I Love The Concept Of Past Lovers!sirius X Reader Godmother! Reader And The Just Reunited An Fluff And

THE ENDING LEGIT CRUSHED ME😭😭

Dark!Milf!Wanda x Babysitter!Reader

Dark!Milf!Wanda x Babysitter!reader 

TW: 18+, dub-con/non-con, infidelity, wlw smut, f+f oral (both recieving), fingering, light face sitting, tribbing, mommy kink, some angst and fluff towards the end, alcohol use, car accident. If I’ve forgotten one lmk so I can correct it!

Words: 2.6k

AN: So this is a lot shorter than the rest of my chapters/one-shots because I’m trying to focus more on putting content out than just adhd hoarding it lmao. If you wanna be on any marvel, wlw marvel, or any of my posts PLEASE send an ask to my page so I can keep better track of it. Anyway thx let’s be gay in the club

You are responsible for your own media consumption. By continuing reading you confirm you are 18+, I do not give permission to have any of my work reposted or translated on any other platform even if you give credit. 

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aw

Flustered

AN: I haven't read the books yet, so this is based on movie Lesso. Also, it's been a very long time since I've written and posted anything but this idea popped into my head and I had to do it. There's not enough Lesso x Reader fics out there

“Oh, please, you do not fluster me!”

The smirk on Lesso’s face said she clearly thought otherwise.

The infuriating Dean of Evil was currently leaning towards you, hands on your desk as she practically leered down at you.

“I beg to differ, kitten.” The words came from her mouth in what was practically a purr, making you struggle to fight back a blush. Despite your constant insistence on her dropping the nickname, she always used it when she wanted to rile you up.

You quietly cleared your throat, straightening a few papers before standing, taking them over to your cabinet, hoping putting them away would give you time to calm down. “Beg all you want, but that won’t change anything,” you said. “You couldn’t fluster me if you tried.”

The second you’d said it, you realized your grave mistake- Lesso wasn’t one to back down on a challenge, no matter how unintentional. “No one can,” you quickly added as you sorted the papers into their proper folders, praying that the less direct challenge would at least lessen her temptation to put it to the test.

“Oh, really? And what makes you so immune?” Lesso asked, disbelief evident in her voice.

“I just haven’t met anyone who makes me feel anything,” you lied. ‘Not until I met you,’ you thought. But in reality, it was more like women who liked other women were such a rarity that only men had hit on you, and they made you feel absolutely nothing.

That was, until becoming the school nurse at the School for Good and Evil led to you meeting Lady Lesso. Right away, everything about her had made you flustered, as much as you tried to hide it. Sometimes, you were successful. Other times, not so much. And it seemed those times amused Lesso enough to seek you out simply to torment you, laughing when you tried desperately to deny how she actually made you feel. Today was no different.

“Sure you haven’t, kitten!” Lesso scoffed. “And Dovey is secretly evil.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let her hear you say that,” you muttered. Papers sorted and put away, you held back a sigh as you closed the cabinet and turned, fingers nervously fidgeting with each other. “What makes you so certain you get me flustered?”

Before you could react, Lesso pounced.

In your frozen shock, she easily grabbed your wrists in one hand, moving your body to the side just slightly to press against the wall, pinning your hands above your head. Her body pressed against yours, keeping it from you squirming enough to get away. Not that you had it in you to even think about getting away as Lesso stared down at you.

Her body was surprisingly warm and solid against yours, hand gripping your wrists just tight enough that it felt good without being too tight. You swallowed, taking a shaky breath in as you tried to form a coherent thought, only to inhale some kind of spicy, herbal aroma that seemed to emanate from Lesso. Her eyes were dark and it felt like they were staring into your soul. After a second they trailed down to your lips, then down to your chest (you cursed yourself for wearing a lower-cut dress today), and then back up.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” Lesso asked, reaching her other hand up to gently grip your chin, her sharp nails digging into your skin just slightly. She learned in close, lips just millimeters away from your ear, voice lowering to a soft, seductive whisper. “Cat got your tongue?”

You couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping you, eyes fluttering slightly. You nearly moaned when she let out a light chuckle at your reaction, eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned back.

“Such a reaction just from my voice?” Lesso asked. “Makes me wonder what pretty sounds my hands could get from you.”

A whimper escaped you and your eyes darted away, unable to meet her intense gaze. “I…s-shut up,” you mumbled.

Lesso let out another laugh. “Oh, but you’re so adorable when you’re flustered, kitten.” She watched you for another moment before finally pulling back, letting your hands fall gently while your body suddenly felt quite chilly without her pressed against you. Without missing a beat, Lesso turned and grabbed her cane from where it leant against her desk, heading towards your door.

“Wha-you’re just leaving?” you exclaimed. “After all that?”

“As much as I enjoy getting a reaction out of you, I do have work to get back to,” Lesso said simply, heels clicking on the floor.

“You can’t just- that’s so…so-” you can’t even get the words out, glaring after.

“I know,” Lesso said, pausing at the door to look back at you with a satisfied smirk. “I’m so evil.”

cute omg

My Godson Our Godson

Sirius x Reader

Summary: After y/n’s older brother James and his wife Lily are murdered. Sirius is sentenced to Azkaban for giving their location Voldemort. Y/N is left to raise Harry, alone. Now that Sirius is free, he wants to be part of Harry’s life…and to set the record straight with y/n. Who he’s still madly in love with.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, betrayal, lovers to enemies to lovers, and some good old smut.

Words: 2.8k+

Masterlist

You’re nineteen years old. Just turned, to be precise, when your older brother James and his wife Lily are killed. Murdered by Lord Voldemort, and Sirius Black was the one to betray them.

The first night is the worst. Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall arrive at your doorstep. Delivering the news along with your nephew, Harry. Who is little more than a year old.

“Lily was pregnant.” You say, not because it changes anything. But because someone should know, someone besides you and…that traitor who got them killed. So you don’t have to carry it around like an ugly secret.

“I’m very sorry y/n.” McGonagall rests a hand on your shoulder. “Seeing as both sets of grandparents are deceased, you are next of kin, along with Lily’s sister Petunia. But seeing as you are also named godmother-“

“I’ll take him.” You say firmly. “I’ll take care of Harry.”

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Princess Treatment

Tara Carpenter x gn!reader

Request: can u write about tara being clingy to the reader. it's like tara wont let go of reader, she follows wherever the reader goes

Words: 1k

Warnings(?): some talks of Tara’s past trauma, honestly it’s just fluff idk what to tell you

“Tara, the love of my life, you can’t come with me to work”

“Why not?” Tara groans, wrapping her arms around your waist in a grip that rivaled a gorilla

“Baby, they hired me. Not me and my girlfriend”

“Being a barista surely can’t be that difficult!“ The younger Carpenter only holds onto you even tighter

“How about this. You can sit in the cafe and watch me work while you finish your studying” You offer, pressing a kiss to her forehead while holding her face in your hands

“Well I can’t study while I’m busy staring at you, babe”

“Would you rather me leave you here?”

“Studying at a coffee shop it is” Tara beams, and you can’t help but roll your eyes with a smile on your face

Work was normal. Nothing out of the ordinary other than Tara not being able to keep her eyes off you, which, you send her multiple glares to do her homework. Honestly, you didn’t really mind how clingy Tara was. You knew what the smaller Carpenter has been through

Coming to the conclusion your girlfriend refused to ever leave your side was due to past trauma, you quickly decided there was no harm in making Tara feel better. “Happy wife, happy life” as they say

So Tara stayed. She stayed until her eyes were heavy. Tara stayed with you until the shop was about to close, and your boss gave you a questioning look and a raised eyebrow. You shrug in response, moving to wake up your sleepy girlfriend

Tara’s eyes flutter open, and you can feel your heart melt at how fucking adorable she is. You could never be able to understand how anyone would willingly try to put her in harms way. A single look from her sent your heart spiraling

A small yawn comes from the brunette’s mouth, making her eyes crinkle just the way you liked

“C’mon, Tar, it’s time to go home” You whisper, trying your best to not wake her too much. You’ve already packed Tara’s school things in her bag by the time she’s awake

Tara does her little grabby hands towards you, and you can hear your coworkers snort at your little interaction. You give them the finger before putting on Tara’s backpack, and also somehow putting on Tara. Her legs wrap around your waist while her arms around your neck. Being close to you was one of Tara’s favorite things

Even in her sleepy and blissed out state the younger Carpenter smiles into your shoulder, inhaling your scent. Tara always associated you with safety. You were there when she cried, smiled, cried some more, and now you were here carrying her to your car like the angel she was. Princess treatment, if you will

But you were okay with being Tara’s knight in shining armor, princess charming, or whatever the hell she wanted. But right now Tara wanted to sleep in your arms. Her brain threatened sleep, but she didn’t want you to be carrying her around like a rag doll. Like she wasn’t already one to begin with

Tara couldn’t recall the night if she tried to. First she was studying with half-lidded eyes, the next she was being carried to your car, and now here she was tucked under your blanket with one of your clean shirts on her body and nothing else but underwear

The bathroom light was turned on in the hallway, and Tara wanted nothing more than to be in your arms again. She missed you quite a lot in her sleep

Against her body’s will, Tara trudged to the bathroom. The wooden floors were cold under her feet, but they were a small price to pay to see you. She could hear your electric toothbrush spin as she neared

Some of the wooden planks squeaked as Tara walked, so you weren’t surprised when she opened up the rest of the door and wrapped her arms around your torso. You spit out your toothpaste, and quickly rinsed out your mouth to start your skincare

“You weren’t in bed, (Y/n/n)…” The younger Carpenter mumbles sleepily

“I’m sorry, Tar. I had to finish up cleaning around the house and my schoolwork”

“It s’okay, I just missed you” Tara yawns

“How about you go back to bed? I’ll be done in a few minutes”

“Mmm… I wanna stay here with you.”

