I'll Be Your Bright Side* - Benny Miller is your best friend. But as time goes on, it’s becoming more and more difficult to differentiate between the rapidly blurring lines of friendship and something more—the far deeper feelings that keep you up at night.
// ONESHOTS
i'd be home with you - Leave it to Benny Miller to finally kiss you after five years of dancing around one another, only to turn tail and run, disappearing for weeks without a goddamn trace.
spinning on that dizzy edge - While there’s not a single doubt that you and Benny Miller have shared a heady, distracting mutual attraction from the day that the two of you met, the timing has just never been right.
tides & heat* - Flirting with Benny Miller every chance you get while simultaneously deflecting his advances is all fun and games until you find yourself stuck at his bar in the middle of a tropical storm.
Reflections* - You think mirrored closet doors are the perfect solution for making your small bedroom feel a bit less tiny. Benny, on the other hand, has other ideas about what exactly they’re good for.
Wrapped up in You* - You’re downright exhausted after running a marathon, so Benny does what he does best: he takes care of you.
Dealer's Choice - Another night at the casino means another night of watching Benny and Santiago fail miserably at poker.
Determined* - Once you start talking about the future, Benny takes his mission to knock you up very seriously.
All I Need* - Holidays are always difficult when Benny can’t take leave from his deployment. But this year, unbeknownst to you, he will be home for Christmas.
wanton intonation* - Benny realizes just how much the sound of his deep voice affects you one morning.
good form* - Benny’s self-control only goes so far, especially when he’s trying to teach you how to do squats.
// THREESOMES
a proposition* (Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Benny Miller) - Santiago thinks that maybe it’s time for the two of you to change things up in the bedroom. Because if he’s going to share you with anyone, it’s most certainly going to be Benjamin Miller.
A Helping Hand* (Benny Miller x f!reader x Frankie Morales) - You and Benny are no good at being quiet, not even when you’re staying in Frankie’s guest room.
The Feeling’s Mutual* (Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Benny Miller) - Sometimes, maybe, the best way to tell two of your closest friends that you want to sleep with them is to accidentally watch porn together.
// HEADCANONS/DRABBLES/MISC.
▸ Autumn with Benny
▸ Confessing feelings/dating
▸ Wound care
▸ Cuddling
▸ Dad!Benny
▸ Benny's terms of endearment
▸ Kissing Benny
▸ Meeting Benny at a bar 1 & 2
▸ Stealing Benny's clothes
▸ Cuddling on the back porch
▸ Soft Benny during your period
▸ How Benny lost his virginity
NSFW*
▸ Benny's kinks*
▸ Cuddling*
▸ Spicy thots*
▸ Jealous Benny Miller*
▸ Stained: period sex with Benny*
▸ Patience: or, Benny fails at cockwarming*
▸ Quickies with Benny*
▸ Hands to Yourself: Benny watches you masturbate*
▸ Keep the Gloves On: glove kink*
▸ Excess adrenaline*
▸ Benny + cuddle sex*
▸ Benny + shower sex*
▸ Benny + voice kink, dirty talk*
▸ Benny, blindfolded*
▸ Benny takes care of you when you're sick*
▸ Filled: creampies, baby!*
// ADDITIONAL
Benny x reader x Santiago
▸ Benny & Santi help you sleep*
▸ Benny & Santi make a bad day better*
▸ Rainy days with Benny & Santi*
▸ Consensual voyeurism with Benny & Santi*
▸ Spicy thots with Benny & Santi*
▸ Benny & Santiago distract you
▸ Comfort after a nightmare with Benny & Santi
▸ Under the Weather with Benny & Santi
▸ Intertwined: cuddling on a cold night with Benny & Santi
▸ Casual conversation*
▸ Phone sex*
Benny x reader vs. Santiago x reader
▸ Types of affection with Benny vs. Santiago
▸ No Nut November: Benny vs. Santiago*
▸ Dating Benny vs. Santiago
▸ Domesticity with Benny vs. Santiago
▸ Favorite Body Parts: Benny vs. Santiago*
▸ Stamina and Sex Drive: Benny vs. Santiago*
Benny, Santiago, Frankie, & Will
▸ Sending the boys candle shopping
▸ A night at the fair with the boys
▸ Dirty talk with the boys*
▸ The boys meet your friends
▸ The boys rescue you at the bar
▸ Party tricks with the boys
▸ Thanksgiving with the boys
▸ The boys vs. the lube snail
▸ The boys & their caffeinated weapons of choice
▸ The boys vs. Just Dance
▸ The boys vs. cursed underwear
Summary: You're aware of your feelings for Mike, but you're unsure if he feels the same. A single late-night conversation changes everything. (4.2k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )
Extra Notes: Posted October 29, 2023
－－－
You know Mike, sometimes. Mainly in bits and pieces.
You know he has that poster of Nebraska above his bed; you know he's got a soft spot for terrible eighties cartoons. You know he likes his steak well done. Maybe it's generally useless information — but you've tucked it all away in a dear corner of your brain, in a well-worn cardboard box with his name scrawled fondly on the side in Sharpie.
He's been busy nowadays, especially with his awful new job at that abandoned restaurant. You've always been there if he needs someone to watch over Abby. It's a strange juxtaposition— spending more and more time at his house, but spending less and less time actually talking to him. But you know he's exhausted, both mentally and physically.
You don't expect much. You don't need much. Even though Mike's always offered to actually pay you for babysitting Abby, you've always declined.
However— needing and wanting are two very different things.
And you want. So, so much.
Sitting here, on the couch in his living room, your mind always wanders back to him. Abby's a really nice kid, even if she's a little on the eccentric side. Whenever you're sitting with her, watching her draw or watching the television, you can't really focus on Mike. But now, with her safely put to bed … There's nothing to stop you. Nothing to distract you from the empty spot next to you on the couch.
You blink, already bleary-eyed from the hour. There's some mediocre sitcom playing on the television. It's practically white noise, and you can feel yourself slowly but surely being lulled to sleep. The stubborn part of you wants to fight it. The tired part of you wants to just let it happen. You fumble for the remote instead, switching the channel.
World News Now?
Not bad, you think wryly, slumping back into the pillows. You liked the guy playing the accordion and singing about the news, polka-style. Hopefully they'll bring that back. Maybe large broadcasting networks actually do know their audiences.
Yeah, no.
