One Thing About Jj, Hes A Heavy Sleeper. Hell Sleep Through Just About Anything (see Above), Except

˚❀˚ one thing about jj, he’s a heavy sleeper. he’ll sleep through just about anything (see above), except for when you try to weasel out of his arms in the middle of the night. even then, he doesn't wake up all the way, just curling his heavy arm around your waist to pull you back in. ˚❀༉‧₊˚.

as a feminist i think girls should suck each other’s tits more

OHMYGOD😵‍💫

random combination, but pogue!bunny!reader and dbf!john b. her father doesn’t talk to her anymore since becoming a stripper, but her dads best friend john b likes to make sure she’s all cared for. financially, sure — he’ll buy her lunch from time to time. emotionally, definitely. someone needs to hold that girl. sexually? of course. who else is gonna make that sweet girl feel good? what if no one satisfies her and she resorts to sleeping with those scary men from the club? not on john b’s watch.

however, he felt like a creep everytime it happened. it was like clockwork, your sweet figure on the porch of the chateau at a ridiculous hour with your stripper heels in your hand and a duffle bag full of money.

“look you cannot keep just… walking around at night with this much money on you, jesus.” he pants, already exasperated as he pulls you inside, looking around to check you weren’t followed. your shoulders are deflated and your face is all pouty and tired, so he drops it — but makes a mental note to bring it up again later.

“just needed you.” your voice cracks and suddenly his brows are furrowed, lines of age and wear that he’s had for years deepening on his forehead as he whips his head around to you after locking the door for the night. “hey? heyheyheyhey. c’mere, sweetheart.” he’s immediately pulling you to his warm chest, rocking you on the spot as you instantly melt against him, the thud of your money bag dropping beside your feet along with your discarded heels. he nods to himself, walking you to his bedroom. “i know. iiiii know what you need, come on bubba.”

the cap that was on his head sits on the edge of the bed now, about to tip onto the floor as he allows you to run your long manicured fingernails over his scalp— gasping and mewling wetly at the ceiling as he sucks on your clit, thick fingers burrowed in your glossy hole. “mhm, mhm…” he responds to your moans, voice deep and raspy.

you squirm, barely able to form a sentence but pull it together enough to squeak out a “s’too — s’too much your beard ‘s makin’ me all sore jom’bee!” through tears of overstimulation and pleasurable pain. he responds to this by pushing your thighs up and more open with his hands, uncharacteristically cruel. he always got a little mean when you were close.

“you’re okay pretty baby. god, who made you this wet hm? you weren’t dancing at the club like this, right?” his voice is breathy and a little insecure for a man of his age but you don’t pick up on it. you don’t even seem to really pick up on anything really — including how he can’t seem to connect with girls his own age, spending all his time and affections on his friends daughter. he likes that about you. you don’t see him as pathetic as he feels sometimes.

“mm—mm, jus’ for you— s’pussies all wet just for you!” you pant, feeling yourself get closer. that satisfies him for now, nodding to himself all serious before glancing up at you in concentration, curling his fingers.

“okay. good girl. it’s okay, you can cum for dad.”

it was always the nickname that made him feel the sickest. yet it was the nickname that got him the hardest, and made you cum the loudest— so oh well.

sorry for how I acted when there were multiple noises happening at the same time

rafes shouting voice is so hot im sorry . “im living under the same roof as a THIEF!” im going to fucking bite you

BLUE COLLAR RAFE OHHHHH I NEEDED THIS

𓊆ྀིhave been thinking about small town carnival dates with blue collar!rafe like crazy… and how much he loves his babydoll…𓊇ྀི

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. short ‘n naughty f & cutesy!reader, fooling around in public, daddy kink.

just walking around in your little shorts that he keeps trying to yank down, eating your cotton candy ‘n sugar covered funnel cake with the stuffed bear he won you tucked under your arm.

“now y’have someone to keep you company while i work, right?” he said while handing you the pink bear you wanted, teasingly waving it in your face before you snatched it up ‘n rolled your eyes.

the heat is harsh given it’s mid july in north carolina, but it’s easier to endure when you two share freshly-squeezed strawberry lemonade flavored kisses whenever possible. all while you look at him with heart eyes, adoring the way he lets you cling to him.

whether it’s his arm or his shirt, he always makes sure there’s no chance in hell he’ll lose his baby in the crowds.

as the sun sets, you realize your little day out is coming to an end. it takes everything in you not to pout— you know rafe hates when you do since he works so hard to give you everything you have.

“had so much fun today, rafey…” you tug his arm a bit, trying your best not to sound whiney, “but we haven’t been on the ferris wheel yet, y’know…”

“alright, baby.” rafe can’t argue with such a simple request.

he’s not a monster, however he does have his conditions— “but we gotta get back home right after. got work early in the morning, sweetheart. you know that.”

“i know, i know.”

so you two end up on the ferris wheel. so many feet up that you can see every single light and bit of bright neon below you. from the food stands to the rides ‘n games. your tennis shoe covered feet are in rafe’s lap, while he rubs your calves and thighs— taking in the real view, which is you clutching your new favorite stuffie to your chest, face illuminated with splotches of different colors and your eyes fixed on the scene below you two.

he loves you more than he can stand.

maybe that’s why his hand goes a little farther than it should. his digits end up pressing against the front of your shorts, daring to rub over your clit through the material… only after squeezing up your thighs enough to make your breathing all huffy, of course.

your head finally snaps towards him— “daddy, we can’t here…”

he pouts back at you, “can touch what’s mine, can’t i?”

at that your knees spread a part a little wider, making room for his hand. he hums in approval, and huffs out a laugh when your thighs jolt as he applies just enough pressure to have you softly mewling.

“if you can cum f’me by the time this ride’s over, maybe we can stay out a little later— how’s that sound, babydoll?”