i really hope this reaches the right audience bc we need more BOTs content on this site im obsessed with them includes johnny, gibs, joey, pat, and hugh
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synopsis: your day goes from bad to worse when you unexpectedly get your period.
pairing: johnny kavanagh x reader
warnings: reader on her period. period pain, cramps, bleeding through clothes. kavanagh parents make an appearance. cuddling. fluffy ending. written with fem!reader in mind.
author’s note: a longer one, enjoy. also not so subtly snuck in edel and john because they’re my tried and true. photos i use are not in any way descriptive of reader, only descriptive of the scenario.
word count: 2.0k
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if the constant cramps in your abdomen weren’t a sign, you didn’t know what was.
your goddamn period on this most beautiful school day filled with rowdy teenagers and a persistent, pulsating headache.
by the time lunch rolled around, you were completely checked out, not eating nor studying for your upcoming quiz in biology.
“baby,” broken out of your stupor by johnny.
considerate, caring, beautiful. johnny.
his hair mused up and just messy enough, tie a little askew, and sneakers a bit shiny from morning practice in the rain.
“johnny,” you groan. miserably flopping your head onto the lunch table and closing your eyes.
a small reprieve to your current dreadful existence.
“you’ve gotta eat something.” he sits to your right and pats your back periodically.
“i’m nauseous, do you really want me to throw up right now?” not even attempting to lift up you head.
you knew he’d be watching with a hint of distain and concern in those eyes. ones that would make you fold under any other circumstances, but right now you cannot be bothered with johnny kavanagh’s nutrition rants.
he then moves to different means.
wicked bugger attempts coercion and bribery.
“we can have a sleepover tonight. watch a movie, stay in, cuddle. the whole deal, just please…” he’s unfairly convincing.
“get on your knees, why don’t ya?” snark was your only defense against his very great argument. maybe he’ll lay off it through a sexual innuendo.
“just this chicken baby, you need your protein! especially this week.” he sighs, fork hanging in the air like an abandoned airplane.
“johnny, please not right now, i’m seriously not hungry, and lunch is almost over anyways.” taking your bag and getting up for your next class.
“can you check me? my cramps have been intense..” and now your shoulders hurt from your backpack and your head from the perpetual hoots and chatter of students.
he leans over and presumably scans at your arse for visible blood.
he doesn’t come short.
“honey, hold on.” his face takes a serious turn. “your trousers are bled through, do you have a pad on?” ocean eyes that see no wrong in this situation make you all the more irritated.
“of course i’m wearing a bleeding pad johnny, what do you take me for?” he doesn’t deserve your frustrations but takes them all the same.
“let’s go to the toilet. come on, you’re not staying like that for another two hours.” he grabs your hand and walks out of the cafeteria.
“is it really that bad?” half-whining.
“do you want me to tell you the truth or something sugar coated?” tilting his head down to you as you link arms in the hallway.
“oh shut up, i’ve had enough of this damn cycle! i’m getting my tubes tied first thing in uni!”
“i’m right behind you, baby. your arse looks like a saw movie.” his lip takes an upward tilt at his own joke. ugh.
“oh that was dead funny. keep up those jokes and we’ll see who looks like a saw movie.” you deadpan.
“sorry, baby. i thought i was lightening the mood.”
“lad, i regret to inform you, a comedic route isn’t in your future.” you mockingly frown up at him.
“tough crowd. i find my jokes quite amusing.” smiling down at you, brow quirked.
“here we are,” turning to the toilet with less dignity than you started out with today. you look back at him holding a tommen sweater. the sweater that sat on his person a few moments ago.
“are you sure? overtop my horror movie knickers?” your eyebrow raised.
“well of course, m’lady. i live to serve ya.” jokingly bowing he offers the oversized comfy and beautifully scented sweater. smelling like the washing liquid edel no doubt uses, dark enough to not show bleed any red, and embroidered with the tommen college emblem.