You stifle a yawn, tugging your blanket a little tighter. The room's dark, so the only real sources of light are coming from the kitchen and the bluish glow of the television. The only sounds besides that of the T.V. are the occasional car passing by, joined by the gentle chorus of crickets. It's quiet, but not in a discomforting way.
It's kind of perfect. Like your own little bubble in the world. Untouchable. Not until the sun rises, anyway.
Your bubble suddenly pops when a car pulls into the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement, and your heart skips.
It couldn't be anyone else.
About a minute later, there's the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swings open and then shuts behind him. Softly. He knows Abby would wake up if he slammed it. Then there's the thump of him setting down his stuff— carelessly.
The couch cushions squeak a little when Mike sits down next to you. Silently. He's gotten rid of that stupid security vest.
"Hey," you offer.
"Hi," he obliges.
You're sure he's not really paying attention to the T.V. "How was work?"
It's bland small talk at best, and brutally annoying at worst. But it's the only way to move into interesting conversation territory. And he didn't just trudge past you to go flop down on his bed, so you're assuming he does want to talk. You might pretend not to know, but you're well aware of his social life— or lack thereof. Everyone needs to talk, sometimes.
"Pretty dull." Rolling his probably stiff shoulders, he lets out a small sound of discomfort. Sheepishly, he murmurs: "I kind of … I kind of just napped, to be honest."
"Aren't you supposed to be a security guard?" You tease. "That's a really important job, you know. You have to stop all the dangerous teenagers from breaking in and spray-painting dicks on the walls."
He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh. "Honestly, the pay's too low to take it seriously."
"And yet … "
"There weren't any kids, okay?" Mike shakes his head. When you turn to look at him, though, he's smiling. It's faint, but it's there. "No dangerous teenagers that I had to fight off. It was fine."
"Fine?"
"Fine."
You don't want to let the silence set in.
"Oh, yeah, we finished the leftover spaghetti earlier. For dinner. I hope that's okay."
"No, it's terrible," he deadpans. "I hate you."
"Asshole."
"Whatever." Mike snickers, and you bask in its gloriousness. "Yeah, it's okay. I know that I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Did you, uh … " He pauses for a split second. "… Did you like it?"
His tone makes you wonder, but you hastily brush it off. "Yeah, I did," you clarify, "the sauce was pretty great. Was it store-bought, or?" Because if it was, then where can I get it?
"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "Great stuff, for something that's canned. But I always add a little more garlic powder, too."
"Oh, really?"
Mike hums an affirmation. "It's like magic, I'm telling you. Doesn't even take a lot to add flavor."
"That's cool." You rustle with your blanket again, adjusting it more out of habit than anything else. That, and it's kind of cold. "I'll try and remember it for later."
He's almost cheeky when he speaks.
"It's life-changing."
You can't help but snort. "You sound like an addict."
Incredulously, he glances at you. "To what? Garlic powder?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
"I can't believe that you'd say that." He slowly shakes his head, for the second time in the span of roughly a minute. "Especially as someone who's experienced it firsthand—"
"—you're the one talking about how life-changing it is—"
"—you can't possibly ignore the irresistible savoriness of garlic powder."
You look at one another for a moment. The sheer absurdity of the situation sets in all at once. And, well. He starts giggling, and you can't hold it in, either. How could you? Even though he looks at least part zombie, his eyes are still very much alive. Despite the blatant awkwardness and lingering shyness that always follows him around, he's still got a very contagious laugh.
After you both calm down, he lets out a long sigh.
"It's getting really late."
You cling to what little stubbornness remains. "Yeah?"
"Are you gonna head home?"
Again, there's something there. Despite his nonchalant attitude, it's almost like—
—but you're probably overthinking. Wouldn't be anything new. He has to get some rest, and so do you. The drowsiness repeatedly threatening to tug your eyelids closed is a testament to that. Normally, you'd just pass out on the couch or something, and take off early in the morning; before Mike and Abby wake up. But now, it's different. Now, you actually have to make a choice before your sleepy body makes it for you.
"Um." You rub your eyes again. "I mean. I could, if it's bothering you—"
"It's not."
He interrupts you so quickly that it catches you off-guard. It seemingly catches him off-guard, too, judging by the way he promptly averts his gaze and pretends to care about the guy on the television going on about some sort of plumber strike in the city.
"Oh." You need a second to process. "Oh, okay. Well, in that case … I don't really think that it'd be safe for me to drive right now." You laugh, a little too airily for it to be completely genuine. "I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel or something." At least that's the truth. "I'll just take the couch. As usual."
"Okay," he says. He's back to murmuring.
"And I'll be gone before you eat breakfast." Subconsciously, you're fiddling with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. It's well-loved. "As usual."
You think you hear him suck in a breath, seconds before:
"Why don't you stay?"
Your own breath stutters in your chest.
"... what?" Is all you can manage, without horrifically humiliating yourself.
"I mean," he rushes to correct himself, "you come by sometimes because you want to spend time with Abby— she likes you a lot, you know, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me . I think—" He's properly nervous now, his knee bouncing up and down. But he's already continuing before you can get a word in. "I think she'd like you to be here in the morning. And you don't accept pay, anyway. You just— won't."
His nervousness is spreading to you. "Hey, I—"
"Why are you here, anyway?"
The question sounds like it's been a long time coming. He's demanding you now, brow furrowed and eyes sparking with emotion. "Is it out of pity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for Abby? Because if you do, then— then you can just—"
"It's not!" You exclaim.
Immediately, you realize that there's a sleeping girl not too far away, and shamefully lower your voice.
"... It's not, I promise. I just—" It takes a little while for you to gather the right words, and when you do, you don't drop your gaze from him. All of his previous frustration is all but gone, replaced by a slightly wide-eyed expression that's making your heart ache a little. "I genuinely really like spending time with Abby, okay? She's really sweet, and creative, and just a really great kid. And I—"
You stop yourself.
"And you what?" Mike asks, gently.
Might as well, huh?
"And I really like spending time with you, too," you admit, finally unable to meet his eyes and focusing on your lap instead.
There's an incredibly tense beat, in which you swear your life flashes before your eyes.
Then:
He's barely audible when he speaks. His knee has stopped bouncing, but he's playing with his thumbs. Clearly, your confession— vague as it was— resonated with him, in some way. You hope he understands what you meant, because you couldn't possibly put it all into words in a way that would make sense.
