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baronessvonglitter · 1 day ago

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Daddy Can Fix It

handyman!Joel Miller x fem!plus size!Reader

Word count: 5.4K

Summary: All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears dress and lingerie, has hair and body hair, and manicure. Reader's age not mentioned so there is only as much or as little of an age gap as you'd like. TW - fat shaming, food shaming, infidelity (by reader, and it's technically warranted) Pet names (daddy for Joel; sugar, darlin', baby, sweetheart for reader). Housewife/trad-wife vibes. Totally a bored housewife fantasy. Mention of female masturbation. Breast/nipple play, oral (f & m receiving). Fingering. Body worship. Pussy pronouns. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped, but still.. this is fiction). Light spanking. Rough sex. Creampie. Joel's kind of a big ol' slut for the lonely housewives but is also really useful around the house, so you're definitely getting a good deal 🛠️

Author's note: it's been a hot minute since I've written a one-shot for Joel but it was impossible to resist. It all started because of this pic:

so yeah, Pinterest strikes again. How could I not write a Joel fic based on this? I hope y'all enjoy 💖

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"He can come clean my pipes anytime."

Raucous laughter erupts from the group of ladies huddled near the cupcakes at the latest book club meeting. You listen from the other side of the room where one of the older members is asking you to help her with her Kindle. "I never know how to keep up with all this fancy technology," Marion huffs, adjusting her bifocals.

You're trying to be patient with her, but the conversation across the room is far more intriguing. "It just needs to be charged. Your battery is low," you say three times before Marion can even hear you.

When you've managed to extricate yourself from her, you go up to the ladies and, with a friendly smile, join in. "I couldn't help overhearing."

Some of the women exchange glances, as if deciding to let you in on their convo or not. "Becky's just showing us that she got her kitchen cabinets redone," someone finally pipes up.

"That's not all she got," another starts to crack up.

You look at Becky's phone screen. The before and after shots of her cabinets are nothing short of miraculous. "That's great, Becky! I know you've been asking Gerald for a renovation for awhile," you tell her, hoping she'll be pleased you remember the plight she droned on about for weeks.

"It is great," she says, eyeing you with something like suspicion. "I have a very good handyman."

"He does everything," a nicer girl, Isabelle, chimes in.

"Boy does he," another mutters, hiding her smirk behind her cup of lemonade while the others giggle behind their hands.

Amirah adds, "He varnished my dining room table, power washed my driveway, helped organize my garage," she counts on her fingers. "He's good for little things around the house, and his prices are decent."

"It's like he's just giving it away," Becky says with a smirk and this gets the group laughing again.

"Maybe you can give me his information later," you say politely. "I have a laundry list of things that I need help with now that Wesley's working so much overtime."

The women eye one another, and it's Amirah, the leader of the group, who gives the definite nod. "Of course, sweetie. After the meeting."

"Great!" Smiling, you try to make your way through the group, saliva pooling in your mouth at the tower of red velvet cupcakes on the table spread. You reach for a couple more.

"You've already had three," Becky reminds you, casting a not-so-subtle glance at your body. Her voice sweet as honey but her words carry poison. You know you're not as thin or as glamorous as the other women in this room. You dress the same as them, wear your hair perfectly coiffed and your nails are always manicured, but just because you're not a size zero they deem you unworthy to truly be one of them.

You hold your head high with what little courage you have in the face of Becky's bitchiness, your sinful little cupcake in your hand. "I actually had three. And right now I'm about to make it five," you say sweetly, licking a swipe of cream cheese icing before putting two cupcakes on a china plate and going back to your seat.

That night, Wesley doesn't ask about your book club. He doesn't ask how your day was. He doesn't do much except pour himself a drink when he gets home and sit in front of the TV to watch the news.

You're dressed for bed, a modest robe over a red silk babydoll chemise, a purchase you'd made on a whim in the hopes that you could spice up your sex life with him which, truth be told, has never been more than lukewarm from the start.

"Do you think we should.. go to bed?" you suggest, a naughty tone to your whisper.

"It's early," he grunts, barely giving you a glance.

"I just thought we could spend some time together.." you brush your hand across his knee but he impatiently swipes it away.

"Please, darling, it's a weeknight," he looks at you as if you'd just suggested a threesome with him and the milk man. As he leaves the room he looks back at you, but the hope that rises in your chest is soon shattered when he shakes his head upon seeing your lingerie. "Red is for streetwalkers," he tells you before he goes into his study.

Daddy Can Fix It

You run your finger over the business card Amirah gave you, with all the handy man's information. The card shows his white company van with the logo emblazoned on the side: Joel Miller, Handyman At Your Service so it says in black lettering. There's a phone number and a website as well.

You dial the number, expecting to hear a secretary's voice, but you're greeted with a rich, baritone "Good mornin', thanks for callin' Daddy, what can I fix for ya today?"

Jesus, the voice alone is enough to get you flustered. And Daddy? You weren't expecting that. "Um, hi, I got your number through a friend and I'd like to see if you're available to come mow the lawn today." You peek out your curtains, seeing how the grass has grown taller than you'd like since the last time Wesley has cared enough to cut it.

"You got a lawn mower, sugar?"

"Yes, I do, um.. daddy.."

You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "You can call me Joel."

"Joel. Yes, I do. Is there anything else you'll need?" New to the housewife lifestyle, you're still unsure of how to make such appointments. Before you met and married Wesley, you just mowed the lawn yourself, but your husband refuses to hear of his good and proper wife performing a menial act.

"Got any bushes that need trimmin'?"

You aren't sure why that particular sentence makes you feel the blood rush to your face. "I typically keep up with it on my own, when I'm tending to my garden."

Joel gives a small chuckle and it warms your insides. "That ain't no problem. Today around eleven good for ya?"

"Eleven sounds perfect."

"Pricing'll be about fifty, but we can come to an agreement once the job is done."

"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you." You give him your name and address, hanging up with a sense of accomplishment.

His van appears in your driveway just a minute before eleven. You're impressed with his timeliness. What you don't expect is the gorgeous stranger on your doorstep.

Joel Miller is tall, broad-shouldered, skin bronze from working out in the sun, and his dark brown hair is greying handsomely. If you had to guess his age you'd say fifties. He's in a grey tee shirt and work jeans. What stand out to you the most are his eyes: almost black in color, appraising you as you wait in the doorway, prim and proper housewife, lips parted, eyes wide.

He asks for you by name and you nod, chuckling slightly.

"If you can show me where the lawn mower is I'd be happy to get started," he offers, and the voice you recognize from the phone makes you melt.

You lead him outside to the garage and he takes out the mower, filling it up with some gasoline first. "Is there anything else you need?" you ask politely.

"No ma'am," he looks over his shoulder at you as he pushes the machine to the front yard. "Get inside and get outta this sun. I'll handle it from here," he smiles and it makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl.

From inside you watch him through the window, deftly maneuvering the lawn mower over, trimming the grass to a neat, short length. It's not yet the hottest hour of the day, but you see him sweating, and when he stops a moment to remove his shirt, you suddenly feel your pulse in the deepest part of your cunt. You wonder what it would be like to lick up every drop of sweat off his chest.

Like a slow motion scene from a movie, you watch the motion of his arms, the rippling of his back as he guides the machine over the lawn. Biting your lip you take in the sight of him, the determination on his face redirecting your thoughts to how he would look above you: hot, sweaty, hard, plunging into your drenched pussy.

How long has it been since you've had a man? Wesley prefers his Saturday nights like clockwork. But you want more. Stupidly thinking marriage was the best way to be treated right and fucked properly, you realized it was not the title but the man, and the particular man you chose was lacking in all area which mattered.

You aren't even sure you love him anymore.

But right now, watching Joel is a treat, and fantasizing about him is a little secret you'll harbor for later in the day when you'll inevitably find yourself using the showerhead attachment.

He finishes the front and back yards, and through the blinds you peep him putting his shirt back on, running a hand through his wavy curls before putting the mower away and coming to your door.

You answer it before he knocks. "Thank you!" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Please come in and we can settle payment."

He cleans the bottoms of his boots on the welcome mat before stepping inside your home and following you to the kitchen. "You have a very nice home, ma'am."

"You're too kind," you're modest about his compliment, but it's thrilling to have someone say something nice about the hard work you put into keeping house. "Would you care for some iced tea? I've just made it fresh."

"I won't say no to that," he chuckles lightly, and you're happy to fill a glass with some of the fresh-brewed tea over ice.

Joel leans back against the sink, pouty pink lips pressed to the glass as he tips it back, opening just enough to take a sweet sip. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, and you wish you could lick a stripe up along his the length of his delicious-looking neck to collect all the sweat that's beaded there.

"Is there anythin' else you need help with today?" he asks, his question carrying a hint of something more.

You blank for a moment, getting lost in the depth of his obsidian eyes, still caught up in your little fantasy. "No.. no, I don't think so." Taking a look around your eyes dart to every corner, taking mental stock of the upstairs rooms as well. "No," you finalize with a smile.

"If you're sure.." he says in that same low tone.

You give him fifty dollars and chat a little while he finishes his drink.

"If there's nothin' else I'll get goin'. Feel free to call me again if you need somethin' done, or looked at. Ain't nothin' I can't fix," he winks at you on your doorstep and you feel a waterfall in your panties.

Isabelle calls later in the day. "So? You had Joel over today, right? How'd it go?"

Dinner is in the oven and there's about an hour before your husband gets home. Phone on speaker, you start peeling potatoes. "It was fine. He did a great job. I'm sure I'll use him again."

Over the line you hear Isabelle sigh. "Isn't his dick beautiful? I swear, just thinking about it gets me so wet!"

You nearly slice a finger off, shocked by her words. Even though you're alone in the house, you pick up the phone and take it off speaker. "What are you talking about?"

"I think it's at least eight inches, and the way it curves at the end," Isabelle sounds like she's moaning.

"Okay, I'm lost. I hired the handyman that you and the others referred. That's who came over today."

"Exactly, dear! Did he fuck you? You don't have to give details of course."

Your brain is put on pause as only silence fills your throat.

"Oh dear," Isabelle continues. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

She sighs, possibly settling herself on her chaise longue out by her pool she's so proud of. "Joel Miller is a handyman, yes. But we also pay him a little extra for other services."

"Oh." You sink onto the living room settee, the closest thing to you.

"Mm-hmm. Mind you, it's not an all-the-time thing. But we've all had him. It's just something fun. You get some help around the house with your honey-do list, and then a good fucking after. Or whatever pleases you."

"And you.. you've.. slept with him?"

"I wouldn't call it sleeping, honey, but yeah I've been with him. It's all for fun. Nobody really takes it seriously."

"And everyone else at the book club?"

"Pretty much. Do you really think any of our husbands could compare to that god of a man Joel Miller?"

No, no you doubt any man could hold up to the stud who'd just helped you with the lawn.

He's on your mind constantly, but as tightly as Wesley keeps his wallet to himself, you can't validate having Joel's help every day. You make the choice to wait until the following week.

And what a long wait it is. Jealously you wonder whose house he's going to. Jackie down the street? Bitchy Becky with her face like a rat, no tits and no ass?

You consider calling Isabelle to beg for the details (which she'll probably give you without a fuss anyway). But a sordid part of you wants to find out for yourself. You already know he's well-endowed. He's at least twice as big as Wesley, who wouldn't know what to do with a big cock if he was blessed with one overnight.

A week to the day since he made his last visit, Joel comes back to replace the batteries in your smoke alarms. It's a job you've done yourself, perching on a stepladder, but it'll be more fun to have Daddy fix it.

The phone call to schedule him was practically foreplay. That smooth-as-chocolate voice had your panties drenched. When he's finally here, inside your home, inside your needy little cunt.

Your eyes rove over his form as he uses your stepladder, only needing the first rung. It doesn't stop you from staying right there with him, holding it steady on the other side. You hear his little grunts as he gets to work, watch his thick, strong fingers handle the batteries with a delicacy you can imagine he uses in other things.

Licking your lips, you realize you're face-to-face with the faded blue denim crotch of his jeans, those Levis hugging him tight in all the right places.

