#what happened to your mustache?

[buddiedaydreamer911]

idk who had the thought that gave us eddie during the last two minutes of this episode. but whoever it was, i hope both sides of your pillow is cold forever and ever. i’ll never be able to thank you enough for that scene. i’ll be thinking about pantless eddie for eternity.

[uncanny-tranny]

One thing I really enjoy about transition is when the changes in hormones slow down...

It feels like I am a house settling, shifting ever-so-slightly, and becoming one with this new foundation.

I don't have a "typical" body, but so do the other guys in my family. I look like them now. I've been told I looked like my father when he was a teenager, and I feel as though I am in the mentality I need to be in.

So many people are excited when they get all these new changes all at once, and then they might become disappointed when their second puberty starts to slow down, but I find I am the opposite. I am so much more at peace than I was before, and that's saying something when I was at peace a month into my changes.

[lanternlightss]

nameless bard kissing venti’s nose and venti leans in and scrunches said nose like a cat. source: trust me

[clouds-of-wings]

Swedish language children's show about insects running a hotel in a mushroom. I searched for this far and wide a few years back, but had no luck. It seemed like my only option was to travel to Göteborg and rent the single, singular DVD they had at a library there. But now someone put it on YT!

In the first episode we pay homage to birds and learn that the hotel has no indoor plumbing, which is probably realistic for a hotel inside a mushroom. The existence of an insect-sized human with a high quality camera for bird watching leads to as many disturbing implications as the whole "Why do Pluto and Goofy get treated so differently?" thing in Ducktales, but let's not go there. Let's just watch the whimsical kids' show.

[audarcy]

Me in the shower thinking about my wife: i think one of the big reasons why het culture "wifey/hubby" "his/hers" "tiaras/mustaches" matching sets shit bothers me so much (other than the reductive binarism of it all) is that it reveals the thought process driving heteropatriarchy propaganda wherein ideal love is a product of inversion; two puzzle pieces that fit together but are separate and made functional solely by the utility of their differences. Heteropatriarchal love retroactively redefines a person as a half of a whole, their functions and idiosyncrasies only valuable when curtailed by another's. But more than that, heteropatriarchal love is so divided. My "hers" towel and your "his." Married on a friday because saturdays are for the boys. Your woodsmoke-scented deodorant and my lavender. We cant possibly hope to understand each other and that's what lends our partnership value, somehow. But the love i cherish--the love that nurtures me--is inextricability. Not the teeth of your personality spinning the cogs of mine but the blend and blur of our edges together. The further in the tide rolls the better. The love that nurtures me is accepting everything about you into my life even if i dont feel the same way about it that you do. Its a becoming. Becoming you, becoming myself, becoming us, again and again. There are no puzzle pieces to snap together, and im no more or less of anything with or without you. But no matter what happens i carry you with me now. Even in the small ways like how we wear each others jackets and deodorant and hats. I wear your mannerisms, and your jokes. I have your interests. You have my music taste. We subsume and consume one another. We explore each other by exploring ourselves and vice versa. The process of loving you is a mapping of a vast expanse and it is the creation itself of that expanse, ad infinitum. Loving you is a fluidity of the self. I try out new ways of living through you. I see through your eyes. My life doubles by virture of sharing it with you. We finish each others sentences and joke that were the same person but its truer than we have the language to describe. My selfhood blurs into yours; Im not half of a whole, but together we are a whole. You could draw a straight line from one end of me to the other end of you, no breaks. And why shouldnt we travel that line? Step inside my head and get comfy. Mi casa es su casa. Youre me and im you.

What comes out of my mouth when she walks into the room: id let you wear my skin if i could

[littledes1re]

Neighbours help

Pairing: Neighbour!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Summery: when your Fridge breaks down in the middle of the day, what can you do other than ask your grumpy old Neighbour to fix it? aka thigh riding🫠

Warnings: 18+, praise kink, pet names, teasing, fingering, slight overstimulation, thigh riding, MEAN!joel, but a softie at the end, big age gap! (reader is 25-26/ joel is 60), kinda naive!reader, Dom/sub undertones, somewhat pervy!joel, mocking, joel embarrasses reader, reader get’s called dumb little girl twice, reader is really sensitive and cries in this, slight darcyphilia

A/N: I know nothing about repairing fridges y‘all. Also english is not my first language, feedback is very much appreciated. First time writing a bigger fic piece, bare with me please😭

Watching your neighbour sit down on your table after trying to fix the fridge in your apartment. His reading glasses on, looking trough the little instructions book that came with your fridge, a grumpy huff leaves his mouth. Your eyes fall to his white scruffy mustache and beard and then to his slicked back hair.

He looked so old— he was old.

Too old for you to sit there and stare at him while clenching your tights. But could you blame yourself? Grumpy face, pinched eyebrows, that tall and big build, his big biceps (you saw him once in a tight shirt in summer and your breath hitched), his ability to take everything into his hands and the stern demanding personality.

„What‘cha staring at, girl.“ he grumbled, clearly annoyed, his brown eyes landing on you.

Well, one contra point was, that he was so mean to you. Always rolling his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips, seeing you in the floor to your apartment, always having something rude to say even if it‘s mumbled under his breath. Always so impatient, never saying thank you and thinking he knows everything better than you. You tried your best to be nice and friendly to him, but he just didn‘t want you around, grumpy, irritated and so god damn—

„cat got‘ya tongue?“

You came back to your senses, realising you just have been staring at him like a fish out of water, mouth gaped and focused just on one spot. A little breath left your mouth, then a cough. Trying your best to be annoyed with him, you rolled your eyes.

„N-no. I‘m just waiting for you to finally do my fridge“ putting an attitude, but failing miserably because you were so so nervous around him.

„Can just leave, whenever I want y‘know…“ he starts „leaving you there with your rotten food in your fridge because we both know you can‘t fix it yourself, didn‘t even try it yourself, before coming up to my door bein‘ all ‚joel this‘ ‚joel that‘“

Oh he sounds so annoyed. But you can‘t help but feel more turned on than you already are, just the way he mocks you and knows that you can‘t talk back at him because you need your fridge to work again. He has a stern face on while he watches you, the little book lying on the palm of his huge hands. Your eyes slowly wander to his legs and torso, the way his lap looks so huge and so comfortable for sitting.

He coughed.

Your whole face turning red, you just wanted to crumble and roll into a ball so he didn‘t see you anymore. The worst of it all, his eyes landed on your tights and he saw the way you clenched them. There was no doubt he understood what was happening and you needed to get a grip and stop with those weird thoughts.

„Come over here and make yourself useful, c‘mon“

You stood up, your legs wobbling and the your silky short pyjama wasn‘t helping as he stared down your torso his lips forming into a little smirk, making you question his motives, scared that he will make fun of you again or worse, just straight up ask you what you want from him.

Standing besides the table you looked at him, trying your best not to look nervous and but it was all crumbling as he shifted in his seat and parted his legs just more, leaning into the chair and tapping on his thigh. Was he teasing you?

„C‘mere read this to me“ he tapped on his thigh again and your mouth dropped open. You looked at his smug face and then his thigh, not knowing that to do.

„Y‘have better eyes than me, girl“

So you moved around, holding on into his board shoulders, looking into his eyes and sat down on his lap. His hands gripping you, holding you tightly to make you sit comfortably, you moved a little bit, feeling his buldge underneath you grow. You don‘t even know what you were doing. As you comfortably sat down and grew silent, looking into his face, his eyes scanned your body, eyebrows pinching and he started…laughing.

„Dumb little girl, seeing a mans lap and immediately wanting to sit on it. Completely forgetting that I asked you to read this, huh?“‘

He held the book up, swaying it from left to right in front of you. Your face heat up again, blood rushing trough you because of what he called you. You couldn‘t help but buck your hips slightly, your panties earning a wave of gush, making him chuckle because now it was visible, your shorts were incredibly thin.

„oh i know. I know, baby. C‘mon turn around and read this f‘me will you?“ he cooed, making your shoulders drop your bottom lip turning into a pout and your inside‘s into mush. He rubbed down your back and pat slightly on to your bum, making you stand up again. Breathing heavy you stood there and looked at him, completely dumbfounded, not used to being handled like that.

He grabbed your hips again, sitting you down this time the right side, so the table was in front of you. His legs were together and you sat on top of them, your legs dangling from the sides and his head coming on your left side nuzzling into your neck, prepping few light kisses on your jaw and neck. The heat between your legs just growing more and more, feeling yourself get desperate for every touch he gives, getting dizzy at his smell and the beard tickling on your neck.

„There’s something written here in small print, my eyes not been the same the last 10 years, girl. Can make out what it says hm?“

His talking right into your ear sending shivers down your back, you wanting to just nuzzle into him more, not wanting to read and not wanting him to tease you anymore.

„mhm. S-says…—that it can happen that if too much food is in there, it can get too cold and it shuts it self down.“ you mumbled, your voice coming out small and shaky, even tho you didn‘t want it to be. Yes, he was making you feel absolutely feral but you still felt stubbornless, didn‘t wanna give in so easily but your body was betraying you. His buldge was just growing more and more against you. Pressing up into your wet panties, slowly but surely getting you off with just small movements on your clit.

Biting back a whimper, a moan, everything.

„Look at ya, can think well and do something you get told when you want it huh?“

You didn‘t answer, his hands on your body exploring your chest, rubbing circles everywhere, going down to your tummy, the warmth making you feel too much, you start to slightly move on his buldge, a whimper leaving your lips, another gush soaking your panties.

And he just laughs. Fucking laughs and goes back with his chair, suddenly removing his hands and you almost fell into the ground, holding tightly on the table, legs shaky and breathing heavily. You turn around angry, wanting to punch that smugness off his face. You felt embarrassment running trough your body, anger, but also a pulse on your clit, hating yourself for that, your body betraying you once more.

Feeling defeated you just looked at him, the fabric of your shorts now clinging with the wetness of your undies, totally visible. Tears coming up, trying your best to suppress them, that‘s what he wanted wasn‘t it? Just making fun of you for wasting his time like that, he couldn‘t stand you and you totally got off to that.

„Oh, poor baby.“ he mockingly coos, „standing there all embarrassed, with soaked panties and tears in your eyes.“

„Can y-you just go? you already did enough.“ you mumbled, deep down hoping for him not to go, to really mean it and to take care of you. But he wasn‘t that kind of man.

At least you thought so.

Suddenly his hands reached for the hem of your shorts, looking into your eyes a unexpected curiosity and genuineness. His eyebrows quirked up, like he was asking for permission, the room fell silent and he waited patiently for your answer. You could not longer take it, so you nodded your head.

His hand gripped your shorts and pulled them down, your hands coming and gripping his shoulders to balance yourself. He helped you get away from them and as you stood there with only your panties he took a good look at you, his glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of his nose as he enjoyed the sight.

„yeah, you need this“ he mumbled, suddenly thumbing at your mound over your undies, making you a whine leave you. You latch on to his shoulders just more, your shaky legs not knowing how to act as he rubs little circles on top of your clit.

„p-please. Just please“ you whimper.

„Begging an old man to take care of you, aren‘t you ashamed huh?“

You shook your head, no. Because everything was just forgotten but his fingers on your heat. He cupped your pussy, slowly sliding your underwear down, big string of sticky wetness leaving you, as you held your breath.

„God damn it, girl. Dripping like a faucet.“

Nodded your head impatiently, his gaze fixed on your pussy, while his one hand was palming himself trough his jeans.

„Just needed someone to treat her like the dumb little girl she is and she starts to absolutely gush.“

His words were spinning inside your head, the pleasure was too much to bare, you could almost feel yourself coming from his words alone, the tears and embarrassment long forgotten, you just wanted him.

„Sit down, not gonna repeat myself. That‘s all you will get“ he told you, stern, tapping on his thigh. You pouted, not liking the tone of his voice and not wanting only his thigh but his cock.

You slowly sat down on his thigh, him allowing you to get comfortable, your hands on his biceps, his hands on your waist stabilising you. After you sat down you could finally could take a good look at his face. The age spots, all those wrinkles, big puppy brown eyes and his beautiful white hair. You neared your hand to his glasses and slowly took them off, closing them and putting it on the table. His smugness was gone, but his eyebrows were still pinched, he still looked mean and grumpy.

While your juices soaked his thigh he cupped your cheek, wiping the almost dried out tears away, giving you a kiss on top of your forehead. You pouted, wanting him to kiss you on the lips, but he shook his head.

„Gonna give you something to pout about, if you don‘t stop. Y‘just need to get this little pussy off and that‘s all what i‘m gonna give you. Not want your annoying little ass anywhere near my apartment anymore, s‘that clear?“

The pout on your lip going away, a sting on your heart appears. He was just a mean man. He didn‘t want you and he still found you annoying. But that was quickly forgotten, as the pleasure was not longer to bare, you would take everything he gives you at this point.

„Uh-huh“ you nodded your head, but him noticing your disappointment also.

„Yeah, s‘a good girl.“ his hands gripped your hips, slowly but surely he started to move you on his thigh. The rough and textured jeans on your swollen pussy felt just right. You mewled; biting down on his jacket, his lips grazing on your temple „shhh, shh“ calming you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, suddenly becoming soft and sweet to you.

„please.“ you whisper, not even knowing what you are begging for.

„so desperate aren‘t ya, sweet girl. That no enough for you hm, my thigh?“ he coos, shaking your head fastly, scared that he will take away his thigh and leave you high and dry so it‘s better to just take his thigh and get off. In which he chuckled, while rubbing all over your back, your ass and stroking your hair simultaneously.

„joel..“ a whimper.

Your hips started to buck uncontrollably, chasing your high, while he helped you with his hands, holding your ass tightly, kneading it. You didn‘t had the courage to look at him, your eyes were squeezed shut as sweet little moans fell from your lips. Joel was concentrating on not to cum in his pants like a teenager, his gaze was on your face. Enjoying the way you were getting off, cheeks flushed, eyes all swollen you looked troughly fucked and he didn‘t even give you his cock. Yet.

„little pussy all rubbed raw and swollen…“ he murmed and this was all it took for you to release all over him. Gushing down his thigh, your legs shaking and moaning so loudly that joel put his hand on your head and brought you to his shoulder so you could bite down.

„That‘s it, that‘s it. Atta girl.“

You were a whimpering mess as he let you rode out your orgasm, stroking your hair and tapping his thigh.

„Was a good one, hm? Yeah that was a good one, baby.“

You mewled loudly, telling him to stop tapping with his leg on your pussy, earning a little chuckle from him, his leg slowing down.

„Too much, eh? So sensitive sweetheart.“

The room fell silent as you buried your head into his chest, small breaths leaving your mouth, his hands soothingly storking your back, noticing your sweet breaths just becoming slower and slower, knowing you fell quietly asleep on him.

