#smut used to be... well

[amourrs]

ellie who lifts your leg over her shoulder when fucking you with her strap so she can slide in deeper and hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars, lips smearing messily over your browbone. the proximity isn’t enough for her, though, so she tugs your hips closer to hers until they’re flush with one another and tears begin to leak from the corners of your eyes from the stimulation. it only takes her panted “love you so fuckin’ much, angel, shit,” for you to cum, cunt squeezing around your girlfriend’s strap as she lets out a sweet moan into the crevice between your neck and your ear. “well? just told you i love you, honey. y’gonna say it back, or do i need to go browse the ‘new girlfriends’ aisle at costco?”

[becca-e-barnes]

all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.

Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing 🙈

But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.

"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."

His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.

"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"

He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."

Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.

"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.

"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.

He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.

"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.

You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.

He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.

Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.

He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.

It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

imagine clinging to joel’s body as he fucks you deep in missionary. running your hands along his fuzzy hairy skin. being trapped under his strong muscles, encaged in his musk. locking your legs around his back so he can’t slip out. crying and moaning blissfully because you can’t believe he’s this deep inside you. listening to him growl, groan, and grunt about how wet you are. edging himself inside you because he doesn’t want to cum yet. him pulling out and slapping his cock on your clit, over and over, making you cum so hard that you can’t fucking breathe. and while you’re reeling from that orgasm, him sinking back inside you and sighing,

“gooood boy…”

[keigologies]

this is wrong, so wrong, and alhaitham knows it, but he can't do anything to stop it. he won't, not when it feels so good, so perfect despite the perverseness because how can something like this possibly be bad when it feels heavenly?

language escapes him when he looks down at you, knelt so beautifully between his legs, your throat taking his cock so well it nearly makes him short circuit. your tongue, your mouth work him over so entirely he can't help but think this is something you were made for this, for him.

but it's not possessiveness that overtakes him, it's piety. and it's you who he's worshipping, panting out your name like a prayer, a near beg to give him the release he's so desperately in need of. and you do, you give it to him. he finds that he doesn't need words when this is the language you're sharing right now, primal and unbridled pleasure.

© keigologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[alexsoenomel]

Random Joel Miller Headcanons:

Joel was an early bird, always had been, so naturally he would wake up before you to make breakfast and coffee.

He liked taking care of you. He was a man of a few words; didn't say much, but his actions spoke louder than words.

He liked when you would play with his hair whenever he couldn't sleep and you liked the way his soft gray locks felt between your fingers.

He was not the one to tell you what to do, but he would sometimes get very protective, like a guard dog, to the point where he would forget you were in fact an adult. He would try to control you, tell you what you can and can't do, but it never worked with you. It would always end with you telling him to fuck off.

Joel loved teaching you how to play guitar. He loved watching you as you would get lost and bit your lower lip as you tried to play a simple note. He thought you were cute whenever you would get frustrated.

Bickering, lots and lots of bickering. He was twice your age and you enjoyed reminding him of that.

"Not bad for a man in his 70s," you told him once, panting and covered in sweat after multiple orgasms he gave you.

"I'm 56, dumbass," he told you, trying to catch his breath.

"Perv," you teased.

"Oh, fuck off."

He would wake up in the morning because of you, he would try to live and not just survive because of you. Everything he would now do, he would do it because of you.

You loved to snuggle with him, especially during winter, because that man was a walking, taking heather.

Music. He loved sharing his favorite songs with you. You loved how excited he would get, when you actually knew the song.

Showering together; the purest form of intimacy. You loved washing his hair and he loved washing yours. He loved feeling your body under his rough fingertips.

Night drives. You loved watching him drive and the silence of the night, so every once in a while you would go on a drive in the middle of the night, listening to music, eating junk food under the stars, or you would pull over to the side of the road and fuck. Handprints all over foggy windows were a regular occurrence.

Animalistic sex. He loved making you scream in pleasure to the point where you couldn't take it anymore. He loved making you his in every position, location and at any given time. Biting, sucking, scratching -- he loved everything. Age was just a number in his ID; that man fucked like he was in his 20s.

He loved hearing you whimper and fall apart under him. He loved the way you would forget everything but the sound of his name whenever he would fuck you.

Slow sensual sex. Even though he loved fucking you senseless he also loved making love to you. He loved worshipping every inch of your body, taking his sweet time, teasing you until you couldn't take it anymore. He loved the way you would look at him. He was aware how much he was loved by you, but still thought he didn't deserve it.

Kissing. That man loved to kiss. Your neck was his favorite spot. You loved to bite his lower lip, just to tease him, since he would always get hard from it. He loved the way you would play with his lip between your teeth.

"Stop biting me, we are in public."

"Make me."

The first time he told you he loved you was in the bedroom. His guard was down, he was pounding in and out of you slowly as you were digging your nails into his shoulder blades. He still had no idea why he said it, but there was something about you that day. You were completely lost in him, telling him how good he was, how handsome he looked and how he made you feel so so good. He couldn't help himself. He whispered a soft I love you into your ear before you came, moaning his name over and over. "I love you too, handsome," you told him before kissing him. He would never forget it.

Enjoy me being delulu y 'all. Still struggling to write and feeling like shit. Hopefully it will pass soon, it's quite annoying.

[darksigns-exe]

I have been plagued by thoughts about this boy on his knees and I have to think about it so do you 🥰

warnings: oral sex (f receiving)

note: if you see spelling and punctuation mistakes you did not. bye 🩷

nsfw below

This pretty boy on his knees for you? He likes it just as much as you do — maybe even more. It’s his favourite thing. He likes the scrape of your nails against his scalp, likes how you tug at his hair when he finds a particularly good spot.

He’ll spend what feels like hours between your thighs, licking and kissing as if he’s worshipping at an altar. His hands never leave your thighs. The hold Noah has on you is tight, but not as desperate as you’d like him to be. Occasionally, you hear little whines and moans coming from him, soft little sighs of your name.

With how slow and diligent he is, it never becomes too much. It’s such a luxurious thing to have your pretty boy in front of oh like this.

When you look down at him, you find him with his eyes closed, sighing to himself. Noah’s entirely lost in his own world. He’s never been prettier.

Slowly but surely you feel yourself reaching your climax and your grip in his hair tightens just enough to spur him on. He looks up at you, eyes blown wide in pleasure. His cheeks are flushed so prettily. You can tell that he’s so close behind you. This is as much for him as it is for you. He’s all sighs and gasps against your pussy. Two of his fingers find their way inside of you, just to help you get over the edge. And when you finally come undone, it almost makes you black out. The warmth that floods through your body makes you shiver and shake, and you know that you’re probably gripping his hair a little too tight - not that he minds.

Eventually, he pulls away. His cheeks and lips smeared his spit and your release. There’s an almost dazed smile on his lips. God, he’s so satisfied with himself that he almost looks a little smug.