“You’re tired, love. Go to sleep for me?” You try to convince her with a kiss, but it only seems to drive her closer into your back. You sigh in defeat, and Tara knows she’s won when you focus on your skincare again

Tara sways behind you a little, holding onto your stomach like you’ll fly away if she doesn’t. Tara wants to keep you all to herself. She was greedy like that

Tara thinks a few minutes pass? She’s too tired to keep track. Your girlfriend may as well be asleep when you’re finished in the bathroom. You turn off the light, still in Tara’s embrace, and turn around so she’s no longer facing your back

“Wish you were in bed, yet?” You whisper

“No, cause you’re here…” Your girlfriend mumbles again. You’d probably never be able to get over how cute she could be without knowing it. Unfortunately, Tara doesn’t show any signs of moving and you know exactly what she wants

Hooking your arms under her knees, you easily hoist you girlfriend up and onto the bathroom counter. Tara gives you a quick kiss before she nuzzles into the crook of your neck as you carry her for the second time tonight

If Tara made you carry her until the ends of the earth, then so be it. Sore arms were worth it if you got to see your girlfriend smile. You gently place Tara on the bed, yet her arms still wrap around your neck like a tiny koala. A very tiny koala

You have to manually remove her hands from your neck, and you can hear her huff in frustration. You’re quick to make it better by cuddling her, your front to her back. Tara falls asleep again with you on her mind

HOOLLLYYYYYYY FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK (quite literally)

chapter index:

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 part one | word count: 18.7k warnings: homophobic sentiments, angst, religious guilty / trauma, mentions of something like conversion therapy.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 part two | word count: 22.7k warnings: smut, minors dni, very emotional scenes, just more religious guilt-tripping

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 epilogue | word count: 5k no warnings

stranded | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you get stranded in the middle of a blizzard. joel comes to your rescue. you share a bed for warmth. things escalate from there...

warnings/tags: 18+ content, MDNI!, smutttttt yurrrr (vaginal fingering, unprotected piv sex, dubious consent, lil bit of somnophilia, joel is packinggg), no outbreak!joel, modern au, implied age gap, soft!joel, pet names (peach, baby, darlin', sweet girl, sweetheart), lil bit of joel being jelly, cuddling to keep the cold at bay, fluff, NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 7.6k (idk what the fuck happened)

“Fuck!” 

You press down hard on the gas pedal, grimacing when your engine revs but the car doesn’t move an inch.

Your tires skid uselessly over the snow and your headlights reflect into a white wall of nothing—the snowfall so thick you can’t see anything in front of or around you, as if you’re trapped in a snow globe. The road is practically gone from existence. 

Your wipers try their best. 

The only thing you can hear is the wind whistling and the staticky sound of Carrie Underwood’s ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’ going in and out on the radio.

Yeah, you wish he would right about now. 

“Fuuuck,” you whine again, eyes stinging with unshed tears. You hit your wheel in frustration, dropping your forehead onto the horn. It honks pityingly. 

Of course, the one time you were actually going out, you had forgotten to check the weather. 

You’re probably going to die out here on this back road through the woods. There’s no one around, not that you can tell, and you’re low on gas. You were going to fill up once you got out of the woods and back into civilization, but the blizzard had other plans.

Your stomach rumbles, crying out for the dinner you had skipped in hopes of having a hearty, post-sex meal with the hook-up you are—or were—on the way to see. Though, that’s certainly not happening, and the snacks you usually had stuffed into the glovebox are gone, your sister having stolen them last week after you dropped her off at school.

(Darn that growing goober!) 

You don’t have anything that might prove useful in this situation besides the long, slim heels on your pumps (which could be used in defense), and the thin peacoat wrapped around your shoulders. You check your phone to see if you can call emergency services, but of course, it has zero bars. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whimper, pressing the heel of your palm to your watering eyes. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” you say to yourself, picking your head up and rubbing away the tears in your eyes. You take deep breaths and put the car into park. “You’ll be fine.”

The sudden sound of a knock on your window startles you so bad you yelp, jumping in place as ice cold terror rises up your spine. 

You can hardly see who had knocked, only their gray silhouette in the white blizzard.

The stranger knocks again. 

“You alright in there?” The shadow asks, a hint of a Texan accent curling their vowels. Shit. It’s a man. 

You slowly grab your shoe from your foot, holding it so the heel faces the window, and snow blows into your face as you carefully roll it down an inch or two for precaution, because who knows if it’s a fucking cannibal-axe-murderer who preys on unsuspecting women stranded in the snow. Maybe he does this every year—maybe this is his prime harvesting place and time. 

Your eyes are wide as you peer through the opening warily, heel at the ready. 

He’s close enough now that you can make out a prominent scowl, hard brown eyes, salt and pepper hair…

…wait a minute. You’d recognize that glower anywhere.

“Joel?”

Your lungs suddenly remember how to work again, and you inhale on a shaky breath. The hand holding your shoe drops to your thigh in relief.

His brown eyes narrow. “Peach…? The hell are you doin’ out here?” He asks, and Jesus you forgot about that stupid nickname he gave you. It sends butterflies loose in your stomach. “It’s a goddamn blizzard.” 

You scowl in exasperation, though, at his obvious observation. “Yeah, I think I know that, Joel. What are you doing here?”

“I heard a honk, figured someone needed help.” He looks you up and down, his gaze lingering on the circles of mascara around your eyes. “Guess I’m right.”

You straighten in your seat, the surge of gratitude at his presence is overshadowed by the need to look self sufficient and capable, because you are. You’ve been paying your rent all on your own, buying your own groceries, making your own meals. You’re a grown ass woman! So…

“Actually, I don’t need your help, Joel. I meant to go into this snowbank,” you lie.

“Oh really?” He asks, dubious, immediately picking up on it. 

“Yes, and I'm going to get out of it. Just watch!" 

You’re making a fool of yourself, but at this point, you really don’t want to be rescued by him if only because of the bruise to your ego and definitely not because of other extenuating circumstances. You feel a boost of confidence when Joel actually steps back from the car when you start it up again, like he really believes you, but then when you shift the gear into reverse and try to make it out of the snow bank, nothing happens.

Joel steps up again, leans an arm on the frame of your car, and taps your window once more. “C’mon. Let’s go.” 

God, this is so embarrassing!

“Fine.” You roll up the window and turn off the car. Joel tugs the car door open as far as it can go and offers a gloved hand to help you out. You wobble a bit when you step out in your heels, grateful that Joel is there to steady you. Though, the feeling sours a bit when he huffs in disbelief at your shoes. 

You send him a glare, “I had plans for tonight, okay?”

“In the middle of a blizzard?” He deadpans.

“It wasn’t that bad when I first started driving.”

“Riiiight,” he drawls, “Well, I’m sorry to say, peach, but you ain’t driving in this mess anymore. You can stay with me tonight.” He says, closing the car door behind you. 

Stay? With him? 

“Joel, I couldn’t bother you with—“

“I wouldn’t offer if it was a bother.”

Joel’s as stubborn as a bull, more so than Ellie. And she is stubborn. You don’t argue, because it’s fruitless to argue with a brick wall like him. And, faced with freezing to death out here or staying in a well-insulated building, choosing the latter is obviously the right thing to do.

“Okay,” you relent and point to your trunk. “I have a bag back there.”

He raises a brow. “Heels and a bag…What kind of plans were we talkin’ about here?”

A hook up, Joel, you mentally drawl. Because…that’s exactly why you were out. 

Like hell you’ll tell Joel that, though, he’d disapprove. He’s always been the protective type. You’ve known him since your junior year in college, after your families practically merged. But you’ve never seen Joel as another dad. He’s always been…something else to you.

“A trip to Nunya.” You supply instead of the truth, crossing your arms over your chest to try and conserve some heat. 