"Feeling's mutual," he mutters.
Your head almost snaps up at that. Maybe you had expected it, deep down— you're not oblivious, duh— but it's one thing to have a hunch, and another to have that hunch proven. And out loud, no less.
"Yeah?" You dare to ask.
Slowly, he looks up. He meets your eyes.
"Yeah," he repeats breathlessly, like the wind's been knocked out of him.
You let your blanket fall from your shoulders, and it slides all the way onto the floor.
You reach out.
He lets you lace your fingers through his.
Mike's palm is sort of clammy— and he's shaking a little— but he still squeezes your hand. On instinct, you guess. It still makes you smile. He doesn't return it, but his lips are parted a little, and you really, really like that. More than you probably should. You like a lot of things about him more than you probably should.
You scooch a little closer, and he doesn't move away. You let your gaze drop back down to his lips again, making your intentions clear. Still, you don't know if it's clear enough. You lean in, just barely.
"... Can I?"
His reply is almost instantaneous.
"Please."
You swallow all of the witty quips you could make, and kiss him instead.
He's very tentative at first. Like he hasn't done this for a while. But you ease him into it— and before long, he's got one hand on the back of your neck, the other somewhere near your waist. He tastes like coffee and something else you can't really put your finger on. It doesn't really matter, though. Because you are kissing him, damnit!
His eyes are still shut when you part— with a soft smack — but they flutter open after a second. You're not sure if you're supposed to say something meaningful. Luckily, he leans in instead, and your thoughts are immediately transported elsewhere.
You kiss like this for a while. It's really nice, and you know he needs it. So do you.
However— when you start losing track of time, lost in the moment, he makes a noise.
It's quiet, definitely. But it's nothing like the little hums and sighs he's been making so far. It makes you shift closer, pressing more insistently into him. And he responds, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around you, closing the little distance between your bodies that there was. You can practically feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest when you slip your tongue past his already kiss-swollen lips.
He moans.
You indulge yourself. For a little longer. And Mike chases you when you part.
"We shouldn't do this in the living room," you whisper, nearly panting. "The couch is a little—"
"Okay," he whispers back, already sounding wrecked. "Okay."
You've been in his room before. You've sat on his bed— you've even laid on it before. But you've never straddled him on it before. It's a position that makes your head spin a little, and you occupy yourself with kissing him again. His hands fit perfectly on your hips, but they don't stay there for long, tragically— they trail upwards, up your waist, to your back. To your shoulders, and then back down again. It's as if he just can't get enough. You can't either. You need more.
So, you tug at his shirt. He gets the message right away— hands scrambling to pull it up and over his head. He's still rather slim, but with a slight softness, mostly located in his midsection. There's a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, as well as the provocative happy trail leading down from his navel. You drag your eyes downward, admiring him, and then decide that you're wearing too much clothing. Your top comes off, dropped onto the floor near his.
Mike takes more time to admire you when your torso is completely bare. His hands are warm on your bare skin, and slightly rough. Like before, he's hesitant at first, but when you encourage him— either literally or with physical indications— he grows bolder. His stubble scratches gently against you when his lips find your collarbone.
You squirm a little, not even realizing it— and you feel him. Simultaneously, you both gasp. He's not fully there, but he's at least half-hard— and it can't be comfortable in those jeans.
"Should I—"
"Yeah—"
With steady fingers, you unbutton his fly, and then unzip him. It's a little awkward when he shimmies out of the jeans, and when you wriggle out of your bottoms— you both snicker a little, but he's back to comfortably breathless when you settle back onto his lap. Under normal circumstances, you would tease him again. And yet, you can't bring yourself to. Not right now, at least.
All you want to do is keep going.
You roll your hips, testing the waters. His breath audibly hitches, and his hands fly up to settle back on your hips. He looks up at you, eyes already half-lidded— and they close when you grind down again. And again. His lips are clumsier this time when you kiss him, but he still reciprocates all the same. The sensation of him directly underneath you like this is intoxicating. You can feel every little twitch and every little jolt.
"Fuck," he breathes, long and drawn-out, " God, I can— I can see the spot on your—"
"Yeah?" You encourage, grinding down again, drinking in his answering groan. "You like that?"
"Yes —"
"You want me to take 'em off?"
Mike's pupils are blown wide, even though his eyes are already dark as is in the dimness of the room. He nods, once, then twice. "Yes," he murmurs. "Please," he adds, for good measure.
He stares openly when you get off him, just enough to peel off your last remaining layer of clothing. And when you sit back down, well. It's obvious that you'll have to give him a second. "Can I," he says, finally, "can I touch you?" The way he's looking up at you again is just so sweet, so needy, that you consider saying no. Your throbbing core quickly shuts that idea down.
"Go on," you encourage.
He helps you move so he has easier access, and—
His fingertips find your slit, already wet for him.
"Look what you did to me," you murmur.
He visibly flushes— and then carefully works one finger into your slick heat. The feeling, combined with his thumb brushing against your clit— it's relief that you've needed this entire time, and you can't help but let a quiet sound escape your lips. It's apparently enough incentive for him to quicken his pace a little. Deliberately, he continues massaging your sensitive nub in a firm but easy pattern as he gently pushes a second finger inside you.
Mike may be out of practice, but evidently, he still knows what he's doing. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, some more open-mouthed than others. Crooking his fingers, he maintains his diligent rhythm. A thought floats through your mind, unbidden— he must have strong hands, if he's been able to keep up like this—
Two becomes three, and you're spreading your thighs a little wider for him. He's still transfixed, but speeds up at your urging, breath hot against the divot between your neck and shoulder. You chance a glance down, and you can see the visible outline of him through his boxers. You did that to him. He's desperate— for you.
"Mike," you gasp, "nnh—"
"Yeah, c'mon," he mouths, against your neck, "c'mon—" He's not letting up in the slightest, and when you tell him to, he speeds up again. He needs to see you cum just as much as you need to feel it. Your needs and wants are rapidly blending into one. You squeeze your eyes shut, but open them to look at him. His dark curls are a mess, his hand working tirelessly between your legs.
"Mike —"
He says your name in return, like he's the one in the vulnerable position.