“you are a true white knight. cheers!” snatching the sweater and bolting into a stall.
—
the quiz was fine. good even, considering your menstrual cycle. what wasn’t, however, was the state of your stomach.
the bell ring signaling the end of the school day was heaven on earth.
johnny was already in his heated car by the time you came out of the main doors.
“hey, how are you feeling?” always the provider type.
“johnny, please just take me home.” reclining the passenger seat and curling into the fetal position, the cramps were full force.
“i’m so sorry baby, wish i could do more…” his frown is evident but you have no energy to comfort him because you did in fact feel like absolute shit.
—
at least sleeping put you out of your misery.
however, the solace didn’t last long as you reentered the land of the living to johnny picking you up bridal style. specifically him attempting to be gentle and quiet and helpful and multitasking with all the bags.
he unfortunately failed at the quiet part as you woke up anyway.
he expertly unlocked the front door to the kavanagh household and made his way inside.
“how was school, kids?” john attempts to make conversation, but is quickly hushed by his wife.
“can’t you see they can’t talk right now?” she all but hisses at her husband.
“i’d have to agree with ma. she’s not feeling well — time of the month ‘nd all. she bled through her trousers.” johnny, bless his soul, attempts a whisper whilst he nods down at your frame still in his arms. but a large man of his stature tend to have a voice that carries.
“i heard that.” you mumble “hello to you edel, john.” you wave as much as you can. “i am currently in excruciating pain due to my period, how do you do?” your smile probably looked more like a grimace than anything inviting.
“oh, pet…” edel comes over with her husband quick behind on her feet.
she presses her cold hand to your forehead and you lean into it. john winces when he takes a closer look at your pained frame.
“oh baby, do you need anything? food? hot water bottle? ive got pain medicine that work wonders,” she caresses your cheek and leans in to peck your forehead.
“you’re an angel, i’ll take the drugs you so graciously offered.”
“anything else, love?” john may be a man of few words, but when he does speak it means all the more.
the man took a bit of time to warm up to your presence. he was never unwelcoming but you felt the shift when he accepted you into his son’s life.
you love these two with ever fiber of your being. their compassion and desire to help always shines through johnny.
but you can’t dwell on your amazing future in-laws and their spectacular parenting because a new cramp pulses through your lower stomach.
“ah, i just need to lie down. i seriously don’t want any food but a thick blanket will do.” slowly sighing closer to johnny’s chest. “thanks a million.”
“you just tell us if you need anything, pet. anything at all.” edel tries her stern look but it looks more like a sweet mama bear if anything.
“will do,” you give them one last smile.
johnny takes that as his sign to shift himself. going up the stairs and to his bedroom.
cracking the door with his foot reveals a familiar sight, a comforting scent, and your absolute favorite bed.
johnny turns into the loo though. placing you gently on the closed toilet lid. your humiliation ritual may now commence.
he plugs the drain, turns on the tap silently, and stands by.
“why so quiet?” you notice.
“hm?” johnny looks up from his temperature fussing.
“you didn’t say anything down there with your ma and da, why’s that?”
“oh,” his face takes a peculiar likeness. something of ruminating and not being fully present. “i just didn’t feel the need to butt in. they love you so much and it’s really sweet to see is all-” he seems to cut himself off again.
you wait for him to continue.
“and, and i guess i was thinking ‘bout our future and how close you are to them now. i don’t want that to change.” one side of his face goes up in a partial smile and he goes back to the damned water temperature.
you grab his free hand.
“i don’t want that to change either, but i’m not going anywhere.” you huff out a laugh “especially not when i’m getting this treatment, i mean checking my bath water not once but thrice? that’s luxury johnny.”
he cracks a full smile and finally lets you prepare for the bath.
you slowly peel off the sweater, the soiled trousers, knickers. all while he stands by, i’m looking eager to help.
once you get out of your white button up, he moves to unclip your bra.
“ever the gentleman.”
