#smut is fun too

[adnauseum11]

People are...(insert your own adjective here)

I am no seasoned author, but I think it's funny that my first smut consistently gets more hits than my more recent WIP that has plenty itself and better dialogue (same characters). I think (humbly) my writing of those scenes has gotten better with practise. But my fandom is also notorious for fanboys gatekeeping so I guess I shouldn't be surprised with the lack of engagement I receive when asking for feedback etc. Still...go for the newer, hotter scenes my guy. Or chime in and say why it's not as good. The consuming without comment is starting to bother me, which is great cause I've hit writer's block so that all squares up nicely.

If you give a shit and want to check out what I'm blathering about - the link is below. Happy for any writer's block tips too. FYI: AO3 account needed for the first two instalments . Only the current WIP is accessible to guests.

#see ya never #women writers #smut is fun too #writer's block #I would like to read the next part without having to write it myself #hello hello #is this thing on?

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. i

purely just some fun and games putting big grumpy joel miller slap bang in the middle of a romcom. i hope you guys enjoy. dedicated to big sis @mrsmando, who is the light of my life, let herself be completely swept away by this idea into unhinged, whimsical mania with me, and who inspired so many lil details for this story. love u, zhort x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you strike up a deal to attend a wedding with your neighbor as his date. what could go wrong?

warnings: age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), grumpy!joel initially finds reader mildly infuriating, cursing, alcohol consumption, discussion of a car accident (non-graphic) & dead parents, softdom!joel as per, fingering, handjob, comeplay, spitting, drunk unprotected one night stand, creampie, praise kink, one mention of nausea (but nothing happens, my little emetophobic angels), someone falls pregnant and it's not joel miller i'll tell you that much. honk if you love cats!!!

word count: 9.8k 

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s just gone seven on a Saturday night when his knuckles rap on your door.

The sun casts tall, angled shapes on your living room wall. Lights the pages before you in a glow of tangerine. Refracts through the glass tumbler on your coffee table and bleeds the amber liquid onto the pale wood surface. Everything lit in some variation of gold, everything bowing its head quietly as the day begins to turn its back.

The house is still. The world feels still, as though transitioning. Like you’re sat in a waiting room, leg bouncing, anticipating something you don’t know to look for yet.

Perfect, comfortable, still – until he’s on your porch. And he knocks again.

You snap your book shut and slide it across the table, nudging the heavy glass. The ice clinks, irritated.

“You mind fastenin’ your…delicates to your clothesline a little better?”

His voice shoulders its way into your hallway before you’ve even pulled the door back enough to see him. Not that you need to see him to know who it is. You’ve lived in Austin three years now and met only one person with a voice as low and toneless as Joel Miller’s. Slung in sarcasm, dripping with disdain. All that.

You cross your arms and slant against the doorframe, unable to mask your amusement. “Excuse me?”

He answers by lifting his left hand. From his pointer finger hang a tiny pair of white panties, lace pattern fluttering in the late summer breeze. You glance over his shoulder as you steal them from his grasp, balling them in your fist.

“Uhuh. They were sitting on my back lawn. I have company tonight, y’know. I can’t have women’s underwear just – lyin’ in my damn yard.”

Your head tilts. Ears prick. “Company? You hostin’ somethin’?”

His shoulders drop with a sigh. “No. I am not hostin’ anythin’.”

“Good. ‘cause I’d want an invite.”

“If I were hostin’, you’d be the last person I would invite. And you know that.”

“Ouch,” you pout, “that hurts, Miller. I watered your plants while you were off visiting your brother last month. They woulda died without me there.”

“And I am grateful to you,” Joel grumbles, “but that doesn’t mean I need those anywhere in view of my kitchen window.” He throws a pointed finger to your elbow, where your panties sit scrunched in your fist.

You look down to the froth of frill spilling between your knuckles, and back up to his dark features – his glower casting a shadow over the hazel eyes and deepening the creases between his brows. You smirk, a realization dawning.

Company – that he doesn’t want seeing a pair of someone else’s underwear.

“You have a date.”

Joel’s tongue flicks across the inside of his cheek. He glances over his shoulder and speaks through his teeth. “No, not a date,” he quietly tells the street.

“But you have a lady comin’ over. Or at least – someone you don’t want seeing these.” You unfold your arms and twirl your fist. The gentle wind lifts the lace.

He grunts. A low hmph. Agreement, you think.

“Sounds like a date.”

He hisses, “’s not a date.”

Your stare doesn’t slip from his. Not when his brows tighten, not when his jaw does, too. Not even when he sucks a breath between gritted teeth. Your smile widens.

Finally, with a sigh, he concedes. “It’s…it’s somebody Tommy ‘n Maria are tryna set me up with. Alright?”

“So – a date.”

“If you don’t –” Joel’s head flicks over to his own driveway at the same time his hand lifts, a pointed gesture you read as – shut the fuck up. “We’re just having a few drinks. Just – hangin’ out.”

“Just hangin’ out,” you repeat, eyes widening. “One-on-one. With some woman who – Wait, Tommy’s in Wyoming. How the hell do he and his wife know someone way the hell down here?”

“From before they moved. And – Maria ain’t his wife. Yet. They’re getting married next month.”

Suddenly the sun reappears over the dark horizon. The evening begins to clear up, make sense again. You lift your chin, nodding.

“Right, right. So, she gonna be your plus one, or…?”

The understanding raises his heckles again. Exasperated, he asks, “How many damn questions are you gonna –? I’m only here to – to return your –” He nods once more to the pale fabric in your hand.

A laugh shoots from your nostrils. “What’s the matter? You don’t like – whatever her name is?”

“Laura.”

“Laura,” you breathe.

“And there ain’t nothin’ wrong with her. She just – she…”

“She…?”

“She has, like, five cats, and it’s just…hair, everywhere. And at their engagement party, she spilled an entire margarita down me. Right down my –” He sweeps a hand down his front, balling his fists again once they reach the hem of his shirt.

Your lips turn, amused. “Five cats. Cat lady Laura. Well. Have fun, I guess. Thanks for these.”

He acknowledges your raised fist with a bashful glance. He’s already halfway down your front steps when he says, “Keep an eye on your laundry from now on,” and strides off back to his own place.

Joel has lived here his whole life. In Austin. You’ve no idea when he moved in next door, just that he was here when you did. You don’t know much about him at all – the fact he even filled you in enough to tell you about his date is shocking enough.

The day you first arrived, U-Haul truck squealing to a halt by the curb, he found himself unlucky enough to be stood in his front yard watering the blond patches of his grass. He saw you struggling to open the rear door of the truck, and with a grumble and a glance across the street for a more eager rescuer, he tossed his hose and came over to help.

He unclicked the heavy latch and pushed the door up with enough ease to put you to shame. And he seemed to feel some obligation when he saw the mass of belongings stuffed in the back, to help you unload them. Didn’t seem overjoyed by the thought, mind you, what with the sigh he let slip when you hopped up and held out the first box.

He indulged you for no more than one hour. Answered every question you had about the neighborhood, dodged every one about himself. He told you about the couple across the street with the newborn baby, told you about your neighbor on the other side who pretends to garden just so she can snoop on everyone else’s business. And as soon as the last box thudded down on your gleaming living room floor, he nodded, and paced back over to his own property.

He's a good guy. You know this much. He’s a dick to you most days, but he’s honest, and he’s kind when you catch him in the right light. He takes deliveries for you when you’re not home; he once drove Diane to the vets when she showed up on his doorstep in the dead of night, Fred the Jack Russell ailing in her arms.

He’s observant. Noticed just this summer the three different plumbers who showed up to your house in the space of two days, and came over as the third guy was leaving – his shining bald head low between his shoulders.

‘s the matter? Joel asked, watching the navy overalls sink into the rusted vehicle.

Kitchen sink’s leakin’. Fuckin’ – nobody can fix it.

He shouldered you out of the way with his then-trademark sigh and left twenty minutes later, your kitchen finally free of the dripdripdrip you’d been plagued with for a week straight.

He’s good. He’s a good neighbor. But, man, is he private.

You’ve never seen the inside of his place. His body blocks it anytime you’re on his doorstep. He has a brother, you know that – though, only since last month, when he asked you to keep an eye on his garden – and you know, now, that the brother is getting married.

You know that he likes country music, know he plays guitar – accidentally. You heard him one day in the spring, when he left his window open and you were lounging by your pool. When he looked out and noticed how you’d angled your sunbed to listen, really listen, he slammed it shut.

You know he’s single and childless and has been for at least the three years you’ve lived next door to him.

You know little fucking else.

The words on the curled pages seep into one another. You’re staring through the book now back in your hands, the shape of your living room blurring around you: the brick fireplace, the still, red light of the TV. The lulling sway of the sheer curtains, pushed like the tides by the air through the open window.

You cross your ankles on the coffee table. Your lips purse. Tongue dabs at the smoky-sweet singe of whiskey on the flesh of your cheeks. From here, you can see the street outside Joel’s house. If – when – Laura pulls up, you’ll know. And you’ll be here to watch. Survey. Observe.

See what kind of woman a guy like Joel Miller takes to his brother’s wedding.

It’s nine fifty-two when she eventually leaves.

She’s been in there two hours and seventeen minutes. Her car – a kind of rotten green Chevrolet with one tail light out – sits patiently out front, like even it can’t wait to help her fucking disappear.

You’re hoisting a swollen black bag down your drive when his porch light flickers on and his front door opens. The glossy plastic exhales as it slumps against the trashcan. You dust your hands. Joel hasn’t noticed you yet.

“…so nice gettin’ to properly know you,” Laura’s crooning, sidestepping as Joel walks calmly down to her car. Ushering her. You hold back a laugh.

“Thanks for comin’,” he says, his voice falling flat in the windless evening. He’s a step ahead of her, like a parent leading their child away from the park. She’s still babbling about his six-string.

“Maybe next time I can hear a little somethin’…” she says, and you know from the way he halts that Joel hears the same questioning tone you do, the way somethin’ curls up at its end.

“Maybe,” he says, curtly. His words curl down. And then nothing else, and Laura – who, now that she’s a little closer, stood on the curb by her car door, you notice has sweeping golden hair which flicks away from her plump cheeks, and bright eyes which dazzle in the dusky glow – is forced to cough up one last chance.

“I gave you my number,” she says, then, “I didn’t get yours?” and this time, it’s definitely a question.

Joel pretends to pat down his pockets. “I musta left my phone in the house.”

You can’t help it. A scoff bursts from your lips. But he still doesn’t look over.

“Well,” Laura tugs on the handle, “thank you for a lovely evenin’. I’ll hear from ya.”

Joel smiles but puts a hand on the door, like he might slam it shut for her if she tried to backtrack. But she doesn’t. She swings both legs in, pulls it closed, and the engine spurts to life.

As she pulls off, Chevrolet jolting a little, you notice the bright yellow bumper sticker plastered squint beneath the license plate. You walk silently over to Joel, grass prickly under your socks.

“Honk If You Love…Cats,” you murmur, shoulder brushing off his bicep.

He sniffs. Tightens the grip his arms have on his chest. His eyes are fixed on the one red light, slowly shrinking into the distance. “Don’t even.”

“Good date?”

“I said don’t.”

“She talk much about her cats?”

“Goodnight.”

“Did you ask their names, at least?”

He’s backing up, crossing the dark lawn towards his front steps. He looks you up and down, his lips a flat line. Your sweat shorts. Your bare legs. The tight vest top molded around your breasts. His eyes shoot back up. “No more questions. No more pesterin’ me.”

“Nothin’ about the cats? Seriously, dude?” You lift your arms, grinning after his dark figure, swaggering up the porch steps.

Joel ignores you. He disappears through his front door and the light is snuffed. You slink back up to your house, grateful for the blanket of darkness covering the skip in your step.

Eleven hours later, you’re stood in front of your bedroom mirror.

The day melts against your window. Brilliant blue sky, cradling soft puffs of snow-white clouds. Crows on Diane’s roof cawing, slowly yellowing trees rustling. The bright, hot square across your front where the sun forces her way in.

You turn, taking the loose hem of your sleepshirt in your fingers, and pull it over your body, tossing it to the foot of the bed as you examine the pattern of colors hanging from inside your closet.

You take them one by one, tug them free, slot them back in. Eventually you settle for a gray hoodie, cropped and loose. As you haul it from its hanger, there’s a whine from the wooden cabinet. A squeal. The top shelf rips from either side, dropping to the closet floor and taking the pole with it.

“What the f–? You gotta be fucking kidding me,” you growl, stepping forward to run your fingers along the splintered wood where the nails have ripped themselves free. Four black holes, jagged insides of the closet pricking your fingertips.