And when you ask him if he needs help getting off, he shakes his head with the most proud of himself look on his face. It’s only then that you notice the very obvious wet spot in the front of his boxers. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and really it should not surprise you. You know how much he enjoys burying his face in your pussy.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

I Wanna Watch

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

(AO3 mirror) summary: watching Joel jack off <3

warnings: filthy smut, mutual masturbation, no p in v sex. gentle f dom. 18+, minors dni.

a/n: I blacked out and found this on my computer I swear.

wc: 600

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thinking of Joel Miller, post outbreak, who doesn't get much time to himself anymore. who's libido dwindles due to the… uhhh… high stress environment. Only masturbates for the sake of it, once in a blue moon. Then he meets you. Cutest little thing in a tank top and army boots he's ever seen. Funny and smart and young enough that he feels like a perv when he gets back to his apartment thinking about you bent in half on his cock. He takes it slow, squeezes the base of his cock and drags it out to the tip; thinking of you taking it all like a good girl. He babbles in the semi-dark like a man possessed, saying your name and how good it feels around that pretty pussy. And when he cums, he erupts, sticky fluid all over himself at the sheer force of his orgasm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You wanna, do what…?"

"I wanna watch, Joel." You chew your lip and perch on the mattress. You and Joel had been fucking around for a while now, but this was the first time you had tried anything like… this. "Please? For me…?"

He nods, strained and already hard. You cup his face and kiss him: wet and messy and passionate. When the older man comes up for air, he runs a hand through silvered locks, and takes out his cock. For you.

Joel was beautiful, and increasingly shameless. Arms muscular and toned; face lean and hard-lined; stomach soft. In a tight white tank top and jeans, he left nothing to the imagination. And yet...

"All off, please. Wanna see all of you when you cum." Slight hesitation, and then he strips. He cups his cock; pretty, heavy, tan, curved to the side; and strokes.

"Too fast baby. Slower. Tell me what you're thinking of."

He closes his eyes and leans his head back. Lowly, he groans "You. On my cock." You hum, and scrape his back with your nails, causing him to hump upwards in his seat. He liked that.

"-fuck. Riding me. Bouncing that pretty ass on my t-tip. Whilst I suck on your tits. You're so pretty, angel. Just want a taste." Faster now, and the wet schlick-schlick of his hand on his cock fills the room. "M'gonna cum, angel, m'gonna-"

"Stop. Not yet. " you say gently. You take his hand under yours and straddle him; making sure he gets a good feel. He snakes under your shirt to knead at your tits. Moaning, you paw at your bare pussy under your skirt, knuckles ghosting his hard cock. "Now keep going, with me."

He barely registers your voice. All he can think about is your pussy, mere inches from his reach. He tries his hardest not to slam into you there and then. Shakily, he keeps pumping in time with you. Head buried in your tits.

"You're so good for me, f-fuck. You make me feel so good. Can you cum for me? Cum with me, please, Joel-" He slots his lips into yours messily, all teeth and tongue, for a final kiss before he moans into your mouth and cums all over you both. It's too much, and you arch into his touch, legs shaking as you follow soon after. You lick up the mix of fluids on your hand and he watches, hungry.

He takes his fingers into your mouth, and you suck them clean, diligently. With that he's hard again, rutting into your pussy, moaning at the way your slick lips feel against him.

Dangerously, he says, "My turn now, sweetheart."

[ssoftslutt]

tw!! dubcon/noncon. general blasphemy.

thinking of father!john price who puts it in your tight little asshole at the altar—a punishment for not knowing the lord’s prayer. has the bible open, and makes you read matthew 6:9-13—our father, who art in heaven—over and over and over as he pushes further inside. but you can’t possibly focus, not with his paws gripping your waist, keeping you still; not with his scratchy beard rubbing against your cheek, your neck, pressing shudders through you; not with his voice in your ear, low, rumbling, “keep going, little thing. finish y’prayer, b’fore i call deacon riley. an’ trust me, you don’ wanna deal with him, sweetheart,” (you do deal with him. both of them, sunk to your knees by the altar, one leg on either side of deacon riley’s burly thighs with father price behind you, bicep curved beneath your throat, cutting air—don’ fight it, little thing—and a hand fit your jaw, forcing your eyes on the bible laying on the deacon’s chest, matthew 6:9-13 open for you. “read, girl,” he grunts from below, but his eyes aren’t on your face. no, they’re watching price’s big cock disappear inside you, fucking into you; watching his own scarred paw bring his cock from the confines of his slacks and slide it back—back—to press right up against the father’s, and push—).

[haetrack]

i read no clue before i went to bed last night so ur responsible for the dream i woke up to about mark and now i have to share 🫡

mark’s never been more grateful for the giant vanity table in ur bedroom. the large mirror showing him a perfect view of ur face, scrunched up in pleasure as he’s buried in u from behind. the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room, layered over the sounds of ur moans. the table shakes with every thrust, his hands grabbing onto ur hips hard enough, ur sure it’ll leave bruises.

he burrows his face in ur neck, kissing and sucking up to ur jawline. he watches ur reflection as one of his hands leave ur hips to move to grope ur chest, squeezing ur hardened nipples. the whine it draws out of u, makes his cock twitch inside of u. “mark, please. u make me feel so good,” u whisper.

“yeah?” he mutters under a heavy breath. his hand slides down to press against ur clit, rubbing circles with the amount of pressure he’s perfected over all these times with u. his name slips out of u in a loud moan at the sudden stimulation of ur clit. he revels in the sheer mix of desperation and pleasure forming on ur face.

he presses a light kiss on ur cheek before pulling his chest away from ur back. he can tell u were so close, how could he not help his girl finish?

he pushes ur body further down onto the table, making sure to still be able to see ur face in the mirror. his hand pressing down on the hollow of ur back to keep u in place. he pulls himself out of u almost all the way, before slamming his hips into u harshly. a curse leaves ur lips, as he repeats the motion, each time getting faster and faster. ur fucked out expression encouraging him to go harder. he knows ur orgasm is near when u start clenching around him with every single thrust, sucking him in so well. angling himself to go even deeper inside of u, his cock fucking u so good that u come with his name leaving ur lips like a mantra.

the feeling of ur warm orgasm surrounding him makes him pick up his pace even more, desperate to chase his own high. it didnt take long for him to follow suit, one more look at ur pretty face, combined with the whines emanating due to the overstimulation of him still fucking into u causes his hips to stutter, shooting his cum inside u. the feeling of u being so full of him, and both of ur orgasms engulfing him.

pulling ur body back up off the table, he leans forward to exchange soft, slow kisses while u both tried to catch ur breathes. u break up the kiss, and whine in annoyance, “dude, ur gonna have to clean this up because i’m not doing it” gesturing to the mess of ur table, a few of ur collectible figurines had fallen to their side along with some makeup products that were now on the floor. mark laughs and rolls his eyes playfully before grabbing ur face to his again.