“ya know it,” kissing your head and settling you into the bath.
hissing at the warm water, it settles over your aching bones like a healing salve.
—
the requested medication and blanket are both set on johnny’s bed when you exit the steamy bathroom.
settling onto his bed, johnny’s hands gently card through your hair. armed with a brush in one hand copious amounts of bands, he starts to braid. a talent you weren’t aware he possessed.
you’re getting more tired by the second and his rugby-calloused hands on your nape do not help.
“there.” he seals the braid with a kiss to your temple.
you turn into his chest and mumble “let’s go to bed.”
“right.”
he maneuvers the blankets so they rest on top of you and he settles in underneath you.
“johnny?”
“yes baby?”
“can we switch positions? like me on the bottom and you on top.”
“i’m getting flashbacks already,” laughing at his own joke.
“oh shut up and do it.”
“grand so.”
“would you be able to lie on me? all the way, all your weight and such?”
“like this?”
johnny is all the way on you. every part of you touches him and you cannot express how nice it feels.
his head hidden in your neck. legs tangled together. chest to chest, harts beating in unison.
theres a bit of silence. quiet with nothing but your conjoined breaths to fill the air.
johnny scoots himself up to your face and smiles at the proximity.
he places the softest kiss to your nose, but your chin trembles.
“what is it baby?” he reaches up to swipe some tears away.
he lifts his head to find a few tears slipping down your face.
“i- i just,” you look away and your mouth screws like even speaking is hard. “i just love you so much. i feel so cared for here and i know i can be difficult sometimes. trust me i know. but you don’t make me feel guilty or bad for wanting this, for wanting you.”
he pushes your hair behind your ear, waiting a few beats.
“i do it because i love you too. i want to be there, we want to take care of everything for ya. you don’t understand how much you brighten my life.”
he strokes your eyebrow and gazed at you for a beat.
“no matter if your trousers look like a horror movie…”
that gets a chuckle out of you.
“there she is,” he smiles and softly pecks your lips. “my girl.”
“oh shut up. let’s just go to sleep, i’m tired of this day.” you declare with a yawn and snuggle back into his warm body.
hii could you do johnny kavanagh smut & fluff if you’re up to it? thanks xx
Cherry Wine | johnny kavanagh
summary: 1,4k. in the quiet of his room, with the door locked and the world fading away, johnny takes his time loving you the way he always does: gently, attentively, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
cw: estabilished relationship, fluff, soft intimacy, could be considered a college!au, suggestive content, gentle johnny, english is not my first language xx.
author’s note: there’s not much smut to this but i hope you enjoy it :) sorry for the delay!
currently playing: cherry wine (live)
Johnny’s dorm room smells like laundry detergent and aftershave and something unmistakably him. The desk is cluttered with notebooks and rugby tape, his hoodie thrown over the back of the chair like he never really learned how to put things away.
You’re perched on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, watching him pace while he pretends not to be nervous about the exam he swears he didn’t study for.
“You’re gonna be fine,” you say, amused. “You say this every time.”
Johnny stops mid-step and looks at you, brows raised. “I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
He scoffs, walking over until he’s standing between your knees. “You’re exaggerating.”
You tilt your head. “Am I?”
He stares at you for a beat, then breaks into that familiar grin — the one that always means he’s about to be annoying on purpose. “You just like arguing with me.”
“Not true,” you say lightly. “I like winning.”
Johnny laughs, low and warm, and reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingers at your cheek, gentle, grounding. “You already won,” he murmurs. “You’re here.”
Your chest tightens a little at that — not in a sad way, just in the Johnny way. He has a talent for saying simple things that feel bigger than they should.
He leans in, forehead pressing to yours, noses brushing. “You always distract me before exams, you know that?”
You smile. “I take my job seriously.”
His hands slide to your waist, warm and familiar. He doesn’t rush it — Johnny never does with you. He just sways you slightly, like there’s music only the two of you can hear.