Smiling to himself, his cock was stiff hard, leaking in his pants, knowing he will get off to this scene later in his room. Just like you always do, moaning his name and getting off. The wall were thin.

I think this picture with the glasses left us all in shambles✋🏻 reblogs are appreciated!! <3

Part two!!!

[terrifiedtrinket]

here have some wikihow screenshots that nobody asked for

[spxfav]

Wedding Night

Summary: After your wedding, you and Spencer head out to your suíte, expecting to have a movie-like wedding night. However, that's not exactly what happens.

Warnings: Reader referred to as a woman. Nothing much, actually, this is just very sweet.

Word count: 1.8k

a/n: This came to me as I was getting ready for bed at 7 A.M. after my graduation ball, and I kept thinking how it would be a realistic wedding night lol. Enjoy <3

Lace underwear, romantic music, candlelit room and loving whispers. Champagne and strawberries, maybe a bubble bath afterwards and falling asleep in each other’s arms. That’s how you pictured your wedding night.

The reality, however, couldn’t be more different.

Spencer’s hand rests on your lower back, huge smiles on both your faces as you stumble with the key card to get into the hotel room.

“I can do it.” You say, smiling ear to ear.

“I can see that.” He mocked, making you giggle as he leaned in, placing a loving kiss on your forehead.

You cheered, cheeks red from the alcohol when the door was finally unlocked, and he laughed and placed a finger over your lips.

“Shhh, it’s three in the morning.” His voice was a hushed whisper as you, once again, giggled against his finger and walked into the room.

It was beautiful, dimly lit with flowers everywhere and a gorgeous view to the vineyard you two got married in. As you admired the room, though, Spencer could only admire the woman in front of him. His wife. He still couldn’t believe he got to call you that.

He had this lovesick smile on his face as he approached, arms encircling your waist as he bent down to pepper your face with kisses, making you giggle as his mustache tickles your skin.

“You look so pretty.” He said when you turned around, his hand moving to rest on your face.

“You already said that. A million times.” You smile, eyes shining as you look up at him.

“I’ll say it a million times more.” He murmured, looking at you like you created the Earth itself, and kissed you. It was slow, tender. Like he had no rush at all. And he didn’t. Thankfully, you were his all night, and for the next fifteen days of your honeymoon. This was the first of many, many kisses.

"Have I ever told you how much I like this?" You ask, interrupting the kiss as your finger moves up to trace the dark hair on his upper lip.

"The stash?" He asks with a cocky smile and you laugh at the word, and the way his voice sounded whenever he tried - and failed - to use slangs.

"Yes, the stash." You say, your voice slightly mocking.

"Good thing I forgot to shave." He murmurs with a smile, bending down to capture your lips once more, his smile blending with his as your arms circle around his neck to pull him even closer.

His hand finds its way to the back of your head, tangling in your meticulously styled hair that he had been oh so careful not to ruin all day. The other palm, resting on your waist, slowly pushes you back towards the wall, his lips not leaving yours for one second.

Sliding down, you feel the heat of his hand moving from your waist to your hip, then to your backside, and involuntarily, you let out a giggle against his lips.

“What?” He asks, smiling as his mouth moves against yours.

“Naughty.” Your murmur makes him laugh, eyes twinkling with amusement as he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Excuse me?”

“We haven’t been here for five minutes and you’re already trying to get freaky.” The slurring in your words, the way you said it with your brow lifted like that, simply made him laugh more. "I think it's the mustache. There's a reason why they call it a pornstache."

“Mrs. Reid… Are you drunk?” His hands were back on your waist, his thumbs caressing your skin over the dress so tenderly. You smile widely, biting your bottom lip to unsuccessfully try to contain it.

“Just a little bit, Dr. Reid” Your fingers were brought together in a pinching motion as you showed him the visual amount of your “drunkness”.

“More than a little bit.” He smiled, bringing his own fingers up to open yours and make the quantity more appropriate.

“Okay, fair enough” You laughed, but your lips were back on his half a second later, and this time, it was you guiding you both to the bed.

The dress was heavy, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh when you sat on the fluffy mattress, the blankets blending it with the white fabric.

“What?”

“You look like a cupcake.” He says, earning a scoff from you and being attacked by a random pillow that was close enough for you to reach.

“Take it back!” Your voice was as serious as you could manage it to be, but the smile on your lips was a dead giveaway that you weren’t actually upset.

“Alright, I’m sorry. You don’t look like a cupcake.” He smiled in that charming way that makes your knees give out. Good thing you were sitting.

“Thank you.” Your face was already between his hands, and the pillow falls uselessly by the bed when he guides you down onto the mattress, his body weight pushing you down as you allow yourself to drown in his touches.

His tongue explores your mouth in gentle, languid kisses, and you were comfortable in his arms, enveloped by the smell of his cologne, laying on the soft bedding…

“Darling?” You blink, your eyes meeting his and that crushing smile “Are you falling asleep on me?”

“No…” You blink again, and this time, completely against your will, a yawn escapes your lips.

“So, you’re that kind of drunk.” His fingers gently brush some of the curls away from your face.

“Sorry. No, I’m good. I’m not going to fall asleep.”

“Sure you won’t.”

“I won’t.”

“I believe you.” No, he didn’t.

Spencer knew you well enough by now. You’ve been "happy drunk" for hours at the party, but that wave had long passed. Two more minutes in this bed and you’d be completely out of it.

“Honey” He smiles, caressing your cheek when your eyes start drooping again.

“I’m awake!” His laughter is so angelical, and you smile despite it all.

“Listen, we have fifteen days. We’re both exhausted, and I’m sure you can’t be very comfortable right now, in such a tight dress and with your hair like this. We can just sleep, it’s fine.”

“But it’s our wedding night.” You pout, and the look on his face softens.

“I know, but you’ve been up since six a.m.”

“Still. I can do this. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” He chuckles incredulously and takes your face between his hands again. “My love, you’re not disappointing me, not in the slightest. I just got married to the woman of my dreams, to the love of my life. I’ll have the rest of my life to have sex with you, one night won’t kill me.”

His voice was earnest, and his heart was light. He loved you more than anything, and the last thing he wanted was you feeling like you weren’t enough because you were too tired to give him a wedding night like the ones in movies.

“Let’s get you out of all of this, and then go to bed.” Before you could protest, he was already up, your body in his arms as he carried you bridal-style to the bathroom. Fitting.

Your laugh echoed in the room as your arms moved to wrap around his neck and hold you up.

“I can walk, you know.”

“I didn’t want to take any chances of you refusing.” He left a kiss on the tip of your nose as he placed you back down on the floor.

His fingers worked with expertise as he carefully removed the bobby pins from your hair, the pile growing and growing.

“Jesus, how many do you have in here?” He murmured, and you could only giggle as you looked at the reflection of the two of you in the mirror.

Next, came the makeup. Well, came off the makeup.

He still remembers how, every night as you wash your face, you use two products, smiling at him and saying “I have to double cleanse.”

The pads of his fingers massaged the oil on your eyes, melting away the mascara and the layers and layers of product that had been on your face since morning, reapplied to look fresh the whole time.

“You’re so pretty.”

“I probably look exhausted. I’m sure it was better with the makeup.” You smile, and his heart absolutely melts. How he loved that smile.

“Um, no. You’re pretty either way. You could be bald and painted in blue, and you’d still be just as pretty.” You giggle, but he was dead serious. In Spencer’s eyes, you were the most gorgeous person in the universe – yes, universe, because he was sure you’d still be a thousand times prettier than whatever other life form there is out there.

The zipper moves down slowly, and soon, the giant dress is on the floor. His mouth goes dry at the sight of you, his brain momentarily not working.

“See? I was prepared.” You do a little twirl, joking as you have no idea just how much the sight of the black lingerie affected him.

“I’m the luckiest man on the planet.” He murmured, almost to himself as he stepped closer, taking your face in his hands and pulling you in for another kiss, effectively shutting up whatever drunken ramble you were going on about.

This time, his lips were a little more desperate. He was a gentleman through and through, but come on, he was still a man. And with you looking like that in front of him? How could he react any other way?

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist it.” He murmurs, breathless when he finally pulls just the slightest away, the warm palms of his hands still holding your face in place.

“Don’t ever apologise for kissing me.” You murmur back, and you can feel the way the smile comes to his lips.

“Come on, darling. Let’s go to bed.” He picks you up again, and in – very pleasant – seconds, your body sinks on the mattress.

Spencer can feel the warmth of your body against his, the softness of your skin under his hands. He can feel the curve of your backside fitting perfectly against his hips, can smell your perfume and drown in the mess of your post-hairstyle curls.

“Honey?” Your voice was a soft murmur in the dark.

“Yes, darling?” His eyes were half open, his restraint holding him back from doing anything as his lips hover over the curve of your shoulder, so tantalisingly close.

“I’m not sleepy anymore.” The smile that takes over his lips is instant, his hands moving on your skin with a little more purpose once he feels your hips pushing back against his.

“Mm, that’s good.” He whispers and finally allows himself to place hot kisses on your shoulder and up your neck. “But I’ll go slow anyway.”

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 20 / epilogue)

masterlist

-

Black trees against a yellow sky at evening time. 

It’s late when you finally reach home. Dark enough to almost be night—a full day longer to return than it took to leave, but then you hadn’t ridden as hard coming back, too sore and sleep-deprived to manage the same pace. Even the meager sleep you got on the road was hardly sufficient.

Then the shape of your house appears on the horizon and you nearly break down in tears. The sight of it fills you with such relief that you nearly lose your balance, your head slumping forward. Too long. Days that felt like weeks, your body and mind weary from the long trek home. Against the gold of the horizon light, it appears like a boat arriving at port. 

You throw yourself off your horse and to the ground before John has even had a chance himself to dismount and come help you down. He stomps over when your foot nearly catches in the stirrup, nostrils flared and mustache twitching with his scowl. 

“Don’t go breaking your leg before I’ve even gotten you home,” he growls when he reaches you, fitting his hand around the nape of your neck and giving it a squeeze. You’d shiver, but your body is too exhausted for your libido to manage more than a half-hearted twitch. Instead you nod, head bobbing like a baby doll. 

John takes the horses to the stables while you clamber up the stairs on wobbly legs, headed straight for your bedroom, passing out the second your head touches the pillow. Your growling stomach will have to be addressed in the morning.

You aren’t conscious for when John comes up to join you, but you swear even in sleep you can sense his presence in the room. Certainly when he curls himself around you, the wall of warmth at your back briefly making your eyes flicker open before sleep claims you again and they slide shut. 

In the morning, you eat a big breakfast before letting John rub a liniment onto your inner thighs and bandage the cuts on your hands and face. The doctor he takes you to see after breakfast for the shoulder that Graves dislocated prescribes bed rest and light stretching for recovery and laudanum for any lingering pain. 

“What did you tell him?” you ask when the two of you head out for a light lunch in town before heading back home. 

“Told him you fell off a horse.” He shrugs. “Not that uncommon around here.”

All you can do is roll your eyes. 

Still, it’s as good an excuse as any. No one questions your story when you tell it to them over the following days, when your shoulder is still too tender for you to move it too vigorously. Only Kate lifts a brow knowingly, all but cornering you for the real story when you finally get a moment alone. 

“That sonuvabitch,” she hisses when you finally break and tell her what happened. 

“It’s fine,” you insist, shushing her. “John… Well, John handled it.”

She nods approvingly, then looks like she might say more before thinking the better of it. Silence falls between the two of you. 

“He—” you pause in the middle of your sentence, unsure of how exactly to say it. “It wasn’t so bad. Telling him, I mean.”

Kate must catch the slight inflection in your voice because she stares at you expectantly, waiting for you to say more. “…I’m happy to hear that.”

You inhale as if gathering your breath to say more, but nothing comes out. You know what it is you want to say, but it’s getting it out that’s the tricky bit. What you want to tell her is that your trust wasn’t misplaced in the end; all of your fears that the truth would shatter the affection and trust that had finally been shown to you after a lifetime of nothing were unfounded, proven ultimately wrong. 

“Was there something else you wanted to add?”

You chew your lower lip. 

“No. Nothing else,” you say in the end. There’ll be a time someday to tell her that her trust wouldn’t be misplaced with John or Kyle either; perhaps that day will come sooner than you expect, but for now it remains on the distant horizon. It’s not your place to lecture or admonish; your place in her life is to offer the same feeling of security and companionship as she’s offered you.  

Today, you loop your arm through hers and join her for lunch. 

In town, people greet you like you never left. Only one person asks you about the man you were walking with the previous day, and Kate covers for you when you stumble over your answer, throat constricting in your panic. There’s no suspicion in the question, but still you anticipate it because life has conditioned you to expect pain as a response to any action or inaction. 

You are surprised when pain doesn’t come this time. But still, you are wary.

When you get home, John fills the tub with hot water for you and lets you wash up on your own while he tends to the horses, the third now unofficially his. You lean your arms over the side of the tub and drift in and out of your daydreams, ears attuned only to the sound of his voice and the owls calling from the trees just beyond the house. Eyes fluttering shut until slipping deeper into the water kicks you back into wakefulness. 

“You falling asleep in there?” he asks when he stomps back inside, the door slamming shut behind him and nearly giving you a heart attack. 

“No,” you deny, discreetly wiping the rheum from the inner corners of your eyes. “Just resting my eyes.”

“Of course,” he snorts. Amused as ever by seemingly anything that comes out of your mouth.

A telegram comes in to the sheriff's office some weeks later asking about a missing bounty hunter, and though you pitch forward in your chair when John tells you this, he’s quick to remind you that as far as anyone else knows, Graves moved on after his first visit a month or so back. 

It takes time to reassure you, but slowly your hands unclench from the edge of your seat. 

Still, you make yourself scarce for a week after that. It takes some time for you to feel safe again. You spend those first few days after hearing about the telegram constantly looking over your shoulder, plagued by the worry that you’ll be found out. Sharing your worries with John doesn’t go a long way towards alleviating them because his confidence never wavers. It’s almost infuriating. 

“Would it kill you to just pretend?” you huff, cracking an egg into the skillet. 

“Nobody’s gonna come looking for him here. ‘Far as anyone knows, he made his way west a long time ago,” he says, dismissing your concerns while clipping his fingernails at the kitchen table. You scrunch up your nose when you glance over your shoulder.

“You better not think I’m sweeping those up.”

He barks out a laugh at that, shaking his head at the same time. 

True to his word, the front door stays shut. No one comes knocking looking for an errant bounty hunter. Perhaps that is a lesson that you can take away from all of this—that there is no reward for isolating oneself. Your safety has only ever been assured in community, in putting your trust in others and safeguarding their secrets in turn. Only love has ever held out its arms for you to fall into. 

And now the days pass like clouds in the sky. 