——

ANYWAY NO CLUE WAS SO GOOD LIKE WHY WAS I GETTING SHY AND GIGGLY FOR HIM LMAO. girl ur gonna make me through it with all these mark posts im catching up on. like im so sorry haechan i swear i still love u but atm i love mark more

- 🌱

YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME... I WONT BE ABLE TO HIDE MY FEELINGS FOR MARK ANYMORE... he needs me so bad... haechan go wait in the corner for a bit

just imagining him standing behind you one day watching you get ready for the little date you both are about to have. he's smiling at you, liking how calm it is as you get ready, how pretty your concentrated face looks. then there's all the little collectibles on your table, all these memories from your life, and newly framed pictures of you and mark together. he's happy to be a part of your life, smiling at the reflection of the two of you in the mirror.

he doesn't know how, but his mind wanders a bit. he wonders if he could just put his hand on your back, bend you down a little, put his hips flush to your ass, grinding into you. he bites his lip, squirming a bit as he watches you. he realizes he'd be able to see everything, how your face looks as he fucks you, how your body reacts to him. his hands are itching to reach over to you, but you call out his name, smiling as you see his pink cheeks.

and you know him so well, which would eventually lead to fucking on your vanity :)

[amourrs]

it’s senior year and you hate ellie williams. you hate the way she talks to you- the semi-texan drawl that comes out every time she teases you, grating against your ears and drawing heat to your face. you hate the way she cuts her hair- the fluffy layers of the mullet she cuts herself over the sink, so damn soft and attr— no. fuck. what are saying? you hate her, her and the way she stares at you every chance she gets: in class as you get into another fight with the teacher over yet another assignment set on a bullshit misogynistic book, from her bike as you avoid her gaze after school ends for the day and slam the door of your car so hard the tires bounce, from across the street in town as you accidentally meet her stare and tear your eyes away, praying desperately for the evil eye to land upon her. you hate her big dumb combat boots- the huge clumpy soles and ugly laces and the logo of a riot grrrl band you introduced her to stickered on the side, beginning to peel away from the surface. (really, you’re more pissed about the sticker than the boots.) you hate the way she reads your mind- god, you want to hit her. you hate her so much it makes you sick, it even makes you rhyme- “stop looking at me, you prick! suck my dick!” screamed angrily across the parking lot when you catch her staring. you hate the way she’s always right, like when she said she knew a little part of you found her smoking attractive even though you criticised her for it. you hate it when she lies- like when her head was squeezed between your thighs and her mouth was licking a firm stripe up to your clit and she swore you were heaven and she would never do anything to hurt you. you hate it when she makes you laugh- her flippant jokes at everything that make your lips tilt against your own will, heart racing faster as you bite back giggles. you hate it when she makes you cry. prom. what jesse said. the money. how she was paid to date you. ellie’s guilty face. how it was all a fucking act- but the worst part? is that even now, after you’ve sworn off ellie williams for good, you hate it when she’s not around. and that the thing you really hate is that after everything went down, she didn’t even call. but mostly, you hate the way you don’t hate her— not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

[beardedjoel]

closer | part one

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

story summary: you are staying with your parents, helping them move into their new house in austin. what happens when joel miller, the attractive neighbor you've been eyeing obsessively starts to show you some much wanted attention? 4.9k words.

chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), masturbation (f and m), reader is described in a few outfits (shorts and cropped shirt) and as having hair, this chapter is mostly expo and some ~flirtations~

a/n: been posting this mostly on ao3 for a while but thought the tumblr audience might also enjoy my self indulgent joel smut story <3

It’s well into your second week staying with your parents, and you’re laying in the grass in their backyard, reading the latest off your long list of books you’ve been itching to get into. It’s pleasant but already getting hot as you lounge in the shade, the Texas summer heat not yet at its peak for the day.

You came to stay with your parents in Austin after they officially moved here several weeks before you arrived, and your mom called you in a panic because your dad broke his leg falling down the stairs while they were moving in. You remember sighing loudly, your accident prone dad had finally broken something, and of course it was something this major.

You had already planned to move here after a job offer at a new startup in Austin was too alluring to pass up on, and after graduating from your Master’s program you had no further plans before this came along. So you came a few weeks before you planned to, hurriedly packing up your things in Chicago and coming to help your frazzled mother before planning to eventually find your own place and get settled at your new job. It’s been mostly relaxing aside from the moving and your anxious mother buzzing around constantly, almost like a little vacation before you start the rest of your life after years of college.

You peer up from your book, seeing their dog Benny, a chocolate lab, running around the yard with a smile. You stifle a yawn before taking another drink from the iced coffee set beside you in the grass, the glass sweating onto your hand. You go on high alert quickly, though, when you see that your parents’ neighbor is pulling out his lawn mower in the yard next door. This is the other perk of staying here - Joel Miller, the man who lives next door, the man you’ve been obsessed with since the first time you laid eyes on him. You haven’t managed to say a word to him, but every time he’s outside you’ve watched him as casually as possible, trying to learn more about him, observe him. You feel completely creepy half the time that you’re so interested in everything he does, but it’s hard to help it when he’s the most attractive, alluring man you’ve ever seen. He’s definitely older than you, although you can’t be sure by how much, but none of that matters to you as you lay your eyes on his toned form across the way, taking in his tanned skin, slightly tousled dark hair, and beard yet another time.

You find it hard to go back to concentrating on your book, although you’re certainly pretending to as you periodically look at him through your sunglasses while he mows his lawn. Even from afar, you can see the sweat glistening on his forehead and neck as he works out under the sun, and it’s driving you insane to think about how it would look up close. You can picture a bead of sweat running down the back of his shirt, and you have to force yourself to snap out of it. When the hell did you become such a horned up monster like this? It has… been a while since you’ve been with anyone, and even then those past encounters were pretty underwhelming, you muse to yourself as you continue to peek over at Joel. He reaches his white t-shirt up to wipe the sweat off of his face and you have to bite down on your lip as you see a glimmer of his stomach appear and then disappear.

Fuck, you need to go inside and cool off.

You snap your book shut, gathering your things and heading back towards your parents’ house, to the small detached apartment above the garage that came with the place. They hadn't thought much of it initially when they purchased the home, but for this situation it worked out perfectly - as a grown adult you were dreading the lack of personal space that would surely come with staying with your parents. This small apartment was a great surprise to find out about after agreeing to come to Austin early, affording you a bit of privacy. And thankfully you have it, you think as you quickly fling yourself onto your bed, letting the air conditioning cool you off and try to wipe the downright nasty thoughts you’re having about your neighbor you don’t even know from your mind.

The more you try to fight it, the more the thoughts invade your mind, and not for the first time since you noticed Joel, you give into the thoughts and slowly reach down into your linen shorts and start touching yourself, feeling the wetness that had already formed just from seeing him mow the lawn and the racing desires you were having about him. For fuck’s sake, you think to yourself as you feel it, but move on quickly to imagining what was under that shirt, imagine undressing him and kissing him and fucking him. You just know he’d be a good fuck, a giving lover - he has a confident, sexual appeal to him that feels so undeniable. You rub your clit in slow circles, trying to picture his hand being the one to do it, and come quickly at the thought, biting down on your fist to muffle your panting moans just in case your parents could hear. You haven’t yet figured out the amount of noise traveling from the apartment to the rest of the house, so better to be safe than sorry. You lay, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling for a bit, debating yet again on finally talking to him. There’s no way you’d even be able to get a sentence out at this point, and you laugh to yourself trying to picture it.