"I'm 'bout done here," he says, putting the smoke detector back in its place. "Anythin' else you need help with, lil' darlin'?"

Your hand presses to the bulge in his jeans, and you're delighted when you feel him twitch in response. "As a matter of fact, I do need your help with something else.."

"That right?" he murmurs, pressing your hand against him, letting you feel him grow hard under his palm. "Been waitin' to see if you'd ask.."

He steps down, keeps his dark eyes on you. "Pretty lil' thing like yourself don't get enough attention, huh?" he whispers, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

Softly you sigh, unashamed at how needy you've been for a simple touch. "No.. but I'd like you to help with that."

"That's what I'm here for, darlin'," he smiles, his thumb tracing your soft plump lips. "What do you want me to do, baby?"

"Everything," you answer quickly. "I'm not.. really sure what the usual is.."

His smile is kind as his hand traces down your neck, leaving goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You want me to fuck ya, give ya somethin' nobody else is doin'.. that it?" He places your hand back on his bulge and you respond by rubbing him, your own cunt pulsing around nothing in excited expectation.

"Yes.. I need to get fucked," you agree emphatically, pulling him into your bedroom.

Now he's here, in your room, and you think you're dreaming. He's letting you take the lead, completely at your service. All the women in your book club were probably more open with their desires, knowing immediately what they wanted and how to get it. All the fantasies about Joel you've created and harbored in the deepest part of your heart are now as impalpable as gossamer.

"You tell me what you want, honey," he drawls in that molasses-rich voice of his. His hands gently trace your waist, smoothing down your dress as he moves towards your curvaceous hips. "God damn, I bet you look fuckin' gorgeous outta this dress. Wanna show me?"

Biting your lip, you nod, tugging off your apron and dropping it to the floor. Not gonna be a damn housewife while he's with me..

A tiny smirk on your face, you gently push Joel back onto your bed, and he rights himself with an equally mischievous smile as he watches you. He palms his hard cock through his jeans as you do a little striptease, tantalizing him as you slip your prim flower-print dress off your shoulders.

"There we go, baby," he growls as the dress falls down to your hips, your scarlet satin bra revealed, your breasts practically spilling over the cups, making Joel's mouth water. You turn around for his help in unzipping the bottom part of your dress, finally feeling free as it falls away, pooling at your feet.

Joel lets out a wolf whistle as he takes in the sight of you in your ruby undergarments, the same you'd tried to seduce your husband in. Now they're finally being put to good use. "Red's your color, gorgeous," he mutters, his hands on your hips, mapping out your generous curves and the soft rolls of your belly.

You've almost forgotten what it was like, this power to entrance a man and make him see you as the only woman in the world. Marriage to an uncaring and unfeeling idiot had left you cut off from your sexuality. Now you're reclaiming it.

Joel's hands travel back up to your waist, fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He unwraps you like you're the goddamn Christmas gift he's been begging for for months. His tongue wets his lips as your plump breasts are revealed. With one hand on your lower back, the other palms your tit with a rough hand. Your nipple rises to his touch and he dips down to swirl his tongue around it, gently coaxing it further with his teeth. Your head falls back as the sensation zings straight to your cunt. "Fuck, Joel.."

He smiles against the softness of your skin. "Sensitive here, huh? Bet these ain't been properly played with in awhile. Gonna change that right now." And with that he gives another hard suck, his dick already leaking when he hears your needy moan. He treats the other breast with the same attention. You take one of his hands and lead it to the drenched front side of your panties, but he stops you.

"Not yet, baby. Want you to see yourself before I fuckin' ruin ya."

You lay on your side on the bed as you watch Joel undress. It's a sight you won't soon forget: skin tan from working outdoors, with a smattering of chest hair that's also showing some grey, chiseled arms, and a happy trail that leads from his navel to the front of his boxers, which are tented. He wears a little smirk as he pulls them off and your reaction is priceless.

Joel is fucking hung.

You've taken big cocks before, but his is formed of pure fantasy, like a dildo from your favorite sex shop. Isabelle wasn't exaggerating about his size. And his cock is so beautiful you want to cry. Watching as he gives it a couple strokes, all eight thick uncut inches, the rosy pink tip glistens with precum, the veins and ridges prominent. Even the curve Isabelle mentioned is sexy, bound to hit all the right places inside you. His balls, rounded and heavy, move with his motions.

Thank God I did my yoga this week.

You beckon him to you, pulling the boxers away completely and dipping your head to taste him. Your tongue laves across the salty slit of his tip, and you relish the hitch of his breath. He's not here for you to please him, but it gets you wet wrapping your lips around his cock, suctioning your mouth and stroking upward from his base. When you start to massage his balls he stops you. "Don't wanna shoot too soon, baby," he says breathlessly.

He pulls you up off the bed and into a kiss, his hands playing along the edges of your panties as his tongue tastes yours. His cock, still wet from your mouth, nudges against your soft belly. "You deserve to feel good," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his tongue tracing the outline. At last he pulls your panties down, a rumble in his throat when he sees the sweet glaze between your thighs, glistening in your triangle of hair.

"Sit on my lap, baby. With your back to me," he orders in a soft growl.

His flesh is warm beneath yours, and god it feels good just to be touched again, to feel desired by someone. You haven't known it in so long. He sits back against the headboard, moving the pillows on either side. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist as he leaves soft, feathery kisses across your shoulder.

"So soft," he murmurs. "C'mon, baby, look at yourself," he nods to the mirror in front of you.

When you catch your reflection you're exhilarated at the sight: you, naked, with Joel behind you, kissing your neck, fondling your tits, thumb brushing over them and lightly pinching them to hardened peaks. "Spread your legs for me, baby," he whispers, getting started by brushing his hand from your knee to your petal-soft inner thigh.

It's lascivious, watching all this unfurl before you in the mirror. You're spread open, on full display. Your pussy is gushing over with need, and you trace your folds with your fingers.

Behind you, Joel's cock twitches, and he rubs himself lightly against your back. "Lemme do that.." he whispers, gently pulling your hand away, bringing your fingers to his mouth and sucking your juice off them. "So sweet," he murmurs, and your belly is hot with lust.

His touch is soft and careful at first, exploring you and figuring out what you like, what you need. It feels like he's memorizing every inch of you. His thick fingers glide over your lips, circling, teasing you so you'll beg him for more.

"Joel," you whine, lifting yourself to him, trying to get his hand to position itself where you need it most. But he evades you, a dark chuckle emanating from deep in his throat. "You're payin' me to do a job and I wanna do it right. Not fair to rush me."

Your eyes close in frustration. "Joel, please.."

"Nuh-uh. Daddy."

"Fuck," you whimper. "Please, daddy."

"That's more like it." His touch finds your clit, throbbing and needy, and you nearly see stars at the feeling. He presses once again before sliding two fingers into your warm, welcoming cunt. "Christ, she's really suckin' me in there," he grunts, shifting behind you as his dick becomes nearly impossible to ignore.

"Yes," you moan at the sweet intrusion, the easy glide of his fingers in your drenched pussy. "Just like that."

"So fuckin' tight," he says through gritted teeth. And Jesus, his fingers are thick, the calloused thumb swiping over your clit, making you twitch and your hips arch up for more. "She's pulsin' around me," he mutters, his rich voice in your ear, lips brushing against your lobe. His fingers glide in, stretching you as you coat him.

"Ah, she's gettin' all creamy for me," he coos as he pulls them out a moment, licking off one finger and giving the other to you. You taste yourself, salty and sweet, humming in appreciation as you release his digit from your mouth with a pop.

He returns to his work, his hand pistoning against your folds, the squishy sounds of your soaked cunt beautifully obscene to your ears. Your voice trembles as you cry out, a sweet vibrato that resounds throughout the room as Joel's fingers curl in on your g-spot. He adds a bit more pressure to your clit as he tries to get you there. Moaning, he nuzzles his face into your neck.

It feels like you break open under his touch, hips arching up, swallowing his delving fingers deeper inside you as you spasm uncontrollably around him, a string of curses falling from your lips.

You barely have time to recover before he's on you again, moving in front of you as you lay against the pillows, like Venus in a Titian painting. His hands lift your thighs, softly kneading their thickness as he plants kisses on either side, trailing up to your cunt, your scent all around him.

"My husband never goes down on me," you whisper, heart racing as quick as a hummingbird's wings.

"Ain't he a waste of fuckin' space," Joel grunts, a wicked gleam in his eye as he dives in, flattening his tongue to lick a stripe upwards to your needy, throbbing clit. Your hands grab at his hair, pushing him forward as his groan is muffled by your sweet, saturated pussy.

"God.. damn!" you gasp at the delicious feeling of his tongue on you, lapping up every drop, tracing your lips and tickling your clit. He's relentless in his pursuit of making you come, switching up the tempo, adding a finger and then another, praising you when you cry out again. "Squeezin' so hard on me.. she's just about ready, ain't she?" Before he finally suctions his lips around your puffy clit and sucks, humming around it.

It's as if your soul leaves your body for a precious few moments, muttering monosyllables in sweet relief. You've never come so hard before, ever. And when you look up at Joel you wish you could worship him.

"Like the sweetest tea I ever drank," he says, licking his lips.

"Fuck me, Joel," you whine, still not fully come down from your climax.

"C'mere," he growls, putting you on all fours so you're facing the mirror again. You look at your reflection: hair mussed, eyes shining bright, skin glowing from your orgasm. Joel lines himself up behind you, smiling as you watch yourself. "Got every right to look at yourself, darlin'.. someone as fuckin' hot as you, with these hips, this ass?" He grabs one cheek and gives it a slap. You gasp, jolting forward, then wiggle your ass at him, wanting more.

"You a naughty lil' thing," Joel smirks, teasing your folds with his tip. "Wanna get this pretty lil' pussy ruined?"

"Yes, daddy," you moan, pushing back on him.

"Fuck me, I like the way you say that." He bites his lip as he continues teasing you. "Once I fuck you, you'll never let that limp dick husband of yours touch you ever again, I promise you that."

Your reply is cut off when you feel him nudge inside, your walls breached by his thick cock. "Oh god... yes!" you exclaim, clutching the bedsheets. "Fuck.. your cock is so huge.." You can feel the tip just kissing your cervix.

"Yeah, you like it? Like gettin' fucked by this big cock? Gettin' stretched out? Gonna leave a big ol' gapin' hole for your husband to come home to."

He bottoms out, grabbing your ass cheeks with both big hands, watching the smoothness of your skin as your cunt clenches onto him. "God damn what a pretty sight.. you oughta see this. Pussy's barely fittin' me as it is. Only tighter thing would be your little ass.." and he pulls out all the way to slam back in, glorying in the way you scream his name.

"There she goes, gotta get 'er used to me," he grunts, eyes on your swollen pussy lips wrapping his cock in a vise with each steady thrust. "Jesus, sweetheart. So tight I gotta try not to blow my load."

The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body reacts to him, is like gasoline on an already raging fire. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Say my name, baby. I wanna hear it." He quickens the pace, pressing deeper inside you.

"Daddy! Daddy!" you shout in time with each delicious snap of his hips. "My god, you're so fucking deep.." you moan.

"That's it, take all of me. You like the way I fill you?"

"Yes daddy!" Your fingers clutch the sheets as the bed rocks with your movements. "So full of you.."

He presses a hand to your abdomen. "Feel me there, baby? All up in your guts. No one else is ever gonna fill you the way I do. No one's ever gonna come close. This needy lil' cunt's gonna be cryin' for me every day until I come back and give her what she needs."

His dirty talk is getting you wetter, your juices running down between your thighs, making his cock all sloppy, the sound of it making you feral for more. "Fuck me, Joel.. fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.." you mumble, face down, ass up, slack jawed as you drool on the sheets.

He speeds up, hips slamming against yours, balls thwacking under you. "Yeah? Want me to fill ya up, blow all this fuckin' load inside ya? Got snipped years ago, baby, 's up to you."

"Fill me up, make me dirty and messy," you groan.

"You want daddy to give you everything he's got, baby?" he repeats. "You want me to fill you til you're all messy and drippin' with me?"