“Nunya?” Joel’s brows furrow. 

“Yeah. Nunya business, Joel.” You give him a sardonic smile. 

He shakes his head and sends you a look you’re quite familiar with, the one that makes you feel inches smaller. And ten degrees hotter. 

Joel sighs in exasperation and wordlessly wrenches the trunk open. He slings your bag over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing.

(It weighs a lot. You’d know, you shoved five different erotica books in there, just in case your date failed to make you orgasm.)

(Though thinking about Joel probably would’ve been enough.) 

You lock your vehicle with a bemused glance. “What are we gonna do about my car?” 

“I’ll tow it out tomorrow,” Joel says. “Roads are a fuckin’ mess right now.”

You trudge behind Joel to his quaint cottage sleeping cozily between tall pine trees and chubby evergreens. The porch light is on, and the windows glow a comforting orange. Puffs of smoke drift up from the chimney. It looks warm and inviting, like straight out of a Christmas movie. 

You’re impressed at how close you managed to strand yourself to his house. Maybe Jesus really did take the wheel. 

Joel kicks the snow off his boots on his front porch, then opens the door, gesturing for you to enter first. 

When you breach the doorway with Joel at your heels, warmth settles over your cold-bitten cheeks along with an alluring aroma of meat and tomato and spices that hits you in a wave. You’ve never seen Joel cook anything other than Chef Boyardee Beefaroni, or burgers on Tommy’s rusting grill before. Could…someone else be here? 

“Joel,” you whisper, your hand landing on his arm. He sets your bag down in the foyer with a grunt and shrugs out of his coat. 

“What?”

You point to the kitchen. “Is someone here? Am I intruding?”

Joel glances at the kitchen then back at you with a confused expression that evens out into a self-satisfied smirk when he realizes what you’re asking.

“What, you think I’ve got a date over?” 

Embarrassment creeps through you. “Who else could be cooking!”

He looks offended, though there’s a twitch to his lip, as if he’s trying not to laugh. “I’m perfectly capable.”

“Joel,” you say, unimpressed.

“I'm alone, peach,” he reassures, hanging his coat up. “That’s my cookin’ you’re smellin’.”

Your eyes widen, genuine surprise written on your features, relief lingering behind it as you take your own coat off. “Is it edible though?” 

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Joel starts toward the kitchen and you trail behind him. As you follow, you take in his aggressively Texan decor and furniture. Paintings of cowboys and horses and mountains are hung artfully on cozy, beige walls. The Eagles’ discography drifts merrily in the air from an old record player. There’s a guitar stationed in practically every corner. It’s all so very Joel, though the random space ornamentals and butterfly drawings sprinkled about are so very Ellie and Sarah. It makes you smile. 

“Where are the girls?” You ask, because usually those little stinkers would be stationed at the dining room table, bickering over the answer to a ridiculously difficult math problem.

“At Dina’s,” he answers, taking off his gloves. “They wanted to play in the snow.”

Oh. So you’re here alone with him. Anxiety prickles at the edges of your mind, sinking in your stomach.

“I guess I was the only one that didn’t know about the blizzard, then.” 

“You must be livin’ under a rock to not know about it.”

You grumble in protest, but your grievances disintegrate on your tongue as you enter the kitchen and near the simmering pot. You breathe in the aroma, the smell so powerful it's almost like you’re actually tasting it. 

You look over your shoulder at him. “Is this chili?”

He nods. “Want some?”

“Hell yes.”

He comes up beside you to open a cabinet. “Go ‘head make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll bring it out to you.” Your mouth dries at the sliver of skin that peeks out beneath his flannel as he reaches up.

You force yourself to turn around. “Wow. Such a gentleman, didn’t realize you were capable,” you say, your saccharine sweet tone doing well to mask how flustered you feel. You can breathe easier the second you exit the kitchen and enter the living room. 

His voice follows you. “A simple ‘thank you’ ‘stead'a this attitude would do you some good, y'know?"

"I know," you sing-song, grinning as you settle yourself down onto his couch, grabbing a blanket from a basket on the way. A fire crackles in the hearth and you study the flames with fascination as warmth spreads across your skin. You tug the blanket around you, pulling it up to your chin. 

Joel emerges a minute later and your gaze darts from the fire to the bowl he holds out to you. “Here.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you say emphatically, accepting the bowl and cradling it in your hands. 

He smiles, “There we go. Guess you do have some manners.”

You give him a half-bow. Joel just smiles in that familiar way, like you’re just so ridiculous he can’t believe it. It makes your stomach curl giddily. 

Having rolled up the sleeves of his flannel to his elbows, Joel’s forearms are on display, muscles flexing as he tosses another log into the hearth, and you drop your gaze to your chili, as to not get caught staring. He sits down in the armchair adjacent to you with his own bowl.

You blow on the steaming chili before taking a bite, an involuntary moan releasing from you the moment it hits your tongue—paprika, peppers, tomato, cumin. It warms your stomach pleasantly. Who knew Joel could cook so well?

“This is so good,” you mumble around your bite. 

He swallows his own chili down, pupils large as he watches you. “Edible enough for ya?”

You nod enthusiastically, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, unconvinced, but he’s smiling at you again, and you can’t help but return it. 

Comfortable silence lapses between the both of you as you eat your meals. Joel finishes first, of course, setting his bowl on the coffee table and leaning into his chair with a satisfied groan. He throws an arm over the back, spreading his legs. You watch him while he watches the fire, heat licking through you.

Eventually, after you slow down, you speak again.

“Thank you, Joel, seriously, for letting me stay.”

His eyes find yours and he nods. “‘Course, peach. Wouldn’t’ve let you freeze out there.” 

You nod and glance around, taking in his cabin. A large, stone fireplace is set in the wall, a tree trunk coffee table stationed in the center of the living room, some handmade wood carvings of horses and other animals scattered about. There’s a drawing of himself sitting on the mantel, “To: Joel, From: Ellie” signed at the bottom. Your heart swells. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here,” you remark.

“I know,” Joel says. “You should come around more often. The girls miss you.”

Your smile turns shy and you feel a spike of bravery. “What about you? Do you miss me?” 

He takes a moment to answer, a veiny hand coming up to rub at his beard as he leans on the arm of the chair. Onyx eyes drag down your figure. “‘Course I do, darlin’” 

Heat pools hot and thick between your thighs at that look, and you’re about to press him about how much he really misses you when a buzzing in your pocket captures your attention. Your phone. Guess you have some bars now. 

marcus: where r u?

Oh right, the hookup!

you: blizzard blocked the roads. won’t make it tonight.

marcus: ok. 

You scoff at the lack of depth in his response. Not even a “stay safe out there”? Jesus. You settle into the couch with a frustrated sigh, head thumping against the cushions, eyes falling shut as exhaustion creeps into you. 

Boys always thinking with their dicks. Why do you even bother?

“What’s that about?” Joel asks. You peek an eye open at him. Firelight dances across his tan skin. He gestures to your phone. “That gotta do with the real reason for your trip tonight?” 

You rub your temple, “Yeah.”

He hums. "...Listen, I know it's none of my business but—“ 

"It was a hookup, Joel," you interrupt, already knowing where he was going with that. He tends to do that, beat around the bush so much until you’re desperate to just say it. More desperate than he was to know it. You’d rather just skip that whole process. 

"Oh,” his brows furrow.

"Yeah," you repeat dumbly, fiddling with the blanket.

"There, uh, ain't no shame in that, darlin'."

You quirk a skeptical brow, "I know."

"Alright," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you. Awkwardness settles between you.

"Things are just a bit dry," you supply, though you have no idea why you're still talking, or why you described yourself and the state of your love-life like that because Joel doesn't need to know that. Nobody needs to know that

But it captures his attention, because he's looking at you again, though this time annoyance is written on his features, along with something else you can’t name, his eyes practically black. Damnit, you knew he’d disapprove, even if he claims there’s no shame in it.

“And you went to some random boy for that?"

You straighten on the couch. "Who else am I supposed to go to, Joel? You?” Sarcasm drips from your words. 

What the hell is he implying?

His gaze jumps to the fire, the muscles in his jaw clenching, his fingers flexing on the arm of his chair. "Never mind I said anythin'."

Your arms cross defensively over your chest. "I don't need your judgment, Joel.”

"I ain't judgin'."

"Sure sounds like it."

He stands abruptly, running a hand through his peppered locks. "I'm not, I just—listen, it's gettin' late. You should sleep. I didn’t have time to get the girls’ room ready, do you want my bed?”

You shake your head, "Couch is perfectly fine, Joel. Thanks."

“You sure?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m a grown woman who can handle her decisions.” 

"I know that.” Frustration laces his words. He sighs, hand coming up to rest on his belt. “Just... let me know if you need anythin'."

“You got it.”

He turns the living room light off on the way to his bedroom down the hall. You don’t watch him leave. 

