This Man Is Built Like A Brick House Goddamn

“We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back to see how far they have come.”

I'm just uterus with fertile eggs

I’M SALIVATING STOP ITTT

sad girl, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x amelia mae

content: in the beginning stages of their relationship, amelia finds herself questioning john and the nature of their relationship.

song reference: sad girl by lana del rey

an: idk this song does something to me. should I make a tag list?

John Egan was an enigma. A puzzle that was impossible to solve. A language she couldn’t translate. A concept she couldn’t grasp. It angered her. It sent her into emotional overload and overwhelmed her mind. She couldn’t make sense of him and it pained her. 

She found herself in her head, swimming through the sea of intrusive thoughts that invaded her mind. He wasn’t serious about her. He wasn’t capable of loving her. That was evident by the way his eyes followed the silhouette of a pretty blonde at the pub while she washed dishes and served drinks to the armymen. He didn’t know she noticed. Why would he? To him, she was nothing but a girl he’d gone on a few dates with. They weren’t committed; he owed her no loyalty. 

Her attempts at keeping her facial expressions at bay were a failure. When she rose her head, she caught the sympathetic eyes of the emphatic Gale Cleven. The smile on her face quivered as she turned her back and continued with her task. 

And his hesitancy, oh God, his hesitancy to decline a dance from a woman broke her even further. Sure, she should have been glad that he declined the brunette’s advances regardless, but the fact that he took the time to think. To ponder. To debate, made her sick to her stomach. 

She wept like a child that night. She accepted his peck on the cheek at the end of the evening, “You alright, doll?” His voice sent a chill down her spine. It stayed with her until she went home, then wept like a child. 

She was asked about him by her best friend. If only she could describe all that he was, and all that he wasn’t. He was a complex case that needed to be studied. Dissected and picked apart like an experiment. She nodded once and said, “He is a beautiful human, truly. Bold and wild like a fire. He walks in it with pride and warms everyone he comes in contact with.”

Her friend sensed the sadness laced in her words. With a small voice, she asked in return, “It sounds like you aren’t too happy about that. What’s that about?”

With a sad smile pulled at her lips. Amelia shrugged and dropped her hands into her lap defeatedly. Quietly she admitted, "I don't know if he can love me the way I love him. I think...my worst fear is that he'll light me on fire and leave me to burn in the flames...."

---

likes are nice, but please share feedback, friends!

🇳🇱 Netherlands please, Turkey 🇹🇷 cannot win so the Coach needs to step up and put my husband ( Weghorst ) on.

- Depay cannot finish for the life of him

- The whole Dutch team need to attack and bc all they do is stand still when Türkiye has the ball

- Xavi Simmons, my baby, in Midfield all by himself

- The fossil ( Van Dijk ) being useless and stumbling everywhere

- Dishonourable mentions : Dumfries

STEP UP NEDERLANDEEE

* My husband is subbed in

Basically.............

He's my husband xxxx

special moments, joe rantz

pairing: joe rantz (the boys in the boat) x black fem oc (cleotha jean)

content: cleotha has the opportunity to enter joe's world just for a moment.

an: for the joe lovers out there.

He was rattled by the day’s events. His mouth didn’t have to move for her to know. She could see the pain in his eyes. It was like he was a young boy again, confused as to why his father abandoned him with no regard. Rejection covered him like a blanket and he wore it all day long. It was a sad sight to see. 

Their date ended early that day. As much as she wanted to press the matter, she knew that space was what she could provide. But, after not hearing from him for hours, she found herself walking to the bunks of the rowing team. 

Cleotha grunted as she trudged through the grass to the board house. Through the back door, up the steps, through a side door, and down the hallway. Her footsteps were gentle as she tiptoed through the hoard house. When she arrived at the bedroom door, it was cracked, and his bed was empty. She furrowed her eyebrows.

Turning on the ball of her feet, she padded down the opposite side of the hallway. She hummed a soft tune and sped down the hallway. A room with a window lit dimly caught her attention. Her movements slowed as she saw movement in the room. Then, a head of platinum hair came into view.

Cleotha’s eyes lit up. She stuck her hand out and twisted the doorknob. “Hey…” her voice caused his head to rise. He was startled, but his eyes softened as she stepped in. She clutched her blanket around her body and smiled weakly.

“Hi.” Joe placed the object against the newly constructed boat and walked toward her. He wrapped his strong arms around her and inhaled deeply, basking in her scent of vanilla and cinnamon. “How’d you know I was here?” 

