#BUT IT WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN BORING AS HELL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

virginreprise · 4 months ago

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C A T C H ' A N D ' R E L E A S E ✧ . ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 𝐢 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 ✧. ┊ ⁭

┊ ┊ ┊. ➶ ˚ jackson!joel miller x reader

✧ . ddlg dynamics, toxic!joel, smut, angst, arguing, mean!joel, he's a little more dark in this one, unspecified age gap, manipulation, daddy kink, breeding kink is heavy in this one, established relationship, pussy spanking, joel slaps you twice, light bondage, sarah and ellie are dead because i don't give joel a break ever, joel is a whole ass oxymoron in this thing, joel also cums fast, and then there is also cum play because i am disgusting, this is probably the craziest thing I've ever written

words: 15.5k

┊┊. AO3 LINK

It started with an eye roll. A simple action, buried in petulance and arrogance that he had taught vehemently was wrong. That he had conditioned you to believe would have dire consequences.

"Don't talk back," he'd said sternly one day when you'd become too whiny, refusing to help him clean the dishes with the simple excuse that you didn't feel like it. And to your credit, you were quick to learn, quick to decipher his warning glances and become the perfect little girl he had taught you to be.

Rules had been implemented and subsequently followed. Praises had been uttered and kept you good. Little rituals that you followed with the sole reason of making him happy.

So when you woke up pouting, groaning as he leaned in for a good morning kiss and complaining about having to stay in the house all day and wait for him to get home, he knew something must have been wrong.

He'd mulled it over on a particularly boring patrol, knowing that if he was lucky he'd be back to you by before four o'clock. He'd wondered what on earth could've caused you to act in such a way towards him, focusing on the last thing he'd seen you do before he'd walked out the door.

You'd rolled your eyes at him.

He'd told you as softly as he could despite his growing irritation, to have a good day, to enjoy yourself and that he'd be back as soon as possible.

And you had rolled your damn eyes.

At the time, he'd been too astonished to reprimand you, too late already on account of your abhorrent mood to do anything but stare in bewilderment and walk out the door whilst shaking his head.

This was not the good girl he'd trained, this was not the girl who did everything so willingly—gave yourself to him as easily and as naturally as it felt to slip a gun in Joel's palm and shoot. It had been eating at him the entire time he was riding alongside Jesse who hadn't dared speak up and ask him what was wrong; fearful of the perpetual scowl on his patrol partner's face that remained the entire time they were working.

As Joel walked around the corner, his house and its glowing windows falling into his vision, he wondered if the boy thought he'd gone mad. Perhaps he'd apologise to him at another time, although he probably wouldn't. He'd never exactly been one to apologise: prideful and stubborn even when he knew he was in the wrong.

But, goddamn, you had left him mad. You had left him furious and he had no choice but to think profusely about why you'd switched so suddenly. You had been perfect for him the night before, sitting between his legs patiently whilst he'd finished the chapter of his book, scurrying upstairs when he'd informed you it was bathtime and getting straight into bed when he'd asked you to. Hell, you'd even had his cock in your mouth and smiled about it like it was a privilege you didn't get to experience so often.

You hadn't woken up on the wrong side of the bed. He would know because he woke up on his preferred right side and you (unusually) far away from him on the left. It had been the first warning sign, the first indicator that he was in for an awful day of work and an even worse night when he stepped into the house and tried to gauge whether your mood had improved any or not.

When he finally made it home, hoping to be greeted by your soft kisses and pretty smiles, he realised that the house was not bustling with your hurried steps, arms flung wide open to greet him. It was instead, eerily quiet. The fire that he'd lain that morning was reduced to glowing coals, the wood piled in the basket beside it barely touched and the blanket on the couch tousled and creased—like you'd peeled it off in a hurry once you'd built up the courage to do what he'd suspected you'd done.

"Baby," he called into the nothing, irritation seeping into the floorboards as he slipped off his coat and shoes—the gun that he insisted he keep in the house despite Maria's passionate objections, placed against the wall where it would temporarily stay until the both of you went to bed and Joel would keep it just within reach. "Baby!" he repeated, louder this time in case you were listening to his CDs again.

Still, he did not hear a thing. Not a creak of the floorboards, or the light rain song of the shower. Not even a sigh. Deadly silent. And when his eyes flicked to the array of shoes parked near the door, he noticed the space the size of your feet—wood where your shoes should rest. Shoes you rarely ever use nowadays since he'd got you being his pretty little housewife.

He was back outside before he could bother to check if his suspicions were accurate, laces loose and coat unbuttoned, not feeling the biting cold that lingered amongst the setting sun. His sights were set on the house a short walk away, decorated in yarrow and anemone. The house that sheltered the reason he had met you at all.

"Tommy!" he banged on the red wood, chest heaving, rage overtaking him. How on earth could you just run like that? Why would you even think of leaving the house without him, never mind leaving without at least telling him beforehand? This behaviour was so unusual, so unlike you that it scared him. If he were to lose you…God, he didn't even want to think about it. The warmth of you, the sweetness that cut straight through the bitter nature that he had succumbed to ever since the world had become trapped in a cataclysmic nuclear winter. He could not let it go. Would never let you go, no matter how much you begged.

The question was falling from his lips as soon as the red was replaced with the face he would recognise even on the foggiest of nights.

"Where is she?"

Joel could've smacked his brother's oblivious look off his face and was seriously considering acting on his thoughts when he opened his mouth.

"Where's who?"

"Goddamnit, Tommy," he groaned, his face the picture of madness—his carefully concealed insanity shining brightly in the face of his loss, your name harsh on his lips when he clarified for his dumb hunk of a brother who exactly he was talking about. As if he would ever be talking about anyone else.

"Hell, brother, I don't know," Tommy exclaimed, perturbed by his brother's attitude, eyes narrowing at the sickness that clouded the man in front of him. "Wherever she is, she ain't gone far. She'll be safe, Joel," he tried to appease but Joel offered nothing in reply except a grumbled disapproval, complaining that his brother just didn't understand, and was off the porch and heading towards the centre of town before Tommy could get another word in.

Joel was steaming. Joel was so desperately, so disgustingly mad at you that he could hardly see any other colour except red. Just a complex, jumbled mess of feelings that he couldn't even begin to decipher as he stomped in the snow and thought of what he would do when he found you—if he would find you at all. God, you were probably dead. Probably buried in a ditch courtesy of whoever in Jackson he did not trust which had, for the past five years, remained pretty much no one. People had tried, with a smile or a home-baked good but it never ameliorated the lingering distrust that Joel had for everyone except those he was closest to. God, he was convinced half the men in Jackson were out to take you away from him and you weren't safe unless you were in the house, in his bed, and waiting for him to rock you to sleep.

If you had ventured any further than the front porch…if you were anywhere near anyone.

He felt fucking insane: raging around town with his boots laced loose and his shirt flying untucked, looking for the object of his affection—the girl he would fall to his feet for. He had devoted so much time to making you perfect. This obedient little thing who did everything he asked and made him feel an amalgamation of jolting, sickening guilt and simultaneous euphoric bliss at the prospect of what could be. He was going to marry you one day. Damn, he was going to give you a kid while he was at it. Just to keep you close.

Joel knew, he knew completely how awful his tendencies were—how they would break you until you were afraid of him. In times like these, he thought of Tommy and how terrified he had been of what Joel would do to you. Nighttime conversations between two tipsy brothers, the drink making the younger sibling sentimental and the older too defensive to talk straight with. Joel had promised him under the low glow of a dying oil lamp, that he would do nothing to you. That, yes, you were young, but he would not treat you any differently because of it.

Both Tommy and Joel had known it was a bunch of bullshit. He'd lost too many people, and seen too many things that he could hardly comprehend. It started with blood-stained blonde and then blood all over the surgery floor when he couldn't get her out of that damn hospital on time. When Joel had come riding back to Jackson with her limp body—gunshot from where a stupid fucking firefly had accidentally hit—and a strong feeling that he had failed. Again.

By God, he would not do it again.

So, marching into the Tipsy Bison with a furious look in his eyes, he could hardly care about the stares; what he knew everyone was thinking when he zeroed in on you talking to Gus—a kind old man who ran the library a street down from the bar and posed no real threat—with bright eyes and a wide smile.

A smile that teetered off the edge when the wind picked up against your face and fell away again—door slamming closed to see him huffing in the lamplight. There was a split second where they all looked, head snapping in the direction of your damnation and then, turned away—afraid of what Joel would do if they looked too close. They parted like the red sea when he advanced, guided by his small "'Scuse me," and his twitching hands as he reached for you.

Your name was harsh on his lips, Gus' words trailing as he looked at the man practically steaming with anger.

You looked terrified in the most delightful way. There was still a hint of defiance lingering in your stare—a brattiness in the pout as he reached for your forearm.

"C'mon we're goin' home," he announced, already dragging you away from the confused young man you had been accompanying.

"But I'm talking to Gus."