Tranquility hovers on the periphery of your life with every intention of calling out your name. It’s waiting for you with open arms. 

In the evenings, John takes you upstairs to the bedroom and pries you open enough to fit himself in. His mouth blazes a trail across your body, sucking your nipples until they’re beaded, wetting his beard with the essence of your pleasure, and bringing you to the brink of completion time and again before pushing you over. 

After a while, he leaves a piece of himself behind. 

Weeks pass and the seasons change. The changes you notice in your body are physical as well as emotional. At some point since coming home, you must have started to unwind. Shoulders loosening up, knots melting down your back. Is it just you, or does the air smell fresher too? 

You pin the laundry up on the clothesline and wait for your husband to come home. The sun sets earlier these days with autumn just around the corner. Already the leaves have begun to redden and brown, some breaking off from the branches altogether and floating to the ground where you know eventually they’ll rot and dissolve into the earth, starting the cycle of death and rebirth all over again. 

Winter is fast approaching and you know this one will be tough with a little one on the way. You’ve already started preparing for the winter months—canning and storing corn and potatoes and other root vegetables harvested from your garden, making preserves from the fruits of autumn—apples and pears sealed in jars of thick syrup—and filling the cellar with barrels of salted and cured meats. In town, you visit the seamstress for clothes of thicker material and leave with an armful of wool flannel petticoats, fur-trimmed bonnets, and corsets of a heavier cotton coutil. 

You rest a hand on your belly as you stare off into the distant mountains. Even the sky darkens earlier these days. When all of the laundry is pinned on the line, you pick up the wicker basket resting by your feet and bring it back inside, shuffling into the kitchen to get started on supper. 

There’s still much that needs to be done before winter arrives. Firewood to be chopped, furs and blankets to be hung on the walls, the fireplace to be swept, and more. Enough to keep you busy and your mind occupied when you aren’t bent over a book because that’s also your reality these days. The librarian in town now knows you by name and knows to set aside a few books a week for you to pick up when you pass by with Kate. 

You don’t think much of the knock at the door at first, absent-mindedly thinking that it must be a neighbor come to visit. Only when you open the door to an unfamiliar face do you pause. 

It’s a woman, not too dissimilar in looks from you. A bit taller, but otherwise if someone were to describe you from looks alone, they might be tempted to use the same words for either of you. She stands on your porch with a suitcase held by her side, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead from the short trip from town. She dabs her forehead lightly with a handkerchief before pocketing it again.

“Hello there,” she greets, a bright smile on her face. “I’m looking for John Price. I was told he lives here?”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her nonplussed, not understanding why a strange woman might be at your door asking for your husband in such a familiar way. It takes a moment for it to sink in. Then the light goes on and your confusion shifts to disbelief with a twinge of rage. 

“We’re engaged to be married,” the other woman hurries to explain, taking a step closer, foot wedged in the door almost as if intending to barge right in. 

Her gall nearly makes you lose your temper. Months ago, you might’ve welcomed her arrival, eager to prove to John that you weren’t the woman that he mistook you for so that you could be on your merry way. But that time has long since passed. There isn’t anywhere else in the world you’d rather be than here. You’ve put roots down, entrenched yourself in every way.

Your lips pull into a hard line, face set in stone. “You must be mistaken. He’s already married.”

She blinks, uncomprehending. “That’s…—are you sure? We’ve been corresponding. I know I’m a few months late, but I was held up back in—”

You cut her off by sticking out your hand, topaz ring shining bright on your third finger. “I’m sure. But thank you for stopping by; I’ll let John know you send your apologies.”

And with that, you shove her foot out with yours and shut the door on her face. On another day, you’ll allow yourself to feel guilty for your rudeness; for now, this is your happy ending to enjoy. 

And savor it, you will.

[gutsby]

My Body, His Choice

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: After a long day, Joel just needs some relief.

Warnings: 18+. Come get y’all juice (consensual freeuse). Unprotected p-in-v. Praise kink. Daddy kink. She/her pussy pronouns. Perverted but ever-respectful Joel.

Note: ‘Púdrete’ means ‘rot’ or ‘fuck you’ in Spanish.

Word count: 2.9k

It wasn’t often he’d fuck you anywhere but his bed.

At fifty-two, Joel was still old fashioned like that.

No matter how hard you tugged on the front of his shirt, begged him gently, baby, please take me right here on the kitchen table—on your desk—in your truck—really anyplace, Joel would shake his head and tote you away to his room. Then he’d blow your back out on a plush and cushy king-sized bed exactly how a gentleman should.

“Wasn’t raised to treat a lady any different,” he’d always say, sucking a breath through his teeth as he plunged his cock inside you from the comfort and quiet of his sheets.

‘Whatever you say, old man’ was your habitual response.

It was one that more often than not ended with you walking funny for the next couple days, thanks to that twenty-something stamina Joel was still able to boast.

So, with sore legs and a warm load leaking out of your cunt every night, you shut up. You didn’t mind being confined to his bed if it meant getting fucked like that. But you would let him know, every now and again or as often as you happened to be ovulating, that there was a freestanding offer for him to just…take, if he ever felt so inclined. The first time you’d said the real word for it, Joel had just smiled and kissed you on the top of your head.

“I’ll sure keep that in mind, sweet pea,” he’d chuckled.

Or, in boomer-speak: ‘No way in hell am I doing that.’

You’d made your peace with it. You’d quit wearing open-gusset undies in the hopes of getting bent over the sink while doing the dishes on a random Tuesday afternoon. You’d put all thoughts of freeuse out of your head and now just waited patiently under the covers at night if you wanted some action on the go. That was more than okay.

And when Joel thundered through the door an hour late one night, you just offered up a smile and a sleepy wave.

“Hi, handsome.”

You were splayed out comfortably on the sofa, and your favorite show was playing in a dim, muted glow on TV. Joel toed off his boots and ducked his head in the closet.

“I said he-llo, you big hunk.”

You regularly alternated between handsome, hunk, and some form of baby or beefcake if he appeared extra large that day. You hadn’t gotten a good look at his form coming in, but you figured you’d give it a stab, shoveling more popcorn in your mouth before returning to Narcos.

Somewhat garbled: “Well hello to you too, babycakes.”

It was either going to piss him off or earn you a big, wet kiss on the cheek—or both, if you were lucky. The words had scarcely hung in the air for more than a second or two, and your popcorn was going down in one slow, crowded gulp, when something fell heavy at your feet.

Your legs were stretched as far as they would go to the end of the couch, and Joel had just dropped his weight right next to them. Then he was leaning back, gingerly.

Carefully.

Joel groaned.

“God, he looks stupid,” he said, staring straight ahead.

You coughed. You winced at a sharp, lone kernel that had snagged your throat going down, and when it passed, you sat up and glanced over to where Joel was looking.

All you saw was a sexy, if not slightly anachronistically-mustached man with tight pants and a slutty stance onscreen.

“Javier Peña?” you asked him.

The man’s nostrils flared in response.

“With that stupid fuckin’ Members Only jacket— dumbass aviators, too, he looks like the biggest dou—”

“Joel!”

You blinked at your boyfriend in disbelief. He knew better than to abuse your favorite DEA agent right to your face. At last, Joel met your gaze, and his cheeks tinged pink.

“What? You wanna fuck him or something?” he snapped.

You turned back to the TV and pretended to consider.

“Hmmm…I don’t know, would Agent Peña come home an hour late with no explanation and then start griping about another man’s clothes when I try talking to him?”

“Yeah. And he’d probably backtalk you, too. In Spanish.”

“Púdrete.”

Joel scoffed.

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?”

You raised both brows as if to say, ‘Yeah, dude, fuck you.’

Maybe there was a smile behind your eyes as you said it.

You didn’t mean to give in, or let him off so easy, but there was just no grappling with a man in blue jeans and a sweaty, dirt-sodden shirt giving you a look like that.

His eyes smiled back.

You didn’t protest when Joel muscled his way over across the couch and pushed you back on your side. Yanking your hips to lay flush with his front, taking up most of all usable real estate on the sofa just to lie behind you and curl his bicep around your belly. He nosed against you and inhaled deeply. He hummed.

You spooned and watched Narcos in silence.

“Bad day?” you murmured at length.

“Bad don’t even begin to cover it.”

Joel let out a breath, and you felt it migrate through your skull. The whole weight of the world, or, more likely than not, some dipshits at work who’d cost their team a bid or delayed a project by a week, ten, or twenty, was hanging somewhere close over his shoulders and depressing his whole demeanor. His grip on you tightened even more.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

“Me too.”

Joel’s fingers seared a string of small crescents in your skin through the fabric of your nightie. Realizing he was pressing in too much, he eased back. Flexed his hand.

“Ain’t no need to be—it’s on me.”

You felt a kiss land on your shoulder. Your eyelids fluttered as a scene of chaos broke out onscreen with some ill-fated raid or other, and Joel’s hand traveled up your side. It cupped one of your breasts through the sky-blue satin material, and just as fingers began to knead—

“I don’t actually wanna fuck Javi,” you sputtered, dumb.

Joel kissed the space between your shoulder and neck.

“I figured.”

Then his index and thumb found your hardening bud and pinched it between them, rolling the skin in soft, languid strokes. That, paired with the movement of lips up the length of your neck, had your head lolling back gently and your eyes struggling to focus on any of the mayhem unfolding in time. You wanted to turn away from it all—meet Joel’s mouth with a feverish kiss of your own—but when your torso jerked the slightest bit, trying to move, the arm around your front kept you pinned to the spot. Joel’s grey, stubbled chin tickled the shell of your ear.

“Keep watching, darlin’,” he mumbled.

A low whine sounded in your throat, a noise Joel was no stranger to. It bubbled up, almost reflexively, and then was swallowed back as by force when his left hand shifted from toying with your nipple to joining the hem of your dress. Your breath hitched when you felt the pads of three fingers make an easy, careless sort of petting motion between your legs. Stroking you gently there.

“‘M’sorry I was late comin’ home,” Joel continued in the same attritional vein, gliding his middle finger between where he felt the seam of your folds through your dress, “Makin’ you wait up, wasn’t too kind of me, huh, baby?”

“D-Don’t mind,” you shuddered, just as the tip of his pointer finger found your clit and made a circle around it with the other two—a torturous loop that lacked just enough pressure to make it feel really good, and teased.

You would’ve liked to press on, were it not for him, again:

“Aw, hell, honey.”

Your eyes snapped open, and fear seized you momentarily. Had something gone wrong?

Instead, when you glanced between your legs, you saw a stain—a crude Rorschach-looking splotch in its place. With all rational thought currently suspended and your brain in a primal fog of just wanting to fuck, you groaned.

“Joel, please.”

You know what to do. You know what you’re doing.

Joel continued to carry on as though he hadn’t heard you. He rubbed the wet spot even harder with his middle finger and let out the faintest trace of condescension with his breath, fanning warmly across your cheek. It was as though you could feel his big, stupid mouth forming a grin behind your head that made you purse your lips together and force back a whimper when he pressed.

“Left a real mess missin’ me here,” he chided, voice low, “Poor thing hasn’t been fucked in…what, twelve hours?”

You imagined the spot growing larger, gaining warmth and wetness and slick from the timbre of Joel’s voice alone. Nevermind the fact he was practically smearing it all through your panties, through your dress; you’d be soaking his hand in a puddle if he didn’t let up soon.

“Then fuck it again,” you gritted, hips stirring.

“But you’re so busy watchin’ your new man, I—”

At the last, you bucked pathetically against Joel’s hand.

“Don’t want him, Joel,” you moaned, “I need you.”

With what little strength you had left, you tried to turn your body to face the man behind you. He didn’t let you.

In fact, his hold constricted all the more unforgiving, and his right arm curled around your front from underneath you while his left hand took the plunge beneath your dress, finally. It was as torturous as it was fused with any pleasure, though, as his fingers made a pass through your panties, between your folds, and into your heat with little warning at all. Just a kiss to your cheek and then two thick fingers working inside your cunt all at once. You writhed at the stretch, and Joel nosed you again.

“I said you’re busy, baby,” he shushed, “Keep watchin’.”

Keep watching.

Like that wasn’t the most nonsensical instruction he’d ever given you, with his arm twisted over your front and his face in your hair and his fingers pumping in and out.

In and out.

“Don’t care about the fuckin’ show, Joel,” you keened.

He brushed the heel of his palm against your clit, and you could’ve cried from the sheer influx of pleasure.

“Sure you do, sweet pea, you’ve just been so—”

Joel pressed another kiss to your cheek and kept going.

“—busy, lately, it’s only fair I get to have my way, hm?”

Oh.

Oh.

You hadn’t heard his belt come undone. You were so focused on your own pleasure, and getting it fast, that you hadn’t stopped to consider for a moment whether Joel might be testing his ‘free pass’ after all this time.

And, as if to dispel any doubts, Joel kissed your shoulder.

“C’mon, baby, let me use this pussy how I need to.”

He couldn’t have made your body any more pliant and willing than if your limbs had been made of wax.

It was all happening like a dream, almost too good to be a real, flesh and bones man with his hand in your panties, your man, pulling the fabric aside and making you lie on your side while he tapped the head of himself right there.

The hand that had once been toying with your clit was now lifting your knee, parting your legs to make space for him behind you, just outside of you—sliding his dick back and forth at first while he left trails of kisses down your skin. You could cum from the friction of that alone, the little squelches of his skin on yours and the fact that you weren’t in a bed, for once, and he was doing it now. He was making use of your body and cherishing it whole.

In spite of that gaping chasm between you in strength and size, he was obeisant, in a way. Painstakingly slow.

“This okay, baby? Can daddy fuck you right here?”

Joel pressed the head of his cock right against the weeping ring of muscles, felt it pulse against him, and groaned. He let just the cusp of your folds suck him in, forming the slightest, shallowest ‘o,’ only for him to retreat, moving his dick back up and down your slit.

You’d already cried and told him, yes, yes, you can fuck me there, daddy, please—but Joel was too busy tilting your head back up to the screen. Making you open your eyes and watch the show, loath as you were to focus on anything else but the soft, steady brush of his member.

“Remember, hon, you gotta stay focused,” he said, too sweet, “Chin up and keep those legs spread for daddy.”

They were. You were. Your head was up, just barely, and your eyes were nearly brimming with tears from just how badly you needed him inside you. You whined when he kissed the side of your mouth, but loved it all the same because it made you feel safe where you were. At ease.

Joel held you open for him, the shelf of his belly nudging at the small of your back and only pressing harder as he sank in deeper. It was a sensation that felt almost foreign, the first inches he’d breached, as he filled you from a new angle and held you close, you whimpered.

“Fuck, that pussy stretches out so nice for me,” Joel let out in a groan, “Feels like she’s made just for me, huh?”