Cleotha shrugged. “Weren’t in your room. Walked a little further and found the light on. You’re the only one who’d marry a boat if you could.” For the first time, Joe laughed. 

“Something like that,” he replied once they separated. “I don’t know…gives me peace, I guess.” Joe picked up the sanding block again but began to sand the bottom of the boat. 

Cleotha nodded and watched him work. He was focused and so dedicated to the craft. She couldn’t help but smile. His arms flexed with every stroke of the sandblock against the beautiful craven wood. 

“Wanna try?” he asked, feeling her eyes on him. Cleotha grinned and placed her blanket on a nearby surface. Joe opened up, allowing her to rest her back against his chest. She felt small beneath his stature but she leaned into his body just the same. “You wanna try to swipe in one direction. From the back forward.” 

Cleotha’s body warmed when he covered her hand with his own to direct her movements. “Just like that.” 

Moments like these were her favorite. Where time stood still and they were in their own world just basking in the presence of the other. It was a simple thing, but she loved it all the same. 

It took an hour to finish sanding the underside of the boat. Her arms were sore and stiff and she was sure she sweated out her undergarments, but seeing the look of pride on her boyfriend's face was worth it all. Especially after the turmoil he’d gone through earlier in the day.

“Well, sweetheart, I think we’re done.” Joe gave her a smile and wiped his hands on a rag. She smiled back. “I see why you do it. It’s therapeutic.”

Joe admired his work. “It is.”

“Whenever you work on the next one, I’ll sneak in here and join you,” Cleotha winked. She grabbed her blanket and tossed it over her shoulders. Joe followed her steps toward the door.

“I’d like that,” he replied.

“Good.” She grabbed his hand. “Now, take me to bed, Boat Boy. I’m sleepy.”

Joe pressed a kiss against her temple and turned off the light behind them. “Yes ma’am.”

Literal poetry 😭💕

toxic!dad!rafe acting guilty and sweet around reader while she takes care of his kids because he acted her soo bad yesterday:( maybe hit her, maybe telling her reallyy bad things and she got hurt

This is so good wtf I love this idea it's lowkey fucked me up tho 😔

The morning was quiet, save for the soft tune of a lullaby Y/N absentmindedly hummed under her breath. She sat on the floor of the living room, legs folded beneath her, while her daughter sat in front of her, small and fidgety as Y/N carefully braided her soft curls. The little girl giggled every time her mothers fingers tickled the back of her neck, her chubby hands clutching her stuffed bunny tightly.

“Almost done, baby”

She murmured, gently smoothing her daughter’s hair before looping the final section of the braid. Her reflection in the door leading out to the garden, it caught her off guard. The faintest streak of red where Rafe’s signet ring had nicked her skin. The light swelling of her cheek, just enough to make her wince when she thought too hard about what had happened. Her breath hitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the memory away but the calm didnt last for long.

She felt him before she saw him.

Rafe’s presence lingered in the doorway, heavy and suffocating. She knew he was watching- had probably been watching for a while now. Still, she didn’t acknowledge him, she just kept braiding. Rafe cleared his throat.

“I, uh- made you that tea y'like...”

Y/N didn’t respond. He shifted on his feet as he looked down to the little girl sitting. He muttered, nodding toward their daughter’s hair.

“Looks nice”

Y/N tied off the braid with a small elastic as she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her daughter’s head before nudging her forward.

“Go show your bunny baby”

The toddler wobbled off, giggling as she held the braid over her shoulder, showing it off to her stuffed animal like it was the best thing in the world. Y/N took a breath, exhaling slowly, then pushed herself off the floor. She barely got a step away before Rafe moved, cutting her off.

“Y/N…”

His voice was softer now. Careful. Like he knew he was treading dangerous ground. She felt his fingers barely graze her arm, his touch feather-light as they trailed down- over the bruise he left on her wrist, over the soreness beneath her skin. But then he stopped.

Right at her cheek.

The pad of his thumb brushed over the small cut, and she flinched causing him to pull away immediately. She turned to him then, finally looking at him. The guilt was evident in his face, but she said nothing.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t.”

Her voice cracked, but she didn’t waver. His jaw clenched slightly, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Not in anger- just restraint.

“I just... fuck Y/N, I don’t wanna fight—”

“You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

A hollow laugh escaped her lips, quiet and humorless. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, letting out a sigh as his head nodded a little.

“I know.”

She shook her head, turning away from him, her eyes landing on their daughter who now sat near her play pen, enamoured with some pink blocks wheezie had bought her.