"Yes.. yes please," you're barely able to get out.

"Fuck," he growls, grabbing hold of your hips as he pounds into you ferociously. Once he has control he places one hand on your back, keeping you pressed down as he angles himself to hit that delicious little spot inside and he knows he's hit it when you cry out, cursing and shivering, clamping down on him like a damn vise right before he lets go, streaming jet after jet of his hot come inside you. There's so much it's already leaking out while he's still inside you.

The rest of the week you make a list of things for Joel to do next time: perhaps check out what's going on with the washing machine, or maybe he could regrout your bathroom, or help you rearrange your living room furniture right before he rearranges your guts again.

Even Wesley notices the bright and cheery mood you're in, and how attractive you've become since taking on some of the home improvements. That weekend he does you a huge favor, and sits back in his armchair as he waits for you to discover it.

"Wesley? What were you doing in the garage for so long? I heard a lot of noise," you tell him, arms crossed, a look of suspicion on your face.

He looks pleased with himself. "Well honey, you've been so agreeable these past few days that I thought I'd cross off some little projects on your to-do list."

"Like what?" you ask slowly.

He lists off everything you've had planned for Joel to do in the coming weeks. Small things, of course, but Wesley has done all of them, leaving you with nothing for daddy to fix.

"I thought you'd be happy," he says, his face cloudy now that you're unhappy again.

"Happy? Not quite." You leave a moment and return with a hammer, heading towards your husband.

He cowers, ducking as you completely pass him by and swing the hammer into the drywall of the living room wall, over and over again. When you've let your anger out and Wesley is rightfully afraid of your next move, you simply smile sweetly, holding the hammer pressed to your apron with your well-manicured hands. "Looks like I'll have to call the handyman after all!"

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

tagging those who showed interest when this baby was still just a wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @604to647 @inept-the-magnificent @clawdeewritesfanfic @manuymesut @bitccchmood @everybodylovedcontractors

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wonderjanga · 2 days ago

Text

Sharing Can in Fact Lead to Caring

Sometimes Billy doesn’t need Solomon. Sometimes, Billy just says whatever that comes off the top of his head, it can be surprisingly helpful at times. (Billy doesn’t realize most of them are just coming to their dad figure for advice)

Such as the time Wonder Woman came to him concerned about time dilation. When Solomon explained what that meant, he had a pretty good idea of what she was talking about. Basically, she was worried about the afterword of the Justice League and her friends and how she would outlive them all. He brought her ice cream and they talked it out. In a way, he supposed he understood her. Billy couldn’t remember his mom or dad’s faces or personalities. He only had Captain Marvel to go off of and he guesses Mary, but she looks more like a young version of their mom. In the end, after much talking and trying to show he understands her worries, she seemed to be doing better.

Then, there was a talk with J’onn. The Martian had confided in not feeling at home with the humans. Not that he blamed him. J’onn had lost his home. So, Billy talked with him. Again, sort of relating. The way the Martian described missing his planet, reminded Billy of how he’d missed his parents. By the end of the talk, the Martian seemed to feel a little lighter after it.

Then, there was this kid.

Little Girl: *sitting on a bench alone*

Marvel: “Hey there, miss. Where are your parents?”

Little Girl: *stares* “There not here.”

Marvel: “Why’s that?” *sits down next to her*

Little Girl: *shrugs*

Marvel: “Well, then do you have any guardians?”

Little Girl: “I think so, but I don’t really like her. She’s mean. I don’t think she likes me or my foster siblings.”

Marvel: “Oh? You’re from foster care?”

Little Girl: *hesitantly nods head*

Marvel: “And I’m guessing you ran away?”

Little Girl: *nods again* “Are you going to tell on me?”

Marvel: “No. I ran away from my foster homes all the time.” *shrugs, doesn’t know why he’s saying this but might as well go with it*

Little Girl: “You did?”

Marvel: “Yeah. They were all terrible. And the ones that weren’t terrible were just neglectful.”

Little Girl: “What does neglectful mean?”

Marvel: “It means not paying attention to something. Like for example, I had this foster parent who would go days without coming home, leaving me and the other kids to have to feed ourselves. She wasn’t paying attention to us or our needs.”

Little Girl: “That’s sad.”

Marvel: “Yeah, it is. So, why did you run away from your foster home?”

Little Girl: “The lady who adopted me throws stuff when she gets mad. She’s mad a lot.”

Marvel: “That sucks. I had a foster home like that too. He would throw a bottles, forks, books, whatever he could get his hands on.”

Little Girl: “You did? Did you think it was scary?”

Marvel: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “You know, a friend of mine got adopted recently.”

Little Girl: “Really?”

Marvel: “Yeah, he’s been with them for about half a year now. He says they’re great. They’ve been fostering kids for a while apparently too.”

Little Girl: “That sounds nice.”

Marvel: “It is. Do you want me to ask about it?”

Little Girl: “Huh?”

Marvel: “Do you want me to ask him if there’s any spots open?”

Little Girl: *stares for a bit* “Yeah.” *stomach growls*

Marvel: “Alright, then I will. Now, how long have you been on the streets?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm… a couple days.”

Marvel: “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” *stands up*

Little Girl: “Really?” *hops off the bench*

Marvel: “Yeah. You feeling chili dogs or tacos? Those are the only two vendors I know that’ll give me something free.”

Little Girl: “Tacos, please.”

Marvel: “Alright then- uh, my bad. I never asked your name?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm it’s Darla.”

Marvel: “Darla? Alright then Darla.” *fatherly ahh smile* “Let’s go get you some food, ‘kay?”

So ya. He met Darla. She’s a sweet kid. He would need to ask Freddy more about the Vazquez situation. Hopefully, just hopefully, they could squeeze the little girl into their family.

Also, uh… I guess in this AU, Freddy met the Vazquez and got adopted because he went back into foster care for a bit for whatever reason. There, he got adopted into the family. Darla joins after him for this post to work.

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett comics #fawcett #j’onn j’onzz #martian manhunter #freddy freeman #darla dudley #wonder woman #diana prince

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miupow · 1 day ago

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투모로우바이투게더 一 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐗𝐓 𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐌。

★ pairing。txt x fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎g。⧼ 📖 ⧽ smut , pwp ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cw。dom!txt , unprotected sex , creampie mentions , men whimpering and moaning 🙏 , praise kink , dirty talk , pet names/name calling (bitch is used in bg’s sorry) , breeding kink if you squint | to library。

notes from lia。inspired by a skz post i saw on my dash teehee >_< a little drabble thingie to help me get back into the swing of writing ! hope you enjoy~ <3

수빈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

while soobin is a yapper outside of bed, he’s relatively quiet in it— that being said, that doesn’t mean he isn’t noisy. cute little whines and whimpers spilling out from between his plush bunny lips, staccato moans that grow higher and higher in pitch the closer he gets to his orgasm. but god he’s anything but quiet when his climax overtakes him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he moans so deep and broken, a complete 180 from his falsetto hiccups from before >< he pants like a dog as he rides through it, hips stuttering and twitching like he can’t bare the thought of staying still. his big cock spills so much cum everywhere, thick and sticky, makes a complete mess wherever it lands (in your holes, on your face, on your tits, on his own hand and belly, etc..) immediately floods you with praise once he remembers how to speak again, he’s so sweet <3

“o-oh, fuck, bunny, i’m cumming—! t-take it all, that’s it, that’s a good girl…”

연준 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍

the prettiest porn star moans you’ll ever hear, pouty lips open in a perfect “o” <3 he gets so stupid on pussy he can’t even think straight, babbling complete nonsense cos he can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life !! his moans get so whiny and pathetic the closer he gets to his climax, his whimpers sounding almost like he’s crying as he’s chasing his orgasm <3 lets out one long, loud, shrill pretty whine when he cums, high pitched and needy, trailing off into broken little sobs as his hips keep thrusting like he’s trying to milk himself dry, he just can’t stop!! his face gets so pink when he cums too it’s so cute :( buries his face in ur neck to hide his embarrassment as he comes down from his high hehe huffing like he just ran a marathon

“oh god, baby, i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum, i c-can’t— w-where do you want it? i-inside?! oh, fuuck…”

범규 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔

throws his head back and lets out a moan so deep and broken it almost counts as a howl, so animalistic as his body shakes with his release. his pretty adam’s apple bobbing up and down his veiny neck, sucking on it will only make him cum harder <3 gets so loud you’re always worried he’ll wake up the neighbors, but if anything that’s what beomgyu wants— he loves letting everyone know how good you make him feel, how hard you make him cum with your pretty body beneath or on top of him ! won’t stop yapping even when he’s in the middle of the throws of his orgasm, stuttering out in his gravely low voice broken, nearly nonsensical dirty talk as he struggles to gain control back over his body <3 mixing up praise and degradation and everything in between, he’s just so cute you can’t help but giggle

“fuck, fuck, fuck! ‘m gonna cum, don’t fucking stop, shit—! fuck yes, take it, take this cum, that’s my girl, that’s my bitch!”

태현 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍

loses all composure once his climax starts creeping up on him, suddenly all he can think about is how badly he needs to cum!! he’s always so focused on your pleasure over his own, but once his orgasm is close he becomes nothing more than an animal !! huffing and puffing like he’s in the middle of a serious workout, so poised and focused even when his head is all empty except for pussy teehee <3 he’s always on the quieter side in bed but he gets pretty loud when he cums, crying out all high and whiny as he spills hot thick cum everywhere, preferably in your pussy, he hates letting his seed go to waste ! <3 sucking his dick is the best way to get him to get really noisy , he loses his mind with his cock in a tight wet throat <3 always grits his teeth and bares them like a predator, sharp canines on display with his pretty face all screwed up ..

“i-i— oh, fuck, fuck! i’m gonna cum if you keep doing that!”

휴닝카이 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐈

kai gets so lost in pleasure sometimes, he just can’t help but turn into a wild animal… and it’s even worse the closer he gets to his orgasm, the tightening knot in his belly all he can think about, focus on.. practically starts using you like nothing more than a pocket pussy , big hands grabbing tightly ahold of you and moving you against him however he wants, just lay still and take it!! <3 cums so hard he cries sometimes, pretty broken moans sounding like angel choruses, rendered completely unable to speak the closer and closer he gets! just grunting and moaning, slack jawed and cross eyed, pussy drunk and fucked stupid… his cry of relief gets so loud that sometimes he has to bite down on either a pillow or your flesh, just to keep from waking everyone up !! whiny, high pitched, almost a sob.. he sounds so completely broken when he cums, fat dick spurting so much cum it’s insane.. leaves the whole bed wet and messy with both yours and his release by the time he’s done with you <3

“i’m gonna cum, i’m— im cumming, baby, oh my god, please don’t stop! o-oh fuck, i’m cumming, i’m cumming—!”

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fastboatsmojito · 2 days ago

Note

tell me more about the sweet things Frank does pleeaassseee

ugh he’s suuuuch a sweetheart for someone who has every right to be a complete asshole to everyone <///3

Notes; hi guys I have so much other shit to write it’s actually laughable but this is what ur getting for now mostly because im unable to think about anyone else atm #sorry, enjoy!

he’s pretty old fashioned when it comes to most things; leaning his head back to look at you like you’re insane if you try to pay for anything, long legs striding right past you to open doors, a guiding hand on your waist when you’re walking together so you can keep up with him, etc. he’ll be damned if you ever do anything you don’t have to, always insistent on lending a large helping hand whenever you need one.

“Why don’t you just let me help you, huh? Always gotta have an attitude about it.” he made it sound so simple, like the act of him helping you clasp your necklace shouldn’t have you swooning like this, reeling in the rough callouses of his fingers against the back of your neck. of course he wasn’t really upset, shaking his head at your insistent remarks about being able to do it yourself. you could always tell when he was pushing you to accept the love he so thoughtfully handed to you, understanding when you needed a harsher tone or a soothing hand.

that’s just who he is; priding himself in keeping you safe and in the meantime securing every understanding he had of you in his mind, every fear, every goal, the things you’d dream about often enough to bring it up the next morning, he knew you and he knew what you needed, half the time before you knew it yourself. because that’s just who he is. that’s his job — at least that’s what he keeps telling you.