At that, you felt a hand pinch both of your cheeks, forcing your mouth in a little pout as you nodded fiercely.

“Y-Yes, daddy, she’s made for you, all for you.”

One inch retreating, three more pushing in. Joel’s breath was hot on your ear again, and you could feel the soft grey tufts of hair on his tummy fold into themselves against your back as he pushed even deeper. His cock parted the insides of your walls and fucked you open like it was nothing at all. Your eyes stayed fastened on the television screen, but, frankly there wasn’t a thing on the LED display that was registering more than a passing thought. You felt the hand on your face squeeze even tighter, then release. Then your head was tilting sideways of its own volition, and your body was not—being moved by Joel’s gentle thrusts now—and your lips somehow met his in a kiss. One of his moans bled into your mouth.

“Look so. damn. pretty. when you’re like this,” he panted, “Never look better than when you’re fucked out on this cock, don’t ya, sweet pea? Nod your head and tell me.”

You nodded. You told him. Or whimpered it, anyway.

It was exactly the same and somehow nothing like you’d felt with him before: a new place, a new position, but then just the way you were letting him have you was a territory left entirely uncharted for you both. He could take, and take, and take, keep fucking you until his old joints gave out, and you were a vessel for that pleasure. Your body was limp; Joel’s frame was imposing and always holding you up, milking from your cunt what he needed and always praising you for how good it felt.

“My pretty girl,” he murmured, words like syrup. Then, each new one punctuated with a thrust as he sped up, “Gonna let daddy cum inside this tight little pussy?”

And, to his shock and yours, the hole he’d been using all this time grew wetter, more slick, then was pulsing with arousal as an influx of pleasure washed over your body—your brain had barely registered his words before the rest of you was making an even bigger mess of it, welcoming Joel deeper each time as your cunt spasmed over again.

Pressed into the sofa with your hips tilted down, now, you didn’t need to supply a verbal answer, just pulling Joel closer and pleading in broken moans to paint you white inside. He, like you, probably couldn’t have kept it from coming out if he tried. His hands were gripping your body, pushing you down with the weight of his grasp and his thrusts and feeling too fucked out to even know how much of himself he was pouring inside you as he came.

But it filled you to the hilt, all the way down his length.

In fact, there was a moment Joel feared he might’ve stuffed you more full of cum than you could take. You’d just barely come down, still moaning and shaking and dripping with more nectar than you’d ever felt before.

Joel tried to wipe the pussydrunk look from his eyes—terrible and greedy and wanting to see what he’d left—and he was just about to pull out to make sure you were alright, when he felt something grip him. On him and around him, pinching his wrist and squeezing his length inside you, you couldn’t help but turn back to face him.

Your eyes were smiling again.

One hand had just started to inch up his arm, kneading the flesh like you needed something from him then too. Only now your gaze was drifting down to the place where your body and his were still joined, and from that look, Joel sensed there had to be a lot of him there—which is why he was shocked when next you said sweetly, softly,

“Can I have a little more, daddy?”

[starkeyisthelastname]

using this again because he’s so dirty pornstar!rafe to me in this pic 💦😵‍💫

The camera would be right in your face, flash on and burning your pretty eyes from the harsh light that was on. Not that you cared about that right now. You couldn’t seem to find a setting spray or primer that held your makeup in place when Rafe fucked you. You looked fucked out, with dried mascara on your cheeks and glittery lipgloss smeared as he brutally rammed your hole from behind. The leather belt he had worn earlier was wrapped around your throat tightly, his hand yanking it every time you tried to run from him.

The camera recorded the nasty sight, Rafe’s bleach-blonde hair disheveled from the hat he had been wearing and thick mustache sticky with your sweet juices. He wore a dirty smirk, blue eyes looking at the camera as he watched your beautiful face completely cock drunk off his huge dick. He reached up with his free hand, gripping your jaw roughly to force you to look in the lens. “Look at my pretty fuckin’ slut gettin’ her pussy pounded. Fuckin’ dumb on the dick. Can’t even fucking speak.” He spat with a sarcastic laugh as you couldn’t say anything but let your mouth hang open in a fucked out trance.

The blinding flash, the crazy thrusts, the belt around your throat, it all had your head spinning and you knew you were about to cum everywhere. You gripped onto the messy sheets, your pussy fluttering as he yanked you backward as you tried to run from your orgasm. You couldn’t even get his name out to tell him, before he was giving you a warning himself. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Look at the camera. You fuckin’ cum when I tell you to. Run from me again and see what happens.” He rasped out, the video capturing the way the pussy slayer brutally fucks you.

[shockercoco]

Peas in a Pod

Elias 'Stack' Moore x reader

Warnings - swearing, fluff

Word count - 4814

a/n - this was supposed to be posted like two weeks ago after I saw the film, but I couldn't figure out an ending lol. I'm currently out for the summer so hopefully more time for imagines, but no promises. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading :)

Summary: After years have passed since the twins left town, you figured your feelings for one of them had dissipated and you had moved on, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

“I know that ain’t Pea I see,” you hear a voice say from behind. 

It’s a voice you haven’t heard in years, but it sounds just as familiar. You’re looking at the selection of produce in front of you, but you freeze at the sound. It only takes you another moment to turn around to reveal Stack standing there before you. 

You had been a friend to the twins ever since you all were children. You spent most of your childhood ignoring the chores your mama had instructed and hanging out with the twins instead. 

As you all got older, the boys started making a reputation for themselves, and of course your mama would tell you to leave them alone, but you never stopped. The twins weren’t that bad. Well, at least not around you. 

You would be lying if you were to say you never had feelings for one of them. After spending the majority of your life with them, it became inevitable and you found yourself developing feelings for the more eccentric twin, Elias, but everyone called him Stack.

It wasn’t a secret that you were closer to Stack, though everyone just figured it was because of Smoke’s more quiet and laid back demeanor. You never told anyone about your crush except for Mary, one of your close friends, and of course she encouraged you to confess, but you never did.

When the twins left home after their father’s death, you weren’t mad at them. How could you be?  You were happy for them. You knew what they had to endure, and you were just glad they took the first chance they had to live out their dreams.

You also thought your feelings for Stack would fade over time, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. 

“Stack? Is that really you?” You question, your eyebrows raised at the man in front of you. 

Stack’s hands are tucked in the pockets of his dress pants, which match the rest of his nicely tailored suit. A hat sits atop his head as he stares back at you with a handsome smirk on his face.

“Yes ma’am, it is,” he nods. He removes his hat as he takes a couple of steps closer towards you.

Stack was definitely in shape before he left town, but that doesn’t compare to how he looks now. You’re taken aback, but before you end up staring too long, you clear your throat to say something.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with that giant bush sleeping on your lip,” you joke, referring to the thick, but neat mustache growing above his lip.

You can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face as you hear him chuckle.

“That’s real funny. I should be the one surprised, though. I mean, look at you. You finally grew into that forehead of yours,” Stack smirks.

You scoff. “How dare you,” you playfully say as you fold your arms across your chest, your tone light.

“No, how dare you. The ladies happen to love how I look, especially the mustache,” he grins proudly, rubbing his fingers over the facial hair.

“What are you trying to say, that I'm not a lady?”

A loud laugh leaves Stack this time. 

“Well, if the boot fits,” Stack says, holding his hands up in surrender. He knows how much you hate him saying that. He watches with a smile as you roll your eyes and shake your head at him. “I’m just playin’, Pea, you know I’d never say such a thing.”

Pea was a nickname you had become stuck with after meeting twins. One day while the three of you were out playing as children do, an older woman that everyone knew from the church had pointed at how you all resembled peas in a pod. 

After that, Stack had decided to call you ‘Pea’ once as a joke to which you just brushed off. Somehow, though, the nickname stuck and ever since then everyone refers to you as Pea. 

Hearing that name come out of his mouth after these years makes your stomach flutter and your skin heat up, which only makes the hot summer sun feel worse. The sweat on your skin suddenly feels more prominent with Stack’s eyes on you.

You start using the hand fan you were holding to try and provide yourself with some relief.

“What brings you back in town, Stack? I know it isn’t just some friendly conversation.”

“And why can’t it be?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You give him a look calling his bluff, and he easily quits the act. “You still know me well, I see.”

“Unfortunately,” you smile.

“Smoke and I are openin’ our own juke joint. We figured we split up so I can recruit some entertainment while he handles some other business. Tonight is the openin’ night. That is, if we get everything situated in time.”

Your expression contorts in confusion. “Juke joint? Where?”

“One of the abandoned barnhouses not too far from here,” Stack responds, motioning in what you assume is the direction of the barn house.

“Where the hell did you get the money to buy all of that, and who was dumb enough to take it?” You ask, lowering your voice as you look around you.

“You know how those folks are—all they care about is the cash. It wasn't a problem.”

“And they just took your money like that with no questions asked?”

“Oh, the man asked questions,” Stack nods, “he just didn’t get the answers he wanted.”

The two of you are quiet for another moment, both work for the other one to crack, before you both burst into laughter.

“Still the same after all this time, huh?” you ask once you both settle down, although, it’s not really a question.

“I’m not changin’ for just anyone,” Stack responds, shooting you a wink.

Before the two of you could continue catching up, someone else runs up behind Stack calling his name. You didn’t notice how much the two of you were stuck in your own world until Stack turns away from you, breaking you out of the trance.

“What the hell do you want, Sammy?” You hear Stack ask.

Your eyes widen as you move to look around Stack’s frame, but your confusion turns into surprise as you take in the young man standing in front of him with a guitar hanging from his neck. “Sammy? As in lil’ Sammy? As in Preacher boy?”

When Sammy finally notices your presence, he gives you a shy smile and a tip of his hat. “Oh, Pea, what are you doin’ out here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing? Does your mama know you’re all the way out here?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“She knows I’m with the twins, that’s all that matters,” Sammy says.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” you give him a look.

Sammy opens his mouth to say something else, but Stack hits the back of his head before he could continue. Sammy lets out a yelp as he looks up at Stack, while one of his hands rubs his head.

“You better have a damn good reason for comin’ over here and interruptin’ us.”

“Slim’s gettin’ tired of waitin’. He said to hurry up before he changes his mind because he’s getting older by the minute. He also said that there’ll be plenty of time to talk to pretty women t’night,” Sammy explains, glancing at you for the last part, but it goes over your head.

You follow Stack’s eyes when he looks over to Slim in the distance, a harmonica in one of his hands and a bottle in the other. Classic.

Stack mumbles something that you can’t quite hear, before telling Sammy to run off and that he’d be over in a second.

“I usually wouldn’t listen to a drunk, but he’s right. Daylight is wastin’ and I got some other things to take care of before tonight,” Stack admits. “You’ll be there, right?”

Oh.

“And what if I had plans?”

You don’t.

Stack laughs. “Oh, really? What plans?”

“You say it like you don’t believe me,” you raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, no. I’m just curious about these plans.”

“I’m a grown woman, I don’t have to tell you anything,” you huff.

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Stack nods in agreement. When he realizes you aren’t going to say anything else, he continues. “C’mon, Pea, it’ll be worth it. There’ll be good food and drinks along with good entertainment.”

“I take it that Sammy and Slim are part of that entertainment?” You ask. 

You tear your eyes away from Stack and to the small crowd beginning to form around the musical pair. Even from a distance you can hear Sammy’s powerful voice accompanied by Slim’s skilled fingers playing his harmonica.

“You know I only like the best of the best,” Stack smirks. “So, what do you say, Pea? It’ll be just like old times.”

“Hm, I don’t know. It’s not safe for a lady at night,” you say.

Yes, you do want to go, but parties were never really your thing. You usually chose to stay home when someone asked you, especially when the twins would try to encourage you to sneak out when you were kids.

“And I’ll make sure you’ll get home safe, there’s nothin’ to worry about. C’mon, I know Smoke is bringin’ Annie, don’t make me be the only one without a date.”

“Oh, so that’s why you want me to come, so you won’t be alone?” you give him a look.

“Of course, why else would I want you there?” he plays along, trying to keep a straight face, but fails.

“There’ll be plenty of other women without a date there to keep you company.”

“Yeah, but that don’t matter if I want you to be the one keepin’ me company,” Stack tells you.

And just like that all of those feelings that you thought were gone resurface, fluttering through your heart and stomach.

You hesitate for a moment, before finally giving him an answer. “I guess I could come. Besides, I want to be there to see if this juke joint of yours fails.”

“Now, that’s just wrong.”

~

Later that night as you’re getting ready, you can’t seem to calm your nerves. It’s just the twins—it’s just Stack. 

And it’s not like it’s a date anyways because why would it be? Or maybe it is? No, Stack just invited you so you could keep him company and so the two of you could catch up. But, why do you specifically need to keep him company?

You’re checking your appearance in the mirror, stuck in your thoughts as you turn from side to side,, when Mary walks into your room already dressed and ready to go.

“By the time we get there, the damn party will be over. What is the hold up?” Mary throws her hands up for dramatics.

“Would you relax? The party doesn’t start for, like, another 30 minutes, and we don’t want to be too early do we?” You tell her, looking at her through the reflection in the mirror.

“I just figured you’d want to be early in order to have as much time with Stack as possible.” Mary smirks at the glare you give her. “I mean, it’s been so long since he’s last been in town, aren’t you excited? I would be.”

“I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.”

“Why, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you're nervous.”

Your silence is enough of an answer. You fiddle with your dress and adjust yourself in order to avoid looking over at Mary. Mary scoffs and walks over to stand next to you as you look in the mirror.

“Oh come on, you can’t be serious. There’s no reason you should be nervous over that man. You guys have been friends since birth-“

“Not birth, it was more like-“

Mary raises a hand to cut you off and finally makes you face her. “You know what I’m trying to say. You guys have practically known each other since the beginning. Stack knows everything about you and you know everything about Stack—well, that is excludin’ whatever the hell the twins have been doing these past couple of years.”

“That’s exactly my point,” you throw your hands up before taking a step back and placing your hands on your hip. “I mean, yeah, we’ve written to each other while he’s been away, but it’s been a while since we’ve actually talked face to face. It seems like he’s still the same, but if he’s not? What if he actually has changed?”

You can feel your nerves picking up at the thought of talking to Stack tonight and all the possibilities of how tonight will go.

Mary knows you like the back of her hand, and your overthinking doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Mary rolls her eyes. “Please, that man is exactly the same as he was the day he left here. Besides, you saw him earlier today, were you nervous when you were talkin’ to him then?”

“Well, not really, but I didn’t exactly have time to be. He snuck up on me while I was shopping and we just started talking.”

“Exactly, the two of you are so close that you started talkin’ like nothin’ has changed. Believe me, everything’ll be fine, and when Stack sees you in this dress, he’ll fall to his knees to propose. If he doesn’t just come and find me so I can handle his ass.”