“What were you even so angry about, Rafe? What was so fucking bad that you had to hit me?”

He paused at her words, yet her voice wasn’t yelling. It wasn’t even angry anymore. That made it worse.

“I—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

“I don’t know.”

He did know.

It had started over something stupid. He had been out late- again. She had called him- again, multiple times, like she did every night. And when he finally came home, she had been pissed—rightfully so. Their argument had escalated soon after that;

"You can’t just disappear all night, Rafe."

Her voice was irritated but careful- not because she wasn’t angry, but because she knew better than to raise it in the house when everyone was asleep. Knew that if anyone overheard, it would just give him another reason to twist things around, to make her seem like the problem starter.

"I was handling business."

Rafe’s voice was humerously calm, but it wasn’t apologetic. It was clipped, defensive, like he was already prepared for a fight. Like he had expected this reaction from her. Y/N scoffed, folding her arms across her chest.

"Oh, right. ‘Business.’ That’s what we’re calling it now?"

That got his attention. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dark crossing his face as he took a slow step closer. He muttered out, voice sharp and dangerously low.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means, jesus Rafe. You're a dad now—you can't do this shit anymore."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. Her arms tightened around herself, her voice cracking just slightly before she forced it steady again.

"You can’t be out all night doing God knows what and then just waltz back in like nothing happened."

"I just told you, I was handling shit."

He exhaled harshly through his nose, running a hand over his face. She shook her head as she looked at him, her hands were shaking from the fact she was arguing with him in the first place but she couldn't stop herself anymore.

"Handling what?"

She shot back, her voice strained but still hushed. She was tired- exhausted even. She'd been looking after their baby girl all by herself, days and nights, and she'd had enough. She was miserable and that's not what she wanted to be

"Whatever bullshit mess you got yourself into again? Do you even think about her? Do you care you've left me by my—"

"Of course I care." His jaw tensed, his entire body wound tight like a spring.

"Don’t fucking act like I don’t care."

He snapped at her and she took a step back, shaking her head, the lump in her throat growing.

"Well you don’t act like it."

She let the words hang between them for a second, watching his expression shift, his lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line. She was so sick of his shit, she just wanted to scream at him, but she didn't- she couldnt. Yet before she could stop herself the words fell from her mouth,

"You're just like him, you know that?"

His entire body went rigid as the sentense passed her lips, and he instantly tured around to face her.

"What?"

Her throat felt tight, but she didn’t back down. "You're just like your dad." she whispered.

"Someone who pretends to care about his family but in reality—"

The slap came fast.

A sharp, stinging pain shot through her cheek, her head whipping to the side as she gasped. His signet ring sliced against her skin, the warmth of blood rising in its place almost instantly.

Silence

She barely registered the sound of her breath hitching, or the way her vision blurred for a second before sharpening on the floor. Everything felt muted, heavy. Her cheek burned and her ears rang, the sound reverberating. Rafe was just standing there, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell quickly, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides at the burn in his palm. His eyes weren’t on hers. No, they were fixated on the mark he had just left, on the crimson dot blooming just below her cheekbone. And then, his voice—low but edged with something unsettling.

"Don't ever fucking say that to me."

Her eyes were now unreadable, dark with exhaustion and something heavier. He hadn’t seen her cry last night. Not in front of him. Not after she had staggered back from the slap, a thin line of red appearing beneath her cheekbone where his ring had nicked her skin. She had just gone quiet and that had fucked with him more than anything.

“I just wanna make it up to you.”

Rafe said now, voice barely above a whisper. Y/N blinked, eyes burning as she mumbled out in return.

“I don't know...”

She stood there, breathing him in- his presence, his guilt, his need to smooth things over like last night never happened. Her cheek still stung faintly, the cut from his ring a sharp reminder of how far he’d taken it. And yet, Rafe was standing there, looking at her like he was the one hurting. Like he was suffering under the weight of his own actions. Her lips parted, words barely forming before she was cut off-

“Dada!”

Their daughter’s voice broke through the thick tension, her small feet pattering against the hardwood as she toddled toward them. She latched onto Rafe’s trousers with both hands, tugging insistently.

“Up!”

She demanded, eyes big and expectant. Y/N’s stomach twisted the moment Rafe bent down without hesitation, scooping their little girl into his arms with ease. His large hand supporying her small frame, letting her rest against him.

“Forgive me, please”

He murmured again, but this time, his voice was softer, edged with something sweeter. Y/N swallowed, throat tightening.