“Sit back,” he murmurs.
You obey, lying back against his pillows as he follows, bracing himself above you. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up, teasing.
“You gonna kiss me,” you ask, “or just stare?”
He grins. “Impatient.”
But he kisses you anyway — slow, unhurried, like he has nowhere else to be. It’s soft at first, then a little deeper, just enough to make your toes curl. His hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing your lip in a way that makes your breath hitch.
You tug lightly at his t-shirt. “Johnny…”
“Yeah?” His voice is already rougher.
You don’t answer — you just kiss him again, this time with intent.
He chuckles quietly against your mouth and pulls back just enough to look at you.
“You’re dangerous, you know that?”
“Learned from the best.”
He shakes his head fondly and kisses down your jaw, lingering at your neck, slow and teasing. Every touch is careful, like he’s savoring you, like this is something precious and not just heat.
The world narrows to his bed, his hands, the sound of his breath when you tug him closer.
Johnny presses his forehead to yours again, voice soft. “Door locked?”
You nod.
“Good,” he murmurs, smiling. “Come here.”
Johnny pulls you closer, his body warm and solid as he settles over you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His hands are familiar on you — confident, gentle, like he knows every place you like to be touched because he does.
“Still distracting me,” he murmurs against your mouth, smiling when you smile back.
“Seems like a you problem,” you whisper.
He laughs softly and kisses you again, slower this time, deeper. The kind of kiss that makes time stretch. His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips tracing lazy lines over your skin, warm enough to make you shiver.
“You’re cold,” he notes quietly.
“Mm, maybe you should fix that.”
He hums in agreement and shifts closer, pressing you into the bed as his forehead rests against yours. His thumb brushes over your collarbone, then lower, unhurried — teasing on purpose. Johnny has always loved taking his time with you, loved the way you react when he’s patient instead of rushed.
“You do this thing,” he says softly, almost fond. “Where you pretend you’re not affected.”
“And you do this thing where you call me out,” you reply.
He grins and kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then your neck. Each kiss is deliberate, lingering, like he’s memorizing you all over again. Your hands slide up his back, feeling the familiar strength there, grounding and reassuring.
The room feels smaller now. Warmer.
The sounds of the dorm fade away until it’s just breathing and quiet laughter and the rustle of sheets as he shifts closer.
He smiles — soft, real — and presses another kiss to your lips, one hand cradling your face as the other stays at your waist, anchoring you there with him.
Johnny’s kiss deepens, slow but intent, like he’s making a decision and committing to it fully. His hand slides from your waist to your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth in a way that makes your breath catch immediately.
“There it is,” he murmurs, smiling against your mouth. “That little gasp. Every time.”
You push at his shoulder lightly. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you love me,” he replies easily, kissing you again before you can argue.
He shifts, settling more comfortably between your legs, his weight solid and grounding. You can feel the warmth of him everywhere now — the press of his chest, his thigh nudging yours apart, the way his body fits against yours like it always has.
Like it always will.
Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging him closer. He hums softly, hands roaming with slow confidence, touching you like he has all the time in the world. When his palm finally presses more firmly against you, you exhale his name without meaning to.
Johnny stills just slightly. “Hey,” he says gently, forehead resting against yours. “Look at me.”
You do.
His eyes soften instantly. “You good?”
You nod. “More than good.”
That’s all he needs.
He kisses you again — deeper, warmer — and the bed creaks quietly as he shifts, the blankets tangling around your legs. His touch grows surer, more purposeful, but never rushed. Everything about him says I want you, not I need to take.
Your hands slide under his shirt this time, palms smoothing over his stomach, up his back. He shivers at the contact, a soft laugh escaping him.
“Fair warning,” he says quietly, breath warm against your ear, “you keep doing that and I’m not gonna be very focused.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be studying anyway?” you tease.
He presses a kiss to your neck, smiling. “You’re a menace.”