The disobedience was instant and he couldn't decide whether your attitude was on purpose, whether you just wanted to be a brat deliberately, or if there was something deeper. Some other issue you'd discovered in the middle of the night when you should've been sleeping. Joel remembered brief images of you slipping from his hold to go to the bathroom but he had been too exhausted to decide whether it had been a dream or not. Maybe it was then. Maybe it had been the hours of the sun's rest when you decided you didn't want him anymore.

"I said, we're goin' home, you've had your fun." His voice was low—warning. He didn't want to make a scene. He didn't want anyone to be looking at you at all, especially when you were in a mood that he couldn't fix by putting you over his knee. If he wanted to show you off at all, he'd want to show how much of a good girl you could be. How well mannered, how sweet and considerate. Not this unrecognisable personality you'd acquired whilst he'd been gone.

"I wanna stay." You were whining. He fucking hated it when you whined.

"We're goin'."

"I'm not—"

Your name came soft from Gus' lips then, a sweet hand on the small of your back that had Joel's fist clenching. "It's okay, Darlin'. You don't have to stay for me, I'll be just fine by myself."

The way you looked at him then, the softness in your eyes as you mouthed a small sorry—throat too dry to produce a sound, was infuriating. If he wasn't angry before, he sure as hell was now, his grip on your arm tightening as he began pulling you out of the bar.

"Joel," you called with a whimper as he guided you through the crowd. "Joel, it hurts." Your fingers were pulling at his, trying as hard as you could to pry him off you, but he refused to let go. He'd keep you tied to the bed if it meant you wouldn't pull a stunt like this again.

Your pleas fell on deaf ears, to Joel and those around you who didn't care enough to involve themselves in your proclivities and the cold was hitting your warm cheeks before you could apologise for bumping into John standing by the door.

"Joel," you said, firmer this time and it seemed to bring his attention back to you—away from the wild rage clouding his head.

He was too angry to speak but his eyes portrayed every word. They pierced you, right through the heart and froze your bones as you stood with the snow falling and the sun setting.

"We're goin' home," was all he managed to spit out and he had no idea what possessed you, where you found the goddamn nerve, but your mouth was opening before he could give you another warning glance—a promise that it wasn't going to end well if you kept up the bullshit.

"It's not my home." There was venom in your voice, a genuine, deep distaste that left him feeling shot in the heart. "I'm not going back there."

"Who do you think you're talkin' to?" He scolded, and he mirrored your scowl with a fire—a heat that blazed and coiled in his stomach. "Huh?" he questioned your lack of answer, disappointment mingled with fury in his eyes.

The snow dampened the silence as you heaved, chest rising and falling in succession with the quick, fateful breaths that passed your lips and danced in the air before falling softly to your feet. There was no reply amalgamated with that dance and he shook his head with a clenched jaw.

"We are goin' home, and we are gonna talk about…" he gestured between the two of you, looking frantically for the words to describe his predicament. "...whatever this is. I ain't dealin' with this out in the snow when all of them are in there-"

"They don't even know me!" you suddenly exclaimed, lip quivering no matter how many times you bit the shake away. "I feel like all of Jackson has tripled the months that I've been with you, I'm sorry that I wanted to familiarise myself." There was a crack in your voice at the end of your sentence, biting back a sob as all the emotions came falling on your head all out at once, dropping bricks from the sky and smothering you under the debris.

Joel had no sympathy. He refused to be deterred by your tears that melted the snow as they touched the ground, nor the delicate pout on your lips that was pushing him to a point of madness unknown.

"You complain' now, huh?" he asked exasperatedly, chin held high, jaw taut with the exertion of his anger. "What more do you want from me? You sayin' I don't spoil you enough? That I don't go out there every week just to keep you and your precious little prissiness safe?"

The door swung open then, hinges creaking as Walt—eyes glazed from the alcohol—looked between the two of you once, afraid of Joel's stare that pierced holes through his head, and scurried away—casting one sympathetic glance to your glistening tears. A pause. The man had interrupted the flow of the argument, emotions now contemplated and swallowed away.

Before Joel knew it, you were running—fast little feet on the move, hurtling through the thoroughfare.

He was chasing you before he could think twice. In truth, he could not think of anything except your pretty little skirt swishing in the wind as you sprinted past Tommy's house and turned right. The opposite way to home.

Joel called your name in the wind, old bones desperate for some relief as his long strides turned into a light jog, then a full sprint as your legs whipped around the corner and into a little alleyway. He knew you had no idea where you were going. He knew that you had barely been in Jackson three months before he'd picked you up and trapped you. Made you play house with his little fantasies that disgusted him in the depths of twilight when he gripped his rifle as tight as possible.

Joel also knew that in a few seconds, you would be faced with a dead end, and as he rounded the corner and cast his eyes on your shuddering frame, the apologies came swiftly from your lips.

"Daddy, I'm sorry."

God, it was so sweet. It itched every scratch, warmed his stomach like a kiss of sunlight and eased the ache in his jaw from his perpetual clenching.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't…" you paused to sniffle, blubbering little thing that you were and he could hardly keep up the bad guy act as he took careful steps through the alley's sludge and planted himself a few feet away from you. "I don't like it when you're mean, I just- just-"

He held his hand up to shush you, shaking his head.

"I don't wanna hear excuses." He truthfully didn't want to hear you blubbering your way through reasons why. He didn't want to hear you blaming it on anyone else except yourself. He did want an answer as to why you'd acted out so deliberately but what he did not want was lies. He knew how to calm you down, he just needed to get you so afraid of him that you'd let him leash you and drag you back home—no matter who saw the depravity.

"I know," you whimpered. "I know daddy, I'm sorry-"

"Stop." He said a measured tone that mirrored the imperceptible look on his face. "I don't need to hear you apologise, not when you don't mean it."

"I do mean it!" you protested. "Please!"

You were silenced by his stare, the creases by his eyes as he squinted and jerked his head behind him—looking briefly, then turning his attention back to you. His next words were simple, almost soft as they fell from his lips, but laced with poison invisible through your silver tears.

"You ain't sorry until I make you sorry." There was a growl in his throat, a twitch of his fingers and then the fire in his eyes dampened to a simmer of coal as he spoke again. "Baby, you know how this goes. You know I can't let something like this go just because you say a few words you don't mean yet."

You had nothing to say in reply then, nothing to indicate you were sorry at all with the way your breaths came heavy and your eyes spilt over with salt that stung the open wounds on your chest. There was a tension, meandering between the two of you, pacing up and down the length of your bodies and colliding in the middle of your union—a heat searing its skin until it crumpled and fell in a heap as you sank to your knees.

He watched you go: down and down and down. Your pretty eyes gazed up at him in wonder, conveying so much with a single simper as you shuffled your way towards him and hesitantly placed your hands on his thighs.

All he did was watch.

He said nothing, reacted to nothing, knowing that all you wanted as you wrapped your arms around his right leg and nuzzled, was his affection.

"I'll be good, Daddy," you whispered into his leg. "I promise."

His head fell back at your words, eyes squeezing shut as he tried not to succumb to your angelic nature—all soft and willing and obedient. He took pride in knowing that he had made you that way; that he was the reason you were willing to ruin your pretty little tights and hurt your delicate knees.

Hands fell to your head in surrender, brushing through your hair as he stared down at you, enamoured by the way you submitted to him.

"I know you will, honey," he reassured. "I know. You're my good girl, yeah? My perfect angel. Sometimes you just make mistakes, don't ya?"

You nodded into his thigh, muffled words he couldn't decipher and he pulled you back by the hair so he could hear you properly.

"Speak up."

Your reply was immediate.

"Yeah, just a mistake, daddy."

He smiled a little at that, a scoff pulled from his throat as he let your hair go and held out his hand. Your fingers were so cold when you placed them in his palm, your whole body shivering as he pulled you up from your position and dragged you tight to his chest.

"Now," he sighed. "We're gonna go home, ain't we? And I'm gonna be honest, babydoll, you ain't gonna like what I do when we get home but it needs to happen, yeah?"

"But-"

"Sh sh sh." He held your hands to his chest, not one to deny you the tiniest bit of comfort when he was being perhaps a little too harsh on you. Either way, you had worried him sick and he wasn't about to let his relief at your subservience show just yet. He needed to make sure that you were entirely with him, that this was just a one-off and that you wouldn't be running away again next month when you got scared. "It needs to happen. Don't it?"

Your eyes were hesitant, wide, angel-eyes—wings clipped as he held you as close as he could get you without displaying too much desire. Then, a nod.

"Yes, daddy."

Relief washed over him, bathed him in holy water and guided the spirit from heaven to its space above his head. He was revered by your spirit, enamoured by your waiting hands as he let them fall to your sides, eyes cold and not displaying his true feelings at your exhibition of devotion, and turned on his heel to walk back to the house.

"C'mon then," he called after you like you were a dog, snapping his fingers as his long strides and heavy footfalls made a guiding path in the snow.