"Mike , 'm gonna— 'm gonna—"
"Please," his breaths are ragged, debauched, "cum, please, c'mon, lemme see it—"
"Oh —"
The tension snaps, and you spasm around his fingers. Your hips twitch, and you moan, your mouth falling open as you ride out your orgasm. You're rising— falling — molten honey pooling in your core, before flowing throughout your body. And Mike keeps going throughout it all, letting you enjoy the sensations until you're fully satisfied.
Nearly boneless, you sag backward. His fingers, soaked with your glistening release, slip out of your cunt with a wet noise. He doesn't waste any time in bringing them up into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue— at the taste of you, he groans, even though it's muffled. Your mind takes a moment to catch up again with the world, but another thought manifests itself— how would he react, if you let him use his mouth on you? How would his head look between your thighs? He would be noisy, wouldn't he? Enthusiastic, pliant, and—
Your desire, although it waned for a short minute, comes back tenfold. But you take one look down again and— you can do that later. Right now, you want him inside you.
Mike lets you tug him down for another kiss. He lets you feel the worn fabric on his thighs, almost playfully. When you palm him through them— he hisses through his teeth, hypersensitive even though you've barely touched him yet. You're going to fix that, though. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down.
You were right. He's desperate. As soon as his overheated skin meets the cool air, he lets out another quiet hiss. And when you take him in hand—
"Mmh —" A firm stroke from base to tip, and you've already got him. He's average in length, but a little girthy. You know he'll be perfect. There's a little drop at the head of his cock, and you resist the urge to lick it off, focusing instead on warming him up a little. He whispers your name, once, when you pump up and down, twisting your wrist.
"Got a condom?" You ask, stilling for a second. His eyes snap to you.
"Oh my God, " he quickly mutters under his breath, before raising his volume, "uh, yeah, I think so. Lemme—" And he's already scrambling off the bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand with speed, but somehow simultaneously managing not to make much noise. He rifles through them, but soon emerges victoriously with what he was looking for. It's a little funny, how he doesn't waste any time in ripping it open and tossing the garbage into the mostly-overfull pail near his bed. Hastily, he rolls on the condom. You think he's expecting you to lay back or get up on your hands and knees so he can fuck you like that— you wouldn't be entirely opposed to it— but that's not what you want right now.
You place your hands on his chest and push him back down so he's sitting against the headboard. He goes without complaint, even shifting when he understands what you want to do. He's flushed almost down to his neck.
When you sink down on him in a smooth slide, still slick from earlier, you both moan. He sounds strained— he's biting his lower lip, squirming until he finally bottoms out. You have to take a moment to catch your breath, too; the fullness is just how you imagined, but it's so, so much, especially because of your lingering sensitivity.
"I'm not—" He audibly swallows, hands tightening on your waist when you move just a little, "oh, fuck, I'm not gonna— I'm not gonna last long." He's babbling a little. "You're tight, fuck."
You rock back and forth, once, and it's enough to force a choked noise from his throat. You watch his face, observing every little twitch, the clenching of his jaw. You can't hesitate for much longer, though— so you begin lifting yourself and dropping yourself down on his cock. Just in little movements at first, so you can get used to the feeling. His eyes squeeze shut—
"Look at me," you demand, and he does. He doesn't try and thrust up into you when you really start to move. Up and down, up and down, with lewd plaps that accompany your sounds; his grunts— you swear you hear him whimper . His eyelashes flutter open and closed, as he struggles to follow your command, wanting to be good. For you. Even though you can see his thighs flexing as he holds everything back. You ride him for all you're worth.
True to his words, you can tell when he gets close. Maybe he's been on edge this entire time. You thread your fingers through his hair— he buries his face into the crook of your neck, maybe out of embarrassment. You can feel how flushed he is, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Your muscles are aching, but you're determined to make him cum. You're determined to do this for him.
He says your name, but it's more of a whine. "Please — I'm gonna— I can't — "
"Go on," you pant, "you can. Don't hold back." Your arms are wrapped around his neck, now, holding him tight; just like his arms around your waist. The contact is almost too much, but somehow it's still not enough, despite him being inside you. "Go on," you repeat, after he whines again, the sound sending white-hot heat straight to your core. "Cum."
Mike twitches, and you can feel him pulse— the sound he lets out is high-pitched, muffled into your skin. You slow your movements— the aftershocks of his orgasm last longer than yours. It might've been a little while for you, but it had definitely been longer for him.
He doesn't let go, even after his breathing's slowed down.
Gently, you pull his head back so you can look at him. He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes. The kisses you press to his cheeks and forehead make him scrunch up his face.
"Hey," he rasps, "I gotta throw out the condom. Hang on."
"Yeah, okay."
When he slips out of you, you both sigh a little. With unsteady fingers, he ties up the condom before chucking it into the pail.
The sheets are cool on your skin when he pulls them over you both. The room reeks of sex, but both of you are too exhausted to care. When you turn to lay on your side, he's behind you, throwing an arm over your waist. Tugging you closer. Almost absentmindedly, there's a kiss pressed to the back of your head.
"Thank you," he mumbles.
You stare at the far wall, unable to close your eyes just yet.
"For what?"
"For—" A pause. "For everything, I guess."
The awkwardness is back. But you let it in. You smile.
"You're welcome."
He doesn't respond, but shuffles nearer, chest pressed up against your back. It's not long before you're both fast asleep.
mike schmidt x f!reader
word count; 2,573
warnings; smut, no plot, just porn :D
summary; there was nothing in the world she wanted more than mike schmidt. but what were the chances he'd ever make a move on her?
She wanted Mike Schmidt.
Don’t get her wrong, she absolutely adored Abby, she was sweet, funny, and overall not a hard kid to take care of. But she knew all too well what her intentions were when she agreed to take up the babysitting job— how could she say no when he looked at her like that with those big, deep brown eyes?
It was another late night spent at the Schmidt house— Mike had just gotten himself a new job with unholy hours, some late night security gig he had no choice but to take. Her mouth opened in a yawn and through her bleary vision, she blinked down to the watch on her wrist.
4:30 AM. Mike wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half or so.
She sighed and threw her head back against the cushions, staring absentmindedly at the television as some old cartoon played, audio soft and muffled. She wasn’t sure why she even bothered trying to stay up for Mike— she’d been babysitting for him for months, (without pay, might she add) and still, neither he nor she had made any moves. She wasn’t even sure if he ever even intended to make a move on her.
