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#fanfic issue
fictionkinfessions · 2 months
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I wholeheartedly believe that the perpetual urge to create fanfic based on your canon is a universal kin experience.
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the-kinfesssional · 18 days
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I love reading fanfics where I'm shipped with a random character and imagining it as her,,
I love Sarah.. I love her sm.. I miss her.. Heres to hoping my online gf is my canon Sarah cuz we both have been thinking it. but God.. I love her..
~ Lilac (#🪲💫🐾)
Fanfics... Ah, sometimes the Bane of our existence, sometimes the love of an of a single one. Yeah, I get it. I don't know if it's good or not that you're wishing she's your Sarah, but if she isn't, is that okay?
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watcher0033 · 9 months
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Y’all, the Archive admins are made up of VOLUNTEERS. And they have been working for 12-13 HOURS STRAIGHT.
I better not hear any complaints when donation period comes around. OR ELSE.
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cosplay by @woahchriswoah on Twitter
EDIT: How do we show appreciation to the volunteers? For me reading these deep dives on OTW issues u guys apparently it's been said multiple times that one of their objective statements is to have paid staff for ao3 and there's a surplus of donations they haven't used up or the other community solutions that needs to address. For those more financially literate feel free to analyze, snipe me or add to the discussion etc. linked here by deepa. They’re cool and these yearly analysis they did aint no joke.
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But Seriously what can we do for these volunteers? The probable burn out from this entire fiasco would be no joke. @ao3org
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jumbletea · 2 years
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ao3 crashed and the people are suffering
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jomarch-wannabe · 11 months
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Sold (Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader)
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Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold's daughter!Reader
Synopsis: The coin lands on tails
Warnings: Smut 🔞(implied age gap, dubcon/noncon, virginity loss, p in v sex, rough sex, cursing, praise kink, sir kink, choking, overstimulation) Angst (anxiety, crying, manipulation, blood loss)
Author's note: I thought of this on a whim one day and went with it. Definitely a darker portrayal of Tommy.. read at your own discretion.
CH. ONE CH. TWO
——————————————————————————
“I’m gonna spin a coin for your yard Charlie.”
“You goin’ what?”
“If it’s heads, Abe here takes all this,” Tommy explained with an extended hand, “with my blessing.”
“Tommy!”
“And if it’s tails,” Tommy paused, flicking his eyes to Aberama's cocked brow. “I fuck your daughter Mr. Gold.”
His face fell stone cold at the proposition.
“What’ll it be?” Tommy asked with a smug expression, dragging a cigarette across his lips. “Heads or tails?”
“Heads.” Abbie spat, straightening his posture to assert dominance.
Tommy’s expression remained unchanged as he twirled the coin between his fingers before tossing it in the air, catching it on top of his hand.
His pale blue eyes glinted as he uncovered the coin, facing tails up. In an effort to contain his amusement his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicked up to Abe.
“A deal is a deal.” Abe coughed, adjusting the collar of his coat, clenching his jaw.
Tommy nodded in acknowledgement as his face cast aglow from the flame of his cigarette. Behind the orange glare you could faintly make out the edge of his lips tugging into a smirk.
——————————————————————————
Expensive shoes crunched lightly against the gravel of Thomas Shelby’s driveway as you exited your lift. Your breath hitched in nervousness as the car rolled away behind you, disappearing into the darkness.
With a few hesitant steps you made contact with the door, knocking lightly against the wood. After a few moments a maid named Frances let you in, granting your chilled limbs a satisfying warmth in the lit up foyer.
Her hands fell open out of habit, prepared for your coat. The fabric fell off your shoulders with the shrug of your arms, exposing your skin.
She smiled warmly as she received it, turning from you to place it on a rack. With her back to you, you were granted the privacy to unhide your expression. The heaviness of shame dragged the corners of your mouth into a frown.
She turned to you, attentive with her posture and eyes. “Are you here to see Charlie? A sitter perhaps?” Her brows raised in a sort of put on friendliness.
You blinked, thumbing the beads hanging off your dress. “N-no,” you replied shyly, lifting your eyes to meet hers. “I’m here to see Thomas Shelby.”
Her warm expression melted at the realization, the falling of her lips communicated an unspoken sympathy.
You took in a breath, shaky with anticipation. “Might you direct me to his room?”
“Right, of course.” She shook her head in embarrassment, forcing a smile and guiding you with an extended arm.
As you followed behind her and up the stairs, your eyes flicked over the many paintings on the walls. A blonde woman caught your eye. She was beautiful; framed in a circle of moonlight pouring through a nearby window. Your neck craned, following her eyes, as they did you grew nauseous.
“It’s just down the hall there dear,” The maid directed with a pointed finger, dissolving your trance.
Your eyes scanned over the many doors, stopping at one furthest down the hall. An orange glow spread from under the door, illuminating a path on the embroidered carpet.
“Thank you.” You murmured, keeping your eyes down, and starting down the vacant hall.
She hummed as she departed, disappearing carefully down the stairs.
Hesitant steps carried you down the dark corridor. The shaking of your breath broke the stillness of the air as you grew closer to your fate. A throbbing commenced in your head as you stopped, hovering inches from the door.
Black shadows moved at your feet, indicating activity on the other side. Swallowing thickly, you raised your fist to hover against the wood. With a heavy breath you knocked lightly, 2 times. A stirring of bed sheets came through the door, making you freeze.
“Come in.” a masculine voice called out, increasing your heart rate.
With his instruction, you turned the knob, twisting it’s cool handle and pushing it open with a creak. Candlelight lit up his figure as you entered the room.
Your chest rose as your eyes flicked over his shirtless form, sprawled under white bed sheets with a drink in his outstretched arm. He was otherworldly. His taut chest was covered in ripples of muscle, decorated with a tattoo. His firm forearms twitched slightly as he thumbed the glass in his hand. Your posture stiffened as you closed the door behind you, not removing your eyes from him.
“So you’re Gold’s daughter eh?” He asked, although already knowing the answer. His eyes hungrily scanned your body as he awaited a response.
“Y-yes.” You subconsciously played with the hem of your dress as his piercing blue eyes drank you in.
“What’s your name?” The bed springs squeaked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching to sit his drink on the nightstand.
Your breath hitched at the quiet thud against the wood. “Y/n, sir.”
He was quiet for a moment, suppressing a groan at your pet name. “That’s a lovely name.”
Your eyes wandered to his shifting hips as he neared you, growing taller with every step. The thin white fabric of his boxers scarcely hid the print of his length.
“Y/n.” He repeated to himself, admiring you with parted lips. Your attention moved to him as your name dripped off his tongue. In closeness you could smell his cologne, almost taste it.
I’m curiosity he extended a finger out to brush your cheek, tracing your soft, youthful skin.
The contact made your face burn, unfamiliar with the feeling of a man’s touch.
He pulled away in surprise, studying you with furrowed brows.
His gaze was dominant, powerful, making you feel small and submissive in his presence. His proximity was arousing, close enough to feel his body heat warming yours.
“Are you a virgin?” His voice was low and gravely, making your stomach sink.
You couldn’t help your eyes from watering, both in embarrassment and fear. “Y-yes sir.”
“Fuck.” He groaned, clenching his jaw.
You shifted your weight on each foot, unsure if he was aroused or regretful.
“I’ve never taken a man Mr. Shelby.” With wide, innocent eyes you studied his face. His captivating crystal eyes, his prominent cheek bones, then down to his pink, plump lips, glistening with saliva as he pulled his bottom lip into his teeth.
You mimicked him subconsciously, growing in desire as you studied his masculine features.
His eyes met yours making you gasp softly.
Without warning he closed the gap between you, capturing your mouth in his.
The impact pushed you back slightly, if not for his hand on your back you would have stumbled over.
His breath fanned your cheek as his lips hungrily caressed yours, sucking at your mouth with his.
Your heart pounded with adrenaline, both in arousal and fear.
Your neck craned as you clumsily kissed him back, steadying yourself with your fingers against his shifting jaw.
He groaned at your touch, pulling away from you with a pop. Your eyes fluttered open at his retreat, finding his lust blown pupils, glistening in the amber light.
His hand slid up your back in eagerness, though not rushed, reaching for the top zipper. The feeling of his hands on your body send chills down your skin.
Your dress loosened as he pulled down, nearly exposing your chest if not for your hand catching the falling fabric.
“Wait..” your voice trembled, blinking in fear. His fingers loosened from the zipper at your protest.
“It’s just,” you breathed in, chewing your lip as to not grow upset, “I’m afraid.��
In amusement his mouth curled into a half smile, exposing his teeth, intrigued by your innocence.
Don’t worry love,” he leaned into your ear, muttering lowly with a gravely tone, “I’ve got the best cock in England.”
There wasn’t sarcastic tone in his voice, rather a seriousness, a confidence that rolled off his tongue. The thought made your stomach twist.
“Let me see you.”
You obliged, knowing it was a command and not a suggestion. Slowly, your hand lifted from your chest, allowing the gown the fall down your body.
It hit the floor with a soft thud, exposing your youthful figure. A chill raised on your skin at your bareness, causing you to shiver slightly.
He pulled back from your ear, taking time to admire you. His mouth fell agape as he took you in. Your slender shoulders, narrow hips, and pink nipples, erect in the cool air.
“Christ.”
Instinctually you covered yourself, hiding your breasts and core with trembling hands.
Your couldn’t face him, instead finding your gaze on the floor, watching your feet shift against the velvety carpet.
He shook his head, stepping towards you, bumping into your arms with his abdomen.
Your head tilted at the new angle, finding him looking down at you past his nose. “Don’t hide from me love.”
Your skin warmed as his large hands grasped your wrists, making your heart pound as he easily pulled them from your body.
“I need to fuck that little cunt.” He breathed to himself, exploring his hands up your skin, leaving goosebumps in their place.
Anticipating his cock inside of you made your stomach twist in knots.
His hands stopped at your shoulders, making you stumble backwards as he maneuvered you to the bed. The wood frame met your heels as you met the edge.
“Lay back love,” the force of his hands gently pushed you backwards, lowering you onto the mattress.
You sucked in a breath as the soft comforter swallowed your small frame, leaving you sprawled open. His eyes flicked over you with a predatory gaze, clenching his jaw in arousal as he scanned your body, ready to receive him. Your hair spread underneath you, rippling in soft waves across his sheets.
He worked his boxers down with his thumb, causing your chest to rise as he shuffled the fabric down his thighs.
A patch of dark hair exposed itself at the movement, before finally revealing his half hard cock, bobbing towards his toned abdomen.
Your lips parted in intrigue as he fisted himself a few times, growing hard as his thick fingers stimulated his reddened head.
He let out a withheld breath, dipping the mattress with his weight as he crawled on top of you, trapping you in with his outstretched arms.
Your heart was pounding at a dizzying pace as he closed the space between you. His body heat evaporated his scent, cool with lingering cigarette smoke and whiskey. You breathed him in, foreign to the musk of a man.
“I’ll take good care of you love,” he reassured, pulling your attention to him with a hand in your hair. “don’t worry..” he spoke against your lips, pulling you in for a long kiss.
Your eyes fell closed at the contact. His breath fanned your cheek as he tasted you, groaning lowly as he worked his soft lips against yours.
Imagining his skill made your thighs clench, knowing the amount of women he has been with.
Your squirming under him caught his attention, causing him to break the kiss, hovering inches from your face.
“Are you ready?” He asked, scanning over your face with an eagerness in his turquoise blue eyes.
“I have to be.” You mumbled in an uncertain tone, chewing the inside of your cheek.
He let out a heavy breath as he diverted his eyes from you, reaching for his length. You watched him attentively as he grasped himself, lining up with your open legs.
His other hand pinned down your thighs, making you stuck in a breath as he spread your soft flesh with his firm fingers.
With knit brows he pushed himself into your entrance, making you both gasp.
You fisted the sheets at the unfamiliar pressure, growing in intensity.
“Fuck…” He groaned as he worked into you, stretching out your tight walls with his thick cock.
You whimpered in pain as he buried himself inside of you, not stopping until his thighs touched yours.
He pulled out slightly, making your breath hitch as your insides burned.
The sheets wrestled as he changed positions, resting on his elbows to close the gap between you. His length bumped further into you, making you clench around him.
“Mr. Shelby.. I- I can’t..” you whimpered, writhing under him, looking to ease the feeling of fullness.
“Shh..” he soothed, hovering against your ear “It’ll feel good love, I promise.” His lips met your cheek softly, making you let out a breath.
With a concentration in his brow he pulled out slowly, making you gasp, empty and clenching around nothing.
His thick traps impeded your view, only giving you access to his shifting jaw and taut chest pressing into yours.
He plunged into you again with the bucking of hips, quicker this time, forcing himself inside of you.
You squeaked at the movement, feeling a pressure in your walls as he claimed you.
He began a steady rhythm, chasing pleasure with shaky breaths as he rocked in and out of you at a quick pace.
Your eyes squint shut as he stimulated you, sheathing you with his cock. The hair of his thighs tickled yours as he pounded in and out of you, rocking the bed.
He groaned lowly as you squeezed him, and began to pick up his intensity, harshly colliding with your body.
“Oh fuck..” he groaned with knit brows, fucking you hard. “Good girl, squeeze me like that.”
His praise withdrew a whimper from your throat, encouraging you to slide your hands over his back. Your fingers explored the muscles of his shoulders, shifting with his movements.
The continuous intrusion of his length nudged a spot inside of you, making your toes curl.
“Mr. Shelby..” you whined, holding onto his shifting shoulders for leverage. His body was warm and tough with muscle.
Your sounds encouraged him, and he rutted into you harder, repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you, sending bursts of pleasure down your legs.