The crumple of clothes and hangers sulks up at you pathetically. You fall back onto your bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. The fan whirs slowly, scooping your gaze and throwing it in lazy circles.

The closet was old, anyways. Was here when you moved. It’s probably about time you had some new ones built. But fuck, that’s gonna cost. Ripping the old ones out, building them from scratch. The fan pulls your eyes back around to twelve o’clock.

Joel’s a contractor. He could do ‘em. Might give you a discounted rate, too, for all the times you move his newspaper from his front lawn to his doorstep for him. Either that, or he’d want something in return. And what handy skills do you have? You once knitted a scarf for you grandma for Christmas. Maybe not Joel’s thing. You can cook mac ‘n cheese – though one lousy meal isn’t payment enough for an entire wall of solid wood, two panes of glass and two days’ labor.

A favor, maybe. An IOU. What the fuck kinda favor does Joel Miller need–?

You’re hopping over the tiny burst of hedge between his yard and yours before the thought is finished, bending to scoop his newspaper up and slotting it under your arm. He answers just as you lift your fist to pound on his door for a second time.

You slap the rolled paper into his chest. “I have an idea.”

He squints at you in the summer light. “Wh–? Didn’t I tell you not to p–?”

“I’ll be your date.”

Joel blinks.

“I’ll be your date,” you repeat. “I got a wardrobe needs replacing. You do it, for free, and I’ll be your date.”

“Your wardrobe?”

“Crapped out on me this mornin’. I don’t want to pay for some stranger who’ll overcharge me ‘n do a half-assed job. Fix it, ‘n you don’t have to take cat lady Laura to Tommy’s wedding. And you can fix my kitchen sink, too.”

“I already fixed your kitchen sink.”

“It’s back at it. Drippin’ all through the damn night. Drip drip drip –”

“Alright.” Joel’s palm is up again. He does that a lot when he’s talking to you. “Alright. Wardrobe ‘n sink.”

“We have a deal?” you ask, extending your hand.

His chest fills with a thoughtful breath. His eyes scan you up and down, lingering somewhere a little lower than your jaw for a second. And then, the heavy weight of his palm against yours. The tightening of his fingers around your wrist. One sure shake.

Deal.

Two weeks before the wedding, you’re at Joel’s door again.

He’s in a black tee, dark sweatpants slung low on his hips. His hair is damp, fringe still dripping onto his forehead. He runs a hand through the gray-singed brown and stares at the tangle of fabric slung over your arm. “The hell is this?”

“Do you know what you’re wearin’?”

His eyes roll up to meet yours. “Do I know what I’m wearin’?”

You nod. “You’re the best man. Guessing Tommy has you covered?”

“Black suit,” he says, after a beat.

“That’s it? He ain’t got no theme?”

Joel’s head cocks. “I don’t do themes.”

You roll your eyes, ducking under his arm fixed against the doorpost. He manages three words of protest and then shuts the door in resignation, turning to watch as you take his stairs two at a time.

“You are so damn annoyin’, you know that?” his voice echoes behind you.

“You want this date or not, Miller?” you call over your shoulder, following the route through the identical house to your own bedroom – thankful when you nudge the door and it opens to reveal his bland, colorless decor. “Very…gray,” you note, feeling the shadow of him over your shoulder.

You throw the dresses down on his bed, satin and lace and pink and green swimming between one another on his sheets.

“I’m not wearin’ a dress.”

You glower at him. “Ha. We have to match.”

He rubs the towel against the back of his head, drying the dark hair. “Match how?”

“Y’know, your suit ‘n my dress. If I’m your date, we have to match.”

“Already told you. I’m wearin’ a black suit.”

“Right. But, like – what color tie? And can it be any of these colors?” You hold your hands out, surfing over the sea of shades. “Maybe,” you lift your eyebrows, eyes darting to the pale teal color, “this one?”

Joel entertains you for all of five seconds, lifting his cheeks in a false grin before they deflate. “No. Black.”

“Joel.”

He slings the towel over his folded arms, and looks at you plainly. “Black,” he says again, in a tone of voice which sounds something like a door being slammed shut.

Your eyes thin, and you gather your dresses up in one swipe. “Can you just –? Will you make sure that you match my corsage, at least?”

“Why the hell are you so hung up on this?”

“I’m not. I’m just tryna make it believable. You turned down cat lady Laura, this is what you get.”

He sighs, tossing the towel over to his laundry basket. “I will make sure I match your corsage. Happy?”

“Happy. Are you ready?”

“Give me five minutes.”

You huff, head rolling back. “You are so prima-donna, Joel Miller.”

With a sarcastic chuckle, he shoves you out of his bedroom to get dressed. You saunter down his stairs, drinking in every detail of his home as though it’s the only chance you’ll get to see it.

It probably is, when you think about it. You don’t imagine he’ll be inviting you over for drinks anytime soon.

Your eyes move along the wall as you slowly thump down his stairs, thrown from framed photo to framed photo – a black and white photo of a man with a tousle-haired boy on his lap, the kid’s tongue sticking from the corner of his mouth as he wraps his small hand around the neck of a guitar; an out-of-focus Christmas photo, a family of four sat in front of a million multicolored orbs dotted along the branches of a tree; a kid with skinned knees crouched by a German shepherd, his lanky arms hooked around the dog’s thick neck.

One brown suede jacket hangs from a coat peg at the bottom, Joel’s boots sat loose and unlaced beneath. A dark blue blanket draped over the back of his couch. A painting of a moose over his fireplace. Shelves lining one entire wall decorated with carved-wood animals, with more photographs of times gone and memories made, with books and DVDs that lend your fingertip with a heap of white dust as you drag it across their spines.

Enough to paint a picture, not quite enough to show you the colors. The tones, the depth. Despite your best efforts, the man remains a mystery. You settle with the fact he will never be fully revealed.

The creak of his stairs turns your attention from the guitar on the wall around to his tall figure, fixing the collar of the loose flannel over his shoulders.

“You ready?” Joel asks, bending with a groan to reach for his boots.

“Yep,” you reply, leaning forward to glance into his kitchen while his head’s down. The most you manage to observe are the light drapes, the sunlight shooting through and bouncing off of a white-topped island.

“’s go,” he says, keys dangling from his finger.

It takes twenty minutes to drive to Home Depot.

You chitter in Joel’s ear the entire time, reading from his handwritten list of measurements and supplies needed for your new closet. ‘n how do you know this is all enough? Because I know. What if you get started and it’s not? I won’t; it’s enough. You sound so sure. That’s ‘cause I’ve done it before, kid. You take many closetless girls out on fake wedding dates, Joel?

“What’s our story, then?” you ask in the store, fiddling with hanging packets of door hinges while Joel reads thrice over his note. Your hand dives into the bag of M&M’s he begrudgingly bought you at a gas station on the way.

“Our story?” he mumbles back, the words slipping under the mental math you can see going on behind his eyes.

“Like, when people ask how we met. What’s our meet-cute? Both reached for the same door hinge, our hands touched and lit aflame? That kinda thing?”

He doesn’t laugh. Your smile dampens instantly. You kick his boot. “Joel.”

“’sec,” he frowns, “I’m focusing.”

You lean close, pushing on your toes to study the folded slip. His scrawled numbers, the pencil lines blunt and smudged in the creases of the paper.

“Twentytwofortysixeightyninetyfivesixhundredelevenfourtwelvenineteen–”

Joel’s lips seep a maddened sigh; he glances down the aisle like a store attendant might separate you from him if he demanded with enough passion, or maybe if he slipped them a twenty.

“Do you mind?” he barks, his expression a brick wall for your giggles to fall flat to the floor against.

“Home Depot’s your stomping ground. Why the hell do I gotta come watch you pick hinges and timber?”

“Because it’s your damn closet I’m fittin’. Just –” he swipes two packets from their peg, tossing them into the shopping cart, “– come on.”

Joel makes off down the muck-colored floor, the overhead lights reflecting harshly in the shiny surface. The front right wheel of the cart trembles as it rolls, nervously leading the two of you down an aisle lined with cylinder tins and pamphlets on Choosing the right finish.

“So, are your parents gonna be at this wedding?” you ask, taking the cart from Joel’s hands when he drifts off to study a shelf of wood varnish.

His jaw turns towards you, and then back to the tin in his hand. “Yeah. Why?”

“Do I get to meet ‘em?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not gonna introduce your date to your mom and dad?”

He scoffs, stealing a handful of candy. “My fake date?”

“They don’t know that. Let me meet Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”

He holds two tins up, offering them to you like answer to your question. “Matt or gloss? Guess it don’t really matter if I’m painting ‘em after.”

“Stop fuckin’ ignoring me. I hate when you do that.”

He leans in close, lowering the matt varnish into the cart. “You think I’m gonna introduce you ‘n your potty mouth to my mom?”

You smirk, eyes narrow. “Dick.”

“Funny. What color paint you want? You said something about duck egg?”

“Planning on repainting my room that color, yeah. Hey, you could –”

He swats your pointed finger away, taking the cart back. “We shook on new wardrobe. No changin’ the deal,” he mutters, wandering over to the rainbow of paint tins on the opposite side of the aisle.

You follow him over, eyes moving from blue over to green, the tins plastered with the fake smiles of families and fluffy pet dogs on the front. “Where are your mom and dad from?” you ask.

“Austin,” he replies, eyes squinting to read the small print on the back of one vibrant shade. You shake your head and guide his wrist back to the shelf, where he obediently sets the heavy tin back. “Never known anywhere else,” he adds. “What about you? Where’s Mr. and Mrs. Potty Mouth?”

“Uh,” you swipe at your nose awkwardly, “they’re up in Allandale. That’s where I grew up.”

“That so? I got a cousin who used to live that way. Used to take my bike up every Saturday. He lived right by this old car shop, all these old classics they used to fix up ‘n resell.”

“Yeah,” you say, “right next to the cemetery, right?”

“That’s the one,” Joel says, lifting paint tins to the light and setting them down again. “They live nearby?”

Your breathing shifts, starts to claw its way up your throat. Your chest heats, skin lighting with an irritating anxiety. “They’re, um,” you gulp, “they’re in the cemetery.”

Joel pauses, letting the tin slip from his grasp with an echoing thud against the wooden shelf which reverberates in your ears a second too long. “Oh,” he says, set on your expression.

“It’s okay – I don’t mind. It’s – it was a car accident, back when I was eight. I wasn’t in it, or anything. I grew up with my grandma. Really, Joel, I don’t mind,” you add, when his face falls and he begins to apologize.

“I had no idea,” he says, and you break the eye contact before you break a fucking sweat.

“’s all good,” you murmur, lifting paint tins of your own now, focusing on deblurring your glossy vision, “I got to buy a big house with the money they left.”

It thaws him a little. He snorts, and taps the lid of the tin you’re holding. “That one’s nice. You, uh – you okay?”

You finally turn back, the world clearer, colors no longer bleeding into one another through sharp tears. “Yeah. I’m fine. We got everything?”

Joel nods, and wheels the cart around. “You can meet her, if you want. My mom. She’s a little full on, but I reckon you can handle her.”

You smile, following him down the aisle.

A month after he delivered your underwear back to you, you’re back on Joel’s doorstep.

Your hand flicks nervously at your side as you wait for him to answer, petals of your corsage quivering. The clip of his footsteps echoes down the stairs, a deep sound growing louder and louder until the door clinks open and you’re separated only by air.

Joel’s eyes scan down your body at the same time yours scan down his. Black suit, sure enough, just without the jacket, and with his tie slung around his loose collar. You both freeze when your eyes meet again, your lips silently forming the shape of an avalanche of words that refuse to sound until Joel’s do.

“Wow, you –”

“– look great, I –”

“– nice dress, is that –? Sorry –”

“– no, I’m sorry, you were – sorry.” A laugh pushes from your throat. “You look – you look good. Scrub up well, ‘n all that.”

“You too. You – Yeah. That’s a nice color, after all. You suit it.” His eyes linger on your chest, your breasts draped in lustrous silk, decorated with the glint of golden jewelry. You notice.

“Thanks. After all?” You snort, and Joel’s exterior seems to crack a little.

He steps back, ushering you in. “Alright,” he says, taking the tote with your change of clothes from your wrist. He watches across the street as you step over the threshold, his fingertips light on your back as you pass by, like little shocks of lightning up your spine. “You know what I meant.”

Your dress swishes around your ankles, your heels clicking along his varnished floor. Your arms lock around your torso, holding your pashmina in place while Joel totters around, tossing his jacket over his shoulders. His shirt stretches from his tight waistband, fabric flattening against his tummy. Your eyes shoot north again when he speaks.