At your confusion, the furrow of your brows as you looked longingly at his hands, he barked a short "Hey! Keep up," and fought every urge to keep you as close as possible on the roads. Every single time he took you past the threshold of the front porch—which wasn't an awful lot in truth—he would grasp your hand in his, guide you around every corner and past every wandering eye. He would never let go.

Joel could tell the separation had broken something inside you, snapping the strings of your heart and breaking open your chest as you trudged on behind him—slowly shuffling through the snow that seeped into your shoes.

There was little encouragement as the sunset bled across the sky, no words of praise passing his lips as you walked behind him like a sad little puppy, head down and playing with your fingers. You were anxious, he could tell. Anxious and curious and desperate all at once.

You always did look pretty with a pout.

Once he'd rounded the corner to the house, he paused at the steps, looking back at you with an expression indiscernible. No smiles or scowls, just a set stare that kept you on your knees. You paused with him and he couldn't help the thrum of approval that coursed through him at your fear. He shouldn't like it. He knew full well that he shouldn't, but being scared was better than being comfortable. He had learned, too many times, that getting comfortable amounted to pain. You needed to be different. The possessiveness was just a response to a need to protect; every possibility whispered to him through the wind.

It was all part of his need to defend and protect.

"C'mon, honey, up the steps," he encouraged, watching you waiting for his next instruction—his approval.

Obediently, you stepped past him, Joel briefly glancing at the wet dirt at your knees, the notion that it symbolised and huffed a breath of harsh, winter air as he grabbed your wrist before you could reach the incline. He leant in close, lips ghosting the side of your face, a tightness in his chest at the way you stared straight ahead: unmoving.

"I'm gon' give you a headstart," he muttered. "'Cause your old man needs a drink on account of all the runnin' around you been makin' me do."

"I'm-"

"Don't start." He gripped your wrist tighter, shaking his head softly as your eyes met his. "When I get upstairs, you better be waitin' for me how I like you, yeah?"

You narrowed your eyes slightly, a hint of defiance in your eyes that he shut down with a simple tilt of his head—just a flavour of his disapproval of your attitude. He didn't mind you being a brat, not when it was innocent fun in the comfort of your home, spurred on only by his teasing promise of a little harsh treatment that night. But this…he couldn't deal with the disobedience when it ran this deep.

"Yeah, okay, Daddy," you murmured, and you escaped his grasp before he could reprimand the attitude—up the steps as quick as your feet could carry you, and through the front door.

Joel watched you through the frame for a small second, seeing you disappear up to the second floor and he tried not to let himself get too carried away with the image of you stripping your clothes off and settling on your knees beside the armchair that nestled in the corner of his room. Patiently waiting.

He took his time getting inside, treating the occasion as normal as he could: shoes kicked off near the door, coat hung up next to yours, venturing into the living room to stoke the fire and try and revive the flame you had killed, and turn into the dining room to pick a whiskey from the alcohol collection he'd been adding to since he found a bottle of unopened, aged red wine near the old farmhouse near Flat Creek.

Scanning the bottles, his eyes landed on the Whiskey you'd got him for his birthday, the days when you were still allowed on patrol and had been searching for something special for him to commemorate the soft beginnings of your blossoming relationship. You'd told him of the glint under the dried leaves, the rotting wood sign that marked a lost general store, and the brown liquid sloshing near the brim when you'd picked it up.

Joel hadn't the heart to tell you on September twenty-sixth why he had not accepted the gift with gratitude, why he had angrily asked you how you'd found out that it was his birthday and why he'd gone storming off to Tommy's with rage in his eyes when you'd said his little brother had mentioned it in passing.

He'd been drunk from that birthday present when he told you about Sarah and Ellie, and he'd never mentioned them again after the fact. You had not pried, and he had not touched the whiskey since. But, today, it seemed commemorative to pour himself a measure, find some courage in his cowardice and he wondered if the curse of the drink would prevail today when he asked you why you were pulling away.

Maybe, it would be he, who pulled away instead. He was hardly one to care as he took a sip and glanced to the stairway, another sip and a gulp as he began advancing.

It was cold when he got to the landing. The heat had not travelled far yet and any heat from the fire he'd started this morning had dissipated. You'd probably be shivering. Poor thing. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the framed picture of the two of you, the blurry Polaroid you'd forced him to take in late May when you were more friendly with him in the month you'd known him than anyone else in Jackson.

He remembered your soft giggle as you told him to smile, the scent of your hair when you leaned in close and pushed the camera in his face. You'd been disappointed with how it turned out but had given it to him all the same—your initials scratched in marker on the white border and little heart that seemed as hesitant as you always were.

With another sip, he pushed the picture face-down, obscuring your faces from view and turning his back on the memory of your independence with a sigh.

You were cold. You must be and he couldn't wait a minute longer with the image of you shivering. He was cruel but he was not that cruel. All he wanted now was the truth, and if you were to give it to him if you were to submit yourself to him fully, he would pack up everything in the house and move you two far away.

Joel slinked into the bedroom with soft pads against the floor, your shaking body jumping when you heard the creak that gave away his silent position.

God, you were perfect, facing the chair on your knees, frame tensing as he stepped towards you and sat down; legs spread wide. You knew what it meant, knew the implication and you shuffled in between his strong thighs—hands scratching at his jeans to steady yourself.

Silently, he held out his drink to you, gesturing with a soft nod for you to take it.

"Just a little sip," he murmured, desperate to sing some praise, some words of comfort to you, but found that his throat was dry and he could barely speak the words he had just uttered. He coughed before he spoke again. "You're gonna need it."

You looked skeptically. He never let you drink. He'd said that it wasn't good for you and you hadn't known how serious he was about it until two months into the relationship when he'd seen you curled up on his couch with his wine. He'd taught you the best lesson he knew that day and you had not touched the stuff since. You knew you'd never get away with it and he prided himself on the fact that you would never even try.

"Daddy, I—"

"Just take a sip." You flinched at the irritation in his tone and grasped the glass with two hands to hopefully appease him. Just a simple sip, barely anything except a coat of liquid on your lips and you licked it away with a grimace, handing it back to him with wide, hopeful eyes.

He did not offer you what he knew you were asking for, those words of affirmation that always made you light up in the most delightful way. Instead, his voice was flat as he told you to put his drink on the side and he could tell by the quiver of your lip that you didn't like his behaviour one bit.

"Look at me," he instructed and you did as he asked in a heartbeat. His lips twitched as he almost reflexively told you how good you were, how proud he was as you, but he swallowed it down with his simmering anger—his desire for the truth. However, he did allow you a modicum of comfort as his hand came to the side of your face, cupping your cheek with warmth and rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. You nuzzled into him like a goddamn cat, desperate for his touch. "I need to know the truth," he said measuredly. "I need you to tell what's got that head of yours thinkin' so hard."

You looked away, ashamedly, bottom lip jutting out in a pout and back hunching as you tried to curl in on yourself. His grip tightened at that, thumb and forefinger travelling to your chin to force your eyes to his.

"Baby, I'm givin' you a chance here—"

"Okay!" you exclaimed suddenly, chest heaving like you were about to start hyperventilating—chin wobbling in his hand as you bit back the tears. "You just gotta promise me you won't leave me. All of this, I- I promise I didn't mean it."

Joel shook his head, grip loosening and thumb stroking along your bottom lip in comfort.

"I just wanna know, honey. Whatever it is."

You contemplated for a moment with your eyes on his, blinking away the glisten before averting your gaze to his lap. He allowed it whilst you thought, knowing that his gentle harshness was the oxymoron that ruled your life.

"Yesterday," you began, and he was surprised at the thickness in your voice. There was no whine, no hesitancy: you sounded like you used to. He reached for his drink to expel the fear. "You were gone. You were working."

The curl of your fingers in his jeans was the only sign of the girl he had turned you into. Even on your knees, naked, there was the shadow of who you were before, a looming figure behind you that grew closer the more you spoke.

"I was doing my chores, just…minding my own business like you always tell me to and you'd barely been gone an hour before someone knocked at the door and I know I'm not supposed to answer the door to anyone, I know." You were rambling. You grounded yourself again by taking a breath, glancing up at him and wondering if he was going to say something, but found that his mouth was sealed—his jaw solid and tense. There was a sigh before you spoke the words that had his simmering rage burning in blue flames to the surface.

"But it was only Maria, and I didn't think you'd mind…"

Your voice trailed off, his ears ringing as it all settled into place and it was undeniable that in that moment, he was taken by clarity—swept from the ground by a shuddering realisation. He was not angry with Maria. He was not angry with you. That fog had cleared, had disappeared right before his eyes and he was already formulating future conversations in his head. Plans that had been so hazy before when he rode past the lone structure that housed images that, at the time, seemed profoundly unreachable.

They seemed close now and he was shushing you with a hand in your hair before you could begin relaying what his sister-in-law had said. He already knew and he was almost grateful. Joel knew now that things would be good when he got you out of here.