“I don’t have an attitude, but you don’t have to take care of me all the time, Frank. I can-“

“You can take care of yourself. Yeah yeah I know sweetheart, you’re real tough. I know it.” it was hard to look it right now, letting his arms squeeze around you, standing firm in your words as you melted into the strong shape of him behind you.

there were a million examples, and no matter how hard you tried to convince him, he’d do it again and again. coming back home after a rough day and cleaning himself up before picking you up from where you’d fallen asleep on the couch to take you to bed. ignoring the ache in his bones, hushing you with a kiss on your crown, and tucking you under the soft blankets ‘right where you belong’ because that’s just who Frank Castle is.

#I need him so bad #Jesus Christ #pls send me ur frank thoughts if u have any I’m losing my mind #his voice is driving me crazy genuinely #frank thoughts save me from Election Day #please #I hope all of u voted #CORRECTLY #anyways #frank castle pspsps #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle thoughts #frank castle imagine #🌑 blurbs #🌑 reqs

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vivwritesfics · 2 days ago

Text

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Two

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Chapter One

The Beast. An awful nickname, one nobody deserved. Admittedly, Charles knew little about her. He knew little about the current Formula Two drivers in general, but knew nothing about The Beast. Still, he doubted the nickname was fitting.

He couldn't help but look into her. Max pressed kisses along his shoulder as Max did his all important research.

"I don't like it," Max mumbled as he kissed across Charles's shoulder. "Sounds dangerous."

Charles waved him off and continued to read, learning what he could about you. A good racer, that was clear. Vicious, adrenaline driven. Like Max, Charles couldn't help but think. But then he scrolled down.

'The Beast attacks fellow F2 Driver, 'Ollie Bearman'.

You had attacked Ollie. Why had you attacked Ollie? Charles clicked on the video and let it play.

It began, just after they'd gotten the muzzle back over your mouth. Ollie was on the floor, hand bleeding hand protectively in front of his face. His blood dripped through your muzzle, dripped from your mouth. You looked positives feral as you stared down at him. A terrifying sight.

But you couldn't be that feral, right? They wouldn't keep you in Motorsport if you were that dangerous.

Max grabbed his chin, forcing Charles to look away from his phone screen. "Charlie, promise me you won't go trying to adopt this one like you did Oscar and Ollie," he said, blue eyes staring into Charles's.

Cupping his cheek, Charles leaned forward and kissed Max's nose. "I can't promise anything, Max," he said and settled down against them.

Max released a sigh. He laid down next to Charles and wrapped his arms around him, unwilling to let him go. "Charles, please," he said, suddenly sounding so serious. "Promise me you won't go near her."

He didn't reply. Max laid awake, aware that Charles was awake, too. Awake, but not talking to him. "Charles," he tried again. But Charles moved further away from him.

***

The lock slid into place and you were left in the dark hotel room, food in front of you. "Tomorrow is a big day," your handler (manager, she preferred to be called. But she really was your handler) called through the door.

You knew that, knew how big the next day was going to be. A chance to drive for Ferrari, in the place of Carlos Sainz. It would be your only chance to drive for Ferrari, you knew. There was no way you weren't going to fuck it up.

You ate slowly, thinking too much. The collar was still around your neck as you ate, and you were hyper aware of it each time you swallowed. It had always been tight, a warning to behave or deal with the consequences.

Your muzzle was on the bedside table. God, you hated that thing. It had been too tight for years, stained with blood. Your blood, Ollie Bearman's blood (you felt bad about that one. Ollie didn't deserve it, and you hadn't meant to bite him. He really was the sweet pup everybody saw him as. He just got caught in the crossfires of you and Théo Pourchaire), the blood of others.

Your food was finished, plate empty. Moving it to the door, you raised your hand and knocked. It was pulled open as you hopped back and looked at your handler. "How're you feeling?" She asked and she shrugged your shoulders, picking at your skin around your nails.

Your handler walked further into the room. She shut the door, put the plate beside your muzzle on the bedside table, and grabbed your hairbrush from your bag. "C'mere," she said and sat on the bed.

You did as you were told and came to sit in front of her. She brushed through your hair, humming as she did.

She was the closest thing you'd had to a mother. Ever. Kind and caring, making sure you actually took care of yourself. She cooked for you, brushed through your hair, used your shock collar when you put somebody else in danger.

You sat there, your eyes falling closed as you listened to her humming. You wouldn't hurt her, couldn't hurt her. She was all you had in this world.

She got you into bed before you could fall asleep. Your finger hooked beneath your chock collar and pulled, but it was so damn tight. A whimper left your lips and you struggled to fall asleep.

A Ferrari driver. You were going to be a Ferrari driver. It wouldn't be forever, but long enough. Maybe after this you could give up this dream that wasn't your own. You didn't know what else you would do if you were to give up this life, but you wanted to find out.

***

The entire Ferrari garage was anxious. Fred was anxious, the engineers were anxious, the social media team was anxious. Charles was anxious.

You were anxious.

Charles's research the night before hadn't prepared him for the first sight of you. His knee had been bouncing as he waited, thumbs tapping across his screen as he texted Max. Max was panicking, he knew. He didn't trust Charles, didn't trust him to protect himself in front of the driver nicknamed 'The Beast'.

You didn't deserve that nickname. After seeing the video of you attacking Ollie, he still didn't think you deserved the nickname. It was too close to somebody else he knew, to the way they were before someone showed them what love was.

You and Max were one in the same. He remembered when Jos would force Max to wear a muzzle, back when they were in the lower divisions. But that wasn't because Max was a danger. No, that was to keep him quiet, submissive in front of Jos.

If he could help Max, then he could help you.

But then you walked into the garage. The Ferrari shirt was on your body as you strode into the garage. Nothing looked out of place, nothing but the shock collar and the muzzle. It didn't look right on your face, biting into your cheeks and obscuring what he was sure was a gorgeous smile.

The woman who followed you into the garage introduced you, told everybody else your name. They all knew your name, but they were going to call you 'The Beast'.

For a moment, Charles wondered why you weren't the one speaking. But then he realised, you couldn't speak with the muzzle as tight as it was. He stood up and walked over, holding his hand out towards you.

You looked towards the woman that had followed you in. She gave you a nod and you finally placed your hand in his, shaking it. Good dog, he almost expected the woman to say to you.

You dropped his hand but you kept staring at him. You knew who is was. Charles Leclerc. The Prince of Monaco. Ferrari's golden boy. You had raced against his brother the year before. Arthur was smart enough to stay away from you. It didn't stop him from giving you a polite smile whenever you walked past.

As Charles tried to speak to you, and got answers from the woman behind you, your manager, your handler, he could feel eyes on him. Max, he knew immediately.

Max couldn't concentrate on whatever Helmut Marko was saying to him. He didn't care, anyway. Not when Charles was standing so close to somebody called 'The Beast'. Admittedly, the video made you look so much worse than this. The video didn't show you trembling like you were now. It didn't show you cowering behind the woman that followed you into the garage.

But he had seen the bite marks on Ollie's hand, had seen the damage you had done. You could so quickly do the same thing to Charles. He edged away from the Red Bull garage, stopping himself from running towards the Ferrari garage. His body was ready to go at a moments notice.

"Is the muzzle necessary?" Charles asked as he stared at you. You hadn't looked away from him, your eyes hadn't left his gaze.

No! You wanted to scream. Please, please, please get it off me!

But you couldn't say it. Couldn't speak with just how tight the muzzle was, wouldn't speak even if you could. But you couldn't trust yourself, you knew. If the muzzle was taken off, you couldn't stop yourself from lashing out, from feeling like that was the only way to protect yourself.

Your pathetic whimper got to him, though. His gaze softened and he reached towards you.

Immediately, Max was moving towards the Ferrari garage. "Fuck," he hissed as he ran.

Charles unlatched your muzzle. The way you were looking at him, looking so sweet and innocent, he couldn't help but pull the muzzle away.

The muzzle hit the floor, and you lunged for him.

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frogs-crackcorner · 3 days ago

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An Angel All My Own

Simon Riley x reader

Cw: tooth rotting fluff

A thunderous sound wakes you in the middle of the night. You blink in the darkness, trying to get your bearings. Slowly, you flip on the light and look around. Everything seems to be in place. The thunder-like sounds come again, startling you. You quickly shuffle out of bed and down to the front door, flipping on lights as you go.

You get to the door as the person knocks a final time. It was such a ridiculously loud knock that you're sure it probably woke the neighbors. You open the door to reveal a worn down looking Ghost. He's still in his gear and has his go bag slung over one shoulder.

"It's four in the morning, Riley," you tell him pointedly, not having enjoyed being woken up.

"Barracks needed renovations, need somewhere else to stay," he grumbles. You sigh and open the door wider so he can squeeze past you. The barracks are fine and accommodations would have been made if they really did need to renovate them. This was merely a lame excuse to stay at your house. He always came with a bad excuse.

You slip into the kitchen to start heating up some leftovers and putting water on to boil. Simon heads to the living room, toeing his boots off and taking a second to relax. He leans back against the couch. Simon always liked your house, ever since you had the team over for a barbecue. That was over a year ago. He liked that you had warm lights, not the florescent white ones he was used to. He liked that you didn't have overhead lights, only cute little lamps and fairy lights. He liked that your house always smelled like milk and honey. He liked that your couch was soft and covered in blankets, not like the couch in the barracks that had holes the stuffing was falling out of. He liked that he felt safe.

This routine started shortly after the barbeque. Simon would show up on your doorstep after a mission, bruised and battered. You always welcomed him in, no matter how late or how early. You would make him tea and something to eat. Even though he has told you several times that it really isn't necessary. He likes that you're so reliable, that you never push him more than he's comfortable with. He's surprised and grateful that you have yet to turn him away.

You come into the living room, setting down a tray of soup and bread. It smells delicious and Simon sits up, his stomach rumbling. Maybe he was hungrier than he thought. You chuckle lightly at him. "What's your pick of poison tonight? I just dried a fresh batch of mint," you ask. Before Simon met you, he would have said earl gray. It's the only tea he drank for years. But after spending the night so often and you happily chatting about the newest herbal tea blend you made, he slowly came around to trying something new. His favorite, and yours, was peppermint. The warm, sweet menthol helped him relax.

"Mint please," he says, barely above a whisper, "with sugar."

You crack a smile and nod. Your disgruntlement at being woken up seems to have dissipated. "Eat up. Tea will be done in a minute," you beam, retreating back into the kitchen. Simon watches you disappear before picking up the tray. He takes a bite of the soup and can't help but sigh. It's warm and savory and it reminds him of a hug. This was his favorite part of staying at your house. Your cooking was always phenomenal to him, even if you said it wasn't your best. He loved everything you made.

One time, you made cookies and tea cakes for the 141. Price had put them in the common room, telling everyone you had made them treats. Johnny was the only one who managed to snatch a cookie before Simon commandeered the rest. Kyle had pouted for days. Not that Simon cared much, he was too busy scarfing down tea cake.

You come back to the living room, sitting down beside Simon. He was nearly finished with the soup by now. You set his tea down in front of him and curl up into the couch cushions. You knew he didn't like to talk much, certainly not if he was coming over after a mission. No matter what excuse he told you, you knew why he was here. You knew you would wake up to his screams tonight. You knew you would have to coax him into your bed. You knew you would spend the night running your fingers through his hair while he silently cried into chest. You always knew. And yet you didn't care. In fact, you started to look forward to getting a late night knock on your door. You hated that he couldn't let go of his demons, you hated to hear the pain in his screams. But you liked that he found comfort in you. You liked that he felt safe with you.

You gently reach over and start carding your fingers through his blond locks. A shiver runs down his spine before he begins leaning into your touch. He sets his tea down and lays down, his head in your lap. The warm light makes your skin seem to glow and you were being so gentle with him. He swears you might be an angel. No mortal woman could see such a scarred monster and still treat him with such kindness. Not after knowing all the blood he's spilled. But as his eyes begin to get heavy and he listens to the soft lullaby you hum, he knows he's willing to spill more if it means he can spend his nights here with you.