Your nails dug into his flesh subconsciously, kneading his skin damp with sweat. He groaned, aroused by the pain of your nails in his flesh.
His breathing labored as he fucked you, fanning your face as his forehead fell against yours. You were spilling in arousal, squelching with his every movement.
Rapid breaths escaped your parted lips. Chasing the feeling, you arched your back, bumping into his chest. His sweat covered skin rubbed against yours as he fucked you.
“Are you close?”
Numb with pleasure your head nodded, unable to form words.
“Good girl..” he praised breathlessly, “good girl..” He rocked into you forcefully, moving your body back and forth on the mattress.
“I’m gonna-“ you paused, stunned by a wave of pleasure from his calculated thrusts, “Mr. Shelby..” your whimpered, helpless as your muscles tensed underneath him.
“Come for me sweetheart,” he panted, burying his head in your neck, “come for me.” His deep gravely voice pulled you over the edge.
“Oh fuck!” You yelped, convulsing as waves of pleasure wrecked through your body.
Your eyes squeezed shut in euphoria, mouthing incoherent words as he fucked you through your high, murmuring against your skin.
He moaned deeply as your spasming walls squeezed his length, making his pace waver for a moment.
“Fuck..” you moaned, wrestling the sheets with your squirming.
He didn’t stop, relentlessly fucking your overstimulated entrance with his thick length.
“Mr. Shelby.. it’s too much..” your nails dug into his back in pain.
“I’m almost there love,” he panted, red in the face as he neared his high.
His length continued to pry into you, deeper and harder as his desperation grew.
You squirmed instinctively, pulling yourself away from his cock.
He intercepted your resistance with a firm hand sliding up your throat. His grasp caught the breath in your lungs, making your eyes water.
“Fuck.. stay put love..” he groaned lowly, nudging his nose against your neck as he rutted in and out of you.
Your eyelids drooped at the pressure, lazily following the shifting muscles in his back.
“Ahhh..” he groaned deeply, flexing his core against yours. “Oh fuck…”
He came undone at last, emptying himself into you with a loud groan. “Christ..” he cursed with an open mouth, bucking his hips against yours as his warm seed filled you up.
His grasp tightened slightly as he tensed, unleashing a tear down your cheek and onto his hand.
His pace slowed to shallow rocking, as he came down from his high. Once satisfied, he pulled out with a slick wet noise, making your thighs shake.
His hand released from your throat as he caught his breath, lifting his head from yours to hover above you. His forehand fell against yours in exhaustion, leaving a bead of sweat on your face.
Without saying a word he leaned in, kissing your damp skin, removing the wetness with his lips.
You clenched your jaw, trying best to keep your emotions as bay as you turned your head from him, softly sniffling.
He pulled away from you, rolling to his back with a satisfied sigh as he reached for a cigarette on the nightstand.
While he was occupied you sat up slightly, pulling the covers over your exposed limbs.
As you did so your eyes caught a glimpse of red on the sheets. They wandered to your open thighs, widening at the sight of smeared blood.
You held a hand to you face, blinking in shock and turning to Tommy, “There’s blood!”
Your hand on his forearm turned his attention to you. “It’s okay love,” he took a drag of his cigarette, inhaling a fair amount of smoke, “It’s normal.” His free hand reached for yours, smoothing over your knuckles with his thumb as he let out a puff of smoke through pursed lips.
His touch unleashed a flood of tears from your eyes, which you quickly covered with your hand as they trickled down your face.
You sucked in short breaths, crying against your hand as your body shook.
“Eh, what’s the matter?” He asked softly, reaching for you.
You shook your head, refusing to speak the truth, instead letting it out in the form of tears, forming dark circles on his sheets.
“Talk to me love,” His voice held a tone of sincerity as he kept his eyes to your frame. “Please.”
You took in a shaky breath, swiping your face before letting down your hand. “I’m just a body to you.”
Your gaze was emotionless, frozen on the yellow wallpaper in front of you, dancing over each flower design.
With enough courage you turned your head to face him, pulling your watery eyes to his. “I don’t want to just be a body Thomas.”
The sound of his name on your lips made him freeze. It was vulnerable. Desperate. His cold expression fell, replacing with one of sympathy and warmth in the flicking of his eyes.
“You’re not.” He shook his head, putting his cigarette down and smoothing his other hand over your arm. You leaned into his touch, sucking in a shaky breath through your mouth and rolling onto his chest.
“You’re not just a body to me love.” He spoke against your hair, smoothing over your back with firm strokes.
You nestled against his chest, focusing on the sounds of his shallow breathing against your ear, slowing your tears.
“I’ll make you more than that.”
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starchaserfanatic · 6 months
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Does anyone else read fics that have absolutely zero conflict? And it’s all just nice and sweet?? Because reality is just such a kick in the teeth?? No? Just me?
Like let me have my silly little guys and let them be in love with no trauma whatsoever, okay? Okay, great. Just let them be silly.
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sp0o0kylights · 6 months
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Part One
The drive's short one. 
Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.
What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?
(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)  
"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.  
"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.
"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"
"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home." 
"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board." 
Of course they were.
"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon. 
"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe." 
"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.
Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors. 
"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.
"What?" 
"We..." She falters in front of her parents. 
"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.
"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.  
"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control. 
If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it. 
"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze. 
"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it." 
He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" 
Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold." 
"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"
"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them. 
Its worth it to see her shoulders relax. 
"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…" 
Steve pauses. 
Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."  
"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.
Hook, line, sinker.
Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to." 
"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen. 
Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.
The same one where Nancy very much isn't. 
That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.
xXx
Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy. 
She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--
But she also can't tell him she loves him.
So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.
 Play’s more basketball.
It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.
That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…
He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.
 Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy. 
He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.
That he should let her. 
Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to. 
She wants to be let go.
So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.
(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.
Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.
It's--something.
But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.
It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )
xXx
"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box. 
"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise. 
One, giant, never ending bruise. 
"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth. 
If you turn it sideways and squint anyway. 
"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face. 
The same one he's already getting looks for. 
"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."
The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head. 
"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?" 
Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.
The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit. 
(He had not gone to a hospital. 
None of them had.)  
"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off  as just….goofy.
Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.
 He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with. 
Just older, and with slightly better hair. 
"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously. 
He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?" 
"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves. 
The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him." 
"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.
(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.) 
It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle." 
"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"
"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend." 
See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game. 
They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer. 
(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.) 
"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner. 
"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low. 
Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose." 
Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.)  to say:
 "Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked." 
Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts." 
Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.
The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors. 
"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open. 
"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard. 
"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is. 
It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird. 
The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson. 
xXx
College rejection letters come in, one after the another.
Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.
Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.
Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly? 
It's not that bad. 
Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.  
He figures he has time to win her over. 
All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.
Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve. 
It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits. 
‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’ 
Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.
Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting. 
(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons. 
When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy. 
Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship. 
That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.
That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.
Better.
Not in a way Steve wants to put into words. 
Not in a way he wants to confront at all.) 
His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other. 
Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video. 
Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst. 
Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.
The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.
Chrissy Cunningham, was not. 
"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf. 
She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way. 
“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.” 
"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.
She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly." 
"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.
She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it. 
"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies." 
Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright. 
This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly. 
Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room. 
"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back. 
The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.
"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark." 
Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first  time in a long time, feels like things will be okay. 
He’ll be okay.
He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.
A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name. 
He likes it.
"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors. 
"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?" 
Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left. 
Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid. 
If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined. 
(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.) 
"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!" 
"I'm busy." He says flatly. 
"Ste~eeeve!" 
"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth. 
Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter. 
If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here. 
"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.” 
"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!" 
‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth. 
"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.” 
“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!” 
“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer. 
“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"
“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom. 
“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.
“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car. 
He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.
The one he swears he still has.
Supposedly. 
("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is. 
"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.
Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had. 
In a way no one ever had. 
Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"
"Ow, God Dustin--" 
"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!" 
"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him. 
Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend. 
He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it. 
It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)
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satellitespinner · 4 days
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mommy issues.. (e.w)
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synopsis: after moving into a comfy house with your four year old son you’re in desperate needs for a babysitter.. what better option than the broke university student next door..
content warnings: each chapter will contain its own warnings..
wc: tbd.
taglist: @flowersforvi @3lli3l0v3r (comment to be on the taglist <3)
ellie could make a short list on what she already knew about you.
1.) you moved into the small house next to hers exactly 2 weeks and 3 days ago.
2.) you were probably the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.
3.) your thighs looked magical in those shorts..
3.) you liked to garden
4.) you had a son. fuck
✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼   ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼   ҉  
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SERIES MASTERLIST!
┊͙chapter one. | wc: 2k.
ellie williams has new neighbours! and all of a sudden she’s a committed baby sitter? what?
chapter two | wc:
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kooeater · 17 days
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needy mami (m) | JJK
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human!jungkook x bunny!hybrid reader
smut/ fluff
warnings : pregnancy sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cowgirl/riding, bigdickjk, age gap, dilf!jk, pregnant!reader, hybrid au, boob worship, nipple play, fluffy smut
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For pregnant woman it’s normal to have hormonal changes, however.. being a bunny hybrid made the hormones more crazy. You were always a needy little thing, always wanted a nice fucking from your man, but it was different now.
Now, at 6 months pregnant, you were the most horniest living being on the planet. You craved for nothing more than dick. And not just any dick, dick from your baby daddy.
“I’m so needy right now daddy, please fuck me already. I’ve been waiting all day! ” you whine out to Jungkook as you climb on his lap, his tired figure slightly moving at the feeling of your pussy on his clothed cock. Although he had sweatpants on, he could feel himself throbbing from your heat.
You understood why he’d be a bit tired, him being 35 and you being 21 had a lot to do with your sex schedule, you both loved to fuck but you were extremely needy for him at all times, you being pregnant making your neediness higher than ever.
But still! You needed him!!
“Don’t sleep yet, I need you right now. I’m carrying your son the least you can do is touch me.” you whine out, you start to rub your heat on his growing boner, causing him to rut his hips up slightly, that alone making you let out a moan
“You’re so cute when you’re needy princess. I want to fuck you but, I’m very tired darling, how about you ride me hm?” your ears perk up at his words.
You didn’t care if he didn’t put in much work, you just wanted his cock inside of you. You needed dick! You quickly rid yourself of your silky white nightgown, in nothing but a pair of white undies, and Jungkook’s eyes devour the sight of you.
You carrying his son in your womb, your breast looking so round and full, you being so needy, just everything about you right now was about to make Jungkook bust his nut right then and there.
“I’m gonna ride this dick until next week.” you let out as a chuckle, earning one back.
He lets out a chuckle at your words, but soon he lets out a loud moan as you sunk down on his cock, letting it fill you up as it usually does.
His eyes doesn’t skip the way you shove your white panties to the side, making way for his dick to bury itself inside you. Your tight breeded pussy wrapping around his cock, ready to please him and be pleased.
You fully take him in, usually you don’t but tonight you needed all of him. It didn’t take long for you to start slightly bouncing up and down on his dick, making sure you’re not going too fast so you don’t end up hurting the baby.
Your thoughts soon left your head as you focused on the pleasure of riding your baby daddy
“look at you round with my baby and riding cock. Love you so much.” His words make you whine out loud, encouraging you to pick up your pace.
You bounce up and down a bit faster, making your tits bounce in front of Jungkooks face. The sight and feeling of your breast making contact with his face was enough to make him finish right then and there.
One of his hands firm their grasp on your hip as you were riding him, the other playing with your boobs, holding them and squishing them. His lips wrap around your nipples and suckle on them, making you most in ecstasy as he moans around your nipples, his tongue tasting the drops of breast milk that leaked out of them.
“you’re so deep inside me papi it feels so.. so good!” you managed to get out, the feeling of his cock playing with your insides, while knowing the nickname you gave him was the best thing you could have ever called him during sex.
You knew you were near cumming, when Jungkook started to rub your ears and cute white cotton tail. His tattooed hands rubbing your body, stimulating you, making you feel like your body was in pleasure felt fire.
“I’m so close daddy please don’t stop.” he thrust up into you, you still making sure your wrapped tight around his cock, ready to cum on him and take his cum deep in you. Loud moans and sounds of pleasure release from both of your mouths.
Jungkooks eyes devouring the sight of you creaming his length, white rings of cum forming at the base of his dick as you pounds up inside you. His cock releasing warm spurts of cum inside of you.
You hum and smile at the feeling of his cum deep inside of you. He keeps his dick inside you for some time, your body on top of his, your lips kissing his face and neck, kissing him because that’s all you want to do at the moment, just kisses all over him.
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hi guys omg this shit made me feel so 🎀🫶🏻🦢🍓🤍 like I just knew I had to post this. Hope you guys enjoy this, like and follow if you feel like it 💌 love you guys so much thanks for giving me a platform to release my inner daddy issues and sexual frustration!
- belle 🌹
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balletfilmss · 3 months
Note
can i request luke x fem reader where they’re both counselors and have a secret relationship where they sneak out tg a lot, then the camp finds out. thank u!
