#jesus christ why is it so hard to get a ride to work :')

[brainfullofbees]

.

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 2

Okay, so I didn't realize how much building I was gonna do around (Y/n's) social life so this chapter is honestly about knowing (y/n). Anyways, the next chapter will be from the batfam's pov and focus more on the yandere bits! Hope you enjoy this chapter tho!

Tag List!: @sitepathos @ferakillia @uknowimdumb @shycreatorreview @niggrrooo @dhanyasri @cantfindmelol @space1crow @earth-to-mee @rosecentury @yuyuzi-ling @simpingfor-wakasa @bat1212 @sheepintherain @person-from-daaaa-voidddd @resident-cryptid @cupids-pretty-boy @danni1323

The change started slowly on a normal evening, an evening like every other. It was a football season game day, the big match between the Gotham City High Bats and the Gotham Prep Knights. For the rich prep kids, this was nothing more than another game, but for your school, this game was everything. This would help your school get the recognition and funding it deserves, and allow some students to be scouted and rewarded for their talent.

Not only that, but Gotham Prep always, every season goes to state, beating out all the other public schools in the city. They haven’t lost a game since the early 80s so there was a lot riding on this game. 

Your role, funnily enough, was representing the school as one of the Gotham City High school cheerleaders. Turns out that the gymnastics classes you took before were actually useful for purposes other than trying to impress Dick. You surprisingly took to cheerleading like a fish to water, liking the competitiveness and sense of belonging that came from joining the team. 

Anyways, you, the cheer team, and the football team were on a bus headed towards the bigger, better Gotham Prep football field. The bus was loud with music and schoolmates hyping each other up for the big game. Ethan, a friend of yours on the football team was nervously shaking his leg and squeezing his helmet so hard you thought it would crack.

Both you and your friend Arya noticed.

“Ethan, the game hasn’t even started yet and I already see a crack forming on your helmet.” You said jokingly, a gentle arm on his shoulder.

He startled, “Jesus Christ (Y/n) warn a guy next time.” Ethan spoke, offering a nervous smile.

“You need to stop freaking out bro. When you do, it freaks out the others on the team.” Arya gently said.

“I know, I know but— but there’s just a lot riding on this game. For a lot of us, this is our only way to get out of Gotham, and if we screw up the finals, we’ll be stuck here forever.” Ethan said solemnly, looking around at all his teammates.

“Well then good thing you guys aren’t gonna lose. Y’all have spent two years training to make this comeback, to make sure that Gotham City High finally gets this win. I promise you’ve worked harder than those assholes at Gotham Prep, so just go out there and put your training to use. Don’t let your nerves get to you, you have no reason to.” You calmly said.

“Yeah—yeah, we have trained harder, haven't we? Yeah, you’re right! We've just gotta go out there and play like we've practiced.” Ethan exclaimed, as if suddenly realizing why he should have confidence in himself and his team.

“Exactly!” Arya said, matching his enthusiasm and hitting Ethan playfully on the shoulder. 

The rest of the bus ride to the stadium was louder than ever, the coach and other teammates taking turns to hype up the more nervous members, to get them confident for the field. Everything was about normal once everyone made it to the stadium. The band was set up, and people were flooding the bleachers. It wasn’t until the last ten minutes before the game when normalcy died.

“Hey (Y/n), isn’t that your family?” A girl, Maya, says.

Lo’ and behold, Bruce Wayne and his entire gaggle of children were sitting on the home side of the bleachers, sporting Gotham Prep t-shirts. 

“What—oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. What the hell are they doing here, they don’t even like football like that!?” You shout in frustration.

It was then when you remembered a conversation Dick, Bruce, and Damian had at the dinner table. Something about how it would help Damian out if he started going to school events and games, getting him acclimated to what being a normal teenager was like. That was all fine and dandy, but you didn't think the entire damn family was going to show up. Oh, the gossip columns are gonna have a field day with this. You could already imagine the headlines, “Bruce Wayne openly isolates daughter (Y/n) Wayne” or even, “The Wayne Family once again publicly shows dislike for daughter (Y/n) Wayne.”

You rolled your eyes at the thought, you had bigger things to worry about right now.

“Are you good (Y/n)?” Arya questions softly. 

She was one of the only people who you spoke your sorrows to, one of the only people who actually knows of just how lonely you were. Of course everyone knew that Bruce Wayne and his family didn't really like you very much– thank you Vicky vale– but nobody but Arya and Ethan really understood the crux of your situation. 

“Yeah, I'm all good bro, don't worry about it. Just focus on the game.” You said dismissively. It didn't bother you anymore, sure it hurt a little bit, but this was expected.

“Alright, its time to shake hands with the other team, everyone line up!” the football Coach, Coach Daniels, all but yelled.

You sighed, moving to the front of the line for the cheerleaders; you were team captain after all. Both the football teams and cheerleaders made their way to the center of the field where they met. You looked back at the rest of your team, you all knew that this was going to be an unpleasant interaction, it always was. The Gotham Prep cheer captain walked up to you, disdain and poorly concealed disgust on her face. You all quickly shook hands, trying to get this exhausting ordeal done and over with, but of course the other captain had to open her mouth.

“You lower end city girls sure have your own sense of style.” Darla, which was basically code for calling you and your team sluts. Wow, how original.

“You should see what’s underneath the jacket.” You replied, giving her a sharp smile.

She floundered, clearly expecting her insult to rile you and your team up. 

“Ugh, as expected of Bruce Wayne’s biggest embarrassment. You sad Daddy doesn't like you? Or maybe she’s just glad she gets to mooch off of him before he ends up disowning her.” Another girl pipes up, drawing mind grating giggles from the rest of their team. You recognized her, she was the daughter of some hot-shot CEO.

You just tiredly look back at your team, a few of them getting angry on your behalf while others looked to you in concern. 

“What, not going to say anything?” The other captain haughtily questioned. 

“I mean, what exactly is the response you’re expecting? Yeah, Bruce Wayne doesn't like me, but at least I didn't have to buy my way into the cheer team or have my daddy pay to make sure I wasn't held back.” You stated boredly.

She was silent in shock, right before the anger came bursting through.

“You whore! I’m going to fuck you up, take you to court and sue you!” She shrieked.

“You’re going to sue me? You mean sue Bruce Wayne?” You snorted, “Like that’ll ever happen. And bitch, you couldn’t fight if your life depended on it, so next time you threaten me remember–I can and will beat the ever-loving shit outta you.”

That must have sparked some fear in her because she just turned around and led her team back to their side of the field. You’re sure others noticed your altercation, obviously having no idea what was being said, but it was clear to both sides of the field that nothing good was said. You’re ready to turn back to your side when you accidentally make eye contact with Tim. The cold, calculating look in his eyes has you shifting in discomfort, you quickly look away as the cheer team and football players head back to their respective sides.

The players took their place onto the field while your team got into formation.

“Aright guys, this’s the big one! Give it all you got, just like we practiced!” You yelled.

Just like that, the whistle blew signaling that the game started. 

By the time you reach half time, Gotham Prep is fifteen points ahead of Gotham High. Your school does its low budget halftime performance which pales in comparison to the extravagant Gotham Prep performance. Your side of the stadium grows louder, louder in support of the football team. Before you know it, the boys are lining up for the second half of the game. Thankfully, Gotham High shoots up in points, the score now becoming 34 to 29. The issue is, the game is starting to come to an end with only two minutes on the clock. The crowd is loud, but everyone knows it'll be damn near impossible for Gotham High to win now. The only way to win would be to score a touch-down, which would bring Gotham High to 35 points.

It isn't until the 36 second mark when Ethan sees an opening and makes a run for it with the ball. The crowd is booming, your own voice adding to the mix of cheers and shouts. 

“Come on Ethan! Come on!” You yell, voice undoubtedly hoarse.

There's 5 seconds on the clock when Ethan dives over an opposing player and rolls into the other team's touchdown zone. The score board changes, the numbers now showcasing 34 to 35. Gotham City High with 35. Everyone goes crazy. You and Arya are holding each other jumping up and down. Holy shit, yall won! The football team was celebrating on the field, as they’re announced as the winners, a big trophy being handed into Ethan and his team's hands. And by tradition, you, Arya and the coach go grab the large gatorade barrel and proceed to soak the football team with it. There are yelps and laughs but everyone knows what it means, it means “you’ve won”. You and Arya run up to Ethan launching into him, uncaring of the gatorade now soaking your uniforms. 

It was a good day, a happy day. Everyone started loading up into the buses, starving for the victory dinner at Taco Bell. You honestly, truly forget that the Bats were even here. Shit hits the fan however, when you're in the middle of messing up a chalupa and Bruce Wayne and the rest of his brood walk in, making awkward eye contact with you. You promptly proceed to choke, Arya hitting your back to get you to stop. You do, but holy shit was that embarrassing. Also, what in the ever-loving fuck were they doing here!? 

Before you could voice your utter disbelief, another familiar face barrels into your table. Oh great.

“Hey ladies, how’d you like the game? Betcha I looked good on the field.” The voice of Adrien, a freshman player on the team, made itself known. 

He even made it a point to flex his arm muscles, hoping to impress you and Arya. You both just looked at each other before bursting out laughing. This poor freshman has been trying to get with y'all all year, despite you and Arya being sophomores. His god-awful attempts at flirting were absolutely adorable and downright hilarious. 

“Guys please don't laugh, I promise I have better pick up lines.” he begs, his demeanor that of a kicked puppy.

“I'm sorry man, you're just too adorable, we can't take you seriously.” Arya says amused.

“Why don't you go talk to one of the freshman cheerleaders? I'm sure I heard Hiba and Darla talking about how good you did on the field.” You pipped in.

“No way! Are you serious!? Oh-uh, gotta blast ladies! See ‘ya around!” Adrien stutters, excitedly scrambling off to go find the girls you mentioned.

You and Arya broke off again into a fit of laughter.

“Were you guys teasing Adrien again?” Comes a lighthearted scold from Ethan.

“Not anymore than usual. Plus, I think we finally got him to pursue girls in his own grade.” You responded, a smug smile on your face.

Ethan just chuckled before sitting down with you and Arya. You all talked and laughed some more, your mood only being slightly soured by the Wayne family’s presence at the table across from yours. You did your best to avoid their not-so-casual glances in your direction. Why they were here is a can of worms you had to marinate on later. But for now, you'd just enjoy the rest of your night.

It didn't take long before everyone started getting ready to leave. Some students had their parents come pick them up, probably to go celebrate the school's victory with their families, whilst everyone else was getting ready to load back up into the buses and head to the school where parents would be waiting for their kids. You, however, would be biking back to the manor on your own. Sure both Arya’s and Ethan’s parents had offered you a ride, but you had declined. There was no need for them to go out of their way for you, especially when they should be spending their time celebrating with their children. You’d honestly just ruin the mood with your shitty circumstances.

So as you threw away the last of your trash and started walking to leave the restaurant, you were not expecting to be stopped, let alone stopped by Bruce Wayne. You froze, not knowing what to do. What did he want?

“(Y/n),” He started, voice lacking any tell-tale emotions, “no need to get on the bus, you’ll be riding home with us.”

You noticed immediately how he didn't really give you a choice, just an order meant to be followed. You swallowed nervously, you did not, under any circumstances want to be in a car with any of them.

“There's no need for that Bruce, I–um actually left my bike back at the school and I can't just leave it there so…yeah. I’ll–I'll see you back at the manor.” You said nervously. You weren't used to talking to him and to be quite frank he scared you.

Bruce of course took note of the fact you had not called him “dad” or “father” and had called home, “the manor” instead. This is when Dick decided to chime in.

“What, you're not going to bike all the way back home, are you?” Dick jested sarcastically.

“Uh, yeah? It's how I get back home everyday.” You mention abashed. Did they seriously not even know how you got home? Whatever, you’re too tired for this.

Bruce and Dick glance at each other, their shared look holding a meaning you couldn't understand.

“Well, it doesn't matter. You’ll just ride home with us from now on.” Dick stated, faux cheer in his voice. 

“Wha–what? Hold up, I can’t just leave without my bike! It’s gonna get stolen or–”

“We’ll get a new one, now stop fussin' and get a move on,” Jason grumbles, cutting you off.

You just sigh in defeat. Why the hell are they doing this? Why now? In the end, your questions don't matter as you get marched over to the waiting Rolce Royce Limo. That was when Arya and Ethan noticed you walking away from the bus, not even noticing the Waynes in their hurry to catch up to you.

“Hey (Y/n), why are ‘ya–oh.” Arya yells out before going silent after noticing the intimidating figure of Bruce Wayne and the even more intimidating figure of Jason Todd.

“Oh, hey guys. So–uh, I actually have a ride back to the manor now so I'm all good.” You say awkwardly.

“That's–that's great! But, what about your bike bro?” Ethan questions worriedly, the awkward and almost tense energy affecting him.

“I'm just going to pray and hope that it's still there when I come back for it tomorrow.”You answer tiredly.

“Damn, well, get home safe and get some sleep. We’ll see you soon girl.” Arya says, hugging you.

You hug her back.

“You too guys, get home safe. And Ethan, good job on the field bro, we’re all super proud of you.” You voice, a small smile on your face while you give him a hug.

“Thanks (Y/n), couldn't have done it without y’all hyping me up.” He says.

“Alright, alright no more sappy, corny lines. Now get on the bus before Coach Daniels pops another blood vessel.” You joke.

“Shit, I didn't even realize that was him yelling! Ethan, we gotta go! See ya (Y/n).” Arya exclaims, practically dragging Ethan to the bus with her.

You wave at them, your smile slowly disappearing as you realize you're about to have the worst fifteen minutes of your life on this car ride. The staring you were trying to ignore when talking to your friends was more prevalent now, making you anxious as you entered the car, squirming and fiddling uncomfortably in your seat as everyone else piled in.

You internally sighed as you heard the door shut and the car engine start. Perhaps it’d be better if you drank acid and died instead, but alas, it was too late for any of that. 

You’d just do your best to stay quiet and avoid the eyes boring into your very being.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

perhaps some thoughts on Steve being real jealous and just needs some desperate reassurance (love u and ur work!!)

18+

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured.

Your nose bumped against Steve’s, barely kissing him, just letting your compliment graze his lips instead. He had his hands on your hips, kneading the soft skin there as you moved at a slow and steady pace, lazy as you fucked yourself onto his cock. Thighs squeezed on the outside of his, there was so much bare skin for you to touch, your hands smoothing over his shoulders as you rode him.

“So pretty,” you enthused softly, your thumb pressed to his jaw, his head tilting back to look up at you. His pupils were blown wide, his cheeks a lovely pink. “And all mine too. How’d I get so lucky? Huh?”

Steve groaned, lashes fluttering and his cock kicking up inside of you, twitching for his release. He squeezed your hips in warning, blunt nails scratching at you. “Baby, y’can’t say stuff like that.”

You smiled, saccharine and knowing. You ducked your head down, stamping lipgloss kisses to his cheeks, his nose, the corner of his parted lips. “I can’t?” You pouted, all faux ignorance. “Why not?”

“‘Cause I’ll come in two seconds or less,” your boyfriend gasped out, ears reddening at his admission. He groaned when you laughed, your pussy fluttering around him almost too tightly and he grabbed at your ass, stilling your movement a completely. “Don’t do that either, Jesus Christ, honey.”