"You don't gotta say nothin' else, baby," he said, softer than he had said anything today.

Your voice trailed off, staring at him with confusion—questioning with a furrow of your brow.

"You're not mad at me?" you asked. "You're not mad at Maria?"

Truthfully, Joel found it endearing how willing you were to defend his sister-in-law, how desperate you were to be his good girl again. The act of defiance…you could never keep it up for long. He'd moulded you so perfectly that you could hardly live without his praise and affection. Sometimes, it scared him. If he were to die next week, if he were to die tomorrow, what would you do with yourself? He'd spent hours pondering the likely situation, the number of close calls he'd been having out on patrol nowadays too frequent for him to believe he'd be living long enough to see you mature out of him. Right through his skin like a parasite, ripping through the flesh and leaving him bleeding with a broken knee.

He'd tried writing letters, feeling stupid when he put pen to paper and flinging them back into his drawer with the lock on it and promising that he'd try again tomorrow—just so you had a piece of him when he eventually left you. He'd try again tonight when he got you to sleep, although he knew that it would amount to nothing.

All he could give you was what he had right now and his grip on your face grew soft as he realised he could waste no time being mean to you. Not when you liked the pain so much.

"I'm not mad at you," he sighed, shaking his head and leaning back in the chair. "It's okay, baby." The rest of what he said became absent-minded mutters, not really meant for you to hear but you were on your knees and you looked so pretty. Just a little angel in his when he brought your head down to his thigh, feeling you nuzzle into the denim. "I'm gonna take you away from this soon. Gonna give you everything you want. Just you and me."

You were gazing up at him with wide, glazed eyes, remnants of bitten-back tears washing down the side of your face, traversing to your nose where they dropped off onto his thigh—nestling into the fibres of the fabric and drowning against his skin.

"C'mon," he murmured then because he could not bear to see the watercolour, the wetness that stung his soul as much as it stung your pretty eyes. The colour of the iris burned into the backs of his eyelids, the wideness of the pupils when you looked at him expanding in his dreams until all he saw was black and the call of your sweet voice lulling him deeper into his derangement. "Up you come, honey," he encouraged as you clambered into his arms and bracketed his thighs—arms circling his neck as he nestled you against him.

It was the clam before the storm—the sun before the snow.

Joel comforted you for as long as he would allow his brain to feel the clarity; the blissfulness of what the next stage for the two of you was going to be. He would talk to Maria tomorrow, tell her that you were on board and put the plans into place with a soft smirk as he stared at the black hole of delusion that had been sucking him in ever since there was blood in the blonde and auburn.

You were heavy against him, his hands gently stroking along your spine, beginning to bounce his knee a little just to keep you awake, and letting the scent of roses and thyme envelope the space. You were his baby. All his and he held you a little tighter when his hips caught the heat of you and your breath blew sharp from your throat.

It was slow, the way you started to rock and cry into his neck. He could feel the wetness, the deepness of your essence bleeding into him when you settled yourself over his thigh and pressed yourself to him so tight he could hardly breathe with the perfume of you suffocating him.

"That's it," he choked out when you sobbed. Heat against heat, friction burning between your thighs as you gripped his hair and tried regulating your breathing.

You did not call his name as you usually did, you just cried and rocked against him, spurred by his guiding hands and delicate kisses. Joel could barely stand the silence, and could hardly take the muffled crying as you rubbed yourself against his leg. Joel didn't like the way it was transpiring—not with the crystal ball in your court and his fate in your hands.

The hand in your hair tightened, dragging you from his neck and forcing your face to his. He licked away your tears with fervour, roughly pulling you to him, letting him drink from the salt of you and then forcing you back so your eyes bore into his.

"Don't make me hurt you, angel," he said through a scowl, and it sounded so dark coming from his lips that all he could see was the red of your eyes and the red of her blood. There was black on his soul, filth and rotting flesh, infested with maggots that buried themselves right to his core. Sometimes, he was convinced that your soul was made from daisies and angel feathers. Amalgamated, he sullied the freshness. Separated, there remained a hole ripped from the middle of both entities—only healed when he was here with you. Keeping you in place. "You want me to hurt you?"

When you nodded he almost greeted death like a friend. Take the hand of that phantom cloaked in black and drag him from his bloodied existence. But you were muttering, still rocking and muttering and he couldn't leave you as you were. So broken and desperate.

"Want you to hurt me, Daddy." The tears were streaming and they called to his tongue, dehydrated from the salt but greedy for the taste. His greed overcame his rationality in the end. After rationale was no longer needed and he could be safely trapped inside the gates—let out only when the full moon rose and the sun died.

He lapped up the wetness on your cheeks, pressing kisses to the skin, digging himself into you as he felt you seep into his tongue. The sweetness warmed his belly and made him drunk with the feeling—drunk and violent.

"That right?" he questioned with a barely-constrained growl. "Want daddy to hurt you?"

You nodded your head enthusiastically, sob wracking through your body as you clung to him, hips still rolling and rocking; wanting to take everything from him. He found it fascinating that you didn't know you already had. That you'd taken him, mind and soul, dipped them in formaldehyde and displayed them on your shelf—smiling at the collection of body parts until all that remained was his head, spurting blood from the harsh hacking of your heart.

"Goddman, baby." The name was muffled into your shoulder, biting down on your skin to restrain himself. Then, you called, begging him with pretty little whimpers not to be gentle with you. Words spill from your tongue like vomit, spraying him head to toe with your entrails and reminding him of his position. Your protector. Your daddy. Yours.

He would do whatever you wanted him to. He would move mountains, drain the sea and place the moon in your willing hands if it made you happy. He had realised long ago just how willing he was, how pathetic and liberated it made him feel to know that he would never let you go. Contradictory, in its base: he would do anything for you except let you go.

"You sure?" he murmured as he placed kisses along your neck, hands wrapped around your waist and guiding you back and forth over his thigh. "Don't want you runnin' off on me again when I get a little too mean."

"No," you choked out desperately, groaning softly as a sharp tick ran through you. "Never, Daddy."

Joel just kissed you through it all, unable to think of some clever remark or bite back with a teasing question. He just let you rock and wind your fingers into his hair, gripping so tight you were liable to break away with chunks of his skull. He would be nice for this moment, the short, lingering moment where he would let you go brainless with want, pretend that he was going to give you what you so desperately craved, and then strip it from you like Jesus refusing bread for the five thousand.

You were stuttering, hips losing their momentum, cute little whimpers falling from your lips in quick succession, toes curling—all indications. It would've done you better to restrain your noises, to keep rubbing your cute pussy over his leg in careful consideration. Maybe then you could've slipped through the cracks—deceived him into letting you cum.

However, you had not, and he was gripping your hips and ceasing the friction—speaking before you could start whining.

"If I hear one sound outta you, I'll tie you to that bed and leave you there." It was an idle threat considering how much he knew you'd enjoy such an activity. Unfortunately, you had never been bratty enough to warrant such a punishment and now, the sun was setting, the sky was getting dark and, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't have the patience to embark on something so arduous. It did not mean, however, that he wasn't going to hurt you, that he wasn't going to bruise that cute little ass of yours and brand your cheek with his handprint. You'd never want to leave the house again if you were all marked like that—the humiliation was just too much for your sweet soul.

But, you were pouting at his scolding, tingling from the rejected orgasm and he couldn't find it in him to be sympathetic.

He was dragging you to the bed before you could so much as beg him for reprieve. He'd pushed you off his lap with disdain, towering above you as he grabbed your upper arm and led you to the bed. The sheets were fresh, he realised, and it helped your cause just a little: the fact that even though you'd been bad, you'd still found it in you to keep up with your chores.

"Sit," he commanded sharply and you crawled onto the bed with a whimper, pressing your thighs together and curling your fists to stop yourself from touching any inch of you.

Obediently, you nestled on your knees in the middle of the bed, eyes wide and glistening, fingers fumbling as you tried to cease your anxiousness. You looked so breakable it made him sick. For some reason, today of all days he couldn't stop thinking about who you used to be: fierce, completely independent. God, he remembered the time when he tried to adjust your stance when you were sniping some stray runners and you'd scowled at him and told him with vigour that you could do it yourself. If you dared do something like that now…hell, if you even tried picking up a goddamn gun, you knew he'd have your neck.

He understood, completely, what he had done to you. How he had broken every little bone in your body until you were just a mass of flesh.

"Arms out, honey," he muttered suddenly, right hand pulling at his belt buckle and slipping the leather from its loops. He was desperate to get his jeans off, desperate to tie you up and keep you down as you held out your hands, palms up and shuddered as he folded his belt in half and watched it come hurtling down against your skin.

Almost immediately, a harsh red line blossomed along your hands, a tear slipping down your cheek as he shushed your whimpers and began wrapping the leather around your wrists. He tugged tight, pulling on the item to make sure it was secure and letting your hands fall to your lap.

He smiled when you looked up at him with bleary eyes, stepping back to go and sit back down on his chair.