“You mind doin’ my tie? It’ll end up squint if I do.”

“Sure,” you reply, stepping forward.

He buttons the top of his shirt and lifts his chin, staring at the wall behind you as you tug on the black fabric, the silk slipping through your fingers. You steal glances at the trim of his beard, his pink lips beneath the dark bristles; the slope of his nose, the lines on his worn skin.

He’s rough around the edges, sure, a man in his late forties. But there’s something soft about him, something familiar and…comfortable. The pages of a used sketchbook, the lived-in material of a favorite dress.

You pull the knot higher until it’s sitting in the notch below his Adam’s apple, smoothing it down and giving his chest a light pat before stepping back again.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he mumbles, and a spark lights in your chest. “Oh,” he says, holding a finger up and disappearing into the kitchen. He returns with a little white box, holding it out for you to see.

Your cheeks swell, eyes flitting up to acknowledge the proud look on his face. “Very nice. Good job.”

“You can do the honors,” Joel says, handing you the boutonniere by the stem.

You pin it through his lapel, straightening it with a focused glance. Joel’s eyes are on you, watching the flutter of your eyelashes, the tilt of your head. “There,” you whisper, leaning back.

He extends his elbow, something of a smile on his lips. You don’t see it often. It beckons a mirrored expression.

Arm in arm, Joel leads you out to the truck, where he helps you up and waits for you to scoop your dress into the footwell before closing the door. You watch patiently as he locks the front door, slings both your bags over his shoulder and jogs back to the truck, tossing them in the backseat before joining you in the front.

“How come he didn’t send a limousine? Or a Jag, or somethin’?”

“You think we’re made a’ money?” Joel asks, smirking.

You return the smile, wrapping your shawl over your body. “Can I pick the music?” you ask, earnestly, a tinge of sweetness to your voice.

Joel glances over again, reaches behind your headrest to reverse out of the drive. He runs his tongue along his top teeth. “No,” he says.

Three hours later, Tommy and Maria are married.

The wedding is…big. Joel’s family is big. The venue – a rustic hotel suite, fairy lights draped from the rafters, blooming flowers sprouting from crystal vases, lace tablecloths and tied chair cushions and wax dripping from thick, naked candles – is big.

Joel’s been good about it – that friendly neighbor you see all too little has been kicked into high gear. He delivered you by hand straight to his mom – a small woman with silver hair neatly twisted into an updo at the back of her head – who took your hand and held it tightly all the way to your seats.

Kind and warm, she asked where you were from, how you met Joel, how long you’d been dating. She offered you some tissues before the ceremony started, then winked and nodded in Joel’s direction as the bridesmaids swept down the aisle.

You lingered behind the photographer while he took photos of the wedding party, instructing them to shuffle a little closer, that’s it; ma’am, with the red hair, lower your bouquet a little; alright, now, everyone: big smiles!

You worried that Joel had kept the same placated smile frozen on his face for so long that it might never melt away, might never return to the stoic scowl you’re so used to seeing on him. You didn’t even realize you were staring at him, until he waved you down, flicked his hand, and beckoned you over to the group.

You hesitated. I don’t know if I –

Get over here, girl, Tommy had called, grinning alongside his big brother.

The two Millers slotted you in like a jigsaw piece between their bodies, two arms wrapped around your back – Tommy’s, loose on your shoulders, and Joel’s, tight around your waist. He held you close, squeezing you into his side while the photographer praised the party and snapped photo after photo, the flash burning into your eyes by the time he clapped his hands and thanked you all for your patience.

Drink? Joel had asked, and you’d responded with one thumb up, the other massaging your eyelids. He squeezed your shoulder and disappeared into the crowd of bodies.

He’s still over there – by the bar, a wooden structure draped in ivy and studded by steel bolts. His beer in one hand and your wine in the other. A lean, poised figure stood opposite him – her dress a royal purple, her hair a wave of brown spilling over her bare shoulders.

She’s beautiful – a striking charm which draws your eye to her like an arrow directly through the sea of bodies between here and there. Her languid movements, the slow roll of her neck to sweep the hair from one side of her body to the other.

Her head falls back in laugher, her bejeweled hand falls softly on his arm. Your throat closes sharply. Joel nods, angling as if to make off, but she holds onto him and leans in. He laughs, then, at whatever her full lips whisper into his ear, and he finally breaks off from her and returns to you.

He pushes the glass by its base across the smooth tablecloth. Your fingers brush over one another as you trade, the stem sitting between your index and middle. He’s warm, his knuckles kissing yours.

“How was it, then, talkin’ to my mom?” Joel asks.

You smile, propping your chin on the heel of your palm. “I like her. She’s funny.” And then, when he tosses his head in response, “Who were you talkin’ to?”

Joel follows your eyeline over to the woman in the purple dress. The glint of white crystal on her neck. The drama of dark hair on pale skin. “Uh,” he wanders around your back to his chair, “we used to work together.”

Your nails tap against the glass. “Oh, yeah?”

He sniffs. Doesn’t meet your eye. “Yep.”

“You were talking to her for a long time.”

He watches a blue orb dance over your head on the wall, a spot of light from the disco ball over the dancefloor. “Lotta memories.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

His eyes plummet. Fall from the string bulbs straight to your face, sparkling in the rainbow lights. “You want me to look at you? There.”

You grin. “’s better. If you stare up there long enough, they might stick.”

“Safer to have ‘em stuck on you, is it?”

“Mhm,” your voice echoes around the curve of your wine glass, “better view. So, who is she?”

Joel shifts uncomfortably. He twirls the bottle in his fingers. “We…we were together for some time. A few years.”

“An ex,” you muse, stain of lipstick left on the rim of your glass. “How many years?”

“Eight.”

You almost choke on your drink. “Eight – eight years?”

Joel nods, waiting for you to catch your breath. Expression never changing. Bottle still twirling. “Haven’t seen her in a while. We were just catchin’ up.”

“Eight fucking years. Why the fuck aren’t you married?”

He scoffs. “That’s a fifth-date question.” He lifts the bottle to his lips, tongue pushes against the glass.

“I don’t need five fuckin’ wardrobes,” you quip, and he laughs. Like, genuinely laughs. His head tips back, his teeth show. Your chest swells, confidence and relief blooming there. She didn’t make him laugh like that – not from where you were watching.

It becomes something of a mission in the back of your mind – tallying up how many times you can make his chest shudder, his shoulders jerk. How many times he leans in closer and repeats whatever you said, eyes closing over and hand hitting his thigh. How many times he looks at you and your stomach flutters, the blood cartwheels through your veins, the bones of your ribcage readjust and make room for the swelling of your heart.

Within four rounds, you’ve lost count.

The thudding beat of the music muffles in your drunken ears, like it’s coming from the next room. Your gaze fixes on the vase in the center of the table, the bouquet spilling over the glass. The wide burst of speckled lilies, the humble blush of tulips between. The colors soften and blur the longer you stare at them.

The jerk of Joel’s shoulders stirs you from your daydream. That’s one more.

“What?” you ask, head rolling to look over to him.

“You still in there?” he asks, one word slurring into the next like waves lapping.

You scoff, looking back to the pink flowers. “You know who has tulips?” you ask him.

He lifts his eyebrows. Who?

“Alice.”

“Brown?”

Your head nods heavily. “One time, she was out getting her mail, and I had just pulled up in my car on the phone to my best friend – he’d just broken up with his girlfriend, it was a whole thing…” You bat your hand. “Anyway. She pretended to tend to her tulips for forty-five minutes while I sat talkin’ to him in the driveway.”

Joel’s head tilts back with a burst of laughter. “She hear every word?”

“Every – damn – word. Stood by the fence listenin’.”

“That woman is som’ else,” Joel says, shaking his head. He stares down at the bottle between his fingers. His thumbs play with the curled corner of the label. “Didn’t I warn you about her?”

“Mhm.” You smile, realizing he has the same memory that you do, locked up somewhere in his mind. The sweat running down his temple, the dark patch between his shoulder blades. His hands gripping the heavier boxes, leaving you to carry the linen, the base of a lamp. Nodding as he wandered back over to his own porch, calling back for you to Holler if you need anythin’.

The high squeal of the Sweet Child O’ Mine intro snaps you back to the wedding reception. Tommy and Maria are playing air guitar on the dancefloor over Joel’s shoulder. You unstick your gaze from his white shirt, unsure how long you’ve been fucking staring.

Joel sits forward, drags his chair across the polished floor closer to you. He fixes the strap on your dress, untwisting it before settling back again. Your eyes follow his fingers as they leave your shoulder and sit back on the curve of his thigh, lifting when his voice breaks through to your eardrums.

“What room number did you say you were, again?”

Your shoulders roll. “Thirty-four, I think.”

Joel nods. Points to himself. “Thirty-six.” And then he glances over his shoulder, watches as Tommy kneels before Maria and rocks his head, his messy mop of hair tossed across his shoulders. The older Miller brother turns back. “Think they’ll miss us if we call it a night?”

“We’re callin’ it a night?”

“Figure if I’m headin’ off then you won’t wanna be sat here by yourself,” Joel says, and he’s right. He stands up, sets the half-empty bottle on the tablecloth and stares down at you. “I’m callin’ it a night,” he tells you. “You comin’?”

The colors in the room spin like the reels of a slot machine. Your fingers sit lightly in his outstretched palm, and you pull yourself up alongside him.

“’s a good girl,” he mutters, looking over your shoulder to the doorway, and your eyes sober up long enough to catch the flicker in his eye.

You totter along the hallway, arm in arm, anchoring yourselves together. Whichever way one sways, the other inevitably follows. You’re laughing, and Joel’s hushing you, warning that there are folks tryna – tryna sleep, we’re in a fancy place, hey, da-rlin’, no – you gotta shhhut up.

“Great party,” you decide, finally docking against your door.

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, leaning a little on the wall. The gentle glow of the hallway lights him perfectly; the strong angle of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones. The hazel pools that make up his irises, the swollen circles of black in the middle. And the twinkle in them, like the moon reflecting on dark water, every time his gaze lifts to you.

He’s different tonight. Maybe it’s the alcohol. The way it colors everything in a peachy film, all objects softened and rosy and shapeless. But he feels different, too. You suddenly realize, shoulder pressed hard against the cold doorframe, that you’ve never touched one another more than you have today. His elbow in yours, his arm around your waist, his hand through yours as you danced together.

“Are you tired?” you ask, head rolling.

“Tired? No. Drunk, yeah. Not tired.” He laughs again. It’s infectious.

“You wanna come inside?” you ask, words leaping from your giggle.

He takes ten seconds to consider it. Slumps into the wall, steadied only by his forearm pushing him back upright. His watch face catches the light behind him.

“Yeah. Fuck yeah, I do.”

Your hand fumbles in your clutch for the keycard, swiping the handle and pushing down heavily. You spill into the dark room, light sneaking in from the sconce outside your window, and spin back to face him, his hand locked tight with yours.

Joel follows you slowly as you back towards the bed, kicking your heels off and tripping over the skirt of your dress. When your legs hit the plush mattress, his body leans into yours. Your lips ghost across his, your words pushing them apart one by one.

“This ain’t – part of the – agreement,” you murmur, the coarse hair of his beard scratching your chin. You pull apart his tie, loosening the knot.

“Changed my mind,” he replies, collapsing on top of you on the bed.

Your head rolls back when his lips suck into your neck. You wrestle with his belt, with the waist of his suit trousers. “No changin’ the deal, remember?”

“Tell me to stop.”

If you had any intention of answering him, your body overrides it. Words lassoed and dragged back down where they came from, your throat opening only to gasp when Joel’s teeth graze the flesh of your breast. His fingers tug on the straps of your dress, letting them fall from your shoulders until your chest sits exposed.

He drags his tongue along your skin, dipping between your tits while his hands massage them, fingers pinching your nipples. Your back lifts and his hands move beneath, following the curve of your spine to where your dress pools loose around your waist. He pushes down, slinking the smooth fabric from your body.

“You fuckin’…” He clicks his teeth, laughing behind them. Another flush of heat washes over your skin.

You giggle, bending your knees to cover the lace panties he knows all too fucking well. Joel stops you, pushes your legs back down with two heavy hands.

“Don’t get shy now, baby,” he murmurs, opening your body up again. “You were so happy about me seein’ ‘em a few weeks ago, no?”

“’s different,” you reply, tang of alcohol fueling your words, “now I just want you to take them off me.”

He cocks his head, drinking every word you’re handing over like it’s water from an oasis. “Such a dirty girl, ain’t you?”

You pull him closer by the collar and line your mouth against his, the tip of your tongue wetting the inside of his lips. “You got no fucking idea,” you whisper, whipping the shirt from his torso.