She knew what he was doing.

He knew she wouldn’t start a fight with him while their daughter was in his arms. He knew she wouldn’t reject him, not with their little girl looking between them, not with her small hands resting against his chest, oblivious to the storm simmering beneath the surface of her parents relationship. Rafe studied her carefully, watching the way her expression shifted- conflicted, torn. His grip on their daughter tightened ever so slightly, a silent reminder of what was between them, what they shared.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered.

“Let me fix this.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her gaze flickering to their daughter. She was sucking her thumb now, head resting lazily on Rafe’s shoulder, so blissfully unaware. She clenched her jaw, blinking rapidly at the water pooling on her waterline, lips pressing together into a thin line. And then- their daughter, still nestled in Rafe’s arms- turned her head slightly, her little eyes locking onto Y/N’s. The small hand that had been contently resting against Rafe’s chest now reached out towards her, fingers wiggling with in a grabbing motion.

An unspoken demand for her to come closer.

Y/N’s chest tightened. The sight of their daughter’s small, innocent gesture, that soft yearning for her mother, cracked through her resolve. She had no words, just the flutter in her chest with caused her breath to hitch.

“Okay”

Y/N whispered, so quietly it could’ve been mistaken for a breath. Rafe’s eyes softened, a glint of triumph flashing briefly before he stepped forward, a slow, deliberate smile tugging at his lips. Before Y/N could fully process the shift, Rafe closed the space between them, pulling her closer and capturing her lips in a kiss.

It was slow.

Sweet.

The kind that carried an underlying ache, as though they both knew that they were only putting a temporary bandage over something far more complicated. But in that moment, Y/N didn’t pull away, she couldn't bring herself to. Instead she let him kiss her and let herself fall back into the illusion of peace.

this lowkey made me want to sob. . . ?

torture, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan + black!fem!oc (amelia egan)s

content: John is interrogated in Germany.

an: y'all...part 6 of mota....tore me up. spoilers ahead. let's talk about this part! comment, reblog, and send asks!

gif: @olympain

“Married?” 

Silence. The air was tense. How could it not be? An American soldier had been captured in the swamps of German territory, beaten like a mule, and whipped like a Roman traitor. Just outside of his line of vision, he saw the bodies of soldiers and civilians drug across the gravel lot. An American soldier had been captured in the swamps of German territory and questioned like a federal criminal by a German pilot who grinned like a cashmere cat; evil and conniving. Silence. 

The German interrogator, Hausmann, chuckled dryly and hovered his pen over the sheet of paper under his arm.“From what I hear, I assume you are unmar—“

“I have a wife,” he answered gruffly after some time. A lovely wife, at that. Full of love and affection, mercy and kindness. He missed her dearly. He kept a photo of her in his breast pocket but was too fearful of the damage to look at it. 

His throat felt thick like maple syrup running down the stump of a tree. His jaw shook as he inhaled the lit cigarette. He pushed the smoke out of his nose. 

Hausmann hummed. “Yes, Amelia. Amelia Mae Egan, correct?”

 John leaned forward. How the hell did he know that? He clenched his teeth. The tips of his ears reddened.

The interrogator nodded, his eyebrow-raising in amusement at the pilot’s demeanor shift. John saw the wheels turning in the man's head. In frustration, he ashed the cigarette and dropped his hand against the desk with a thud. The blonde interrogator met John's blue eyes. 

“Sorry, Major, I had to ask for documentation. She’s a beautiful woman. I didn’t think these kinds of…couplings were common in America. They aren’t here.” Gasket blown.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little confused,” John hissed. His voice raised an octave which caused the interrogator to jump slightly.``You asked if I was married, and I said yes. I don’t see the point you’re trying to make here, but I’m sure it isn't a part of your freakin’ protocol. Keep my wife out of it.”

Hausmann raised his hands in defense and laughed lightly. John failed to find the joke. His patience wore thin. “Easy, Major Egan. I meant no harm. But um, I have to say, you are making this harder than it needs to be. I simply would like to talk to you, so, I’ll ask you again…”

The words went over his head. His mind spiraled out of control. He had never seen this man in his life yet he knew of his personal life? He knew of Amelia. His precious Rose. He knew of his relationship with Buck, and he was holding it in front of him like a treat for an animal. Is that how he was viewed? As a rabid animal who went killing people like it was a sport? 

No, that wasn’t the case at all. He was nothing but a soldier trying to defend his country. If there was another way to solve the issue, who would he be to decline the proposition? And this…this was the punishment for it? His dignity, his life, and his purpose were all questioned by a man who was no better than he was. It was torture.