(I might make this into a full fic if it gets enough interest. This was inspired by a post from @bookished

Edit: I just posted chapter one)

#sharkyshitposts #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley fluff #cod fluff

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moechies · 11 hours ago

Text

heartbroken! darling . . who spends hours in her soft bed trying to get herself off — mind pacing back and forth to her ex boyfriend suna rintarou.

heartbroken! darling . . who hates herself for being reminded of how well his fingers worked her little cunt, and how well he fucked with his pretty dick.

heartbroken! darling . . who’s fussing, tossing and turning and huffing into her plush pillow until the soft of her upper arm accidently presses on the contact of her ex, ringing suna’s line.

ex boyfriend! sunarin . . who’s eyes widen when he sees your contact name pop up — still set as ‘sweet girl’ with no intent to change it. who takes a bit of time to answer, so it doesn’t seem like he cares too much.

ex boyfriend! sunarin . . who presses the green button with shaky fingers, parting his lips to speak before he hears a familiar meek moan.

ex boyfriend! sunarin . . who’s cock begins to stiffen at the soft, whiny moans elicited through the speaker of the phone — clearly you’ve misclicked his contact. he knows the moral thing to do would be to hang up, but . .

heartbroken! darling . . who subconsciously whines out her ex boyfriends name slurred with a soft moan, chanting the syllables over and over with occasional ‘ . . miss you . . ‘ and ‘ love you ‘s . . ‘

ex boyfriend! sunarin . . who can hear your sloppy pussy over the poor speaker of the phones, and your soft rumbling in the sheets. who’s listening so intently that he starts to imagine your pussy crying out his name too.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“r—rinnn . . miss y’ so much ,”

he knows — knows you’re renacting the nights where you two had to resort to phone sex, due to him being heftily busy or out of town. he’s well used to your whining and the scramble of the sheets against the phones speaker, having resorted to phone sex as a way to push off the true issue — he was never home.

“‘m sorry,” you ramble, “sorry f’being so mean . . miss y’ so much. miss your face ‘nd . . fingers and y’r cock—“ you hiccup.

you muffle your voice into your pillow, free arm wrapping under the the cushion for leverage. “rin,” you moan. “l—love you.”

your breath fastens when you feel your climax following, little thumb pressing against your sensitive clit just as suna taught you. “feels good! r—rinnn,” you cry, eyes shut tight with the vivid imagination of your now ex boyfriend behind you, helping you get off.

his sultry voice and featherlight touches transverse your thoughts, soft cries being elicited from your swollen lips and drool dirtying your pillow. you ignore the loud squelches of your pussy, or how you’re dirtying your hand and the sheets below, pumping in and out of your swollen cunt with no other desire but to cum.

you yelp, jump up in terror when you hear a loud masculine sigh and low shlicks, eyes searching the room for the source of noise. you lift your blanket with intentions to slip inside . .

revealing your phone. on an active call with your ex boyfriend named, ‘sweet boy.’ no, you hadn’t changed his contact either. the time of the call displays ‘12:38.’ a hot flash spreads throughout your body,

“r—rin?”

“y—yeah.”

“you . . you didn’t hear anything right?”

it’s so deathly silent, you could hear a pin drop.

“you really miss me that much, doll?” suna chuckles, breaking the silence with a short hum.

“no . . du—dunno what you’re talking about. i—i called on accident so ‘m gonna—“

“don’t be like that baby, don’t hang up. let me come over, yeah?”

“rin—“ you protest,

“oh? we’re not moanin’ anymore? i see . . “

“shut up, suna!” you cry out, defeated and forcibly facing the fact that you had just fucked yourself to the thought of your ex boyfriend — and he heard everything.

“c’mon. let me come over t’night and show you just how much i missed you, too. alright?”

he’s eager when you don’t protest, only a heavy huff before the line cuts off. he’s quick to messily tug up his sweats, rinse off his hand, and reach for keys.

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strwberri-milk · 2 days ago

Note

hi! I love ur works they're all so sweet☹️ i was wondering if i could maybe request the l&ds men with a reader who has a constant tummy ache😔 i wake up, tummy ache, on my period, tummy ache, i try to sleep, tummy ache. it's a constant pain💔💔

anyways thank you so much and have a wonderful day🩷🩷🩷

lowkey stomachaches are so uncomfortable :(( same w headaches for me i say as though thats not the whole reason why theyre called aches

Zayne is immediately on you to try and figure out if there's something else going on that is leading to the fact that you have chronic stomachaches. His brain doesn't really turn off when it comes to doing things for your health so he can't really help but try to solve you problem.

Regardless, he's very good at giving you things to soothe your stomach, figuring out what sorts of things he can give you to help settle it. If you just want his presence, you got it but not without also drinking something or eating something easy to digest to make sure you at least get some nutrients that also help you feel better.

Xavier strikes me as the kind of person who doesn't really suffer from aches and pains or if he does he just totally ignores them so he's not sure what to do. He'll ask if you want medicine or some sort of tea he heard helps settle an upset stomach. He'll ask periodically if you're feeling better and tends to get you foods that he knows you can stomach because he doesn't want to accidentally make things worth.

Rafayel will practically be holding you even more than usual, palm over your stomach as he lightly uses his evol to act as a heating pad. He'll also massage your stomach absentmindedly, paying attention to your reactions to ensure that he doesn't accidentally make things too warm, or too rough. He'll also learn how to cook better meals for you if needed, wanting to feed you and shower you with attention to help you feel better.

Sylus also keeps his hand over your stomach, cooing at you gently whenever it gets really bad and asking what things you want. He'll spoil you with attention and treats - literally anything you want, he has it but amplified to 10 because he hates knowing that you're hurting and he can't do anything about it. He'll check in on you often, asking if you're feeling better or if there's anything else he could do to besides dote on you.

#love and deepspace x reader #l&ds x reader #zayne x reader #l&ds zayne x reader #lads zayne x reader #xavier x reader #l&ds xavier x reader #lads xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #l&ds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #l&ds sylus x reader #lads sylus x reader #lnds sylus x reader

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moonlitwitchdaisy · 2 days ago

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need a bigger size

✰ summary: you’re six months pregnant and calling your husband to help you put on the jeans you just can’t seem to wear right now.

✰ warnings: MDNI!! satoru gojo x fem reader, pregnant reader, soon to be dad satoru, mentioning of sex

✰ a little note: i apologize for it being a bit short. i hope you like it. also, you can tell that i wrote this during my ovulation.

“Ugh… please, please fit. I really don’t want to buy another pair of pants.”

The sixth month of your pregnancy hadn’t exactly been a breeze. Your belly was getting bigger, and the clothes you bought just two weeks ago were barely fitting. Could a person really gain this much weight in two weeks?

As you struggled to pull your jeans up over your hips, you were truly at your limit. Moments like this made you question why you were pregnant in the first place. A simple act of getting dressed had turned into a sweaty, intense battle. You had no choice but to play your last card.

“Satoruuu! Can you come here for a second, please?”

As you kept struggling with your jeans, you heard footsteps approaching the bedroom. You looked miserably toward the door, seeing your husband with his perfect, well-kept hair standing there, giving you an amused look. You, on the other hand, had sweat-plastered hair sticking to every part of your face.

“I didn’t know you wanted to have a quick fuck so bad before we went shopping.”

Your husband was truly straightforward. But right now, more than a quick fuck, you needed to fit into these $70 jeans.

“How on earth did you think I wanted that?”

While leaning against the doorframe, Satoru walked over and stood in front of your struggling body.

“First, you’re trying to take off your pants. Second, you’ve been moaning for the past five minutes and—��

“OH MY GOD NO! I’VE JUST BEEN TRYING TO PUT ON THESE DAMN JEANS FOR THE PAST HALF HOUR, SATORU.”

The mischievous grin on your husband’s face instantly transformed into disappointment. Did he really not realize you were just trying to put on your jeans?

“So, the moans that I could hear all the way in the living room were just because of your jeans?” He sounded so genuinely let down that, as mad as you were, you felt a bit sorry for him.

“FINALLY, YOU GET IT.”

Your husband went into defense mode. “Hey, calm down, wifey. As your husband, who’s constantly thinking about wanting you, of course I’d think that way.”

“Gosh I’m so sorry. Pregnancy is really making me so irritable.” You hadn’t even realized you were yelling, and it upset you to treat the person you loved most in the world this way. All the blame lay on these cursed jeans, which had fit just fine two weeks ago.

A sweet smile appeared on Satoru’s face as he cupped your face and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “Never apologize to me. Alright, then, let’s get these jeans on you and head out shopping!”

Satoru moved behind you and took hold of the jeans stuck just below your hips. “Okay, this might be a bit tough, but take a deep breath, baby.”

Listening to him, you took a deep breath and allowed him to work the jeans over your hips. After a few challenging minutes, he’d finally managed to help you get them on.

“You might actually be the strongest, Satoru.” As you buttoned your jeans, he moved to stand in front of you again.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m always the strongest for you and our babygirl.”

After managing to fasten the buttons, you threw your arms around his neck with a triumphant smile. “I should have stopped you from getting me pregnant that night. Being pregnant is seriously tough. I bought these jeans just two weeks ago, and now they barely go over my ass”

“You’re the one who said you’d kill me if I didn’t get you pregnant that night, wifey. Besides,” he paused for a moment and placed his hands on your full hips, giving them both a firm squeeze, “if I’d known these amazing things would be this big, I would’ve gotten you pregnant the day I first saw you.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, giving him a quick peck on the lips before turning around to grab the shirt you’d left on the bed. “Let me just put on this shirt real quick and we-”

The sound of ripping made you freeze, and your hands instinctively reached to feel the tear right where your backside was. Your jeans had split straight down the middle.

“Shit, shit, shit… GOD, I PAID 70 DOLLARS FOR THESE DAMN JEANS!” You cursed angrily at them, glancing at the rip in the mirror. Your husband, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment, was happily staring at the split right in the center of your backside.

“I guess this might be a sign that I should fuck you before we go shopping.”

Yeah, it really was, because after he finished speaking, he started kissing you hungrily. Later that day, while out shopping for baby items, you ended up buying a new pair of jeans. You just hoped they wouldn’t tear from the back after wearing them.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

#jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk satoru

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dc418writes · 3 days ago

Text

Meddling Meet Cute

✨Pairing✨: Terry Richmondxblack!singlemom!reader

Summary🪄: Your daughter’s at it again…

🚨: pretty much all fluff🌸

A/N🎤: it’s my first Terry fic🤗! I’m very nervous (then again when am I not🙃), but I hope you guys like what I came up with☺️

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

“Ma come on!” The excited nine-year-old pulled you just hard enough past the barricades that your steps were a tad more hurried to avoid stumbling over your daughter.

“Callie relax, the rides aren’t going anywhere.”

“I know, but Jianna-,”

“Isn’t going anywhere either,” you chuckle still being led by the girl clearly on a mission with her eyes set on the infamous ‘High Flyer’.

Besties since kindergarten, you couldn’t lie about how cute the duo was. They were practically stuck at the hip during school - always working or playing together at recess - and outside wasn’t all too different seeing that one would typically be at the other’s house. It always brought a smile to your face watching their animated conversations and lighthearted debates.

And after this past year, you were especially glad to see none of that had changed. That she had a true friend to support her during the tough times.

“There she is!,” Callie smiles already beginning to bounce and skip towards her best friend. Jianna begins to frantically wave alerting the much taller and unfamiliar man to her right. Jianna’s mom’s boyfriend maybe? She did mention a new guy she was really into...

Before you can stop her, Callie easily slips away running to hug her friend - and introduce herself to the tower of muscle who adorably shakes her hand with an amused smile of his own.

“Um Callie-?,”

With the man in tow behind them, Jianna tightly wraps her arms around your waist in one of her famous warm hugs before peering up at you with a sweet, “Hey auntie!”

The term given to you by the young girl herself when she was about six since, “You take care of me like my other aunties. So that makes you my aunt too!” You didn’t have the heart to go into the semantics with the wide-eyed little girl, so you just smiled and said, “Okay sweetheart.”