CLANDESTINE MEETINGS
pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader
synopsis: during one of your many secret meetups, you and luke get busted by your friends
warnings: like one cuss word, kissing, established relationship, clarrise + chris my beloveds <3
a/n: i’m sorry this took so long, classes just started back & i wanted to die. anyways. also literally what is chris & clarisse’s ship name? 😭
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hermes was the god of messengers, the god of travelers, the god of thieves. his children were welcoming to most, for anybody who appeared at camp half-blood had been funneled through cabin eleven at one point, and new campers would continue to be.
his children were mischievous and they were smart. and above all of that, they were sly, sneaky, and secretive.
so had you really been surprised when one of these children proposed keeping your relationship a secret?
it wasn’t like luke was ashamed of you and your relationship or anything, don’t get it wrong. no, he wished more than anything that he could stand on top of a table in the dining pavilion and scream to everyone that you were his. but he couldn’t.
the two of you had decided that with all the new rules regarding camper relations (which totally weren’t passed thanks to chris and clarisse or your friends from the aphrodite cabin) and the strictly good example you two were to set as head counselors, it was best that it stayed between you and him.
that was why about four months ago, the sneaking around had begun.
meetings behind the boathouse, in the woods and in every secluded area of camp that you two could find. secret smiles and looks that only the two of you could see. holding hands under the table at counselor meetings and whispering in each other’s ears during a capture the flag matches.
it was thrilling, really. like the two of you shared a secret that nobody else had a clue about, something that was seen only by the sun and the moon.
you had been keeping it up for four months unsuspected until one particularly cool night in july.
you hadn’t seen luke all day, you were exhausted from a day of extra long training and losing a capture the flag match, so you were feeling extra clingy when you met him behind the big house. not your greatest hiding place, but you missed him so much that you couldn’t make yourself care.
nobody would notice you two missing with the campfire going on to distract them anyways.
“hey, sweet girl,” he greeted you with a smile that was reserved for your eyes only. “how was your day? i feel like i haven’t seen you at all.”
“because you haven’t.” you groaned in reply, taking his hands in yours because it had been too long since you had done so. his hands were warm and enveloped yours perfectly and you never wanted to let go. “today was exhausting.”
“oh yeah? too tired to see me?” he asked with that sly little smirk of his.
obviously you weren’t, because if you were, you would’ve been sleeping away in your cabin instead of out here in the dark with him.
“clearly not.” you responded with an eye roll that gestured about to your surroundings.
“never too tired for me, huh?”
“shut up.”
and he did, because within less than five minutes, your mouth was on his and his back was pressed up against the building behind.
now, luke prided himself on many things, such as his self-control and diligence, his keen spatial awareness and sneakily ability to keep a secret. but when it came to you, all of those things were gone.
he melted at the mere sight of your eyes meeting his, and your touch was like the blissful fire of a thousand suns.
you weren’t much better when it came to him, with his pretty eyes and the sweet names he gave you.
when he held you in his arms it felt as though the gods had made a mistake of separating your body from his so that you had to endure seventeen groveling years apart before you found one another again.
you were so caught up in one another that you never heard the footsteps coming.
“i knew it!”
you nearly jumped out of your skin when chris’s voice met your ears.
you pried yourself away from luke and the two of you were met with clarisse and chris staring at you, mouths wide open. you were caught.
“um . .” luke mumbled. real smooth.
“we can explain—“
“there’s nothing to explain.” clarisse cut you off, a knowing little smirk on the corner of her mouth as her boyfriend still stared at you with wide eyes. “this is a terrible hiding place by the way.”
“i knew i should’ve taken connor’s bet that they were dating.” chris said.
okay, they had to be exaggerating. you and luke weren’t that obvious, were you?
“oh come on, connor doesn’t know anything.” luke said with a nervous laugh, as if there were a way to cover up what had just been discovered. with the way his hands were still on your waist and fingers hooked through your belt loops, that wasn’t very plausible.
“dude, half the camp knows.” clarisse snorted.
“they do not!” you protested.
clearly, there was no saving your secrets now.
“you guys literally hold hands under the table at counselor meetings.” chris pointed out.
“how would you know? you’re not even a counselor.” you argue with him, but the little smile on luke’s face wasn’t helping your case.
“i have friends.” chris crossed his arms. “they tell me things.”
“he’s lying, silena told him.” clarisse shrugged.
“hey!”
you couldn’t help but laugh at that. accepting your fate, you looked at luke, who sucked air in through his teeth and said, “guess we’re busted.”
“yeah you are. now come back to the campfire and help me with these kids before they kill me.” chris said to his brother.
succumbing to counselor duties, you and your boyfriend emerged from your hiding spot and walked back to the campfire hand-in-hand, the secret out.
when the two of you took your seats in front of the fire and luke pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek, chris twisted his face up in mock disgust from luke’s other side.
“you know what, go back to hiding. i don’t wanna see that shit.”
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fictionkinfessions · 6 months
Note
Reading fanfictions and constantly thinking, “I wouldn’t fucking say that.”
🐸
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hanasnx · 4 months
Note
you keep teasing hayden by calling him dad and he finally gets fed up with it and decides to turn the tables on you by making you scream for dad in your trailer 🫶🫶
MINORS DNI 18+ PART ONE ✩ PART TWO ✩ PART THREE NOTES: keep going im close—
"Who? Who, honey?" HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN goads, voice heightened by effort and breathlessness, fighting off the overwhelming sensation of every inch of his cock stuffing your guts. Big hands smack onto your ass, handling it to yank you back into his thrusts. He knows you like this, your pussy's slobbering all over him, sucking him back in every time he tries to pull out all the way. "Who's that you're calling for?" Clutching onto the sheets, you rip your face away from being buried to scream your answer as he relentlessly bullies your insides.
"Dad! Fuck— Dad! Feels so fucking good, soo fucking good. Please don't stop, dad, please!" you cry, you whimper, you keen. Rambling anything you can think of to appease him as you imagine bruises form inside of you. Your soft and sensitive tissue is swollen from abuse, being fucked hard by a dirty old man that's an expert at eliciting a reaction out of you. Serves you right for joking around.
"Calling me that all around campus like you fucking meant it. You want me to know you're a freak? Huh? Is that what you are?" A powerful scowl adorns his features, creasing his thick brows as he forms his tongue over his upper lip, condemning you as you plea.
"No! No! M'not! I swear!"
A particularly sharp thrust causes you to yelp, tensing your entire body. His large hand pins your head down by the back of your neck, using it as leverage to draw you back onto his cock, make sure you can't run away. "You wanna lie to your father? S'good way to get grounded."
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tieronecrush · 5 months
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🎃 trick or treat 🎃
summary: it's halloween and joel's taking your girls trick-or-treating with you in a family costume. feeling uncomfortable in his clothes and his skin, he's on edge most of the evening but does his best to disguise it in order to not spoil the fun. back at home, when his girls lightheartedly tease him about everything he already thought about himself, you're sure to end the night showing joel exactly how you feel about him and his body.
wc: 10k (oops?)
warnings: established relationship/married, canon divergent (no outbreak, ellie & sarah are both his kids, sort of obscure with if they're both his bio kids/your kids - basically y'all are a cute lil family either way! also joel is ~40, no age mentioned for reader!), halloween, family/group costumes, DOMESTIC JOEL!!!, fluff, body insecurities, age insecurities, joel has minor sensory issues?, his kids poke fun at him, sensitive joel, SMUT. it kind of is a thing for the basically the second half, descriptions of joel's body, tummy & thigh worship, oral (m receiving), cowboy rule (for a costume), unprotected piv, lowkey sub!joel for a lil bit, reader is "giving cunt" according to bestie el, then quickly gets back to dom!joel as he gets his confidence back, joel gets that strength in an adrenaline rush that moms get lifting cars off babies but his is for chasing a nut, also, dirty talk!
a/n: my contribution to spooky season, basically at the buzzer lol. this started with me thinking how cute it would be for joel to dress up and go trick-or-treating with his kids, and ended with wanting to s*** his d*** big time. anyways, enjoy my version of halloween with joel, and thank you to @kiwisbell for screaming about this scenario with me and as always a big thanks to my sweet, sweet girlfriend @northernbluess for beta-ing!!!!
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Brought on much later than the northern states, fall in Texas is not quite an impactful sight. The one thing that can’t be beaten though is the Texas sun; shining across expansive horizons all times of year, temperatures of the light shifting with the seasons. Orange evening sun stretches across the sky and seeps down in between the leaves speckled with changing colors while Joel’s truck coasts down the neighborhood street. Kids retreat from running around in the road when his car approaches, returning right back to their gameplay when he’s through. Half are dressed up, a medley mix of witches, zombies, vampires, Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Disney Princesses, and countless outfits that he has no idea what they’re referencing.
Fibrous, white faux spiderwebs litter the front porches of the houses lining the street, Jack-O-Lanterns carved and lit up stack on the stairs or create a path along the front walkways. Some of the pumpkins’ faces are wrinkly and sagging, signs of overeagerness from when the fall season started earlier this month. A handful of scarecrows find themselves pitched in the middle of yards with hay spilling out of them, and some of the houses have turned out an expense to get those motion-sensor decorations — the ones really intended to scare the kids that will be unleashed on the neighborhood to trick-or-treat this evening.
Rolling to a stop as he turns into the asphalt driveway, throwing the truck in park, he sits in the cab for a still moment, staring at the signs of life scattered around his family’s house. Four pumpkins, gutted and showing off their faces, a family feud that reached a compromise when it was decided that yes, they would carve pumpkins but no, they would not sit to rot on the front porch all month long; the corn stalks wrapped around the posts of the porch, tied with burlap twine and arranged with sprigs of fall foliage; pots of colorful mums framing the path up to the house, carefully selected by your eye and less delicately planted in their terracotta vessels by Joel’s hands. 
Aside from the seasonal decorations, the usual markings of the Miller family were easily spotted: chalk drawings on the shared sidewalk in front of the yard and along the driveway, replaced every weekend by Sarah once the old was washed or worn away; Ellie’s bike discarded on the front lawn, small tire tracks digging up the grass, no matter how many times Joel and you have asked her to put it away when she’s done; the porch swing that Joel built for you, swaying in the breeze and now unoccupied — unusual for the evening routine around the time that Joel comes home from work. He’s normally greeted by his girls, not merely their artifacts. But tonight is a different night, much busier than the slow, molasses life Joel gets to enjoy in the colder weather.
Gathering his lunch bag from the bench seat and bunching up his jacket in the same hand, Joel climbs out of the car and walks into the open garage, leaving his tools behind in the flatbed to be dealt with tomorrow morning. Passing your parked car, he shakes his head with a subtle smile as he closes the driver’s side door of your SUV left open. He can picture you now, running around after picking the girls up from school, mental space occupied by getting everything and everyone together to make it out the door before the sun went down completely. 
There’s a trail of evidence to support his musings: a lonesome plastic bag filled with groceries left on top of the car, Sarah’s purple jacket looped through the handle of the garage fridge, probably left behind after she went looking for a juice, and Ellie’s army green backpack tossed on the ground in front of the shoe racks lining the wall next to the door. None of that would fly had you been your usual focused self — more often than not, you’re the parent to put their foot down and keep the girls in line while Joel is the total pushover.
Along his way inside, he picks up all the left-behind items, balancing everything in his hands while he steps into the mudroom. Ellie’s backpack gets shoved into her designated cubby, and Sarah’s jacket gets wrapped on a hook screwed into the wall as Joel kicks off his work boots. After depositing his own belongings in their spots, lunch bag in his cubby and jacket on the hook next to Sarah’s, he grabs his boots in one hand, leaning out the doorway to place them on top of the shoe rack. Closing the door behind him, he picks up the singular bag of groceries left on top of your SUV and pads across the tile further into the house. Immediately, he’s embraced by the warmth radiating from the kitchen, the smells of tomatoes, onions, garlic, and more wafting into his nose causing a smile to stretch across his face and his stomach to rumble. 
Every year that he’s known you, without fail, you use Halloween night as an excuse to cook up your family-favorite chili recipe. Sure, it doesn’t get too cold for October in Texas, but damn, does he look forward to the night every year simply for a bowl of it. Laboring over the prep and slow-cooking it all day long, anyone who tries it can taste the care in each bite; like a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders that lasts with him for the entire evening spent outside with the kids.
The pleas of his stomach lead him straight into the kitchen, his smile growing wider when he sees you standing over the kitchen counter, affixing a sheriff badge to the cow print vest laid out in front of you. He strides over to your side, resting his palm on your lower back and swiping his thumb against the material of your shirt while he leans in to press a kiss to the top of your head, drinking in your scent and feeling the ache of missing you all day. Losing focus from your task, you turn toward him with a bright smile, a quiet sigh leaving your lips, and your shoulders relaxing from their tensed position. Wordlessly, he folds forward, catching your lips in a lingering kiss. Heat pushes against his chest through his denim shirt, your hands skating from his pecs, up and across his shoulders, and down his arms to rest on his biceps. The motions raise goosebumps in their wake, trailing down his spine with a tepid drip.
Joel steals another kiss before he stands up straight again, voice rasping from yelling over powerful tools all day and volume low to keep the semblance of a private moment between the two of you for as long as possible; anything louder would expose his arrival, bombarding him with questions and conflicts to resolve between his daughters.
“Hey, baby.” He greets you with one fleeting kiss pressed to your forehead, hand at your lower back now rubbing side to side, fingers carefully lifting the fabric and pressing the tips of them into your deliciously soft skin. 
Turning back to the vest, you drop your hands from his arms not before giving them a gentle squeeze, “Hi, Joel. Good day?”
He shrugs, unable to step away from you just yet, “It was fine — much better now. And I take it yours has been a busy one?”
Joel holds up the plastic bag of groceries with two fingers, one corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing smirk. His hip pops out as he leans against the counter, the smirk turning into a smile when you grimace. His heartbeat skips when your laugh fills his ears, the sound still exciting him after all these years, and you stand over the bag to take a peek inside.
“S’all good. Non-perishables.” It’s Joel’s turn to laugh, shaking his head with a breathy chuckle as he places the bag on the counter, unloading its contents into the pantry while you go about recapping your day for him.