But she was just so certain that he felt at least some sort of attraction towards her. She could see it in the way he looked at her, how his eyes would absentmindedly trail down her body against his better judgment, how he’d pull the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth while he did. She could see it in the way his body would react when she came too close, like when she gave him a handshake or playfully shoved his shoulder.
It was the same way she reacted when he was close.
Surely it couldn’t all be for nothing?
Her eyelids were falling heavy against her eyes and she slowly slumped further into the cushions of the couch, hands tightening around the blanket around her body. Sleep was so close that she could reach out and feel it, and she would’ve slipped into the arms of slumber if it hadn’t been for the opening and closing of the front door.
She grumbled and furrowed her brows down at her watch.
4:35 AM. Mike wasn’t supposed to be home yet.
At the notion, she jolted and snapped her head towards the entrance, her heart thrumming against her chest as she prepared herself for the sight of a total stranger, ready to make a run straight for Abby’s room. She blinked and narrowed her eyes at the dark silhouette of the figure as it hung its coat on the rack bolted on the wall.
“Sorry. S’ just me.”
She knew that voice. It was a voice she always dreamed about, a voice belonging to someone she’d seen practically everyday.
“Mike?” Her voice came out rough, having not spoken for hours, not since Abby had gone to bed. “What are you doing home so early?” She asked as she pushed herself further up the sofa while Mike made his way towards the recliner, wiping a hand down his face before plopping down into the seat. She could only make out his face through the light from the television but even then, she could sense something was off.
Mike tapped his fingers against the armrest of the recliner, “I… I just… needed to leave… I guess,” he replied and she frowned, scooting to the far side of the couch closest to him. “Is… is everything alright?” She questioned, unsure whether or not he needed consoling. Mike leaned further back into his seat and let his eyelids flutter closed, inhaling deep through his nostrils.
“Just… is Abby asleep?” He finally asked after a moment and she nodded, humming. “She went down earlier than usual. Actually managed to get her to eat something,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile but quickly faltering again when she realized Mike wasn’t going to reciprocate. He looked almost… distraught.
Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she pondered her options. She’d known Mike for some time but even then, she still knew little to nothing about him. He slept a lot, that was for sure. And he loved his little sister and was trying so hard to be exactly the type of person she needed. But she knew nothing about him, Mike Schmidt himself. She didn’t know what he did in his free time, what he liked to eat, if he had hobbies, nothing.
Hell, she’d spent so much time fantasizing about him and filling in all the holes herself, she hardly even acknowledged that he could be somebody entirely else. She didn’t know the first thing about him.
But she could learn to try.
She leaned forward, a steady hand warily finding his on the armrest of the recliner and she flinched when Mike snapped his eyelids open, looking between her and their touching hands. Their gazes surged into one another and she made no moves, as if seeking any sign that she should stop.
Mike’s heart thrummed so hard inside his chest, it was a miracle that she couldn’t hear it. She looked at him as if she were asking permission— permission to what, he hadn’t even the slightest clue. But in spite of the voices inside of his head telling him he shouldn’t, that he shouldn’t let her, that he was wrong for her, he did. How could he say no when she looked at him like that, as if he were the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes upon?
His silence gave her the confidence to let her fingers creep further down to the back of his hand, flipping it around until they rested against the heel of his palm. Slowly, she soothed the tips of her fingers up his palm until they fell between the cracks of his, letting her digits curl around his knuckles. Mike shuddered at the touch and let his own fingers press down against hers and he watched as she raised their intertwined hands to her mouth, their gazes molded together as she pressed her lips against his skin. His lips trembled as they fell open and he narrowed his eyes, clinging onto the last bit of restraint he had left.
“You can relax with me, Mike,” she whispered against his skin, pressing another soft kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger. “You don’t have to worry while I’m around.”
Mike pressed his lips back together and fought back the urge to groan at her words, his eyes wandering from their hands, down her arm, to her chest where it pressed against the edge of the sofa. His breath shuddered when he exhaled and the rubber band stretched inside of him finally released and with it, the last of his restraint.
Fuck it, he thought. It’s been long enough.
Mike tugged her closer by the hand and her lids widened, a squeal slipping from her lips, in which he was swift to eat right up, pressing his mouth against hers. With his hand not intertwined with hers, he gripped her hip, working his way up to her waist to squeeze. The sound she made was muffled inside their admittedly messy kiss and he pulled her even closer, her knees having nowhere to go but on the outside of his thighs.
Mike groaned and pulled away to catch his breath as her hips ground down against his, already feeling frustrated with the growing erection in his jeans. He blinked up at the woman on top of him, her arms thrown over his shoulders, her chest heaving as she chased air back into her lungs. She stared down at him with hazy irises, still bleary from lack of sleep.
“Sorry,” Mike finally managed to breathe out, his palms resting on either of her thighs. “Probably a little much, wasn’t it?”
He watched as the corners of her lips curved into a grin and she chuckled breathlessly, shaking her head. “Not enough,” she tittered as she surged her lips back into his, one of her hands on his shoulders slithering their way into his mess of dark tendrils, fingers curling and tugging at his roots. He hissed inside her mouth and dug his fingernails into her skin, a whimper falling from her lips, allowing him to take control of the situation.
He pressed himself forward and reached for the end of her t-shirt and she briefly broke away to allow the fabric up and over her head, her own fingers already working at the buckle of his belt. Mike leaned forward to pepper kisses all across the tops of her breasts and she threw her head back as he took over in undoing his belt, ripping it from his loops and throwing open the button and zipper of his jeans.
She clambered off of him as he raised his hips to tug his pants and boxers down just enough to allow his erection to spring free of its restraints, feeling her stomach do a somersault at the sight as she stripped herself of her own shorts and panties. Mike fought the urge to wrap his hands around his cock as she reached behind her back to undo the clasps of her bra and time seemed to slow as the straps fell from her shoulders, the lave toppling to the floor altogether.
He swore he could feel his mouth water and never before this moment had he wanted something, or someone, more. He blinked up at her, following her gaze down to his lap and at his erection that stood tall, waiting for her, dripping with pre-cum.
Mike cocked an eyebrow, “you just gonna stand there or you gonna take it?” He asked, voice low and husky and fuck, she thought she’d drop dead right then and there. Still, this was a dangerous game they were playing. “What about Abby?” She whispered, glancing towards the hallway where Abby’s room was. “What if she wakes up?”