The room feels impossibly warm now, filled with soft sounds — breathing, fabric shifting, the occasional quiet laugh when you bump elbows or knock knees. Johnny moves with you, guiding without forcing, making sure you’re right there with him every step of the way.
When you finally come together fully, it’s unhurried and close — more about the way he holds you than anything else. His forehead rests against yours, noses brushing, breaths mingling as he moves slowly, deliberately, like he’s savoring every second.
“God,” he whispers, barely audible. “I love you.”
The words settle into your chest, heavy and warm.
Your fingers tighten at his back, grounding him as much as he grounds you. The rhythm between you builds naturally, easy and familiar, until the world narrows to nothing but the two of you — the way he murmurs your name, the way you smile when he kisses your cheek mid-motion, the way it all feels safe and right.
When it’s over, Johnny doesn’t pull away.
He collapses beside you instead, tugging you into his chest immediately, arm draped over your waist like it belongs there. His fingers trace absentminded patterns against your side, slow and soothing.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, voice soft with affection.
You smile against him. “Yeah. Perfect.”
He presses a kiss into your hair, already half-asleep. “Good. Stay here with me.”
You shift closer, legs tangled with his, heart steady.
“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” you murmur.
And wrapped up in him, in his dorm room, with the world quiet outside — you don’t.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ your boyfriend shows up at your door bleeding after another fight with his dad… you try to patch him up but he has something else in mind ⊹ ࣪ ˖
wc: 2871
The knock on my front door is loud and aggressive, the kind that makes my heart jump even though I already know who it is.
I open the door and there he is — Joey Lynch, breathing hard, knuckles split open and bleeding, a fresh cut on his lip and another above his eyebrow. His jaw is clenched so tight I’m surprised it hasn’t shattered. His shirt is wrinkled and there’s a smear of blood on the collar.
I don’t even have to ask what happened. I never do. We both know it’s his dad again.
Without saying anything, I step aside so he can come in. He storms past me, shoulders tense, fists still curled like he’s ready to swing at someone else. I close the door quietly and follow him into the kitchen.
“Sit,” I say softly, already grabbing the first aid kit from the cupboard.
Joey drops into one of the chairs at the table, legs spread wide, staring at the floor with that dangerous look in his eyes. His chest is still rising and falling fast. He’s vibrating with rage.
I wet a clean cloth and stand between his legs, gently tilting his chin up so I can clean the cut on his lip. He winces but doesn’t pull away.
“You’re gonna need stitches for this one,” I murmur, dabbing carefully. “And your knuckles look bad too.”
He doesn’t answer. Just keeps breathing through his nose like a bull, eyes distant and furious.
I keep my voice calm and steady as I work. “Breathe, Joey. It’s over now. You’re here with me.”
He lets out a bitter laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “Yeah. Real fucking comforting.”
I ignore the sarcasm and start cleaning his split knuckles. His hands are shaking with leftover adrenaline. I can feel how tightly wound he is — like one wrong word and he might explode.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” I say quietly, blowing gently on his knuckles to ease the sting. “You don’t have to hold all this shit in until it comes out like this.”
Joey’s eyes finally snap up to mine. They’re dark, angry, and a little wild.
“What the fuck do you want me to say?” he snaps, voice low and rough. “That my dad’s a piece of shit? That I wanted to kill him tonight? That I’m so fucking tired of this?”
His voice cracks at the end, even though he’s trying to hide it. I keep cleaning his wounds, slow and gentle, trying to be the calm in his storm.
“I know, baby,” I whisper. “I know.”
I lean in and press a soft kiss to the uninjured part of his forehead, then move to clean the cut above his eyebrow. He’s still breathing hard, fists clenched on his thighs, but he lets me take care of him.
I finish cleaning the cut above his eyebrow and reach for the plasters in the first aid kit. Joey stays quiet while I carefully place one over the wound, my fingers gentle against his skin. The anger is still rolling off him, but it’s starting to mix with something else — that heavy, restless energy he gets when he’s this worked up.