Instead, you keep yourself busy around the house for a while with your mother while your dad attempts to unpack some things from a chair, his leg fully casted. You both roll your eyes jestingly at his effort, and continue to organize until your mom decides she wants to go pick up some dinner. When you sit down with them that evening to eat, you notice Joel through the kitchen window, which has a decent view into his yard. He’s cooking on his grill, holding a beer in the other hand, taking a swig from it. You sigh quickly, irritated that you can’t even eat your pizza in peace without his distractions. Your parents both eye you, your mom asking if anything is wrong with the food, and you shake your head.

“No, I just… remembered I was supposed to call my friend back in Chicago - you remember Sofia? So I think I’ll just eat the rest of this up in my space, if that’s okay,” you say, lying right to their faces.

“Of course, don’t miss your little date with Sofia,” your mom smiles at you, and you excuse yourself, grabbing the plate of pizza and going through the sliding glass door to the backyard. The entrance to your apartment is along the back of the garage and up a flight of stairs, so you have to cut through the yard to get there. As you approach the stairs, it takes you nearer to Joel’s fence and your view of him at his grill. His back is turned, but when you walk closer he turns slightly, just enough to catch your eye. He raises his beer slightly as a greeting and gives you a smile, and you’re barely able to smile back due to the nervous butterflies you now feel under his gaze. You rush quickly now, darting up the stairs and heading into your apartment.

Coward, you think as you set the pizza down on the counter of the small kitchenette and hold your head in your hands until you can calm down. You do indeed end up calling Sofia, filling her in on the latest news of your “hot neighbor” as you two have been naming him, and she laughs in earnest at your complete inability to speak to Joel, that she’s never seen you like this about anybody, but continues to encourage you to go for it. She says she knows you’ve got it in you, but you aren’t sure anymore. You can’t tell if she’s a bad or good influence on you, but you do know you desperately want to follow her advice and simply begin by having a conversation with the man. Maybe once you talk to him, you won't feel this insane desperation towards him anymore, maybe he’ll be boring, maybe he’ll seem uninteresting if you get to know him. Somehow, you think as you try to fall asleep that night, you doubt all of that to be true.

“Mother fucker…” you mutter angrily to yourself the next day, attempting to do… you truly have no clue what you’re attempting to do to fix this gate, but you’re stubborn enough to keep trying. Your parents are both out of the house at work today, and you were told to try and be productive, so here you are trying to do just that, desperately poking, prodding, screwing and unscrewing pieces on this latch.

“That’s quite a mouth you got on ya there,” a deep, slightly rough voice with a southern accent cuts in. You gasp lightly in surprise, having not heard him coming with how focused you’d been. You turn your body and look up from your crouched position, shielding your eyes from the sun shining behind him. It’s Joel Miller, right there in the flesh, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to him. He must have come up behind you from the pathway that leads to the driveway of the house when he saw you struggling with the gate. You can see the lines in his face a little better - his tan, speckled skin, and brown eyes are catching your attention much more at this distance. You suppose you’d known he had brown eyes, but as you rise up to meet him, you’re absolutely mesmerized by them.

“I… uh,” you stammer, still surprised he’s talking to you. “My mom would kill me if she knew a stranger heard me talking like that,” you laugh a little, rubbing your neck nervously, feeling how it’s sticky with a layer of sweat from being out in the hot sun. You can’t believe those are the first words you’re uttering to Joel, the one you’ve been trying to find the perfect thing to say to introduce yourself to, and you end up talking about your fucking mom. Just great.

“Good thing I ain’t a stranger then, I’m a neighbor,” Joel replies, looking at you with a small, friendly smile. You see his eyes roam quickly over your whole body, taking in your shorts and small cropped tank top leaving little to the imagination. You feel your cheeks go warm under his gaze taking in your features.

“Yeah, but I don’t even know your name, so where does that leave us?” you lie, acting as if you hadn’t casually asked your parents about him as soon as you could fit it into a conversation.

Joel lets out a little chuckle, his whole body seeming to rumble slightly with it. “Right,” he says, and you think he may be able to see right through you with his scrutinizing eyes. “Your folks didn’t tell you anything about me, then?”

“Not really,” you say sheepishly. He doesn’t seem to buy it, but he plays along.

“I’m Joel,” he reaches out a hand, “Miller.”

You tell him your name and grab his hand to shake it. His grip is firm but gentle with you, and you can feel how hard his large hands are from working with them. You try not to have a visceral reaction from touching him, but you can feel yourself shy away from it and you hope to any higher being that he doesn’t notice.

“What’cha workin’ on there?” he asks, gesturing to the gate.

You press your lips together, feeling embarrassed at him having seen you fail so miserably at your handiwork. “Just trying to fix this gate for my parents, the latch is messed up or something,” you say, biting your lip nervously. Joel gives a wry smile with his head cocked as you attempt to explain.

“Lemme take a look, darlin’,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder to gently move you to the side. You try not to let your mouth hang open at his use of a pet name and the feeling of his hand touching your bare skin. You don’t know how it got this far, these few weeks spent watching him from afar, that you’d fallen head over heels for the man based on sight alone. Now that he was talking to you, touching you, there was absolutely no turning back now. You need more, all of your senses already hungry for him, and you force yourself to reign it in as quickly as you can, blinking to focus on what Joel is doing.

He inspects the latch, testing it a few times before calling you over to look more closely. You can barely breathe as you stand next to him, the warmth of his body radiating towards you, but despite the heat of the day, you find you don’t mind it at all.

“Now see here?” He says, pointing to an area on the latch mechanism. “This is all bent up, no wonder it keeps poppin’ open.” You realize he must have been watching you attempt to fix this for longer than you’d thought, if he knew that the latch had kept popping back open on you. The thought is equally tantalizing and embarrassing and you can’t help but wonder what he was thinking of you as he watched. You realize he’s looking towards you now, awaiting confirmation that you understood what he said. You make quick eye contact, but decide to focus your eyes on the latch instead so you don’t immediately lose your train of thought.

“Ah, okay. So... what do we do, then?” You bite your lip again, then silently curse yourself for the nervous habit.

“Could try hammerin’ it back into place until you can get a new piece,” he says with a small shrug, still standing close to you. “You got a hammer in that toolbox of yours?” he asks, motioning down to where it rests near your feet. You bend down to grab it for him, feeling his eyes on you as you grab the hammer and hand it to over him. He shows you what he’s doing and explains along the way, but you can hardly pay attention - his toned arms, tan from being out in the sun, are bulging out of his dark t-shirt as he puts the effort in to knock the latch back into place are the biggest distraction. You nod along and appear interested, sneaking a quick glance at his arms or concentrated face every so often.