Mike pressed his lips together and bucked his hips, raising a leg to softly give her calf a kick. “You can be quiet, right?” He murmured in question and she felt herself clench from his voice alone. Here Mike Schmidt was, cock out and erect, all because of her. This was something she had only dreamed of— never did she think that this would become reality.
Mike cocked his eyebrow again and she shook herself from her thoughts, taking his hand as he guided her back onto his lap. Her body shuddered and her bones rattled as she began to sink herself down, jolting when the tip brushed against her cunt, teeth sinking down into the plush of her bottom lip to contain her sounds.
“It’s okay,” Mike whispered. “I got you.”
Her eyes about rolled in the back of her head at that as his hands kneaded at the flesh of either of her hips, guiding her further down his length, making sure to go agonizingly slow to ensure she felt every single fucking inch of cock inside of her. Tears brimmed the outskirts of her eyelids as she finally sat still on his lap, filled to the brim with cock. Mike let her head fall down against the curve of his shoulder, burying her nose into the crook of his neck as she allowed time to adjust to his size, simultaneously trying to keep her sounds to a minimum.
“You’re so tight,” Mike’s breath shuddered in her ear and his voice made goosebumps litter her skin, his fingertips like the icy breath of a ghost against her back. “You think you can handle moving now?” He asked in a whisper against the shell of her ear and she nodded, letting him grab her thighs and push her further up his cock until just the head remained. She cried against his neck when he sank her all the way back down his length, the lewd noise of their wet skin slapping together making her clench around him. “Fff… uuck,” he dragged his curse out as he snapped his hips up against her.
“Shit!” She gasped as he thrusted again and again and again. And she let him. She let him use her in whatever way he pleased.
“Gonna be good for me?” He muttered next to her ear. “Gonna let me take care of you, hm?” She nodded, bobbing her head up and down against his shoulder as he snapped his hips up to hers again and again, daring the coil inside her belly to snap. “Think you can handle it?” He asked again and she nodded once more, crying and biting down on his collar. “Yes!” She cried, fortunately muffled against his skin.
So Mike thrusted again, harder and harder, chasing that high, that release he so desperately needed. He could tell she was close— it’d probably been so long since she’d been stuffed by cock like this. She’d probably been waiting for this moment just as long as he has.
With the pad of his thumb, he pressed down against her aching bud and Mike could feel a fresh new set of tears soak his skin as she cried, bucking her hips into his touch. His thrusts were as sloppy as they were powerful and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
“Mmm… Mike… I’m… I’m gonna…” she hardly managed to stutter out, slowly feeling the coil inside her stomach as it began to unravel.
“Yeah?” Mike said, his other hand wrapped around her neck and pushing her forehead down against his, gazing up at her closed eyelids. He rolled his head against hers, “look at me,” he breathed out and watched as she slowly fluttered her lids back open, just as more fat tears beaded down her cheeks. The sight was enough to get him to teeter on the edge himself.
“Gonna come?” He asked and she nodded, sweat-slicked forehead lolling against his. He nodded too, already feeling her release around him as she spawned around his cock, relying solely on him and his body to keep herself up. She buried her face in the crook of his neck again as she whined and cried, Mike’s thrusts speeding up as he gave himself that final push he needed to send himself reeling, spiraling and shaking with the force of his release.
“Fuck,” he growled into the skin just below her ear, squeezing his eyelids shut tighter as he willed himself to keep his sounds on the low, for the sake of his little sister sleeping just in the other room.
Silence fell over Mike and the babysitter for a good, long moment as they both recovered from their highs, chasing air back into their lungs as the realization of what they had just done began to sink in. Mike should be mortified— she was his sister’s babysitter, he doesn’t have time for this, she doesn’t deserve him, he shouldn't have done this.
But the woman in his lap settled herself closer into him, nuzzling her nose against the crook of his neck, her lips like a crescent moon against his skin as she placed a soft kiss to his flesh there.
“I hope you’re okay, Mike,” she whispered and he threw his head back, an arm thrown around her body as he stared up at the ceiling. How could he push her away now?
a/n; so yeah!!! i watched fnaf on friday and it kinda sorta just brought back my whole josh hutcherson phase so enjoy!! this was just a quick little something i wrote up and there's like no plot at all and not proofread LMAO
Summary: You haven't felt very appreciated by your (serial killer) boyfriend recently, so he shows you how much he really cares.
WARNINGS: 18+, angst, implied smut, language
From the moment that you met Dexter, you knew he wasn't like everyone else. He can be a little socially inept at times, as well as insensitive. However, at the same time, he's incredibly loving, charming, and funny. You love him and all his quirks. Compared to the men you’ve been with in the past, he’s a saint. He's respectful, kind, and you actually feel safe with him.
But at the end of the day, he’s still a man.
He has a hard time seeing things from your perspective, which can cause a lot of arguments, that are almost always one-sided. You try not to nag but it's hard feeling like the only one putting in effort. He often forgets the things that you tell him. You figure he doesn't find importance in the same things that you do. Lately you've been feeling a little neglected. Monday you asked him to come over for dinner, but he said he was busy. Wednesday you asked him to go lunch with you on his lunch break, he said he was busy yet again. You had a movie date planned for Friday; he bailed last minute because he was...busy.
You always get excited thinking he’s going to say yes, planning cute outfits, spending time on your makeup and hair, all for him to say no. You end up sitting on your couch in front of the tv, with a pint of ice cream instead.
Finally you convinced him to come over tonight. You would love for it to be a relaxing and romantic night, but you know you need to have a talk with him. You hate having these talks because it can feel like talking to a brick wall at times. You know he means well; he just doesn't see it the same way or doesn't even mean to make these mistakes in the first place. But it is hurting you, and you're tired of feeling like your boyfriend doesn't want you.
Of course, he won't be here until late. He has to "take care of a few things first". You knew blood-spatter analysis was a complicated job, but you didn't think it would require this much overtime...
Even though you're slightly mad at him, you don't want him to starve so you make dinner for the two of you. As you're setting the table you hear your apartment door unlock.
In walks Dexter, with his adorable face and dorky smile. You may be irritated but you can't help but smile at the sight of him.
"I made dinner, would you like a beer?" you ask
"Sure" he says with a soft smile
He comes over to give you a kiss on the forehead. You make a half-ass smile in response. When you don't kiss him back or even look at him, he can tell something is wrong.