John’s tongue scraped the roof of his mouth as he lifted his eyes from the papers littered across the desk. Planes crashed. Soldiers lost. His wife at home, clueless about what had gone on. She was unaware if he was alive or dead. Hell, he had no clue where his fate lay either. Would there even be an opportunity to hear her voice again? He could only pray. 

He blinked away the tears that pooled in his eyes. Once again, he stated, “John Egan. Major…” Torture indeed. 

from me to you, major john egan

pairing: major john egan x amelia mae egan

content: John is held as a POW in Germany. as the men are getting letters, it seems as though he hasn't received one. until hers arrived late.

an: thoughts on MOTA pt. 7? again, thank you @turn-thy-paige for the letter-writing ideas.

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa @lovebyceleste

"Major," said one of his soldiers. John's chewing slowed as his eyes lifted. In front of him was a letter. Beaten, battered, and torn along the edges. But, it was there. His heart leapt though his eyes didn't show it. Everyone around him had received something from a loved one except for him, so it seemed.

John accepted it with a nod and slowly returned to his position, movements slow from the turmoil his body had gone through.

The toll of war weighed equally heavy on the mind as it did on the body. Exhaustion and fatigue of the mind came just as frequently. Rest was necessary. Breaks were necessary. Moments of care, tenderness, and compassion were necessary to keep the men from crumbling beneath the immense pressure they were burdened with. With headstrong men, that was a rare occurrence. It usually came in the form of letters. Letters from friends, lovers, and families. They were the blood that kept the hearts of the men pumping. 

Major John Egan’s heart beat slowly. The strong organ drained more and more as the days went on. He huffed slowly. In his hand was a crinkled envelope. It had been stained with dust and dirt and the lefthand corner was ripped. Johnny was written in the middle. 

He tore the top of it and peeled the wrinkled paper out of the envelope. His head hung low as his eyes darted across the paper. Her scent was on the paper. Vanilla and sandalwood. He brought the letter to his nose and inhaled softly, a soft sob fell from his lips. 

Hi Johnny, it read. 

It’s been 67 days since you left. I told myself I wouldn’t count the days, but I couldn’t help it. The bed is cold, breakfast time is miserable to sit through most days, and my coffee would taste disgusting. You make it so well; what’s your trick? I never thought to ask. I didn’t think I would need to. How foolish of me. 

I've taken up a job—not out of necessity, but to fill the void in my days. It distracts me from the ache of missing you. I'm doing editing work at a local news station, finally putting my degree to good use. Sometimes, I steal moments to write about us, envisioning our future and the life we'll share one day.

Are you holding up, my love? War is often romanticized, but I understand it's far from glamorous. I can't fathom the things you witness and endure daily, the thoughts that must plague your mind. 

I think of you every day. I keep you in my prayers, begging God to keep you all and for you to return safely and soundly. 

Though it is easier said than done, find something to smile about. Stay positive. And come back home to me. 

I love you. See you soon. 

P.S. 

We’re having a baby. Make it home for the birth of your child, or we're going to have an issue.

With all my affection, 

Amelie Rose

A single tear hit the paper. A baby? His thumb grazed over her sentiments. I love you. See you soon. We're having a baby. “Soon couldn't come fast enough,” he whispered, yearning for the day he’d be in her arms again. With a heart heavy with longing, John folded the letter carefully, tucking it in the inner pocket of his jacket, finding solace in the promise of love and the anticipation of their reunion.

My inner freak has come out hehehehehe 😏😏

❥𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝒈𝒇 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝒘/ 𝑱𝒐𝒆 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒛 💕 thanks to this edit:

@missusnora @eleanorbaybars

❣︎𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: （𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑠）𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔/𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐽𝑜𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑔 𝑓𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝐽𝑜𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑎 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘, 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝐷𝑂𝑊𝑁 𝐵𝐴𝐷 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚, ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛，𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘, 𝑚𝑎𝑛ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑛𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠✬𝑥, 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑝✪𝑟𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡，𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒏 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑦 𝑗𝑎𝑖𝑙, MINORS NO😡

． ．．．

“𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐳’ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝒔𝒐, 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐...“

Innocently enough you were actually supposed to be doing something on campus. Yet here you are currently with your dress rucked around your waist, tongue kissing and grinding on your Blonde Babe™️ boyfriend.

Sorrows and prayers to your responsibilities.