“All done, should do for now,” he says, quickly testing the gate’s latch, then turning to you with another friendly smile, his brown eyes catching yours again.

“G-great, thank you,” you say, knowing you want to keep the conversation going, but unsure of how to keep his interest. What the hell could hold his interest about a stuttering, inexperienced woman like you? “Really, I appreciate it. Who knows how long I’d have been out here trying to fix that.” You laugh a little, and it comes out nervous sounding, which makes you nearly cringe. But Joel just continues his lopsided smile at you and hands the hammer back over.

“My pleasure, darlin’, felt like the neighborly thing to do,” he replies. You think you might pass out if he calls you darlin’ one more time, you swear it. “Got anything else you needed my help with?”

You try not to look too stunned at his offer, knowing it’s your chance to try and get to know him better, and not wanting to mess it up.

“Actually, y-yes,” you say, and it’s the truth. Your parents house came with a few projects that have now become your problem since you’d offered to help out. “I was going to try and fix this cabinet in my parents’ kitchen, but you don’t have to -” you start, but Joel interrupts you quickly.

“Let’s go on then, show me,” he says, putting a hand out for you to lead the way. You walk through the newly fixed gate and into the backyard, leading him towards the sliding glass door.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I can probably figure it out,” you offer as you start to open the door.

“No offense honey, but the way you were fightin’ with that gate, I think you could use my help in here,” he says, his accent thick on the word ‘honey’ and you feel yourself sink into the feeling of it, a warmth low in your belly that spreads outwards. You just give him a nervous but appreciative smile as you lead him into the kitchen. The air conditioning immediately brings you relief from the way your cheeks are burning, just being around Joel sending you reeling. Goosebumps coat your skin and you cross your arms instinctively at the cooler air hitting you and shut the door behind Joel after he enters. Benny comes in the room, sniffing at Joel, and Joel pets him and gives him a scratch behind the ears with a soft smile before Benny trots off. You try to hold back a smile at the immediate green flag popping up with how sweet Joel was with Benny.

“Sorry about the mess, uh, still unpacking everything here,” you apologize, walking past some boxes and taking note of all the piles of stuff yet to get put in its place. “Did you… want some water, or anything?”

Joel nods. “You’re a polite thing, aren’t you,” he drawls, eyeing you, and the way he says it makes your skin tingle, the hairs on your arms standing up. “Raised in the south, I assume?” he says, watching you think for a moment which cabinet your parents had unpacked the glasses to and quickly finding one, trying to hide your slightly shaking hands as you fill the cup at the sink.

“Er, yeah, San Antonio,” you say, handing him the glass. He takes a lengthy sip then looks back in your direction.

“What brought your folks to Austin? Brought you to Austin?” he asks casually, leaning against the countertop now. He sure is making it easy to continue the conversation, which is exactly what you were hoping for, him carrying the brunt of it while you try to get your footing.

“My parents wanted to be a bit closer to family, buy a smaller house, that kind of thing. I’m just back here from school in Chicago to help them settle in since my dad broke his leg right after they moved. And a job offer here in Austin kind of sealed the deal for me,” you ramble nervously, unsure of what to do with your hands so you tug anxiously at your shorts.

“Hm,” Joel says, considering you and tilting his head to the side. “Awful sweet of you to help out.”

“T-thanks, it’s not a big deal, just for a while until I get set up at my new job,” you say as a shaky smile crosses your face. You’re looking at the floor on and off for most of the conversation, trying your best to meet his eyeline.

“A bit shy too, it seems,” he smirks a little, but not in a condescending way - it’s friendly, and almost sweet. “Seen you round, but you’ve never said hello,” he says. You think you can’t possibly feel any more flushed and embarrassed  around him, but there it is, that familiar burning feeling rising to your cheeks.

“Neither did you,” you retort, trying to sound brave and sassy, maybe the type of girl Joel would be into. He laughs a little at your comment, and you wonder if you’re on the right track.

“Fair point there,” he replies, “Didn’t wanna scare you away, I ‘spose.” His tone is teasing, but you have to wonder quickly at the content, that he was... worried about scaring you away. Does that mean he’d noticed you, wanted to get to know you as well, but didn’t know how to approach? You brush off the runaway thoughts, assuming he was just joking around and being friendly, because there was not a chance any of that was true. You picture yourself in his eyes and nearly shake your head - of course none of it could be true.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you say back, surprising yourself with your own words, feeling a rush of pride that you were able to flirt with him, even if just a little. Your response gets another smile out of him, and he seems to take note of your flirty tone with a small raise of his eyebrows.

“Let’s take a look at that cabinet, then,” he says, putting the glass down on the counter. You show him the slightly crooked upper cabinet that’s been driving your mom nuts, the one you swore to her you could try and fix today. You aren’t sure if you want to even explain the whole truth to her when she sees with surprise that it actually got done - you think she might be upset with a stranger being in the house, but like Joel said, he’s a neighbor, not a stranger. “You got a power drill?” he asks, interrupting your thoughts.

“Oh, um,” you say, thinking out loud, “I think it’s around here somewhere,” you immediately start looking around busily, trying to remember where your dad said he put it in this current mess of a house.

“No worries, let me just go and grab mine,” he offers, leaving out the sliding door and you standing alone. Finally. You release a long, slow breath, realizing you’d practically been holding it without noticing. You try to shake off the nerves, not let Joel get to you so much - he’s just your neighbor, just some guy, you shouldn’t be this puddling, nervous mess around him. But the way you felt being so close to him when you’ve been pining for him from afar has far from left you, you think as your stomach turns with butterflies.

Joel returns before you can fully calm yourself down and begins working on the cabinet. When he reaches up to use the drill on the hinges, his shirt lifts slightly, just enough to see a sliver of skin around the waistband of his jeans. You’re mesmerized by it, and feel warm all over again despite the air conditioning blasting through the house. You’re currently lost in wondering what it would be like to grab a fistful of his shirt and continue lifting it up, revealing his stomach and chest, the little peek of hair you can see there.

The intermittent noise of the drill as he works has become background noise to the downright filthy thoughts you were having about Joel’s midriff, so you don’t fully notice when it stops and Joel turns towards you, catching where your eyes had just been staring. You inhale sharply, caught in the act, and avert your eyes, rubbing your arm and trying to look casual. You swear you hear a quiet chuckle come from him and you know your expression gives you away, but you dare to bring your eyes up to his face, which is watching you with a knowing smirk.

“All set,” he says, seeming to choose not to comment on the situation, which you silently thank him for. He made quick work of fixing the cabinet, and now you truly don’t have any other projects for him to work on, feeling a small pit in your stomach at the thought.

“Thank you,” you squeak out, still reeling from your embarrassment. “My parents will be relieved that all of this is fixed now, but I guess no thanks to me.” You laugh at your own confidence this morning, thinking you had the ability to do any this handiwork today when you’ve hardly fixed anything around the house in your life.

“Don’t think you’ve got a handy bone in your body, darlin’,” he jokes. “Tell you what - why don’t you tell them it was you, take all the credit,” he says, giving you a wink. A fucking wink. It’s quick and you almost think you imagined it, but it makes your knees feel like jelly.