“But you are all mine, aren’t you?” You asked, voice dropping lower, moving closer still until your tits brushed his bare chest. Your fingers found the gold chain he wore around his neck, playing with the links and pulling him into you. “And I’m all yours, Steve, right?”

The effect was immediate.

Steve grunted into the column of your throat, his teeth nipping at you as he began to push at your hips in earnest, desperate for friction. He was impossibly hard, nudging almost too deep and the slick, wet sounds of your cunt hugging his dick filled the room.

“Tell me again,” he gasped, hiding himself against you, his hips bucking up like he had little control over them. “Fuck, baby, tell me again, please.”

You pushed him back, hand at the base of his throat as Steve fell into the pillows, his jaw unhinged as he stared up at you in awe. He looked completely fucked out, his hands hovering over your thighs, your waist, your ass, like he didn’t know what to grab first.

So you helped him out, taking them in your own and bringing them to your tits, coaxing him into grabbing two handfuls and pushing them together in the dirtiest way. Steve swore under his breath, his eyes on your pebbled nipples that were peeking through his splayed fingers.

“You want me to tell you I’m all yours?” You asked softly, beginning to bounce a little now. Your knees were burning as you raised yourself up and down on them, but it was worth it for the expression on your boyfriend’s face. “That’s it, right? You want me to say I’m all yours and no one else’s?”

“Jesus, baby—”

“Just yours, Steve.” You nodded, skin slick now, the room too warm from your panting breaths, Steve’s hair sticking to his forehead and his eyes hazy. “No one else’s.”

“Fuck, fuck,” Steve chanted, nodding furiously as you worked yourself over him. “Just mine, yeahyeahyeah—“

“What do you think the guy at the coffee shop would think now, hmm?” You were goading, unable to help the smile on your face and you knew your words were working when Steve made a rough sound, an almost growling that had your breath hitching. “Huh, baby? He wouldn’t try to flirt with me if he saw me riding your cock—”

Steve cried out your name when he came, too sudden for him to do anything other than arch his hips up into you, chest heaving and eyes scrunched up in bliss.

He suddenly didn’t feel as jealous as he had earlier.

[mattsnight]

Car rides - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: in which y/n and Matt have sex in a car

Warnings: sex, oral (male!receiving), fingering, touching, cursing.. all that.

A/N: this is my second kinktober fanfic. Make sure to check out my first !!

You were craving chocolate, so thats why your boyfriend and you are now in his car. At first he didn’t want to go, but then you said something which caught his attention.

“Matt, can we please get chocolate?” You ask him, whining. He looks up at you, rolling his eyes.

“It’s getting too late, Doll.” He says, rejecting you.

“Baby please, I’ll give you head after..”

Thats where you went wrong. Because now, you’re in the backseat of his car, in between his legs as loud moans escape his lips. You’re giving him head, the best head he will ever experience. His hand is moving through your hair as his other hand is covering his eyes. You can feel him getting closer to the edge, so you decide to edge him a bit by pulling back. A whine escapes his lips at the loss of contact.

“Fuck- don’t stop.. y/n?” He says opening his eyes just to find you smirking up at him. You take off your shirt and shorts, leaving you in your red lace set, which Matt absolutely adores. Matt’s breath gets caught in his throat as he sees a faint outline of your tits through your bra, needing to touch you badly. His hand moves down to touch you, but you move away just in time.

“Not yet,” you start. “I need you to hold on f’me, can you do that?” You ask before hearing a desperate whimper leave his mouth as he nods.

You swirl your tongue around the tip of his extremely hard cock, hands on his thighs. “Fuck, just like that, good fuuuucking girl.” He moans out, grip on your hair tightening. You keep teasing him until both of you get enough, movements speeding up.

He won’t hang on for long. Everything is starting to get so much, the endless teasing, you in that specific outfit.. that all is enough to get him crazy.“Im gonna cum, im gonna cu-“ he repeats before shooting his cum down your throat. You swallow it all, extremely proud of your work.

Then with a sudden movement Matt pulls you into his lap, fingers trailing around on your ass. You don’t get the chance to even know what he’s doing or his fingers are already sliding through your wet folds. Your mouth falls open as you grip onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. This doesn’t make him stop. 2 fingers enter you, deep and hard. You try to control yourself, but that hope disappears when he uses his thumb to rub your clit.

“Jesus Christ— matt!” You moan out as you bounce on his fingers. The pleasure is too good to be true, it’s almost too much.

Matt goes on for that a while, making you finish around 4 times before pulling you onto his, now hard, dick. It only takes him a second before he’s deep inside of you.

As he lets you adjust to him his hands are all over you, touching your tits, ass and of course your thighs.

He’s always been gentle with you during sex, even at the beginning of your relationship. He’s never been the type to just run off after the sex, unlike the last boyfriends you’ve had. All of them had their ways, but all those ways were not how you wanted to end up, but matt, matt was different. He was caring.

You get closer to your release within seconds and so does he. Both of you are lost in the pleasure to realize its almost 5 am, but are you supposed to care? Matt finishes first, not even a second after that you do too.

“Fu-uck.. matt!” You cry out as your orgasm hits you. You fall into his arms as the pleasure fades, only leaving you breathless. Matt’s hands trace slow circles on your lower back.

“Calm down.. deep breaths, Doll. That was fucking amazing.” He says, cupping your face with his hands before kissing you deeply. You melt into him before plopping back in the passenger seat, giving him space to drive back home.

/////

KINKTOBER FANFIC 2!

Hope yall loved this one, lmk!!🫶🏻

[misserabella]

sexting with gf ellie williams!☆

(oh god, i believe that she’ll fuck you so hard after you tease her through texts…)

cw; +18 content, minors dni!, sexting, flirting, teasing, public space, reader sends an audio of how wet she is to ellie, non described bathroom sex…

ellieee

you saw ellie’s phone light up with your notification. she frowned at you before taking it.

what’s up baby? and why are u texting me? i’m literally in front of u.

what i want to tell you it’s not something dina and jesse would like to know.

her eyebrows perked up.

oh, okay. what is it then? you feeling alright?

no. i’m not feeling alright.

what? what’s wrong?

i’m horny :(

i need you els

you heard her breath hitch, and her eyes met yours when you looked at her. she adjusted herself of her place, widening her legs. you looked at her with those eyes. those droopy, needy eyes or yours that turned her the fuck on every single time.

fuuuck baby. you need me princess?

need you so bad

you bit down on your lip as you stared at her, and you swore you could hear her groan.

you look so good on your jeans… i can’t stop looking at your thighs. i miss riding them :(

and your hands, i miss your hands so much, your fingers look so cold…

a smirk grew on her features.

are you trying to suggest something here doll?

maybe…

my pussy is so wet :(

u’re lying.

want me to prove it?

ellie’s emerald eyes fell on yours and you smiled.

you suddenly got up, getting out of your seat after saying that you needed to go to the toilet for a second.

ellie sat there, waiting in confusion, listening to dina and jesse talk for about two minutes before her phone lighted up once again, your name shining on her screen. this time it was an audio.

ellie put on one of her headphones and turned the volume up before pressing play. and she almost thanked god that she did. ‘cause fuuuuck.

instead of your voice, what she was expecting, what came through the line was the sound of wetness and slick.

ellie almost blew a fuse there. you had sent her an audio of you touching your pussy to prove her just how much you needed her. jesus christ.

her boxers were suddenly too tight on her, and damp. maybe too damp. she loved the effect she had on you. how wet you’d become just for her.

shit. my house?

you smirked, and bit down on your lip.

but what are we gonna do?

each other.

els stop teasing me, i meant about dina and jesse

my tongue can do a better work on teasing you than my words can, princess. and we can always tell them the truth. that we need to fuck.

your cheeks grew hot, eyes shooting open.

christ, ellie

what? i’m not lying. if my princess needs me to fuck her then that’s what i’ll do ;) anything for my girl

oh shut up

don’t tell me what to do

eat me out

tell me what to do.

you giggled, rolling your eyes. your girlfriend could be so silly sometimes. but you loved her a little bit too much to even remotely care. you liked it. her and her little stupid remarks and pun jokes, her and her love for the universe, her and the way she’d always laugh when she wasn’t meant to…

come on darling, come back, i’m already missing your pretty face

you miss my face?

i mean yeah. don’t you miss my face?

well… yeah. now that you say it i do.

then come back and kiss it

or sit on it

or both

omw

jesus, dry af

that’s how i wanna leave you tonight

get the fuck back here now or i swear to god i’ll fuck you on the toilet

promise?

oh. she did.

-

pt. 2 of this series

ellie williams masterlist! <3

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of my earlier jobs in life was at a little pizza place. I worked there when it was first starting up. It’s the only job I’ve ever been fired from and it was because a new manager came in and cleaned house. Because my state requires a reason to be fired he said I used too much pepperoni. So now on job applications I get to write that I was fired for “excessive use of pepperoni.” Never fails to get a laugh.

Anyway! For this story to make sense I’ve first got to set the stage. This pizza place started out as the Wild West of management but one of the original investors was super committed to work programs through the prison. We hired a ton of ex convicts and they were all, to a one, super hyped on Christianity. Like born again for the sole purpose of lauding Christ with their every breath.

I hadn’t been working there long but I’d definitely noticed the Jesus bug had gone around, and as I’ve never been religious at all I tried to steer clear of the topic for my own safety.

The day our story takes place, I was folding boxes. Anyone whose ever worked pizza can attest, there’s so much box folding. It’s something that happens at every lull, the pizza machine demands box folding on a grand and epic scale.

On my right folding his stack of boxes was a guy wider than he was tall, made of pure muscle, Corey. He was newer on staff, and due to a stutter he didn’t talk much. All I knew about him was that he got hired through the rehabilitation program and had done time.

On my left folding was a tall middle-aged woman who loved to yell at me, Cindy. She and I rubbed each other the wrong way and had nothing in common, leading to a tense working relationship.

We folded boxes in silence. This was really my best case scenario as a quiet Cindy was a Cindy not riding my ass, and Corey intimidated me.

But the weight of the silence grew too much for Cindy, who finally said, “I really want to go to bible school.”

I folded a box. I had less than no idea what bible school even was and I didn’t want to get sucked into a religious topic.

On my right Corey said, “W-why, Cindy?”

“Well, cause I believe what’s in the Bible, but I just don’t know it all.”

He nodded sagely to this.

Cindy continued, “And every time I sit down to read the Bible I get real sleepy. And I know it’s the devil.”

It’s so hard to convey her tone in written format. It was delivered with the emphasis and exasperation of an inevitable inconvenience. Like, I just know it’s the squirrels eating the bird seed.

I froze in place at this pronouncement. My only exposure to Lucifer was Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics and I was trying to mentally twist into a frame of mind where The Morningstar cared enough about this one middle aged lady expanding her knowledge of the Bible that he followed her around cursing her with sleepiness when she picked it up.

I think I expected Corey to say, “Well that’s silly,” or something to acknowledge what a bizarre thing Cindy had just said.

Instead he said, “Yeah!” In a tone of complete agreement.

I didn’t look up. I tried to keep my face neutral at this development.

But something must have shown. Corey said, “You don’t believe in God?”

I shrugged casually and said, “If I did I wouldn’t talk about it at work.”

“C-cause it’s t-true. If y-you t-ry to r-read the B-bible on unsanctif-fied gr-round the d-devil m-makes you s-sleepy!”

I made a noncommittal sound and fled into the back room.

Over the next week it drove me crazy though. The logic of it wouldn’t leave me alone so finally one day when it was just Corey and I in front, and the restaurant was empty, I said, “Hey man, I have a question.”

He shrugged and listened.

“I really don’t mean this with any disrespect, I just genuinely want to know about the logistics-“

“J-ust ask.”

“Okay, so if Cindy gets tired when she reads any book, is it only the devil making her tired when it’s the Bible?”

His face went purple with fury and he yelled, “F-fuck you!” at my retreating back as I fled once more into the back room.

It will forever remain a mystery.

[millerscoffee]

heat lightning

6.5k | sub!joel miller x f!reader

gif credit: @jdmorganz

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: NO OUTBREAK. established relationship, no age gap – up to you for joel's age but he has creaky knees so..., sub!joel, bratty!joel??, mommy kink, rope kink, dom/sub dirty talk, joel whimperin' n whinin', gagging, choking, slapping, spitting, edging (m receiving), oral (f receiving - face riding), piv (unprotected), praise kink (good boy, etc.), pet names (pet, baby boy, honey, etc.), a touch of humiliation/degradation kink (spoiler: a moment of cock shaming – every body is a lovely body!), size kink (he still got that thang tho), we walk by breeding ave., sickly sweet aftercare, lingerie. dude if i missed it - it's probably in here! no use of y/n

A/N: thank u to the sweet anon (u know who u are) who requested this almost a month ago. i hope it was worth the wait! love youuuuu!!! ♡

Joel liked having his way.  Shocking.

This concept drew you to him, not only because you enjoyed being told what to do (every now and then), but even more that you wanted to challenge why he needed things to be his way in the first place.

You’ve been with Joel long enough now to know the mix of events that made him who he was.  Nights and days where he felt insecure for exposing all there was to him, but he was willing to fish it out of him to you.

Only to you.

Tonight wasn’t unlike a handful of nights the two of you shared since being together and unraveling Joel’s vulnerability.  It was beautiful, and in moments of softness, it was easy to reflect on how far he’d come.  But, right now?  You’re a little preoccupied.

---

It started earlier tonight.  Joel refused to wear contacts for the fourth time in a week, and forgot his glasses just as much.

And guess who had to remind him?  You!  Of course!  Every. Single. Time.

To wear his glasses, or put his contacts in.  But the week was busy at work – Tommy gone off again.  Or at least, this was his excuse.  More and more excuses poured throughout the week until it was a mere grunt at your suggestion.

Your knuckles blanching until you just gave up entirely. “Ah, fuck,” you hear from the kitchen, the view of Joel rubbing his eyes not long after the sound.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel,” words are sharp and you clench your teeth.  It catches Joel off guard at first, his head shooting up to meet your cold stare.  And before he can make an attempt to straighten you out, you stand up – rushing to the kitchen.  “I tell you this at least twice a fucking week.  ‘Joel, wear your glasses.  Joel, have you put your contacts in today?’  you know why your eyes hurt so fucking much?  Because you don’t listen to me, and I’m sick of it.”

“You know it’s been a rough week,” Joel’s tyrannical now, his jaw setting – ticking forward.

“Oh, I’m sorry – did I give you permission to speak?” you raise an eyebrow waiting for a reaction, but instead you witness the shift of his hips and the drop of his gaze.

He feels the energetic shift as much as you do, and seems into it.  The hitch in his breath gave him away.

“No, ma’am.”

“Bedroom.  Now.  Swear to god, if you make me repeat myself.”

So he goes and you follow.  And you bring a dining chair with you.

Placing it down, you go to the closet to grab some clothes before turning your heel to face a man whose cock shouldn’t be so fucking hard from getting your last nerve.

“I’m going to change, and you are going to sit on this chair.  Naked.  Do I need to repeat myself?”

Joel beseeches you silently with his dark stare and a steadfast shake of his head, “No, ma’am.”

You don’t respond because you don’t have to and usher yourself to the bathroom – door shuts behind you and you slip into something more dominating.