In the midst of you speaking, the tumble of footsteps down the stairs draws his attention away, eyes focusing on the open threshold that leads from the living room into the kitchen. As the quickened steps grow closer, Joel turns to you and holds up three fingers, counting down with them. When he lowers his last finger, a mop of curly hair, a bouncing ponytail, and a whirlwind of chaos disrupts the initial peace of his return home.
“Hi girls, how was today?” he starts before a cacophony of noise fills the kitchen. Skidding to a stop in front of him, he exchanges a look with you before facing his daughters, already overwhelmed with their two voices talking over the other.
“Dad, Dad, Sarah said—”
“Dad, Ellie’s saying that I said—”
Holding his hands up, he flicks his eyes between his two girls. Sarah, the older of the two at eleven years old, stands in front of him with her arms crossed and brow furrowed — a look he is all too familiar with, the similarities between him and her emphasized with her annoyance. Ellie, your youngest, stands with her fists clenched at her sides, her mouth twisted up in frustration and the same furrowed brow as her sister. She looks so much more like you at the moment, only a nine-year-old version, calling back on times Joel can remember of you giving him that very look.
However, with their tempers, there’s no doubt that they’re his kids.
Dropping his hands back to his sides, he rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath before addressing them.
“So, what’s going on now?” he asks, brows raising and head tilting when the girls each take a sharp inhale, about to speak over each other again, “One at a time. Ellie.”
Sarah rolls her eyes at her younger sister being called upon first, expectantly looking at her sister with annoyance still painting her face. Ellie shoots her a smug look before turning back to Joel, drawing a pout onto her lips to sell her story. He can’t say it doesn’t work for a second, it always will with these two and they know it, but with a quick glance in your direction, he sees you turned away from your task, watching the drama from the sidelines. Mustering the strength to stand his ground against the sweetness of his girls, he clears his throat and listens with his best poker face as Ellie begins explaining.
“Sarah said she wouldn’t trade all her Skittles for my Three Musketeers even though she knows I hate Three Musketeers and she said last week when we were getting our costumes that she would—”
“I never said that, Dad! She’s lying—” Sarah gestures with her hands as if to physically point out the obvious falsehoods in Ellie’s story. Spiraling back out of the fleeting control he had over the situation, the kids get riled up again, yelling over each other, and inching closer. The dad-instincts kick in and he grabs one of each of their shoulders, separating the two of them and turning them to face him again as he puts on what you affectionately call his ‘no-bullshit’ voice.
“Okay, okay, okay! Enough arguin’ about candy that you don’t even have yet. Ellie, you don’t even know if a single house is gonna give ya Three Musketeers, and you don’t even know if Sarah is gonna get any Skittles. Save the trade negotiations for tonight or tomorrow morning. ‘Sides, you gotta pay the Dad Tax before either of y’all get to trade around your pickings.”
“What?”
“No way!”
Joel smiles, waving his pointer finger between his daughters with a single nod of his head. “See? Something y’all can agree on. Now go get washed up for dinner and plot how you can hide your candy from me and Mom.”
As quickly as they came in, they rush right back out, this time a united force scheming against their parents. Joel huffs out a breathy laugh, shaking his head to himself as he turns back to face you. Met with a growing smile, you unravel your arms crossed in front of your chest to pick up the vest from the counter.
“Nice conflict resolution there, hon. Now I won’t see a single piece of candy.” You throw a pout at him, bottom lip jutting out as he steps over to you, one hand splaying on your hip and thumb rubbing languid circles.
“Don’t worry, baby, I think I know every single one of their hiding spots from how many times they had to move their candy last year. They won’t even notice anything's gone.” With a quick wink, he leans in for a kiss, short and sweet. Standing up straight, the smile on your face mirrors his, your left index finger reaching up to fit into the valley of his dimple.
“Are we bad parents to be scheming how to steal from our children?” you question, biting back a laugh.
“I think that’s just part of parenting, darlin’.”
The laugh you held back escapes you, rolling your eyes playfully at his facetious answer; the vest in your hands catches his eyes again, and he sighs to himself as he holds a hand out for it.
“So you really did find a cow print vest for me? How lucky.” Sarcasm coats his tone and you lift the material, depositing it in his open palm.
“It is lucky, isn’t it? I think you’re going to look great in your costume. Got all the perfect parts, plus you can wear your own jeans and boots. Economical.”
“You sure you need me for this group costume?”
“Joel. You’re literally one of the main characters from the damn movie. And the girls really want you to dress up and take them trick-or-treating. Plus it’s probably going to be one of, if not the last year that we get to do all this as a family. Our kids are growing up.”
“Don’t remind me, means m’getting older too,” he grumbles under his breath, eyes falling to the fabric in his hand.
It’s true what they say about having kids: the days are long, but the years are short.
At times, Joel wishes he could pull each hair out of his head instead of dealing with the shit his kids bring to him sometimes — “Dad, I got called into the principal’s office.” “Dad, I threw a softball and broke the window.” “That’s so unfair, Dad! Why do you have to be so mean?” It’s easy to get lost in the mess that is his family, but it’s a mess he loves. It feels like it was only yesterday that he was becoming a father when Sarah was born, getting a grasp on the whole thing and then Ellie came along. What he would do without you there by his side, he doesn’t have a clue.
Like flipping through a scrapbook, he can remember every year prior for his girls. In a flash, they’ve grown from dressing up as princesses and unicorns — a dragon for Ellie — to being Spy Kids and vampires. His oldest is verging on becoming a teenager, and if he knows his daughters, he knows that once Sarah quits dressing up each year, when she asks to go to her friends’ houses instead of spending the night with Mom and Dad, Ellie will want to do the same as her older sister, always looking up to her despite their differences.
There’s only so much more time for his kids to be kids, even if they may always feel like the tiny baby girls he held in his arms. All he wants to do is to protect them, keep them under his eye as long as he can, but he can hear your voice prying his grasp away from them, encouraging him to let them grow, let them experience the world as he got to do when he was younger. You’ll remind him that you were a teenage girl once, reassuring him that they’re always going to need him. He knows it’s all going to sneak up on him; one day, he’s going to pull into the driveway and notice the lack of chalk drawings. He might even be happy at first about Ellie’s bike being put away, but when he goes into the garage to work on some of his projects, he’ll notice the smallest bit of dust on it from disuse.
Stepping away from him to shuffle across the kitchen, you reach on your tiptoes to pull out four bowls from the cabinet. Joel steps over behind you, a hand on your back as he intercepts your movements, grabbing the ceramic dishes and handing them to you.
Like a shadow, he follows behind you as you walk over to the pot filled with dinner, eagerly watching over your shoulder with his chest pressed against your back and hands on your waist as you lift the lift. Aromas waft with the steam rising, the delectably rich dish slowly bubbling as it finishes melding altogether. It smells like home, always the mark of the changing of the seasons in the Miller household, and one of the little traditions that he so appreciates you creating for your family. Just like the way you make crinkle cookies and still sign presents from Santa at Christmas, despite the fact that your daughters found out about that a couple of years ago from a yappy kid at school.
Joel was very close to driving over to his house and letting his parents know how he felt about their kid murdering the magic of Christmas for his girls.
All he can hope is that these little traditions continue even when the girls are grown up; the four of you gathering around the table for your annual chili dinner before they head off to hang out with friends and you two are left to watch cheesy Halloween movies and hand out candy to children that remind you of your daughters.
With another deep breath, warmth surrounds him. Joel’s lips find the spot just under your ear, kissing gently before he rests his chin on your shoulder, “Smells so good, baby. Have I told you how much I love you?”
A breathy, incredulous laugh falls from your lips as you stir the pot’s contents around, your smile sticking around as you counter, “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m feeding you.”
A dramatic, exaggerated gasp sharply inhales into his lungs, standing up straight and patting his hands on your sides, “Absolutely not, darlin’. I love you all the time—”
“But especially when I feed you,” you finish, turning out of his arms to grab the stack of bowls. He stops your motions by wrapping his arms around your waist, feeling the press of you against his torso and relishing in the heat of your body against his. Curling up like a cat in the sun, he nudges his nose against your hairline, peppering kisses along the contours of your face.
In between kisses, he says word by word, over and over, “I. Love. You. My. Beautiful. Wonderful. Incredible. Wife.”
“Alright, alright! Gosh, you’re clingy,” you tease, leaning back to look into his eyes with a playful glint in your eye and a smirk held tight in your lips, “I love you too, my beautiful, wonderful, incredible husband.”
Your free hand smooshes his cheeks together and tugs him down gently to exchange a tender kiss. It ends much too soon for Joel, him chasing your lips and pouting when you turn away to start serving up dinner.
“Better go tell the girls dinner’s ready before they’ve finished plotting how to stow away candy in the floorboards.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, punctuating the conversation with a cheeky smack to your ass, scampering away quickly before you can pretend to scold him.
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Tugging at the material across his stomach, Joel combs his eyes over his reflection in the mirror of your en-suite bathroom. Rolling his shoulders back, the fabric of the yellow and red plaid flannel pulled taut, lifting the hem a couple of inches and showing off the skin of his softened tummy. Dark curls of hair litter the center of the sliver of skin, trailing down under the waist of his dark wash jeans. He doesn’t bother tucking the shirt in, giving himself the breathing room of the few inches at the hem. Fingers grip the thick fabric, sharply pulling it back down to lay over his jeans again.
Picking up the cow-print vest you were adorned with the plastic gold Sheriff badge downstairs in the kitchen, he’s taken back to a few weeks ago at the Halloween store.
You and he had opted to spend Saturday morning taking Sarah and Ellie to pick out their costumes for the holiday, letting them run free until they decided on a shared costume for once. Sarah quickly picked out her size in the Jessie costume, and all of the family agreed to be different characters from the Toy Story movie.
Ellie wandered the aisles, searching for the perfect combinations to create her ideal costume, which was, of course, the mechanical spider toy with the baby doll head that the kid Sid builds in the film. She returns to where Joel is standing with you, staring at the walls of costumes to find something for the both of you; he looks down at his youngest, jumping minutely when he’s faced with a mutilated baby doll mask, shiny plastic reflecting him in the surface.
“Ellie. You can’t be the creepy baby doll,” he sighs, hand falling to his hip as he rests his weight on it, the other leg stepping out while he slowly shakes his head.
Tipping the mask up to the top of her head, Ellie stomps her feet, shoulders falling and head leaning back as she groans in complaint, “Why not, Dad?” She draws out his parental title, kicking the toe of her shoe against the buffed tiles of the storefront that remains empty eleven out of twelve months of the year.
“You’re gonna scare the little kids, and it’ll be your mom and I who are dealing with the angry parents.”
Ellie huffs out a breath, reaching up to snatch the mask off, turning on the heel of her sneaker, and stomping off to go find another costume. Turning his attention back to you at his side, he notices a cheeky smile on your face as you find your size in a woman’s Buzz Lightyear costume.
“What? What are you laughin’ at?” he questions, his lips tugging up in a grin.
“Oh, nothing. Jus’ that you told our daughter she can’t be the creepy baby doll 'cause you’d be the one scared of her.” A laugh takes over the end of your sentence, a flash of your bright smile widening his own.
“Did not. It’s ‘cause we’d have a bunch of crying little kids and judging parents to deal with.”
“Sure, honey, sure. It’s okay if you’re scared.”
Stepping closer to you, he pinches your side playfully, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you against his side. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, speaking softly, “Know me too well, baby…”
Your free hand pats his chest affectionately and you unravel from his hold. Joel takes your hand before you get far, intertwining your fingers together while you both shuffle along the wall of costumes. The plastic bags shine, displaying cartoonish outfits of various characters. The exaggerated smiles of the models give him the heebie-jeebies, shuddering his shoulders at the thought that any grown person would be that excited to wear itchy polyester once before letting it collect dust in their closet and giving it away before next Halloween.
Halting in front of the costume you were looking for Joel, you bend down to flick through the sizes, your lips pulling together in a thoughtful pucker. Standing back up straight next to him, your teeth toy your bottom lip left to right, eyes scanning for any other options before you turn toward him.
“Can’t find what you’re lookin’ for, baby?”
With a shrug, you respond, “They have the costume the girls wanted you to wear, but they don’t have your size. Think I can find some stuff at the thrift store or TJ Maxx or online to make the costume up if that’s okay—”
“Whatever you need to do. S’fine.”
“I’m sorry, hon, but you don’t need to worry about it, I’ll find everything.”
“Said s’fine, darlin’. Don’t even need to dress up, really.” A small seed of shame is planted in his gut, insecurity watering it and causing it to grow, branching off to tangled in his chest. Comfort eases him out of the spiral when your hands find his chest, rubbing softly and tilting your head to meet his gaze with pure affection.
“Still gotta dress up with us, hon. Who’s gonna be the Woody to my Buzz if it isn’t you? Can’t dress up as one half of the best friend duo without my best friend,” you grin, standing on your toes to catch his lips in a gentle kiss, which ends too soon for his taste despite being in the middle of the shop.
Vest shrugged onto his shoulder, and he gives himself another once over in his full outfit, the same insecurity from a few weeks ago pouring down to cultivate his shame. He doesn’t look the same as he did when he met you, even the same as he did last year. Graying hair and salt and pepper beard, lines next to his eyes and across his forehead, only deepened when he furrows his brow at the look of him in his costume.
He looks ridiculous.
Better to get this night over with, let his girls enjoy themselves, and attempt to forget his discomfort in the outfit. Picking up his cheap cowboy hat that arrived in the mail earlier that week, he avoids another look in the mirror before he slips out of the bathroom, eyes focused on the toes of his boots while he walks out the door of your bedroom, past the full-length mirror next to your closet and the small round one on your vanity.
No need to foul his mood and spoil the fun. It’s for his girls. 