I move on to his knuckles, placing small plasters over the worst of the splits. As I’m leaning over him, his hand suddenly drops to my thigh, palm sliding slowly up the bare skin under the hem of my shorts.
“I like these,” he mutters, voice low and rough. His fingers squeeze my thigh possessively, thumb brushing the inside.
I pause what I’m doing and look at him. “Yeah?”
His eyes are dark as they drag slowly up my legs, lingering on the shorts I’m wearing — the tiny black ones he’s always liked. His hand keeps moving, sliding higher until his fingers slip under the fabric, gripping my ass.
“Yeah,” he says, almost a growl. “Too fucking short. You wear these when you know I’m coming over?”
There’s still anger in his voice, but it’s shifting now, turning into that dangerous, hungry tone I know so well. His other hand comes up to my waist, pulling me closer between his spread legs. He’s getting handsy fast — fingers digging into my skin, breath hot against my stomach as he leans in.
I try to stay focused, pressing one last plaster onto his knuckle. “Joey…”
He doesn’t let me finish. His hand squeezes my ass harder, pulling me flush against him as he looks up at me with those stormy eyes.
“You always try to fix me,” he says, voice rough. “Patching me up like I’m not completely fucked. And you stand here in these little shorts acting like I’m not gonna lose it.”
His fingers slip further under my shorts, brushing against me teasingly. I can feel how hard he already is through his jeans as he pulls me even closer.
“Joey, you’re still bleeding—” I start, but he cuts me off by pressing his face against my stomach, kissing the skin there hotly.
“Don’t care,” he mumbles against me, nipping at my skin. “Need you.”
“Joey,” I say, a little breathless as his hands keep squeezing and pulling at me. “My mam’s gonna be home from work any minute now.”
He lets out a frustrated sound, almost a growl, and pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are still dark with that mix of rage and want.
“Okay, so we go up to your room,” he says, already starting to stand up like it’s decided.
I put my hands on his chest to slow him down. “My room’s being repainted. You know that. There’s dust sheets and paint cans everywhere.”
He freezes for a second. Then I watch the frustration boil over.
“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters angrily. He stands up fully, towering over me, jaw clenched tight again. The anger that had started to shift is flaring back up — not at me exactly, but at everything. At the situation. At not being able to have me the way he wants right now.
He storms over to the kitchen window and yanks the blinds shut with more force than necessary, plunging the room into a softer, dimmer light. When he turns back around, his eyes lock on me with that intense, predatory look.
Before I can say anything else, he’s on me.
In one swift movement, Joey grabs my waist, spins me around, and bends me over the kitchen table. My chest presses against the wooden surface as he kicks my legs apart. I gasp at the suddenness of it.
“Joey—” I start, but he cuts me off by pressing his hard cock against my ass through our clothes, grinding into me roughly.
“Table’s fine,” he growls against the back of my neck, one hand fisting my hair while the other yanks my shorts and panties down in one rough tug. “I don’t give a fuck where we are.”
His hand slides between my legs, fingers finding me already wet. He lets out a low, satisfied sound and pushes two fingers inside me without warning, curling them deep.
“Always so fucking wet for me,” he mutters, voice rough and angry. “Even when I show up like this.”
He pumps his fingers hard and fast, bending over me so his chest is pressed against my back. I can feel how furious he still is — the way he’s using my body to let some of that rage out.
Joey’s fingers are still buried deep inside me, pumping hard and fast as he leans over my back, breathing heavy against my neck.
“Tell me you want this,” he growls, voice low and rough. His fingers curl perfectly against that spot inside me, making my knees weak. “Tell me right now or I stop.”
“I want it,” I gasp immediately, pushing back against his hand. “Please, Joey. I want you.”
That’s all he needs.
