feel like you’re sneaking out, but you’ve always been one to enjoy reckless abandon.

entering a serious relationship with jungkook was a gamble you invested all your faith into. you used to feel like you were both running out of time, holding hands beneath the thick sand trickling down the hourglass. you didn’t want to have high hopes about building a life together, but you sure as hell pictured it in your mind a thousand times. and granted by a wild miracle, the universe was kind enough to breathe life into that picture. nowadays, the butterflies in your stomach wake up in the morning fluttering with life instead of fear.

“i realized something.” you voice out your thoughts as you wait for the elevator to climb to your apartment floor, sat on your suitcase with your chin propped up by the handle. “our flight is at 5am, right?“

“yup.” jungkook confirms with a nod as he zips up his windbreaker.

“then that means we can watch the sunrise from the plane!”

the new piece of information makes the photographer and videographer in him perk up with burning interest, dimples on his cheeks popping out as he lightly slaps his forehead.

“fuck, i need to drink a liter of coffee to stay awake for that.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added or removed :D

—

[erwinsvow]

teary-eyed, sniffling, wearing a pretty pink dress with flowers and a little bow just where your necklace hangs above your cleavage—that’s how you looked when rafe saw you tonight. he’d only come to the bonfire to sell, but had been convinced by kelce to linger a little longer, claiming more people were coming. in an effort to make more money, he’d agreed, but seeing you on stumbling legs trying to pour yourself another drink from the keg, he was fully persuaded.

“lemme help with that,” he says, taking the crinkled red plastic from your hand and manhandling the keg tap. he gets it to work instantly, it just needed a harder touch, and he hands you the half-filled cup. you look at rafe with big, fluttering eyes wet with tears. he can see where you cried your mascara off—little marks in the corner of your eyes and tear-marked blush still bright and flushed on your cheeks.

“thank you,” you hiccup, taking another big sip and then pulling the cup away. “this is only h-half.” 

“yeah, think you’ve had enough, hm?” fresh tears well up in your eyes and slip down your cheek, while you make a pout he can already feel is making his resolve weaken. “hey, hey, s’going on? you cryin’ like this over beer?” 

he leads you and your almost empty cup to a log by the fire, sitting you down and watching your trembling body while you wipe away your tears, smudging your make-up even more. the strap of your dress slides off your shoulder, and you set down the drink to adjust it, but rafe uses his own fingers to bring it back up, his touch almost electric, making you jerk your body and knock over the cup with your foot. you look down to watch the leftover beer spill onto the sand, dripping away, and look up at rafe so quickly it gives you a head rush—though that might be the result of how he’s looking at you right now. with his hand still on your shoulder, you choke out an apology.

“for spillin’ cheap beer? nothing to cry over, kid.” 

you’re still pouting—he wishes you would stop. with the glow of the fire reflecting on you and the sweet smell of your perfume and your teary eyes, all combined with that pout and your short dress showing way too much skin, he’s thinking all kinds of things he shouldn’t be, like how much he wants you to stop crying and make you feel better himself.

“y’gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

“why do you even care?” you say, between sniffles, looking down at your shoes. he moves his hand to your face, lifting your chin to look right at him.

“i asked you a question.” you swallow uncomfortably, the fire seems all too warm and the beer feels like it’s gone straight to your head.

“m-my boyfriend forgot our date.” you think rafe should be a little fazed, now that he knows you have a boyfriend—correction, had. 

“all this cryin’ over a stupid date?” 

“he forgot the last one too. and the one before that. and today’s our anniversary.” 

“oh. did’ya dump his ass?”

“yes,” you admit quietly. 

“good girl,” he says, taking a long sip of his own beer. if you felt flustered before, you can’t even imagine how you look now—your face feels like it’s on fire. “so, what, y’came here to forget about him?”

“he’s here, with his friends. somewhere,” you say, looking around but unsure where he went after you had, as rafe put it, dumped his ass.

“oh, so you wanna make him jealous? is that it?” he says it with a laugh, finishing his drink. in hindsight, it was all the beer that made you so bold—you can’t imagine any other reason.

“are you offering?” rafe laughs, tossing his empty bottle aside. 

“don’t ask for things you can’t handle.” you straighten your back on the log, smoothing out your dress and squeezing your tits together in the process, making sure to give him an eyeful. 

“i can handle it. promise.” he gets up, and you think he’s walking away, done with this conversation and with you until he offers you a hand to get up. 

you watch with big eyes, taking his hand and standing. he runs his hand across your back, making you shiver in his grip, and then lower to your ass, brushing something off before giving you a slap that makes you yelp. he brings you in closer, swinging an arm around your neck and pulling you in, pressing a wet kiss to your temple. you can feel everyone’s eyes on the two of you.

“come on, kid, let’s go.”

[the-thing-withfeathers]

eyes on the screen (m.m)

a/n: hehe.

pairing: mikey madison x f!reader

warnings: smut, babes, smut. public sex. oral (r receiving). squirting. vulgar language.