Joel growls, flipping you over and pulling you by the shoulders flush against his chest. You hook an arm around his neck, turn to grant him access to your lips. He kisses you like a starved animal, savoring every taste, teeth nipping at your tingling lips.

His hand curves around your hips, pushing beneath your underwear to cup your mound, middle finger pushing on the spongey hood of your clit. Your head falls limp against his collarbone, back arching as Joel holds you steady with an arm around your waist.

“’s alright, baby,” he coos, his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “I’m gonna take good care of ya. Gonna give you what you need, alright?”

A strangled moan unravels across your tongue, echoing into Joel’s mouth. Your hips begin to gyrate, meeting the rhythm of his hand, his finger massaging rough circles into your clit. He smirks, peeling the panties down your thighs.

“Attagirl,” he breathes, “you want it bad, huh? Gettin’ so worked up so fast. Here.”

He removes his hand from between your legs, ignoring your moan of protest and replacing it with two fingers on your bottom lip. “Open,” he instructs, and you obey like a fucking dog. He slips them in, thick and heavy, and waits for you to coat them with your wine-stained tongue.

Joel pushes down, forcing a muffled gag from your throat which lifts the corners of his mouth. He shakes his head lightly, whispering, “You got it, ‘s okay.”

A thread of saliva strings between his fingers and your lips when he lowers his hand again, trailing his fingers through your folds until he’s dancing along the seam of your cunt. You jolt forward; Joel hauls you back.

“Just fucking – do it,” you whimper, your walls clenching around nothing.

He holds his fingers together, curling and inserting them in a painfully slow motion. Your knees widen on the mattress, body sinking down by instinct to meet his fist, to feel his thick fingers and wide knuckles as deep as they’ll go.

You gasp when Joel begins hooking them inside you, nudging against your walls like your heartbeat against your clit. Your hand lowers, slipping beneath his loose waistband, beneath the elastic of his boxers and around his already solid cock.

Joel groans, fucking you harder on his hand. “Fuck, just like that, baby. You feel what you do to me?”

“Uhuh,” you reply, voice wanton and broken.

You squeeze him, your fist moving up and down, his warm skin following the movements of your tight grip. His tip is already soaked, precome staining his underwear, dribbling down your thumb.

Joel uses his free hand to shove his pants down, crumpling on the floor at his feet when they free his cock. You carve your mouth around his, the two of you exchanging breath and flicking your tongues together as you fuck one another’s hands, the room slowly filling with the hot, muggy smell of sex.

Joel’s the first to cave. With a jerk of his hips, he takes you by the wrist and frees himself from your clutches.

“You’re gonna make me come, darlin’,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers from your cunt.

“That’s kinda the point here,” you reply, teeth bumping into his in a grin.

Joel shakes his head, lifting his hand, glistening with your arousal. “Gotta feel this fucking pussy first.”

You smile, parting your lips for him for the second time, suckling on his fingers and licking them clean of your own salty slick. His cock draws sticky trails on the seam of your thigh.

“Yeah,” Joel breathes, eyes fixed on the place where you close around him, “that good, baby? You gonna let me taste you?”

You release his fingers and he pulls you in, tongue slipping against yours with a groan which vibrates against your jaw. When your lips part, you hold your mouth open, your tongue sat on your bottom lip.

Joel reacts instantly, collecting a bead of saliva in front of his teeth and letting it drop into your mouth. You moan and swallow it, a cocktail of beer and whiskey and slick. Joel watches as you lick your lips, the stained-pink coated in a thick, white shine.

“Alright,” he says, letting you fall forward onto the bed. He jacks himself a few times, spitting into his hand and using it to coat his cock.

“Want you to come in it,” you whine, wiggling your ass for him as he lines up at your slit. You can feel the arousal gathered on his tip, dripping down your cunt.

“Yeah, baby,” Joel growls, a smirk on his lips as he watches himself slowly disappear inside you. And then –

You both fall silent, mouths hanging wide open as you each feel the width of his cock and the tightness of your cunt. The way your body opens up to accommodate his size, the direct pain and ethereal pleasure of Joel pushing into you.

“Fuck,” he groans, your pussy drawing him in with a sweet, wet sound. “Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. So damn gorgeous in that dress.”

You slowly move your hips back to meet him at the base of his cock; dark, trimmed hair bristling against your lips. Joel’s hands lock around your waist, holding you steady with his entirety buried inside, letting you adjust to him.

He’s so fucking big, so wide and deep that your breath tears rugged from your lungs, barreling up your windpipe. Your walls squeeze tight as he pulls out like your body refuses to let him go, like your cells understand better than you do that you were made for this – made for him. Like the only place in the world that he belongs, is somewhere deep inside you.

So big that it hurts, each time he fills you up and stretches you wide open. The pain an eye-rolling, lung-closing, limb-shaking sensation.

Your elbows give, falling chest-first onto the mattress while Joel fucks you hard, his hands gripping your hips. Your cheek and breasts flat against the sheets, your back arched. He slams into you, edging you closer and closer with each meeting of his warm skin against yours, each sopping slap of come and saliva.

The mattress shifts above your head, two valleys where his palms push down heavily, then the weight of his body at the back of your thighs. He towers over you, hips hammering so hard that you’re forced to hook your fingers around his wrists just to stay on the same fucking planet.

“Gonna – fuckin’ – come – baby,” he spits, his jaw locked tight. “You want it in this little pussy? You think she can take it all?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, the edges of your words rounded by the silk sheets. “Joel, I – fuck –”

“Yeah, she can,” he agrees, playing with the hair spilling across your shoulders and taking it in a fistful.

The hazy drunken blur begins to turn over in favor of something sharper, something electric pulsing through your veins. Every part of your body alive, everything rising to meet the same high, the same release. You cling onto him, body beginning to melt beneath his.

Joel’s lips press between your shoulder blades. “Don’t fight it, baby, let go. I got you.”

You moan his name in one last pathetic attempt before the world whitens. You clench around him as a deafening orgasm shocks through your body, curling your back and forcing your nails deep into Joel’s wrists.

“Fuck, baby, fuck me,” Joel gasps. He slams into you one final time before you feel the staggered pump of his come flooding between your walls. “Ahh,” he groans, pushing apart your ass cheeks to watch the trickle seep from your cunt. “Good fucking girl. Take it, baby. That’s my girl.”

He turns you over onto your back and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him against your body as he thrusts into you again, tenderly pushing his spend deeper inside. It draws a strained moan from your throat.

“’s alright,” he coos, hips slowing against yours, “just feel it, baby. You feel how deep I am?”

“Uhuh,” you cry, nails digging into his skin, damp with sweat.

“So fuckin’ full of me,” he says, more to himself, before collapsing alongside you, holding your thigh on his hip, his tip still sheathed inside you.

You lie like that for a while, listening to the distant hum of music from downstairs, the party still raving in the belly of the hotel while you two lay in content bliss somewhere in its ribcage. Tracing one another’s features, learning the lines on Joel’s face, the flecks of gray in his eyebrows – all the parts you’re never close nor brave enough to get to know.

His right hand massages your plush waist, his left arm a pillow to rest your heavy, dizzy, drunk head on.

“I wanna do it again,” you whisper, the words sneaking out between heavy breaths.

Joel nods. His bottom lip sticks with sweat to yours. His hips push a little neater into you. “I wanna do it again, too.”

“I wanna do it all night.”

He hasn’t stopped nodding. He shrugs, tightens his grip around your shoulders, and tilts his head. “Then let’s do it all fucking night,” he says, and his lips slam back into yours.

The morning after the wedding, Joel drives you home. The truck soars down the highway, the two of you an uncomfortable distance apart. The same sobering distance you’ve kept all morning – the unreal aftermath of sex.

The rolling waves of bedsheets between your bodies; the sun sifting her long fingers through his hair as she peered through the curtains. The way you’d silently pushed yourself from the mattress, fragmenting your movements and allowing the spring to dip a fraction at a time so not to wake him. The spongey feel of the hotel carpet under the balls of your feet as you’d tottered to the bathroom. The sharp shot of the lock sliding into place, echoing like a bullet.

He waited until you finished showering to get ready himself. Sat on the edge of the bed patiently and watched your shadow beneath the door, the to-and-fro of your silhouette breaking the sliver of golden light as you dressed your sticky body. When you pulled on the metal lock again, he was sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, pinching the bridge of his nose. His bare shoulders were curved, and tanned. You blinked twice to store the image and turned away as he stood.

He says he feels hungover. You say you do, too. It’s the closest you come to talking about it. You hop out of the truck in his drive, your tote bag hooked on your shoulder. The canvas gnawing at the silk inside. Joel tells you he’ll see his end of the deal through in a couple weeks.

“Real busy with work,” he mutters apologetically, his wrists still balancing on the steering wheel.

“That’s good,” you tell him, nodding. “I ain’t in any rush. I know where you live, so.”

A relieved laugh pushes from his lips. “I will get to it,” he assures you.

You shrug casually. “Whenever, Joel.”

You don’t talk for a few days. A few days bleeds into three weeks. You find yourself stood by his front tires, throwing his newspaper onto the porch and scampering when it lands. The noise like a bomb dropping.

Slowly, as the month draws on, you become braver and braver – daring closer and closer to his front door, until you’re back to marching up the steps like you own the place, depositing the roll on his doormat. Rubbing your thumbs against your fingers to feel the ink like satin.

The door cracks open as you make your way back down his steps one bright morning.

“Hey, kid,” Joel murmurs, reaching down for the paper with a groan.

“Hey.”

“You doin’ okay?” he asks, leaning his forearm against the door.

Your head tilts back and forth, your hand lifting to shield your eyes from the sun. “Think I ate som’ bad, maybe. Weird stomach this mornin’.”

Joel’s chin angles. “Hope it ain’t contagious. Was thinkin’ I could get that closet started for you, maybe tomorrow?”

The offer takes you off guard. You buffer for a few seconds before answering, “Sure. Sure, just, uh – just come over whenever, I guess.”

“Nine work for you?”

You nod. “Nine’s good. See ya then.”

It’s something like nine when you find out.

You wake feeling groggy. Tired, sluggish. A heavy ache pulling on your breasts as you rise from bed, tender and swollen. You stand in the bathroom, milky morning light filtering in through the doorway, and your stomach lurches. Waves of nausea deep in your belly, rocking back and forth, swirling and spiraling.

You’ve a box under your sink. It makes sense. Before Joel was some date from Hinge, who fucked you against the wall of his living room and who snored so loud that you left before the sun came up. Negative. Like always.

But it never hurts to be sure.

The pack tears like it’s liquid in your hands. Peels back to reveal the plastic white test, the bubblegum pink cap – like it’s something fun and sweet to place the direction of your future into this little device. A clinical compass needle.

Three to five minutes. You set it down on the counter and drag yourself back through to your room, lifting your bedsheets, tucking them under the mattress, heaving your pillows back into place against the headboard. An uncomfortable heat boiling under the surface of your skin, a prickle of sweat clinging to the nape of your neck.

A sickly taste harboring on your tongue, you pad back to the bathroom and swipe the test up. Your eyes scan past the result window to the counter as you reach for your toothbrush – and then snap abruptly back to the tiny oval. Your outstretched hand freezes in midair. There’s no fucking w–

Your arm swings back to reach for the light cord. The bulb hesitates – flickers, like it’s unsure whether to reveal the truth to you. It knows something you don’t. It’s seen something it doesn’t want to show you. You stare at the pregnancy test.

Two little pink lines stare back. And Joel knocks at your door.

#forgive me for it not being clm or sof #they're coming very soon i promise #this was too fun an idea not to chase #i have the attention span of my labrador retrievers (nil) #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #neighbor!joel #babydaddy!joel miller

[fcthots]

Jason gets so pussydrunk and it doesn’t take much at all. Like you’re talking to him while sitting down in a dress. You don’t think anything of it, you’re just getting more comfortable, so you open your legs. His gaze drops as your legs uncross and his eyes never leave you. His face goes bright red. Without warning, he rushes forward and falls to his knees. He thumbs at the seams of your underwear. “Please.” When you nod your head, he tugs them down your legs reverently. He kisses all over your thighs, leaving you speechless. Unacceptable. “Keep talking, baby. I wanna hear your voice. I need it.” His voice is whiny and he makes no move to hide it. His kisses trail closer and closer to where you want him, but right before he gets there, you lace your fingers through his hair and tug him back, making him let out a sound that you wish you had recorded. He needs to beg for it. You can see the thought click in his clouded eyes. Despite not having touched your pussy yet, he’s breathless. “I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. Please. I’ll be so good for you.” You push his face into your cunt and you can feel the vibrations of his moan, you take it as an excuse to grind into his face. Call him your slut, he'd like it.