---

“Darlin’, it’s a little tight,”  Joel rattles now, his strength to hold back waning.  The rope that curled around the strong arches of his wrists tug harshly as it found tautness from behind the chair.

His wrists and ankles tied with knots that Joel taught you how to tie long ago.

The chair at the foot of the bed.

Feet planted firmly on the ground, you peer over him, changed into laced lingerie with leather accents. Red.  Cinched at the waist, your tits bloom out from the cups — daring to spill but never do.  You feel sexy, and you feel in control.  And fuck, you look so good.  Joel knows it, the way he sops you up just by his eyes.

He’s shorter than you like this, but his body still takes up so much space, and it’s intoxicating to observe Joel in such a submissive position in his sturdy frame.

“Is Darlin’ my name?” voice flat, you prop yourself up on the edge of the chair – tilting your head to scan over his body.  You take your time with each part of him.  Because his wrists are tied, yes, but you look down at the rest of him, completely stripped for you.  His hips jolt involuntarily, pathetically really, all from your words and you really watch between his legs.  The head of his cock pulsing with blush, weeping against his stomach and thigh as it arches.  And he twitches at your gaze.

“Oh, he likes that,” you remark condescendingly, and on any other day you’d be eager to wrap your lips around him.  To suck him until his toes curled and your name slipped through the air from his rough, but blissed out voice.  But tonight was about taking the lead, teaching a lesson.  Taking him how you wanted because you could.  And maybe because you loved him and wanted him to experience – to just experience without the expectation of being in command.

“Now, tell me,” you start, teasing the tops of your fingernails grazing the length of his thigh slowly – humming in approval, his body shuddering, his grunts fill the air, “what’s my name, Joel?”

“M-mommy,” the word scorches his cheeks, causing him to bite into his bottom lip and his eyes squeeze shut, precum beading to the tip.  His head hangs in unbearable arousal, chin lifting to catch your eyes.  The soft brown of his eyes, full of desire and willingness to do anything for you.  Anything… except doing what he’s told when he’s stubborn.  Your core aches when you squeeze your thighs together for relief, but you don’t falter.

“Mommy!” a fake gasp, you lean over to pat him on the cheek before smacking the skin ten percent harder, “That’s right!  Good boy!”

And that wrecks him, sends his hips flying off the seat as much as he can, but you’re quick to shove them down.  “Ah, ah, ah.  Not so fast, Mommy’s not done with you yet,” your fingers curl under his chin, coaxing him to look at you.

“How can you make me feel good, pet?  Let’s use our words,” you lean down enough for him to see your tits pushed together like this and the look on his face– god, you’d bottle it.  His brows wilted upwards, lips parting, and they’re so wet, so inviting, you want to kiss them for hours.  The right toy for you to use in pursuit of getting yourself off.

“I—I c’n use my mouth.  I wanna.  Wanna be good t’ya, mama,” and he’s almost begging.  He’s so close, you can tell he’s trying.  It’s just that, he’s distracted–  wants to devour you whole without having to ask, not like this.  He’s still not used to saying the things you so easily offer him on any other day.

“You wanna be good to me,” you repeat mockingly, tongue darting to one side of your cheek, “That’s too bad.  We’re not doing that yet, you still need to learn your lesson.  Gotta make sure you know who’s in charge, don’t we, darlin’?”

You don’t let him answer before you sit back at the edge of the bed, your legs spread as they relax against the mattress.  You watch Joel, how his head won’t look at you directly – not even if he wants to.  He feels too shy, too ashamed for not listening to you, and honestly you’re sick of it because you look fucking hot.

So you clap your hand at his chin lightly, “Miller.  Right here.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and those deep eyes take their precious time to rake their gaze over you.

“Is that how you act when a gorgeous lady’s in front of you?”

Joel lifts his brows first, then his eyes, “No, baby– I’m sorr–”

“Not my name.”

You see Joel’s mandible flutter again in frustration now because yes, you’re grinding his gears, but the vulnerability makes him uncomfortable, and he grits out, “No, mommy.  I’m. Sorry.”

“You’re on thin fucking ice Joel,” your arms cross over your chest, leaning forward to make eye contact, and though it makes your tits raise, your body language says it all: last chance.

That seems to make him reroute his stubbornnesses because he’s back to open expressions and spread thighs – thick as his cock that weeps pitifully against his abdomen and thigh.

“Yes, ma’am.”

If you were to admit it to yourself, you’re distracted.  His cock looks so good, throbbing like that – bobbing with each twitch as his balls tighten along with it and he’s so perfectly thick your mouth waters, but it is not about making his ego feel good tonight.  Not yet, anyway.  He must understand this behaviour is unacceptable.  Just when you think about caving, you’re reminded of how fucking obstinate he’s been and you get annoyed – dominant, all over again.

“Here’s how tonight's gonna go.  I’m gonna touch myself, use your mouth, and if you’re good, I’ll ride your pathetic excuse of a cock.  Sound good?”  you flash a sardonic grin cutting him off when his mouth opens, “Good!  Now shut the fuck up.”

It shouldn’t make him hard and it shouldn’t make slick gather between your legs, but of course it does because you’re both insatiable when it comes to each other.  Fueling a fire that can’t be tamed anyway, you unfurl in front of him – one palm against the lush duvet while the other trails in front of you, through the lace of your panties.  You squeeze your thighs together again, spreading your mess and there’s a wicked grin on your face because you know he knows just how it feels to have those thighs squeezing around his head.  To make that messy pussy of yours glide over his features.  And the damp fabric emits subtle sloshes from just how turned on you are by this.  You love the opportunity to have the upperhand.

Joel, he looks rabid, eyes unable to move from your core while the sweetest sounds fall out of your mouth.  Like a hypnotising trick from the circling of your clothed folds – a magician’s secret.  His stare is so animalistic you almost want to egg him on like a dog: this what you want, boy?  But you’ve got him right where you want him, and you don’t want to take him anywhere else.

“It feels good, Joel,” you confirm with no pornographic moans.  Rather a solid melody to your tone.  Grounded in your power.  You want Joel to know you can make yourself feel good without him, despite it being very much because of him.  “Better than you can make me feel.”

And Joel can’t take it anymore – he can’t stand it when you lie to him.  He’s seen you with him.  How you blossom under his touch until your thighs are shaking all on their own.  Seen drool spill from the corners of your mouth as you take and take and take from him, slurred praises floating from your needy throat.

“That ain’t fuckin’ true,” he growls like a caged animal, hips squirming into the chair, and you stop pleasing yourself – wrist frozen as the pressure on your clit becomes lighter, eyes narrow.

“Did I let you fucking speak?”  Question rhetorical, you slip your scanty panties off and wad them up before prying his mouth open and shoving them, crotch-side first, inside to mute any more rebukes.  The taste of your sex coats his tongue and his moans are muffled, eyes roll back for a fleeting moment – as if he forgot what he was even saying to begin with.  His wrists slightly turning colour from the resistance against the rope.  Hog heaven, you can hear the southern phrase drawl from his lips without the words.

“And what?  You think you can make me feel better than I can?  You really think that?” Joel finally smartens up when he realises you’re naked from the waist down and can see the slick against the seams of your thighs while your legs are apart – how turned on you are by keeping him on a line, and god the air is thick.  His eyelids droop to the sound of your voice, the scent and taste of you overcoming him as a piteous nod is given to you.  Poor baby.

It should irk you, the fact that he believes he knows your body better than you do, but it rakes the coals instead.  It’s in that he’s so eager to show you how he can get you there – makes you curious, your pussy tingles in anticipation, pulse rises.

“If I let you go, are you going to be compliant?  Because if you think you’re in control, you’re wrong and I need to know you’ll be a good boy for me.  Will you be a good boy for mommy if I tell you what to do?”

The strained pleas from the fabric and emphatic nods give you reason to follow through with your promise.  And he looks like he means it, like you’ve worn him down to submit to you fully without restraint.  You can tell he’s in pain from how hard he is.  Like he’s being edged without even touching him.  His hands must be numb, his body could tremble at the slightest touch.

It’s enough for you to waltz behind him.  You loosen the rope, ghosting your hands over the other typically warm set and despite them being tingly – he can still feel you.  His breath hitches, the slopes of his shoulders are so gorgeous from behind.  The muscles of his back taut as they flex, their silent entreat for relief.  “It’s okay,” you whisper, now that you can’t see him, you feel more inclined to be forgiving.

The arousal is a constant build between the two of you.  When you let his wrists loose, he doesn’t move.  Just rolls his knuckles into fists, bringing blood and oxygen back to the extremities.  He’s good on his word, and makes that known when you untie his ankles.  He’s giving it up to you – totally conceding, and moreover adores this side of you.  He knows he’s the only one you could ever be this assertive with because the relationship you have creates room for it.  Both of you feel safe.  His teeth tighten around your panties when you come back around to him, and you cup your small hand, comparatively, to the side of Joel’s neck.

“You good little thing.  Got mama so proud,” pushing his curls back, you pull the spit-soaked garment from between his teeth and he’s beaming, nudging his cheek against your touch hungrily.  “Go lie on the bed, honey.”

His joints creak from age when he does, having sat there for what felt like an eternity but he does exactly as you say: nothing more, nothing less.  Hums softly to himself at the feeling of being able to lie flat on his back because it feels so good, and in the brief moment it’s there without a role – your adoration for him, the gentle quirks that make him so delectable.  He deserves to sit back like this, to let his brain just take rather than supply.

However impatient he may be in the process of submission.

“You are doing so well, Joel.  I know you have a pristine mouth too, don’t you?  Are you gonna show me your tongue?”  Getting onto the bed, you walk on your knees as this newly obedient Joel sticks out his tongue flat for you to float over.  Your throat dries at that, how perfect he can be for you like this.  A smirk comes over your features, “Much better with your tongue out than running it all the time,” and you swear you see Joel’s teeth creep up in a similar smile, but you’re busy straddling his waist with your ass facing his chest to notice.

His strong nose bumps against your clit when you bracket his head.  Sipping the air abrasively, your body seizes at the sensation.  Clearly more sensitive than your confident words let on, but that’s just the thing – you are confident and extremely horny and you can admit it.  So you give in, purring deliciously when you lower over his mouth until you’re sitting completely on his face.

“Love using this mouth for my cunt,” fingers tangle through the strands of his hair and you use it to roll your hips frantically, yet methodically, against the heat of his wet mouth.  His tongue hits your folds succinctly, on purpose, and even though you haven’t allowed him to touch you, his movements are so precise it’s as if he’s rolling your hips for you.

“Fuck, you’re swimming in it now,” you groan, neck thrown back before leaning your neck over to the side to watch his eyes flutter shut – the slight shake of his achy jaw, the sweat at the top of his hairline.  He’s putting in the work to take it, even when he feels like giving up.

The squelching of your juices has you in your own trance, and though you would wait for his cock to give into the prickling at the pit of your belly, you decide to go give in to what you want in the moment – to orgasm right here, right now.  All over Joel’s face.

Pulling the top of your pubic bone, your clit exposes to the plush of lips beneath you.  “Suck.”  The instruction is simple compared to the stir of fireworks that he sets off inside you.  Because he does what you say, and how you say it, instantly.  Joel’s eyes roll back alongside his muffled, but satisfied moans that vibrate against the bundle of nerves he’s taking his time to satisfy.  Wet suction sounds fill the room when the air breaks off, his tongue swirling right underneath the hood of you and you break out in a sweat from how impossibly good he is at this.

“Y-you’re so good for mommy,” you sound wrecked, Joel looks up at you when he catches just how gone you are.  Loving to see you take what you want from him, using his mouth to pleasure yourself.  You rock deeply, your hands knead over your lace-covered tits and when you look down at him again, he can’t keep his eyes off of you.  Eating you like he worships you, and you’re certain he does.

But using him meant not warning him when you were close.

So it comes as no surprise, the influx of low, masculine, ached groans from beneath you when your body responds to its pleasure.  Your fingernails dig into your fists as you shudder and moan above him, the lightning rising from your core to your limbs in a matter of seconds – and in waves.  You lean forward, catching yourself at the headboard and let out a slight chuckle at the comedown.  The two of you surfacing in between this power dynamic.  “Shit.”

That’s short lived under your ruling, however, and you slide off of him – getting your bearings.  Joel stays still, his mouth vivid pink to match his cheeks, beard and lips sheened with your slick.  The look in his eye shows his constraint, his need for something and when you pluck your gaze down his body.  His beautiful cock straining against his abdomen, a pool of precum greets you.

“This?”  You raise both eyebrows, pointing between his legs, “This needs touchin’?”

“Please,” fuck, he sounds ruined – consumed with lust and need for anything you can give him.  He’s really begging now, not the bullshit he tried to deliver you in the beginning.

“Okay, baby,” you coo, “You’re so good for me, gonna make you feel so good.”  When you finally, finally acknowledge his cock, his abdomen jolts though you barely touch his sides.  You laugh through your nose briefly, “That bad, darlin’?”  His head sways ‘yes’ against the pillow before saying it, and you waste no more time in your pursuit to obliterate him now.

So you straddle him.  Right at his waist, angling above where his twitching cock lies.  You can feel the heat radiate off the both of you.  Your core pulsing from your orgasm, wet from slick and spit.  You have some wits about you now that you came, and it aids you in authorising the next step – the step that has every nerve at the edge of its seat for Joel.

Joel’s body.  The taut skin, the hair down his arms and across the landscape of his chest down his middle.  Your own body fills with anticipation when you anchor your hips further down until your folds are greeted by the underside of his length and it’s unhurried when you both shudder in response.

“Sh-shit, shit, darlin’–mama,” he inhales sharply, those words transitioning to whimpers when you glide your hips over his cock back and forth with intention – applying more pressure with each pass.

“Yeah, you like that?”

Joel’s tongue skates over his bottom lip as he nods frantically, and you still yourself.

“Nuh uh.  Words, tell me.  Need to hear you say it, Joel.”

“F-feels so good, honey.  Feels like my kinda paradise.”

Or at least that’s what you are pretty sure you hear.  It’s rushed from his feverish breaths, but he’s doing his best.  Wants to make an impression that he is committed to giving in.  It’s when his eyes slip shut do you lean your body over him, tilting his chin, you wrap one hand around his throat though it doesn’t quite reach around to completion.

“You beautiful man. Keep your eyes on me, yeah?”

Joel blinks them open to see your hooded eyes above him, unable to hide just how in awe he is.

“Y’look gorgeous, mama,” and shit– you feel your cunt clench around the absence of him at that.  At how candid and altruistic his words are in the moment.

“You’re one to talk,” you run the tops of your fingers against his beard, hips languid.  “Stay right here.  My good boy.  M’gonna take this big fucking cock.  That’s right, isn’t it?  Make you know for certain who it belongs to.”

And he loves hearing you talk about him like this.  Looks so serene as you sit upright, peeling the rest of your layers off until you’re both naked and he looks like he desperately wants to touch you, but you give him a stern look – not yet.  Not until I take you myself.

Reaching behind, you press the head of his cock at your entrance and hiss at the instant stretch.  Not working yourself up with his fingers shows when you envelop him like this, and you can feel him digging his heels into the bed from just how you feel around the head of him.

“M-Mommy!”

The sound of him whining is symphonic to your ears.

“Shhhh, you can take it.”  The role reversal makes you shiver, your wet sex moving down a little more before you pull up, popping off of him completely and his hips stammer trying to follow you, but he soon realises the edge you’re bringing him to.