—

you hadn’t gone to the premiere with her, she wanted the two of you to have a private showing. and now you knew exactly why.

you bit down on your lip so hard you thought you might draw blood. watching your girlfriend get fucked on the screen was enough to send a flood straight to your lower half.

and having her eyes drill holes into the side of your face was not helping.

“like what you see?” she teased you, a hand running up and down your thigh. she knew that taking you here would get a reaction out of you.

you rolled your eyes at her, “how could i not? your tits are literally on the screen.”

you squeezed your legs together, desperate for friction to solve the ever-growing arousal pooling between your legs.

“c’mon baby, let me help you.” she cooed, stepping up out of her seat and scooting in between your legs. it was a tight fit considering she was kneeling between cinema seats, but she was content.

she made quick work of taking your panties off, discarding them somewhere in the cinema. you guessed that you wouldn’t be able to find them later.

she buried her face deep into your cunt, emitting a gasp from you. you looked down at her and she looked up at you, a glare forming on her face.

“did i say you could stop watching?” she asked, firmly. she pulled her mouth away from you as punishment for your unknowingly initiated disobedience. “eyes on the screen.”

“fuck…” you whined, your eyes returning to the screen. impatiently, you pushed her head back towards your dripping pussy again. she obliged and lapped at your arousal.

you could feel her tongue dragging itself up and down your slit, occasionally flicking against your clit. you slouched into your chair, giving mikey better access to you. your legs were pushed to the side, held there by her hands.

your fingers tangled in her hair, your hips rutting against her lips that were now wrapped around your swollen clit. she dug her nails into your thighs, grounding you.

your eyes were glued to the screen, the image of your girlfriend’s perfect body pushed you closer to the edge.

mikey’s tongue swirled around your entrance, teasing your hole. you could feel your cunt pulsing, wanting more. she slid two fingers in, pumping them in and out of you.

your moans were syncing up with her whines on screen, it was a fucking symphony to her ears. your head fell back slightly but you managed to keep your eyes on the movie.

it was almost overwhelming how good she was fucking you. your eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of your stomach tightening, you were getting close. she suddenly stopped her movements altogether.

“baby.” she slapped your thigh. “what did i just say?” she pulled her lips away, her chin basically dripping with you. “tell me what the fuck i said.”

“e— fuck— eyes on the screen.” you were struggling to speak, your brain going fuzzy. you couldn’t even follow the plot at this point, your mind clouded with your girlfriend.

you forced your eyes open and you craned your neck back up so you could focus. she dove straight back in, indicating that she was satisfied with your position.

she lapped at you again, her tongue flat against your pussy. her fingers resumed their pace and your thighs started to quiver. she knew what that meant.

“mikey… mi— fuck! gonna cum!” you cried out, you started to lend forward as the band in your stomach threatened to snap.

“mmhm.” her muffled voice resonated in your ears as you finished on her face, your hips bucking into her. you could have broken her nose with the force you exerted.

you whined softly as you came down from your high. you thought that was the end of it until mikey turned her head towards the screen.

she paused for a second before turning back to your glistening cunt, running her fingers over your clit again. your body jolted with the sudden contact.

“mikey, what’re you doing?” you asked her, leaning back in your seat.

“there’s at least like 20 more minutes of sex, baby. did you think i was just gonna let you go without satisfaction for the rest of it?”

she brought her tongue down to fuck your hole, you grunted softly at the sudden feeling of being wrapped around her tongue. her fingers worked your clit, rubbing quick circles on it.

“fuck… you’re gonna be the death of me.” you groaned out, your mouth falling open. her hand made its way up your body, slipping under your shirt and your bra, groping your tit.

she squeezed softly, rolling your hardened nipple around her pointer and middle finger. she was gifted at this, you had to admit that.

she started swiping at your clit quickly, overstimulating it as she tongue-fucked you. you could no longer register the dialogue of the movie well enough, wanting to only focus on the beautiful girl in front of you.

her voice, her face, her body, her tits, her ass, her moans. everything was on the screen at your disposal. you wish you could break into the projection booth and steal the tape for yourself. you could watch it over and over again, admiring her beauty.

you felt like you were about to explode. your brain had too many thoughts swimming around it while you tried to focus on one thing. you felt yourself clench around mikey’s tongue— but there was something else.

oh.

“wait! wait!” you couldn’t control yourself as liquid squirted directly out of you and into mikey’s mouth. you could hear her stifled chuckle as she drank you dry, she was enjoying this too much.

you tried to push her head away as she kept going, refusing to let anything go to waste. you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding when she finally came up for air.

her face was drenched in you.

“jesus baby, you’ve never done that before.” she giggled, rubbing your thigh as you panted in your seat. “we’ll have to do this more often.”

“i might kill you.” you joked, dry-chuckling.

“if i get to die between your legs, covered in your cum. i think i’d be happy.” she shrugged. turning again to face the movie. she let out a droning ‘hmmm…’ sound, as if thinking.

“mikey, don’t you dare.” you threatened.

“oh… but i do dare.”

—

author’s journal

probably my favorite little smut drabble that i’ve written so far. i actually enjoyed this so much hehe.

not much for me to say here except i hope you all enjoyed this one too!

kisses xx