Your tears filled with more tears at the disconnect, and he palmed his bulge with a soft grunt when you began whining.

"Daddy, what—"

"What did I say?" he interrupted harshly. "Huh?"

Your voice was quiet and cracked like a dropped porcelain doll when you answered.

"No more whining."

He sighed in gratitude at your response, settling down and letting his old bones relax after an awfully long day of worrying about your stupid fucking head.

"That's right," he muttered, gazing at you with soft eyes that glinted with licentiousness. He wanted to touch you. You knew it, God knew it, but he would not allow himself. Not for now. "I want you to touch yourself, baby?"

Your eyebrows shot up, back straightening and he hushed you when you began asking how.

"You'll figure it out, you're a big girl, ain't you? Now, I want you to touch yourself, and if you dare cum, I'll throw you outside in the snow just as you are."

You pouted and he twitched. It disappeared in an instant when you realised fully how willing he was to smack the expression off your face. With hesitant, bound hands, you began searching between your legs, restricted by the loss of movement in your wrists and fingers fumbling as you tried to gain all the friction you could.

Your eyes bore into his, watching him watch you, stuttering softly when you managed to brush against your clit and fall back onto your elbows—spreading your legs to reach the sweet space between your thighs.

"There you go," he murmured, reaching for his whiskey. "You're so pretty when you listen."

You glared frustratedly, Joel knowing full well that you could barely get any kind of momentum with your hands bound in such a way.

"Don't look at me like that, you got all your fingers don't ya?" He shook his head as he took a sip of whiskey, the sweetness of honey dancing along his tongue as he honed in on your glistening pussy—unashamedly adjusting himself in his pants when you helplessly tried to find an angel that could give you the most pleasure.

After a few minutes of fumbling, a sob broke through your chest. Whining.

"I can't do it, Daddy!" you exclaimed. "It doesn't feel good, you're just being mean."

"Would you rather not get touched at all?" he asked with a bite, gnawing into your psyche, breaking you down until you could hardly think.

"No," you drawled out. "Just want to cum, daddy."

"Then keep goddam goin', little girl. One more word outta you and I'm leavin' and sleepin' on the couch." The look you gave him then was the cutest thing ever, laced with a need so deep. A need not just for the sex, but for the love—for the kiss of his skin against yours when you fell asleep with soft snores. For the vitality that permeated the connection, you shared when he held you close and told you of times long past, aired his grievances and then apologized when he realised a little girl like you shouldn't be burdened by his impediments.

You craved him and he could hardly contain his pride at the notion.

He mumbled a short, "That's what I thought," when you started trying to touch yourself again, hiding his smirk behind his glass and letting the warmth of the alcohol settle in his stomach.

Watching you struggle, watching you so desperate had always been his favourite thing—something that kept him sane during the dark winter nights when even the moon seemed to lose its light. The image of you, bound and wet glistened in the slight lamplight that expelled from the cracks in the walls.

And here you were. His naughty little girl with your wrists tied together and your tears streaming as you tried to get yourself off.

Disgruntled moans fell from your lips, eyes wide as you stared at him with meaning slathering your gaze. He gauged your silent words and he downed the rest of his drink before his instructions came.

"Come over here," he commanded, legs widening as he settled, no intentions of coddling you, rubbing away the sores on your wrists and telling you that you were his good girl again. You had not atoned yet, you had not fully experienced the judgement day that befell as soon as the thunderclouds had rolled in and clapped with an almighty roar above your head. He wanted to be revered, wanted you to look at him how you used to—like he was God himself.

You pathetically scrambled off the bed, your body trembling as your sweat began to dry in the cold chill of the winter air. You could shiver all you want. It was your fault it was cold in the first place.

When he witnessed you standing on two feet, ready to take a step, he shook his head.

"Hands and knees, honey, come on you gotta crawl."

"But, daddy, my hands—"

"I don't give a damn if you gotta army crawl, just get your ass over here."

He revelled in the way your lip quivered, the way you slowly genuflected at the altar of his cruel kindness and shuffled slowly to the crown of thorns he held between two calloused hands. When you nestled between him, he dug the thorns into the skin of your forehead and immortalised you with a bloody cross on your chest, giving so freely when he brushed his fingers through your hair to soothe the wounds.

You began apologising again, nuzzling into the feel of his hands against you, knees scraping against the floor as you pressed your face down against his thigh.

"Wanna make you feel good, Daddy," you whimpered. "Please, I'm sorry. Wanna let you hurt me."

Joel scoffed, smiling down at you as you leaned against him.

"You think you deserve Daddy's cock, huh?" he muttered. "Sometimes, I think the best way to make you listen is to make you go without. It ain't exactly a punishment when you like it so much, is it?"

You whined then, shaking your head and pressing your face fully against his crotch, no shame in the way you pawed at him, not heat to your cheeks when he went to grasp the sides of your face and pull your gaze to his.

"How do we ask?" he questioned with a tilt of his eyebrow, playing with the pout on your lips.

Your eyes went down at his tone, bottom lip jutting out even further as he brushed his thumb over it and words mumbled as you uttered the third rule on the ever-growing list stuck to the fridge.

"Can't hear you," he said, only catching the odd few words that you managed to enunciate properly.

"Ask like a polite young lady or I don't get what I want."

He sighed happily, nodding his head and tilting your head from side to side, admiring you from every angle before letting you go and muttering, "That's right." You basked in the minute praise, the implications of his words and his actions as he spread his legs a little wider with a silent command, and flicked his eyes to his crotch. "Ain't got all night," he uttered. "Already took the belt off for ya. Is a button too hard for ya?"

You shook your head vehemently, fingers clasped around the metal fly and tugged downward once you'd pushed the denim through the button. Reaching in with ardour, he settled into his chair, ready to watch you fumble with the size of him, your warm mouth encasing him whilst he gave no assistance or encouragement. The casualness of the licentiousness was always his favourite. Those moments on the couch when you were on his lap and he'd rub at your clit in soft circles—not intending to make you cum. If anything, it always made you sleepy, your body going heavy and slack against his as your eyes flickered.

It was the same now, with his face straight, reaching for the book that he'd left on the side table and opening up on the last page. In truth, he wasn't focused on the words. All he could think about was trying not to elicit a groan when your hand wrapped around him, a little too tight as if you were trying to get one back at him, and pressed a tentative kiss to the tip.

The feat became even more of a difficulty when you thanked him, all sweet and soft before taking him whole in your mouth—right down to the base, breathing heavily through your nose, eyes wet with tears that dripped into his grey pubes, and suppressing the inevitable gag that had you choking and spluttering as you surfaced for air.

"C'mon," he said suddenly, flicking the page like he'd even absorbed any of the information on the last one, and grabbed your hair to push you back down on his cock. "You don't stop unless you can't breathe, you understand me?" he asked authoritatively. Then, a little softer with his tone, just that touch lighter with a downturn of his eyes to reiterate something you already knew. "If you wanna stop altogether, you know what you gotta say don't you?"

You nodded with his cock down your throat, humming around him and basking in the small victory of a choked groan, then the desperation for composure when he shook his head and trained his eyes on the top of the page.

Diligently, you began to work, up and down, tongue running along the underside, catching the veins you had mapped—now muscle memory that lingered in the backrooms of your mind. Your dominant hand was forever caressing his balls, a comfortable weight in your hand—almost calming—as you took the entirety of him. The soft tip reached the back of your throat with every movement, reflexes smothered as you tried as best you could to not focus on the feeling of your jaw locking.

The tears were damp on his skin, the suction around his cock a malicious force that threatened to reveal his position and your pretty little eyes looking up at him with desperation for his attention. He could feel your gaze in his periphery and from the observant nature he knew still lay somewhere within you, you'd probably gauged that the book was nothing more than a disguise considering he had not turned the page in the past ten minutes. You knew the speed at which he read considering he read to you almost every night and with an extreme lack of restraint, his eyes honed in on you over the top of the cover.

"What're you lookin' at?" he asked with a strain, succumbing completely when his eyes flickered shut—giving himself a second to breathe. A moment of composure and his eyes were back on you. Yours had not left him. "Hm? What're you crying for, babygirl?"

His thumbs came to wipe at the corners of your eyes, holding underneath your chin to pull you off him gently. The string of spit that attached you to him had his position completely displaced—the stalemate broken as he raised the white flag in surrender and let the book fall gently against his lap. A forgotten entity as you leaned in with haste to lick the precum off his leaking tip. Just cause you liked the taste.

He still didn't know if you were lying about that or if you really were a little goddamn cumslut but he would take the wins as considerately as he took the losses.

Your eyes mystified him, the windows to your soul glistening like the heavenly gates of eudaimonia and you hypnotised him into acquiescing. Not forgiving. No, you were in no position to be forgiven just yet, not before he pressed your body into the bed and fucked his cum into you. The harshness just seemed to fall away.

"Goddamn, I can't stay mad at you," he said with exasperation, both hands cupping your cheeks and feeling his back crack as he leant down to kiss you.