Once he's gone, you change into your pajamas and settle yourself on the couch beneath a blanket or two. The crackling of the fire and the howling wind outside lulls you to sleep faster than you expect. 

-----

“Fuck.”

The aggressive shivers that wrack your body are what wake you up in the middle of the night. 

Your blanket is wrapped tightly around you, but it’s a thin, furry thing. Nothing like the down comforter you have at home. The fire has also gone out in the hearth, low flames flickering in the ash.

You pull the blanket up to your chin, curling in on yourself as the cold permeates your skin. 

Aside from the chattering of your teeth and the squall outside, it’s eerily silent in the house. You realize, now, that the whooshes from the heating system you had grown accustomed to before are gone

Shit.

You reach for the lamp on the side table, pulling down on the chain. It doesn’t turn on.

“Shit.” 

You sit up, blanket wrapped around your waist. The power is out. The snow storm must’ve knocked out a power line. It’s too cold to stay out here with only your thin blanket and the clothes on your back. And Joel had said…

Let me know if you need anythin’.

You really don’t want to bother him, but the goose flesh rippling across your skin and the pathetic way your lips are quivering, along with the shudders that wrack your body as it attempts to maintain homeostasis are not something you can just sleep through.

You tightly wrap your blanket around your shoulders and tiptoe down the hall. You can see a warm light from Joel’s bedroom, the flicker of a flame on the cream walls.

You slowly push the door open but hesitate at the sight of Joel buried comfortably beneath his comforter. You don’t want to wake him… but his room is awfully toasty from the fire crackling away in his own hearth. And his bed looks absolutely heavenly. 

You steel yourself and pad to the side he sleeps on. 

“Joel?” You whisper. He doesn’t respond.

You lean over to gently push his shoulder. “Joel.”

“Mm—“ His brows furrow, and he scrunches further into the blankets, reminiscent of a cat curling its paws over its head when woken up.

You push his shoulder again, a bit harder this time. “Joel. Wake up.”

He swats at the air, as if your hand is a fly buzzing around his ear. “‘M awake,” he mumbles against the pillow. 

“Joel—the power went out. I’m freezing.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes still shut. He’s no doubt rolling the words around in his head, trying to make sense of them through a sleepy haze.  

Then, when he does, he wordlessly scoots back and reaches for the comforter. He lifts it, offering the space next to him to you.

“C’mere.” 

You splutter, taken off guard by the invitation. “What? Joel—“

“‘M not askin’, peach. C’mere.” The last word leaves his lips like a command, and you straighten reflexively, apprehension holding your limbs hostage as want curls dangerously low in your abdomen at his tone of voice. That should be enough warning to not climb into bed with him.

You debate telling him to get his ass up and give you another blanket along with a couple more logs in the hearth so you can avoid any kind of proximity between you (lest you feel those capital-f Feelings), but you can practically feel the heat radiating from the bed and his body beckoning you in. 

Oh fuck it.

You let loose a shaky breath and hesitantly slip beneath the covers, facing away from him. You stay glued to the edge of the bed, careful not to let any part of you touch him. Your legs curl into your chest for extra measure. Immediately, it’s so much better. So warm. So comfortable.

And it smells like Joel.

You inhale the earthy and spicy scent of him that lingers on the linen as your head sinks into the soft pillow, but your inhale chokes off as Joel’s strong arm snakes around your waist beneath the comforter, his large hand burning like a brand when it settles hot over your stomach.

He pulls you into him, the sheets swishing as he tucks you into his body. Your back slots against his warm, broad naked chest. His bare legs intertwine with yours, his pelvis almost flush against your ass, only covered by a thin pair of briefs. 

Holy shit. 

You can feel everything. 

“Joel?” You question, voice quivering at the sudden closeness. “What are you doing?”

“Keepin’ you warm,” he mumbles against the nape of your neck. 

You do feel warmer, though it might not be entirely because he’s holding you, but rather because of how he’s holding you. He’s curled around you, like a koala around a tree, thighs bracketing yours. 

You can feel his beard scraping at the nape of your neck, breaths puffing against your feverish skin. 

His thumb is rubbing softly along the pudge of your tummy, palm branding your skin, his fingers dipping innocently beneath the hem of your shorts. 

You can barely breathe, or even think, heartbeat stuttering as arousal pools liquid hot and heavy between your legs. Every unknowing twitch from Joel’s fingers makes it worse. Every touch of his calloused fingertips against your skin is pure agony. Every brush of your ass against his pelvis has you throbbing. You stare wide-eyed into the darkness, gaze roaming the pitch black, as if something out there could make you forget about the ever-growing desire you feel for Joel. 

You can’t sleep like this.

It seems like Joel can though, appearing to already be deep in slumber. He hasn’t moved in a few minutes, his exhales even and slow against you. 

You try to ignore the wetness between your legs, ignore the instinctual urge to roll your hips back against him. You should just go to sleep. But this ache you feel, pounding and deep and relentless…You have to do something about it, even with Joel holding you close.

He won’t mind…right?

But how are you supposed to touch yourself with Joel’s hand in the way? 

You could just move it. That’s the right thing to do, but it feels too good, so hot and heavy on you that you just don’t want to, and as a result, an idea so absolutely fucked worms its way into your mind, lust and desperation destroying any last semblance of rational thought. You could…

No. No. You can’t do that. He’s a human fucking being, not a hand shaped vibrator. 

But… you really want to, and he’s asleep so…he won’t even know…right?

You make up your mind and slowly curl your fingers around Joel’s deadweight palm, biting your lip in concentration and shame as you carefully urge his hand further into your shorts. After each nudge of his palm, you wait to see if Joel gives you any sign of him being awake. But he’s dead asleep. After a moment, you keep going. 

This is so fucked, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you finally feel his thick fingers brush over your clothed folds.

“Shit,” you whisper, breathlessly, holding back a whimper. You manipulate his hand so that his palm is resting large and warm over your aching clit, while his index and middle finger are placed heavily above your heat. 

And then, you really say fuck you to your morals. 

You give an experimental thrust of your hips into his palm, shuddering at the contact against your clit. Then you wait to see if Joel reacts, your head tilting a bit to look over your shoulder. But Joel hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a word. Good.

Confident he won’t wake, you rock your hips again and again, holding onto his hand with your own, pressing it down with each thrust of your hips to get that sweet contact. The heel of his palm bumps your aching clit with each thrust, and you bite back moans and whimpers well enough, but you can’t hide the deepening of your breaths as you climb closer and closer to your climax.

Everything else fades away as you just focus on that one goal. On crawling over the edge. You hardly feel the growing smirk pressed to the back of your neck, or the way Joel’s cock is now hard against your ass as you grind against his palm.

“F-fuck,” you huff, eyes tightly shut as you ground yourself in his presence behind you, the beat of his heart thudding against your spine, the rise and fall of his chest, the light, unconscious brush of his lips on your neck. Closure is on the horizon as you imagine him lifting up on his arm and leaning over to actually get you off, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he thrusts his fingers into your aching cunt. 

“Joel—“ you quietly moan. 

The moment his name slips from your lips, his hand suddenly pulls back, and you let out a frustrated groan (he can’t do that!), which quickly turns into a squeak of mortification (oh yes, he absolutely can!).

Because Joel is awake. 

He. Is. Awake.

And he knows what you were doing, his chest rumbling against your spine as he—is he fucking laughing at you?

“Needy girl, aren’t you, peach?”

Mortification ignites in your cheeks, nausea pooling in your stomach. “Joel, oh my god, I’m so sorry—“

His hand gravitates to your thigh, curling around it. He pulls it up, inserting his knee in between your legs and he griiiinds it into your clothed cunt. Your desperate apology is cut off by a reflexive wanton moan, your back arching as pleasure reverberates inside you.

“‘S okay, baby, I understand. So fuckin’ desperate you had to use me while I was sleepin’, huh? Didn’t get what you wanted earlier so now you’re searchin’ for somethin’ else, hm?”

His large hand finds your waist again, sliding down your stomach to inch beneath both your shorts and your panties now. You gasp as his fingertips find your clit easily.

“I’m just a ‘lil offended I wasn’t your first choice,” he chides, fingers slipping through your soaking folds. “But I like this much better than you findin’ some boy to get you off. You need’a be fucked by a man, darlin’. Ain’t that right?” 

His words send heat straight to your core, thighs clenching around his knee as he ruts it against you while simultaneously stimulating your clit with his fingers.

“Yes, Joel,” you moan. “Need you.” 

His teeth scrape against your throat when he growls, “Goddamn right you do.”

You can’t believe this is happening.

Joel slides his hand further into your panties, his middle finger curling in to sink into your soaked cunt. You choke on a gasp. 

“Who’s the guy?” He asks, randomly, while his finger rocks into you.