“This is my uncle Terry from the army. Uncle Terry, this is my friend’s mom.”

He was broader up close, and the orange shirt stretching across his chest and shoulders only made that more apparent. That paired with the dark jeans over his thick thighs didn’t help the ache beginning to pulse in your core that you haven’t felt in…damn when was the last time you felt that?

“Hi Callie’s mom,” he greets with probably the prettiest smile you’ve seen in this town on a man and an outstretched hand. A hand that completely envelopes your own once you place yours in his.

“Hi Jianna’s uncle Terry,” you softly chuckle along with the man himself.

God that deep baritone voice was dangerous. And his grayish-green eyes?! You didn’t even know they came in that color.

“Well we’re going to the line bye!,” Callie rushes grabbing Jianna’s hand. Your quick, “Hold it” begrudgingly halts both girls turning around to face you again.

“Tell us what rides you’re going to, and we’ll follow behind.”

“Mom we’re nineee,” she whines with that pouty secret weapon of hers and batting those curly lashes similar to yours.

“You want us to choose the rides?”

There’s a brief, silent stare off between you and your mini me before she announces they’ll be in line at the High Flyer.

“And we’ll be sitting at that bench.” It was about 20 feet away and had the perfect view of both the entrance and exit lines so you would always see the girls.

“Spoken like a true mama,” Terry murmurs with a low chuckle as you both sit. Meanwhile you try to ignore the flutter in your lower tummy at how ‘mama’ sounds out of his mouth.

“Reminded myself of my own back there,” you softly laugh while inwardly cringing. Although you’re enjoying your time so far with Terry - a brief, comfortable silence currently between you two - there’s this creeping suspicion you can’t seem to shake. “Is everything okay with Nitta? I thought she was bringing Jianna?”

“She said she wasn’t feeling the best and asked if I could bring her instead,” he casually answers.

Huh..maybe it’s nothing then.

“She also said Jia told her she really wanted me to go so she could show me around? Didn’t know she was meeting yall here until we got out the truck.”

Yep. There it is.

Your quiet ‘huh’ along with the knowing look on your face has his brow rising in intrigue. And admittedly, he thinks it’s cute how your deep brown eyes slightly squint. “What’s up?”

From your sudden shift to surprised, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear you. Or be paying close enough attention to read you so well. Who wouldn’t pay attention to you though? Bright skin that nearly shined gold when the sun hit you just right. Your full lips that looked so soft. Not to mention your body with curves in all the right places that made him realize it’s been too long since his last time.

You debate on whether to say anything, but the way he deeply gazes at you tells you he probably won’t just let it go. “I uh think a couple of nine year old matchmakers may be trying to work their magic.”

Looking back at the girls, they each throw both of you a quick wave now at the front of the line.

“You think it’s working?,” Jianna asks.

“I mean they’re talking? That’s more attention I’ve seen my mom give a guy,” Callie shrugs. “Might be going better though if he brought flowers like I said.”

“Then that would’ve gave us away like I said.”

“Not that Jia doesn’t want to spend time with you though!,” you hurry to correct meeting those hypnotic green eyes again. “She talked about you all the time when you were gone.”

“Really?,” he smiles and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat. Or two.

“Anytime you’d call she’d get so excited. And when you’d send her something for her birthday or Christmas? All she’d talk about for a good week.”

Deep down Terry knew his sister and niece loved him. But actually hearing how he made them feel from another person made him emotional in a way he hadn’t during his time in the service.

“I have a feeling mine was the ringleader here.”

At that moment you can hear both girls squealing and giggling as the carousel like ride gently swings them higher than any playground swing would. Their arms waving and legs kicking before disappearing on the other side.

‘So you were single,’ Terry thought.

“Sorry to get you wrapped up in all this. If it makes you uncomfortable-,”

“Far as I’m concerned, we’re just two friendly adults watching two kids,” he replies holding up his hands showing he saw no harm. “If it makes you uncomfortable though-,”

“No! No I agree, just two friendly adults,” you smile. There was a glint of something behind your eyes that told Terry there was more to your daughter playing Cupid, but rather than dig he opted to leave it alone until you were ready. Hopefully trusting him enough to explain.

“Did you see us?!,” Callie shouts running up to the both of you with Jianna by her side.

“We did. Surprised yall aren’t dizzy going around so much,” you answer making the girls laugh as they shake their heads.

“We should all do the firecracker next!,” Jianna suggests, which of course Callie quickly agrees. Just a few feet across the way, the line was already filling up with teens and adults alike waiting to ride the infamous drop tower that’s been popular since you were a kid. Those already on it screaming as they quickly free fell before stopping halfway to rise and repeat the motion again.

“Afraid I’m gonna have to sit that one out girls, but maybe Uncle Terry will ride with you?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer before being pulled by the girls. Judging from the quick, concerned glance he gives you he clearly wasn’t a fan of the ride either.

‘Sorry,’ you innocently mouth when he turns to you from the line shaking his head with that cute tilted smile.

‘Later,’ he mouths back, which you didn’t fully get until he brought up the Tilted Record when the girls didn’t know what to ride next.

“You gotta ride it ma,” Callie practically begged. “It’s so much fun!”

“Yea you gotta ride it ma,” Terry playfully winks bringing those flutters back stronger than ever as a heat creeps to your cheeks. A few minutes later, you were smushed into his side pleasantly smothered by his clean, woodsy scent as you all spun around and eventually backwards. Callie and Jianna in the seat behind you having the time of their lives squealing and singing to the music playing overhead.

“You did that on purpose,” you jokingly glare up at the taller man while following behind your still somehow energized kids.

He simply shrugs with a glimpse of a smirk on his lips, “Maybe. You had fun though.”

He might’ve had a point. “Still, friends don’t do that.”

His deep chuckle and wide smile hits you deep instantly making your knees feel like jelly - something you never thought possible let alone experienced. Not even with Callie’s dad. “Best friends mess with each other all the time,” he counters. “Guess we’ve leveled up.”

“So Jia’s uncle was nice,” Callie starts. She tries peeking at you in the standing mirror as you dutch braid her hair for the night, but it’s difficult with the way her neck is craned downward.

“He was. We’ll have to get him something for winning those stuffed pigs for you and Jianna.”

“Mhm,” she agrees as you move to the last section. “So what else did you think about him? You think he’s cute?”

You knew she’d been itching to ask since you both got in the car. Especially after Terry was nice enough to make sure you got there okay before wishing you both a good night.

Securing the last braid with the small rubber band, you pat the spot beside you beckoning her to join you in the king sized bed. She instantly climbs in snuggling under the fluffy throw she loved so much. “Callie I don’t want you worrying about me and dating alright? And definitely no more blind dates.”

You still had nightmares about the one with her principal. Who can put away that much shrimp?

“I just want you to be happy. Like how you were with dad,” she whispers peering up at you.

Eventually you’d have to tell her the truth about that strained relationship and how things were only ‘happy’ for her sake.

“I am happy lovie. Long as I have you I’m good,” you smile kissing her on the forehead. “You just focus on being the amazing kid you are okay?”

She nods, sleepily smiling and clearly minutes away from slumber. “Love you ma.”

“Love you too. Now let’s get you to bed.”

Moments after returning to your bedroom, beginning to feel the familiar heaviness of your lids, a couple of short vibrations from your phone stop you from sliding under your covers curious as to who would want something this late.

Hey, it’s Terry. Got your number from Nitta (sent 10:56 pm)

She’s still feeling bad so looks like I’m bringing Jia to dance tomorrow and apparently on snack duty?? (sent 10:57 pm)

Hey and yea forgot it’s her turn. I was next week but we can switch. I’ll pick something up, no worries😊(sent 11:02 pm)

Also I can take Jia if you want? Not sure if you had other plans (sent 11:04 pm)

Was that too much? What if he thought you were trying to pry?

Nah it’s ok, I got her. And thanks for taking over🙏🏽 (sent 11:13 pm)

Look at us, friends helping friends😉 (sent 11:14 pm)

“Nice,” he thought as his hand frustratedly passed over his face. “And with the winky face? Somebody take this damn phone.”

lol always😌! (Sent 11:17 pm)

Terry didn’t realize he was holding his breath until your response finally flashed on his screen allowing him to breathe again. Relief soothing his tense muscles as he sat back against the wooden headboard.

Neither one of you were really able to sleep that night though. Thoughts of the other and the time at the fair admittedly making each a little excited about being together again the next day.

And while you never knew what was planned for the future, something told you this ‘friendship’ would be far different than your other ones.

#terry richmond #Terry richmondxblack reader #terry richmond x reader #Terry Richmond x woc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x reader #Aaron Pierre x woc

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igotanidea · 3 days ago

Text

Hero: Damian Wayne x reader

(family rules finale)

A/N: Family rules finale, ladies and gentleman! Forgive me, if I got a litlte rusty during hiatus, hope you'll still enjoy <3

Family rules masterlist

***

„Let go of me, Nightwing! She needs my help, can’t you see that-“

“Hush.”

“She is being-“

“Shut up Damian!”

Now, this, this was surprising.

Dick Grayson, the forever cool, positive and optimistic seemed to be losing his cool, clenching fists and jaw. He was not blind, duh! He saw what this asshole was doing to his daughter.

Dick was always very sensitive when it came to any type of violence and the fact that Y/N was the girl of whom Damian took a liking to was intensifying his fury tenfold.

Damn, he himself was hanging by a thread, forcing himself to not barge inside and take matters in his own, gloved hands.

But there were so many things and variables to consider. From what Dick knew about Y/N (cause Damian was not talking about her at all) she was rather withdrawn (reasons in the form of the scene unfolding in their eyes), with no friends, who would care for her. The only person who stalked her in wanting to talk was – Damian. Therefore technically, if anyone were to wander by her house at his hour would be him. And at the moment he was about to barge inside in his Robin suit.

And since Dick also knew Y/N was smart and good at connecting the dots there was a heavy risk of her figuring out that Damian=Robin. And then all the rest, getting up the hill to the identity of Batman himself.

And despite the attitude Dick had to many of Bruce’s rules, the secret identity one was a priority and the one he was not going to break.

Yet.

Lost in thoughts, he didn’t even notice Damian taking off and rushing over the lawn to her window.

“Damn! Robin, come back here!”

As if that could stop him.

If the situation wasn’t so dramatic, it would be truly hilarious.

If Y/N and/or her father were to look outside the window they would notice Nightwing and Robin struggling against one another on their estate, pulling at the cape, standing on feet, throwing batons and waving katana around.

Like freaking comic characters in a kids’ show that intends to be funny but gives the adult a heavy cringe from embarrassment.

“I’m going in!” Damian yelled.

“You are not-“

“AGGHG!”

“Stop it!” Dick did a few backflips, miraculously escaping the blade. Damn, this was so much easier a few years ago, but now his older body was a little less agile even if Grayson refused to admit it. Meanwhile, 17 year old Damian seemed to be at the peak of his abilities. Cutting Dick’s opportunity to grab Robin’s cape and hold him midair with his feet dangling furiously.

“She needs my help!”

“Actually the help would be really helpful here. “ third voice, mocking, cut into the discussion, making both Dick and Damian stop.

Y/N was leaning on the doorframe, arms folded on her chest, look of pure contempt in her eyes as he observed the two vigilantes doing only what could be described as fooling around with each other. Her cheek was reddened and there was a faint stream of blood running down her arms.

So much for Dick’s masterplan.

“Thanks for nothing, you two.” She mocked, raising an eyebrow.

“Um…” Damian stuttered, suddenly feeling awfully called out on his behavior.

“Hm? You were saying?”

“Nothing…” he looked down like a schoolboy, while Dick was standing a little behind, biting the inside of his cheek to not burst out laughing at him.

“I’m sorry, Nightwing, is this funny to you?” Y/N was too perceptive for their own good. “Please, so share the positives you see in the situation.”

“Um…” this time Dick was the one blushing like a kindergartener, caught stealing sweets from the top shelf.

“I actually thought you were supposed to help people?”

“Um…”

“Wow, how do you help anyone if you can’t even make one sentence?”