He pulls his fingers out and I hear the sound of his belt and zipper. Seconds later I feel the thick, hot head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He rubs it up and down my soaked folds, teasing me for just a moment before he grips my hips hard and thrusts in deep in one rough stroke.
“Fuck—” I moan loudly, gripping the edge of the table as he fills me completely. He’s so thick, stretching me open in that perfect, almost-too-much way.
Joey lets out a deep, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt. “So fucking tight. Always so good for me.”
He doesn’t give me time to adjust. He starts fucking me hard and deep right away, hips snapping against my ass with every brutal thrust. The table creaks loudly under us as he pounds into me, one hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my hip so tight I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow.
“Take it,” he grunts, voice wrecked with anger and lust. “Take every fucking inch, baby.”
I’m moaning loudly with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the kitchen. He’s fucking me like he’s trying to get all that rage out through my body — deep, punishing strokes that hit exactly where I need him.
Joey leans down over me again, chest pressed to my back as he keeps railing me. “This what you wanted?” he growls against my ear. “Me coming over bleeding and pissed off just so I can fuck you like this over your kitchen table?”
“Yes—” I cry out, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “Fuck, Joey— harder.”
He lets out a dark, satisfied sound and gives me exactly what I asked for. His hips slam into me even harder, faster, the table shaking underneath us. One of his hands slides around to rub my clit in tight, rough circles while he keeps fucking me senseless.
“Joey— wait,” I gasp between moans. “I wanna see you.”
He slows down for a second, then pulls out completely. I turn around quickly and sit on the edge of the kitchen table, spreading my legs for him. Joey steps between them immediately, eyes dark and intense as he looks at me.
He grabs my thighs, yanks me to the very edge of the table, and pushes back inside me in one deep thrust. I moan loudly, wrapping my arms around his neck as he starts fucking me again — slower this time, but still so deep and hard.
We’re face to face now. His forehead presses against mine as he thrusts into me, our breaths mixing. I pull him into a messy, desperate kiss, tongues sliding together as he keeps moving inside me.
“I love you,” I whisper against his lips between kisses. “You know that, right?”
Joey groans, hips snapping harder like he’s trying to shut me up, but I keep going.
“You’re worth so much more than this,” I breathe, voice shaking every time he thrusts deep. “More than the shit your dad puts you through. You’re not him, Joey. You’re so much better than him.”
He kisses me harder, almost angrily, like he’s trying to distract me. But I can feel the way his rhythm falters for a second, the way his grip on my thighs tightens.
“You deserve better,” I continue, moaning when he hits that perfect spot again. “Fuck— you’re so deep— I can’t— I love you so much. You’re not worthless. You’re not what he says you are.”
Joey lets out a frustrated sound, burying his face in my neck as he fucks me harder, like he’s trying to lose himself in my body.
“Quit making it depressing,” he mutters against my skin, voice rough. But I can tell my words are getting to him. His thrusts are still hard and deep, but there’s something more vulnerable in the way he’s holding me now.
I cup his face with both hands, forcing him to look at me while he keeps fucking me. My voice keeps breaking from how good he feels.
“I mean it, baby. You’re worth everything. You’re not your dad. You’re not the fights. You’re not the anger. You’re mine. And I love you even when you show up bleeding and pissed off.”
Joey’s eyes look glassy for a moment. He kisses me again, deep and messy, hips still driving into me relentlessly. I can feel how much he’s affected even if he won’t say it.
“Shut up,” he groans, but there’s no real bite to it. He fucks me harder instead, like he’s pouring all the things he can’t say into every thrust.
My phone starts ringing on the kitchen counter.
I glance over and see my mam’s name on the screen. My eyes widen.
“Joey— shit, it’s my mam—”
He doesn’t stop. If anything, the risk seems to make him thrust harder, a dark little smirk tugging at his lips as he keeps fucking me deep and steady.
“Answer it,” he murmurs against my ear, voice low and filthy. “Don’t want her getting suspicious, do you?”