He’s greeted with your sinister smile.

“What, honey?”  You lean over him, forcing his chin up, you deliver a slap to his cheek before sliding down his cock again – working him up and down, then off again.

His bottom lip trembles and puffs.  He’s losing his cool, hands ghosting your hips because he knows better than to touch you like this.  Not when he’s so close to getting what he wants.  The heat, the fucking heat from them – you shake.

“P-p, mama, mmngh,” his whimpers put you in a daze.  How he feels so good he can’t even form a proper sentence.  Your free hand claws at his chest while the other at your front edges him – rocking against the underside of him again.  Minutes feel like hours when you rile him up like this, and you know you look a mess too.  Fucked out, nipples peaked and you catch his gaze on them – his hunger for you extends through the room leaving heat on your skin as it radiates, the energy bouncing off from this tantric experience.  The eye contact is insane: Joel’s pupils dilated, eager against the constant spasm of his cock against your messy folds.

All humidity, sweat, and sex make their presence irrevocably known.

You’re slipping.

But you muster one last discipline, leaning down so your tits graze against his chest.  You brush your nose against his, insisting his precum spreads against your entrance.  He grunts, teeth together, hips grinding as best as he can without breeding you into your submission.  And fuck, you’d almost allow it.

Almost.

 “Should’ve worn your fucking glasses.”  You whisper against his lips, your clit brushing against the coarse hairs of his lower abdomen, and it’s exactly then does he spill over his breaking point.

“I’ll wear them, I’ll wear them!” And, fuck, Joel sounds pained – he sounds sorry, and he sounds desperate.  “Please!  Please just let me come, mama.  I wanna paint ya up so good, honey.  P-please, mama!  I’ll get fuckin’ lasik – please, just lemme in that perfect pussy!”

That’s the green light.

Placing him back inside, your hips grind on him shallowly.  Both hands tighten around his throat, albeit a bit looser than the one fist he’d have around your neck – but it seems to do the trick and you buzz in satisfaction before a choked moan fills your lungs: the sound he’s been craving.  Your body giving in, doing what it does.  It’s nature, after all, giving into these feelings.  “Fucking take this cunt.  Fill mommy up, yeah?  You wanna make me a real mama, baby?  C’mon, let go for me.  You can let go, you can move.”

It’s a lightswitch.  It’s flipping a breaker, giving Joel such permission.

You yelp when he tosses you off of him.  Onto your back, he’s on his knees within a blink – gripping your thighs, he pries you apart before his cock spears inside you with little remorse, and “Oh-my god – your cock!” you scream.  It’s exactly what you need now.  You nod through knitted brows, praises fill the space between you.  You take his chin between your thumb and pointer, one arm around his shoulders you pry his lips apart to transfer spit right inside his mouth.  Your tongue glides over his and he drinks straight from the source.  You can feel his Adam's apple wobble as it swallows what you’re giving him underneath the pad of your thumb.  “That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you mutter sloppily from the rutting of his deviant hips.

Gravity’s against you when you spit in his mouth again, getting some of it on your chin and nose, but fuck, you don’t care.  You want it filthy like this with your head half off the bed, his fingers plucking your nipples as it ripples pleasure down your center.  “I’m doin’ okay, mama?  This whatcha need?”  This sly fucker.  “S-s’perfect!”  The requirement of reassurance fastens you in the leadership role you assumed in the beginning, and you’re so fucking thrilled Joel’s your partner.  How he can deliver you mindblowing thrusts, yet still look at you through his lashes like he’s the softest motherfucker on the planet.  A gleam of pride in his eyes and at the corner of his lips when he hears your juices be tapped in a fast tempo by his heavy balls.  Like giving you pleasure is the pearl he longs to hold for dear life itself in his capable hands.

Of course, he circles your clit for good measure.  Of course he would.  Little shit.  It works like a charm.

He knows your body, said it himself.  How it operates, how to take you there.  And you’re panting, hips lift to be greeted by his thrusts all the way to the base of your stomach – achieving the spongy spot only Joel can reach.

You feel it happen like a coiling, a buildup of thin air and then all at once: immense pleasure.  It snaps, your body convulsing around his cock, core fluttering as your moans get higher, and you think he’d slow down, but it makes him work harder.  You try to keep your eyes on him, but it’s just no use, he’s too good at his job.  “F-fuckin’, mmngh,” you can’t get out much else, but you’re soaking his cock – what else could possibly be said?  Your tits bounce to his thrusts and you can tell this is it for him.  He’s been so proficient at keeping it together all this time.  Your eyes pop open then, lips wet, you tug for him to come closer.  You don’t fucking care that his sweat sticks to your shoulder when he buries his forehead against your neck.

Joel keeps his whimpers close to your ear.  His moans of your name, his passion for this feeling – all of it, right against you.  Like a secret, like a prayer and you’re the divine goddess in every moment of reverence.

“Can’t last,” he drawls, a coherent sentence flows through him for a moment and you nod, mouth brushing against the red of his neck.  “Give it to me, Joel.”  Lips dance at his pulsepoint as the contact bounces from his thrusts, and you can hear his heart thud from outside his body.  It floods you, the sawing of his cock inside, the swelling sensation against your walls.  Tugging his hair, you pull him back just enough to see his faded eyes, “Give me every drop, baby boy.  Come for mommy.”

His lips attempt to make contact with yours, but really all he can do is breathe heavily into your mouth and it’s dizzying, being each other’s oxygen.  “S-s… so p-perf–,” he tries, he really tries in making the words connect, but even his core feels shaky from his forearms on either side of your head.  You snake your hands around his throat once more, and that’s fucking it.

Joel’s sounds are a mix of the low grunts you know, tailending with particular whimpers that leave you moaning back to him like a call to each other.  Holy fuck, you’ve never heard him make that sound before.  And he’s good on his promise – coating your inside sticky with his substance, your own vibrational tone is low in your throat as you hum in approval.  Until he rides it out.  Until his pleasure turns sensitive and his hips come to an end.

“Oh, baby,” you praise, delicate hands leaving his throat, you pet his back – warm and masculine and rippled with muscles that he attained from his work.  He’s out of breath, and you both laugh at it, pressing tender kisses to his nose and lips.

“Might fuckin’ die at this rate.”

“Well, at least we had a good run.”

It feels empty when Joel pulls out of you, his lanky body shakes the bed when he gracefully thwacks onto the mattress beside you.

“Mmmng.”

A flawless response.  Mmmng, indeed.

You stretch your arms overhead, facilitating a yawn in the process.

And you don’t ignore the way it feels to have his cum spill out of you.  Hot and sticky and where it’s meant to be.

“Stay there,” you whisper, rolling onto your side, “You did so good.  I’m so proud of you, baby.”  You even speak differently now – tender and light, peppering kisses all over his tired face in satisfaction.  Slipping up to your feet, you go to the adjoined bathroom and run the bath.  Putting a couple of drops of your favourite essential oil to make the sensual experience last in the afterglow.  You peek your head out from the bathroom door when it’s ready and give him a gentle look of compassion.  “It’s ready.”

Joel grunts when he propels all of his upper body strength to sit up in one go.  You can’t get enough of him.  The way he looks – sleepy and fucked, arms thick and shoulders broad.  You have both earned this bath, even if it’s crowded.  He sinks in, and you get in front of him, and honestly you both close your eyes for a long while.  Exhausted, used.  He wraps his arms around the front of your shoulders, and it’s regulatory to your nervous system.

“I really am sorry,” he finally gruffs, wide palms cater to your shoulders as you melt and sink into the bathwater with him.  “This week’s been… it don’t matter.  You tell me ‘bout my eyes all the time, and I never listen.  I will, I promise.  I didn’t mean t’make your life harder.”

You frown at the last bit, turning in the water so your chest is against his.  Drops spill out the tub when you do.

“You never make my life harder, Joel.”

“Seems like it,” and you can tell he’s not saying it to play the victim.  He’s vulnerable and feels safe enough to share this shame with you.  “Seems like I end up fuckin’ somethin’ up.”

No.  You won’t be having any of that.

Taking his cheeks between your hands, you shake your head in tandem with your words.  “Not even close, do you understand?”  Sternly, you keep his eyes poured into yours.  “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  I mean it.  You make everyday brighter.  Even when you’re a royal pain in my ass.”

You both join in with laughter before you rest your warmed cheek to the hairs on his chest.  “I swear.”

Joel’s throat vibrates to the tune of your last words, and fingers comb through your hair, leaving you both to flutter your eyes shut in the all-too-small bathtub.

“Okay, I believe you.  But only ‘cuz I’m a pain in your ass.” 

You take in his warmth, so much as sniffing at his words, and it feels good to be connected like this after those moments of taking matters into your own hands.  It feels good for both of you to be unarmed to each other without consequence.

When it's time for you to get out, you dry off before holding out a towel to wrap around him and you lean up, pressing your lips to his – both naked and comfortable.  Basking in the aftermath – the scene you two created in the bedroom you transition into.  Your eyes scan over the bed: the unkept version of sheets, pillows haphazardly thrown together and you individually slip your clothes on.  It feels nice to have a soft fabric cloak over your skin, his t-shirt fitting easily from the worn material.  Joel takes your hand in one of his, the dining chair in the other.  You look back at the room before flipping the light off.  At least for a moment, you’re both pretty tired and will work around the mess soon.

Then there's the kitchen.  Where it started.  But you don’t feel the same aggravation creep up as it did before.  Instead, Joel wraps his arms protectively around you when you rise to your tiptoes to grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard.  It feels like slipping into a warm pool, and you never want to leave.  He is more enchanting than the tub could ever be.

“Hot liquid for my man?”

“Y’could just say tea, I ain’t gonna gag, you know?”

You snicker, turning the kettle on and closing your eyes as his chin tucks at the crease of your neck, not so sure he means it.  Coffee?  Yes.  A blend of chamomile and lavender?  You weren’t so sure.  But he doesn't turn his nose up when you press the teabag to him, so you sneak a kiss and you plop one bag in each cup.

“I dunno, you might gag,” a knowing smirk grows at the side of your cheek that Joel’s at and you mercifully knock temples, as if your brain waves could send each other the memories you have from tonight.  Everything primal and raw, all for the both of you.

“No more gaggin’ tonight,” there’s a laugh in Joel’s words and you scratch his beard idly as you pour your hot drinks when it’s time.  “That’s alright, baby boy.  Mama can handle a little bit of gagging if it means you’re taking.”

“You better watch it,” smile behind his voice, his nose nudges the edge of your jaw and a shudder draws out a small purr from deep in your chest – especially because you know there’s not an ounce of a menacing tone behind the threat.

“I’m not doing anything,” the grin transfers to your face and you turn to face him, arms wrapping around his shoulders because you can and he pulls you up until your feet leave the ground.  It’s a stretch that feels good, your heart’s content.

“Yeah, you’re just so good.  You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be bad unlike us common folk.”

And that makes your cheeks rush with blood because you know it’s only a matter of time before the tables turn.  Before you’re caught doing something Joel has told you thousands of times to do or don’t, and he has you in some precarious position to drive you back to the version of your best self.

Still, it’s funny, and you nose against the column of his neck – all sweat still mixed with the bathwater and something so innately, masculinely, Joel Miller.  “Not too good, just clever.  I get away with a lot more than you think, old man.”

“Easy.”  His tone shifts all too easily into a warning, his hips pinning you to the edge of the countertop.  Your eyes widen before you press your index finger to his lips, shushing him.

“Relax,” you pet his shoulders, before leaning up to kiss his eyelids, “I like that you’re an old, senile man I can swindle.”

“Goddamn, you’re at record time in attempting to prove just how misbehaved y’really are.”

Finishing the tea, you hand his mug off with a nonchalant shrug.

“I learn from the best, I guess.”

You wait a beat.

“So… lasik, huh?”

Joel practically chokes on his beverage.  “Uhhh…,”

“Great!  I’ll book the appointment tomorrow!”

You won’t (probably), but the look on his face is priceless.

“Yeah, yeah.”  That makes Joel smile eventually, his rough hand cupping the side of your face before planting a dichotomously tender kiss to your forehead, and you are steadfast to reciprocate the affection.

The only thing that matters, anyway.

No matter all the hardships, the restless nights.  It’s this.  It’s delivering Joel to his knees as he worships you, then securing him with a warm cup of liquids in the form of tea, bath, the undulating nature of your arms in their energetic vibrations when they find his frame.

You would take care of him.  You would catch him.

Like how rivers bend and rush to oceans:

Everything leads back to him.

taglist: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @scarletthefierce @pedritoferg - comment to be added, and please let me know if i missed you!

[sarathrwizard]

7 Day Camp Stay. Day: 2

day 2 is now here!

This day went better. Except the small worry in an unfamiliar place.

(Reminder, Donnie is me.)

Hope you enjoy day 2! under the cut!

7 Day Camp Stay

Day: 2

Donnie woke up in a panic. For a moment he thought his brothers had left him. He looked outside the tent and found them all getting ready for the day. Donnie sighed with a bit of relief. Guess it was just a dream. The wind was still going strong. When he sat up he was greeted with a tent fwapping his head. He crawled out of the tent and went over to the picnic table. He found some peanut butter and jelly and made himself a quick sandwich.

Now that Donnie had some energy. He decided to do some of the dishes that were left over from the other night. He filled a bucket with water and soap and started scrubbing away. Mikey came over and helped rins and dry the dishes. They sung together, singing musical numbers. Donnie tried his best to remember the lyrics so that Mikey could easily sing along. But he found it more difficult without the melody in the background.

Once he was done with the dishes, it was already lunch time. Turkey sandwiches, again. Did Mikey really not plan for any other lunch meals?

The day was rather slow. Nothing was really planned. No hike, no fishing, no playing around with a ball, nothing. Everyone seamed to be doing their own thing. Donnie hid back in his tent and dug out a book to read. It was called 'The Wingfeather Saga'. He didn't get very far though. He got about one or two chapters in till he was too annoyed by the constant wind nocking the tent over. He laid down and his head hit something rather hard compared to a pillow. He turned to find out what it was.

It was a sketch book and a pen with a purple ribbon around it. A gift? But it wasn't his birthday, or anywhere near it! He looked over and saw that there was another present with a blue ribbon on Leo's pillow. Donnie untide the purple ribbon. When he opened the sketchbook a note fell out.

'To Donnie. I got you guys some sketch books and pens! I was thinking you could use them to journal about your camping week! (Or anything else.) Love, Mikey.'

Donnie took a look at the front cover and it had a pink flamingo on it with a sloth riding on top. It made him chuckle. He spent some time fiddling around with the pen and sketch book for a while.

Soon, dinner was being made. Donnie ran off to the bathroom again. When he came back out from the restrooms, it was already getting dark. The trees shook in the breeze, making a flickering sound in waves. The wild dogs started barking again. He felt like it would be silly to run back to the camp. He knew those dogs where miles away! But he didn't want to walk either. That took so long! Man if only he had a scooter or something, that would work!

But soon enough, he came around the bend as the campsite came into view. It looked like Mikey got the fire burning good! Donnie was always surprised how easy it was for Mikey to start a fire. He heard Mikey singing something and clapping his hands to the beat.

"Go tell it on the mountain! Over the hills and everywhere! Go tell it on the mountain, that Jesus Christ is born!"

"I never thought of that one being a campfire song."