“Ok, enough.” Finally Damian managed to get his tongue back “this is enough.”

“Is it?”

God, she was infuriating even now. He was trying to help her (again) and she was pushing him away (again).

“Stop it.”

“Or what?”

“Or- or-“

“Or what?” she repeated, her eyes fixed on him, almost drilling a hole into his masked face.

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“You’re the one playing catch on my lawn!”

“I’m trying to free you from the abuser your father is!”

“Well look how it worked!”

“It would be much better if you try to be a little more appreciative!”

“Screw you!”

“What?!”

This girl never made any sense. How was it possible that he fell for this chaotic mess of a human being. She was making him crazy. Crazy! And not in a good sense.

“How long have you been sitting on that tree?”

“Well, um-“

“This is my fault-“ Dick tried to interject but she sent him a look so full of fury he had to take a step back with hands raised in surrender.

“I’m not talking to you.” She growled to Dick, turning back to Damian. “I am so done! I’m done! Men are just completely useless!”

“But-“

“You know what, heroes are useless!”

Now this hurt.

“This is not fair-“ Damian started, but it was too late. Months of abuse, fear and holding her emotions back for the sake of everyone else found a way out in the wave of white fury, blinding her rational thinking. She was so tired of waiting for someone to help her. Exhausted from hoping for a prince on a white horse to come and take her away from this place.

She was not helpless.

And this line of thinking got her into the crazy decision of taking matters in her own hands.

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you going!? Wait! Wait, what are you going to do?! Stop!”

As she turned on her heel, blind and deaf to any external stimuli, walking back towards the house like a mad woman Damian immediately took after her. And Dick did too.

If Y/N was a supernatural being this would be the moment for her to go into a magical change in the cloud of white light.

This would be the moment for her to get a silly, fairy-like outfit, a cape and/or ability to fly and beam lasers from her eyes.

But this was reality and not a manga show.

And she was a hero even without a latex costume.

Or maybe – that was what made her more of a hero.

***

“Please remind me to never make that girl angry.”

Damian scoffed, but there was a hint of smugness in his voice as he responded.

“That was something, wasn’t it?”

Half an hour later, Dick and Damian were leaning over the same tree by her house, watching her father being taken by the police.

Shockingly (or maybe not so much), pushed to the very edge of her endurance, Y/N had walked inside the house, and with zero second guessing or doubts, had called the police, reporting the abuse she had been experiencing from her parent.

Damian had never been more proud of anyone in his entire life.

And she did it without his help.

Which under any other circumstances would probably make him mad, cause he was supposed to be the savior, but hey – having a girl who could hold her own was even better.

“You know anyone else would probably call her mental—”

“Hey! Hold your tongue Grayson!”

“Hm? Why?” Dick smirked “getting territorial?”

“Shut up!”

“She’s not even your girl, you know.”

“I said shut up!”

“Please don’t start again-“

***

“Hey Y/N, can we talk?”

She was talking to the policeman, giving her explanations on the situation, looking a little fatigued from everything that happened, but upon hearing his voice turned around.

“I don’t know, I am a little busy here-”

“I’ll take it from here, officer.” Damian cut off not only her words but any possible objection from the policeman, gently grabbing her forearm and leading her away from the crime scene.

“Where’s your babysitter?” she teased, seeing as Nightwing was nowhere to be found.

“He was getting a little too fearless for his own good so I bound him to the tree.”

“You’re joking.” She chuckled, “wait. You are joking right? Please tell me, you didn’t actually trap Nightwing on my tree.”

“Relax. He’s not in immediate danger. At least not at the moment.”

“The hell does that-?”

“How are you feeling?” he interrupted her again, studying her face from behind the mask, taking in the pale face, tired eyes and relief mixed with worry, etched on her face. “And do not try to put on a brave face.”

“How do you think I feel?”

“I’m not a mind reader.”

“Too bad. Cause that’s not something I could explain in a few words. At the moment I am mostly exhausted. But also a bit of fear.”

“Of what?”

“Future. Now that my dad would probably end up locked up… what will happen to me?”

“Y/N…”

“You know I never asked you how you know my name.”

“Y/N…”

“Do you learn the names of everyone in Gotham? Didn’t take you for the considerate type.”

“How is it possible that you switch between acting vulnerable and mean so swiftly?” he mocked, hiding the fact that her words actually did hit a nerve.

“Maybe it’s my superpower.” She sighed.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?” she kept her eyes on the ground, her mind suddenly starting to spin as she only now started considering the consequences of her actions.

Damian cupped her cheek, softly, unable to stop himself from the gesture of affection, guiding her eyes on him.

“You did the right thing.” He whispered

“Did I?” her voice shook a little “then why does it feel like I’m –”

“No. No, don’t even finish that sentence.” He rubbed her skin, shocking not only her but also himself. “You were the victim here and he deserves everything that is going to happen to him now. He had it coming. Forcing you to get information on Waynes? Using you to get to me and –“

They both froze.

Shit.

Shit, he said “to me”. And there was no way she wouldn’t catch up on that, even with her tiredness and distraction.

“Are you—”

“Y/N.”

“Damian?”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I know, but- but why-? How-? When-?”

“Not now.”

“But-“

“Not now, Y/N.” he cupped both her cheeks, keeping eyes on her “Not with so many people around. Later, I promise.”

“You promise, huh? And I’m just supposed to trust you? How long have you known about-“

“A few days, I swear. If I knew earlier than-“ he clenched his jaw, his hold on her becoming a little tighter. “then I wouldn’t hold myself responsible for my own actions towards your father. Bastard.”

“Well it’s done now…”

“I’m not leaving you alone, you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

“Ouch.”

“Oh, don’t act like that actually did hurt you.”

“And if I told you it did, would you kiss it better?”

“Robin!” she teased “are you flirting?”

Damian blushed in response, feeling like a total idiot and completely out-of-character. Damn Grayson and damn trying to copy his stupid smug way of talking to girls. Clearly it wasn’t working for him.

“I- I mean, I-“

She only smiled softly, standing on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek, letting her lips linger on the skin a little longer than necessary.

“That’s all you get for now.”

“But-“

“You got some heavy explaining to do. But on the good side? I won’t be used a snitch since now, so who knows where this goes…” she turned to walk away but he grabbed her hand and spun her around to him

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

Screw his attitude. Screw copying Grayson and keeping his distance. Screw the pretenses. Screw everything.

He pulled her into his chest, softly, almost shyly pressing her lips to his, feeling the tips of his ears burning. He was kissing her. She was kissing him. And it felt…

Good.

So good.

Not like that first kiss at the Wayne’s gala when they simply got lost in the moment.

No.

This one was more deliberate, more mature and definitely wanted by both of them. As if everything that happened in the short span of a few months made them more aware of their own emotions and needs.

And even though it did not clear all the misunderstandings and understatements, it was a good way forward, with his lips moving against hers, and her nose brushing affectionately over his.

Soft, sweet and seemingly innocent, but filled with so many feelings simmering under the surface.

“I’ll take care of you…” he whispered, pulling back after a moment, connecting their foreheads.

“I don’t need you to take care of me…”

“I hate you. You’re ruining the moment, Y/L/N. I am going to take care of you, whether you like it or not.”

She chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“If this thing between us is going to work, I seriously hope you are never going to change.”

Damian groaned internally.

She was going to make him go crazy in the foreseeable future.

But he was not going to let go.

Not all heroes wear capes...

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher @urdarlingali @emmalove1111 @crookedmakerfury @herondale-lightworm @itzjustj-1000 @ginger24880 @anonymousmuffinbear @adharawitch @jasons-little-princess @sharkybabydoll @cupids-diner @whydoyoucare866 @ladychibirae @amber-content @atadoddinnit @mouse-face1 @m3ntally-unstable @jinviktor @idonthaveanameforthisacc @no-lessthan3 @simp-simp-no-mi

@thotsofadepravedwoman @lookingforsyd @13shewhomustnotbenamed @bloodyboi @kore-of-the-underworld @girlblogger-04 @cloudserenity

#damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #robin x y/n #robin x you

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httpsdana · 3 days ago

Note

Hi how are you, please can you do something with Pau Cubarsi and just something super sweet and fluffy x

Blush and Bliss~Pau Cubarsi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

i enjoyed writing this so much. enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

It’s a Friday night, and y/n finally convinced Pau to do a self-care evening with her. He was hesitant at first, but with after a little pleading and a playful pout, he caved, laughing as he said, “Alright, princesa, whatever you want.”

She set up everything in the bathroom, laying out face masks, lip masks, and even some under-eye patches. Pau looks at it all with wide eyes, a bit overwhelmed. “Are we really putting all of this on my face?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, and you’ll love it!” she insisted holding up a fluffy headband. “Now sit down, handsome. This is going to be so relaxing.”

He chuckles, sitting on the edge of the tub. “If you say so. But only because my princesa wants to pamper me.” He lets her put the headband on, holding back a laugh as she adjust it to keep his hair out of his face.

"you look so cute" she pinched his cheeks, making him roll his eyes playfully, opposite to the blush that found its way on his cheeks

She started by applying a hydrating face mask to his skin, and Pau sits still for about ten seconds before leaning in, trying to steal a kiss. “Ah-ah,” she denys, pushing him back gently. “We can’t mess up the mask, Pau! Give it a few minutes.”

He pouts, feigning offense. “You’re so cruel,” he teases. “How am I supposed to sit here with you looking so cute and not kiss you?”

y/n laughs slightly, rolling her eyes. “You’ll survive. Let me just finish applying the mask.” Once it’s on, she grabs two pink lip masks, handing one to him. “Okay, now this one goes on your lips.”

Pau examines the lip mask with curiosity. “It’s… pink,” he says, chuckling. “Are you sure this is going to make me look good?”

“Of course!” she grins, peeling the backing off and helping him place it on his lips. “You’re going to be the most radiant man in Barcelona.”

He tries to speak but remembers the mask and just gives her an exaggerated thumbs-up, making her giggle. Then she puts on her own lip mask, sitting down beside him.

y/n sits there, scrolling through her phone, showing him funny memes and videos, and he’s trying to laugh without moving the mask. But after a few minutes, he scoots closer, eyes twinkling with mischief. She narrows her eyes at him. “Pau… don’t even think about it.” she mumbled under the mask

He feigns innocence, his eyes wide. “Think about what, cariño?” he said, his mask slipping a bit.

She gives him a playful glare. “You know what. No sneaking kisses. We need these to stay put.”

He pouts again, mumbling through the mask, “You’re so mean.” Then he adds in a dramatic tone, “I’m suffering, and you don’t even care. I just want one little kiss.”

“Patience,” she giggles. “Good things come to those who wait.” She pats his cheek, and he sighs, pretending to be heartbroken.

Eventually, the time is up, and y/n gently peels off the lip and face masks. Pau watches her carefully, his green eyes watching intensely every detail of her face as she gently helped him remove the masks.

He eagerly waited for her to finish so he can finally close the distance between them. y/n leaned in to inspect his face, admiring how soft his skin looks.

“There,” she say with a satisfied smile, running a finger along his jaw. “You look radiant, Pau. How do you feel?”

He grins, reaching up to touch his cheeks. “Like I’m glowing. Guess my princesa knows what she’s doing.”

She's about to respond when he suddenly grabs the back of her neck and pulls her close pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. y/n laughs against him, feeling the warmth of his hands and the giddy happiness bubbling up in her chest. He pulls back with a mischievous grin. “Finally!” he says. “You have no idea how hard that was.”

She giggles, resting her forehead against his. “You survived. And now you’re all soft and pampered.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed with the results. “I hate to admit it, but you might be onto something with this self-care thing.”

“See?” she said in a teasing tone. “Next time, you won’t even need convincing.”

“Next time?” he laughs, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his lap. “Only if it means I get more time like this with you.” He brushes his nose against hers, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. “And maybe a few more of those kisses.”

She smiles, brushing a thumb over his bottom lip. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Pau. Otherwise, I’d make you wait even longer.”