You snicker as you walk away from Mary to finish getting ready. She follows right behind you.

“Relax, Stack is not going to pick me to propose to out of all the beautiful women in this town. Not to mention all the women he’s probably encountered during his travels.”

“A girl can dream can’t she? Just suckin’ all the phone out of my night.”

-

The noise from the juke joint can be heard all the way down the road, the sounds only getting louder and more clear as you and Mary approach. Your heart speeds up in both anticipation and nervousness as you take in the scene. 

Dozens can be seen either arriving on foot or by car, their excitement obvious from miles away. The land outside the farmhouse is packed with vehicles and it’s obvious there will be many more given the constant flow of traffic.

Cornbread’s eyes widen in surprise as he watches from the entrance as you and Mary walk up. He greets you with a smile.

“You two look gorgeous, but I’ll be damned, Pea. What brings you here? I know this ain’t your kinda scene,” he points out.

You playfully point at Mary, “You’re looking right at the culprit. She convinced me to come.”

“I shoulda known,” Cornbread shakes his head in amusement, but then his expression shifts to confusion as he looks at Mary. “Wait a minute, ain’t you married? What are you doing out this late?”

Mary folds her arms across her chest. “I could ask you the same, don’t you have a family to take care of?” Mary asks while folding her arms across her chest.

Cornbread puts his hands up in surrender. “Stack offered me a good amount of cash to be here tonight, I’m not turnin’ that down.”

“And I don’t blame you. Now, are you going to let us come in or are you going to leave two ladies stranded outside all night?” Mary questions.

Cornbread lets out a laugh, but quickly moves aside to let you both in.

The dusty, rundown appearance of the barnhouse from the outside is a completely different vibe from the atmosphere on the inside. 

Slim is playing his heart out at the piano at the front of the room while people laugh and dance to the music. Lights are hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the space as guests move around freely. The mouthwatering smell of freshly fried catfish fills the air along with the smell of sweat and alcohol.

“Wow, the twins definitely outdid themselves didn’t they?” Mary admits as the both of you take in everything.

“They really did,” you murmur mostly to yourself, your mind still stuck and amazed at how Smoke and Stack pulled this off.

“We can’t start dancing without a drink,” Mary smirks.

“Yeah, you can, it’s easy,” you say.

Mary gives you a look before saying, “Well, if you’re going to talk to Stack, you’re gonna need a little something in your system.”

You open your mouth to object, but you decide against it.. Alcohol does loosen you up, which would help you get through the night.

When Mary doesn’t hear a response, she pulls you towards the bar. After Mrs. Chow hands you both your drinks, the two of you decide to linger at the bar.

“Is that Lil Sammy over there flirtin’ with a girl?” Mary asks you. 

You turn to look in the direction of Mary’s eyes to, sure enough, see Sammy flirting with a woman—a woman who looks a little bit older than him.

“Isn’t she married?” Mary continues.

“Well so are you, but you’re still here tonight,” you say. 

This makes Mary whip her head back towards you and send you a glare, one you pretend to ignore as you take a sip of your drink and pretend to be really interested in the guests dancing to the music.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says after you don’t respond, before a smile grows on her face.

Suddenly you hear a gasp come from behind the bar, catching your attention and making you turn around. You see Smoke, Stack, and Annie come from a back room.

“Am I seein’ things or is that really Pea standin’ in front of me at a party?” Annie smiles, her hands on her hips.

You playfully roll your eyes. “No, you’re not seeing things.”

Annie makes her way from behind the bar to give you a hug, and after she pulls away, Smoke comes up to do the same. The way Stack looks you up and down as you hug Smoke goes unnoticed by you but not by Mary as she watches with a smirk. Stack notices Mary’s eyes on him and quickly clears his throat.

“I’m glad you came,” Stack says, smiling at you as he comes up to hug you last.

“Well I couldn’t miss the famous Moore twins’ big grand opening,” you beam, motioning to the large crowd that has formed. Smoke smiles at your compliment. “I don’t know how you guys pulled it off, but everything looks great. I’m impressed.”

“Nothin’ is too out of reach for us,” Smoke adds with a nod. Stack claps his brother on the back as a sign of his agreement.

“Alright, enough of this lovey dovey shit. Let’s get this place poppin’ like fish grease and get it started for real!” Stack exclaims with a smirk.

Stack walks over to Sammy, pulling him away from the woman he was talking to and motions to the stage. As Sammy joins Slim at the front, people begin to gather around to listen. 

Now, you knew Sammy was talented, but watching him sing his heart out and play the hell out of his guitar gave you goosebumps and made you emotional.

It was obvious that you weren’t the only one who felt this way as you notice everyone’s expressions change as they begin to cheer and clap while they move their bodies to the rhythm. Close friends, couples, and singles make their way about the room.

Much to your dismay, Mary pulls you into the dancing crowd. You’re uncertain of what to do with yourself at first, but after seeing everyone in their own world, the body movements just come naturally. 

You watch with admiration and a smile as Smoke grabs Annie to join him for a dance. Even after all of that time apart, Smoke and Annie still seem to be as in love with each other as the first day they met. The little bit of alcohol you have on your system does make a difference.

Your eyes wander just a little bit to the right and you see Stack dancing with two women. It’s no secret that the twins are attractive, but oh how you wish for just one night where women didn’t climb all over them—mainly Stack.

After a while, you become overheated and overstimulated with all the hot bodies surrounding you. Once you tell Mary that you’ll be back, you leave to find a place to take a breather.

You come across a set of stairs and somehow find yourself overlooking the inside of the entire building. 

You catch sight of Mary from your spot and laugh to yourself at how easily it is for her to find some stranger to dance with.

Eventually, someone else makes their way up the stairs and stands next to you. Your nostrils become aware of him before your eyes do.

“Too much goin’ on down there?” Stack asks as he leans on the railing and takes in the view.

“Just needed a little break,” you shrug, your eyes still on the crowd below you. “What about you, don’t you have some guests to entertain? This is your place after all.”

“As an owner, I have people to do the entertainin’ for me. I just make sure there are no problems,” Stack responds, the smirk evident in his tone.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence that grows between the two of you. Earlier you were stressing on what would happen once you saw Stack, but here he is, and your heartbeat is still somewhat calm.  

“How’s everything, Pea?” Stack asks, breaking the silence. 

“Oh, you know, just getting through day by day and taking things slow,” you shrug.

“What are you up to these days?” 

“Helping my mama out with the shop most days. When I’m not working I’m running errands around town or helping others out.”

“How’s the shop and your mama doin’?”

“Mama’s great. Her happiness really comes from the shop and being able to have a safe place for people to come back to over and over again. We’re still getting plenty of customers, and we’ve recently renovated it.”

Stack nods along. “That’s good, that’s good. How are you doing though?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You already asked that.”

“I phrased it differently this time, though. First time was more of a casual ask and this time I wanna know what’s really goin’ on with you.”

You’re slightly taken aback by his forwardness, until you remember that this is how Stack has always been.

Stack turns his body to face yours, keeping an elbow on the railing. “Come on now, Junebug. It’s been a long time since we’ve sat down and talked down and talked, y’know?”

“Is this really the time to be having a conversation like this?” you ask.

Stack is quick but genuine with his reply. “For you, there’s always time.”

The nerves the alcohol had been holding back, finally hit you with full force after hearing his words. Your heart rate begins to pick up, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of the high temperature in the building. 

You wish you had brought a fan with you.

Stack’s eyes never leave yours as he waits for an answer, not even when you hear a glass bottle break somewhere in the crowd below you. 

You give him a shy smile, but you have to tear your eyes away from him.

“I’m fine, really Stack. You know, you never told me exactly how you got the money for all this.”

Stack scoffs. “I know you didn’t just try and change the conversation.”

“It worked didn’t it,” you laugh. Stack shakes his head in disappointment, but he can’t help the laugh that slips out.

“That’s alright, Pea. There’ll be plenty of time to talk since Smoke and I aren’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon.”

Your heart flutters.

“Really?” you ask, and you wish you would’ve been able to stop your voice from changing pitch. 

Damn.

“Just admit that you missed us,” Stack smirks.

“I don’t know, I mean, I feel like everyone’s life has been calm without you and Smoke being here to terrorize everyone.”

“That was one time! Plus, Jimmy had it comin’. I can’t let anyone steal from us and just walk away without a scratch,” Stack throws his head back as he laughs.

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you had to chase him all over,” you join in, beginning to double over in laughter. 

“It was either me or Smoke, and that boy Smoke was fumin’ when he found out, so it was better that Jenkins dealt with me instead of him,” Stack snorts.

“Whew, I remember that day like it was yesterday. Y’all had the whole town confused with Jimmy running by screaming bloody murder.”

“And I hadn’t even done anything to him yet!”

You clutch your stomach as you try to collect yourself, wiping the tears from your eyes as you blow out a breath. Stack does the same alongside you. 

“I really did miss you, y’know,” Stack admits.

And there goes your breath.

“Of course you did, why wouldn’t you,”you say, causing Stack to smile, “but I’m sure you and Smoke had plenty of fun on your adventures with seeing new places and meeting all those new people. You didn’t meet any women after all this time?”

“There were a few women, but none of 'em kept me interested.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, yeah, I forgot who I was talking to for a second. No one is good enough to tie you down, right?”

Stack pretends to think to himself for a second, before speaking, “Well, there is one person that I’m thinkin’ about.”

Your heart drops so low it almost hits the first floor of the barnhouse.

You clear your throat and keep your eyes in front of you. “And does this woman know that you like her?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What makes you say that? I’m sure you’ve made your flirting pretty obvious.”

Stack has never been one to keep his feelings to himself. If he sees a lady he likes, he’ll pursue her and most likely succeed.

“She’s on the shy side, so I don’t think she realizes. She keeps to herself and thinks others don’t notice her.”

Who has he been hanging around with? Didn’t he just get back in town. 

“I’m sure she does.”

“Nah, I don’t think she does,” Stack shakes his head with a sly smile. “You wanna bet?”

“I don’t have anything to bet, but sure.”

“How about if I’m right and she doesn’t know, then you have to dance with me,” Stack smirks, raising his eyebrows at you.

“And if I’m right?”

“What would you like in return?”

You contemplate for a moment. “For you to tell me in detail how you got the money to afford this barnhouse.”

Stack rolls his eyes. “You’re on.”

“So, who is it?”

Stack turns toward the railing once again, a teasing look on his face. “You sure you just don’t wanna know because you’re jealous?”

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

Stack chuckles in response, before going quiet. Then, there’s a moment of silence where you give him a look as you wait for an answer.

“You.”

You.

You feel your heart stop. “Me?” you ask, not fully believing him yet. Stack gives you a nod, and you try to look for any sign of lying on his face, but you can’t find any. “Stack, be serious for a second.”

“I am, Pea.”

All of a sudden, the music being played in the background just sounds like noise. You feel nauseous, relieved, confused, and happy all at once. 

“What the hell do you mean?” you ask. Your voice is quieter now as you look up at him. 

Before Stack could give you an answer, he’s interrupted by a voice from down below.

“Yo, Stack, come on down he-!” Sammy shouts, but cuts himself with the look that Smoke shoots at him. 

Stack clenches his jaw and whips his head towards Sammy. “Sammy, I’m gonna come down there and beat your ass. You need to learn when to read the room. Matter o’fact, I should come down there and break that damn guitar.”

“But you gave it to me.”

“And now I’m about to come take it away,” Stack replies causally. He makes a move to turn and walk down the stairs, but stops himself to look at you. “We’ll finish this conversation later, I promise,” he tells you, before giving you a quick wink and continuing down the stairs.

Then you hear, “Don’t run now, Sammy.”

Mary’s eyes meet yours from below, giving you one of her signature smirks. 

Like what you see? Check out my masterlist :)

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, step cest, none of reader's holes are safe

fem reader

Thinking about step-daddy who only married your mom to get closer to you... who thinks an unruly brat like yourself needs his firm hands and teachings to set you on the right course.

You can't believe what’s happening – can’t believe his words.

Your mind is caught in a frenzied state of denial and panic as he forces you down on your bed after you'd told him to get the fuck out of your room when he walked in on you getting dressed to go out, standing there in only a dainty set of panties.

You brace your hands against his broad chest as he bears down on you – trying to create space for you to breathe but achieving little else than if you’d been trying to lift a mountain.

He’s too big and too heavy – too strong.

He doesn’t even bother restraining your fists – not even when you start banging them against him. It’s as if he doesn’t even recognize the assault – busy burying his face in your cute cleavage, nuzzling the soft mounds with sloppy kisses and his bearded chin.

“Stop it!” You hic through tears – sobbing now that the pursuing events dawn on you, coming crashing down, wreaking through your brittle head at the feeling of your panties being tugged down your thighs – flimsy lace splintering before getting ripped off.

He disrupts your cry with a firm hand, taking hold of your chin – and you fall still in wait. 

“You' gonna let Daddy eat your pretty pussy out if you know what's good for you…” His lips brush yours with the vile threat while his other hand cups your bare cunt – whispering ruggedly, “Or I might just have to put you over my knee.”

You’re frozen beneath him – eyes shimmering with gloss, staring up into his impossibly dark stare – feeling leveled under the burden of his threat.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetpea? Y’gonna behave for Daddy? Or am I gonna have to use my belt on you?”

You stay still, and he takes it as your answer – smiling at you before placing a quick kiss on your cheek. 

“That’s Daddy’s good girl~”

Leaning back, he wrings his shirt off over his shoulders, revealing his bulky chest of curls and worn skin before throwing the article aside and looking back down at you with drunken eyes that give you shivers. His old muscles are flecked with age but no less brutal to behold – all intimidating enough to make you swallow thickly.

“You can cry out all you like, pretty girl~” He grins as he takes your thighs in his hands – lifting them, spreading them, then pushing them flat down against your chest – tipping your cunt up to his mouth. "A good girl knows how to scream." His breath is ticklish on your exposed sex. “But the only words I wanna hear come out of your mouth is – yes please, daddy – more please, daddy – and pretty please, daddy, can I cum?”

You whine when he licks a stripe through your folds – dark eyes glinting at the sound, chuckling hotly under his breath.

“Walkin’ ‘round my house dressed up like a little slut – teasin’ me all day long.” He gruffs. “Tch – this pretty cunt’s gonna get what you’ve been beggin’ for, and you’re gonna take it with a smile – understand that, little lady?”

Your toes are immediately curled, gripping the air for purchase as he buries his face in your muff. And he’s messy with it – spitting, then slurping it up again – splitting the lips to suck your clit, then pressing a deep kiss into it – tongue flatly running over the pearl, lapping at it like a dog. All with a heated glare – hungry like a starved animal – eagerly set on your face.

You squeeze your eyes shut to avoid it, lip caught between teeth – trying to stifle all moans.