Your tears wet his thumbs as his tongue slipped into your mouth, all spit and desire as you sobbed against his mouth. He pulled away to caress your hair, watching you blubber with carefully concealed guilt that he would bury down into the pits of the bruise on his chest by the day's end.

"I hate it when you're mad at me," you cried and it was so sincere he could hardly stand it.

"I know, baby, I know," he murmured. "But I don't like it when you're not good. And I gotta do what I gotta do. I don't want you runnin' off again, honey."

"I won't," you said, shaking your head. "I promise I won't."

In truth, Joel knew you wouldn't. Now, he knew that this temporary setback was nothing more than just that. You'd just got a little tetchy. It was understandable considering how much freedom he had taken from you. Your life had slowly transformed into a small slice of what it once was, the patrols dwindling to stable duty, then to greenhouse duty, and then helping keep the grocery store shelves stocked every other day, and then right down to Joel's house where nothing could get to you except the beast of a man who passed the threshold every day.

There was a short silence between your words and his next, licking his lips in contemplation before signalling over to the bed with his head.

"Go lay down."

Almost immediately, you did as he asked, bound hands placed on the ground, ready to crawl then stopping when you heard his no.

You looked in confusion, wondering what you had done wrong now. All he said was, "It's okay, you don't have to crawl just-" he sighed, looking at your hands and deciding he liked the scratches on his back far too much to restrict your movement for much longer. "Come here," he asked, and you obediently settled back into your previous position. He carefully removed the belt bind, rubbing at the marks on your wrist when the leather fell to the floor with a thud.

Then, the moment of softness was gone and he pushed you away with another nod to the bed before reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. He smiled when you glanced back on your journey to look at him undressing, a suppressed smirk on your face when you nestled down on your side of the bed and pressed your face into your pillow.

You didn't sneak another glance when he started shucking his jeans down his legs, kicking them off alongside his socks until all the clothes lay on a pile next to his chair, and then stood with a crack in his knees to settle down next to you.

The bed dipped when he sat, reaching for you with a gentle hand across your waist, turning you to face him.

You melted into him, shuffling closer so you could touch him in any capacity, eyes raking over his old frame as if he were anything special. In times like these, when you shamelessly soaked in the pudge of his belly, the wrinkles in his forehead and the grey in his hair, he felt wanted. You made him feel wanted, loved, desired—something he hadn't in years. Even before all this goddamn shit, when he was focused solely on giving his daughter the best life possible, when he didn't have time to sink into some cliche romance with a woman of respectable age and a similar situation. Even Tess, goddamn Tess who lingered in his periphery when he was beating a runner to death—flashes of all the people he'd killed and tortured with her by his side. He did not even feel wanted then. Just a disposable commodity. He had known that he was not the only man she messed around with in that QZ. Everyone was looking for comfort, everyone desperate for the touch of another to soothe them to sleep when the bombs dropped and there was nothing to keep them from crying.

Even when he had walked into Jackson with his head held high and the pretty woman who led patrol group C asked him if he'd ever want to go out for drinks sometime, he had not felt wanted. He had sat in the secluded corner of the Tipsy Bison with her hand on his thigh and whispered promises between sips of whiskey and decided that it didn't feel right—that there was something in her eyes that told him she wouldn't devote herself to him as you had done.

God and he felt so guilty every time he thought about how he turned Jessica down with a frown, holding her hands between his and telling her that he had enjoyed every second, that it wasn't anything to do with her or her character but all down to the fact that Joel didn't want to lose someone he grew close to again. He couldn't make room for any more pain in his chest.

Sometimes, he felt like it with you, felt like he should let you run away just to prevent the feeling when you eventually left anyway.

But, you stared at him with so much love, naked and wide-eyed and he couldn't even fathom the thought of letting you go. In this moment, when you rested your head on the pillow and nuzzled into his waiting palm when he cupped your cheek, he couldn't bear the images that danced and fell of you running away. Of you turning your back on him like he hadn't given you everything.

"Daddy," you murmured, eyes worried at his intense thinking, the silence stretching just a little too long.

He was pulled from his reverie with a shake of his head, eyes catching yours, fixated on the deepness of your intent and absent-mindedly tracing his hand down your arm, tickling along the soft hair and reaching for your palm with a squeeze.

"You ain't ever gonna leave, are ya?" he asked suddenly, intent on hearing you say it without blubbering, without the girl he'd turned you into saying it for you. He wanted to see the girl in the Polaroid, the girl who had once been crucified by the horrors of the plains. He wanted to feel the nails in your palms and feet, the sacrifice of yourself streaming into your eyes where the thorns had cut too deep.

You got quiet, your hand wriggling against his until you could fully intertwine your fingers. You squeezed once, shuffling up the bed to sit up slightly, and brought the back of his hand to your mouth. You kissed, as delicately as he had ever seen you kiss, and fucked his soul with the softness of your affections.

Then, you shook your head, all guts no glory.

"No. I won't go anywhere else for as long as I live."

He let the words settle, let them linger for just a little while—struggling to swallow them down, his teeth ripped from his gums and blood spilling on his tongue as he attempted to chew. They didn't quite reach his stomach, just nestled somewhere in his throat, a space where he couldn't quite cough them back up but also couldn't quite force them down. So instead, he kissed you before you could say another word, tongue down your throat, a hand wrapped around where the muscle dug, and pressed you into the mattress with the weight of his mania.

In truth, he knew he had been crazed since the beginning of it all—completely insane by the end of it, too.

He gave it all to you, and it was too perfect that you took it so willingly. All of his derangement was given to you in a china bowl, a side of rotting flesh and a cup of piss to wash it all down. He masked you with the poison and made you just as deluded as he was until you both lived in your very own madhouse.

"You know just what to say to make Daddy happy," he breathed between kisses. "Know just what to do to make me forgive you, huh? Even when you've been bad."

You moaned in response, his lips latching onto your jugular, hands everywhere he could reach, working you into a sweat before he clasped your clit between two twitching fingers.

He shushed you when you cried out, using his other hand to press over your mouth.

"Sh, sh, sh, I know, baby, I know. It hurts so good, huh?"

You nodded desperately, jerking when he pinched harder, then let out a muffled cry when he swiftly pulled his hand away and then brought it right back down flat against your bare pussy. He revelled in the tears, the look of desperation on your face for more—for him to hurt you until you felt like you were his good girl again.

So, he hit again, landing square in the middle of your wet cunt, pulling back his hand to see the glisten—the lingering essence of you slicking the skin. You did not notice him staring through the blur of your tears, just tugging on the ends of his hair which was getting too long, to pull him down to your mouth. He went willingly, soothing over your clit with softer fingers and basking in the feeling of you against him.

It had been a long day. A long time alone, even with the company of Jesse. He had been worried about you and the relief that he had you where he wanted was insurmountable. An indescribable reprieve from the stress of his day and the panic of losing you like he had lost everyone else.

So, he slipped his fingers inside you with the grace of an arcing arrow, and reached for the transcendence of your moans, searched for the mystery of the sea in your eyes and the reverence of the Lord Jesus Christ in your devotion.

"There we go," he murmured when you started moaning, the heel of his palm digging into your clit to provide extra stimulation. "That's the one, ain't it, babydoll. My pretty little babydoll- fuck."

If it wasn't for the painful hardness of his cock or the consolation that you were here to stay, he would've been embarrassed by the way he moaned with you. Embarrassed by the way he hissed every time his cock dragged along your thigh. If he was someone else entirely, he would've been embarrassed altogether by the way he had you. By the way you had him.

Joel knew, had known for some time, that he needed you far more than you needed him. It was why, sometimes, he could never bring himself to worry about what you would do when he eventually left for the West—why he struggled so much to sit down and write that goddamn letter he had distressed himself over so much. He had faith that eventually, you would be okay. You would learn to live without him.

Because Joel Miller was nothing special. He was not glorious. He was far from good and a lot of the time, he believed that he deserved to die. That his penance for his misdeeds was God sending you for him to look after, knowing that your presence would make him utterly insane. He wanted to give you far more than he could, he knew that. Yet, he would love you like he loved the memories and believe you when you said that you loved him too.

If it wasn't for that sickening love, Joel would've been embarrassed by the way he asked you for the second time, "You ain't leavin'? You promise me?"

"Fuck," you whimpered and he didn't have it in him to scold you for cursing. "Fuck, yes."

He groaned when you gushed around him, a vice-like grip on his fingers when he brushed a thumb over your nipple and sucked your collarbone.

"Yes, what?" he breathed out almost desperately. "Tell me what."

You expelled a harsh breath, hand wrapping around his working wrist and squeezing tight until a ring of white branded itself into his skin.

"N-never leaving," you half-moaned, unable to control the desperation for his fingers. "Don't want you to leave ever, Daddy."

"Oh, baby," he muttered. "I ain't goin' anywhere, my pretty little thing."