Donnie said as he approached the triplet.

"It's got a good rithem to it! I don't see why not!"

Mikey cheerfully smiled. He leaned over and stirred the chicken in the large pot. He then added some corn and beans. Pouring in some broth instantly made it a soup! They each sat around the fire and ate a bowl of it. All except Leo.

"Leo, why aren't you eating?"

"I'm not hunger yet, that's all!"

Leo got up from his chair.

"I think I'll take a quick shower at the shower house!"

Leo said as he grabbed his bag of clothes. Donnie watched as Leo started his very short hike of 2 blocks down the road. Which felt so much longer to Donnie when the sun had set. After they were done with their food, they set the dishes aside. Everyone else was getting ready for bed. Donnie threw a few sticks into the fire to keep the food warm.

Time had passed from 9:00 to 10:15. Leo still had not returned. Donnie couldn't help but worry a bit. He had heard the wild dogs barking very loudly about an hour ago. Donnie checked the soup to find all the water had boiled out. He sat back down and threw a few more sticks on the fire. He tapped his foot, waiting for Leo to come back.

Suddenly, a rustling sound was heard coming down the turn. Donnie assumed it was Leo, but part of him thought otherwise. He tensed up slightly, waiting to see what would come around the bend. And to his assumption, it was Leo. Coming down the road with a towel around his neck. Donnie let his shoulders loosen. Leo had on a pair of black shorts and a blue long sleeve shirt with the brightest yellow crocks you'v ever seen! Donnie wasn't sure about Leo's fashion sense, but he let it slide.

"Hey, Tello! What are you still doing up?"

"Waiting for you."

"... You didn't have to. You could have gone to bed already."

"I was keeping your food warm."

Donnie lifted the lid to show the evaporated soup. Leo cringed a little. What once was soup, was now as dry as a desert in comparison. Donnie started scooping it out into a bowl but he didn't hand it to Leo that way. He walked over to the picnic table and added a little water to it.

"Here, it has become soup again."

Donnie said as he held it out towards Leo.

Leo took the bowl and peaked inside. That looked better, more like soup with liquid and all that jaz.

"Thanks for keeping it warm."

Leo smiled. Donnie nodded in return. Leo took a few sips of the soup, then drew his eyes onto Donnie.

"Is your stomach feeling better from yesterday?"

"...How did you know about that?"

"My stomach wasn't feeling so great either. I was also sure it wasn't my stomach I was feeling."

Donnie blinked a couple times. "Twin-stinct" is what Leo called it. It was a ridiculous idea, that they could feel each other's pain or whatever. But if that wasn't true, then how did Leo know that he felt sick the other night? Donnie just sighed and drew his attention onto the fire.

"Yeah, it's better now."

"Good."

Leo finished his soup and ran off into the tent. Donnie had gone to the bathrooms one more time to brush his teeth. When he came back, Leo was already asleep. Donnie narrowed his eyes. Leo had his legs flopped all over Donnie's side of the tent. He picked Leo's legs up and shoved them over. Leo mumbled something that sounded like, "dfelbubelbludfedmbedfold-" Actually, never mind, It sounded like nothing. Donnie got into his sleeping bag and zipped it up over his head.

'5 more nights to go.'

Donnie thought to himself. He put his phone on silent and went to sleep.

________

Yay! That was day 2! It was a good day by my standers.

I hope you enjoyed it!

Lord bless you! ❤️

Last x Next

[waynes-multiverse]

Rehab – Epilogue

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, some crack, a bit of fluff and angst, hard decisions, a lot of goodbyes & all the feels

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: We're here, babes! End of the road! Thank you guys so much for everything. This was a wild ride, and I'm glad I had you in my passenger's seat 💚

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 8 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Epilogue: twin flame

You’re gonna be nowhere The loneliest kind of lonely It may be rough goin’ Just to do your thing’s the hardest thing to do…

“Morning.” Y/N smiles brightly as he stirs and slowly wakes. “Wakey, wakey, sunshine.”

Blue eyes flutter open and fearfully widen, his brow scrunches in confusion as he looks around and scans his environment. He tries to wiggle free of the handcuffs around his wrists, keeping him tied to the metal bed frame.

Not that it matters – he can’t leave either way.

She turns off the radio with a blissful sigh. “You know, that was one of his favorite songs. Your father’s,” she clarifies. “He sang it all the time. It was fucking annoying.”

“Why the hell can’t I move? Get me the fuck out of here,” the man in a sky-blue hospital gown demands and lifts his head off the mattress, only a few inches, attempting to get up.

Needless to say, that attempt is futile and fails miserably.

“Don’t strain yourself, John, or you might shit the bed. And I ain’t cleaning that mess… You’ve been in a coma for three weeks,” Y/N tells him with an amused smile. “Oh, and you can’t move because you’re paralyzed from the waist down. I even doubt that meager dick’s still working.”

His nostrils flare and let out a huff. “It’s Homelander, you bitch. No one calls me by that name.”

“Yeah, not anymore.” Y/N twitches her shoulders in mock apology. Her mouth curves into a Machiavellian grin. “Scared yet?”

“Where the fuck am I?” he growls through gritted teeth, upset by her blatant disrespect.

“You’re at a rehab facility for former supes. I mean, it’s discontinued. Abandoned, really. It’s just you and me,” she replies flatly and then forces a customer-service smile to her lips. “So, guess I’ll be your nurse for the day. How are we doing, you–”

Her brow furrows as she tries to remember the exact words, pensively pursing her lips.

“Wait…” She holds up a finger to stop him from interrupting her as she fishes out a crumpled piece of paper from her jeans pocket. She squints her eyes in concentration as she skims over its content.

“Ah yes!” With a smile, she clears her throat and reads from her paper. “So, how are you doing, you bootlicking… carpet-munching… cockboy?”

Homelander frowns at the insults. Y/N does too, but for a different reason as she shakes her head.

“Jesus fucking Christ, your dad’s handwriting is an atrocity,” she mutters as she tilts her head with narrowed eyes at the paper in her hands.

The blond man’s eyes narrow in both shock and confusion. “How do you know my father?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m his wife,” Y/N says and smiles complacently. “Which technically makes me your step-mommy, but let’s not go there, you–… Wait.” She peeks once more at the paper in her hands. “You cumguzzling… cowfucking… cuck fluffer.” Her brow draws up, impressed. “Huh, nice. Little alliteration going on there. Guess all those books paid off…”

“Can we skip to the part where you tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?” Homelander snaps impatiently, annoyed with the shenanigans.

“Alright, your dad sent me here to, you know… gloat,” Y/N says simply and shrugs, flashing him an easy smile. “He wanted you to know that he’s the one that put you into this damn bed. Funnily enough, he once woke up in this very room, tied to a bed. Not in a kinky way, though. Although, he probably would’ve loved that…” She chuckles fondly. “This place really changed him, but I doubt it’ll do the same for you.”

“And why the fuck isn’t he here telling me this, huh?” John asks with a challenging look. “I didn’t reckon him for a fucking coward.”

Y/N’s facade cracks a little at his words, a vicious smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, he was not a coward. He was the bravest man I’ve ever known. He was and is a fucking hero and surely getting celebrated as one.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and grabs the remote from the bedside table, switching on the TV. A news report flickers across the screen. It’s a recording from a few weeks ago, but Homelander doesn’t know that. It shows a row of celebratory parades held all over the country. A statue of Soldier Boy is being erected next to the Statue of Liberty.

Homelander finally defeated. Soldier Boy dies a hero in fierce combat. America breathes a sigh of relief.

Homelander watches the news and reads the taglines as they scroll in front of his eyes. His mouth is agape in bewilderment before Y/N switches the television off again.

“Everyone loves him… and fucking hates you. Like spit-on-your-grave hate,” she summarizes and watches his face darken. She rises from her seat and smiles down at him. “Have a nice life chained to that bed till you rot to death, you dickfaced, inbred, garbage-eating fascist.”

With a wide smirk, she then leans down and whispers into his ear, “Those were my insults, by the way.”

“Well, he’s dead, and I’m fucking alive, which means I won,” Homelander snarls from the bed with a contrivedly triumphant sneer, rattling with his handcuffs. He’s close to an explosion, she can tell.

“Yeah, you’d be telling yourself that if it makes you feel better…”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N turns her back. As she marches out of the room, Homelander’s furious screams of agony haunt the clinic’s empty hallways, but there is no one here to hear them anymore.

Project Bloom has been disbanded. There’s only a handful of CIA nurses left, tasked to take care of Homelander until his hopefully slow and painful death. If someone decides to hold a pillow over his head at any point, she supposes she wouldn’t be that mad about it either.

Homelander is history. Soldier Boy is dead. And Ben is at rest.

Finally, Y/N can leave this godforsaken place behind her.

Y/N slides into the driver’s seat of her Prius, her head falling back as she exhales a long, exhaustive breath and rubs her temples. That damn brat gave her a fucking migraine with his whiny bitching.

“Finally,” it huffs from the backseat. “Took you long enough. How the fuck did it go?”

Y/N blinks into the rearview mirror and catches a set of expectant green eyes. Her hand drops from her temples as she chuckles.

“Your handwriting is horrible,” she says as a response and pulls out the paper, pointing at a word. “What the hell is that one?”

Ben leans forward between the seats and squints his eyes. “Mmh, pube flosser,” he supplies and frowns. “You didn’t use that one?”

Y/N sighs. “I think he’s got the gist without it.”

“Yeah, but that was a good one,” Ben mumbles and sighs disappointedly. “Did you play him the song?”

“Yes, I did. I played him the song and did everything else you wanted me to do,” she confirms patiently. “You know, you’ve got a weird knack for torture.”

“Thank you. It’s a gift.” Ben blushes and adjusts his baseball cap. “Did you sell it properly? You know, acting is a skill. The most important thing is to–”

“Ben! For the love of God, shut up or I’ll run you over with my car,” Y/N snaps. If he gives her one more acting lesson, she swears she’ll turn herself a widow.

“Fine.” Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes back. “Did he fucking buy it?”

“Yup, he surely thinks you’re dead. Like the rest of the world,” Y/N says and shoots him a smile over her shoulder.

He matches it and scratches his shaved chin, letting himself fall back into the seat. “Good. So, we’re done, right?”

“Yeah, he was the last stop on our list,” she replies quietly, her smile mixing with sadness. “How’s the arm?”

“Good, good…” He nods, his head bobbing thoughtfully as he clutches the scar on his right bicep. “Healing nicely. Finally got a real war wound. Always wanted one.”

“Okay, then… Let’s go, I guess.” With a heavy swallow, Y/N turns the ignition and starts the car.

“You know, I’d really love to kiss you now,” Ben notes, heartache swinging in his voice, and finds her eyes in the rearview mirror.

Y/N bites down on her lip and nods. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice…”

Three weeks ago…

A guard gestures down the hallway to the restrooms, but as soon as Y/N rounds the corner and is out of sight, she takes a turn in the opposite direction.

The good thing about a super secret government facility that’s not supposed to exist is that it only comes with the necessary manpower. There’s no abundance of guards at every corner. It’s quiet and desolate.

Moreover, no one expects a silly and weak human to cause any trouble. It surely has its advantages to be constantly underestimated.

Y/N finds the lab she’s passed on their way in, where she spied a glass fridge with vials of different colors. It’s guarded, but only by one person. It’s sloppy, honestly.

A flirty ambush, a stab to the neck with a dull pocket knife, a stolen keycard, and she’s inside. She drags the body in, too, leaving no trace of her crime behind.

Her fingers rummage through differently labeled flasks. There’s plenty of blue and yellow, but not the poisonous green she’s looking for.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” she mutters to herself as she desperately searches every drawer, every goddamn cabinet of the laboratory.

Out of breath, she stops and grips her temples, shoulders slumping as her mind spins. She wants to curse and scream, but that would draw too much attention. She knows she’s running out of time. No one takes that long to fucking pee. Decisions have to be made quickly.

She grabs a blue vial.

Rolling down her sleeves, she walks nervously back into the control room. Neither Mallory nor Edgar pays her any mind. Everyone’s eyes are glued to Soldier Boy and Homelander. Father and son. It’s biblical.

It’s as if she isn’t even there.

Her veins twitch, her blood boils. It’s tingling in her fingertips.

“Little help would be fucking appreciated!” Ben yells as he wrangles with a defunct Homelander.

Stan Edgar’s smile. So vicious. So cold. So calculating.

She knows the air in the room is about to shift. Her hands ball into fists by her side, gather their energy.

He gives his command. She screams.

“No! That wasn’t the fucking deal!”

Edgar doesn’t even look at her fully. A sideways glance is all she’s worth. “Take her out, too.”

Mallory sees it first, her eyes widening when she realizes what’s going on. It’s too late to warn anyone, however, her cries for help unheard as the acid rots her throat.

Edgar and two guards are next, metal weapons melt and mix with a puddle of human soup on the ground. Then, she goes after the one that got away.

The third guard hurries inside the prison cell, but Y/N slips through the crack of the door before it slams shut. The first gunshot goes clean through Homelander’s spine, but the second is deterred and only strikes Ben’s arm as the guard bubbles to a pond, a hot spring in the concrete.

Ben clutches his bleeding wound with a hiss before his green eyes lock with hers. They widen, and it takes him a moment to make sense of it all.

“Y/N, what–”

He takes a step forward. She takes a step back.

“Don’t come near me,” she orders him with panic blinking in her eyes like a flashing alarm. Her chest rises and falls with every anxious breath.

He holds his palms up high, surrendering. “It’s okay.”

Ben carefully walks around her and steps over the bubbling human puddle on the floor. He peeks outside the door, purses his lips, and nods in impressed satisfaction.

“Those little blobs outside–”

Y/N bobs her head at his unfinished question. “Mallory and Edgar plus two guards,” she replies.

“Nice job.” He whistles lowly and shoots her a devilish grin, taking a step closer. “Gotta say, I’ve never been more turned on by you. I’m getting fucking hard.”

“Ben!” Y/N scolds and backs away from him until she’s pressed against the wall. “I told you, don’t touch me,” she warns him again.

Ben’s smile fades as he recognizes her fear. His features soften, the jokes disappear. “Hey, it’s alright. Twenty-four hours and you’ll be fine again. Just gotta get through it.”

Y/N shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. Ben’s brow knits in confusion, his face stern.

“What-… Why are you shaking your head?”

A tear escapes and streaks her cheek. “It won’t go away in twenty-four hours,” she chokes out. “They were out of Temp V.”

Ben’s face drops at the realization. “No, no, no… Tell me you didn’t fucking do this!” he yells.

“They were going to kill you! What was I supposed to do?” Y/N explains tearfully.

“Die, Y/N! You were supposed to let me fucking die!” Ben’s jaw tightens as anger surges through his body.

“I didn’t let you die the first time! What made you think I would let you fucking die right now, huh?” Y/N cries through gritted teeth, her hands balling into fists. “Stop trying to kill yourself. You fucking promised me!”

Licking his lips, Ben swallows. He’s quiet, running a palm over his face while his mind races a mile a minute. “Okay… alright,” he says finally, his voice significantly calmer now. “Where did you get the Compound V from?”

“There’s a lab here,” she replies in the same calm manner.

“They got more?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Ben nods and finds her eyes. “Show me.”

Y/N presses her lips into a thin line, shaking her head once more. “No.”