He’s not even supposed to be in your room. Inside a strict all girl dormitory with rules against “gentleman callers” and such. Your concern for that, however, goes out the window when you feel his big rough hands feel up your body, thumbs teasing your hard nipples through your dress and trail down, squeezing your ass. He feels so good. And he’s so pretty…god you need him to ruin you.

“Mmmh- Joe-…”, you moan softly, pulling away from the kiss to look at him. Bad idea.

His half-lidded blue eyes are nearly black, lips swollen and shiny. “Wanna stop?”, he breathes out, the husk in his already deep voice adds to the heat inside of you.

“No-!”, stopping was the LAST thing you wanted, “I just wanna be on top this time”, having to choke the words out because of him suddenlu sucking wetly all over your throat. Moaning when his broad tongue licks up your jaw before slotting his plump lips over yours, kissing you deeply. Distantly aware of the fact that you’re dripping all on him as your eyes roll back into your skull. Body hot with every pulse of your cunt.

Joe isn’t opposed to you being on top but, you’re already so fucked out just from a little kissing and humping…

“Mmm okay. S’fine with me”, and that’s your green light as his voice paired with his gaze sends you into a frenzy.

Clothes can’t come off fast enough.

He’s so effortlessly hot that it’s unfair. And honestly, that’s how you two got like this. It was all his fault really. Sexy blonde hair, the constant bedroom eyes, goddamn tall, focused, and easygoing demeanor.

Naked and ready to rock his world, you give him a quick peck insisting you don’t need prep when he asks. Which is usually necessary since he’s so big all around. Broad chest and shoulders, thick muscled arms, thighs, and massive hands. Your fingers barely touch when you wrap them around him but it’s fine. You look up but he’s already looking at you.

“Y’need me to help ya put it in?“

Fuck, shit, hell, damnit, that’s the last straw and you sink down on him.

Gasping, it burns as he stretches you out, like actually hurts, but it hurts in the best way possible. Moaning in unison, Joe grabs your waist tight, suckling wet kisses all over your chest, breathing in your sweet scent.

You smell so good that he wishes he could bend you over and eat you every day.

The pleasure that rips through you has you gasping while you roll your hips and start riding him. His cock hits every spot as it fucks into your sopping cunt over and over. Your eyes water but you keep them on anything but him because the way he looks at you is too much. It’s bad enough that you’re so soaked it’s audible. Wet smacks, heavy breathing, and your near crying as Joe slams you down on his fat cock.

Sometimes he’s gentle but when you get like this he really can’t bother to be. Such a tight, soaked, little hole, with your mischievous doe eyes and sweet smiles…teasing him. Always such a cheeky little thing but it all stopped when he got you like this.

The groan that comes out of his mouth is sinful as he feels your walls pulse erratically around him. You’re close.

Grabbing your cheeks, he makes you look at him. The cockdrunk, dazed look on your face inspires something dangerous in him and he grinds his fat tip against that special spot inside you, hissing at the gush of slick that follows.

“Fuck me, that’s it. Y’gonna make a mess huh? Yeah. I know you are…cuz she’s squeezing me so tight”, he whispers hotly against your lips, taking the rough pad of his thumb to wreak havoc against your aching clit. Looking straight into your teary blown eyes as you cry for him.

“Shhh, it’s okay…thatsss it..cum for me sweetness. Let me have it baby”. Joe’s sultry low voice with the way he strums your swollen stuffed pussy makes you orgasm so hard it hurts. Whining and screaming through the almost endless waves of white hot pleasure, you don’t even notice Joe swearing, brows furrowed, biting his lip at the ring of cream around his base. There’s a possibility the whole dorm heard you and by the end of it, you’re boneless.

By the tume you come down, it takes a minute for the change of position to click until you see Joe above you. Smiling, he leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth where you had drooled when he evicted your soul from your body, licking his lips after. (Like this man is a freak and I won’t hear otherwise)

“Wait-! Did you…?”, your hoarse question doesn’t linger in the air too long but Joe’s answer has that heat stirring up again.

“No…but don’t worry. I will, n’ this time, I’ll be on top….because I wanna watch it leak out of ya when I do. S’that okay, baby?” He swears he’s never been this hard in his life as he looks down at you dreamily. Soft, warm, and sated. Fuck.

But you? Are reeling.

Where did he learn how to talk like that?

Nodding weakly, it’s “whatever you want”. Gasping when he smacks the thick head of his tip on your clit, you spread your shaky legs wider. Ready for round 2 and that’s his cue.

Getting between your legs, folding your knees to your chest….

“So don't tap out on me just yet.”