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The screams and laughter of children echo into the deepening night sky, the street bright from the lamps lining it along with porch lights staying on, open garage doors, all signaling a welcoming to the trick-or-treaters to come and grab their haul from each vast bowl or cauldron of candy.
Blurs of costume cross below Joel’s sightline as he walks hand-in-hand with you, kids running around blindly, the safety of such a crowd in the small neighborhood blanketing them with trust that they’ll be able to find their way home wherever they end up. Sarah and Ellie are ten paces ahead, moving quickly and efficiently to “maximize their candy collection”. Ellie’s words, after she presented her hand-drawn map of their neighborhood and the one across the main road, highlighting which houses are notorious for King Size treats and noting which ones give out toothbrushes or nothing at all.
The collar of his flannel is tightened around his neck from the string of his chestnut cowboy hat. Pulled down to rest on his clavicle, the body of the hat swings against his back as he walks, only adorning the top of his head for a few photos that you insisted on dragging out the tripod and self-timer for in the middle of the living room. He took the rest of the photos you wanted, maybe a bit too eagerly getting out of the frame and relaxing the slightest bit behind the camera. Photo evidence of how laughable he looks does not need to exist en masse. With a sigh, he reaches a hand up to tug the string down for what feels like the tenth time in thirty minutes of walking, relief felt for a few seconds before it slides back up to the base of his throat, flipping up the collar of his shirt with it.
Denim from his dark wash bootcut jeans starts to dig into his hips, roughening the skin there from his strides and their inch-too-small size from the year prior. These were deemed his “nice” jeans, per your request, only pulled out a handful of times a year for occasions that he was meant to look nicer than his raggedy Levi’s, covered in spots from paint, wood stain, oil, or dirt, the fraying, white strings hanging from the hems and ripping when caught under his step — all the signs of his day-to-day life. What he’s comfortable in.
These — these are not comfortable, not worn in enough to feel buttery against his skin, and not returning to his size even after washing and line drying. These are stiff, formed to his skin and resisting a tightness with each swing of his legs. The fresh material rubs against his bare skin underneath, the waist of his boxers falling an inch or two down to create the perfect space for the waistband to chafe. He’s tempted to pause the two of you walking along, long enough to tuck in the material of the flannel, but quickly decides against it when he thinks about the exaggeration of his stomach with the form-fitting, tucked shirt stretched over it.
Occupied in his thoughts, he barely notices that you've slowed down until you come to a stop at the end of a driveway, two streets over from your own home, waiting as your daughters wait in line for their packaged sugar. 
You hold onto his bicep with your opposite hand, leaning your weight against his side. Like a weighted blanket, in the interim of a hug from you, he takes on the change to his equilibrium, relishing in the comforting press of your body against him. Easing away his anxieties and his insecurities that, of course, had to be present for this wholesome, once-a-year family night; he rests his chin on your head, breathing in the smell of your rosemary and mint shampoo, tingling his nostrils and drinking down the scent he’s so familiar with.
His focus draws to Sarah, hair in a French braid pulled away from her face and cherry red cowboy hat on her head, and Ellie, lime green face paint that she insisted on and an antenna sticking up from the top of her head and exaggerated, pointed green ears all attached to the same headband. The two of them are near the front of the queue for candy at this particular house, the process a bit more involved with a haunted graveyard required to pass through to earn your sweet reward. 
All she’d been saying the whole night since getting dressed had been “The claaaaaw!” or “I have been chosen!”. She screams the latter in the face of a teenager who pops out from a bush to scare her, completely unphased as she sneaks past him, grabbing a handful of candy for her and Sarah, running back down the path with her older sister before they pause to distribute the goods.
Joel lifts your joined hands, hooking his arm over your shoulder and laying your arm across your chest as he gathers you closer.
“So how many cavities do you think we’ll be paying for ‘cause of tonight’s candy haul?” he wonders aloud, a smile ticking up the side of his mouth when you giggle at his joke. It never gets old, being able to make you laugh, and it’s like a weed whacker to the strangling vines of his insecurities growing tightly in his chest. A looseness that gives him the chance for a deep breath, gratitude wilting the branches as he studies the grin on your face, the admiration twinkling in your eyes.
“Probably should be callin’ the dentist to see if they have a two-for-one discount.” It’s his turn to laugh at your response, tautening his arm around your shoulders to tow you closer to him, your head tilting back as you swing your front toward him. Joel bends his neck, pecking your lips with a smile before he looks back toward his daughters walking back to the two of you.
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Annoyance thumbs the bruise of shame, driving his frustrations higher; his hand reaches up again with a huff, yanking the string away from his neck, “Thing’s like a damn noose…”
“Jus’ take it off, hon, I’ll carry it for you,” you sweetly suggest, swinging your joined hands between your bodies.
“But, you got it for me…” he mumbles guiltily, a worry in his voice over your potential irritation with him. Ever the masochist, Joel argues with you, not wanting to disappoint. He knew he should have just kept his mouth shut—
Pausing in your steps, you hang behind him long enough to snatch the hat off his back, releasing it from around his neck and depositing it on your head in one smooth movement. Taking his hand again, you continue, unphased by his complaints and happy to hold onto the new accessory.
At the next house, the two of you wait at the end of the driveway for the girls; Joel taps the side of his pointer finger on the brim as you look up at him, a cheeky smile growing on his face as a thought distracts from his festering doubts. His voice lowers, rasping as he speaks only to you, attempting to disguise the conversation from all the people milling about.
“Y’know, there are consequences for stealing a cowboy’s hat, baby.” Wetting his lips with the quick swipe of his tongue, his hands drift to your waist, fingers stretching to skim the top of your ass, dangerously close to grabbing a handful in front of everyone.
“M’well aware of those consequences, cowboy. Why d’you think I took it?” You shoot him a wink that goes straight down below the belt, a brazen flash of mischief in your eyes, the reflections of yellow lamplight lighting them up further. 
Gripping his biceps, your nimble fingers squeeze gently while your thumbs rub massaging circles into his slightly flexed muscles. A nearly inaudible hum of a moan rolls from your chest, one of his hands gathering the polyester material of your dress tightly at the sound. Beckoning him to fold forward with one look, he molds his lips to yours in a supple kiss. It lasts only the length of an inhale, drinking in the taste of your lips before your warmth is fleeting, hands patting his chest in a signal to wrap it up.
He grumbles, irritation heating under his collar as he itches to get home and for the night to be over, now for more than one reason. You laugh softly at his annoyed pout, poking his chest as you tease, “What? Mad ‘cause you got a snake in your boot?”
“More like in my jeans…” he mumbles under his breath, loud enough for you to hear and playfully jab his arm, shaking your head as you breathe out a chuckle from your nose.
“Nice, Miller. In a costume for a kid’s movie no less.”
He matches your laugh, shrugging when you turn in his arms, back to him as you await your daughters to make their way back to the both of you. His arms drape around your hips, tugging you into his chest to press against him comfortably, the plush-filled wings of your costume padding you against his torso. Lips find your ear, chin resting on your shoulder as he responds, “What’s the saying from the movie? To infinity and beyond? Reckon that’s where I’ll be takin’ you by the end of tonight.”
“Joel!” you attempted to chide, your laughter exposing your real feelings over the suggestive comment, laying your arms over his. The girls walk toward the two of you, and he takes a second to press an open-mouth kiss to your neck, nipping at your skin before unfurling himself from you. A light smack on the side of your ass is the punctuation to the teasing, Joel standing up straight and taking your hand.
“Giddy-up, partner,” he murmurs before turning his attention to Sarah and Ellie, overly excited and completely calm. “Whatcha y’all get this time? Anything good?”
They answer over each other and he nods along, corralling them to start to walk to the next house, “Alright, mission accomplished at this house. Onto the next, we gotta get this wagon a-movin’! Only got another hour in me, girls.”
Protests whine against his announcement and your daughters start to walk faster, determined to complete their hit-list for the houses with the good stuff. You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as Joel looks over at you, feigning innocence.
“What? Got a bad back, bein’ out in the cold makes it worse.”
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Now back at home, the four of you are gathered in the living room, costumes all on still as you seek out the comfort and warmth of the soft furnishings and blankets. Joel lounges on the couch, you next to him, back leaning against his side while your legs stretch out on the rest of the sofa. Ellie and Sarah have taken to the floor in front of the coffee table, massive pillowcases dumped out and beginning to be sorted. Every so often, you or Joel get up with the sound of the doorbell, passing out candy to the dwindling number of trick-or-treaters. Eventually, the intrusion stops completely, the TV playing a bad, kitschy Halloween movie per the request of the girls.
They trade their earnings, and you and Joel steal on the sly, both from the bowl you were handing out and from Sarah and Ellie’s piles. Wrappers are strewn around the floor and across the surface of the coffee table, the sound of another torn open by the girls making you sigh and sit up.
Holding out your hand, you shake your head, beckoning for the treat with your fingers, “Okay, Ellie. No more candy. You’re not going to be able to go to sleep if you keep eating it now, it’s too late.”
Ellie whines, rolling her head back with a groan before pleading her case, “Please, Mom, just this last one! And then I’ll be done, promise. Please.”
Joel chuckles when she shoots you the same puppy dog eyes that he gives to you to get what he wants, knowing his smirk grows wider when you fold easily. Shooting your head over to him, you announce to the whole room, “No more candy for anyone. C’mon girls, put it all back in your bags.” 
Calmness finds itself back in the room once all the complaints are lodged with you, the girls lying down to watch the movie while you continue to sit with Joel. Spaced out as he focuses on the film, his attention is grabbed when he hears the crinkle of wrappers and glances around to find all three of his girls indulging further.
With the remote from his lap, he pauses the movie, pouting as he exclaims, “Hey! What happened to not havin’ any more candy? If I can’t have anymore, y’all can’t either.”
Sneaking the last bite of her fun-size Snickers bar, Ellie giggles and shrugs, always the smart aleck, “Well, you are gettin’ a little pudgy, Dad, maybe less candy’ll help.”
Sarah and you giggle at her lighthearted teasing, and Joel waves it off with a breathy chuckle, leaning back against the cushions as Sarah chimes in with her jests, “Yeah, think you’re getting a little fluffy, Dad. Better to lay off now than at Christmastime with all Mom’s cookies.”
Joel attempts to defend himself from the teasing by threatening their candy supply, eager to end the conversation as the back of his neck heats up, “If m’already gettin’ pudgy then I guess that permits me to eat all your candy.”
They both are in a fit of giggles, continuing to tack on silly comments as Joel sits quietly on the couch, trying to mask the way the words worm their way in, feeding the shame and insecurity that was already festering in his chest from the last few weeks.
You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a smile as you laugh softly, “Alright, alright, enough. Think that’s the sign that it’s time for bed. C’mon, up up up.” Before standing, you pat Joel’s thigh and shoot him a carefully concerned look, but he wipes away your worry by sending you a warm smile back, laying his hand over yours and squeezing gently. 
Joel stays downstairs to clean up, the girls both saying goodnight before you follow them upstairs to get them ready for bed. Gathering candy wrappers in his fists, he throws them away in the kitchen, stomach rolling as he replays the small comments from minutes ago. He knows it was teasing, all in good fun as it always is between his girls and you, but he can’t shake the heaviness inside of him, the hot prickles of shame when he passes by the mirror in the hallway on his way back to the living room.
The bowl of extra candy you were handing out gets placed back on the coffee table, his silly cowboy hat from the evening deposited on top of it to hide the contents. Not that he was going to eat anymore, he couldn’t stomach even the thought of anything else when all he could think about was how much he desperately wanted to shed his skin at that moment. Breathing shallows when he settles on the couch again, one of his hands pressing onto the left side of his chest and willing his heart to slow down, for his brain to silence itself.
The skin of his palm meets the scruff of his beard, scratching against the roughened, worked skin. Grays in his hair, salt and pepper beard, wrinkles on his forehead and at the side of his eyes, softened tummy from years of love and care, from an easy life with you.
He certainly isn’t the same Joel that you met all that time ago, that you fell in love with. Have you noticed the changes as much as he has?
He swears you haven’t aged a day; all the more beautiful with each passing day.
Light steps carry you back downstairs, the sound shaking Joel out of his thoughts as you swing around from the staircase and through the entrance to the living room. Joel relaxes on the couch, the same spot he was occupying before, only sinking further into the cushion, shifting to pull the fabric of his shirt away from his stomach. Glancing up at you, away from whatever was playing on the TV that did nothing to distract him from himself, he sends you a tight smile, stretching an arm over the back of the couch to welcome you in.
Accepting it, you sit next to him, curling up into his side with your legs under you, leaning against his frame with your comforting weight. Your hand rests on his chest, your head on his shoulder while you both watch the TV movie playing. Silence falls between the two of you, minutes passing by with only the noise from the speakers, the volume turned low so as not to disturb the kids upstairs.
Joel feels your hand move against his chest, curling up to leave your pointer finger extended, the pad of it skimming against his flannel. He ignores the feeling, figuring it’s you fidgeting as you do while you focus. The same thing as twirling your hair while you’re reading, tapping your foot as you cook.
But when your hand stairs to wander, his eyes flick down to watch its path, your gaze still facing forward and quiet. With your thumb and index finger, you work open the first button on his shirt, trailing down with the rest undone in your route. Slipping under the material, your cold hand presses against his chest, nails scraping against the skin there. With a sigh at the contact, Joel finally uses his hand to gently caress your chin, turning you to face him.
Low and rasping, he questions, “What are you doin’ exactly, darlin’?”
Innocently, you shrug, bottom lip bit down on while your touch moves lower again, skimming across his stomach and reaching the waistband of his jeans, “Well, I still have to face the consequences from stealin’ your hat, cowboy.”