His anger returns, nostrils flaring as his brow creases. “What d’you mean no?”

She swallows thickly. “Look, if you really wanna do this, then I won’t stop you,” she says, a pleading glimmer haunting her eyes. “But you finally got a chance. You can live the normal, boring life. You can go on road trips, see Mount Rushmore… I know you want to.”

Ben swipes his tongue over his teeth and averts his gaze. He pinches the bridge of his freckled nose, and Y/N can see that she’s right.

“I’m not even sure if I want powers,” she continues after a pause. “But at least this time it was my choice. And I don’t regret it if it means I got to save you, okay?”

When Ben finally looks at her, it breaks her heart. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Y/N gives him a sad smile. “I know… And you won’t be. I promise.”

Their attention is then temporarily drawn to a groan on the ground. Y/N’s brow furrows as she looks at Homelander’s body and notices his fingers twitching.

“Is he still alive?”

“Looks like it,” Ben replies. But as Y/N gets ready to take care of the problem, he stops her, holding out his flat palm. “Wait, wait, wait… Judging by the wound, he’s gonna be a fucking vegetable. It’s a waste of a kill.” He then grins mischievously at her. “I’ve got a better fucking idea. The other question is: how the fuck do we get outta this place… alive?”

Y/N’s mouth opens, but she doesn’t have an answer aside from a helpless shrug for him. This is as far as she has planned. Actually, she hasn’t planned any of this at all.

“I might be able to help with that,” a woman’s voice sounds behind her.

Y/N’s eyes widen as she recognizes the newcomer, her mouth parting anew in both surprise and shock. Ben, on the other hand, furrows his brow and glares at the stranger as if she had just spoken Russian.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ben prompts and then leans closer to Y/N, whispering in her ear, “Kill her.”

Y/N frowns, but her eyes are glued to the young woman in front of her, the familiarity sinking in. “I can’t,” she grits through her teeth.

“Why the fuck not?” Ben asks now loud enough for everyone to hear, including their guest.

“Because I’m the president,” the woman replies, smiling complacently. “And an old friend.”

Ben’s brow creases even more. “President of what? Cunt-town?”

“The United States, Ben,” Y/N tells him flatly. If she could kick his leg right now, she would. Leave it to her husband to get them both killed.

“Wait, a skirt is president?” Ben arches an eyebrow and mutters, “No wonder this country’s going to shit…”

“Charming,” Victoria Neuman says with a small sigh, but seemingly unbothered by the old-school views. Much like Y/N, she ignores the comment and doesn’t take offense to it. “I can see why you married him,” she adds wryly, looking at Y/N.

“Technically, she wasn’t elected. She was Vice President till President Singer died… accidentally,” Y/N explains, knowing Ben only reads the paper for the sports section and the comic strip. She swallows the thick lump in her throat, her heart thrashing wildly in her chest.

“Ah, I know what that’s code for.” Ben smirks coolly. “Bold move. I can fucking respect that.”

“Yeah, God knows some old fuck’s approval is what I’m looking for,” Neuman taunts, the sarcasm dripping from her red-painted lips.

Ben’s face drops as a bit of anger bubbles up inside of him. That bitch is lucky he’s V-free. He forces a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just saying I would’ve done the same thing, okay?”

“No offense, but you’re too much of a moron for that,” Neuman replies dryly.

Ben’s nostrils flare as he grits, “Offense fucking taken.”

“Okay!” Y/N tries to cut the tension with a nervous chuckle, pushing herself between Neuman and Ben. “How about you just tell us what we have to do to get out of this one?”

“See? She’s smart,” Neuman says and smirks at Ben. “I’ve always liked you, Y/N. You know, when Stan and Grace told me their plan of getting you two involved, I warned them. But they just wouldn’t listen. Everyone always underestimates the orphan. I should know, and so do you. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Yeah, guess we’re MVP, after all, Nadia,” Y/N says and makes it a point to emphasize her real name.

Victoria just smiles in response. “So, since you took care of two problems for me, one in here and one out there, I have a proposal for you.”

“What is it?” Y/N knows she’s really out of choices. Either she agrees, or Ben and her will spend the afterlife together.

“I need a new Chief of Staff. I want you to do it. You’re smart, driven, and I know you wanna change shit around here. You wanna make a difference? This is your chance,” Neuman proposes. “You can’t take the cure again. It’s going to kill you. Trust me, we’ve done studies, and the results are not pretty.”

Y/N thinks for a few breaths. “What about Ben?”

“I guess he can live. It’s not like he’s a threat to anyone,” Neuman says and almost sounds bored. “Hell, for all I care, we can even make Soldier Boy a reformed hero for dealing with Homelander. He dies heroically in battle and quietly lives out his retirement in fucking Florida or some shit. We get him a big fucking statue. It’s good publicity.”

Y/N shares a look with Ben. “What d’you think?”

Thoughtfully, Ben clicks his tongue. He supposes it’s the best deal they can get, and declining it would probably get them nowhere, although he hates everything about it.

Swallowing, the former supe nods. “Alright, let’s fucking do this,” he agrees and states his conditions, “But for the record, I’m not moving to shit-ass Florida. I want a nice lake house in Minnesota.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. Minnesota it is.”

“You okay? You ready?” Y/N checks as Ben has made it up the stone steps and halts in front of the big, red door.

“I don’t know. You really think this is a good idea? I’m not sure I can do this,” Ben says and insecurely eyes the entrance.

“You’ll do great, alright?” Y/N smiles encouragingly. “I believe in you.”

“I don’t wanna do this alone. What if I fuck up?” Ben asks.

Amused, Y/N chuckles. “Oh, you’re for sure gonna fuck up.”

The green-eyed man scowls. “That’s fucking reassuring. Thanks.”

“Look, this way you won’t be alone. I’ll wire you money every month and check in as much as I can, alright? You can always call me. This isn’t the end,” Y/N soothes his worries. “Maybe one day there’s a cure that’ll work, and we can be together again for real.”

She forces a weak smile to her lips, although she doesn’t believe her own words. But as long as Ben believes them, it’s enough.

“Okay.” Ben nods and takes a deep breath – in through his nose and out through his mouth. “I think I’m ready now.”

“Good.” Y/N sends him a smile. “You thought of a new name yet?”

“I’m still marinating on it,” Ben grumbles.

“Well, marinate faster. I have to introduce you.”

As they enter the orphanage, Y/N checks them in at the reception and fills out all necessary forms. Ben taps his foot nervously and scratches the back of his neck as they wait before one of Y/N’s former colleagues walks in with a little boy in hand, who’s no older than five.

Ben tries to smile but isn’t sure if it looks creepy, so he stops and opts for a more neutral expression. Y/N, however, immediately kneels down to the young boy and smiles brightly at him. It causes Ben’s heart to ache. She deserved to have all of this, but instead, she gave it all up for him.

“Hey, Benny,” she greets the boy. “You ready to meet your new adoptive parent?”

The boy scrunches his brow in careful suspicion as he eyes his future father-to-be. “I guess so,” he says. “Is that him? He looks like he drives a fucking minivan and offers candy to kids. Are you sure he’s not a pedo, Ms. Y/N?”

Ben purses his lips, biting the insides of his cheeks. The initial smile was definitely a mistake. They’re not off to a good start.

Y/N presses her lips together to muffle her snort. “Yes, Benny, I’m sure,” she replies patiently. “He’s cool, trust me.”

“Fine, whatever.” The kid rolls his eyes. “As long as he’s not fucking vegan like Ms. Teresa. They’re the worst.”

“Ugh, agreed! Do I look like a fucking plant-shitter to you?” Ben asks the boy rhetorically.

“No, you look like a fucking pedo to me,” the boy retorts.

Ben grins broadly at Y/N. “I like the kid. I think I get what you mean now. I see the resemblance.”

“Well, great. Glad you two are hitting it off… I think,” Y/N says with a crinkled brow, although a part of her is doubting her idea. Honestly, it’s wild she’s trusting him with a child. A year ago she would’ve thought that it was insane. “Alright, uh, Benny, this is, uhm–”

“Sam,” Ben proudly introduces himself with his fake name and shakes the kid’s hand. He then notices Y/N’s strange look. “What?”

“Nothing, just… you don’t really strike me as a Sam. That’s all,” she tells him in a whisper-tone, shrugging.

“Oh, really? Well, I don’t give a fuck. I love it,” Ben quips, grinning rather smugly.

“Fine.” Y/N sighs. She turns back to little Ben with a smile. “You guys ready to hit the road?”

“Where are we going?” Benny asks curiously and promptly takes Ben’s hand, dragging the older man through the doors. He’s been waiting to get out of the orphanage for a while, the excitement of finally being able to leave visible in every step he takes.

It’s a fresh start for both of them.

“Uh, Mount Rushmore,” Ben answers.

“Cool! Can we get burgers on the way there? I’m starving.”

“Sure can, kid.”

Y/N can see Ben’s initial hesitance until he eventually accepts it and eases into the situation, holding the boy’s hand tightly. He helps the kid into the car, even puts the seatbelt on, and shuts the door behind him.

Her heart twinges as she watches the two, wishing she could go with them if things were different. However, she knows the risk is too big. She would never forgive herself if she hurt either of them. She doesn’t trust herself enough yet. Maybe someday she can.

“You okay?” Ben asks as he sees the unshed tears brimming in her eyes. He’d dreaded this day for the past few weeks, hoping she’d still change her mind. He hates that this is goodbye, but he supposes he has to set her free now.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Y/N says with a forced smile, but a tear escapes and rolls down her cheek.

“C’mere.”

Y/N protests as Ben slings his arms around her and pulls her flush against him, holding her tightly. He hasn’t touched her since that night, but he doesn’t care anymore. He presses his lips against hers and tastes her one last time.

Breathlessly, Y/N withdraws and sniffles. “Are you fucking insane? I could kill you.”

Ben simply smiles at her. “Hey, if I die kissing you, then that’s a fucking great way to go out. ‘Sides, insanity is contagious,” he quips and sends her a wink. “Thank you… for everything, you know?”

“You’re welcome,” she says quietly and swallows harshly as the tears fall freely now. Not every film has a happy ending. “I guess I’ve done my job as your sponsor. You’ve been successfully rehabilitated.”

Ben snorts. “If by that you mean I’m fucking boring and responsible now then yeah, you’ve done your job.”

“You won’t be bored for long. The kid’s already trying to hotwire the car,” Y/N tells him, laughing.

“Wha–” Ben spins around and points a warning finger at the boy. “Ay! Hands in your fucking lap!”

The kid raises his palms in surrender and yells, “Hurry the fuck up!”

With a shaking head, Ben turns back to her. “Gotta watch that kid like an eagle,” he mutters. He exhales a dreaded breath and licks his lips. “So, I guess this is goodbye, huh?”

Y/N smiles softly, the corners of her mouth reaching her dimples. “Maybe.”

Little Ben gets me every time 😂 Alright, now you may yell and complain, but I love this bittersweet ending 🥲 (But of course, you're welcome to send in requests. Whether it's deleted scenes, bonus shots of a potential future, or some fun Big Ben/Little Ben drabbles)

Thank you so much for reading, for your gifs and comments! It's so appreciated! Without them, this would only be half the fun 🤍

I'll announce future plans soon. The final five of Plastic Hearts will probably be next up. Get ready 'cause it's another wild one! 🌟

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Series Tags: @nancymcl @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @sparkydonugh

[steddieas-shegoes]

stay for a while

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is being late to work' and for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up event for Valentine's Day

rated e | 815 words | tags: post-sex afterglow, dirty talk, established relationship, domestic fluff

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"You gotta go faster," Steve panted.

"I'm not the one riding me, sweetheart," Eddie replied, equally out of breath.

"Put your back into it."

So Eddie gripped Steve's hips and put his back into it.

When Steve collapsed on top of him, Eddie's cum coating both of their stomachs, they both sighed.

This was the first time they'd managed to have sex in nearly a week. Their schedules were awful lately, and any time they did manage to spend together was usually asleep.

But Steve managed to wake up before his alarm this morning and Eddie was already naked and hard and one thing led to another...

"I'm gonna be late if I don't get up and shower," Steve sighed.

He loved his job as a guidance counselor, but the early mornings sucked. Especially when Eddie didn't have to be at work most days until nine.

Maybe he could call in sick or something today.

"I could join you..." Eddie's teeth nipped his neck teasingly. "Work you up while you wash your hair. Suck you off until you can't feel your legs. Maybe fill you up again and lick you clean."

If Steve's cock wasn't trapped between them, it probably would have given a valiant effort at getting hard again.

"Babyyyyy."

"What?" Eddie kissed his jaw. "I just wanna make up for all the time we've missed this week."

"I know," Steve sat up and looked down at Eddie's sweat-slick chest. "It'll be better next week. I won't be on afternoon pick-up duty and won't have senior meetings to go to."

"And I won't be stuck at the studio with this fuckin' singer who thinks I don't have a life outside of him and his lackluster songwriting skills."

Steve smirked. "Tell me how you really feel."

"I would, but I wouldn't wanna ruin the afterglow, Stevie. You look fuckable."

"I look fucked. There's a difference," Steve leaned down to kiss his forehead.

"Not to me," Eddie pouted. "I could fuck you again. Real quick. Won't even know I'm there."

Steve snorted. "Why are you so horny this morning, Jesus Christ."

"Don't blame him. I just always want you. You're like a potato chip: one is never enough."

"Wow. What a line. I'm melting into a puddle," Steve's monotone voice was interrupted by Eddie's loud laugh. "I'm gonna go shower before you try something."

"But...we still have 30 minutes before you have to go."

Steve glanced at the clock, jumping up and yelping when he realized Eddie hadn't even pulled out all the way yet. "Shit!"

"What?"

"I have a senior meeting this morning! I have less than ten minutes!"

Steve tripped getting out of the bed, his legs still wobbly from riding Eddie for the last 15 minutes.

"Reschedule it!" Eddie yelled after him as Steve ran into the bathroom and started the shower. "Call in sick."

"Not happening! It's Hannah; She's freaking out about college applications as if she won't get in everywhere she applies and if I cancel, she'll spiral," Eddie made his way into the shower as Steve spoke, nodding along to his words, but focused mostly on the way the water was dripping down his body as he rushed to wash his hair. "And then I have a faculty meeting with the rest of the counselors to discuss how we'll implement the new afterschool senior study group because the school board said we can't legally call it a study group unless it's 100% sanctioned by the students, which is just incredibly stupid and also not even remotely important! Like, we're just trying to make sure they can pass their finals, why does it matter what we call it?"

Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve's lips softly, just enough of a brush against them to make him pause.

"Sorry," Steve sighed. "Didn't mean to ramble."

"You know I love when you do, Stevie," Eddie smiled at him, grabbing the shampoo bottle from the shelf to get started on his own hair. "I just hate seeing you so stressed. Kinda wanna help relieve that stress some more."

"Baby, I love you, but if you touch my dick right now, I will murder you."

"Ouch," Eddie clutched his hand to his chest. "Straight to murder over a little handjob in the shower?"

"If that's what has to be done for me to get to work on time."

Eddie sighed. "Fine. I won't touch you. But I'm gonna be sad all day about the lost moments we could've shared."

Steve finished rinsing off the soap on his body and turned to give Eddie a quick peck on the lips. "We can share some moments tonight. Promise."

"Okay, okay. Get out before you're late."