But the folded position he has you in presses you free of air – soon leaving you to pant out like a silly bitch in heat – thighs wanting to squeeze shut but kept pinned and trembling in the harsh grip he has on them.

“Oh~ look at yah~ my little slut~” He hums between licks, a grin still slickly plastered on his face – mustache glistening with drool and arousal. “Must feel good to make you tremble like that – does my little girl wanna cum?”

You whine, trying to shake your head in denial – but the pressure builds whether you want it to or not – squeezing tight like a fist in your gut, desperate to unknot.

“Better ask for Daddy’s permission, or I won't be happy.” He adds, giving your thighs a pinch – hard enough to make you yelp – sure to leave bruises.

“Ah – no.”

You don’t want it – you curl your head to the side with a grimace.

You feel gross – reeling as his tongue circles your hotspot, unable to deny the tickle in your gut – recognizing the blossoming, knowing you’d soon bloom.

“Mgh," You whine. "Yes, please! I need – can I please cum?!”

“Call me Daddy.” He demands, talking into your cunt while nuzzling his nose against your clit.

“Please, Daddy – please, can I cum!”

Another chuckle makes you shake – almost impatiently – before he purrs, “Sure, baby – go ahead – make a mess~” 

He gives your clit one last harsh suck before sticking his tongue inside you, deep with a grin, while feeling you tremor on it, tasting your sweet release like it was a victory.

You throw your head back and your chest up – whole body quaking – trembling at the thrill pulsing from your core, zipping along each limb – leaving you feeling cottony and numb from the pleasure.

You pant with softer moans when it dissipates – still feeling twitchy.

Hooded eyes with teary lashes fall from the ceiling to his face – then regret it.

The shame washes away all pleasure – making your sweat go cold.

But if he sees it, he doesn’t care. “That was beautiful, baby girl~” He moans instead, eyes still keenly set on you.

You cringe, chagrined as he kisses your slit once more – tonguing the slick opening and humming at the sweet taste.

He finishes you with a sharp kitten lick flicking off at your clit – then releases your thighs. Pulling you with him as he got up on his feet by the edge of your bed.

“C’mere – on your knees.” His fist wraps your hair – tugging your head back. “Open wide and tongue out fo’me. It's my turn.”

Your brows cinch, feeling your scalp sting from the grip, making you timidly obey.

He groans at the pretty sight – looking so cute with that dewy glow on your cheeks – plush lips wet and welcoming – pink tongue trembling in eager wait of him.

Sighing with a leer, “Such a pretty little thing~” His other hand zips down his fly, pinched free the button, and let the baggy slacks drop to the floor.

Thicker tears pool in your eyes – a horrid burn of humiliation making your tongue feel heavy, kneeling beneath him with your mouth gaping – knowing what was coming.

“This is what you wanted, right – why you've been acting like such a brat?” He pulls your face against the pudgy bulge in his boxer – warm and thick beneath the black fabric with a ripe smell of musk. “You wanna be Daddy’s big fat cock to satisfy all your greedy little holes, hm?”

You don’t close your mouth – the fist ripping your strands from their roots was warning enough to keep you pliant.

“Come on then, little slut~” He started cooing, nudging the sack against your tongue, dipping inside the warm opening. “Show me how much you want it – and don’t look away.” The smile on his face made your guts fold. “I wanna see those pretty eyes beg for it.”

He gives your hair a sharper tug, forcing out a whine from your throat. It spurs him on, making him chuckle – watching your eyes tremble up at him – struggling against his bulbous crotch, cuddling it so cutely, making him twitch.

Rasping out, “Such a needy little whore~” while his other hand dragged the band down.

Your mouth sealed closed on instinct – eyes too – shutting tightly once his cock sprung free. Whimpering when feeling it slug on your face – you tried to turn your head away – but was kept close by the hand fisting your hair.

“Bad girl, I told you to keep your mouth open and your eyes on me.” He sneered, pinching your cheeks open with the other hand – hard enough to make you wince.

You peeled your eyes open again – with tears slipping down your face as you dropped your jaw for him again.

“Playing games like a snotty brat.” He hissed, rubbing his leaky cockhead over your parted lips – smearing his pre on them like lipstick while you shuddered. “Look at you now, mmh~ such a good girl for Daddy~ taking it on your knees.”

He dabbed himself on your tongue, and you had to keep yourself from retching – tasting the bitter salt.

“Mmh~ begging for it like an eager little cum-junkie~” He groaned, lolling forward, cock sliding over the bed of your tongue and hitting the back of your throat in a soft kiss – only with half his veiny shaft in your mouth.

He licked his lips and threw his head back.

“I knew you just needed a firm grip – knew you’d make the most perfect little slut fo’me~”

You gagged when he started thrusting, hands positioning themselves on his sturdy thighs, fingers digging into the muscles as he stuffed your mouth full of his length – weighty balls clapping against your chin where spit started frothing.

He held your jaw in guidance – keeping you steady to receive him.

Throaty moans grated your ears as he abused the wet warmth – looking down at you and how you struggled, unable to take all of him. It didn’t bother him, though – the tight ring of your lips sucking along his veins was enough to make him go crazy.

It felt so right to be throat-fucking your pretty little face; he couldn't believe he hadn't done it sooner – creating such a cute mess all over you – looking so hot on your knees for him like this, with spit and pre cum slicking your face like a young prostitute in the making.

You obeyed as best you could – not used to the size or tempo. You'd given few blowjobs before and never been facefucked. But you figured the sooner you could make him cum, the sooner all this would be over.

He thought about it, too. He could cum down your throat like this, make you swallow – drink his seed like a good whore should.

But the idea is soon replaced by the thought of stuffing your sweet cunt instead – feed your womb his hot load – wear your tight pussy like it was tailored just for him.

He popped out of your mouth, and you coughed before heaving for air – panting – nearly barreling over if it hadn’t been for the grip he still had around your hair. 

Pulling you up by it – his other hand found your throat, and your mouth was taken by his – kissed hungrily with teeth pulling at your lip while tickled by his facial hair.

“Mh- c’mere,” He groaned into your mouth – plopping himself down on the mattress while pulling you along by the neck. “Up on my Daddy’s lap, baby.”

He continues kissing you, with both hands slipping down to squeeze each asscheek, rolling your hips back and forth on him, making your wet cunt grind against the stiff underside of his cock.

You can’t help but make a noise as it licks your sensitive clit, rubbing over it in wet warm strokes. You balance yourself against his chest – hands placed on his muscles – pushing yourself up from slacking against him.

You’re still breathless, left gasping – too weak to fight it when he leans after you, mouth on your tits, sucking your nipples into hardened little peaks.

Your hands go to the hair atop his head, gripping the locks to steady yourself.

He chuckles at the pull, looking up at you while rasping out a filthy “Is my little girl excited to get her little pussy stuffed by Daddy’s cock?” with a lazy grin carved on his face.

And before you can deny it, he’s already confirming the statement.

“You must be – your little cunt is so fucking wet for it.” He cheered. Hand slipping between you to slap his thickness against your slit – rubbing himself between the lips with a mocking pout on his lips. “This poor little pussy, cock-starved and empty~ I know, I know, you want to cum on Daddy’s cock, don’t you?”

He lifts your ass up so that you’re hovering over the tip – using the other hand to angle it against your entrance.

Purring, “Don’t worry, baby~ finally gonna stretch you out nice and tight~ fuck you into size like a proper cock-toy~ fill you up with my hot cum~”

You shake your head and squirm when he begins to nudge the head inside – but both hands place themselves back on your hips, gripping them firmly enough for it to find purchase.

“There we go, ease on down it, baby~ get comfortable~” He coos, even though you’re sinking your nails into the tough muscles of his chest – gasping at the ill sting of the stretch as he pushes you down despite the tight resistance. “Oh, fuuuck – so wet and snug on me~” He sucks his teeth, snapping his hips up to bottom out deeply. “Take all of me, now~ let Daddy bottom out~”

His head hangs back – Adam’s apple bobbing up with his mouth hung wide in a silent moan while you wince – desperately wanting to lift off. 

But he keeps you seated – tensely made to cock-warm him while slowly adjusting to the size – taunt walls rippling along his veins, sucking on it as it settles inside you, molding you to accept its shape.

He squares his jaw, then gives a breathy hum that makes his beard dance – lifting his head to look at where he’s got himself sheathed to the hilt – his eyes lost in it as he sets a slow pace – using both hands to steer your hips, rocking you back and forth with barely any lift to relieve you – keeping himself lodged just as deep – cozily kneading your cervix.

“That’s a good pussy right there – wet and tight and all mine.” He groans, lolling you on him sweetly. “Isn't that right, baby? This pretty pussy belongs to Daddy, doesn’t it?”

He watches your perky tits jiggle for him. Leaning forward, he gives it a suckling wet pop.

“Every inch of this slut’s body belongs to Daddy, isn’t that right, little one?” He demands a little harsher, threatening the nipple between his teeth.

“Ye-yes…” You whimper. 

It’s been a while since you’ve been stretched like that – it’s been a while since your insides have been given any attention at all. When you do it for yourself, you mostly just settle for playing with your clit – happy with one orgasm to take the edge off.

This is touching on more nerves – lighting other fires – different wells – tapping all sources – you’re leaking juices all over him, practically sopping, sucking him in – all but your head overly ecstatic for the attention.

“You wanna cum again – don’t you, my little slut?” He murmurs knowingly, giving your ass a harsh slap while pressing his forehead against yours.

He groans as he picks up the pace – dragging a moan out from your chest.

You want to deny it again like before – but the pleasure allows little else than to be appreciated with heavy shuddering breaths.

“Remember the rules, sweetie. Better beg permission, or you’ll be punished.” He warns.

You spot a grin forming on his lips – sharp like a knife – before uttering the next words.

“Better say, please let me cum on your big fat cock, Daddy~”

You scowl, trying to sneer, “Fuh-fuck you…” but your voice weakens to a whine.

Still, it’s unacceptable.

“That’s not how you speak to your Daddy. Bad slut.” A harder slap cracks across your ass – this time, making you yelp.

Your hair is pulled before you recover – and you’re thrown off his lap. Placed with your knees on the floor and your face in the warm and sweaty seat he’d just been sitting.

He stands above you – using a hand to pin your wrists to the small of your back while another hard smack is given to your already throbbing rear.

“If your pussy won’t follow the rules…” He licks his lips, looking down at the sight of you bent over beneath him, sobbing fat tears from the abuse. “Then this ass is next in line.”

You flinch with the words, eyes going wide. “What?” Already shuffling uneasily, gasping once his heavy hand came back to pet the welted cheek, branded with his handprint, giving it a firm squeeze that had you wince.

“It seems you don’t understand who’s in charge here…” He chided, with a coarse finger settling on the untouched rosebud slicked in pussy-juice, rubbing it slow and steady. “But I bet fucking your tight virgin ass is gonna make that crystal clear.”

“No – please no-” You plead, jostling weakly with your remaining strength – but the digit enters you anyway.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s too late to beg now – you gotta take your punishment,” He dismisses, digging knuckle-deep inside your butthole. “But to be honest with you… I was hoping you’d bite back like that.” He gruffs eerily at your ear. “I dream about putting your bratty ass in its proper place every night.” 

His finger twists and curls inside the hole, loosening it a little before skewering another two in. 

“Make you cry as I turn you into a good little butt-slut for me – get this sweet hole to gape for my cock to fill it up.”

He puts you in a headlock after pulling his three fingers out of your stretched opening – letting go of your wrists in favor of reaching under you to play with your pussy as he bullies his bulbous cockhead into the tight ring while you cry. With nails biting into your palms and your poor gushing cunt clenching around nothing.

He enters slowly, giving it shallow thrusts to fuck it open before feeding it another fat inch. Rubbing your clit between gritty fingers as he sinks inside you – burying his shaft within the snug walls of your tight ass as your hole gives in to his size, swallowing him up until he’s kissing your stomach with his heavy balls squeezed flush against your cunt.

“There you go, my little anal slut~ That’s Daddy’s brat getting taught her place!” He gives your butt another firm slap as he starts dragging out and stuffing you right back up again. “Getting her naughty ass spanked and propped with cock like a little whore~”

The fat arm squeezing your neck and the fingers swirling your clit make your head cloudy – even as your ass screams from the pounding, your cunt begs for the attention – milking nothing as it weeps with slick, running down your thighs into a little pool where you kneel.

“Aah- Daddy…” You moan through a sob. “Please…” Whimpering while you throttle his cock with your taunt ass, all but fucking yourself back on his shaft as he keeps rubbing your clit in steady patterns that have your cunt kissing the air. “Daddy, please – please let me cum…”

His chuckle is lazy and grating, feeling your cute ass swallow his cock all on its own.

“Y’know, only a real whore cums from having her ass fucked, right?”

You can’t help but buck your hips, shaking your ass like a slut as his fingers pick up the pace and rub your bundle of nerves in quicker circles. Begging, “Please…” 

“Oh, what a filthy little girl~ bent over like a mindless animal, fucked in her tight ass.” He patronizes. “Okay, my sweet little slut~ I’ll let you cum – but only after I hear you Say, please, Daddy, can I cum on your big fat cock~”

You’re too close to refuse. Desperation lacing your cute moans, “Ah – Daddy, please – mh-please can I cum on your big- ah – fat cock, please, Daddy please~”

He shoves three fingers in your cunt at that, curling them into your soft spot each time he pumps them inside, finger-fucking the sloppy hole until it spurts, making you scream while you squirt, drooling on your sheets like a mind-broken mess as your thighs and ass shake from the release.

“Good whore~ Remember to say thank you.” He mocks.

“Th-thank you – thank you, Daddy~” You mewl out cutely before he sticks all three slick-glossed fingers inside your mouth – fucking the tired opening as you pant out dewy moans around them, sucking them clean of your mess.

He keeps a steady rhythm, continuing to ream your poor butt until it's his turn to cum.

“Such a good slut~” He slinks out of your pummeled ass and slaps his wet cock against your face where you rest against the bed, all sweaty and dumb from your orgasm. “Come’ere, cum-baby, tongue out as you look up at Daddy~”

He smiles, smothering you between his fat thighs while his balls cover your face, pulling back to tap the tip on your lips.

“Here it comes!”

White ropes lash your tongue, leaving a bitter taste – bejewelling your face with pretty pearls that melt down your smooth skin like drying paint on a canvas.

He groans as he tugs the last few spurts out of his balls, wiping the messy cockhead on your tongue.

“Aw, I gotta have a picture of that. Daddy’s little cum covered whore on her first day of training~”

He holds your chin, rough-handling your jaw between strong fingers as he angles your face to meet the flash of his phone.