Fingers dip below his belt line, toying with the elastic band of his boxers. Slipping away, he almost protests at the loss, biting his tongue when you move next to him, sitting up on your knees while both hands reach for the button and zipper of his jeans. When his button pops from its secure place, he warns with a breathy exhale, “Baby…”
“Mhm, yes, honey?” you reply, words trailing up at the end, feigning naivety. Through your lashes, you send him a pout, tongue poking out to dampen your plush lips that he stares at, his mouth parted with heavy breaths. His blood is rushing from his head, leaving him feeling light, as it all pumps to his cock, your delicate and teasing touches getting him half-hard.
Before you can tug down his zipper, you pause, taking your hands off of him; he holds back a whimper, the sound dying as a low hum in his throat.
“Don’t worry, baby, m’not done yet. Let’s go to our room, yeah?” Your voice is soothingly saccharine, an eager nod being his only response. 
Shutting off the TV, you stand from the sofa and take his hand, snatching the cowboy hat from the coffee table before pulling him to stand and follow you across the main floor, down the hallway into your first-floor bedroom. Joel shuts the door behind him, your nod toward the handle serving as a reminder for him to flick the lock.
 “Y’know, honey, you’re always showing me how you feel about me. I think it’s time we had a night that’s all about you…” He’s holding in a breath as you stalk closer to him, shaking his head as the back of his neck heats up.
“No, baby, you don’t—I don’t…” he stutters before trailing off, ashamed that he can’t think of any other excuse than the truth of why he does not want the attention on him tonight.
“You don’t…?” Running your hands across the expanse of his chest, he drops his shoulders in, curling around to make himself smaller, one foot stepping back but he doesn’t move from under your touch.
Shaking his head, he avoids your eyes, faintly confiding, “I don’t feel like I deserve it. I jus’, I’d rather give to you, baby.”
“Oh, Joel…you deserve it and more, honey. Why wouldn’t you?” Your fingers graze up, skating across his skin and carding into the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I’m not…not the same. I don’t look like who you fell in love with. Everything’s changing, catching up to me. Got gray hair and white in my beard and wrinkles and a beer belly startin’ and my back hurts all the time. M’not who I used to be but you—”
“Have changed, too. It’s not just you, Joel. Everything’s a little softer now, I’ve got wrinkles too. Found like four gray hairs yesterday and had a mild panic attack before I got into the shower. M’curvier and—”
“And you’re fucking beautiful, baby. You’re as beautiful, if not more beautiful than the day I met you.” He’s quick to defend your negative self-talk, his hands running delicately along the curves of your sides and around your lower back. Enveloping you in his arms, he presses your foreheads together, nose notched next to yours.
“That’s exactly how I feel about you, Joel. Don’t listen to us teasin’ you, especially me, ‘cause I wouldn’t change a thing about you…” As you tilt your head back, your nose grazes against his cheek, feeling a rush of heat from your breath as your lips hover over his, deliciously close to a kiss, “Can I show you what I think about you, honey?”
Joel nods, wordlessly waiting in anticipation; in the next breath, your lips crash into his, drinking him down deep while the hand at the back of his head tangles further into his hair and tugs. He moans, parted lips allowing you to lick into his mouth, whining at the taste of him before you push the flannel material from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as you continue to dominate the kiss.
Pressing your hands against his strong chest, you push him back with a step. Joel follows your lead, carefully moving backward, your tongue melding with his. All he can focus on is the taste of you — sweet, fruity, with the tang of citric acid from all the sour candies you stole from the bowl, the softest hint of chocolate as an aftertaste from his indulgences. The flavors of you coat his mouth, the scent of your perfume and shampoo mixing in his nose, and the feeling of your soft skin in his rough palms when he hikes up the skirt of your dress, grabbing a handful of your ass; it all stirs together, creating an intoxicating cocktail of you that he can seem to taste enough of. Joel’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and he’s being pulled away from your mouth with a pop when you ease him to sit down. Curiosity flashes in his mind, the sight of you over him with kiss-swollen lips growing the bulge in his undone jeans. Eager hands find your hips, grazing over to your ass as he looks up at you standing over him.
“Whatcha wanna do, beautiful?” His voice is lecherous as it comes out in a rasp, dripping with desire and a bit of wonder over what exactly you’re going to do with your night in control.
You shake your head at him, standing up straight and reaching for his hands, placing them at the hem of your dress, “Go ahead, baby. Take off as much as you want.”
His choice is obvious, tugging the fabric over your head with your help, a hand around your back yanking you to stand close, between his spread legs, while his fingers work open the clasp of your bra. Sitting back on his hands, he observes greedily as you let the straps fall down your arms, dropping the bra entirely onto the floor.
“These too?” Your thumbs hook into the waistline of your panties, doe-eyed and biting down on your body lip teasingly. Cotton-mouthed, Joel nods slowly, lips parted with shaking breath as you strip completely, sinking to your knees in front of him before he can reach out for a handful of your curves.
He lets you work his jeans down to his thighs, his boxers following in their wake, his cock springing free against his bare stomach. You keep eye contact as you kneel in front of him, his keen stare unblinking as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, the need to see every single one of your movements outweighing the drying of his eyes with his slow, infrequent blinking. Scooting to settle comfortably on your knees, you stand up straighter, gaining enough height to bend your head over his lap, lips meeting his soft tummy and hands gripping onto his thighs. Delicate kisses and ghosting touches on his skin raise goosebumps, a warm shudder trickling down his back at your tenderness.
“So handsome…” you whisper, grazing your teeth into the flesh of his torso, biting down to nip. “Y’know I think about doin’ this all the time, baby. Every time you take off your shirt, jus’ wanna sink my teeth into you.”
His cheeks heat with sincere attention, muscles in his abdomen flexing when you litter lovebites and heated, open-mouth kisses all over him, the gentle touches and desire to relax his anxieties slowly. The focus on your mouth drops to his thighs, turning your head to the side when you sit back on your haunches, licking a stripe up toward his aching cock, a quivering exhale from his mouth drawing your eyes to his face. A satisfied smile stretches across your face, kissing his inner thigh before mirroring the actions on the opposite side. His fingers curl into the duvet, gripping hard as your lips wander closer to where his stiff cock drips needily, throbbing for any kind of reprieve.
“You’re so pretty, baby. So strong, solid.” The sweet nothings tickle at the back of his neck, words that he’s sure you’ve spoken before, but at this moment, they raise his body temperature and lighten his head, the only thoughts being how much he needs you.
Standing on your knees again, you bend your neck over Joel’s lap, eyes flickering up to his face to look at him through your lashes. Your lips part, spit dribbling from your mouth and onto his waiting cock, the sensation making him hiss with urgency. One of your hands wraps around him and strokes slowly. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, mouth opening in a small gasp at the languid stimulation. One swipe of your thumb across his tip drags the beads of pre-cum from where they’re leaking, melting them into the mix of your saliva that lubricates your motions.
Searing needles pierce into his skin when you finally give in and press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the soft skin of his swollen length. Your thumb brushes against his tip again, another hiss of pleasure escaping from between his teeth. One of Joel’s hands finds the back of your head, tangling fingers into your hair. He doesn’t move to guide you, simply wanting to touch a part of you to ground himself.
Your free hand gently cups his balls as you press a featherlight kiss to the tip of his hard cock. A kitten-lick swipes up the fresh dribbles of pre-cum that have collected and Joel’s fingers tense against your strands. Humming satisfied with the reactions you’re drawing from him, he looks down at you meeting his gaze, feeling the splotches of redness growing across his cheeks and neck at the frustration of your light teasing. He groans out your name as your mouth works to tease him more, not having taken him fully in.
“Fucking hell, baby, quit teasin’, please.” Joel rasps as he watches your methodical seduction. He applies the smallest pressure against the back of your head when your lips finally wrap around just the tip of him, a moan of relief rolling from his chest.
Your eyes stay glued on his face, and he’s lost in the delicious warmth of your mouth, unabashed in every response that he’s having to your mouth working him. Starting a slow bob up and down, he moans at the weight of him on your tongue, saliva coating the underside of his cock as he feels you curl the muscle against every vein. With half of him with your mouth, your hand working what isn’t initially fitting inside. His noises grow louder and in quicker succession, hyperaware that his cheeks are likely visibly warm and eyes dark with a craving when he looks down at you again.
“Such a sweet girl. Look so pretty with my cock in your little mouth. Think you can take more, baby? Think I can fit in your throat?” You shift in your position slightly, thighs rubbing together and a chuckle rolls from his lips, smug in the need he’s drawing from you simply from enjoying his pleasure. A sigh exhales around him in your mouth as your thighs rub together to relieve some of your aches.
The rhythm of your head brings his cock deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. You swallow around him and it squeezes him just right, a loud moan rumbling from his chest, the reverberations sending aftershocks to the tips of his ears. At that point, he gets lost in the high feeling, his composure leaving him when his large hand at the back of your head pushes you down onto his cock, taking him down your throat further and causing you to gag. Tears spill from your eyes and spit drips from the sides of your mouth, the blow job quickly turning sloppy as Joel takes more control.
“Fucking hell, darlin’. Taking me so well on your own, being such a good girl for me,” he whines, heading tilting back as his eyes squeeze shut, shallow thrusts meeting the rhythm of your head. “Gonna fuckin’ come, baby, holy fuck, I—”
A moan around him gurgles to nothing when he thrusts again, hand tangled in your hair pulling you back until his tip rests against your lips, “Don’t wanna—please—” His words are lost on the tip of his tongue, pleasure hazing his mind as he searches for the plea he wants to make with you.
You giggle from your knees, swiping your fingers to wipe away the drool from the corners of your mouth, a satisfied smirk on your face. Bracing yourself on his thighs, you push yourself up, standing in between his legs while your hands find his shoulders, scraping your fingernails against the curve of them.
“You wanna come inside of me? Not my mouth? Is that what you were trying to say, baby?”
“Yes,” he exhales, relieved to find the word he needed, blinking open his eyes to look up at you. Your thumb skates across his bottom lip, holding onto his jaw as you study his features.
“I’ll give you whatever you want, Joel. Anything for my perfect, doting husband. D’you know how fucking good it makes me feel to make you feel good?” you question curiously, tilting his head as he lets you mold him whichever way you want. “Tell me how you deserve to have me like this. ‘Cause you’re so fucking good to me, tell me that you’re gonna let me fuck you, let me take your come inside of me.”
“Baby, I don’t think that—” he starts, palms pressing into the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you.
“Tell me, Joel. You said you wanted to be the one giving to me tonight. That’s what I want.” You use his earlier, shy request against his negative thoughts, and the intensity in your eyes bends him to your will.
“M’gonna let you have my cock, gonna let you fuck me and show me how much you love when I take care of you.” The words roll foreignly on his tongue, unconvincing coming from his mind to his mouth. You bend a knee, bringing it up to rest next to his thigh, nodding along to encourage him to continue, “I give you whatever I can give to you, and always gonna, baby. Now’s your turn to take care of me, right?”
“That’s right, honey. I should show you how much I appreciate you more often…you work so hard, give us exactly what we need, and provide for us. My big, strong man. You do so much for me, baby. Gonna show you how thankful I am for you, how grateful I am that you’re lettin’ me have this cock,” your words breathe hot against his ear, your other leg now straddling him on the bed, cunt hovering over his waiting cock. A hand leaves his shoulders, reaching between your stomachs to wrap around him, guiding him to your entrance. His breath catches in his throat when you ease down onto him, pushing through the wet seal of your slit.
Wet heat envelopes him, taking in a few inches of him; Joel groans under you, head falling forward onto your breasts, forehead pressed into your sticky skin. One hand tangles into his curls, dragging his head back to look into your eyes. Your hips start to move, adjusted to his size easily and taking more of his cock, letting it split you open inch-by-inch. His eyes wildly search yours, seeing the pleasure overtake your mind, lips parting to match his as you both breathe out shallow, hot breaths.
“Fuck, Joel, so fucking big…” you whine for the first time tonight and the sound goes straight to his cock, twitching him inside of you as his hips jerk up, giving you another inch. Lust clouds his mind, nodding confidently as you take him, desperate to feel your tight, dripping cunt around him entirely.
“I know, baby, I know. Should’ve let me get you ready. But I bet you like the stretch, like a lil’ bit of pain, huh?” he coos, arm snaking around you to hold you closer, your eyes fluttering closed above him as you nod languidly.
“Fuckin’ love it, makes it feel even better,” you whimper when his arm tugs you down further, only an inch or two away from him being fully sheathed.
“C’mon, be my good girl, baby. Show me how you sit on my cock.” He leans forward, bending you backward with his force and holding you tight, his lips attaching to the soft, velvety skin of your breasts and biting, “Gotta face your punishment for stealin’ my hat. Take a cowboy’s hat, gotta ride the cowboy, babygirl. I don’t make the rules.”
You giggle, eyes clearing as you’re pulled out of your cloud of pleasure, gripping onto his shoulders and holding eye contact as you finally sink completely down, burying Joel’s cock inside your soaked pussy. Moans echo in the room, bitten down before they get too loud, your hips immediately finding a quick, sloppy pace to chase your highs. The slick glide of your walls grip his cock lusciously, your flooding arousal coating his balls as thighs as you ride him. Little noises slip from your mouth, simmering the coals burning in the base of his gut as he feels the familiar bliss building.
“Is this what I’m supposed to be doin’, cowboy?” you wonder, hips continuing their pace and mouth twisting as you hide a smile. Joel is unashamed, a wide grin on his face as he unravels one arm from you, picking up the hat from the corner post of the bed, and setting it loosely on top of your head. Giggles erupt from the both of you, your pace faltering as the muscles in his stomach cramp from use. 