I reach for the phone with a shaky hand and swipe to answer, trying to sound normal.
“H-hey Mam,” I say, voice a little too breathy.
Joey chooses that exact moment to hit that perfect spot inside me. I bite down hard on my lip to stop myself from moaning.
“Hey love,” my mam says cheerfully on the other end. “Just at the shop. Do you want anything? I’m getting milk and bread.”
Joey’s hips snap forward particularly hard and I have to cover my mouth with my free hand for a second.
“I’m— I’m good,” I manage, voice strained. “Just… whatever you usually get is fine.”
Joey leans down and sucks on my neck, one hand still gripping my thigh as he keeps thrusting into me slow and deep. I can barely think straight.
My mam continues, completely oblivious. “Oh and is Joey coming around anytime soon? I can pick up some cans of Coke for him — I know it’s his favourite.”
I nearly moan out loud. Joey lets out a quiet, amused huff against my neck and starts fucking me a little faster, like he’s enjoying this way too much.
“Yeah— yeah he’s… he’s here actually,” I say, trying so hard to keep my voice steady. “You can—you can get the Coke if you want.”
Joey’s shoulders shake with silent laughter as he buries himself deep, grinding against me. I shoot him a glare, but it turns into a silent moan as he hits that spot again.
“You alright, love?” my mam asks. “You sound a bit out of breath.”
“I’m fine!” I say quickly, a little too loud. “Just… moving some stuff around in the kitchen. The painting stuff, you know.”
Joey grins against my neck and reaches between us to rub my clit with his thumb, making my legs shake. I have to bite my fist to stay quiet.
“Alright well I won’t be long,” my mam says. “See you soon, love.”
“See you,” I manage before quickly hanging up.
The second the call ends I let out a loud, broken moan.
“You’re such an asshole,” I gasp, slapping his shoulder weakly as he keeps fucking me.
Joey just laughs lowly, looking way too pleased with himself as he grips my hips and starts pounding into me harder again.
“Couldn’t help it,” he murmurs, kissing me messily. “You sound so pretty trying to hold back those moans for your mam.”
He grabs my hips harder and starts fucking me with deep, punishing thrusts, like the phone call only made him more desperate.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, forehead pressed against mine. “Almost got caught because of me and you’re still dripping down my cock.”
I moan loudly, wrapping my legs tight around his waist as he rails me on the kitchen table. The table shakes with every hard snap of his hips. I’m still sensitive from earlier, but the intensity feels so good it almost hurts.
“Joey— fuck— right there,” I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.
He kisses me messily, all tongue and teeth, while pounding into me without mercy. One of his hands slides between us to rub my clit again, fast and rough.
“Gonna cum for me again?” he growls against my mouth. “Want to feel you squeezing me when I fill you up.”
I nod desperately, already feeling another orgasm building fast. “Yes— I’m close— don’t stop—”
Joey fucks me harder, the sound of skin slapping skin loud in the kitchen. His breathing is ragged, sweat dripping down his neck as he chases his own release.
“I love you,” I whimper, barely able to get the words out. “I love you so much.”
That seems to break something in him. He buries his face in my neck, thrusting deep and frantic.
“Fuck— I love you too,” he groans, voice strained. “So fucking much.”
The words push me over the edge. I cum hard around him, crying out his name as my pussy clenches tightly. My whole body shakes, legs locked around him as pleasure crashes through me.
Joey follows right after, groaning loudly as he buries himself deep and cums inside me. His hips stutter, cock pulsing as he fills me up, holding me tight against him like he never wants to let go.
We stay like that for a long moment — him still inside me, both of us breathing hard, bodies trembling. He presses soft kisses to my neck and shoulder, the anger from earlier finally starting to fade into something softer.
After a while he pulls back just enough to look at me, thumb brushing my cheek.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, voice rough.
I nod, still catching my breath. “Yeah… you?”
He gives a small, tired smile and kisses me gently. “Better now.”