#galas are fun #almost made this mommy kink #jason todd #jason todd x reader #saph’s thots #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x you #jason todd smut #red hood smut #red hood x reader smut #jason todd x reader smut #smut #my brain is losing my hyperfixation and I’m brawling with it. I will not go down without a fight. #as always I was too lazy to proofread #jason todd x afab!reader

[kentopedia]

eek ! ! ! i am very excited to announce the upcoming productions for this season at the theatre of vampires!! dates are listed if you wanna grab a ticket (and maybe a bite before the show) . . .

please note that if you attend, the theatre is not responsible for any blood loss or death !! warnings will be posted with each show, so please be sure to read them before engaging in dark content! anyone under eighteen will not be allowed entry into the theatre.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ this is everything we have planned for now, as it will hopefully be a feasible amount for our busy season !! lmk if you'd like to book a ticket in advance & i'll give you a tag on that piece !!

october 1 - his parliament's on fire ♰ port mafia boss / night club owner dazai . . . every man in yokohama has a long list of crimes they'd commit to be with you, but none quite as long as dazai's.

october 6 - pain reliever ♰ vampire yuuta . . . your vampire boyfriend can't resist the taste of you during a certain time of the month

october 10 - skipping heartbeats ♰ curse user nanami . . . nanami wants to see every jujutsu sorcerer dead, but he might make an exception just for you

october 13 - sweet serial killer ♰ serial killer chuuya . . . chuuya's always in such a rush to get home to you, so he can't really be blamed if he misses a few drops of blood on his clothes.

october 17 - sent to destroy ♰ fallen angel dazai . . . he promises he's not the devil, but he steals your soul with just a kiss.

october 21 - cold embrace - ON HOLD !! ♰ ghost fyodor . . . he's spent two hundred years murdering whoever moves into his home, but he can't remember a time they were ever as pretty as you.

october 27 - bleeding me dry ♰ vampire dazai . . . it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover and your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

october 31 - to be revealed later ♰ nanami . . . super special fic that i'm not sure will be finished by halloween, but i want to write it eventually, so it'll be my little secret for now !

⤷ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !!

#♰ theatre of vampires #IM SO EXCITED ABOUT THESE !! #i came up with so many of them in like ... july lmao #& guys !!! theyre not all dazai !!! #i hopeeee you are excited too bc im really pushing myself with some of these #but i think itll be fun !! #hopefully i don't lose motivation !!! #dazai smut #nanami smut #bsd x reader #osamu dazai x reader #jjk smut #yuuta x reader #kento nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #bungo stray dogs smut #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya smut

[mysicklove]

service subs! who struggle to communicate just exactly how much they love and appreciate you, so they turn to the next best thing: serving you. who love to do the basic tasks for you — cleaning, cooking, chores around the house, and even the most simple things like putting on your shoes or fixing your work clothes. who like to make decisions for the both of you when in public. where to eat next, paying for you, and planning out vacations and trips. but of course, they do always expect a reward by the end of the night. blinking at you until you acknowledge how well they have done because, in their head, they are borderline screaming: look how clean the house is! look, I made your favorite meal! look at the nice event I planned for you! and of course, you praise them for how well they did, because every time it shocks you from how good they treat you. service subs! who live for your sweet words and hold a wobbly grin whenever you acknowledge their hard work, blushing and looking away but ecstatic.

service subs! who, privately, get off to the idea of being something less than you. to be at your mercy and willingly take on any command in a heartbeat. who enjoy kneeling in front of you more than anything and will stay there for hours if you asked them to. their thoughts are constantly on how to make you feel good, how to please and pleasure you completely. and it's quite cute, considering the second you touch them, they seem to light up because how were they so lucky to have your fingertips grazing their body? service subs! who would do borderline anything just to make you happy.

Armin Arlert, Nanami Kento, Yuuji Itadori, Reo Mikage, Keigo Tamaki, Shinobu Kocho, Katsuki Bakugou, Kyojuro Rengoku, Maki Zenin, Gyutaro

and of course, on the other end, pampered subs! love it when you do everything for them. order for them in public, pick out their clothing for the day, and secretly enjoy having a strict schedule that they have to abide by. who trust you enough for you to look out for them, and not have to think about the stresses of life with you. it was easier like that, and besides, you would never lead them astray. to stick by your side and wait, like a good sub, while you figure out the next course of action for the two of you. who finds themselves turning to you when someone asks them a question as if to ask, is this alright? can I go out with them? what do you think? but of course, they would never tell anyone that you make the decisions for the two of you because they do have their pride to hold up, or at least that's what they dramatically complain to you about.

pampered subs! who don't mind at all when you focus on them the entire time in bed. who live for the attention and soak up every touch. who even begin to act spoiled from time to time, getting peeved when you even mention someone else or your hands drift away for too long. who let out whiny complaints and dramatic demands that you can't help but obey. because how could you not? they are too cute not to please and spoil. who love the sickly sweet nicknames you give them that make them feel like they are some sort of toy or doll to you. but that just makes them feel even more special, to be your toy, your favorite doll. and besides, if you wanted to control them completely, they wouldn't mind one bit <3

Tomura Shigaraki, Levi Ackerman, Seishiro Nagi, Giyuu Tomioka, Rin Itoshi, Nobara Kugisaki, Denki Kaminari, Mitsuri Kanroji, Suguru Geto, Tamaki Amajiki, Megumi Fushiguro

#mello.writes #this was sooooo fun to write #im not going to tag the specifics it takes too long #so #jjk x reader #mha x reader #kny x reader #bhna x reader #bllk x reader #kny smut #bhna smut #mha smut #bllk smut #jjk smut #x reader #reader insert

[b1mbodoll]

i dont know why hybrid breeders thought it was a perfect idea to put bunny!you in a cage with wolf!nicho (＞人＜;) he so obviously could break you to pieces but instead he likes to play with you! pulling on your ears and flicking your tail :( it's enough to make you whine everytime but he doesn't care !!!! and eventually when his heat comes, you can tell bcs hes twice as mean when teasing you, pushing you down and lifting your ass up so he could "play with you like normal" but the whole time his hybrid cock is running against your pussy TT n when you get really fussy it gets hard not to fill you all the way up completely (non con) ★★★ literally theres no way you're getting out of his hold! you can cry and try to push him away but hes 10x stronger than you and his heat makes him soooo hot all he can think abt is making your tummy swell up with his pups! (so unrealistic but i know you're into it but imagine him fucking his knot into you so deep it starts pooling out your mouth and your eyes are rolled back and u cant do anything but feel it completely)

love 🎀 anonie!

pairings: nicholas wang x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + inflation + knotting + breeding + blood + noncon + jealousy + a/b/o dynamics + drool + daddy kink + subspace + inflation

💌: i had to prio this bc its so dreamy like 😵‍💫 u included a lot of my fave kinks n tropes n im so thankful i love u so much for swndinf this my way idk how much i can add on bc its lrtrly perfect but i hope i do it justice !

the first time you and nicho r forced into the same cramped cage your heart was racing and ur tail was twitching so bad :( your reaction tugged at nicho’s heartstrings but the lust he felt was overpowering any bit of sympathy. he’s not a complete monster so he doesn’t take your virginity immediately. instead the wolfboy satiates his sick need to torment you by tugging at your loppy ears and mouthing at your cotton tail, strings of saliva coat the entire thing n pool at your asshole.

he doesn’t go any further yet, has to get you used to the “tame” stuff before he can fuck you raw. tries to hold back for as long as he can but the closer he gets to his rut, the less self control he has n it’s your fault he’s got his teeth planted on your shoulder as he slips his cockhead inside. “your pussy is so tiny, bunny,” he murmers, words slightly slurred from the drool escaping him, “gonna fuckin’ tear you apart.”

before he’s able to fill you up completely, nicho’s needed in the breeding room n your handler lets you out into the gated pasture, doing their best to keep you two in seperate enclosures from that moment on.

it’s been a week since your caging situation was sorted n the wolfboy is lucky if he catches a glimpse of you through a fence. words cant describe how furious nicholas is, snarling at the sight of bunny hybrid! euijoo cuddling up to you under a tree wishing he could scare the male into submitting to him n prove to you that he’s the prime mating choice.

it’s not long before your luck runs out and wolf! nicholas corners you after your caretakers have gone to bed. he’s so large and intimidating and his cold stare makes your legs shake with fear. the silence is deafening and he breaks it by asking to play, the question making your blood run cold because in his world, “playing” means letting him grope you n leave bloody lovebites across your chest. he doesn’t bother waiting for a reply because no matter how much you refuse he’s not gonna leave you alone. he needs to touch you.

nicho decides to go about toying with you differently this time. has to put you in your place n get it through your head that you nd your bunnycunt belong to him! snarls when he gets a whiff of euijoo’s scent, “present f’me, slut” he demands and the need to obey is so strong. has you opening your legs immediately, small hands spreading your hole open to expose your pussy. he groans at the sight and his mind becomes cloudy due to his impending rut, cant take the time to prep your cunt for his huge cock so he just opts to get it over with and makes you take his entire length in one go. “knew you’d feel good ‘round my cock,” his voice is thick, “gonna make you have my pups, bun.” more filthy words are directed to you n they have you keening, fucking yourself on his cock faster n faster.

it’s easy to slip into a submissive headspace, the feeling of his balls slapping your clit and knot beginning to inflate are overwhelmingly delicious leaving you no choice but to beg. “pleasepleaseplease cum, alpha! need your knot so bad i hafta make you a daddy!” nicholas fucking howls when his seed shoots directly into your womb and it makes your eyes cross. even after his knot reaches its full size he continues grinding his cock into you, cum getting pushed so deep inside it spills out of your open mouth n trickles down your chin. he’s too far gone and can’t stand the sight of his semen dripping out, cups your jaw with his hands n covers your mouth, makin you choke on the creamy fluid <3

#need a beta reader fr but also im too embarrassed to have other ppl critique my writing #so just know!!!!!! im not a srs writer guys i write for fun pls dont be mean ab my writing style :< ill cry #i want to gatekeep this ask bc its good enough to post alone #i hope u guys like my drabble :( im supes insecure ab this bc i feel like its not up to par with my other works #whatever thjs is for fun!!! enjoy lil pervs #♡.signed. sealed. delivered. #♡.the honeypot #♡.sweetheart: 🎀 #nicholas wang #&team #nicholas wang x reader #nicholas wang smut #&team x reader #&team smut #💌.hybrids #💌.daddy kink #💌.biting #💌.blood #💌.noncon #💌.knotting #💌.a/b/o #💌.inflation

[l3viat8an]

Love the new layout my heart. <3

And I’ve been thinking of Cockwarming Diavolo

Thoughts 🎤

Thank you Skyy <3 And I have a little thot~ Nsfw

Hear me out!! He would love to do it right after you two have sex~

Diavolo would be fucking into you from behind and rather than pulling out, he just pulls you closer and let his cock rest inside of you, insisting that you simply feel too good to pull out just yet.

One of his big hands trailing over the marks he left earlier and his other arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you still.

Whispering sweet nothings mixed with dirty praise in your ear, telling you how good it felt and how well you milked his cock.

His teeth nipping playfully at your shoulder ‘n neck, enjoying the soft whimpers you make from the over stimulation.

And!!! And! Teasing him just a bit, grinding yourself back on his cock and getting him hard again.

He won’t bother wasting time by starting to slowly thrust into you, instead simply whispering “Such a naughty little human, you just can’t get enough my cock can you?” before going another round~

#:3 hehe #that’s one way it could go anyways- ofc there is always just cockwarming him while he does paperwork which is just always fun #< and I’ll write that too!! (at some point hdjdhd) #moot mail! #obey me! #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo smut #obey me smut #obey me x reader #smut tag #obey me #om! #obmswd #obmswd diavolo #obmswd x reader #om! diavolo #om! smut #om! x reader #obmswd smut #roro writes

[chrollohearttags]

prompt #6

toxic armin! nd reader are arguing nd when reader talks her shit armin gets turned on nd pulls his dick out nd tells her to “suck on it” making her forget all the shit he did(once again)

and I was JUST thinking about him omg 😫😫 y’all have no idea how much I love toxic!armin. He does sum to meee.

cw: oral, spit play, fingers in the mouth, reader threatening armin bc it’s all he deserves

frustrated. the one word that came to mind when trying to express your emotions right now. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t articulate your words properly, let alone get your point across without becoming completely irate. That’s what happened when you dealt with the likes of armin artlert. A known playboy with a reputation that preceded him. But with all the information you heard from the streets about him dogging all his women, being a cheater and a dumbass, you decided to give him a chance. Under the premise that his ass was gone the second he acted the fool. Unfortunately, things weren’t so simple with him! You could never truly be free of him..whether physically from the fact that no man fucked you quite like he did. Or mentally because he’d blow your phone up and play mind games until you let him back in for a thousandth chance.