"What did I do?" he frowns
You immediately sigh
"Dexter, I...I just feel like you don't care. About me, about us."
"What? That's not true at all, why do you think that?" He exclaims
"You've been so distant recently. Gone all the time, always bailing on our dates, always busy, you hardly call or text! I just wish you would put in a little more effort, that's all." You can feel tears begin to form; you didn't realize you were this upset about it.
"Y/n, you know I'm busy with this case, they just really need me right now." He's looking at you, looking through you. You can't read any emotion or remorse on his face. This only makes you want to cry more.
"It feels like I don't mean anything to you! I feel like you don't want me anymore." You can feel your face getting hot and your chest tightening. "Fuck, do not cry right now" you think.
You bring your hands to your face, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to ward off the tears.
"What do you mean? Of course you matter to me; I've just been busy." he has a look of confusion, like he can't understand why you would feel this way. He's here now, isn't that all that matters?
"Well, it just doesn't feel like you mean that."
"Well I do, you're my girlfriend, of course I want you." he sighs
"Then prove it! Show me that you mean it." You look into his eyes, you think you finally see it, regret, remorse, guilt.
He brings his hand up to your cheek, he finally sees how upset you are. You sink into his touch, stepping closer to him.
"How? Change? How do you want me to show you that I want you? That I care?" He's looking into your eyes, brows furrowed.
Even with all the hurt and anger, all you want to do in this moment is kiss him. Feel his body against yours. Not only has it been long since you've had any quality time or even a deep conversation, but you also haven't had sex in weeks. You feel guilty for thinking that in this moment, but you just want to feel close to him, connected.
You place your hand over his
"Stay the night. Be with me... Fuck me, like you mean it. Like you want me, like you care."
SURPRISE BITCHESSSS! I told y'all I was on my writing GRIND. If you want a part 2 lmk! Someone return the favor and write Dex fics for me please and ty <3
nightmares - you and robb have don’t get along at all. one night you have a nightmare leaves you aching to run into his arms since he the only one awake
queen of the north - robb, his mother, and other northman manage to escape to red wedding. they travel across the sea and end up in the east. they comes across a kingdom and the lady of khisfire. robb convinces her to let them stay for a while until the time is right to leave. over a few months they both fall in love and reader ends up pregnant after one night. after robb gets his revenge and reclaim winterfell. y/n younger brother takes over khisfire as she becomes queen in the north.
insecurities - when you, a swordfighter loyal to the starks, follow robb to war, many of the soldiers manage you feel insecure about yourself. robb steps in and comforts you.
dance - imagine going to a feast at winterfell. you've been told that you must go so you can wed robb stark, someone you only met once when you were children. when you arrive, you slip past all the pleasantries and hide in your room, terrified of this man - boy, in your eyes - and what he might be like. nighttime comes, and after the food, everyone starts dancing. standing awkwardly to the side, a very handsome man asks you to dance. after spending all night together, you finally introduce yourselves
baby talk - imagine robb stark talking to his child in babytalk and making airplane noises when feeding them.
reunited - reader being 2nd oldest stark child and her being taken by ramsey instead of sansa and a lot of angst? eventually theon wants to escape with her and they make it back to winterfell and she reunites with her mother and robb who took back the castle?
wanted - reader is a young servant in winterfell, who takes care of ned stark’s children. while robb is tempted by this girl, robb is true and dear to his wife and would not have these thoughts about another woman. would he?
Hello can u please do a Robb stark smut where they r in his tent at war they r married and it’s like cute playful like a break from reality and the war going on they they r just some teenagers in love
Robb Stark*I Miss You
Pairing: Robb x F!Reader
Summary: Robb's wife misses spending quality time with her husband when the war is raging and draws him back into bed
The days were long, and the nights were not much better. The camp was largely asleep apart from some men keeping watch and of course your husband. Robb was sat at a table looking over battle plans as the candles flickered, lighting the dim tent. Despite your pleas for him to sleep he was still awake. You rolled over onto your front to watch as he studied the paper, how his jaw line looked in the soft candlelight and how his curls perfectly framed his face. His soft lips were slightly parted though occasionally he would nip the bottom one between his teeth in concentration.
You were perched half up on your arms, your head tilted as you admired your husband who eventually shot you a side way glance, “Are you okay love?” he asked, his eyes flickering back to the page.
“I miss you,”
Robb lifted his head, his eyebrows knitted in confusion, “I’m right here sweetheart,”
You ignored his words as you began to sit up more, “I miss you,” you repeated.
This time Robb turned in his chair to face you, ignoring the battle plans for a moment, “I’m right here love,” he said again but you grinned as you finally had his attention.
Your feet quickly padded across the tent floor to stand behind him, your arms draping over his shoulders and your nose nuzzling into his neck causing the boy to laugh, “I miss you,” you pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.
“I’m right here dove,” Robb giggled, his hands moving to pull you around and into his lap straddling him. “How can you miss me when you have me?” he asked and you pouted, your head falling onto his chest. Robb laughed as he began to stroke your hair, “I’ll be done soon,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your head.
You sighed, pressing yourself closer to your husband, his arms wrapping around you tighter, “I just wish for five minutes where we didn’t have to think about this war,” you whispered. You felt Robbs chest heave as he let out a heavy sigh.
Robbs hands found your face, pulling it out of his chest. His hands held your cheeks as he forced your eyes to meet his, “I miss you too,” Robb confessed, his thumb stroking over your cheek. You looked into his eyes which were swelling with emotion.
For a moment you just wanted to be a husband and wife not a king or queen. You leaned in, pressing your lips against his as you had done a hundred times, but this time was like a race you were desperate to win. Robb’s hands fell from your cheeks to your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze, which caused you to giggle into the kiss. Robb couldn’t stop his own laughter at your giggles.
His lips were curled into a perfect smile as he pressed messy kisses to yours, teeth clashing. Your hands trailed up to his curls, getting lost in the masses, “You have such pretty hair,” you smiled into the kiss.
Robb grinned as he stole another kiss, “Not as pretty as you love,” he praised. “You happy you got my attention now love?” he chuckled.
“Very,” you chirped as you got off his lap.