You can’t think as Joel inserts his ring finger alongside the other, stretching you so deliciously. “W-what?”

“The boy you were gonna see tonight. Who is he?” 

Who was it? Mark? Matt? And why does he care? You don’t know, you don’t care, only thoughts of Joel Joel Joel consume your waking being. 

“I—I don’t know, Joel. Please, oh my god.” 

He hums pityingly. “Poor thing can't even remember his name.” His other hand comes up to slide through your hair, gripping the locks at the nape of your neck. He tugs, and you melt. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget mine.” 

He doesn’t need to worry about that.

Joel moves his thumb to circle your clit as he thrusts his thick, long fingers up and into you, curling them to hit that spot that has your heartbeat dropping between your thighs, desperate and loud and begging for release. 

“Hhhoh— Joel!” 

“Tha’s right, baby. So goddamn wet. You’ve been dealin’ with this for awhile now, huh?”

You nod into the pillow on a broken moan as his fingers withdraw and sink into you at a steady pace, his thumb circling and circling and circling.

“Words, baby.”

You cry out, hands gripping the pillow. “Yes, yes. Joel. Been wanting this f’so long.”

“Should’a come to me first. Would’a helped you out a long time ago,” he drawls.

Yes you absolutely should have, based on how quickly you’re approaching your orgasm.

Your cries are so loud, but you don’t care, focusing only on your pleasure and the feel of Joel’s mouth on your throat. 

You’re finally getting what you want. And fuck, is it amazing.

Your eyes roll back as it all builds up inside you, Joel’s hand unrelenting as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re scorching, everything hot and intense, your stomach tightening, your legs stretching out as the pleasure builds and builds.

Fuck, you’re gonna cum—

It rips through you violently, eyes prickling with tears, your thighs clenching as your walls bare down repeatedly around Joel’s fingers, making him groan. 

“Good girl,” Joel murmurs, hand eventually inching out of you and your shorts to squeeze your thigh appreciatively as aftershocks run through you, thighs quaking and clit throbbing. “That’s what you needed, huh? S’it feel good, cummin’ all over my fingers?”

His fucking voice!

“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, sinking into the sheets, eyes drooping shut as pleasure lulls you to sleep. 

He tsks, “Wake up, darlin’ I ain’t done with you yet.”

His beard scrapes against your neck as he moves to your ear.

“It’s my turn to use you.”

Your eyes shoot open. Fuck. 

Joel pulls your panties down your legs as far as he can, and you squirm to wriggle them off of you.

He pulls away for a moment, but when he’s back, the bare, hot, thick length of him is pressed between your ass cheeks, and a full body shudder runs through you.

Holy shit, he’s big.

He grips your thigh again, but this time he throws it over his own. And then you feel it, the slick head of his cock as he guides it through your folds.

Oh fuck.

“You okay, peach?” He asks, laying a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Now you have tears in your eyes for an entirely different reason. His hand slides across your waist and up beneath the hem of your shirt, palming your breast. Your nipples tighten. 

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow down a lump of lava. “Y-yes, Joel.”

“Good. Wanna give you all of me, how’s that sound, darlin’?”

You will take whatever, anything you can get from Joel.

“Good, Joel. Yes, please, oh my god.”  

“There are those manners.”

A desperate whine slips from your lips as he directs the head of his cock into you, slowly and carefully, his hand running up and down your thigh in comforting strokes. God, he’s stretching you so much, hot and thick and pulsing inside you. It’s almost painful, but it’s a welcome pain.

“Jesus, Joel,” you moan when he stops to let you breathe, “You’re so big.”

“I ain’t even halfway in yet, darlin’.”

“W-what?” How is that even possible? 

“You can take it.” He says, sliding in some more and fuck you don’t have much of a choice. but you can, and you will because he feels too fucking good, and you’re ready for him to make you feel it into next week.

“Is…is it all the way in yet?” You ask, thoroughly stretched and filled. 

“Almost, sweet girl,” he breathes. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

That makes you clench down even more, and he releases a pained groan behind you. “Relax, darlin’, c’mon.”

You do your best and let yourself sink into the bed, taking deep breaths and concentrating on the crackling of the fire.

And then, he thrusts fully into you, filling you up completely, and your mind is right back to him, a soft cry slipping from your lips into the pillow.

 “There we go, tha’s it. Good job. Taking me so well,” he croons, stroking your side.

“F-fuck me, Joel, please move.”

He squeezes your ass in his large palm in retaliation to your command. “You use me, I use you, remember?”

But he listens anyway, likely desperate to move himself, because then he’s gripping your hip with a large hand and pulling back just to sheath himself fully into you once more, his cock head bumping against your cervix, and holy fucking shit.

“Joel!” You cry, and he leans over to kiss you, teeth biting at your plump lower lip as he thrusts into you again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

He rolls into you at a steady, bruising pace, and you’re practically boneless as you just take it. Cries and whimpers and moans spilling out of you like a gas leak as he mouths down your throat, sucking and biting and oh my god this is way better than just getting yourself off on his hand. 

Then Joel shifts, pushing at your side to press your stomach into the mattress. You whine as he pulls out of you to situate himself behind you. He grabs your hips with both hands and pulls them up and backwards, easing himself back into you until your ass meets his skin, then he rolls his hips, driving his cock deep from a brand new angle.

All you can do is sob into the pillow. 

He’s so fucking big, so fucking deep you can’t think of anything else besides him and his wonderful cock, or the filthy things he’s whispering into your shoulder blades.

His large hand plants itself on your spine, and your hands scramble for purchase on a pillow.

“Sweet girl, taking me so fuckin’ well,” he purrs. “You were desperate for this cock, huh? God, I wish you could see yourself. Split open on me like this. Your little boy toy wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this, ain’t that right?"

You shake your head. God, why did you even make that dick appointment in the first place?

You hadn’t even realized what being fucked by a “real man” meant until now.

Joel knows how to fucking deliver, you guess that’s why he’s so successful in his contracting business. He’s delivering you straight to that blessed release. 

You clench around the girth of him, the filthy sounds of your arousal echoing in his room along with the cracks and snaps from the fire burning steadily in the hearth.

If you couldn’t sleep before, you definitely will be able to after this because you’re mindless as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Joel, fuck—mmph—!” 

“Yeah, that’s right. Can’t say anythin’ but my name.”

His breathing has become more labored, desperate grunts escaping his lips as his cock twitches inside of you. He’s getting close, deep and gravely moans falling out of him as his thrusts become harder and more sporadic.

His hand sneaks around your front, spanning your entire stomach as he slides down to your soaking folds, his middle and ring finger finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and giving them a gentle tap before circling, using that same method from before that had you squirming.

You writhe on his length, legs falling out beneath you as your orgasm swells within you. 

“Please Joel,” you whimper into the pillow. 

“I’ve got you,” he promises. 

It’s there, filling your body, building and cresting and searing white-hot through your limbs. 

And then he thrusts a certain way, hitting that spot within you, and his fingers are circling and—

Yeah.

You fall boneless to the mattress as you come apart, your arousal coating Joel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your release, stroking your spine. Pleasure floods through your body as the tension releases, and tears freely fall as you cry into the pillow.

Because goddamn it!

How can something feel so good? 

And then Joel’s pulling out of you and letting loose a long, satisfied moan as he comes all over your back, hot stripes painting you. 

He collapses next to you, groaning something about his back.

And you can’t help but laugh, delirious and soft, and Joel’s laughing too, brown eyes sparkling. His calloused hand comes up, runs his thumb along your jaw, and he’s smiling at you, soft and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

“You alright, peach?”

“Ohhh yeah,” you giggle, sighing with contentment.

You’re gonna be feeling this for days, just like you wanted.

Joel’s lips brush against your forehead gently, and you’re too tired to acknowledge it, slumber pulling you under far too quickly. You think you can feel the gentle swipe of a wet washcloth on your back before you pass out.

-----

“Fuck…”

The bed is empty when you wake, and a spike of anxiety shoots through you as you sit up. A fire still crackles in the hearth, a fresh log dropped in the ash. On the night stand is a note, beneath it, one of Joel’s t-shirts, your jeans, and a pair of your underwear. 

Mortification climbs through you as you read:

Peach,

My bathroom’s on the left if you’d like to shower. I hope you don’t mind, I went through your bag to get you some panties  underwear. Lot of books in there. You sure like to read.

Oh god, he found your erotica stack. The covers are not misleading, either, he definitely knows what kind of books they are. You force yourself to keep reading through the humiliation.

I’m out picking up Sarah and Ellie, I’ll be home soon. There’s pancakes on the counter. We’ll tow your car when I get back.

Also–about last night…we don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. But, I want you to know that if you ever need something like that again, I’m here. And for anything else. I’m here. Always. 

See you soon. 

Warmth fills your body and you reread those last sentences over and over. 

Always. Does he really mean that? 