“Please…please give me one good reason why I shouldn’t bust you in your shit, Armin. Please give me one.”

“I already told you, angel. I don’t even know that girl…she probably has me confused with somebody else..”

another Saturday night wasted down the drain..where you could put partying with your girls, finding a man worth of a damn, it was being spent pacing the floor of your two bedroom apartment you shared together. Arguing and fussing about a potential side piece as he sat on the edge of the bed. Sprawled out shirtless with nothing but black sweats on. Shaggy blonde hair going everywhere and tattoos on his chest and forearm still vibrant from the lotion he applied after he showered. Despite how fine your man was, you were solely focused on ripping him apart. Pissed off that he had yet again embarrassed you. “So that bitch asked you to suck your dick and she got you confused with somebody else? Nah nigga, the only thing you and her both got..is me fucked up.”

ramping and raving like a mad woman as you poked his forehead with your long acrylics. Folded arms and puffed out jaws like a petulant child and all he could do was stare in adoration for how cute you were. He didn’t want to admit it but the sight of you putting him in his place really got Armin stirred up. Hearing you cuss him for everything he was worth..clapping your hands..he loved seeing you in this aggressive state. Even if it wasn’t healthy. “Playing in my motherfuckin’ face…I’m not one of these other bitches, Armin.” He heard you, loud and crystal clear but he couldn’t be vexed to care. He never did. He never gave a damn about his actions affected you or anyone else. But he’d pretend, so as long as he could get his own gratification..

“I know, baby..they’re nothing like you. That’s why I told you, I don’t even know her ass. You know how many of them are jealous of you? Seriously, who wouldn’t be? Look at you..”

his half assed attempt of mulling over the situation was bombing, until he resorted to desperate measures that is..leaning back, he’d open his legs a bit more and suck his teeth, flashing you a shit eating smirk. One that would undeniably get him his way! Extending an arm out, he’d grasp for your hand and pull you towards him, intertwining those fingers together and placing kisses on the knuckles.

“..shit, I mean…if I’m being honest, you got me thinking about you right now, baby. They can’t do any of the things you can. Can’t love me the way you can, not as beautiful as you are…and damn sure can’t fuck on me the way you do.”

you knew he was only trying to soften you up. Stop you from being angry and as always, that smooth charm and slick demeanor done its job. As he had your eyes adverted to his face, tugging you down gently to your knees for a kiss, his other hand was working to free his erection from its confines. Stiff and seeping with precum, he wanted nothing more than shove it between those pretty, gloss stained lips. But first, he’d shove two fingers between them, letting you suck them and coo to you as he always done. Swiping a finger across your cheek, he knew you were exactly where he wanted you. “Go ahead, baby..suck on it.”

prompting as he guided your head down into his lap. In a matter of seconds, he had those fingers wrapped around his shaft and that tip stuck in your mouth, sloppily sucking on it as you always did. Drumming up strings of saliva in the process and making you drool all over him.

“There you go…good girl. Only you can make me feel like this. Do what these bitches can’t.”

#cherry’s asks 🍒 #prompt games #fic prompt #oh these are too fun #aot x black reader #armin x black reader #black fem reader #armin headcanons #snk armin #armin smut #armin imagine #toxic armin #black reader smut #armin arlert #armin artlert #armin snk #aot armin #armin arlert x black reader #arminarlert #armin x y/n #aot headcanons #aot smut #aot imagines #black reader #armin aot #attack on titan armin #cw smut #cw spit #cw sex mention #suggestive cw

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

Tom Riddle x reader - Craving

Warning:...SMUT, dirty talk, blowjobs, Tom Riddle. i don't even KNOW where this came from im in a mood rn, i think im ovulating lol.

=

She had been wanting to do this for months now, craving it really, needing it, desperate to taste it on her tongue and indulge herself on it. She had day dreamed about it for days and weeks on end, getting distracted in class just from the thought of it, her mouth filling with drool as she thought about having it in her mouth.

...

oh? what was she talking about? her boyfriends dick of course~! as of late she had been-unnecessarily horney and needy for her boyfriend Tom Riddle's dick. She had been having bloody dreams about it, just imagining it in her mouth, heavy and hot on her tongue, the taste of his pre-cum and cum running over her taste buds and going down her throat and chin, gagging on his length and choking on his girth.

Yeah. she was kinda obsessed right now, ovulation usually made her go crazy too.

It didn't help that her boyfriend was soooo fucking pretty too, just-so pretty-and his cock was just as pretty. it was about six inches long with a sweet girth and a slight curve, and with his body hygiene, he tasted damn good, like his milk and honey body wash.

"You-want to what?" Tom asked, his voice a bit higher pitched than usual, dumbfounded by her request. He was sitting at his desk in his private dorm room-perks of being head boy-he had been just doing his homework when his girlfriend, (y/n), came in; asking a question he never thought he would hear.

"Can i suck your dick?" (y/n) repeated, her face straight, but her eyes sparkling. "i just-really wanna." she had no real reason, she had just been really wanting to just have his dick in her mouth and just have it there.

"Why?" Tom asked, blinking rapidly, his usual cool demeanor out the window with (y/n)'s 'odd' request. he didn't even know where it came from, why did she want to suck his dick at such a random time? he was in the middle of doing his work. (y/n) shrugged and Tom sighed, running his hand over his face, (y/n)'s eyes trailing after his hands, which were another favorite part of his body.

"Are you ovulating or something? you only get this way during that time," Tom asked and (y/n) shrugged. Probably. Tom sighed again, running his hands through his hair, biting the inside of his lips. he couldn't find a reason in his brain to tell her no, other than him doing homework, but he knew he could get that done whenever, he was smart.

And honestly, the thought of her just being so needy and wanting to suck his dick was making him get hard. "Okay, fine," Tom groaned, jumping when he opened his eyes and saw (y/n) was already crawling between his legs under the desk. "merlin (y/n), that needy eh?" Tom muttered, brushing his fingers against her cheek, his lashes fluttering as she unbuckled his belt and pulled his dick out-her hand soft against his sensitive skin.

"Easy there," Tom muttered, his eyes fluttering shut and his head falling back as his mouth opened, a low groan escaping him as (y/n) started licking him, once, twice, three times, and then she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock. His chest was already rising and falling at a rapid pace. Fuck he loved her.

He lurched forward with a choked gasp as she took him into her warm and hot mouth, her tongue on the underside of his cock and the tip of his cock entering her throat. "God-" Tom choked out, his thighs clenching as (y/n) hummed with his cock in her mouth, slowly bobbing her head up and down, savoring his taste and loving the weight of his cock on her tongue.

He leaned his elbow on his desk, gasping for breath as (y/n) moved her head back and forth, slow and even, just tasting him and feeling him, spit already coating his cock and starting to drip down her chin. "(y/n) fuck," Tom groaned, looking down at her, his cheeks flushing. he cradled her cheek, leaning back as she pushed at his chest, watching her with half lidded eyes as she just kept sucking and licking his cock-seemingly just to do it.

He clutches onto his chair, panting into the air as his brain starts to fuzz over, his hands trembling as she holds him in her throat for a second, swallowing around him and he chokes, his hips jolting, thrusting into her mouth-making her gag. "fuck-sorry," Tom groaned, but pauses when (y/n) looks up at him, whimpering, her mouth slacking around his cock, her eyes begging him to do that again.

oh fuck.

Tom moaned and leaned forward, arching over his desk as his hands find her hair and he begins fucking her throat, panting heavily and moaning her name as his cock goes in and out of her mouth and throat, spit and pre-cum dribbling down onto the floor. "fuck fuck fuck, you and your perfect fucking mouth, shit." Tom groans, falling back against his chair again, still thrusting into his girlfriends mouth who was taking him wonderfully well, just letting him fuck her throat.

"Such a good girl, so fucking good for me, my little cock slut-fuck-i bet you would do this forever if you could, just sucking on my cock, deep in your throat," Tom moans and (y/n)'s eyes flutter from his dirty talk, her free hand going into her underwear, starting to finger herself and Tom sees that for a split second and feels like going mad. "Getting off on this aren't you? just sucking my cock makes you all wet and needy doesn't it? Fuuuck, your mouth is so warm and wet my girl, shit (y/n) I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum right down your throat, fill that fucking stomach with my cum, get you all full from both ends."

Tom's hips jolted again and his thighs clenched, his head falling back and his eyes closing as he held (y/n)'s face, thrusting into her mouth again and again, "Fuck fuck FUCK!" Tom comes hard, his breath leaving his chest as he comes down (y/n)'s throat. (y/n) whimpers, swallowing everything he had to give her, her fingers pressing against her soaked clit as she comes with him.

she's panting wetly when he pulls her head off him, her vision fuzzy and spit all over her chin as Tom looks down at her, his expression just as fucked as her. "Merlin i love it when you're like this," he whispers, choking as (y/n) takes him in her mouth again. "(Y/N)!"

-end-

im in a spicy mood, like lord i need to be dicked down rn

#tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #smut fic #hi yes i did have too much fun writing this

[q1ngqve]

deepthroating dr ratio just to make that man stop yapping >:3

he can be so annoying at times! yapping on and on about his philosophy and things like that :( you love it when he’s talking something he’s passionate about though, but it can get a lot when he doesn’t give you enough attention!

he’d raise an eyebrow when you tie your hair into a ponytail, getting on your knees on the process, but that doesn’t stop him from yapping ☝🏻🤓ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི he only stutters when you palm him through his pants and stroke him as you pull his dick out

his voice would start to shake when your soft lips wrap around his tip, tongue pressing the bottom of it comfortably! and he’d ask “what’re you doing?” knowing full well you’re about to deep throat him 🤭

finally stops yapping when you put his whole dick into your mouth, throat constricting as you try to swallow and breathe properly! he’d wrap his hands around your hair, stroking your head softly, trying so hard not to push your head all the way down

his legs almost gives out when you do deep throat him, your nose touching his pelvis! he’d groan when you look up at him with wet eyelashes, fluttering them so prettily when his fingers reach down to wipe your tears away!!!!!

cums so much down your throat, you’re almost choking on it by the time he’s done <3 continues yapping afterwards though

#hehe #this was so fun to write #i just know he’d be trying not make too much noise #but when you play with his balls… #that man is suddenly so vocal #🀥 lan’s writings! #☃︎ anons! #hsr #honkai star rail #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #veritas ratio #hsr smut #dr ratio smut #veritas ratio smut

[adnauseum11]

Northern Attitude Ch 9

“Me too.” She breathed and he looked up at her, her pulse already fluttering under his palm. She shifted above him, moving her legs to bring her hips into better alignment with his. Mac kissed him as her weight settled onto him, making him groan into her mouth, tugging on the base of her braid again. His hands were slow, making a meal out of getting her free from her cardigan and tracing the shape of her body under her shirt. She broke away from his mouth with a gasp when he tweaked her nipples, making her back arch. Logan used the opportunity to tug her shirt over her head, throwing it without looking. She looked down at his intense face, his palms cupping her breasts, her bra tugged low. His eyes were locked on her dusky pink nipples, inches from his face. She watched as his eyes fluttered closed and his mouth wrapped around one tightened bud, her palm instantly cupping the back of his head to keep him close. He groaned against her skin, the sound and vibration making her nerve endings sing. He leaned back, releasing her hard nipple with a pop and undid her bra, tugging the useless fabric from her body and throwing it in the same vague direction as the rest of her clothes. She bit her lip as his eyes stayed locked on her tits and tugged on his hair hard enough to finally break his concentration, the pale ring of blue nearly obliterated by the dilated black of his pupils.

Northern Attitude (48110 words) by Ad_nauseum Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Original Female Character, Jane Foster/Thor, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Laura Barton Characters: Logan (X-Men), James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Hank McCoy, Bruce Banner, Charles Xavier, Kurt Wagner, Pepper Potts, Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), Matt Murdock, Nick Fury Additional Tags: no beta we die like women, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Needs Therapy, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Avengers Compound, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Captain America Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Protective Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Frenemies Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson is not here for your shit, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Alcoholic OFC, Depression, Suicide Attempt, Canada Olympic Women's Hockey Team Ensemble, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Genius Tony Stark, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Sassy Steve Rogers, Logan is a Softie (X-Men), Protective Logan (X-Men), martial arts master Logan, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut, Original Character(s), X-Men References, Alternate Universe - X-Men Fusion, SHIP DARCY LEWIS WITH ALL THE THINGS, Therapist Sam Wilson, I'll Probably Keep Adding Tags, Medical Doctor Hank McCoy, Mental Health Issues, Logan has forgotten more about combat than you'll ever know, Logan in love is a dangerous man, hello unstoppable force, meet immovable object, Hockey, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Spy Natasha Romanov, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs Series: Part 3 of The Labyrinth Song Summary: As former Olympian Mackenzie Drouin tries to navigate life as a new amputee, her freshly minted boyfriend is reluctantly drawn into another intrigue. With the Winter Solider needing intervention before being cleared for field work again, the Avengers are down not one, but multiple members. They turn to Logan for help in filling the gap - only to have things go even further off the rails when worlds collide.