Recovering from the interlude, your thighs rub against the outside of his as you bounce, nails digging into his shoulders as your rhythm picks back up, the slap of skin against skin the only noise save for your airy breaths that get shallower and shallower. Flames have ignited in his gut, licking inside and burning hotter and hotter the closer he gets. Nearly at the edge, he needs more, body taking over and lifting you with him as he stands, holding you up on his cock as he thrusts hard and quick into you, dripping for him and gripping him tight to keep yourself up while he fucks into you.
“Oh—fuck, Joel! Right there, m’gonna—oh!” Your desperate pleas in his ear pitch up as you moan, cunt tightening with a flutter around him as you come, soaking his dick as he continues his hard pace, selfishly chasing his high. 
A growl rolls from his chest when you come, his fingernails biting into the flesh of your ass, the slap of his balls against your skin as they draw up. His eyes squeeze shut as he moans your name, the first rope of his come released into your cunt, smaller whimpers following in its wake as he fucks one, twice more, filling you up as deep as he can.
Limbs feeling heavy, he turns you both around, pulling you off of him and dropping you gently onto the mattress. He flops down next to you onto his stomach, blissfully out of it as you move to straddle his back, fingers working the knots and soothing the aches growing there after a long week of work, and a night spent corralling your kids.
The warm press of your body against his back makes him hum contently, your breasts at his shoulder blades as you lay on him, one of his hands reaching the rub his fingers softly against the outside of your thigh.
“You know I think you’re the most handsome, right, honey?” you ask with a hint of worry in your voice, barely above a whisper. He nods, rolling over to his back underneath you and meeting your eyes, brow furrowed with concern.
“I know, baby. Jus’ was feeling weird this whole week. You made it a lot better, though.” A knuckle nudges your cheek, and you take the hat off, Joel chuckling again as you throw it off to the side of the bed. Laying down on him again, he strokes your hair while you hug yourself to his torso, both your eyes and his fluttering shut with exhaustion, from tonight and life in general.
Before drifting off, Joel speaks up, cheekily asking, “So…can I wear this costume next year, too?”
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841 notes · View notes
mamaestapa · 5 months
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J. Burrow Masterlist
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• welcome to the jungle
• daddy issues
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• sick day
• welcome home
•all for the gram
• our little peanut
• jealousy, jealousy
• “we’re her favorite uncles”
• sweet as sugar (SMUT)
• bedtime stories
• closer (SMUT)
• lover
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• media day
• mans best friend
• my girl
• passenger princess
• wrong number
• winter wonderland
• the best vacation yet
• take your son to work day
• forever and always
• rough night
• if i seem shy, it’s cause you seem so shiesty
• pauses, then says, you’re my best friend
• all grown up
• the best news ever
• missing the baby bliss
• we didn’t think you’d be back
• daddy daughter day
• joe’s good luck charms
• fourth times a charm
• happy turkey day
• baby’s first thanksgiving
• baked with love
• have yourself a merry little christmas
• frosting looks better on you
1K notes · View notes
jomarch-wannabe · 10 months
Text
Good girl (Priest!Tommy x Fem!Reader)
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Pairing: Priest Tommy Shelby x Female Reader
Synopsis: Reader confesses her sins, admitting her fantasies about men
Warnings: Smut 🔞(dubcon, implied age gap (reader is over 18), coercion, degradation, swearing, size kink, corruption, oral (m receiving), daddy kink, choking, virginity loss, p in v sex, rough sex, no plot honestly, just porn)
Author's note: Tommy being a priest is an amusing concept considering how far he is from holy, so I wanted to experiment with this idea
——————————————————————————
You cleared your throat, shuffling on the edge of the wooden bench as the masculine voice behind the screen asked once more, “What sins have you committed?”
You took in a heavy breath, searching for the courage to speak. The silence of the booth amplified the thumping of your heart, pounding in your ears.
“I- I’m not a good girl.” Your face burned at the confession. “I only pretend to be.”
“Not a good girl, eh?” He asked curiously, urging you on.
“No.” You stated shortly with a shame in your voice, subconsciously fidgeting your fingers.
“How's that?”
You swallowed thickly, knowing his question was more of a command than an option to answer.
“I.. have impure thoughts.” You admitted, peeling the skin of your fingers as the pressure began to sink in. “Fantasies.. about men.”
“Fantasies?”
“You know, sexual fantasies. I’ve never done anything with a man. I suppose it- it keeps me sane.”
Your eyes watered as heat rose to your cheeks, no doubt a result of the embarrassment creeping up your skin.
“Describe to me your fantasies.” He urged with a low intrigued voice, scarcely hiding his thick Birmingham accent.
Your heart was pounding at the proposition, shaking your small voice, “Um, well I-I imagine an older man, much older, using me.” You took in a breath, eyes flicking in the darkness as you imagined the scenario. “Dominating me.” Your stomach sank with guilt but your body betrayed you, unconsciously squeezing your thighs together.
He hummed in acknowledgment, doing little for your nerves with such an objective response.
“I want a man to fuck me-“ a lump rose in your throat as you imagined the scene playing in your head. Your fingers pulled at the pendant around your neck, searching for air, “Hard.”
A heavy exhale left your lips as you finished, awaiting his response with a dizzying pounding in your head. Through the other side of the booth you could faintly make out a groan.
“Is that all?” You asked, searching the darkness with curious eyes, growing uncomfortable with the silence as you chewed the inside of your lip.
As your eyes shifted in the dark enclosure the curtain in front of you slid open. The metal rings scraped against the pole harshly, causing you to flinch.
A wide and muscular frame came into view, shifting on both feet. As your eyes followed up the man’s torso, a pair of turquoise eyes met yours, staring intensely through his brows.
“Would you like to make that a reality?” He asked with a voice dripping in lust, evidently turned on by the growing tent in his black trousers.
“I-“ you swallowed, shrinking into the wooden bench. “What?” Your head spun with confusion and fear as you replayed his offer.
His lips parted as he began to speak, curling slightly on the end into an amused smirk, “Want to be fucked by an older man?”
The deep baritone of his voice made your cheeks burn. He could sense your neediness. Knew what made you tick. As he inched towards you, you felt increasingly weak under his dominant gaze.
“I- I don’t know how.” You stuttered, heart pounding as your eyes blinked nervously.
“Don’t worry love, I’ll teach ya.” He whispered in a reassuring tone, extending a finger out to trace the side of your cheek.
The contact sent chills down your skin as he explored his finger down, stopping at your chin. The push of his digit tilted your head up with ease, having you completely at his mercy.
With parted lips you watched him, awaiting his next move with fear and intrigue. Heavy footsteps dragged against the floor as he closed the space between you, darkening the already dim space with his wide frame. The proximity wafted his scent towards you, cool, with a musk of cigarettes and whiskey. You enjoyed breathing him in, foreign to the smell of a man.
Your neck craned at his height, submitting to the wanting in his eyes; the desire behind his turquoise orbs.
“How about I fuck that dirty mouth of yours? Hmm?” He hummed in a low, gravely tone, chewing his lip at the thought of taking your innocence.
Your core throbbed with heat as his offer. Imagining him using you. Knowing that even if you wanted to run there was no escape now. You were his.
“Would you like that whore?” He leered, poking the inside of his cheek as he scanned your squirming thighs.
You nodded weakly in his touch, overtaken by lust and anticipation. There was something in the roughness of his voice, an assertiveness that commanded every limb in your body to obey.
“Alright,” he turned his head back, scanning the vacant cathedral. “I’ll show you how it’s done yea?”
With the coast clear he wasted no time lifting his hands from your face, eagerly working his zipper down. The tendons in his fingers twitched with his movements. His hands were large and firm, the thought of them touching you made your stomach sink.
The fabric of his trousers fell softly to the floor with his guidance, followed by his white cotton boxers.
Your eyelids fluttered as you took in a breath, studying his manhood, swollen in need inches from your face. He was thick and long, bigger than you imagined.
The sight of you beneath him made him throb. Your wide, innocent eyes boring into his. The softness of your thighs under your twitching fingers. The cross pendant clutching to your heaving chest. How he wanted his hands around your throat, to see you whimper and cry. To corrupt you. To use you. He couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of fisting his cock a few times, taking you in as he ejected small pearls of precum from his tip.
“Alright,” He groaned in anticipation, backing you into the wall as he inched forward. “Be a good girl and open your mouth for me yea?”
You hesitated for a moment, taking in short breaths as his length stood before of you, before temptation took over, parting your lips slowly, giving him access to your wet entrance.
The rough pads of his fingertips raised goosebumps on the back of your neck as his fisted a hand through your hair. The sensation made you involuntarily whimper.
His self control vanished at your noises, and without hesitation pushed himself into your mouth, the force causing you to gag. He was heavy on your tongue, making you salivate quickly as your lips adjusted around him.
“Christ.” He cursed in pleasure, throwing his head back as your fingers squeezed his muscular thighs.
Instinctively you pulled back, but he had no remorse and tugged at your strands, holding you still for him.
“Don’t fight it love,” he breathed, mouth falling open in pleasure. “You feel so fucking good.” He moaned deeply as he began a steady rhythm, evoking wet gags from your throat.
Your eyes watered as he repeatedly nudged the back of your throat, causing you to moan around his length.
“Good girl- ah- good fucking girl.” He cursed with knit brows, pumping himself in and out of your squelching mouth.
A trail of saliva pooled down your chin at the intrusion, dripping on your chest.
“Fuck I’m close.” He grunted, grabbing hold of your head to pull you closer.
Your nose involuntarily nudged against his trimmed pubic hair as he fucked your face, chasing his release. Your eyes rolled upwards to the contortion in his face, his plump pink sex lips parted and groaning, to the flush in his cheeks. The sight made your thighs clench.
He treated you like an object to be used, paying no mind to your noises as he rapidly bucked his hips, pushing your head back against the wall.
“Fucking hell..” he groaned loudly as he came undone. The thick muscles of his thighs shook under your hands as he climaxed, unloaded ropes of cum into your mouth.
Your eyes squeezed shut as the foreign substance hit your tongue.
“Shit.” He rode out his high with shallow rocking, mouthing incoherent words.
Once satisfied he pulled out, leaving you gasping for air with a string of cum between your parted lips.
The sight alone could make him come again.
With wide watchful eyes you followed his finger as it traced the corner of your mouth, gathering his ejaculation with his thumb. As you caught your breath your lips parted open, granting him the opportunity to push it inside, smearing his cum over your tongue. You moaned at the intrusion, submitting to him with wide eyes as you wrapped your lips around his thumb.
After licking it clean you opened your mouth, freeing his digit with a pop.
“Want me to fuck that cunt of yours next?” He suggested with a cocky smirk, chest rising as he scanned your squirming legs.
“Please.” You begged with a whine, squirming in search of friction.
He took your neediness as an opportunity and grasped your shoulders, easily maneuvering you to the ground. Your breath fanned the cool floor as it made contact with your skin. Impatiently, your head turned back to watch him, but his firm hand intercepted your plans, pinning you down by your upper back.
Your eyes darted in anticipation as his hands raked up your thighs, sending chills down your spine.
“Please..” A desperate moan left your lips, you were throbbing at the thought of him using you, having his weight on top of you.
His hands explored underneath your skirt, hooking a finger in your panties and eagerly shuffling them down your skin. The cool air swept over you at the bareness, exposing your glistening folds.
“Christ.” He swallowed as he thumbed your folds with thick fingers, lustfully exploring your untouched body. “So fucking wet for me love.”
Your eyes rolled back at the contact, reveling in the sensation of fingers that weren’t your own.
“Please fuck me..” you whined against the floor, grinding your hips against his hands as your patience ran out.
Your noises were enough to send him over the edge; with a shaky exhale he lined himself up, pushing into your entrance in one firm thrust.
“Oh fuck!” You squeaked with squinted eyes, digging your nails into the floor as he stretched your clenching walls.
He grunted behind you as you sucked him in, stimulating his already swollen head.
“You’re so big- ah” Your eyes squinted shut at his girth, burning at the unfamiliar pressure.
“It’ll feel good love, be patient.” He spoke against your ear as he leaned down, pressing his chest into your back. The new position made your eyes roll back, stimulating your clit against the floor with his weight. His hand slid on the back of your neck for leverage, squeezing his rough fingers around your pulsing veins. The pressure made you whimper.
He began an eager rhythm, flexing his core against the skin of your back, fanning your ear with heavy breaths. His deep, erotic moans sent shivers down your skin, knowing you were causing them.
“Fuck..” He groaned loudly, lips falling open in pleasure as he rutted in and out of you, coating himself in your arousal.
His force was intense, creating waves of intense pleasure building in your core. Every thrust was powerful and skilled, making your toes curl.
You let out a muffled moan, stifled by the pressure of his hand around your neck.
The vacant cathedral echoed with the sound of his skin slapping against yours, pulling wet squelching noises as your arousal spilled out of you, claiming you.
“Gonna come love..” he panted, sloppily bucking his hips against your ass.
“Please come.. come inside of me..” you whimpered, feeling your walls contract with pleasure as you neared your own climax.
Your desperate noise sent him over the edge. With a loud groan he released inside of you, tightening his hold of your neck as waves of pleasure washed over him.
The feeling of his warm arousal inside of you triggered your own release. Reaching your climax, your body tensed up underneath him, overwhelmed as waves of intense euphoria crashed over you, rendering you speechless, moaning incoherent words.
“Christ.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth, overstimulated by your spasming walls.
“Oh my god..” you moaned, holding onto the feeling with squeezing thighs.
As your breathing leveled he pulled out of you with a slick wet noise, holding himself up with a hand on your lower back. You subconsciously squeezed at the feeling of emptiness, pushing his seed down your folds.