“Oh, n-no, I couldn’t do that,” you say, furrowing your brows with a quick shake of your head. Joel chuckles, the sound rich and ringing in your ears beautifully. You realize you want to hear it a million times more, that you don’t think you could get tired of hearing that sound come out of his beautiful mouth, those plush lips so fucking inviting it’s driving you insane.

“Like I said, such a polite girl,” he teases, and your cheeks continue the way they’ve been steadily warming since you two started talking. “Well, you know where to find me if you ever need more help ‘round here,” he says, turning to head for the door, then after a few steps rotates back towards you slightly. “Or anything else,” he adds with what you swear is a devilish smile on his face. You feel your breath hitch at the words and almost can’t say anything at all, your mouth and throat drying up and refusing to make any noise for several seconds.

“T-thanks again, really,” you say, still dumbfounded, as he reaches the door. You follow closely behind, trying to be polite and close the door behind him - there it is again, damn it, the word polite.

“Take care.” He gives you another quick smile and walks off, leaving you standing in the doorway for a few moments before you blink hard and regroup, finally closing the door.

Joel leaves your house with a smug grin plastered on his face, his thoughts reeling from his interaction with you. Of course he’d noticed the sweet girl who arrived one day next door at his new neighbor’s house, the one who lounged around in the backyard in sexy summer clothes - little shorts and cropped shirts - trying to stay cool but making it hard for Joel to focus when he was struck by how beautiful you are. Of course he’d noticed how you noticed him, at first maybe thinking you were just being a little bit nosy, but then seeing the way he’d constantly feel your eyes on him, your expression changing over time as you continued to watch him throughout the weeks. He could sense the lustful look in your eyes even from afar, and did his best to keep his glances at you as short lived as he could stand. It was when he saw you laughing for the first time, fully and whole-heartedly, on the phone with someone as you twirled a strand of your hair, that he knew it was bad, that he was already in too deep.

He saw you always reading, writing in a journal, or sunbathing with headphones on, and it was mesmerizing to watch you in your element, Joel thought. He’d also noticed, whenever he did any kind of work in the yard, how you would watch more intensely, and his own thoughts would begin drifting into something inappropriate, until you’d get up in a hurry and head up into that little apartment above the garage. He didn’t want to make any assumptions on what you were doing, but seeing you rush away looking hot and bothered into a private place always left him feeling a bit of the same way. He’d already lost count of how many times you’d popped into his mind as he masturbated, despite him trying to avoid it, you always wormed your way in there, an image of you always being the final blow, the reason he came.

It was clear as day you were younger than him by a good amount, and he’d been having misgivings about it, thinking it was already borderline just how much he’d been unashamedly checking you out. But, when he saw you struggling with that gate, he couldn’t help but to watch with a little smile for a bit - you’d looked cute, your brow furrowed and concentrated, trying all the tools under the sun, having no idea what to do. He decided against his better judgment that it was time to step in and close the gap between you two, despite his reservations.

He hadn’t expected just how shy and nervous you’d be, based on your demeanor from afar and the way you’d been watching him. You’d seemed confident, cool headed, and a bit boisterous when you talked to your parents, or on the phone. It was sweet actually, he thought, just how shy he’d made you, but he hoped he hadn’t misread the situation and ended up making you uncomfortable. He found the way you’d looked so flustered and tripped up on your words so endearing, and the way you got a bit more bold towards the end of the conversation gave him hope. Hope for what, he wasn’t sure yet, but he was longing to find out exactly what you wanted from him.

You’re not crazy, you know that. You didn’t imagine the wink, and you certainly didn’t imagine the way he so slyly added on that last comment, saying to find him if you needed “anything else”. You spend the entire evening analyzing every moment of the conversation, then imagining what that ‘anything else’ could entail, and find yourself reaching a hand down your pants for yet another time that night, furiously fingering yourself with thoughts of handyman Joel fucking you on the kitchen counter. Then on your bed. His bed. The couch. Against a wall. In his truck. The list goes on and on, each new place you fucked in your head better than the last. You lay back, sighing, after you come again and still feel completely unsatisfied, knowing that you’ll remain this way until you experience the real thing. You go to sleep exhausted but with resolve that night, knowing you’re going to find out if there’s a possibility of fucking Joel Miller if it’s the last thing you do.

[miss-conjayniality]

heeseung's dusky complexion is the sexiest, most beautiful sight i have ever laid my eyes on. fuck ANYONE who dares whitewash his sunkissed skin!!!!!!! whoever dares to commit such a heinous crime to his ethereal, exotic complexion deserves INTENSE persecution!!!!!

heeseung’s skin is mesmerizing in every way possible. he is the epitome of eye candy. he’s the living personification of honey. I wanna lick his skin because i’m SURE it tastes like honey. pretty sure the sun kissed his skin a little too hard 😮‍💨 I’m actually quite jealous of the sun because it was able to even KISS heeseung’s skin in the first place!!!!!!

could you just IMAGINE kissing heeseung’s sunkissed, naked body? and seeing him get all flustered and holding back his whines because he’s so shy by all the praise you’re giving him about his beauty!???🥺

god. the way i view unwhitewashed idols is no different from a victorian in the 1800s freaking out at the sight of a woman’s ankles or wrists….

[hungharrington]

you already know i’m way too soft… so i give you: [ CLOSE ]  sender wrapping their arms around receiver who is on top after they’ve finished,  holding them close against their chest with their face hidden in their neck while they recover. 

special bonus if you somehow can make this the softest thing ever (the reward is a fat kiss)

you know what auttie u were the only one who picked this one but bcos it's you, imma do it anyways <3 MDNI this entire blog is 18+

One thing you can't say about Steve Harrington is that he is not a determined person.

Other people might use the word competitive but you know better; within him is burning determination that drives him to do better in everything he does. Loving you is one of those things. Loving you in bed... is another.

You're particular. You used to hate it — that you like this but not that, but you like this sometimes and that if you do it a certain way. It feels overly picky and for a long time, before you had Steve, you weren't sure if you allowed to be that picky.

But Steve meets your particularness head on.

So, if it means you need a little longer to cum? Well, it's simply of a challenge of stamina and working a little harder for it. Steve always rises to the challenge.

Tonight, you're wound extra tight— frustrated that it's taking you so long to get near your peak even with Steve doing all the right things. But he's more than pleased with letting you take what you need, giving breathy little groans just at the sight before him.

He's beneath you, one hand helping your hips rock forward and back, his throbbing cock buried deep in your wet cunt. You've been at it awhile, a slow ride on his cock, bringing both of you closer and closer— but Steve's focus is all on you.

"Fuck, you're so—" His words get swallowed up in his moan as you rise up on your thighs an inch and drop back down, the roll of his hips still so gentle. The sex is never too rough when you're on top. Steve doesn't care in the least, he likes it, he loves it. Adores when it's soft and slow and you take what you need from him.