Grinning as he sing-songs, “Say, all my holes belong to Daddy~”

Your expression is still dumb, softly blinking up at him with one eye weighed down with his cum, simply mouthing the words back to him. “All my holes belong to Daddy~”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Toji, Kusakabe, Shiu ♡ HQ – Daichi, Kuro, Ukai

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[morganbritton132]

(A little continuation from this post about teeny tiny Steve asking Wayne for help)

“It’s not a lie!” Steve insisted, grabbing hold of Tommy’s backpack strap so they don’t get separated as they filter out of the school building. “It really happened, I swear.”

“Superman really came to your house?”

“Not Superman. Not a superhero,” Steve shook his head. “He’s just has powers. I saw them with my own eyes.”

Tommy waited until the crowd started to thin out before saying, “I think you need to get your eyes checked.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I’m serious, Tommy. Mr Wayne could see through metal and had super-strength, and - and he can control electricity like an X-Men.”

“If he’s a superhero how come you know his name? They’re supposed to have secret identities.”

“Cause I’m smart and figured it out.”

Tommy makes a face, leading them over to the crosswalk so they can make the trek to his house, “Is this like when you went to ninja school over spring break?”

“I did go to ninja school!”

“My mom said you went to your grandma’s.”

“That’s where the ninja school is,” Steve insisted. “Grandpa Otis taught me ninja moves from the war.”

“Grandpa Otis isn’t a ninja.”

“He has a sword, Tommy. Why would he-“

“Hey, guys! Wait up!” They heard behind them and stopped as Carol ran to catch up. “Choir was cancelled. What’s up with the police here?”

“They have to be here,” Steve answered, “To help with the traffic after that girl got hit a car.”

“But why are they staring at you?”

What?

Steve turned and looked over at the cop monitoring the crosswalk. He was a big scary looking guy with a big mustache and big arms, and yeah. He was staring at them.

Steve looked away from Hopper quickly, “We didn’t do anything.”

“Maybe they know about the superhero and are looking for him,” Tommy said dramatically. “Maybe they want to capture him but they don’t know how to get to him so they’re looking at you. They know how to you easy.”

“Oh my god, he’s still talking about the superhero thing?” Carol asked.

Tommy grinned at her and the two walked off, but Steve stayed rooted to his spot. He turned back one last time, observing Hopper as he observed him. Steve frowned.

Then he ran after his friends, “Guys, wait for me.”

[roosterforme]

Mail Call | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After a long and illustrious Naval career, Bradley was used to months spent on an aircraft carrier. Nothing ever felt quite as good as a letter from home. He thought he knew what to expect this time, but you always made things more exciting.

Warnings: adult language, masturbation, horny love letter

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley had been in the Navy long enough to know when to expect a mail call. Maybe it was intuition or a sixth sense, but after so many years of deployments, he was certain. When he woke up on Tuesday, something told him to start getting excited. There would be a box with his name written in a familiar scrawl in his hands soon. "Commander Bradshaw." He turned to see a petty officer jogging along the interior corridor of the aircraft carrier with a clipboard in hand. "Sir, here's your schedule for the day." Bradley grunted and skimmed the sheet as he made his way up to the tower. The lightness he felt mere moments ago was replaced by annoyance. Back-to-back meetings filled every inch of the sheet, including a meeting that was scheduled for after dinner.

"Damn it," he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time. His plan to collect his parcel, enjoy a meal, and then head to his private bunk to read the letter was dashed. But he was still convinced that a Comanche helicopter would touch down on deck at some point this afternoon if the weather permitted. He'd get his mail when he could. He needed to wait a little longer to hear from you, which would make him grouchy in the interim.When he pushed open the heavy door to the tower, he greeted the collection of older officers by uttering just one word. "Admirals."

They all greeted him in response with a chorus of overworked voices, and then another clipboard was thrust into his hand. Attached to this one was a sheet detailing the flight schedules for the day, and sure enough, a smile curled along his lips below his mustache when he saw that a Comanche was slated to arrive at 1500 hours with the note US Airmail Transport.

God, a letter from you was sounding better by the minute. Your tone would be soft. You'd tell him how much you missed him. There would be something in there from-

"Commander Bradshaw. Let's get started with your pilots."

His musings were cut short, and he sighed before slipping the offered headset into place and testing out the comms. He was in charge of the training exercises for this deployment, and he needed to keep his mind clear so he could keep his aviators safe. It would do him no good to be focused on what might be happening back at home. He could read about it later.

But as the day wore on, the sky darkened, and storm clouds painted the horizon. When he called his team back to the carrier and watched them land one at a time, he asked the admirals, "Should we check in with the mail transport? It seems to have gone off schedule."

Lightning cut across the sky just as the comms crackled to life with a new voice. "This is Comanche. We're coming in low from the east, trying to avoid the rain. Are we clear to make a quick landing in seventeen minutes?"

Bradley listened to the air traffic team guide the helicopter in, and sure enough, the landing was low and loud, followed by another crack of lightning. He watched from his high vantage point as a team ran out in boots and rain slickers to collect bin after bin of mail, and now his hands were itching again. He could already feel the familiar weight of the box packed with his favorite snacks and some handmade artwork.

"Commander, you'll be late to meet with the pilots."

Bradley was once again yanked from his daydream of being at home where it was warm and dry and cozy, and he was faced with the prospect of having to duck outside into the storm to get to the meeting rooms on time.

The first gust of wind had him shivering and wishing he could grab his mail directly from the helicopter and head back to his bunk. The second gust left him cursing under his breath. He had to go lecture all of these young pilots about where they needed to improve before they could fly their mission, and he just didn't have the energy for it.

"Work now, reward later," he told himself, taking a deep breath and picturing your smile. That was enough to get him through the meetings. It was enough to get him back to his small office where he wrote up his notes for the day. It was even enough to get him all the way to the narrow hallway where the mail was being sorted.

But now there was a massive fucking line of officers in uniform waiting for the same thing he was. And to top it off, his stomach was growling. He could bail out of line, eat dinner, and come back later, hoping there was still someone there to disperse the mail before they closed up shop for the night. But it wasn't worth the risk. He'd be happy to skip dinner in favor of mail from you. It wasn't even a question in his mind.

When he finally reached the window and the rows of alphabetized bins, he told the officer in charge, "Bradshaw, Bradley," and then waited quite impatiently to have an ordinary looking cardboard box thrust into his hands. But his heart leapt with joy as soon as he held it and saw your handwriting. "Thank you."

The box felt a little lighter than usual. Maybe you didn't have time to load it up with as many snacks as you usually did. He hated leaving you for weeks and months at a time to deal with everything at home on your own. He loved being at home for the day to day grind. Loved it. But there was something unique about seeing how much things changed while he was gone.

He shook the box a little bit, curiosity getting the best of him. He passed the cafeteria and ran like a child to get back to his bunk as quickly as he could where he set the box down and tore into it. When he saw the three envelopes on top, he had to fight back his tears and take a deep breath.

He carefully picked up the envelope that said Daddy in purple crayon and opened it up to find several coloring sheets and a note written in light pink crayon that was a little hard to read.

Daddy,

I lost my first toooth. The toooth fairee took it. I got a glittery doller. I drew you the toooth and the fairee.

Love, Wren

Bradley found the corresponding page with a drawing of the tooth along with the tooth fairy. His daughter also wrote her name all over the back of the paper in every color crayon imaginable which made him smile. He read her note again before carefully placing it on his nightstand, and then he picked up the envelope that said Dad in black pen.

Dad,

When are you coming home? Fourth grade is so boring. We are learning how to write in cursive, but I already know how. Mom doesn't make the homework as fun as you do. Don't tell her I said that.

Actually everything is better when you're at home. I had a good report card, so mom let me get a skateboard. I covered it in bird stickers. I can almost stand on it for three seconds. Soccer tryouts are next week, and mom promised to take a video so you can watch it later. When are you coming home again? I'll make sure she doesn't delete the video.

Wren drew you a tooth fairy, but it looks like a demon. So then I started to try to draw the tooth fairy, and it looks really cool. It's on the back of the page. Please write back and tell us when you're coming home.

Love, Hawk

His son's version of the tooth fairy did look pretty cool, and now Bradley was cracking up as he took a second look at the one his daughter drew. Yeah, it was a bit frightening. He set both notes aside, finally ready to read what you had written to him. The third envelope said Bradley in your familiar handwriting, but his heart lurched into his belly. Instead of the thick envelope filled with page after page that he usually received from you, this one was light. His brow creased in concern as he opened it up to reveal just one sheet.

Bradley,

We miss you. The kids are mostly holding it together, but we're waiting until we know your return date to start a countdown. You know how much Wren cries when the countdown goes on for too long. Honestly, it makes me want to cry, too.

I could write you a novel about work and school and how much I miss you, but I thought it might just be more fun to show you. I got a little carried away with the camera a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep. I was too hot, and your pillow still smells like you. It smelled so good. I started thinking about what you and I will do when you get home. Then I couldn't stop. I literally could not stop touching myself, Bradley.

It never feels as good without you, but I do think some of the photos portray just how vivid my imagination was that night. Like I said, I got carried away.

Let us know when you'll be home.

Love, Your horny wife

Bradley immediately started digging through the box, and he soon realized you'd only included a thin layer of his favorite snacks. He scooped them out onto his bed and was left with some Polaroids. A lot of Polaroids.

"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath, reaching in and pulling out a photo of you wearing nothing but a tiny lace thong in his favorite shade of blue. He loved that thing. He loved taking it off of you. Your arm was covering your breasts in the photo, but that was okay. He had a vivid imagination.

Oh, but you didn't leave him hanging at all. The next one he grabbed was you sprawled out in bed, tits on full display, thong present and accounted for. You were biting down on your lip, and he could almost hear you moan. Your nipples were hard and looked just like they did after he had them in his mouth.

"God damn it, Baby. You're killing me." He missed his family. He missed being at home. But right now, all he could think about was fucking the absolute shit out of his wife.

Now he was looking at a beautiful shot of just your face, eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure. That was followed up by you bending over in the thong. And then one where you had your nose buried in his pillow.

There were so many photos, he was getting dizzy. And he was hard. He took a few seconds to unzip his khaki uniform pants while his eyes searched through the photos still inside the box. "Damn," he groaned, wrapping his right hand around his cock while he picked up one of the photos with his left.

You were straddling his pillow in your underwear. Literally grinding your pussy against it. Back arched, tits front and center, riding his pillow like it was his face. He really wished it was.

"Okay, Baby," he murmured, picking up another one while he stroked himself. Your hand was inside your thong. Another one where your blue thong was pulled to the side, showing off your pussy. Another one where you had two fingers knuckle-deep inside yourself. Another one where you were licking your wet fingers.

When he reached blindly into the box again, his hand connected with something softer next to the Polaroids. To his absolute delight, his fingers wrapped around that bit of fabric that he recognized right away. The blue thong. His cock jumped in excitement as he raised your panties slowly from the box and brought them all the way to his face. He knew. He knew you hadn't washed it. He just fucking knew this little thing was put in the box directly after you came all over it and dragged it down your soft legs.

His mouth watered as he pressed it to his nose. Eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled the scent of your arousal. He moaned your name. He could practically taste you as he rutted into his own hand. Bradley inhaled and exhaled your smell, running the lace along his nose, mustache and lips. The fabric was soft on his face, and he could picture you teasing him with it.

He would do anything to have you right now. He wanted you bent over the end of the bed, sobbing and begging him to go harder. He wanted your sweet voice in his ear. He wanted you on your knees. He wanted to bury his face in your pussy until you screamed.

"Jesus Christ," he whined, panting as he jerked himself off. All he could smell was you. It smelled like home and being in love. He couldn't get enough as he rubbed your thong all over his face before lowering it down to his cock. The lace felt exquisite as he ached with need. The fabric glided along in his hand, creating a friction that left him groaning.

He jerked himself off slowly, trying to make it last as long as he could, but the Polaroids were all he could see, and your pussy was all he could smell. He came all over your thong, ribbons of white decorating it while he held onto the wall for support.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered, voice harsh as he drained every drop onto the lace. He held the sticky mess in his hand and huffed out a surprised laugh. From thousands of miles away, you did this to him. This was different from the mail he usually received from you, but he wasn't complaining. He got a nice update on what was happening at home plus a lot more than he bargained for.

Bradley walked into his tiny bathroom and draped your thong over the sink faucet before washing his hands. Maybe he'd have time to grab some dinner before returning to his bunk to write back to you, Hawk, and Wren. He had so much to say. Especially to you. He'd set himself up in bed with one of his clipboards and tell you all about what you made him do.

"Oh, shit," he told his reflection in the mirror as he thought about his clipboard again. "Fuck!"

He had one more meeting left. Starting in just minutes. He eased his cock back into his pants, still zipping up as he left his bunk. Then he walked while discreetly trying to tuck his shirt in and straighten out his uniform.

The further he got from your wrecked underwear, the more he realized he could still smell you. He was going to be able to smell you all night. This was going to be a painfully long meeting. And the letter he wrote to you later was going to be as dirty as your underwear.

----------------------

Thanks for reading! It's been a while since I posted a Bradley one-shot, and this one was hanging out in my drafts for a bit. Much love for a DILF. Hope you enjoy your Valentine's Day as much as Bradley enjoyed his mail!

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[toxicanonymity]

Dear Toxi, I wrote yet another letter using Resistbot to once again ask my representatives (and evil governor) about the SAVE act & inquiring about Palestine. Ever since the ceasefire ended I feel like I've seen almost no one talking about it. We must keep pressing our representatives and leaders about this.

Anyways, I'm at the beach today and it got me thinking. Would the Miller brothers (either in Leopard Print or the series you wrote) ever take out dear reader to the beach? Or a lake? Perhaps they would dick her down in a changing room or behind a sand dune. Idk, food for thought 🤔

SAVE Act | 5calls | resistbot | Update - ask senators to vote no on cloture AND bill. TYSM bestie, your activism is appreciated 🖤 leopard print au

cheetah print... pt. 1 of 2 (pt. 2 here)

Joel Miller x f!reader, 3k words | joel masterlist

He pulled you back against the heft in his swim trunks. You were met with a subtle thrust that sent daggers of need up your spine. He touched you like you were together, like you belonged to him. Not like you'd met one time and fucked behind a gas station.

SUMMARY: No-outbreak. Tommy hears you're going to the beach. Joel finds you there and gets you into his beach tent. WARNINGS: 18+ semi-public PinV, dirty talk, dry humping, groping in public, thigh fucking, degradation, cream pie, breeding kink, ass slapping, daddy kink, pet names

If you hadn't been seated in your car, your knees would've buckled under you. You'd seen a few big, dark trucks since the encounter, bringing your chest to a simmer each time, but the back of this one read Miller Bros. When a mustached man in shades reached out the driver's side window to adjust the mirror, your breath hitched, and you didn't exhale until he rolled away. Jesus Christ.