You check the alarm clock on his nightstand–it’s eleven fucking a.m. Holy shit, you haven’t slept that late in a long time. 

When you stand, an ache radiates through you, and memories of last night flit in your mind and along with them, a fresh new wave of arousal. You scramble for the shower.

You emerge fresh and clean twenty minutes later, smelling like Joel, having only his body wash and shampoo to use. Each inhale is practically torture, and the ache between your legs is just another reminder. Seeing yourself in his shirt makes it worse. You try and push it away.

You descend the steps, halting when you hear the sound of Ellie’s voice from the kitchen.

“And I was like, pew pew! And I got both of them out!”

Sarah’s scoff of disbelief follows. “Nuh-uh! You didn’t even hit me!”

You creep down the steps, smiling a bit at Ellie’s outcry of “Yes I fucking did!”, and then you hear it–Joel’s low laugh, the Texan drawl.

“You kiddos are gonna drive me crazy. Just eat your damn pancakes.”

“Why’d you make these in the first place? You don’t even like pancakes,” Sarah teases. 

“Uh…”

You decide you should probably help him out. “Hey girls.”

Three heads snap in your direction. The eyes of one skirting down your body, a blush creeping across his cheeks. The other two brighten in shock. 

“What are you doing here!” Ellie gasps. 

“We haven’t seen you in forever!” Sarah adds.

You enter the kitchen and come up behind them to pull them in for a hug, your arms hooking around their necks. You smush their cheeks against yours. Ellie grumbles, Sarah laughs.

“I know! I’ve missed you guys so much. I’m just super busy with being an adult and all that shit,” you say, letting them go so they can breathe. You round the island, grabbing a plate and stacking two pancakes on it.

“Well, stop being busy. We miss you,” Ellie says.

“If I could, I would.”

“Why are you wearing Dad’s shirt?” Sarah asks, eyes narrowing, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

“I–um–” the question catches you off guard, and you scramble for an excuse, eyes flicking to Joel desperately. He clears his throat and crosses his arms over his broad chest, now covered in yet another, dark flannel. How many does he own?

“Snowstorm stranded her here last night, and she didn’t have any clean clothes,” Joel says, definitively.

It’s not a lie at all, and yet, it feels like one.

Sarah and Ellie exchange a look that says, yeah fucking right. You shovel pancake into your mouth to try and cool down the blush in your cheeks. 

“Speakin’ of,” he continues, “I’ve got the tow dolly all hooked up so when you’re done, we can tow your car out.”

“Great. Thank you, Joel.”

His brown eyes flick between yours, his hand coming up to rest large and warm on your shoulder. “‘Course, sweetheart.” 

You finish your pancakes without any more embarrassing questions from the girls, thank God, and then you’re out in the snow wearing a pair of Joel’s boots stuffed with socks (they’re too big, but they’re better than heels) and bundled up in one of his coats, watching Joel tow your tiny car out of the snowbank.

It’s just as cold as yesterday, though the dreary sky has cleared into a baby blue, the sun bright and high above the clouds. The roads are clearer, the snow plows having come by not too long ago. 

You grimace as you hear your car groan and creak as Joel pulls it out of the snow, big puffs of it falling off the roof in clumps. Eventually, it’s on solid ground once more, and he tows it back toward his cabin. 

Back in the driveway, Joel hops out of his truck and double checks your car. He pats the roof of it when he deems it accetable. “All good to go, sweetheart.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you so much Joel, seriously.”

He nods, though he looks…nervous for some reason. “‘Course, darlin’. Glad I could help.”

You don’t really want to leave, but you’ve bothered him long enough, so you stroll to the driver's side and go to open it, but suddenly Joel’s hand comes down to keep it closed. You look up at him confused. 

His expression is hard, serious as he looks down at you. “Do you regret last night?”

Well. You were not expecting that. You thought that, maybe, it would just remain undiscussed. A blip. Something you both shared, but never spoke of again. You know your answer, though.

 “No. I don’t.”

“Good,” he says, eyes dark, “me either.”

He opens the door for you, pauses for a second then shuts it, voice desperate. “I just need to say this, before you go.”

You nod, encouraging him to go on.

He takes a deep breath, rakes a hand through his graying locks. Pinches the bridge of his nose, and shuts his eyes tight. When he opens them again, there's a hard determination in them. Your pulse quickens, your legs turn to jelly.

“I like you, peach,” he says. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me because of the whole single father thing. And, also because I’m me. But I just thought I’d tell you how I felt, because,” he huffs out a laugh, shakes his head, “I’m thinkin’ you might like me, too.”

Your hands are shaking, and not because of the cold. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket with how lucky you've been these past fifteen hours.

“I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, Joel," you confess. 

“Oh,” he says, breathless, and a smile pulls at his lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your own grin forming to match his. 

The breeze shakes the evergreens, drifting flakes of snow onto Joel’s graying hair. His nose is reddened by the biting cold, but his eyes are warm as he smiles down at you. 

“Not gonna lie to you sweetheart, I’m kind of glad you got stranded here.”

"Yeah, me too," you laugh, and then you pull him down to you, pressing your lips against his, smiling into the kiss.

This kiss is the exact opposite of the one he gave you last night. It’s careful, sweet, tentative. He reveres your mouth, rather than ravishes it. You’re both bundled in multiple layers, standing in the freezing cold rather than lying naked in a warm bed. 

And yet, it’s just as perfect, if not more.

Eventually Joel pulls back, hands heavy on your waist. He’s still grinning. His hands frame your face, his thumb running softly along your cheekbone. 

“Peach,” he says. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

im-

Smut request with 15, 80 and 106 with Bully/Jock!Wanda from the prompt list! I hope this is a okay request and feel free to not include a prompt etc.

For the past four months, you’ve been assigned to photograph Wanda Maximoff, a model in high demand for her sculpted face, her high cheekbones and bright green eyes, freckles that were soft as they spread across her delicate face. She was the ideal client, and you’d been working for her for several months.

But it had been no less than hell.

Wanda was a piece of work. She took every chance to belittle you, to insult your work and put herself above those who worked with her, but you, especially.

‘You consider yourself to be a professional?’ Wanda barked at you when you’d shown her the photos you took of her for a spring magazine issue. She got in your face and pointed at your work on the screen. ‘I look completely washed out and I have no presence in any of these pictures. You expect to be paid and to have me recommend you to other agencies?’

Not knowing quite what to say, you stayed silent and drilled holes into her skull. 

‘If you’re hoping to get anything from your privilege working with me, you’d better fix this shit,’ she demanded, pointing at the screen of your computer so hard the display warped into pixelated, abnormal colours under her finger. Wanda left the set, but not before pushing at your equipment and nearly having your tripod tumble down onto your keyboard. You stuck your hand out just in time to catch it.

In lesser words, Wanda Maximoff was a bitch. 

She was a woman who had peaked in college and had never truly grown out of her highschool-mean-girl act. Her pretty face was the only reason she’d ever gotten where she was now, and that thought soothed you when your blood boiled after spending twelve hours a day or more with her.

Tonight, it was only you and her in the studio as you photographed her for a large event she would be attending, so it was a very important shoot. You’d been going at it since before dinnertime, and it was now midnight. Everyone else had gone home, and unsurprisingly, Wanda let everyone go but you.

You yawn from behind your camera as you snap photos of her from different angles. 

“Sorry, is all of this boring you?” Wanda snaps as she looks down on you while you’re taking a photo of her from a lower angle. You take a picture in the middle of her scolding you with a scowl on her face and hold back a smirk at imagining releasing the photo without her knowledge.

“Frankly, yes,” you answer and stand up, flitting through the photos on your camera. “We’ve been at this for hours, Wanda. If I hadn’t gotten a good shot of you by now, there’s not going to be one.” You step off of the studio’s platform and walk to your equipment to look at the photos on your laptop.

Wanda trails after you, hot on your heels as she continues to shout insults at you. “No wonder why we’ve been here for so long. You’re a half-grade photographer who can’t work for shit,” she laughs. “There’s a reason why you’re failing at working with America’s top model, Y/N, and why you have to work late nights away from your shabby little studio apartment falling through, time and time again, to make someone like me look good on camera.”

You don’t know what, after months of listening to Wanda’s whining, finally made something snap deep within you, but before you knew what you were doing, you spun around and slapped the model across the face.

She stumbles back, gasping and raising a hand to her stinging cheek. She doesn’t shout at you, nor does she become angry, but instead her shoulders rise and fall shakily, her face shrouded by her hair. You step forward and take the bottom of her face in your hand, squeezing painfully.

“What?” you hiss, your face so close to her she can feel your warm breath on her nose. A sliver of humour flashes across your face. “Does that feel good?”

Wanda flushes immediately and tries to push you away, but you wrap your other arm around her waist and slap her again, stilling her body and making her look up at your face defiantly. Despite the way she breathed through her nose furiously, green eyes laced with rage as she looked at you, Wanda didn’t say a word.