Steve was still late for work, but mostly because he still insisted on packing Eddie's lunch while he was in the shower finishing up. No job was more important than that.

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch - LiTA (Rain/Payu) 2

Because I'm petty, I had the crowd pick which blacklisted shows I would watch for the month of Pride. The first is Love in The Air, and even though I was mad in the first few episodes that Sky brushed off his friend running away from Payu at the beginning, Sky has proven he is a great friend, and I am very excited to get to his portion. Sorry, Rain. This Daddy x Baby dynamic needs to speed it up!

Let's wrap this stormy weather up!

If I was the receptionist, I'd love this job for the chisme. If I was a mechanic, I'd be pissed!

So all of this was a another test. Rain is proving himself to Payu as being worthy of his time and affection by ignoring Payu being mean to him, so even though there is definitely something happening with the yellow and blue between them, I'm ignoring it because Payu is HIGH-KEY pissing me all the way off, and I'm too focused on this room situation. Does this man have his garage room and actual house room?! What is this?!

LET ME IGNORE THEM, BABY JESUS!

Black x White. Blinding Light of Love. And just like that, I'm on my fellow Slut for Christ's side because WHY IS RAIN JUST STANDING OUT IN THE RAIN LIKE A DUMMY?! Miracles happen when we least expect them.

I am not feeling this bathing scene because there is not enough water in that huge ass tub, and out of all the things Payu should apologize for, he is saying sorry that Rain stood out in the rain. Can they just have sex already, so I can quit being petty?

God damn it! There is pink = 💕love💕 but I am very familiar with this scene because it was all over my dash when it aired, and I'm a bag of mixed emotions. Payu hid that condom under a toy truck, but opened it with his teeth, yet he kissed Rain's leg, so like . . . shit, Payu looks fine with his hair down.

The beginning of episode five is just horny on main from Rain telling his MOTHER that he was working on something else that was hard all night, and now we're just watching Payu work out before he peaces out in Payu's blue shirt only to end up in this! I refuse to acknowledge the colors because how did Payu find this boy AND WHY ARE THEY SCREWING AROUND IN HIS MAMA'S HOUSE?!

😬😬😬

Payu already claimed Rain to his face, followed him to his mama's house, and has gotten ultra possessive, yet Rain is freaking out thinking Payu is trying to ditch him. Rain is too smart to be this dumb.

A WHOLE ASS GIRL IS IN THIS SHOW! And Rain is just insulting her and her brothers after pining after her - "fruits" - really, Cloud Jizz?

The way I'm mad at these colors is the same way I'm mad at Rain for being upset that other people like his boyfriend. These two were made for each other.

STOP IT!

Number one rule of illegal race club is we don't talk about illegal race club.

I'm ignoring the wife talk the same way I'm ignoring the colors and the singing. I am God's strongest solider.

This legit should be the end of their arc and the fact that it is not just so Rain can get kidnapped is irritating me (yes, I know he gets kidnapped because my dash said so when it was airing).

Oh, look, a sweet flashback telling me they were meant for each other right before RAIN GETS KIDNAPPED!

These colors are on my fucking neck!

*eyes popping out of my head because the colors won't let me be* Yeah, yeah, yeah. He's gonna rip that suit off of you later and fuck you on the stairs of death then ride you. Yeah, we've all heard about it, now can we get to the kidnapping plot?

The colors are coloring on these two kinksters with Payu's "I like the sound, but not to ride" line like we don't all know what that means. So glad they found each other, but WHERE IS THE KIDNAPPING?! Does it not happen in this episode?! I thought there were only six episodes in each arc. Am I watching seven of just Rain ask the same damn questions of if they like each other?! Sonsito!

The colors are coloring so hard with Rain in his white tank and pink boxers (that he wore the first time they had sex) drinking white milk and Payu in his black shirt with his black tea cup and blue jacket hanging out on the chair. I HATE IT!

THE KIDNAPPING! The title card was "Sky After Rain" so let's move this along and give me my boy already! But also, if Rain was a rich bitch, this would've never happened! A delivery man asking for help? Um . . . better go find a buddy because rich bitches don't do manual labor. Finally, I appreciate that Payu's wild ass behavior of demanding Rain answer his calls paid off by him knowing something was up when Rain didn't answer. Now can we murder this bastard already for taking this awful picture?!

A comedian said that people only kneel for two reasons: God and dick, so this man is a dick who is about to meet God because he just said that he would have his men sexually assault Rain?! DRACARYS!

I have never been more excited to see the Bed Friend baddie! Not only because he is about to end this man's life, but also because he interrupted these two love birds making googly eyes at each other in the middle of a crime scene! And now Rain just said Payu was the only one who could screw him. WHY ARE THEY LIKE THIS?!

Rain is clearly a words-over-actions guy, but at this point it is OBVIOUS that Payu loves him, so I would tell him I don't love him just to be mean.

And now Rain is telling Payu he would harm him if he cheats. WITH WHOM?! The damn mechanic who has to keep running interference between you two AT HIS JOB?! Y'all are such a mess and fully belong together.

Oh thank goodness, it's my sweet summer child Sky finally!

And his red devil because Prapai has to be the red to his bestie's blue, no?

See, Rain is triflin' because Sky did not snitch on him dating Payu, yet Rain gave up his number quick. This is why I ignored their colors because Rain knows this is wrong, but at least it FINALLY gets me more Sky on my screen. The End!

HE FUCKED UP HIS CAR ON PURPOSE?! WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK, PAYU?! YOU HAD THIS BOY INDEBTED TO YOU FOR WHAT?! BECAUSE HE WAS PRETTY AND YOU WANTED HIM?! WHAT WERE THE REASONS, PAYU?! WHAT?! WERE?! THE?! REASONS?!

*takes off my glasses* These after scenes got me all the way fucked up, and even though I was fine with how they ended in the car this episode, now I'm mad as hell that Payu just offered up this fun little tidbit that he jacked up Rain's car so he could see him again at the very end.

🤡

Pushes play on episode eight

[boredzillenial]

F.A.F.O.

You find out the hard way that you are not safe hiding behind a screen, not from these three.

Themes: Afab!reader, teasing/sexting shenanigans, oh no if it isn’t the consiquences of my own actions

A.N.: this is just somethin’ short and sweet in a new style for me. Hope y’all enjoy!

Hiya! It’s Steven. 🥰 Hope the bus ride from our flat to your work wasn’t too bad. How was your day?

Hi sweetheart, today was really challenging. I couldn’t focus for the life of me…

Aww why not 🥺

Was too distracted thinking about you…

Me? I’m sorry love ❤️ did I do something wrong?

It’s more like you did something a little too right last night 😘

Oh… Yeah? ☺️ Was nervous to try that but you were amazing.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day today, even now… 💦

You’re… right now? 😳

You’ve got me so wet. I don’t know if I can wait till this weekend to see you… I think I may have to take care of this myself when I get home 😉

What?! Wait I’m off today I can help! Can i come over? 🥺

No Steven, I don’t think I’ll be able to focus the rest of the week if I see you again tonight. Just need to knock this out.

Knock it out? Love I can make you feel so good please 😣

Do you remember where you put my vibrator? I haven’t seen it since the last time you three were over here.

Darling please let me come over. I promise we can be quick 😩

No no no, naughty boy. You’d beg me to stay, and I just can’t tell any of you no when you’re here.

Please I need to see you 😣 I need to… I need to feel you.

You gotta wait till tomorrow. Here this will tide you over. 😉

Image sent.

Oh love….

Please let me come over 😭

Is that not enough? I think this one should be better 😘

Image sent.

Love I can’t

Can’t what baby 😉

You think you’re funny?

I don’t know what you’re talking about Steven 😘

Try again

..

Marc?

..

Strike 2

Jake…

Bingo 😈

Jake - Steven and I were just joking around!

Image received

Does this look like a joke? 🍆

Jesus Christ… Are you gonna handle that for Steven?

No, you are.

Jake you’re all the way across town. I’ve got work in the morning.

You have 30 minutes to call out of work for tomorrow and be ready for us.

Us?

You’ve gotta deal with me.

Marc says he wants a word with you too. 😉

Then you can make it up to Steven.

Jake do NOT come over here!

..

Jake seriously I can’t have you over right now I’ve gotta work tomorrow!

And I’m serious. You’ve got a few minutes you better call your boss now amor.

Jake! I’m doing laundry and catching up on chores tonight you gotta stay home.

..

Jake I’m serious!

Call denied

Just talk to me Jake, don’t come over

..

Unlock the door for me sweetheart, I’m here

Oh you must think I’m crazy

Image received

IS THAT MY VIBRATOR?! 😠

Open the door and find out 😘

———————

MoonKnight Bingo Masterlist

Taglist: @moonknight-events @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @romana-after-dark

[celestialhole]

Simon Riley x GN!reader headcanons

Warnings: Contains NSFW content below the cut, read at your own risk! Sorta proofread, random as fuck but here's your din din. Thinking about Simon Riley who uses his kids as weights for him to lift while working out. Just for fun. He likes hearing his kids laugh and giggle. Simon Riley who gets hella annoyed when your family/extended family buys so much crap for the kids. "The bloody hell they need this for? Don't we already have the damn pool outside!?" Simon looked down at the huge box in their living room, it was a goddamn bouncy house for the little ones. "I dunno Si. We can put it in the frontyar-" "WE ALREADY HAVE THE BALL PIT OUTSIDE!"

Never really celebrated his birthday before meeting you. You started giving him presents, taking him out, and taking him back to hotels (or your home) to ride him til' dawn. Now that you have little ones you all plan a small birthday party for him since he's old and grumpy. You give him one of his favorite desserts, have all the kids pile on him, and show him some love it resulted in him counting to 5 before chasing them all down while you record all of it.

Will fantasize about what life could've been like if his family were still here with him, what it could've been like if they had lived long enough to meet you. He's sure his Mother and Nephew would've loved you, and his brother would tease him n' say something like, "Now you know how it feels, it ain't as bad as you thought huh?" He wished to God he'd get to experience that in another lifetime. In my world, he doesn't celebrate Christmas and we know damn well why. If he's been with you for a long time he'll find a way to make something for you to make it special or he'll buy you something you mentioned wanting a few weeks or months back. But don't expect him to place a big ass tree in his apartment. If you manage to convince him to buy a tree he'll buy it and maybe a few ornaments he likes but the rest you're buying. Riley totally tore that bitch up and trust me, he tried to stop her but it was too early in the morning for that and he didn't want the tree anyways so he just sighs, puts some tea on the kettle grabs his reading glasses and his favorite book, and just relaxes on the couch as his military dog is tearing up your 350$ Christmas tree. "Jesus fucking Christ what happened in here!?" You stumbled over an ornament as you walked into the living room. Simon was chilling peacefully on the couch as Riley held a broken branch in her mouth and they both looked as if there wasn't a shit tone of ornaments and small pieces of the tree everywhere. It looked like a cluster fuck in your living room. "Tree became a chew toy," Simon mumbled. "I can see that.. And you didn't stop her?!" You narrowed your eyes at him. "Tried to, then it fell and I gave up," Simon took a sip of his tea and turned a page of the book he was reading. "Oh for fucks sake Simon.." You rubbed your eyes and leaned against the wall. He glanced up at you from the couch with an amused smile and looked back down at his book. "...This is what happens when we don't listen to Simon says-" "I'm kicking you and Riley out." You cut him off.

I see this man with an uncut shave because he's too lazy for that shit, however, if he notices he has a whole ass fucking jungle down there he'll trim it and then leave it alone for another 5 months. A solid 7 inches when soft and hard. Girth? Lots of it. Saggy balls. The type of man who doesn't notice when you get something done (hair, nails, etc). When you ask him if he notices anything different he'll immediately look at your ass to see if those squats did you any good. Speaking of your ass he loves your ass. Flat or thick he's smacking it when he casually walks past you. If you're plus-sized or just thicc it's even better. Don't ever bend over with this man in your perimeter. And it's even worse when you're in front of him and walking up the stairs cause he's staring hard at it. When you bend over he's smacking it, groping it, caressing it, and if he's really bold he's sneaking a quick hump against it. It's all shits and giggles till he's in that position. And you never hold back either. Now he doesn't trust walking up the stairs in front of you because you won't stop poking his ass and he hates it he loves you anyways. Call him daddy and he's not gonna speak or look at you for the rest of the day. You've made him spiritually nauseous good job. HE'S A BODY MAN BUT IN MY WORLD HE'S A THIGH AND TUMMY MAN! Also, I can see him being obsessed with ya nipple piercings if you ever got them. But nipple piercings are one thing, a genital piercing IS ANOTHER THING. Mutual masturbation is a must on the weekend mornings. He'll wake you up with pepper kisses to your neck while his hand is rubbing your tummy, when you wake up he'll gradually run his hands over your chest and pinch your nipple before moving his hand down to caress your arousal. He sucks the skin on your shoulder and neck to pleasure you and when you turn over to stroke his already hardened cock, he groans and moves his hips to slowly thrust his cock along your hand while his fingers slowly speed up. Now imagine his groans + his morning voice. This man loves you with every fiber of his being and tries his very best to make sure you know he loves you no matter what, so don't even think about asking him if he'll still love you as a worm. He'll keep you safely tucked in the pocket of his shirt and feed you noodles. He doesn't give two shits if you're hairy, plus-sized, or "unattractive". He'll cross the Amazon or even Antarctica to eat your ass I'm just saying. Don't protest or even speak, just bend over and let him have fun with his beautiful partner.

[rustfoxes]

Disjointed DAtVG feelings/opinions

I've played the game for a bit, I'm not too far in yet, and honestly? I hope it gets better. Spoilers & venting below as you might guess.

Everything seems to be tell, don't show. There's very, VERY little trust in the player. Characters happen upon a ruined village? "The village is ruined! There's no one here!" Yes, we can see that. Character looks upset? Text pops up on screen to tell you that IN FACT!! Character is upset. Couldn't have guessed.

Everything is explained out loud immediately, except the arguably actually important things. If I remember correctly, there's no mention of the 10 year (?) timeskip from DAI, everyone just now knows everything about elven magic and the Fade and the Veil EXCEPT FOR THE PLAYER. None of that is explained! New players are expected to just know, which in some games works, but when you throw characters into a magical forest and say it's Arlathan forest, how tf are they supposed to know what Arlathan is.

Why is Varric a brunette all of a sudden

Characterisation of returning characters is fucking wild. Fun, jokey Harding? Massive chip on her shoulder and real aggressive for some reason. Soft-spoken and measured Solas? Yelling, again, for some damn reason. Where is his iambic pentameter? And he hates blood magic all of a sudden?? Did the writers play the earlier games at all? Solas SPECIFICALLY says in DAI that blood magic has no morality to it and is merely a tool.

The game is linear to the extent that I cannot for the life of me see the point of the game asking you to wrap up unfinished business before moving forward. What unfinished business? You've locked us into a small room with 0 exits and 1 chest. There is no business.

So far there's been zero time for any of the story to breathe. There are no story beats, because the drum machine that is the pacing just keeps hammering on. The gravity of the situation has no time to set in for anyone. THE ACTUAL GODS OF MYTH HAVE BEEN BUST OUT OF GOD-JAIL. THIS IS A HUGE FUCKING PROBLEM. "Yeah, well, people would've died if Solas hadn't been stopped from tearing down the Veil." And this is preferable???? What the actual fuck. DAI Solas wanted to rebuild and to safe-guard his people. TWO of the people he wanted to PROTECT EVERYONE FROM are now out. But oh man, that Solas, he would've hurt folks. You think the wondertwins won't? Jesus fucking Christ.