You clung to him, then, arms wrapping around him to pull his chest to yours, to feel the weight of him crushing you into the earth, burying you with a pearl headstone adorning the grave of passion. The depths you fell, you were unsure, the way you tugged him with you into the abyss, Joel could not appease.

The adrenaline began coursing through him when you begged him to put it in, when you told him with a whine that you wanted to feel him deep—that you didn't just want it but you needed it.

"Daddy, please," you cried, eyes full to the brim with desperate tears, the salt sliding down your cheeks, another whine when he slipped his fingers from you to swipe away the tears.

"Goddamn," he muttered to himself, mesmerised by how gorgeous you looked with his wet fingers against your cheek, eyes red raw from the constant crying that symbolised so much more than the pain of knowing him. "You're beautiful, baby. So beautiful, I can't even hurt you."

"You can hurt me," you said so eagerly. "I want you to-"

"I can't," he cut you off firm and soft, shaking his head with a vulnerability he hadn't felt in a long time. "Not right now. Not when I've got you back."

"B-but I haven't been good," you protested. "Daddy, I haven't been good."

Joel shushed you, refusing to listen to whatever else you had to say.

"You're always good. Always my good girl, yeah?"

You shook your head and his hand came whipping down against the side of your cheek—an unconscious decision that he would've felt guilty for if it wasn't for the brightness in your eyes at the action. Still, he could not continue with these bouts of violence; could not position himself as a force of injudicious actions. You did not deserve what he gave you. You never had. But, he couldn't force himself to stop the power, to feel the domineering presence of his words fall over you like a ton of fucking bricks. You loved it, he knew you did. Just like he knew you loved his hate and his insanity. You craved it like he craved your innocence and, although both were completely twisted in their own ways, who was he to deny you what you wanted?

So, he asserted a simple, "Repeat it," one last smack to the side of your face before he gripped his cock in hand and eased the tip inside.

"Ah," you cried, never used to the stretch no matter how many times he peeled you apart.

"Repeat it," he asked again, trying to gain composure as you swallowed him whole.

"I'm- I'm…" The words fell away from you, your mind going blank as he pushed himself inside you. Inching further and further despite the resistance of your tightness.

"C'mon, baby, let daddy hear it," he groaned, breathing heavily to keep himself from moaning. "Repeat it."

"I'm a good girl," you garbled out, all in one mess as he simultaneously bottomed out inside of you, both gasping into each other's mouth at the feel of him nestling.

Joel gripped the sides of your face between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head from side to side, just to test how limp you were—how fucked out you were already despite him not even moving. He missed the days in late summer when he used to keep you on his cock all day long, too hot to make too much movement in fear you'd both overheat. Just you, lolling against him and spiralling into heaven with the tip of him rubbing against your cervix.

Your legs wrapped around your waist, pulling him in all that deeper and he had no words, no teasing phrases to punish you for breaking the rules. He didn't give a shit about that, not anymore. Not after what had been remedied here in your bed. As he looked at you, eyes closed shut, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, all he thought about was what would happen next. Where he would take the two of you. He had ideas, thoughts once private that he spewed between your lips when he started rolling his hips.

"Gonna marry you," he uttered. "Gonna make you a Mama."

You moaned in retaliation, babbling something he couldn't quite hear, ignoring the "no" that he thought had been strung within your incoherent sentences.

"Yeah, baby," he breathed out. "Gonna take you away from here. Gonna keep you forever."

Your chest was heaving, his was too, and he couldn't find it in himself to be deterred by his own words—the words that he had not thought of as anything more than a disparagement of his own sanctity when the nights got too dark and he couldn't see the future from where he stood.

His hips got quicker, adrenaline fuelling the ache of his bones and your pussy was so tight and wet he could hardly focus on the task at hand. His thrusts were quick and sharp, pistoning into you with the force of all his desires and holding back nothing at all when cupped your face in both hands and begged you for one thing.

"Look at me," he asked through gritted teeth.

You complied as best as you could, eyelashes fluttering and eyes hooded, unable to look at him properly with the incandescent nature of the sensations.

"God, I love you," he breathed out and he could barely keep the contact anymore, the wet squelching coming from your legs keeping him grounded at the moment, Yet, he could feel himself floating with each ringing in his ear, so desperate to cum that he neglected to touch your clit, giving you the much-needed stimulation that would send you floating on high right next to him; bathed in sunlight and the reverence of God Almighty.

Chasing his orgasm only, he thrust as fast as he could, groaning into your ear with each snap of his hips and burying his face into your neck to keep the noises from embarrassing him when he thought back on them later. And suddenly, with one sharp shout, he came, fast and hard and underwhelming—deep inside you as he sagged and shuddered above you.

You both lay there for a moment, his breath hot and heavy against your neck and as the high faltered, his cheeks began to heat.

"Shit," he muttered. "Shit, baby, I'm sorry."

He pulled away to face you, gauging your reaction and finding nothing but a soft smile on your face.

"You came before me," you whispered, unable to control the giggles that spilt from your mouth. "You never cum before me."

His stomach was still clenched, his humiliation unable to overpower the spinning in his head and he was so bewildered that he looked at you with an expression of complete confusion. It took a moment for the giggles to settle in his ears before he began to crack a smile, shaking his head and unsuccessfully trying to get you to stop.

"Alright, alright, it ain't that funny." For some reason, that made you laugh harder and it was so infectious that he began laughing with you: complete easement, not even bothering to feel embarrassed about the way he'd just cum as fast as a virgin and hadn't even bothered to attempt to make you cum as well.

It felt normal, like you weren't both fucked in your own ways, called to the west and blinded by the sun in the east. The two of you were just you and Joel. The nice couple down the street who always kissed each other goodbye: a wife who made blueberry pie for the potluck and a husband who cooked sausages on the barbecue with the neighbours, telling him all about how lucky he is to have you. A little sickly sweet but normal all the same. But how could you be normal when the world did not adhere to the definition? How could anyone pretend that the situation of the globe was usual? Ravaged wasteland. Disparaged morals.

The two of you were not normal and, he decided, that he was fine with that. That neither of you wanted normality, and he was kissing away your laughs with a soft smile, teeth clattering in an unrefined connection. It was slow, almost sleazy the way your tongues began to touch, the humour fading to something more complex—a dependency so profound it maddened him.

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmured into your mouth. "Sorry I didn't make you cum on my cock, I know you like it best like that, don't ya?" Joel smiled at your nod, humming along with you. "Yeah, I know you do."

His kisses trailed down to your neck, down down down to your heaving breasts, nipples just desperate to be kissed and he sucked one into his mouth with ardour. You were so soft, always were and the smoothness of you beneath his tongue was something akin to heaven. He knew he would never reach the kingdom, and knew that eternity with God was impossible, so he would take what he could get while he was here. He would sin: murder, sex, and love with no bounds. He would deny His existence and then beg on judgement day for the feel of you one more time, his lips along your stomach as he kissed his way to your waiting cunt, spilling with his cum.

It was utter depravity when he saw the sticky white contrasted against the colour of you, dripping down onto the bed sheets and looking so incredibly appetising. And he was always crazed in his arousal, whispering words of insanity against your pussy in the hopes that one day he would indoctrinate you into believing them too.

"You think it's gonna take one of these days?" he asked, pulling you apart with his fingers, just to watch it fall out of you again. "You think daddy's gonna knock you up, hm?"

You were looking down at him with wide eyes, propped up on your elbows and looking so unsure of yourself in the moonlight. It only occurred to him then that it was now completely dark, the moon hanging bright in the sky, the day far behind you and winter subtly coming to a close. He refused to believe you when you shook your head, flopping back down to the pillows with a sigh when he traced the white all the way up to your aching clit.

"No?" His lips came down to your thighs, kissing the insides of the plush flesh and gracing you with soft bites, careful not to hurt you too much as you buried your flushed cheeks into the feathers. "You sure?"

You shook your head, moaning softly as he pressed his lips to the crease where you met, Joel's breath hot against you as you awaited the kiss of death.

"Please," you muttered. "Just wanna cum."

"Oh, she wants to cum?" There was condescension to his tone, harsh sarcasm that he didn't really mean and your hips bucked into his face in retaliation. He almost groaned at the scent of you, the sight of you so desperate for his tongue. He would make you cum if it was the last thing he did and he was ashamed that it would not be on his cock but he was getting older and the one hard-on was plenty for his body to handle. "It's okay, I'll make you cum, honey."

There, his lips latched onto your clit, moaning into the sensation, tongue lapping up the remnants of his cum with a single swipe and holding it dangerously in his mouth. Pulling away, he tapped his finger against your chin, crawling back up to face you with a mouthful of seed and disgusting thoughts he couldn't reconcile once all was said and done. You opened your mouth with no abandon, eyes wide as he gathered the combination of fluids in his mouth, and spat them directly into yours. Swiftly, he pushed on your chin, closing your mouth with a simple command of "swallow," and watched the bob of your throat as it all slid down to nestle into your stomach.