“Oh, so I’m cute now?” he teases, his eyes gleaming with mischief, although his cheeks had turned into the darkest shade of red. “You didn’t seem to think I was cute when you were pushing me away earlier.”

y/n laughs at his words playfully rolling her eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re adorable. But let’s go finish our self-care night with some popcorn and a movie. I promise no more masks, just you, me, and maybe a blanket fort.”

He lights up at the idea, taking her hand and tugging you toward the living room. “That,” he says, squeezing her hand, “sounds perfect. As long as I get to hold my princesa the whole time.”

The two of them end the night snuggled up in a cozy blanket fort, laughing, sharing popcorn, and stealing plenty of kisses—face masks no longer in the way.

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bisnes-socks · 3 days ago

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okay let's go bananas 🍌

what jumps out at me about bananas is how fruity it is. in many ways lmao.

first of all, i want to talk about his skill once again. because these lyrics are skilled.

so in rap music there are rhyme schemes and there are thematical schemes. a rhyme scheme is about rhyming words and how you alternate between different rhyme types. a thematical scheme is about what you're talking about and how you bake one lyrical theme into different meanings through metaphor. most rap songs will have multiple thematical schemes through the song, and holding on to one thematical scheme for several bars let alone verses takes skill.

well. bananas holds on to one thematical scheme through the whole entire song. and that theme is, basically, fruit and vegetable. there are ten different fruits and vegetables mentioned in the song and multiple of them are not only there to help a rhyme scheme but because they have metaphorical or innuendo meanings that fit the lyrical content, the subject of the song. they further the plot, so to speak.

on top of that, i'd say at least three of them also work to multiply the fruit theme and lift it into a different level, but i'll talk about that more a bit later.

he is really skilled at using this fruit and veg scheme to "further the plot" and paint a picture. so let's look at some of the bars.

"pokella on mandariinit kainalossa" meaning "the bouncer has mandarins under his armpits". if you understand the line, it's not only hilarious but informative. if you don't, let me explain. this line refers to a finnish slang term mandariinikana, mandarin chicken. mandariinikana is someone who pretends and acts like their biceps are bigger than they actually are. mandariinikana will hold their arms a bit further away from their torso, to make it look like their muscles are so big their arms simply cannot just rest at their sides and touch their body - but in reality, there is no muscle there. in fact, what is actually between their "biceps" and their torso is just air, empty space. so much space you could fit mandarins in their armpits. hence -> "pokella on mandariinit kainalossa" is not only a clever bar in the fruit scheme, it also tells us so much about what kind of character this bouncer is. a very smart line!

"en ole greippi, en ole lime, olen makea ja onnelline" meaning "i'm not a greip fruit, i'm not a lime, i'm sweet and happy" excellent use of the fruit scheme! what does this bar tell us? greip fruits and limes are sour. he denounces being sour, and underlines that he is sweet. which, by the way! in finnish makea works the same way as cool in english. if someone is makea (or makee) that means they are cool. i think he uses makea here to mean both sweet and cool at the same time.

second verse "aamulla kurkut silmillä ja mun otsaan on kasvanut tatti" again, such a cool and informative way to use the thematical scheme. "aamulla kurkut silmillä" meaning "cucumbers on my eyelids in the morning" paints a vivid picture and gives us so much information about where we are in the story. "otsaan on kasvanut tatti" now we're once again deep in finnish territory but i'll try. tatti otsassa (bolete mushroom on the forehead) is a cleaner version of kyrpä otsassa (cock on the forehead) and, do not ask me where this comes from, but kyrpä otsassa means you're very annoyed and put out. so again, using the thematical scheme in a clever way, he has informed us of the mood in the story now.

and so we get to the eggplant. now. eggplant, peach and banana (and the way he's been using bananas in his live shows..) are what i meant before, when i said some of these fruits are opening up another level to this fruity thematical scheme.

because like.

this song is pretty gay. and i don't think that's an accident.

it's not just that the bouncer is checking him out, it's that he notices. giving the bouncer the good old look back, hm? and his DM's are full of eggplants, dick pics. is this a gay club, where everyone is "going bananas"? because hear me out.

jere would have grown up at a time where fruittari was a term used to describe certain type of men. and yes the word fruittari comes from the english word fruit. fruittari men weren't necessarily gay, they were just sort of.. male fashionistas? at a time where it was, i guess, so unusual for men to care about their looks that it needed a term lmao.

now like i said, fruittari men weren't necessarily gay, but then that word isn't really used anymore, not in that way. and i would argue that to refer to any man as any type of fruit, in today's finland, would come across as calling them gay.

so for him to build an entire fruit scheme to describe both himself and other (male) charcters in the song? yeah that's kinda fruity in the gay way lmao.

now, i'm not saying this is a coming out song. i'm saying he's clever to recognise the implications of the fruit and veg scheme and to lean into it, rather than trying to no-homo the scheme. i don't think he cares what people make of his sexuality. i mean hell, it could be a coming out song! or it could just be him being gay for 3 minutes for the thematical scheme of it all. who knows! either way it fucking slaps.

my unpopular(?) opinion is that bananas doesn't have a deep secret meaning behind it, i think it's about what it says on the tin: partying. but of course, when you look at the placement of the song on the album, you can make conclusions if partying also works as a metaphor of some sort in the album narrative. or it could very well be the sort of partying that ultimately has had to end, part of the toxic lifestyle that snuck into his life after the whirldwind of 2023.

however. this song sounds kinda old school to me, for multiple reasons. the sound itself fits this new käärijä era, but thematically and lyrically this also has the ghost of like välikuolema or even like puuta heinää or something. this sounds like the bratty yapper käärijä.

and towards the end of the song you hear these synth hits that remind me of early 2000's, idk like in da club by 50cent etc. so even more old school.

and there's one detail that kind of dates this song. at the very end he says "paita auki Copacabanas". i don't think he means the actual real copacabana in brasil, i think he means a club in helsinki that had a famous dance floor that could fit like hundreds of people. and the club was known for letting absolutely no-one skip the queue, because you could not reserve tables on the restaurant side of the establishment after nine - and in the beginning of the song he is queuing.

well, copacabana hasn't existed in years. i don't remember exactly when it closed, but a new club opened to where is used to be in 2016, so it's been at least 8-9 years.

so maybe it's a nostalgic song? or maybe it's about slipping into old habits? i don't know.

what i do know it's damn clever either way.

this post is dedicated to anon, who asked me about bananas, got me thinking about it, and so i wrote like the entire thematical scheme bit at 1:30 am

#käärijä

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drewsarms · 1 day ago

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𓍼 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི more dark/icky!rafe bc you guys seems to loveeee him. Heavily inspired by these two post!! post 1 post 2

warnings: I would like to say I do not condone abuse or domestic violence. do NOT try to clock me. This is all fantasy. You have been warned. This is very…sinister maybe disturbing for some so proceed and read with caution. mentions of ownership, branding, slapping, spitting, tear licking, corruption, manipulation, very slight mentions of blood, 18+ mdni!!

If you sat and thought about the situation that you were in now it may seem troubling. You found yourself always asking how you’d end up with Rafe. With his actions. The people from The Cut and Figure 8 asks the same things to themselves and among their peers. You were such a sweet girl (still are). Always helping out when needed. Always being at arms reach for anyone despite what the situation was but now…now it was different. Instead of being there for everyone else it was always Rafe. Rafe was always in the picture. The cold hard stares you’d recieve from people did bother you to an extent but then again you were happy. If the word happy could ever describe it. Being up under Rafe and always at his service was something you loved, something that you’d never thought would bring you so much joy.

Fortunate was the word to describe it. To describe your connection with Rafe. Many girls would have loved to be in your place, right? The busted lip. The bruising. The branding from his ring. The burn mark from his bike when you tried to leave him. The accusations of your mind slipping to places it shouldn’t have been. Does he really love me? Why is he doing this? Is this wrong? But to you, the markings made up for it. The markings were your answer. I mean, why would he put markings that people could see, that people would know who you belonged to if he didn’t truly love you?

You found yourself stumbling in the bathroom, almost teary eyed from how hard Rafe pulled your hair when you asked him a question. “Can I go cover these bruises up? People are staring.” That was all you asked. You didn’t think it would cause such a commotion. As you rubbed your bruises, remembering what happened the last time, you overheard girls whispering as you stared at yourself in the mirror fixing your makeup. Do you think she lets him do that to her? She was such a sweet girl before. You would’ve never thought something like that would happen to her. How could she stay with a man who beats her?

“Beats me?” You thought. No. It wasn’t “beating” it couldn’t have been. It was love. At least that’s what he told you when you’d cry for him to stop. That’s what you believed. You believed any and everything that came out of Rafe’s mouth.

Wiping away your tears, trying your best to seem like you handled the situation you found Rafe amongst his friends. Your grabbed gently at his bicep. “Can we please leave. There’s something I need to talk about.” That was it. That was the last thing you remembered to come out of your mouth coherently as Rafe dragged you out of the truck and into his room.

Marks covered your entire body as you laid on the bed. A faint taste of blood swirling in your mouth, mixed with Rafe’s spit that he watched trickle down your throat, as you looked up at him in fear. “How many fucking times have I told you not to ask me questions like that?” A harsh slap coming down against your cheek and then your swollen pussy. You whined, trying so hard to conceal your cries. You didn’t want him to think he was hurting you. You didn’t want him to know how bad this was affecting you. You wanted to be his good little girl and crying because you were in pain wasn’t going to show that. “I’m so-sorry daddy. I promise it won’t happen again!” Rafe’s mind was somewhere else as he positioned three fingers against your sopping hole. “You said that the last time didn’t you bun?” Rafe pushed three fingers inside you of you, releasing a stringed cry from your lips.

You were already a mess. Bruises forming on your skin from his fist and spit dripping off your face as Rafe rubbed it in, ruining your makeup more than your tears ever could. You pressed your legs together hoping he’d go easy. But that was the thing. Rafe never went easy. Especially when he was like this. He absolutely loved doing this to you, more than he’d like to admit and secretly you loved it too.“Open those legs or I’m gonna make it worse for you.” How much worse could this possibly get? How much farther could he take this? That was a question to an answer didn’t want to feel, you didn’t want to find out. Rafe added another finger as he watched you stretch out around him. He reached up and pinched your nipples. Your mind was completely blank at this point. The only feeling you had was the fuzziness coming from your stomach down to your feet and the harsh lingering feeling of his slaps all across your body. “This will fucking teach you, won’t it?” Rafe started to slide his fingers in and out of you faster making you soak his sheets. The feeling of regret and somewhat wavered thoughts ran across the frontal lobe of your brain. What was left of it anyway.

Was this luck? Was this what you considered to be fortunate? Your tears welled up in your eyes, coming down like hurricane rain. You began to hiccup and sniffle as you reached out for Rafe, hoping to feel that sense of comfort that always made you realize that he loved you, that this is what you wanted. Rafe cups your face as he stares blankly at your witless expression, eyes widened and brows raised. “Aw bunny. Are those tears? It feels good doesn’t it?” Rafe slowly licks your tears while moaning against your face. If you were in your right mind you’d tell him no, it didn’t feel good, but as corrupted as you were it felt like a high you couldn’t, didn’t, want to come down from. You shook your head earning another harsh slap, this time right against your mouth, making you bleed more promptly. “Answer me.” An elated screech came from your swollen lips as he pumped faster now adding a fourth finger. “Y-yes daddy! Please don’t stop!” And he wasn’t. Not until you were a shaking, panting, whining, pleading, eye rolling mess for him. Not until you realized that what he was doing to you, what he’d say to you, was the right thing. After all, Rafe was doing this because he loved you and those kisses to your forehead while he whispered how good you were for him proved it.

The love for him was unbearable. This is what love was. This was Rafe’s way of showing just how much you meant to him. How could you have ever questioned him?

Taglist 🏷️: @nemesyaaa @starkeysprincess @starkeyslove @venic-bxtch @archiveofvirtue @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesangelita @fae-of-prey @bunnyrafe @wearemadeofstardust0 @starkeysbebe @shellxrls @erwinsvow

#dolly notes ໒ྀི #rafe cameron #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #dark!rafe #icky!rafe

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