"Oh f-fuck, honey," He whines, his hips bucking up and pressing his cock up into you. A flame of white hot pleasure licks up your spine as Steve's fucked out rambling continues. "So pretty—y'so fucking gorgeous."

It's a time where you have no choice to believe him completely — with the reverent expression on his face, flushed cheeks and cherry red lips, gazing up at you atop him like you're everything. The knot in your tummy burns hotter. A desperate whimper tumbles out your throat and your hips move a little faster.

"You getting close? Y'need my help, mm?" He asks. Normally, there would be that slight condescending lilt that makes you gush but tonight, it's just love. You nod, whimpering again as you do. You're close, so close— but not close enough.

"Yes," you gasp. "Please, Steve- more, I need— can you—"

"Hey, sh sh," Steve shushes you, hearing how you're getting worked up just trying to ask him for more. His hand slides from your hip across your belly, palm flat and warm, til his thumb finds your clit. He rubs fast circles, just the way you've taught him you like, and he's rewarded with a long whiney moan. "There we go, that's what you need, yeah?"

You're nodding, chest beginning to heave as the edges of your orgasm trickle in. Your hips move desperately, fucking yourself on his cock as his thumb gives the extra stimulation on your clit you need.

"S-Steve," you pant, a whimpery warning. "Steve, fuck, I'm— you're gonna make me cum, you're gonna—"

You cut yourself off with a loud whine, all high pitched and breathy, as your orgasm finally washes over you. You flutter around his cock and feel the grip of his hands tighten, Steve's own orgasm tipping over after holding off for so long. You can't help how your buckle, leaning forward and onto Steve's chest as you quiver and moan— Steve dutifully milking it as he fucks the both of you through your highs.

It's delirium, it's overwhelming, it's so much — you cum hard enough to see stars and bury your face away in his neck, safe to ride out the waves. You're still panting, cunt still clenching around him and Steve's hands move, dragging up your sides so he can wrap his arms around you in a big hug. One of his big hands strokes down your spine soothingly, his own heavy breathes beginning to slow.

"That was a big one, hm?" He murmurs, soft and low. You can see feel him throbbing inside you, can still feel bursts of pleasure making your thighs tremble. "Mm, I know it was, I know. You did so good, baby, so good."

You try to speak but another muffled pitiful noise escapes you instead and Steve's arms tighten their hug; his hands stroke over your hair this time, fingers drifting through to scrape at your scalp softly.

"Did so good f'me," He continues, finally feeling your body start to relax against him, recovering slowly from the intense high. Faintly, he can feel you press a kiss to his neck and it makes him smile. "So, so good. I love you, y'know?"

"I know," you manage to speak, words muffled against his skin. "I love you too."

Steve's smile transforms to a blinding grin, even though you can't see it — you swear his chest glows a little bit hotter beneath you. You kiss his neck again. God, he loves you well. You should move probably now that you've caught your breath— the sweat is beginning to cool.

One more minute, you think, happier than ever just where you are.

[st-eve-barnes]

Unpopular opinion: if you don't use capital letters in your fanfic I blatantly refuse to read it, I don't care how many notes or how popular it is.

[jadewritesficshere]

Painting

Modern!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Contains: nudes, mutual masturbation, phone sex

18+ only

Eddie flopped face down onto his mattress with a sigh. After working all day, playing at the Hideout, and then hauling all of the bands' equipment, he was wiped. He wanted nothing more then to smoke and go to sleep. His phone pinged with a notification. A contact under the name "Loser" had messaged him, causing a split second of confusion before a lazy grin spread across his face when he realized it was you (he had forgotten he changed it when high). You had been unable to come see Corroded Coffin play tonight as you had made previous plans.

Loser: How did it go?? Good?? Bad??

Loser: Was that one chick who wants to be a groupie there??

Eddie: went ok. Y u jealous?

Loser: just curious lol

Eddie: sure. Wbu?

Loser: Good! Robin and Nancy came. We had a nice dinner. We did paintings! Robin's looks better then mine. Mine looks like shit 😔 now just taking a bath and relaxing.

Eddie: show me?

Loser: lol no???

Eddie: y not? I'm sure it good

Loser: you sure?

Eddie: yes

Loser: fine

Eddie doubted your painting looked bad. You always tore yourself down, even when you did amazing things. He always wanted to throttle you, but knew he would be a hypocrite if he did. Eddie rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling. He would convince you one day that you were awesome, but until then he would just have to keep reminding you. His phone dinged with a new message from you. He opened it and saw a picture attached and-

Immediately dropped his phone. His heart picked up speed. His eyes widened and face flushed. Eddie dove for the phone as if it were a life preserver and he was drowning. He couldn't believe his eyes. He licked his lips and stared at his phone.

A picture from your neck down. Bubbles in the bath around you. Water was running down your collarbone towards your tits. Your nipples barely covered by the bubbles. One boob having no bubbles around it at all, but your hand flipping him off blocked him from seeing more. He was greedy. He wanted to see more, and had never imagined you would send him this to begin with. Eddie looked down at the tent that had formed in his boxers.

Loser: ask nicely next time 😤

Eddie groaned and his dick twitched. You had totally misunderstood him, he had wanted to see your painting- of course he was more then glad for this outcome. However, he couldn't quite unsee what you had sent, nor would he want to. Eddie reread your text. Next time means more than just this once. Means maybe he could see more. Means maybe he has a better shot with you then he thought. He already overthought things with you many times, and now his brain had just switched to overdrive.

A million thoughts ran through his head as his hand traveled south. He paused briefly," Oh fuck it." He grabbed his dick over his boxers, causing the outline to be very noticeable. He took a pic before sending it to you. He would have felt bad about not sending a message with it, but he would have sat there for ages trying to think of a response. And he couldn't find it in himself to care as he pressed lightly against his dick.

He dropped his phone on his stomach. All Eddie could think about was you as he pulled his dick out of his boxers. Your soap covered tits. How beautiful they looked.. He licked his hand before slowly grasping his dick and squeezing the base, causing the tip to flush more. The pressure causing him to moan. He slowly stroked up and down his length. He picked up the pace, canting his hips up to meet his hand. Part of him wanted to go slow, but the rest of him wanted to get this over with quick so he could do it again and again and again. His chest heaved and sweat started to form on his brow. A sigh fell from his lips that quickly turned to a moan at the thought of it being your hand wrapped around him. How small your hand would look on his dick. How-

His stomach tensed and he jolted as his phone started vibrating and your ringtone played. The vibrations on his lower stomach felt so good, he was tempted to let it keep playing, but the urge to hear your voice was stronger. With his free hand he grabbed the phone and answered. "H-hello?" Eddie asked, panting into the phone. "Oh fuck, Eddie," your voice higher than normal sounded like music to his ears. Eddie moaned and your response was a whimper. "Fuck babe, see what you do to me?" Eddie's voice felt like sandpaper, he was surprised he could even find words. "Uh-huh." The sound of water splashing caught Eddie's attention," holy shit. Are you touching yourself?" "Wish it were you."