You look down at her body, her low-cut dress and the angle at which you looked down at her exposing her breasts to you. She watches your eyes as they travel down her dress, and her breathing quickens. You step back from her and hook a finger around the neckline of her dress, exposing the bra she wore underneath.

“Take it off slowly,” you command.

Wanda’s body trembles with restrained anger, and something else you cannot place a finger on, but she listens and begins to strip in front of you. When she’s in nothing but her bra and panties, you tell her to take those off too. She argues, but you threaten to take your camera out and force her down onto the floor to take photos of her bare tits and spread them to every modelling agency. 

She unclips her bra and slips her panties off.

When she’s completely naked, you step forward and place a hand on her shoulder before shoving her down to the floor so she’s on her knees. Wanda yelps out but you cover her mouth with your hand and dig your fingernails into her cheeks. With your other hand, you unzip your jeans and pull your own panties down. “Open your mouth,” you say simply.

Wanda’s breathing is rapid now, shaky, but her cheeks are flushed and she can’t look away from your glistening core. Before she can wonder at what point you started getting wet, you take a bunch of her hair and force her face between your thighs. She tries to pull away at first, but you pull at her hair painfully. After crying out against your clit, Wanda gives in and darts her tongue out to run up your slit.

As you buck your pussy down onto her face, you take your camera from your desk while Wanda’s distracted. You lift the camera to your chest and angle it down to the model on her knees. Her hands are on your ass, pulling you against her face and moaning as she laps her tongue against your soaking cunt. 

When a bright flash flickers from on top of her, Wanda pulls away, her eyes wide and her lips parted in shock. She runs through her entire career in her mind, her life and her reputation. If the photo of her naked and on her knees, her face buried in her photographer’s pussy came out, everything would be ruined for her.

Needless to say, Wanda never snapped at you again, and never even dared to look you in the eye if you didn’t give her permission to.

Enemy [D.M.]

A/N: I get so much inspo from Dani and Nani tbh, but this is for @silverdelirium 🤍

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!virgin!reader

Words: 3.1k

Summary: kinda based on this. Enemy Draco fucking virgin reader, leaving her to slip into sub space.

Warnings: NSFW! (+16), virgin reader, dub con, daddy kink, vaginal sex, degradation, praise, oral (f receiving), sub space, choking, crying. Lmk if I missed anything.

The breath was knocked slightly out of you as your body bumped against the side of the tall figure walking in the opposite direction to you. A scowl decorated his face and an annoyed grunt left his lips.

“Watch where you’re going, y/l/n,” he growled, stopping in his tracks to turn towards you.

“Oh, Malfoy, didn’t see you there,” you smirked, angling your head up to look at him as he stepped closer.

“You better watch yourself.”

Your smirk only grew, your bodies so close your chests were practically touching.

“What're you gonna do, huh? Tell your father I bumped into you,” you poked, playing with fire. You knew you’d struck something by the way his eyes blazed and nostrils flared.

A small smirk twitched on his lips, “y/l/n, I’d advise you to shut that little mouth of yours.”

The electricity buzzed all around you, the silence bouncing on the walls of the empty corridor as you stared into his grey stormy eyes.

“Make me,” you whispered smugly.

Draco closed his eyes, shaking his head, “that’s it.”

Before you could process what was happening, Draco had your arm in his grasp hauling you with him. You were pushed into a dusty broom cupboard, one abandoned by Filch many years ago.

Draco shut the door firmly behind him, pushing your body against the dusty wall, pressing himself up against you.

“What're you doing?” you asked, voice strained as you were pressed against the wall.

“Teaching a slutty little brat a lesson.”

You gasped as Draco’s hand snaked around your body, grasping your throat with his large hand, squeezing just enough for it to be felt.

He used his free hand to flip up your skirt, landing a harsh smack right on the smooth flesh.

“Ow, Malfoy!” you tried turning your head, but he only squeezed your throat tighter.

“Shut your mouth, stupid brat…- and you’ll address me as daddy, you got that?”

You tried straining, but to no avail.

“I said, you got that?” he growled right by your ear, pinching your thigh.

“Yes,” you breathed out shakily.

“Yes, what?”

You shut your eyes, “yes, daddy.”

Draco let out a pleased hum, moving your lace panties to the side and running a finger through your folds without warning.

“Such a fucking slut, all wet from being pressed against a wall,” he chuckled sadistically.

Nerves ran through your body and mind, your mouth shut quiet as you listened to the zip of Draco’s school trousers and the clinking of his belt. You let out another gasp as you felt something run through your folds once more before prodding at your entrance.

The nerves clouded your mind and your body tensed right as he pushed into you in one swift motion.

“Ow, Daddy,” you whimpered, knuckles turning white as they balled against the wall.

“Aww, can your slutty little cunt not handle it?” he cooed mockingly.

He thrust his hips against yours, fast deep strokes that hit spots within you, you didn’t know existed.

“Not so smart are you now,” Draco smirked, pulling your head against his shoulder as he kept rutting into you.

You shook your head, the pain bleeding into pleasure and a buzz ringing through your mind.

Draco just laughed, squeezing your throat.

“It hasn’t even been ten minutes and you’re already fucked dumb, dirty little slut.”

You could only moan in response, mouth open and slack as he kept moving his hips against your bottom.

His free hand moved over the front of your body, landing inside your panties; his finger found your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive nub. You jumped at the friction, a whimper tore from your throat and your cunt squeezed around Draco’s cock.

“Daddy, feels weird in my tummy,” you whined, Draco’s fingers speeding up on your clit.

“Such a greedy fucking slut…- cum around my cock then,” Draco grunted, voice strained as he neared his release.

Your legs shook and your body stiffened as you tumbled over the edge, pushed by Draco’s hard thrusts into you. Your knees buckled, but his grip on you kept you up against him, your chest pushed into the wall.

“Can’t even stand by yourself, ‘s fucking pathetic,” Draco growled, his grip on you tight.

With a few more thrusts Draco stilled, filling you up, letting out an outright pornographic groan.

You tried catching your breath, eyes closed and mind fogging like a windshield. It crept its way up your body, filling your mind with static, leaving you unable to focus on anything but Draco and his cock still within you.

He gave your parted lips a peck before patting your cheek and pulling out; a whimper was pulled from your lips, your body stiff in place. Draco moved your panties back over your cunt, keeping in your mixed releases, patting your bum.

“That should keep you in check,” he murmured with a smirk, pleased to watch you speechless, struggling on shaky legs to turn around.

He tucked himself away, giving you a quick look before he left.

You were so confused and out of it, heart stinging as you watched the door close behind him - you felt so useless and used.

.

The static never left, it trailed after you, making everything impossible to hear. A couple of your friends had tried talking to you, but nothing could break you out of the mindset you were in; your friends didn’t think much of it, you just seemed distracted, your eyes slightly out of focus. You didn’t see Draco for most of the day. Your mind was fuzzy, but all of his words still played on repeat, plus a nagging voice that told you, that you needed to find him, to be close to him - you craved him.

Draco watched you, books in your grasp as you made your way down the same corridor as before. You hadn’t seen him, you looked lost and confused, walking without a real destination. Draco smirked slightly, even if confusion did spark within him; you hadn’t even looked at him or acknowledged him, he knew that you were supposed to hate each other, but that didn’t mean ignoring each other.

As your figure grew closer, he moved slightly onto the opposite side of the hallway, so when you eventually went to pass one another he bumped purposely into you. What he didn’t expect was with so much static rummaging through your mind your balance wasn’t fully functional and you lost your footing. The books you held scattered around you as you landed on the ground with a ‘thud’. Your eyes widened and you looked around confused, that was until your eyes landed on Draco, stopped in his tracks, his eyes as wide as yours. At this particular moment, your brain couldn’t piece together why he would be so mean to you, your emotions running at an all-time high.

Draco internally panicked as he saw the tears well up in your eyes, your chin wobbling as you curled in on yourself. Luckily the hallway had been relatively empty, except for the odd student here and there, but that didn’t stop him from quickly walking to your side, crouching down to where you sat on the ground.

“Why are you crying?” he asked softly, instantly recognizing the out of focus look in your eyes, cursing himself for not noticing it before.

You sniffled, looking away from his face, “you’re mean.”

Draco let out a sigh, collecting the books around you and dumping them in his bag, “I know, darling… I know.”

The tears flowed freely down the apples of your cheeks, running down your neck wetting the top of your school shirt. Draco picked up your bag along with his own, hooking his hands under your arms to help you stand.

“Let’s go, love,” Draco said softly, snaking his hand around your waist to lead you toward the dungeon, to his dorm.

You pouted, but followed along with him, ignoring the weird stares you got from your fellow students.

“You’re so mean to me,” you whimpered meekly.