The gameplay more or less just completely scraps character classes. Playing a mage rn and for some damn reason she has separate ranged attacks. What the actual fuck. What is the point of making people choose a class if a damn mage has to stand next to enemies to attack?

So far doesn't feel like an RPG at all. Starts in media res which is fine, but your character is already established as a cool hero and an important figure. Why? Why weren't we along for that ride?

Character movement is janky af, DAI was much smoother 10 damn years ago. Hopefully they'll somehow manage to fix it.

Either they needed better actors or a much better voice director, because holy shit is the dialogue awkward and halting and just... no.

Writers have clearly had shoes far too large to fill. Dialogue wants to be funny and witty and clever. It is not. Specially not with the phoned in voice acting.

Where have my Welsh/Irish elves gone? Wtf happened there? Also why wasn't there anyone around to tell the actors how to pronounce the elvhen words??

Why the fuck is the rogue our healer.

All quests so far have been walking from A to B, collecting some coins along the path, and then fighting 5 or 10 enemies. No variation at all.

Idk man, I really hope the game will find its legs as it goes on, but so far? Massively underwhelming and honestly quite disappointing. Absolutely does not feel like DA. People critisised DA2 for being rushed and DAI for a whole host of shit, but at least I felt like I was playing a Dragon Age game.

[ameliora-j]

heyy, can you please write some smut about older!eddie munson?💗💗

content: older!eddie brother's best friend!eddie, age gap (reader is of age!), oral (m!receiving), road head, infidelity kink, praise kink, like one degrading phrase, smut, this post is 18+ minors DNI

you furrow your brows, approaching the dirty van that belonged to your brother's friend. "hey doll" eddie smiles softly "your brother sent me to get you because he's hung up at work" he explains.

you nod softly, getting into the car. you liked eddie, he was nice enough. but he was more mysterious than he was anything else. to you, at least. eddie was over often. but you only saw him in passing-- when you were coming in from a late study session and he was watching the game with your brother, or in the mornings when you were leaving for class and he was giving your brother a ride to work.

he always said hi and told you to have a good day or night but you never talked much more than that. he was pretty quiet, but kind of cute. you never had much time to think about that, though. "thanks, eddie" you murmur softly as you pull your seatbelt on.

"course, little one" he smiles. "what were you gettin up to this late?" he smirks teasingly, causing you to giggle.

"i was studying with some friends. my boyfriend got mad cus i didn't tell him that there was a guy in my study group so he picked a fight and told me to ask the guy to take me home" you roll your eyes, scoffing as you explain the story.

your boyfriend was about as jealous and controlling as they came. you hadn't told him there was a guy in your study group because you knew that he'd tell you that you couldn't be in it. you knew that he was toxic, but you've been together since undergrad. you felt like it had been too long to break up now.

"your boyfriend sounds like a tool" eddie chuckles softly, causing you to giggle more.

"he is a tool, my god" you roll your eyes. "but i just... i dunno i love him i guess" you shrug as eddie begins to pull out of your friend's driveway. this is the most you've talked to eddie in... well ever. and now that you are, you can see why you were attracted to him in the first place. he truly was a sweetheart, it wasn't just a front.

"do you really?" he raises a brow "or is that what you say to make yourself feel better?" he asks

"what you you mean?" you ask curiously, raising a brow as you look over at him.

"i dunno... i'm just talkin" he mutters, shaking his head. he knew damn well that the way he thought about you was wrong. you were his friend's little sister for christ's sake. and he was at least twice your age. but you were just so fucking... pretty he couldn't help it.

"eddie..." you whisper softly, leaning over and touching his bicep as he stops at a red light. he turns to look at you. and you don't know if it's the deliriousness from how tired you are, the argument that you had with your boyfriend, or just the fact that you had gone completely insane and lost all inhibitions--but you kissed him. you leaned forward and planted a big one right on his lips.

to your pleasant surprise, he kisses back immediately, almost like it was a reflex. you did what you've always wanted to and ran your hands through his gorgeous chocolate locks and tugged gently on them. his hand hit your throat and he squeezed lightly and--a honk. he groaned, pulling back and speeding off.

"jesus eddie..." you whisper, setting your hand on his thigh and squeezing lightly.

"sorry, doll" he mutters softly, shaking his head. "sorry i shouldn't have done that" he murmurs.

"it's okay eddie" you whisper, rubbing his thigh softly, inching up. "i liked it" you tell him. he shakes his head as you squeeze his erection through his jeans. "and i think you did too" you taunt, messing with the zipper on his pants. "it's okay if you did, eddie" you whisper.

"fuck, doll" he groans softly, gripping the wheel tighter.

"just give me the word, eddie" you whisper, rubbing his hard on through his jeans.

"take what you want, doll" he nods, smirking softly as he looks over at you.

you nod quickly, undoing his pants and pulling his cock free. you undo your seatbelt, leaning over and stroking him slowly. you knew that it was wrong... but that all flew out the window. you couldn't care any less about what's-his-face. not as you pushed his cock into your mouth and felt the weight of him on your tongue. you moaned at the musky taste of him, and the feeling of his precum sliding down your throat.

once you got the first taste, all the thoughts in your mind flew out of the window. you sucked him off greedily, gagging over his length as your saliva slid down his shaft and pooled around his heavy balls. you swallowed around him and he outright whimpered. his hands tangled in your hair and he began to guide your head up and down on his shaft.

"you're such a good fucking girl baby. you take cock so well" he groans. "you suck your boyfriend's cock like this little slut? or is it reserved for me?" he taunted.

you shook your head as best as you could with his cock in your mouth. you moaned as you sucked his cock, playing with his balls.

"fuck baby..." he panted "fuck... baby i'm gonna cum fuck" he whined.

you sucked him off harder, twisting your hand around his shaft as you swallowed his cock whole. you swallowed repeatedly around his cock, your throat muscles constricting around the head of his cock. he moaned loudly, holding you down on his cock as he began to paint your walls with his cum.

you moaned, swallowing his load and sucking his cock clean of the mess you'd made as he moaned and whined. eddie stopped the car, parking in an abandoned parking lot as you righted yourself in your seat. "climb in the back" he ordered lowly "i'm far from done with you, baby" he smirks, slapping your ass as you squeaked, climbing into the backseat.

[the-hopeless-haze]

When Will the Clouds All Disappear? (ch1)

Gregory House x Reader - part of Series If You Want It, You Can Bleed on Me

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: heavy suicidal ideation

“Kind of rude to make a cripple head to the roof of a building to look for you.” You hear his voice, loud and clear behind you, gravelly and distinctly masculine. You’d know it was him anywhere.

“What do you want, Greg?” You ask, sniffling. You're sitting on the ground, your back against the ledge, having made yourself sick staring off it for a good ten minutes before he arrived. Your head is in your hands, blocking him out, blocking everything out. You can’t open your eyes. You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“You know,” he says firmly. You wish you had four hands so you could block your ears, too. You wish you were senseless. It would be so much easier. So much more peaceful.

“You wouldn’t have to worry anymore. I would just be gone,” you say, and you hate this, you hate everything, you wish he didn’t come up here so you could jump. Guilt-free. You know you look fucking ridiculous, with your hospital gown riding up to your thighs and those stupid non-slip socks damn near falling off your feet. Your hair is blowing wildly in the bitter January wind, and you feel lightheaded and woozy as it is, having pulled out your IV that hooked you up to fluids a half hour ago now.

“That isn’t what I want. I want you to come back downstairs with me.”

“How did you even know I was up here?” you question.

“You’re the one thing I can and can’t predict. Knew you’d come up here when they said you left the bed… still don’t know if anything I can say can get through to you. If you jump I jump?”

You shake your head. “No. You deserve to live.”

“And you don’t think you do?”

“No. And I don’t want to either.”

“Why not? I thought we had fun together.”“But you don’t care—“

“Why am I up here with you freezing my ass off if I don’t care?”

“Just go.”

“Not without you, sweetheart.”

You grimace at the pet name, it sounds so fake coming from his lips. “You didn’t even come to see me,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know what to say.”“Anything would’ve been better than nothing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. You’ll say anything so I don’t jump,” you say, tasting bitterness acrid on your tongue. You wish you could turn off your brain, but you’ve been here before, seconds to an attempt and still gone through with it with no one to stop you except for your diseased brain. And it was diseased, every impulse usually hardwired to keep your body alive at all costs screaming to be let out of its misery and to just let you die, please. It’s almost like an addiction, instead of one more hit, it’s just like, one more thing to let go of. One more thing to convince yourself doesn’t matter, one more person to convince yourself wants you to die or doesn’t care if you go, one more event you’ll never get to live through that you convince yourself you didn’t want to attend anyway.

“I mean it,” he says urgently. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’ve been a shitty boyfriend, lover, friend with benefits, or whatever you want to call me. I know I’m not the reason you’re contemplating this right now. You’ve struggled with this all your life. I’m not going to fix it. But Jesus Christ. You and I both know this isn’t the goddamn answer. You spent your whole life going to school and working to prevent people from offing themselves.”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you,” he says. “I came for the surgery—“

“You had plenty of time to see me. You weren’t there when I needed you to be! I’m just another patient, is that it? Don’t come visit them unless you think you’ll learn something? What was it, you never got to see a D&C before? I called you, Greg. You never answered. I had to call Wilson to make sure you weren’t dead but of course, you weren’t, you were just avoiding me and why should I expect anything more from you? Of course you run when things get hard; when the woman you’ve been fucking might need a little more than after-sex cuddles.” You stand up as you say this, turning your back to him, looking over the ledge. Fuck.

“I’m sorry. Just please don’t jump,” he says and if you were in your right mind you’d notice that he was getting increasingly desperate, but you aren’t noticing much of anything right now. Except that your plans were thwarted. You see firefighters and they’ve already set up a trampoline on the side of the building. You don’t say anything, nothing at all, and you start to walk away from that ledge and then sprint toward the other one, hoping that you can get over there, run faster than he can, but he’s on you, and he moves fast for someone with an injured leg when the adrenaline kicks in, and you feel yourself knocked to the ground, his warm breath fanning your face.

“Got you. You’re not getting away from me that easy,” he says, and you finally look at him for the first time since you’ve been up here. You wish he would crush you to death but he’s barely putting his weight on you, just enough that you can’t move.

“I can’t go through this again,” you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut, and you expect the hysterical tears but they never come. You feel numb. Empty.

“You can. You can and you will.”

“You’re going to put me on a hold?”

“I have to,” he says, and you could trick yourself into thinking there’s guilt in his blue eyes when you open yours again. “I’ll make sure they give you the good stuff. Say you need to be chemically restrained. Order you Haldol, Ativan, or whatever you want. But I need… I need to know you’re safe.”

“So you’ll sedate me?”

“It’s the only way I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Just like you to make it about yourself, huh?”

“Shut up,” he says sternly, tacking your name on the end of the command like a warning. “This isn’t about me. None of this is about me. I know that.”

“Then you should have let me go.”

“One day you’ll thank me,” he says, digging his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Hey. Yeah. I need help bringing her downstairs. She’s not going to go willingly.”

You hate how he’s talking about you the way you would talk about patients to your coworkers, and you hate him for calling Wilson to help him walk you down the stairs. Wilson’s a certified sap, and the look on his face, his brown eyes sympathetic and his brows furrowed… makes you want to hit him, and maybe you’d try if you had the energy to. You don’t want pity. You want to be left to your own devices. You want nothing, hatred, you could stand, but Wilson looking at you like you were a kicked puppy is more than you can handle right now.

“I wasn’t going to jump,” you say, and it’s unconvincing even to your own ears. “I wasn’t even on the ledge when you came up here.”

“Yeah. Well. It’s enough that I don’t believe you,” Greg says. “Your track record sucks. Every attempt has been after a traumatic event. Forgive me for being a little worried.”

You’re about to protest, say he doesn’t know anything, but you know he went through your medical files before the first time your lips touched his. Fair enough. Two could play at that game, certainly, and you took what you felt you could without him getting suspicious out of your file. You looked through his, too, because what’s good for him is by all means fucking good for you too, and if you can’t have normal conversations like a normal couple, at least you could learn about each other unconventionally. Isn’t that love, at least kind of love, searching high and low for information, trying to memorize somebody else like you know yourself?

Never mind that it’s illegal.

You feel his mouth on yours, his scruff scratching pleasantly at your skin, and… yeah. That’s when the fucking tears come.

You wish neither of these men saw you like this. You were meant to be firm, cold but compassionate, distant but likable, albeit only from that distance. You didn’t get close to people, not since you were younger, because you knew how you’d get and you knew it was a horrific sight. Wilson, you love like a brother, but Gregory… you love irrevocably, irreverently, irreversibly. Intense is an understatement, and you wish it wasn’t the case, you wish so badly you could turn it off and become the woman you were before that man and his cane hobbled into your life. You wish more than anything you were alone right now.

But then again. You might not be alive.

“Shh. It’s okay,” he says, and you don’t believe him. He doesn’t believe it himself. It’s just something to say. And he hates those clichés. He hates talking just to talk. Yet … he says that to you. He lies to you, just for your benefit. Everybody lies.. but it's usually for their own gain. “I don’t want to make this worse than it has to be,” he says slowly. “Make this easy for us.”

“You have drugs on you, Greg,” you say, rolling your eyes through your tears. You hate that you know him this well. “You’re prepared to sedate me regardless.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t want to have to get to that point. Would you rather be sedated? Because I can arrange that.”

“Get off me.”

“Are you going to walk with us?”

“Yeah,” you huff.

“Good girl,” he says, and in a different context that would lead to something very different than this. But no. He lifts himself off you instead of dicking you down, wincing when he puts his weight back on his leg, and he and Wilson both help you off the concrete roof. It’s now you realize your back is scraped from when Greg pushed you down, and you grimace as you stand up. Everything hurts.

You have four strong hands on your body now, Wilson’s thin graceful fingers wrapping around your left arm, the other hand on the small of your back to steady you. Greg, you’re more fine with seeing you this way, he’s a train wreck himself and you’ve gotten him out of his shell before. But Wilson? He’s got everything together, well, except for his marriages. House’s larger hands grip you too, one hand firm on your right shoulder and the other around your side.

It’s a slow walk down the stairs, back into the building and you feel a rush of relief at the feeling of heat on your body, but then it becomes too much and you don’t know what you’re fighting for because you know there’s no way you could run, you may be faster than Greg but there’s no way you’d get by Wilson in your current state, and then you’re pushed against the wall in the staircase, Wilson’s calling for security on a radio and a gurney on the radio, and they’re both holding you there and you’re struggling against them, arms you try to push out of the way and legs you try to kick but it’s to no avail, you feel the slight pinch of a needle in your arm and … that’s it. Maybe this is what you were asking for but you were too ashamed to say, too ashamed to acquiesce verbally to the sedation, too embarrassed to say “no, I need to be unconscious for this, thank you.” But you weren’t too embarrassed to pull a fucking nutty in the staircase of the hospital you work at.

“I would’ve just given it to you,” you hear Greg say. “You don’t have to do everything the hard way.”

And then, thankfully, mercifully, pleasantly, you fade out and away.