Eddie's mind went fuzzy as he picked up speed. The schlick noise picking up, his mind filtering out everything except your moans. "Sound so good. Wish I was there." Eddie mumbled, feeling his tip leaking generously. He was so close. "Fuuuck Eddie I'm gonna-" your sentence was cut off with a moan and he lost it. His hips bucked without rhythm and cum spurted everywhere. He never understood the phrase of people seeing stars behind their eyes until now, but they were more like fireworks. He had never cum this much in his life, not even when he had first found porn.

He slowly came back down, a euphoric feeling enveloping him. A warmth spread in his chest as it heaved, trying to catch a breath. He looked down and saw his shirt covered with his release. Your chuckle pulled him back to earth. "Uh so that happened...so whatcha gonna do about it Munson?" He hummed," Think i should ask you for a date." "You should."

Eddie had the biggest grin when you finally got off the phone, date planned for Friday night. He looked down at your contact name before changing the s to a v. He was going to find that painting you did and make sure it hung over his bed, so he could remember this night forever.

[bellswlw]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ in the morning ⇨ e. williams

ellie williams x afab!reader

wc: 1.2k

masterlist

summary: as the sun begins to rise, Ellie's hands begin to set lower and lower under the elastic of your underwear until she wakes you completely.

cw: fingering (r!receiving), soft orgasm (r!receiving), kinda top!ellie, fluff and so much touching.

a/n: this was supposed to be like 500 words and is totallyyyyyy not based on any real thing totallyyy 100% fiction….. hope u like it gn! not proofread.

It's 7 am.

The sun has slowly begun to creep up from behind your window, leaving a blinding haze the moment you crack your eyes open and shift against Ellie in your too small of a bed.

she mumbled something against your neck, her head snuggled deep within it before kissing it once.

Her hands were warm on your stomach, hugging you from behind and under the covers you were sharing.

It was below freezing in the room, and even with Ellie's body pressed against you, you shivered when your foot was exposed for too long and you had pulled it back under; touching your leg in the process.

You groggily took a hand from its stiff position under your chin and clasped it with hers. A warm hum vibrated against your skin when Ellie realized what you'd done.

A smile quickly forms onto your lips just before it fades to a slouched line, your breathing falling even as you drift off.

Sometime around 8, the sun has risen further in the sky bringing its shine into your room and heating the top of your head.

"'s so bright," you murmur into Ellie's chest now, nuzzling yourself as close to her as you could to avert the sudden warmth of your scalp the sun had brought. Ellie didn't mind though, the warmth felt nice under her chin.

She didn't say anything that you could understand, just slouched an arm over you, drawing you closer while one leg draped over you pulled the back of your bare thigh closer to her.

You only had a shirt and underwear on. Her as well, although she was in a white tank top and boxers. A slight difference.

She whispered something to you, inaudible at first, but you felt her chin move above you so she must have said something.

"Hm?" you croak, your grip tightening against Ellie's waist, nearly begging to bring her in closer to you. So close that your bodies mend as one, the blistering sun beating in through the window hot enough to do the job easily.

“‘nna feel,” she says again, but the only word you can make out is feel, so you ask her through a whisper to repeat herself one more time.

She clears her throat before she speaks again, and her hand rounds over the shape of your ass, softly letting her fingers graze over the cotton before she gives it a lazy squeeze. "You." is all she says now. And you feel your voice squeak a response.

"Yeah," you say before you mindlessly slot a knee between hers.

The sound of Ellie's heart begins to bold in your ear, its soft and steady beat quickly picking up into a strand of dun dun dun's that make you slowly reel your hand back from around her stomach and place it against her chest, almost as if to soothe it. The sound draws your back, far enough into the mattress that you’re asleep again, just like that.

And it's around 9 that the sun has fully risen, completing its cycle just moments before you let a small gasp slip through your lungs as you feel Ellie's hand slowly creep below the band of your underwear.

You hum against her, her warm skin striking a match against yours when the pad of her two fingers swarm your clit with dizzying circles. They're slow, but effective. Causing you to breathe deep and absentmindedly start to spread your legs for her.

Ellie's right hand continues to move against you before she feels your leg rest against her knee, and silently ushering to let it fall wider she opens her own and pins yours between both of hers.

You let out a sleepy moan, slowly beginning to feel the slick that is starting to form between your legs. Ellie does too because just a moment later, she lets her hand fall flat against you and collects some before dragging it up your folds to tell you you're already so fucking wet.

Ellie's fingers find their place against your clit, beginning to swipe back and forth quick enough to knock all the shallow breaths you had just begun collecting and try to grip onto the fitted sheet of your bed.

Her fingers grazed over and over and over that burning nub, picking up her pace before kissing your neck that had lit itself on fire with her touch. Like you were a piece of paper, so fucking fragile and catching ablaze with the flicker of a lighter.

Your hands are desperate, trying to reach for any part of ellie you can grasp. Her hip catches your fingers first, then resting against the fabric of her boxers that are bunched into your fist as she continues swiping against you.

The moan floats from your lips before you're ready, and the wetness floods through you as Ellie suddenly realizes too, her fingers easily slipping through your drenched folds and curling just at the right angle to drive your eyes open. She's already staring at you.

Your breath hitches when she pumps quicker, sending a hot thrill through your spine and up your throat with a series of shallow breaths that echo in her ears like a song. Her favorite melody.

"Ellie," you breathe, and she silences you with the soft feeling of her lips on yours.

"Shh." she whispers against you, and your eyes hood with the dizzying sight of hers. The emerald green and small hue of hazel that ringed her pupil.

A soft fuck, muttered from your lips a moment later when her hand had shifted against you again and collected more of you in her hands, letting it slide down her fingers and pool against the top of your cunt.

Ellie's slender fingers are musical- striking chord after chord of moans out of you that resemble her favorite song, your voice soaking into her brain like a catchy chorus that is bound to stick around on the inside walls of her head until she can hear it again.

And when she does, there's a click inside that reminds her this is it. You know this sound well.

And she does, oh she does. Because it's not long after that your eyes are clenching closed and your breathing falls heavy with every quick swipe against your clit, rolling you over that edge of an orgasm until you're clenching around nothing and murmuring Ellie's name like it's your own.

"Ellie, Ellie, Ellie."

And she places a piece of hair that has fallen in front of your face back behind your ear and lets her hand linger there until you grab a hold of her wrist to help you come down from your dreamy high.

"I got you," she says, and her voice is so soft, coating you in goosebumps the second it relishes in your ears.

God, she was so good to you.

"That's it," she hums. And her pace begins to slow, meeting you with the rise and fall of your chest as you fall further and further.

One last moan exercises out of you, leaving you to quickly realize what just happened.

And realizing how much you were sweating. the back of your legs were coated along with your chest and exposed collarbone, and you quickly began to cook from the inside out- you needed to cool off.

"Let's take a shower," you whisper, looking up at Ellie who had the same love struck grin plastered across her face that you did.

She nodded once, and then planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek before you broke into a low fit of giggles.