#a03 fic #a03 writer #sometimes i write things #smutty things #escapism #fictional men are better #i have lost control of my life #this stupid fic kept me alive in 2023 #logan howlett #am I doing tagging right? #dialogue is my favourite #smut #smut is fun too #wolverine

[freemansgirl]

idk if ur requests are open but i just thought of something…birthday sex with Amber but it’s the reader’s bday🫣

OH MY GOD OFC YES??? i been thinking abt bday sex amber fic FOREVER cause my bday will come up soon!! ur truly a godsend <33 bless ur heart for this

nasty (birthday sex fic <3)

pairing: amber freeman x fem reader

words: 2.1k

warnings: teasing amber, amber grabs ur ass, oral sex, top! dom!amber, reader gets her boobs sucked, g!p! amber (amber has a dick, if u don’t like it, just scroll), begging, praise, degradation, cunnalingus

today was a very special day for you, it was your birthday. it was spent in a way that you couldn’t even imagine your birthday being spent. after coming back from a lovely date with your girlfriend amber, she had thrown a surprise birthday party for you, inviting your mutual friends. the birthday party was so fun and had so many memories you knew you could cherish in a couple of years. the fact that everyone showed up, sung you happy birthday, gave you hugs, gifts, and wishes, and danced with you was making you feel emotional and happy.

you started to take the knife when you saw that your (favorite cake flavor) cake was already put on the table for you, but you were stopped by footsteps approaching from behind you and a firm touch on the left side of your hips. this threw a look of confusion on your face for a split second but you knew that touchy feeling approach anywhere, causing you to let out a loving sigh. “came to come join me for a slice of cake, i see?” you questioned amber playfully, looking to see the girl you loved. amber was assisting you in slicing the cake when she lightly ran her pale hands over yours when the knife touched the portion you desired. she finished helping you cutting the slice that you want, before speaking to you again.

“yes, but not the cake that you’re thinking about.” she seductively whispered in your ear so only the two of you could hear it while her free hand was sneaking its way down to your ass. you let out the smallest, cutest gasp while a flustered expression crept its way right onto your face at the sex joke amber had made towards you. she had produced a ton of sex jokes tonight just to make you laugh and tease you, but she most definitely meant those "jokes" as well. the whole night she couldn’t stop checking you out in the birthday dress you decided to wear tonight, you were just so damn attractive to her and she was so lucky to even have someone like you. the way your dress fitted your curves so nicely, it was like it was meant for you. the fact that she bought the dress made it even better because she’s making you look so good, so good that it was so hard for her to keep her eyes off of you. the perfume that she bought you had her in a trance too, each whiff that she got of you drew her into your aroma more.

the black pantyhose that you were wearing right underneath your dress was so attractive to her. then, the sexy slit in your lacy dress showing off just how beautiful your thighs are. the bust showing off how nice your breasts are sitting in the dress, it was drawing so much attention to how amazing they looked. lastly, your ass just looked so great and that just was getting her so weak in the knees like damn, she couldn’t even believe the sight that she was looking at. her dark brown eyes were scanning over you from across the room the whole time you had to get up to go walk or when you went to speak with one of your mutual friends.

when she had you sit on her lap in the circle around the couch of the living room with your friend group, she could feel herself getting hard underneath her dress. everytime she stared at you, her eyes were looking you down from head to toe, they were growing with lust and hunger. there were so many instances that she whispered sweet nothings in your ear, while drawing circles on your thighs, absolutely no shame. she loved seeing your cute expressions and gasps, it was making her more turned on by the second. she found it really hard to focus on the conversation with the friend group or whenever you spoke to her because her head was clouded with so much sexual thoughts.

you could feel just how horny she was because of the amount of sex “jokes” she made, the constant whispering in your ear when you were by yourself, her stares, and her touches (esp when she would press her dick from behind you). honestly, you could feel yourself getting in the mood and you felt like your body had something to say to her. the way your panties were soaking from all the sexual feelings you were experiencing made you want to say something, and at this point, you just needed some one-on-one time with her. you were ready for everyone to go home so you guys can just have sex, just like she was so ready to get you out of the dress.

you turned to your girlfriend, staring into her eyes with the most neediest yet horniest eyes because you are tired of waiting on the sex and you know she was too. you didn’t even have to say anything to her, your look was already enough. “what do you want, baby?” she said, caressing your chin looking at you, clearly playing dumb because she knows that you want her. “can we just get to it, baby? enough with the sex jokes, i want you. can you get everyone to bounce?” you replied, looking at all of your friends laughing and having a really good time then back to amber.

“you don’t have to even ask, babe. i’ll meet you upstairs in my room for tonight’s final present. throw on something cute.” she smiled, pulling your chin closer to her so she can land a soft, gentle kiss on your cheek. after that, the two of you parted ways for a couple of minutes. you begin to go upstairs to open the door to amber’s room, there was a bunch of pretty red rose petals spread out on the bed and candle lights filling up the room. the scent of lavender flowing freely, setting that romantic, sexy mood. an adorable yet sexy lace, satin pajama set in your favorite color was waiting for you on the bed.

amber is such a wonderful girlfriend, she got you a birthday dress, perfume, your birthstone ring, now this? oh, she is truly the best. you begin to strip out of everything that you were currently wearing to put on the satin pajama set she gave you. at the sound of the door creaking, you could see the black haired girl standing at the doorframe making her way right over to you. “you look perfect, just how i imagined you to be in this set.”

“thank you, amber. couldn’t have looked perfect without you.” you speak as you smiled so happily at the words, appreciating the compliments she threw out. you realizing that it was the two of you, no one else could ruin the moment. you wrapped your arms around her neck, bringing her into a kiss while her body pushed you right into the bed covers, the soft, comfortable sheets taking you in.

she started to leave small, sweet kisses right above your collarbone then pulled your top right above your head; revealing your bare breasts right on display. “you have the most perfect set of breasts ever. you’re amazing, gorgeous.” she praised, before her tongue started to leave swirls around your nipples. she began to suck on them gentle but also roughly, loving all of the cute noises you made for her while she rubbed her hands on your body. amber pulled back off of your nipples to quickly take off her dress, so now it was just her bra and her boxers. she approached you to slip off your shorts and underwear, both clothing items hitting the carpet on the ground of the room. amber carefully started to remove her boxers, exposing her hard dick.

she started to rub the tip of her dick up and down your slick, wet folds of your vagina, causing her skin to feel moist from the texture of your lips. when she realized how wet you are, she had the biggest smirk on her face as she began to laugh. she loved when she saw you this wet because it made her feel like you knew you belonged to her. “i haven’t even fucked you yet, and you’re already this wet? i always knew you were a slut for my dick, but not THIS much of one….” she snickered, before gesturing her tip right into your hole causing your gasp sound like a moan slightly, pushing her back slightly which causing her to stop to look at you. there was an irritated look on her face, while she grabbed both of your wrists above your head so you can’t touch her.

“stop whining, you wanted this. you’re the one who wanted me to kick our friends out because your whore ass wanted birthday dick.” amber reprimanded you while firmly grasping your wrist with one hand and tightening her hold on the right side of your waist with the other. the tight grip she had on you could make you wake up the next day with a bruise from tonight. “so if you don’t want birthday sex, fine, it’s your loss. if you do… then beg for it, before i change my mind.” your girlfriend's hold on your wrist has grown even tighter as her dark smile and sly eye twinkle with mischief.

“i’m sorry, please, please, please! fuck me, baby!” you start pleading with her, hoping that she will just fuck you and end the conversation. it’s not fair of her to be such a tease towards you from the restaurant date to the party just for you to not get dicked down. she was definitely getting off to this, pleased with what you were saying to her. when she stuck her dick right inside of your vagina, the beginning thrust was slow and very sensual when she put it inside of you. the two of you let out some groans from this. your bodies were definitely touching now, her figure was hovering right over yours as she stared at you with a lot of sexual excitement. as each of you made noises as amber moved in and out with her thrusts, she began to take her sweet time with you.

the feeling of amber’s touches felt incredibly amazing as her pink lips started to leave little trails of kisses all over your body, from your collarbone to your breasts. she started to shower you in compliments because she loved seeing how well you were starting to take her. “you look so pretty, taking my dick so nicely like my good girl instead of a whore.” she breathed out, grabbing your hips onto her dick, each thrust feeling like a slam. you start to moan a lot from the pleasure that she was giving you, everything was just perfect. “faster, baby… please.” you let out a shaky pant, wanting your girlfriend to go even faster than the speed she was already going at. the black haired girl stopped kisses all of your body to just look at you so she can speak. “your wish is my command, birthday girl.” she smiled at you, now her dick started to move even faster inside of you, the speed was now starting to stimulate you.

“now, tell me, before i pull out to let you cum, remind me who’s my beautiful birthday girl?” she instructed, her hand now taking her hands off of your wrists, allowing you to touch her now. you take both of your hands and place them side by side on her face, about to speak to her. “me, all yours, always yours!” you exclaim, your moans getting louder and louder which leads amber to pull out so you can start to release from the orgasm. amber is also pretty close her own self, cumming right on your pussy, adding to the orgasm you just had.

now, she began to lean down to your vagina that had cum decorated all over it. she took both of your legs and spread then wide open, her head getting buried inside of the your legs. as she grabbed your trembling legs from the orgasm you just had, she began to eat you out. the flavor of both of your cum combined got her going. “you taste so sweet, baby…. i could you eat you out all night like this.”

you were moaning so much from all of the constant licks against your clit. you ran a hand in her hair, soothing her and pulling her into your pussy some more. then, amber realized that everything was gone and you seemed pretty clean. she pulled away, satisfied with everything that just happened, she enjoyed you and the sex (ofc). the sex was so good that she would treat you to aftercare soon, but right now, she just wanted to lay with her favorite birthday girl in the world.

she pulled you into her chest, wrapping her arms right around you, her left hand rubbing over your hand soothingly.

“happy birthday, princess. eating you out was the sweetest thing i had tonight.”

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY AYANNA <333 #usually don’t do requests bc i get nervous w the idea of them but this was too fun to ignore soooo #amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman smut #scream #scream 5 #scream x you

[nanaslutt]

working on a multi fic rn….. how did i make gojo’s part ALONE almost 2k words….

no more than 800 words per person i said……… im such a liar this always happens

#SIGHHHH #i’m having too much fun #gojo smut #jjk smut

[itsagrimm]

Niche König headcanons

SFW

He hates going shopping but he loves a good bargain for groceries. You will find him planning a weeks meals, cutting out coupons and doing serious research by flickering through advertisements & flyers at the kitchen table. He is also a hardcore Aldi and Lidl fan.

The only time König has cursed outside a battle situation was when Soap tried to convince him toast is bread in the mess hall.

König knows the rules for Fußball but does not particularly care much about it. However, he does care about how it's called. (It's Fußball so football, Not Soccer!)

At home his go to anti-anxiety-measures are going on hikes and visiting the climbing gym. Also, he owns one of those colourful outdoor raincoats because he got those for the hikes but definitely wears them for any other too many occasions. It tends to look slight off so he looks like a lost tourist with it.

As a kid he went to the library a lot to get new fantasy books. As an adult he does not have the time for that anymore but he still likes fantasy stories. So he listens to audiobooks bc the gear for that fits better into his duffle bag than a bunch of books.

Has opinions about Vienna. If you ask him about it, it will trigger a surprising tirade about the austrian capital and some numbered quartiers. However if someone says something negative about Vienna he will firmly defend Vienna as the bestest of best cities ever.

Contrary to popular believe he does not think too much about his height. He grew up in Austria and surrounded by fairly tall people. Also while he is exceptionally tall, he is not much taller than most people he interacts with on a regular. But he does struggle with his strength and is insecure about the space he takes up in a social sense.

Massiv metal fan. Yes, he had longer hair as a teen for head banging purposes in his bedroom, plastered with posters from his fav bands.