A minute later, it approached from the back and rolled to a stop parallel with you. A pit opened in your chest. Of all the days to be wearing another animal print bikini….

“How ya doin', sugar? It’s me. Tommy." When you didn't manage any words, he added, “The Seat. Remember?” he gestured to the empty passenger seat where you last met.

“Yeah,” you nodded with a forced smile, face burning. “Hey.”

He took off his shades and asked, “Wanna go for a ride?”

“No, I'm uh… I'm on my way to meet a friend.”

“Yeah? Where y'all goin’?”

“The beach.”

“See ya there.”

When he drove off again, he didn't circle back.

—------

At the beach, for the rest of the day, your eyes darted around not finding him. To get out of the sun, you left your stuff on the beach and put on a light, airy swimsuit cover-up, leaving it open in the front. You got in line at the popsicle stand. You were wet and tingling from thinking about what could happen. What did happen - it was so degrading to everyone involved, so depraved, so devilish. You couldn't think about it without squeezing your thighs together.

You closed your eyes for a moment, wincing at your aching need, when someone stepped into your space from behind.

“Need somethin’ to suck on?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the voice, deep and smooth, not two inches from your ear. Your cover-up shifted as he reached around you. He lightly pinched the border of the open garment and ghosted his fingers down it. You opened your eyes and turned your head just a bit.

Joel brought his lips to your ear. “I got somethin to suck on… or somethin’ to fuck you raw.”

His fingers brushed your bare waist and he said, “ooh, you're hot….even hotter than I remembered”

He laid his palm against your skin and let it wander. He felt your side, your belly, your chest, then cupped your breast, making your lips part as your nipple hardened through the thin fabric and the person in front of you stepped forward in line. You followed suit. He stepped forward, even closer than before, placed his palm on your lower abdomen and pulled you back against him, right against the heft in his swim trunks. You were met with a subtle thrust of his hips that sent daggers of need from your tailbone up your spine.

He touched you like you were together, like you belonged to him. Not like you'd met one time behind a gas station.

When it was your turn in line, you expected Joel to back off, but he did the opposite. He dipped his four fingers into the front of your swimsuit bottoms leaving his thumb on the outside. His middle finger wiggled ever so slightly on your clit.

The Popsicle salesman turned bright red before quickly averting his eyes.

“What flavor did you want?” He asked, looking down into the freezer rather than at you.

Joel dipped his hand lower in your suit, and his thumb took your swimsuit down with his hand as his middle finger reached your slick and he growled. “Giver somethin’ creamy,” he answered for you.

A force field around you was vibrating against the reality of the moment, letting you exist there like a dream. The popsicle guy cleared his throat.

You handed the cash to the guy. Joel only took his hand out of your swimsuit to take the pop from him, shiny fingers and all.

-

Joel put his arm around you, guiding you toward a wall. Then he unwrapped the creamy pop and took a long slurp of it as you leaned with your back against the wall. He braced his arm on the wall above you and laid his hardness against you. Your hand twitched with the urge to shove it down his shorts, to take him right there against the wall. He brought the pop to your lips, and watched your lips accept it as he pushed more of it in. “Yeahhh,” he whispered, and his hips pushed forward as the rest of the pop slid into your mouth. “Good girl.” His eyes flickered up from your spread lips to your eyes, and half his mouth twitched into a smirk at your lustful gaze. He fed you the pop, controlling the pace, grinding against you at the same pace. “You feel that?” he asked.

“Mmm,” you hummed into the popsicle,

“How long til it’s inside you, huh?”

“Mm,” you looked at him.

“How long til you're packed with this big cock?

Five minutes?” he asked with a slow rut against your front in rhythm with the popsicle pushing back into your mouth. “Three?”

“Mmm,” your eyes closed with the next stroke of his hard cock. “Ohh,” your mouth opened slightly.

“Ohhh, that sounds more like sixty seconds,” Joel teased and removed the pop from your mouth, bringing it to his own for a long, sensual slurp. “See,I was thinkin’ I might take my time, but…”

Your phone rang, pulling you out of the moment. It was your friend down on the beach. “I gotta grab some sunscreen while I’m up here,” you told Joel.

“Nah, I got plenty,” he said. “I'll put it on ya, too.’

After texting your friend that you’d be back a little later, you and Joel headed down to the beach.  “I saw your brother earlier,” you said. 

“He behave himself?” Joel asked. 

“Uh… yeah.” 

“Yeah, he knows better than to fuck my girl without me.”  Joel gave you ass a little pop, then grabbed and jiggled it. 

“Your girl, huh?” 

“What, you like Tommy? He can put his dick in you, if ya want…” Joel looked at you as though curious about your reaction. “But when it’s time to fill ya up, that’s all me, baby.” 

“You’re bad,” you said. 

“Oh baby, you’ll find out. C’mon, there’s some privacy in the tent. 

—----------------

In the tent, Joel rolled the back of it down, so the only opening was facing  toward the water.  People could walk by, but they'd have to turn their head and look. At least that's what you told yourself. Didn't take much convincing. 

He picked up some sunscreen and set it next to him as he got behind you. His lips brushed the nape of your neck. 

“Been thinking ‘bout this,” he admitted. His nose brushed your hair as his hands roved your body and you melted into his touch. “Wishin’ you were workin’... wishin’ I had your number… “ At the same time: a squeeze of your breast, a cup of your mound. “be your number one customer, baby.” He worked both hands, big and gentle, dragged his lips down the shell your ear, then sucked the lobe. Could he feel it was on fire? Fuck, to think about y’alls first time… The way he thought you were for sale. How offended you were, and turned on…. 

“Such a good girl, lettin’ me fuck you in a goddamn parkin lot,” he murmured, dragging his lips against your skin. He pulled you close, so you could feel the shape of his cock even stiffer than moments ago.  “Lettin’ me fuck you full’a my load…” He rutted against you, making you drip. “Comin’ on a stranger’s cock while he fucks a baby in ya…. Fuck, Nothin hotter.”  Your insides were hot, swollen, yearning to be filled.  

“Thought maybe one day I’d see ya with a pretty dress and a baby bump.” A voracious need ignited in your core. “Oh, fuck,” he breathed, his cock thick and rock hard, digging against the upper flesh of your butt, making you gush and buzz. 

Knocked up behind a gas station? So deranged, so arousing…

“Just as happy to see ya like this…. like a gift I’m boutta unwrap.” 

He tugged at your halter string, and it fell loose.

A glob of sunscreen squirted into his massive palm, he tossed the bottle aside, and rubbed his hands together. 

Wrapping his arms around to your front, he started with your chest. “Most sensitive skin's right here,” he said, sliding his fingers up your sternum to your neck.  He paused with his hand around your neck. “How’s that feel?” His thumb added light pressure.

“Good,” you said. He rubbed the lotion into your chest, between your breasts, then directly on them, with your halter dangling below his big masculine hands as they cupped your breasts. “Gotta get the whole body, cause if your swimsuit moves….” 

He continued the sensual breast massage, and you audibly sighed.

“That feel good?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Get you all tingly. Get you all wet?” he asked. 

“Mmm,” you replied. “I was already wet.” 

“Already wet for me,” he murmured. “....Cause ya let me feel ya up at the goddamn popsicle stand,” he said with an edge, bringing a flash of heat to your face. “Poor baby, must be dyin’ for it."

“I could take care of that for ya,” he offered, massaging your breasts and then moving lower to your stomach. He stopped short of your bikini bottom. “Only one problem, he said. Now I got lotion on my hands.” His hands slithered over your body, feeling every curve. “Don’t wanna make ya burn or nothin’,” he mumbled. “So how’m I gonna get ya off?” He spread his knees,straddling your legs wider, finding a lower angle. Then hee grinded his hard dick against you, prodding at your lower crack. “Hm?” 

He pulled one the string of your bikini bottom, then the other. “You want me to take care of this, don't ya?” He asked, pulling the loose swimsuit from between your legs, holding it up to see how wet it was.

“Mmmm,” he observed. 

His hands left your body only to pull down his swim trunks, making his warm, smooth shaft spring against the bare skin of your ass cheek. He took his shorts fully off, then resumed his position. 

Without using his hands, he thrusted against your backside. He held your waist and you tilted your hips for him. “Good girl,” With the angle just right, his cock slid right between your thighs, with no help from his hands. . “Unggh—There we go,” he said. He moved his hips nice and slow, pushing his cock through the snug tunnel of your thighs and dripping pussy. His girth pushed your folds out of the way, and the fat head of his cock nudged your clit. You kept your thighs squeezed together, nearly breathless from the perfect pressure of his dick against your naked heat. Your head tilted up, eyes closing in pleasure. He massaged  hips and your thighs while rutting against your dripping heat. 

It was more than enough to get you off. You tensed your abdomen, very aware of the swell of arousal deep in your gut, threatening to burst into the stratosphere. You squeezed your thighs together tighter, making him moan out loud.

He rubbed the lotion into your hips and sides, and when his hands were no longer wet, he brought them back to your breasts, lightly cupping them with each nipple between two fingers on each breast. He began to thrust in faster, smaller motions, grunting, sighing. 

Fuck, he felt good, and you were close, so close, your body tensed. 

“Breathe, baby,” he said. “Let it happen—Mmm.”

You obeyed with the next nudge of his tip against your clit making it pound with pleasure.

“Fuck, I feel it,” he said. The pressure pounded and released, and as it faded, you could only think, that better not be the only one I get. 

Badly needing him inside you, you leaned forward, getting on your hands hands and knees and tilting your hips.  

Joel let out a low whistle, and began to fuck your thighs again. 

The lack of penetration was driving you crazy. 

“Fuck me,” you demanded. 

“Do I even know your name, babygirl?” His stiff cock must have been aching, still sliding through your folds. “Just want me to fuck you raw, huh?” 

“Put it in me,” you agreed. 

“Ow,” he reacted. “Well, god damn… a woman who knows what she wants.” 

“Give it to me,” you pleaded.

“Where ya want it?” he asked. 

“In my pussy, god.” He had you dying for it. 

He slid his cock through your folds, one last time. “Ohhh I feel her twitchin’ for me, baby.” 

You tilted your hips and the head caught at your entrance. “Yeah,” he whispered, then began to push. You pushed back on him, then forward just a bit, to keep the skin from catching. Then the rest of his cock slid through your soft walls, pushing a moan out of you with his girth. 

“Fuck,” you breathed as he bottomed out with a grunt. 

“Forgot you were tight,” he muttered, stiff and throbbing. He placed a hand on your lower back as he withdrew a few inches, then slammed back in.  “Oh, fuck yeah, you're real tight,” he said as he fucked you.  You moaned with each thrust, each throb, each grunt, each rumble from his chest. 

“Ain’t got fucked right in a while, huh?... Well, daddy's here,” he reassured you, making you spasm on his cock. 

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “You like that…. Oh, fuck. Take it good for daddy,” he gushed as he fucked you. Your ass pushed back on him in perfect rhythm. “God damn, this ass,” he said, grabbing a handful, then giving it a pop. “Uggh,” he groaned, burying his cock in you, watching your cunt swallow it right up.  He spat on your asshole and pressed gently on it with his thumb, spreading the spit around, then adding more. 

“You like it here, too?” he asked. 

Sure, you’d like it goddamn everywhere from this freak. But there was only one thing on your mind. “Stay where you are,” you demanded. 

“Damn, just gettin’ to know ya’s all,” he said. “No way I’m leavin’ this pussy empty. You know that, baby……Fuck, she takes it real good.” 

He slammed into you with a growl.

The rhythm was a perfect overlay with the waves outside. The lap of skin and the wind against the tent. The heavy breaths and growls and moans. 

Jesus Christ, you've had his cock buried in you for minutes and it seemed to only get bigger… a mind-numbing fullness, making your eyes glaze over. 

“Fuck, you're big,” you breathed, feeling him in your guts. 

“Yeah, you need a big cock, don’t ya?” He said, he slammed to the hilt and grinded his hips, letting you feel just how deep he could. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whined. 

“Need a real big cock to fuck this pussy right.” 

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Yeah, daddy. Oh, fuck me.” 

“Fuck yeah,” he breathed, grinding deep again. “Oh, fuck.” 

You pushed back on him, making him “Mmmmmmm–oh, baby,” before catching another rhythm. 

He asked, “Member our deal? Free if I come inside….” 

“Come in me,” you said. 

“You, uh,” he started to ask a question, then muttered, “fuck it, I don't wanna know.” 

His cock twitched. He fucked you harder. He gripped your hips and sped up to a punishing pace, one that took skill. “Fuck,” he panted. “You ready for it?....You ready?” his question broken by the effort of his hips. 

The pleasure overwhelmed your body. You thought you might pass out. 

“You gonna come on this cock, baby”  he asked and slowed down when you simply moaned in response. 

“Fuck, you're hot,” he breathed. “Nothin’ like a hot slut at the beach.” And he smacked your ass. “Fuck,” he said, “you dunno what I’d pay for this pussy.”  He sped up again. 

“You oughtta try it,” he panted, “Make bank with this pussy.”  

All you could do was moan in response. 

“Fuck yeah,” he said. 

“Don't stop,” you begged, so close…

“Not ‘til you're full,” He reassured you. “Not til my swimmers are all up in your guts.” He slammed into you, grinded his hips again, “pourin’ outta ya.” The friction sent you tumbling over the edge. 

You groaned as you came, and he slowed, nearly to a halt. “Fuck, yeah.”

You hardly noticed the shadow outside the tent as you choked him.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me good, baby,” he breathed, and fucked you through it slowly.  And then he bottomed out deep, and pulsed. “Ohhh” he groaned, spilling his seed inside you.

A voice came from outside the tent, then Tommy appeared in the open side. “Ten’s a rockin’, and I ain’t knockin’....”

“I’m a-knockin’ her up,” Joel said, fully seated in your cunt. 

“Well look at her all fucked out,” Tommy smiled with admiration.  He gently touched your dissheveled hair, then thumbed your lip. “She’s a beaut.” 

“I miss all the fun?” Tommy asked. 

“Hell no,” Joel said. “Just helpin’ with her sunscreen. Ain't even got the back yet.”

“Is that right, Tommy asked, then wet his lips, looking at your tits. He unscrewed a bottle of water and got on his knees and tilted it to your lips. You lapped some as it trickled out of the bottle. 

Joel’s hands were steady on your ass and he pulled his hips back just a bit for one last thrust and sigh. 

“Fuck. She's good. She's so tight, man.” Joel said. “I mean, wrecked right now, but--- You need a break, baby? Whatcha wanna do?” 

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Thank you for reading and tysm for supporting Blorbos for democracy fics. If someone calls their senators, we're headed for DP 🤟