Robb quickly leapt from his chair, catching up and grabbing you around your waist from behind, “Where do you think you’re going?” His teeth nipped your ear before his lips fell to your neck. You giggled as his nose nuzzled into your skin and his teeth left tiny nips along your neck. “You wanted my attention now you’ve got it,” Robb spun you around to face him, your hands grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself.
His lips returned to your neck trailing kisses to your collar bones. You felt his smile in his kisses and laughed from the feeling. “Robb,” you said as you began to tug on his tunic, “I think you might be overdressed,”
Robb laughed as he pulled back from your skin, his eyes roaming your frame. A thin shift covered your body though did nothing to hide it while he still had his trousers, tunic, and undershirt on. “You think love? Maybe you could help me,” his eyes had the same spark in them they had on your wedding night.
You made quick work of his tunic before turning your attention to his trousers, helping him loosen them and letting him shrug them off. Robb was nothing but gentle with you which is why you let out a small yelp when he pushed you by your shoulders to fall on the bed of furs. “Hey!” you whined as you put on your best angry face.
It did not fool Robb who stood above you laughing, “Sorry sweetheart,” Robb quickly pulled his undershirt over his head, now fully exposed, before he began to crawl over you, “Let me make it up to you,” Robb was now settled above you, his lips falling to press kisses under your jaw as he began to trail them down your body.
You hummed as you pretending to consider his idea but giggled when his hand grazed your thigh, leading a feather light trail up your skin making it tingle at his touch. His hand arrived at your breast which he took into his hand and squeezed. You couldn’t stop the whine that fell from your lips.
His mouth had now reached your breasts, his path interrupted by your shift. “May I?” Robb asked as his fingers trailed the neckline of the fabric. You sat up and allowed him to pull it off your body, a blush flushing your face as his eyes roamed your body, “You’re so perfect,” Robb said before his eyes returned to your face. He laughed when he noticed your shy attempts to avoid his gaze, “We’re married and you’re still so shy,” Robbs finger began to trail around your nipple that hardened more under his touch.
“Shut up,” you giggled, pushing his chest but he didn’t even budge, “You’re so mean to me,”
Robb rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to your pouted lips, “and you’re so dramatic love,” he teased, his lips falling to capture your other nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirled round the perked bud, and you moaned at the feeling.
His other hand began to pinch and roll your other nipple between his fingers. Your hand reached for his hair, gently running through it before gripping his curls when his teeth began to graze your nipple, a wet patch growing in between your thighs, “Fuck Robb,” you moaned.
He released your nipple from his mouth with a pop, a teasing grin placed on his lips, “Yes love?” he asked.
Your hands gripped his curls tighter, “I need you,”
Robb’s spare hand trailed your body, his fingers leaving goosebumps on your skin, before he began to run up a finger up your folds. You moaned at the sensation as Robb dipped his fingers in, “I love how wet you get for me,” he praised, his lips falling back to kiss your breast as you moaned, “and those pretty sounds you’re making,”
Finally, he slid two fingers into your wet core causing your breath to catch in your throat as he stretched you. He placed sloppy kisses to your breast and neck, leaving hickeys below where he knew your dress would cover. Once your body relaxed, he began to slowly curl his fingers, moving them gently in and out of your soaked cunt.
“You like that?” Robb asked in between leaving love bites to your chest.
you felt your stomach flutter and begin to tense up as he repositioned his hand so his thumb would begin to massage your cunt. “Yes,” you whined, “Please don’t stop,” your eyes fluttered shut as you let the sensations overtake you. His slow pumping and his assault on your chest left you a moaning mess under his touch. When his lips captured your nipple again, sucking gently on the peaked bud, you felt your cunt begin to squeeze around his fingers.
Robb ignored the cramp that began in his hand as he felt your body tense, your walls squeezing him. He tried to muffle the whiny moan that rippled from your mouth with his own lips, groaning into the kiss as your walls squeezed him tighter. The wave washed over you hard as you came crashing down around his fingers.
You whined, lips chasing his, when he removed his from yours. Robb kissed your throat before his eyes fell back on your face. You were breathless beneath him, and he enjoyed every moment, “I want to fuck you so bad,” he confessed.
Your eyelashes batter for a moment before your lips reached up to pull his into a brief but hungry kiss, “Do it then,” you said,
One of Robb’s hands shot to grab your hip, the other grabbing the base of his cock as he began to line up to your entrance that was already prepared for him. He ran his tip up the length of your folds, slowly pushing in and stretching you more than his fingers had. There was a slight burn, but it was softened by his affectionate kisses to your cheeks and forehead.
Robb paused for a moment; his eyes screwed shut as he eased into you. He held himself in place, his eyes opening and looking to you for permission. You pulled his head down to yours, capturing his lips, as you began to grind your hips up into his. As soon as Robb had your permission, he began to roll his hips to fill you deeper, pumping his cock into you at a slow and steady pace while keeping his lips on yours, his tongue exploring your mouth.
You moaned into the kiss as his cock filled you completely. “Faster,” you panted, breaking the kiss.
Robb didn’t need to be told twice as his fingers dug into your hips, biting at your flesh, as he quickened his thrusts which send a wave of moans through your throat. Soft grunts fell from Robbs lips in between compliments and praises the noises you made and how you felt around him.
Robb removed one hand to lean over you, grabbing a pillow to shove under your hips. He gripped your hips, pulling them up slightly, and his cock began to hit new deeper positioning causing a white-hot feeling to spread through your stomach. This time Robb didn’t attempt to conceal your moans. He used one hand to hold himself up, licking the fingers on the other one to rub sloppy circles into your clit.
The feeling in your stomach grew at his touch and your fingers began to claw lines down his strong muscular back and shoulders. Robb sped up more as his peak approached causing you to grip his shoulders for some type of stability. He did his best to hold his own off as he chased yours.
As he felt your walls clench around his cock he almost came on the spot, “Fuck love if you don’t cum I will,” he groaned as his head fell into the crook of your shoulder. The knot had returned to your stomach, and it came undone when he his lips found your neck once again. Robb managed to ride out your peak before spilling inside you, his body heaving as he came. He shuddered as he emptied himself, his body tensing, before almost collapsing on top of you in a sweaty mess.
Robb managed to roll off you, both of you now on your backs staring at the ceiling, “That was amazing,” he panted. You nodded, equally out of breath from it all.
You took his hand into yours, raising it to your lips to kiss the back of it. “I should miss you more often,”
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