“Holy shit,” he gasped at the sight, admiring you with lust blown pupils. His hold on your neck loosened, granting you air as he grasped your waist, turning you on your back to face him.
Your heart pounded in intimidation as he towered above you, core flexing with his breath. He admired you with dark eyes, glinting with a predatory satisfaction.
The space closed between you as he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours. He took in a breath as he captured your mouth in his, tasting himself on your swollen lips.
You moaned against him, lifting a hand to explore his chiseled jaw shifting against your fingers.
Your chest rose as you submitted to him, colliding your tongue against his, so close you were breathing the same air.
His mouth shifted around yours, releasing your tongue and peppering small kisses against your lips.
Once satisfied he pulled back, licking his lips before whispering, “Better tell me about your fantasies more eh?”
“Mhmm..” you nodded with wide doe eyes, pulling your bottom lip into your teeth.
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The Littlest of Good Girls x E.O *
Step!Mum!Elizabeth x Step!Daughter!Reader
A secret affair with your step-mum was the best decision for you, she treats you so well and vice versa, but you just can't get over your jealously when your dad gets all touchy with what is yours at a business party. Mommy just has to repeatedly teach her girl how much she cares for her.
Warnings: Mommy!kink, mommy!elizabeth, step-cest, jealously, soft sex, soft Lizzie, fingering (R), aftercare, slight insecurities, unwanted flirting (only brief), grief.
Day 14 of my Kinktober Masterlist
Word Count: 2.8k
A/n: I'm very aware of how late this was, don't comment on it.
Kinktober Masterlist
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You stand bored beside your father and step-mother, your father mingling with his coworkers as you are stuck beside your step-mom the whole night, you whine once again as Lizzie readjusts your tie for you.
"Lizzz, I don't need help, it's fine."
All she does is raise an eyebrow as she tightens your tie impossibly tight, tugging on it soon after, you let out a small gasp as you stare at her eyes, which have turned into slits as she grasps your tie tightly. You refrain from moaning as you watch her fingers and her hands flex enough to show her veins, her jaw working as well as it sharpens,
"Be quiet, darling, don't be a brat and maybe I'll reward my good girl later."
You shiver at the tone in her voice, but all too soon she steps back, leaving you cold as you watch with anger in your eyes as your father steps behind her, his arm wrapping around her waist, as you bite your tongue as to not say something you'll surely regret.
Jealously flows through your blood as you watch him lean down to leave a small kiss on Lizzie's forehead, his eyes watching you as he begins to speak,
"I hope you don't mind, honey, but I need to borrow Elizabeth for a while, how about you go talk to Sharon at the bar, I heard she has a little crush on you."
You huff as you roll your eyes, you don't miss the way that Lizzie's hands tighten around your father's bicep, her eyes glaring at him slightly at the notion of what's hers potentially conversing with the slut she knows that has been trying to get your attention since day one.
She looks up at your father with a tight smile as she laughs,
"Robbie, dear, don't you think Y/n here is too young to be dating?"
You roll your eyes and ignore the pointed look that Elizabeth sends your way in warning, you nod your head at your father as you begin to turn around, making your way through the crowd of people you try to ignore the burning gaze on your back as you try to promise yourself to have fun tonight.
Even if that does mean breaking one of Elizabeth's rules, and drinking.
I flag down one of the bartenders, ordering my usual I don't make any reaction as I feel fingers sensually wrap around my bicep, their nails digging into my suit slightly as they drag the tip of their finger up and down slowly.
Once achieving my drink I look to my side, my eyes making contact with that of Sharon's darkened blue eyes, I watch with slight boredom as she licks her lips slowly, her dress cut short as she leans forward purposely so that I can see past the low cut of her dress and to her breasts, a blush spreads on my cheeks as I look away respectfully, as she speaks, she speaks in a sultry tone, her tone suggestive as she looks up at me through thick fake eyelashes,
"So, I was hoping you'd come to this."
You hum as you take a sip of your drink, your eyes trained on the way your step-mother hangs around your father, jealously eating away at you as you watch her laugh at his stupid jokes the way she's supposed to at yours.
A sour taste builds in your mouth as you barely listen to what Sharon is talking about, your lips moving at a sail's pace as you watch the way Lizzie's beautiful dirty blonde hair falls over her shoulders, her eyes not holding the same sparkle in them as she looks at your father.
You down the rest of your drink as tears begin to form in your eyes, frustrated at your wayward emotions you pay the bartender, not staying back long enough to wait for change or to listen to the rest of Sharon's nonsensical ramblings.
Instead you shove past her and ignoring Lizzie's pointed looks you begin to tread up the stairs, before you're stopped at the sound of a knife clinking against glass, stopping you look down and at your father as he wears a shit eating grin, pride shining within his brown eyes as he begins to speak with warmth guiding his words,
"I would like to make a toast to my one and only daughter for finishing her doctor's degree, I couldn't be prouder of where she's gotten to, let her be a role model for all of us. To Y/n!"
You watch as everyone raises their glasses, their voices loud as they all scream in union, 'Y/n!'.
You try to smile as the emotions overwhelm you, your eyes flitting towards green ones as you watch her eyes shine with even more pride for you, a broken gasp leaves your throat as you turn around, running up the stairs you sprint towards your room (your mother's old bedroom), tears falling down heated cheeks as you slam the door behind you.
Falling down onto your bed, you squeeze your eyes shut as the pain is let go, your heart squeezing painfully as you cry into your pillow.
You cry for what feels like forever, your voice hoarse as your red and puffy eyes look up and into the eyes of your mother's through the picture.
You shakily bring a hand up to glide your fingers over her face, your eyes staring back at familiar ones as you wish for her to be with you.
Your hand snaps back and away as you hear a knock at your door, you wipe away at your tears, your nose sniffling as you get ready, your head snaps up at the familiar sound of Lizzie through the heavy door, her voice hesitant and soft as she speaks through the wood,
"Sweetheart, can I come in?"
"Y-Yeah."
You curse yourself for breaking near the end, but you don't have enough time to react when Lizzie quickly walks in, her fingers closing the door behind her as she looks at you, her lips turning down into a frown as she walks slowly towards you, stopping in front of you, you don't hesitate when you let your forehead rest on her toned stomach, her fingers combing through your hair as you wrap your arms around her waist,
"Aw, darling, it's okay, I'm sorry Robbie had to do that, I know how you get with social occasions."
You shake your head as you tighten your arms around her waist, your voice broken as you begin to speak into the soft skin of her toned stomach,
"When I was younger, my- well my mother was a huge part of my life and I looked up to her a lot, she was a hero and I knew that by watching the amount of good she did for people by being a doctor, well I knew that one day I'd want to be one as well, and be that happiness for people that my mother was. When she got cancer, it was a struggle, long visits to the hospital between just me and mum, I think I spent majority of my teenage years living in the hospital with my mum, so when she finally died and I was truly alone for the first time, I knew that I was going to make my dream come a reality, and now that- that dream has become a reality, I'm not sure how I feel about it all."
You feel as Lizzie's thumb and forefinger rest underneath your chin, her green eyes soft as she looks down at you while sighing,
"Love, your mother would be so proud of you for where you are, but just remember that you don't have to put yourself up on a pedestal, you're still just human and me and your father will support you no matter what you choose. Especially me, my beautiful little girl."
You smiled slightly as your eyes fluttered shut as Lizzie's lips pressed against your own softly as she lent down, her fingers rubbing smoothly over your cheekbones as she comforted you.
You were the one to pull back as you rested your hands over her own on your cheeks, your eyes closed shut as you bask in the simpleness of the moment with Elizabeth.
Your eyes flutter open at the sound of a resounding knock on your door, you move to get up but stop when Lizzie shakes her head down at you, you furrow your brows in confusion but follow her secret command anyway.
"Y/n, are you in there sweetheart?"
You open your mouth to speak but stop when Lizzie shakes her head down at you, her lips moving as she speaks instead,
"Hey, darling, Y/n's in here. She's just feeling a little sick is all and she won't be able to come back down for the rest of the night I believe."
You looked up at her slightly confused as she smirked down at you, before your head turns to look at the door as you hear the hesitant voice of your father through the wood of your bedroom door,
"Oh, well are you coming back to the party?"
Lizzie looks down at you again as her lips twitch upwards, as she barely mumbles out a response to your father's question, her focus intense on you as you begin to squirm beneath her gaze,
"No, I think I'm going to stay and nurse her back, she's not feeling well enough to look after herself. Don't worry about us, go back to your party."
Your eyes trail over to the door of your bedroom as you hear the padding of your father's footsteps drifting away and back down the stairs.
Looking back at Lizzie, your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you feel her stand up to her full height, her eyes dark as you feel her knees come up to press on either side of you, her thighs clenched around you as she sits on your lap, your hands coming up to hold her by the waist as you let out a gasp at the feeling of her on top of you.
"Lizzie, what-"
You purse your lips as you feel her forefinger press against your pursed lips, her eyes mischievous as she looks down at you slightly lovingly, before she speaks softly,
"Don't, love, I want to show you how proud I am of you, beautiful."
Your breathing picks up rapidly as you feel her rub her finger across your lower lip, the green in her eyes rapidly disappearing as she looks down at you lustfully,
"Would you like that, princess?"
You part your lips further to suck in her finger, your head going fuzzy as you breathe in an air of peppermint that is only Elizabeth.
You blush as you hear her tsk, her eyes drinking in the sight of you beneath her as you suck her finger in and then out again, the movement being repeated as she looks on mesmerized at what you're doing.
She snaps out of the trance that she has on you as she pulls her finger abruptly from your lips, you letting out a whine as she looks down at you seriously, the lust leaving momentarily as she speaks in a deep tone,
"Nuh uh, love, I need verbal consent, you won't be getting out of this deal."
"Please, I need you, mommy."
You watch as a smile spreads on her lips, her eyes soft as she rubs her thumb gently over your cheekbone,
"That's my good girl, thank you for asking nicely, sweetheart."
You blush but giggle excitedly as you smile up at Lizzie, your eyes attentive as you watch as she gently pushes you back against the bed sheets, her fingers soft as she travels her hands all over your body, her fingers digging in gently to your soft skin as she massages you.
Your lips part as you feel all the stress from the day melt away into nothing as your lover hovers above you with soft green eyes watching every bit of your reactions with darkness swirling in them before you feel her lean forward, her chest pressing up to your own chest as she begins to kiss you on your pink lips.
Your hand wraps around the back of her neck as you kiss her back slowly, your lips parting enough to make way for her tongue to slip into your mouth, and when it does you let out a low moan at the feeling of the appendage slipping into your warm mouth.
A small smirk spreads on Lizzie's lips as she kisses you to distract you from the feeling of her finger slowly moving down and over your abdomen and to the buttons of your suit pants.
Elizabeth pops open the buttons on your pants as she pulls it down slowly and over your legs, you blush as you look down, your lips separating from her own as you watch a string of spit keep you both somewhat connected.
Lizzie's eyes are soft as she looks down at you, you feeling self conscious as you try to cover up, but she stops you with a gentle shake of her head and a kiss on your temple,
"No, don't do that, love, I want to see all of my beautiful girlfriend."
You decide to trust her as you let your hands fall to your sides, Lizzie smiles gratefully at you as she kisses your lips before you let out a gasp at the feeling of her index finger rubbing over your slit, your hands fling forward to grip her shoulders as your lips part.
"So wet. Is this for me, beautiful?"
You open your mouth to try to speak, but your brain is empty and you can only half manage the slurring of some words, Lizzie smiles at you as she shakes her head, her fingers on her other hand coming up to press against your lips,
"Shh, I know honey, I know. You don't have to say anything."
She's slow as she rubs you over your panties before her fingers dig into either side of your hips as she pulls your panties down and over your thighs, knees and then finally over your legs where she lets them drop to the floor, not caring one bit as she presses her chest against yours before she lets one finger move inside of your tight cunt.
You let out a gasp before it slowly morphs into a moan, your eyes flutter closed as you wrap your legs around her waist, them pulling her impossibly closer as you feel her move her finger in and out and then in and out again, her thrusts slow but deep as she leans forward to whisper in your ear,
"So tight for mommy, sweetheart."
You whine at her comment, before your arm swings around her neck, your back arching up as you moan at the subtle movement of her finger, before your nails begin to dig in further to her shoulders as she moves a second finger inside of you, them spreading inside of you as she begins to curl them both with each thrust inside of you.
Your mouth opens as you feel your stomach clench in pleasure, you knowing all too well how quick you've reached the edge.
Lizzie smirks as she kisses you on your lips, before she speaks in the space between both of your lips and mouths.
"You wanna cum, don't you, love? So quickly as well, you must've been so worked up, little one."
You watch as she pouts down at you, you know she's saying it mockingly but you nod your head fervently, your eyes squeezed shut as you wait for permission to cum for her.
Lizzie leans forward and into your ear as she speaks a simple command that you listen to,
"Cum, beautiful. Cum for your mommy."
Your body goes rigid as you shake from the force of the orgasm, Lizzie hushes you a couple of times as she helps you calm down before she slowly pulls out her fingers, them being wiped carelessly onto the bed as she focuses on you.
Lizzie moves to lay beside you on the bed, her head being propped up on her open palm as she smiled at you, you turned onto your side as well as you looked up at her with drooping eyelids.
You let out a sigh as you felt her fingers move a singled stray strand of hair behind your ear, her lips pressing softly against your temple as she spoke softly as you snuggled into her chest, ready to fall asleep,
"I love you, Y/n, and that will never change, even if you're not a doctor."
You fell asleep in her arm's that night and Elizabeth knew right then that she had to have you, for the rest of both of your lives.
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