Draco squeezed your waist, holding in a chuckle, “I’m sorry…- but, darling, you’re just as mean.”

You gasped, tears welling up in your eyes once more, “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to.”

“No need for tears, princess.”

He shut the door to his dorm, leading you over to his bed, letting you sit before kneeling in front of you, using his thumb to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“We’re always mean to each other… - it’s just for fun,” Draco explained, trying to ease your mind.

You shook your head, “no, I hate it when you’re mean to me…- I just wanna be good for you.”

“Oh, darling girl, you were so good for me,” Draco said, a sympathetic look on his face as he helped your stand.

“- let’s take a bath, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him lead you to the bathroom. You sat on the countertop in silence, watching as Draco filled the tub, putting expensive bath salts and soaps in the warm water.

He helped strip you of your clothing, touching you with gentle hands; his hands trailed up your sides, touching you as if you were made of glass, ready to shatter in his hands any second.

You let out a soft whine as you descended into the tub, the warm water scolding on your cold skin, “ow, too hot, daddy.”

“Shh, baby…- just gotta get used to it,” Draco shushed as he helped lower you until you were properly seated.

You sat silently as Draco washed your hair and body, making sure you were clean and taken care of. You could feel the staticky fuzz in your brain starting to clear, a warm feeling spreading through you as you watched Draco care for you. He went to fetch you a glass of water, making sure you finished the whole thing, smiling proudly as you did.

He stood with a towel open for you, wrapping it around your body, hugging you close. You shut your eyes, breathing in his scent, letting him dry and warm your body.

Draco led you back to his room, finding you a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts, dressing you carefully.

His hands cupped your face, forcing your gaze upon him. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign that you were still out of it.

“You tired, baby?” he whispered.

You nodded the best you could with your face in his grasp. Draco hummed in acknowledgement, leading you to his bed, drawing the covers for him to get under, pulling you with him. He laid you almost completely on top of his chest, rubbing your back as he felt you relax against him.

“Thank you, Draco,” you whispered.

Draco chuckled lightly, “it’s no problem…- do you always get all fuzzy after sex?”

“I-I…- I wouldn’t know,” you mumbled.

Draco’s movements on your back stopped, his hand frozen in place as he processed your words. He could feel his heart cracking in his chest as he came to the realization; you let him use you, take you.

“What?” Draco asked lowly, using his free hand to angle your face up, forcing you to meet his eye.

“You… Uhm… today was m-my first time.”

The confirmation fully shattered his heart, his eyes softened, but he was lost for words, just staring at you in disbelief.

“It’s okay, Draco,” you reassured, but he shook his head.

“No, it’s not… I’m sorry, it’s not supposed to be like that… if I would’ve known I wouldn’t have done it like that… you- you deserve better than that… better than a filthy broom cupboard,” Draco stuttered, rambling and tripping over his words, guilt swimming in his gut.

You grasped his hand that held your cheek, giving it a small squeeze, “but at least it was you,” you smiled softly.

Draco’s heart melted, confused by your words, yet they made perfect sense.

“Darling girl,” he cooed, stroking your cheek softly as thoughts raced through his mind.

It looked like he was thinking things over, finally coming to a decision before leaning his head down to connect your lips, much to your surprise. You let out a sigh as you relaxed into the kiss; the kiss was soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the last time. Draco’s lips moved gently against yours, treating you with the utmost care. His tongue slid into your mouth, moving with yours softly. He grasped your waist to pull you fully on top of him to straddle his hips.

“Let me take care of you,” Draco whispered breathily against your lips.

“Okay,” you nodded, holding onto his shoulder as he held your hips.

He reconnected your lips, using his grip on your hips to help move you, grinding you against him. You let out a shaky breath into his mouth, a small whine tore from your throat as the friction cursed through your body.

“There we go, baby,” he praised, his grip tightening, moving you faster.

In one swift motion, he had flipped you around, laying on top of you between your legs, grinding his hips into yours.

Draco’s hands slid along your body, stopping at the hem of your t-shirt, sliding it off you with skilled hands.

The shirt slid off your figure and just a minute later his boxers you were wearing joined, strewn on the floor carelessly as Draco’s hands kept exploring every inch of your body. His touch left tingles in their wake and you couldn’t help the small whines that escaped your lips, desperate for him to touch you more, to feel you.

He took his time, kissing your face, your neck and down your body slowly, worshipping every inch of you.

You whined when he gently kissed the inside of your thighs, the anticipation built up in you and he smirked, his chest swelling with pride at the state of you.

“Just relax, sweetheart… gonna make you feel good,” he mumbled softly before he attached his mouth to your weeping cunt.

Your whole body twitched back arching and a long moan tore from deep within your chest. You curled your fingers into the green sheets that adorned Draco’s four-poster bed, his tongue lapping away, producing wet sounds echoing throughout the prefects' dorm.

“Mmm, Draco, feels so good,” you whimpered.

Draco kept his eyes on your face, enjoying the way your eyes shut in pleasure and your mouth stood slightly agape. He smirked as your hips started grinding against his mouth, the pleasurable peak building up in your abdomen.

“Tastes so good, sweetheart,” he replied, voice muffled by your cunt.

His fingers dug into your hips, caressing them with his thumps softly as he let you grind against him; your movements turned more frantic and less rhythmic the closer you came to your release.

You couldn’t have held back if you tried, Draco’s tongue on your clit was what pushed you over the edge. Your right hand gripped Draco’s, squeezing it as you came. He used his tongue to work you through your release, revelling in the way you tensed and your body shook from the stimulation.

Draco parted with your cunt, a smile on his face as he wiped the slick from his chin with his free hand, cleaning it off his fingers with a smack of his lips.

He crawled over you, moving your hand with his to lay beside your head, leaning down to peck your lips.

“Think you can take one more, princess?”

You nodded, using your free hand to caress his cheek, leaving a gentle smile on his face.

“Good girl,” he hummed.

He quickly kicked off his boxers, only disconnecting your hands for a moment to remove his shirt before it was interlaced with yours once more.

Before he prepared himself to push into you, he grabbed a pillow from the headboard, tapping your hips for you to lift, placing the pillow under you. He smiled a pleased smile, checking that you were comfortable before he gently ran his tip through your folds, using your arousal as lubrication.

You both let out simultaneous gasps as he pushed in, the pleasure much better than before, but a slight burn still lingered from the stretch. You whined at the intrusion, your eyes shutting.

“Hey hey, sweetheart, look at me… good job… kiss me,” Draco soothed, leaning down to connect your lips to distract you from the slight discomfort - something he wished he’d done before.

You squeezed his hand and whimpered into the kiss, letting the pain turn to pleasure as Draco bottomed out in you, stilling for you to adjust.

After your nod of consent, he began moving his hips, thrusting into you with care and determination.

“Pretty angel,” he whispered, face hovering above yours.

You only moaned softly in response, your brain shutting down, the only thing occupying your thoughts being the feel of Draco’s cock dragging against the walls of your cunt.

Draco’s pubic bone dragged against your already sensitive clit, leaving your brain numb with the pleasure from the overstimulation.

The level of your noises increased with every snap of his hips against yours and your eyes fluttered, yet you desperately tried to keep them open.

“You’re close, baby…- just let go, cum for me,” Draco spoke softly, squeezing your hand and leaning down to meet your lips in a loving kiss.

You tried reciprocating the kiss as best as you could, interrupted now and again by a moan. It only took a couple of more strokes for you to fall over the edge, your free hand reaching up to grasp Draco’s bicep; your nails dug into his flesh as your body tensed, squeezing around his cock.

“Fuck fuck fuck, Draco,” you moaned and whimpered, lips brushing against his.

Draco smiled, his thrusts faster, seconds away from reaching his peak, “gonna cum.”

You whimpered, squeezing Draco’s hand, “please, inside me… need it.”

Draco chuckled lowly, releasing a grunt as he reconnected your lips. You moaned, feeling warmth fill you, Draco’s hips stilled flush against yours. You could’ve cum again just listening to the deep moaning grunts he produced, his body close and connected with yours as if you would disappear if he didn’t stay close.

“I’m sorry,” he panted, voice just above a whisper.

You pecked his lips, moving your free hand up to caress his face, “it’s okay, Draco.”

He watched you, his face twisted as he was considering something, hesitating.

“You hate it when I’m mean to you?”

You were slightly taken aback by the question, his softening cock still inside you.

You nodded softly, “but it was the only way to get you to talk to me…- or notice me,” you blushed, embarrassed by your confession.

Draco’s face softened, even more, something unreadable flashing in his eyes, “pretty baby, that’s not true,” he cooed.

You smiled softly, “maybe we can talk about this when you’re not still inside me.”

Draco laughed, a genuine laugh, “of course, darling… let’s get you cleaned up.”

I love themm

#the two warriors leading the war against jimmy fallon

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