NSFW

König kind of does not know how to use his body outside of the familiar battle movements. It's awkward at the beginning. He is like a deer caught in headlights. And he needs instructions, explanations and feedback for what he does, otherwise he feels kind of lost.

Is not very experienced. Obviously.

Once he does learn how you like it, he draws immense joy and pride from seeing you squirming and moaning. It fills his heart with a calm he rarely experiences. He did this. He made you cum. And he has a hard time enjoying himself and cuming before he took care of you at least once. He also might evolve into a pleasure dom one day.

That man is curious but also shy. Get ready for online shopping a bunch of sex toys to try out.

Speaking of online orders. He needs the extra large condoms without latex, which he orders as well bc he would have a hard time dealing with the cashier at the check out. The poor man does not only have anxiety but also a latex allergy and a huge dick.

The hood stays on.

König gives off bi vibes but is confused by it. It will take him a long time to figure that out.

He is kinky but does not know how to phrase a lot of it or ask for certain things. Watching porn together to show what he likes is one of the ways he tries to articulate his desires without actually saying it.

Absolutely into getting pegged. Absolutely not into giving someone anal. He does not want to hurt his partner.

Likes his partner on top of him. That way he can touch them better and caress their skin. Also really into holding onto their hips. He likes how his hands look like there.

Into getting scratched, bitten and having his hair pulled. After overcoming that surprising realisation he might discover that he very much likes doing that to his partner as well.

Not down for one nightstands. The whole sex and emotions situation is hard for him. So, having one set partner gives him a feeling of stability. And while from the outside that might come off as a bit traditional he is not opposed to opening up the relationship once he worked through his own bisexuality.

#i am having too much fun torturing this man #könig listens to rammstein 'ohne dich' is peak romance for him #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig smut

[lunicho]

Thoughts on massage therapist hubby yeonjun who sees you’re tense and agitated after a long day and just has to offer his services. He starts out super helpful but your little moans here and there have him removing your clothes one by one under the guise of wanting to “help”. In the end he just ends up fucking you just how u like it to take the stress away :) -🧚‍♀️

oh i have to answer this rn ik i haven't been on here answering asks much but!!! i actually went to massage school and although i didn't finish this is just.... yum..

thinking abt him having a love for deep tissue work bc he loves to see you ball your fists and whine and get all out of breath,, loves the way you sigh in such a relieved way when the pain subsides and all that's left is your body feeling so much more refreshed than before. loves helping his baby feel better,, anyways 😁

he'd start off slow and helpful, trying to set up the massage table as quietly as he can in the middle of your living room, just in case you have a headache. he'd slide the coffee table over near the massage table and he'd set up some oils and some candles, your favorite ones to be exact. he'd worked at his studio this day so everything was left out since he hadn't put it back quite yet. he's naturally a flirt so it's normal for him to grab your arm, trailing his hand down to yours, interlocking your fingers as he brings you over to the massage table, relaxing music playing from the tv. he'd have already asked you to change into something tight as it's always recommended for ease during clothed massages. sometimes he'll straight up ask you to get on his table naked but his intentions are truly pure at first with this one. you always look so good in your sports bra and leggings.

he'd start by warming up your body, gently loosening you up. his hands would move skillfully amongst your body. he'd quietly remind you to breathe, even guiding your breaths with his own when he hears that you're still a little tense from your day. his hands easily locate your areas of tension, swiftly getting rid of them. he'd start off on your back, the whimpers that fall from you going straight to his cock. he can't help it!! the curve of your ass looks so good in his favorite leggings and your little whines don't help much either :(

when he has you flip over you can't help but take notice of his bulge in his sweats, but you don't initiate anything. his hands would continue over your body, adding more oil into his hands so he can slick his hands over your arms and chest, his fingertips slightly dipping into your bra. you'd moan on purpose when he does this, knowing he won't be able to resist for long. he'd have you pull the band of your leggings down below your belly button as well, hands dipping into your waistband once again. he's losing it a bit this time, his hand hesitating to go further into your pants. he'd mutter to you about how you should remove your pants so he can put oil on your legs and really help you feel relaxed and ofc you agree!! but with your pants gone it's not long before he's rubbing you over your panties, one hand squeezing your breasts. he loves when you're laid out for him, you're like his own little anatomy chart.

he'd play with your pussy, the oil on his hands providing some slick for him to easily glide all over you. he'd move down your legs, continuing to massage you more in between. i could soo see him standing at the head of the table, fucking into your throat while he plays with your clit 😵‍💫😵‍💫. but just fucking your throat won't do,, he'd wanna fuck you on the table, moving down to the floor later on, getting onto the couch after that even!! he'll go as much as you want, as long as he can relieve your stress 😵‍💫

#⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ bunny chats <3 #🧚‍♀️ anon #hint hint #i love deep tissue work #ITS SO FUN GUYS #im very much projecting in this bc i was very good at finding points and tension areas so yeonjun is too! #this reminds of how bad i wanna write masseuse smuts #ughhshdjd #tomorrow x together smut #tomorrow x together imagines #tomorrow x together smut imagines #tomorrow x together x reader #tomorrow x together hard hours #tomorrow x together hard thoughts #txt smut #txt imagines #txt smut imagines #txt x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #tomorrow x together yeonjun smut #tomorrow x together yeonjun imagines #tomorrow x together yeonjun smut imagines #txt yeonjun smut #txt yeonjun imagines #txt yeonjun smut imagines

[ughgoaway]

19 with Matty as like a comfort thing 🥺

Maybe girlie is feeling a little insecure that day

love this!! I answered this prompt earlier as a teacher au thing, but I liked the idea of girlie being insecure so I wrote it again but a little diff! hope you enjoy :)

19- character A holding character B’s hands as character B eats them out, fingers intertwined.

18+ pls!! includes female receiving oral and body insecurity/general insecurity. 1.4k-ish

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

You pull at your skin in the mirror, the reflection staring back at you wasn't one you recognised. Your eyes look sunken and tired, and your skin is dull when it used to be full of life.

You could stand for hours critiquing every inch of you, what part of you is too small, too big, too harsh or too soft. And you did. After every shower, you stood in front of the mirror, assessing every inch of yourself.

Matty hated it. of course, he did. You were perfect in his eyes, beyond perfect. but he couldn't stop you.

It happened like clockwork every few weeks. However, today, it seemed especially bad. The usual 10-minute assessment dragged on, becoming longer and longer with every tug and prod. He could almost hear your inner voice screaming about how you're not good enough for him and that he deserved better.

Eventually, you came to bed. Flopping on the mattress and immediately trying to burrow yourself under the blanket. but before you can, Matty grips the blanket and pulls it from your hands, forcing you to flip over and face him.

“I know what you're doing,” he says bluntly, eyeing you suspiciously.

“M’okay. I'm just tired. Long week.” you say softly, throwing matty a half-hearted smile.

You're lying. You both know that for a fact, but you pray that just this once Matty lets it go.

He doesn't, of course.

“Baby, I can see right through you. Standing in the mirror for half an hour and mumbling to yourself angrily doesn't exactly scream “im okay”” he pouts teasingly at you, and you can't help but giggle at his pufferfish face (a term you coined for that exact look early on in your relationship)

You sigh heavily before answering, “Yeah, im just - I don't even know. Feeling shitty I guess. Ugly, insecure, unloveable. You know, all the usual Friday night emotions” You try to lighten the mood with a joke, but everyone who knows you knows you joking is a sign something is really bothering you.

“You are none of those things, my love. Let me prove it to you, yeah?” Matty asks, moving to hover over your body.

You can already feel an ache between your thighs at the sight of your boyfriend above you, but you still can't shake how you're feeling.

“You don't have to, matty. I know I don't look great right now. Don't feel pressured or anything, I'm sure I'll just sleep it off.” 

“Never feel pressured with you, I just want to show you how beautiful you are to me, will you let me?” Matty looks down at you with soft eyes, and you can't pretend you don't want him between your legs for a second longer, giving him an assured nod.

“Gotta use your words for me, baby,” Matty lightly demands, dropping his mouth to your neck and pressing kisses to your skin.

“Mmm yes. Make me feel good, please,” you beg, gasping as Matty nips your neck playfully, soothing each patch of skin with his tongue.

“Thats my girl. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart.” Matty whispers in your ear, pulling back with a Cheshire-cat-like grin that has you blushing.

You try to turn away from him, the weight of his eye contact feeling like too much. But Matty places a hand on your jaw, dragging your face back to his and connecting your eyes once more.

Matty holds eye contact as he drops between your thighs, peppering them with kisses and hushed compliments as he moves to where you need him most. His fingers fall between your legs, parting your thighs and spreading you open for him.

“so pretty” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your clit that rips a gasp from your chest. you can already feel your nerves thrumming with desire.

“Please Matty just- I can't take any teasing, please,” you beg, closing your eyes and trying to catch your breath.

“Anything you want, princess, take my hand, yeah?” Matty’s hand moves from between your legs up to grab your own, lightly gripping your hand to ground you and remind you that he wants you. He wants to make you feel good.

You smile softly down at him, looking into his eyes and memorising the exact way he looks right now, to live in your head for as long as it can.

With his hand in yours, he starts mouthing your cunt, moaning and licking your slick like he's devouring a sweet peach, juices running down his chin as he consumes you.

He’s practically making out with your cunt, burrowing himself between your legs and doing everything he can to make you feel good. Every few minutes you can feel a mumbled complement vibrate against you.

“Tastes so good angel.”

“So beautiful for me.”

“Good girl.”

Every vibration of his words against you pulls you closer to the edge. You can feel your skin growing pinker as matty continues between your thighs, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. Matty is grinding against the mattress below him at the sight of you, but you're too lost in the haze to notice anything right now.

You roll your hips needily against Matty's face, and he immediately understands your silent pleading, moving faster against you and making the fire inside you grow even brighter.

Matty flicks his eyes up to you as he works his mouth over you, slick covering his cheeks as slips a finger inside you, smirking at the broken moan that falls from your lips. Every time his nose brushes your clit you feel a bolt of lightning strike you, your pulse quickens with every touch.

the tension in your gut is growing, and you squeeze mattys hand to warn him, whimpering “close” as best you can between the needy moans and whines.

Matty pulls away briefly, “Cum whenever you need to princess, so good for me.” As soon as he finishes he's diving back between your thighs with a new fervour, fucking you with his tongue and purposefully using his nose to stimulate your clit.

The mix of his tongue and his finger burrowed inside you is dizzying. The air is thickening around you with each passing second, and the only noises filling the room are a mix of your lewd groans and the sticky noises of matty worshipping you.

The neverending streams of compliments and his unrelenting pace against you soon push you to breaking point, coming undone with a whimpered “thank you” and shaking thighs.

Your legs grip around mattys head like a vice, keeping him buried between your legs. And he honestly couldn't be happier with that arrangement, squeezing your hand as you cum to remind you why he's doing this, to remind you how absolutely obsessed he is with every part of you.

Eventually, your legs loosen as the aftershocks stop rattling through your body. The goosebumps over your skin begin to fade, and you start falling back to earth.

Matty quickly moves from between your legs, hovering over you before leaning forward and desperately kissing you, pressing his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself. You groan at the taste, moving your hands to grip Matty's hair, grabbing his curls and pulling him closer against you.

You only break apart when your need for oxygen demands it, Matty panting above you with an overjoyed smile on his face. You smirk back at him, planning to repay him in the best way you know how.

But as you move your hand to grip his boxers, you feel the distinct lack of a boner and the presence of a damp spot sitting on the front of them. Your eyes flick down and study the dark grey patch on his underwear. You scrunch your face in confusion for a few seconds until it dawns on you.

He came. Untouched. Just from eating you out.

Matty sees the realisation on your face and groans, dropping down and burrowing his face in your neck. You can feel his cheeks growing hot as you giggle at his reaction, matty brings his mouth up to your cheek, pressing a kiss to it before he speaks.

“You're just really hot when you cum, im kind of obsessed with it. and you.” he whispers, pulling back to look at you with a cheesy grin. His eyes trace over your face, memorising every aspect of how you look.

Even if one day you become a stranger, if this all ends, he wants to remember exactly how you look right now.

He wants to remember the flush on your cheeks, the way the tip of your nose scrunches when you giggle, and the distinct glow of love in your eyes. 

“Love you,” you whisper, leaning forward until you are a few centimetres from Matty's lips.

“I love you too” he whispers back, surging forward and catching your lips in a kiss he hopes conveys every bit of love that his words couldn't.

#sappy shit #i love me some lovey dovey smut #the filthy stuff is fun too tho hehehe #but yes they are very in love!!! #(idk about this... sorry if it disappoints anon </3) #anon! #matty healy smut