"Atta girl," he uttered, mesmerised by your obedience, slipping down your body again to begin eating you once more. Between kisses and sucks and licks, he murmured praise between your legs, promising you that you were his good girl—that you always were even when you broke the rules, even when you made him so mad and worried he could hardly think.

Joel's lips stayed clasped around your clit, fingers working into your cum-soaked cunt without abandon and stroking at the spot inside you that expelled every cry and moan from your mouth.

"Daddy," you whimpered. "Daddy, please, I-"

Muffled, he questioned you, asking if already after maybe only a few minutes of working, you were already on the edge—already ready to jump. Sometimes, he thought that maybe you always were. Maybe you were always just waiting for the moment he would push you—needing the extra little bit of assurance to tip you off the side of the cliff. You came so quickly and it was so cute. So special to him. So he sucked harder, fingers moving faster and your hands were in his hair and tugging with the force of the wind smacking against your face as you arched and fell and came into his waiting mouth.

Yet, he did not stop there, did not think you deserved just the one experience of falling, so he pushed that little harder, undeterred by your hands pushing against his head to force him away and placed his forearm over the expanse of your bucking hips to keep you down. He lapped and basked, the feeling of himself and you on his tongue an amalgamation of nature that could rival the wonders of the world. Surely, you were the eighth wonder, at least a figment in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, at least something greater than conceivable.

Because when you came, there was nothing but you, nothing but the expression on your face and feel of your fervour and he was determined to experience it again, despite your oppositions.

"T-too much, Daddy, it's- gonna." You were babbling, tears streaming into your temples, eyes squeezed shut from the overstimulation and your hands going limp against his head as you gave up the fight. You were leaning into it, he could tell. Rising higher into the darkness of the sky to find peace from the calling glare of the Lighthouse of Alexandria

When you got like this, he knew he'd have to rock you back to safety, find comfort in the uncomfortable when you were lolling in a headspace that cast a spell on your psyche, dug so deep inside you that it took bit by bit from your common sense each day.

"Daddy," you droned out, the moniker repeated over and over until you were gasping and twitching. "Daddy, I love you…love you s-so much." You cut your crying with a moan, revered by his tongue, motivated by the feel of his thick fingers inside you stroking and baiting you into coming again.

It came even quicker this time, the clenching of your stomach, the stopping of your sharp breaths as it built and built, rising tall until it shadowed your trembling figure. Then it all came tumbling down like a ton of bricks, a piece hitting you straight in the head as the heavens opened and the rain came pouring.

A chorus of "daddy" came tumbling from your lips, a hymn reserved for your own personal mass and you sermonised your affections with the snapping of your restraint—your thighs clamping down around his head, fingers digging into the mattress and tugging on the sheets. Seizing from the pleasure and then falling away completely as a long, drawn-out moan graced his ears.

Slowly but surely, his suction loosened, his fingers slipping from your sticky pussy and slathering over the skin of your stomach. Both of you were out of breath, a string of spit connecting you that mirrored the depravity that had taken place in the armchair not so long ago. He licked it away with a smile, crawling over you to press a kiss to your unresponsive lips.

Your thighs came together to remedy the aftershocks, your whimpers muffled by his mouth; an action that you had no energy to reciprocate. Knowingly, he moved away from your panting and practised your special dance, lips against your cheeks, your forehead, your nose and then burying his face in your hair.

"You okay?" he asked softly. "Want me to go get you some water."

You shook your head immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, pulling him down against you.

"Please don't go," you whispered, throat hoarse and eyes drying to a crust.

"Okay, okay," he appeased, softly manoeuvring you onto your side and tucking in beside you—letting you shuffle yourself as close to him as you could get. "There we go…did so good for me, babygirl. So good."

The regular moment of silence befell the both of you, the time after the fall when you were wrapped up in the feeling of each other and gave yourselves a moment to contemplate. Moments where sometimes, he got worried about what you were thinking, if the clarity that he felt after the fact was the same for you, or if you felt just as manic and possessive as he did when the intelligibility gave way to new sensations that trumped the lucidity.

Yet, you always managed to ease his wandering mind, always had something to say, all muffled and sleepy once he'd tucked you both in bed and buried you in the covers—just so you wouldn't complain about the cold and not sleep skin to skin with him.

"I'm never leaving," you said against his chest. All the promises at sundown—this one an addition to the long list of equivocations. "I'm just worried one day you'll leave me."

"Hey now, I ain't ever-"

"Not that," you corrected, eyes appearing from underneath him, chin resting on his chest and looking up at him with watchful, waiting eyes. "I'm worried that one day you'll leave even when you don't want to."

Joel understood the meaning as easily as he understood his own impending doom, wondering briefly if it had been the imminence of his oncoming suicide that had permeated your thoughts as much as it had his. He had to give it to you, you were one observant motherfucker, even if you tried pretending that you weren't. He knew that you felt it too, every time he went out into the snow: the thought that maybe he won't come back.

"You know I try my best to get back to you every day, don't you?" he uttered, fingers trailing up and down your arm, the other raking into your hair and pulling you back down to his chest. He didn't think he could bear to look at you, to see your scepticism when he denied the feeling that it was coming someday soon.

"I know," you murmured. "I just…Joel, I was wrong today."

His movements along your arm stopped, time ceasing altogether at your tone, at your stability. He couldn't quite stop the lump in his throat or the filling of tears in his eyes as you poured your heart into him.

"This is my home," you whispered, voice cracking. "I don't wanna be anywhere else, I don't wanna be with anyone else, you make me feel something I've never felt before and I need you."

A pause. A moment. Then you repeated it, the three words that almost meant more than the expression of your love.

"I need you. I don't think I can live without you." He almost begged you to stop, his hand firmly placed on the back of your head and holding you against his chest so you didn't see the tears that he desperately tried to blink away. "Please don't leave."

Joel wished you hadn't spoken, almost wished the entire day hadn't happened altogether. It was all too real, all too goddamn strange and harsh; he could feel his heart shattering when he cleared his throat and lied right in your fucking face.

"I promise," he falsified. "I ain't leavin' you ever."

a/n: ngl it's one in the morning and half of this has barely been edited because I was proof-reading as I wrote (which has been over the course of a few months tbh) and I just really wanted to get this out and finished and I don't want to ever think about it again but IF you see anything that doesn't make sense then please tell me so I can go back and correct. I hate having bad grammar, so it is of utmost importance to me. There also may be a few bits that don't read as well, especially towards the end, because I had a rough time writing smut for some reason. Either way, this went in so many directions, and I hope you enjoyed it!!!

#virginreprise™#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us part 2 #joel tlou #joel the last of us #game joel miller #joel miller tlou

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banj0possum · 2 years ago

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My Lovely Melody

Yandere!Rockstar x GN!Reader

CW: yandere is a playboy before he meets reader, suggestive (creepy) thoughts, minor obsessive behaviour

🎸 Axel's been in many relationships with both men and women alike, but all of his little flings felt nothing more than that, just flings.

🎸 And he was content with it, I mean being a famous rockstar meant lots of people wanting a chance with you and he indulged in that fact.

🎸 He could sleep with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and he wouldn't have to deal with the commitment that comes with dating or any of that messy stuff.

🎸 So why the hell can't stop thinking about you ?!?!?!!

🎸 He scratched his head trying to make sense of it, his messy hair getting even more ruffled as he tries to get the image of your smile out of his head.

🎸 You were in a miscellaneous store full of alt clothing, trinkets and various other stuff when he walked in with his bandmates.

🎸 It was fairly normal when he came in the store. It was dim with some random punk song playing faintly in the background. His friends started exploring, looking at the graphic t-shirts and mugs shaped like skulls and the like.

🎸 He got a bit bored and wandered to the other side of the store. It had posters, candles and..who's that?

🎸 There you were, staring longingly at a plush toy sitting on one of the shelves, just standing there.

🎸 He didn't think much of it, probably just some person baked out of their mind. "Hey buddy, you doin' good?"

🎸 You snap out of your gaze and look at the big hulking man in front of you. You stutter out an apology and explain your little misfortune.

🎸 "So you want this..toy...but you can't afford it..?" He raises a brow at you as you nod, making him chuckle.

🎸 He thought for a moment, looking at the stuffed creature, well it wouldn't hurt to buy it for you, he's pretty well off from all the gigs and concerts he's been in so...

🎸 "How 'bout I buy this thing for ya then? But you owe me~" He winks, thinking he could score some quick sex for being such a 'gentleman'

🎸 But no, instead of a blush or a knowing smirk, you just looked at him with the widest, most innocent eyes he's ever seen, you were practically shaking with joy as he said it.

🎸 You thanked him profusely before listing off things you could do in return, treating him to some food, buying something for him in return, plain paying him back..he was a bit surprised.

🎸 "O-oh...uhm that was a joke heheh, y-you don't have to do all that babe..." He blushes.

🎸 The two of you head to the cashier, his friends spying from behind the aisles as his gaze is locked on the little ball of cuteness beside him.

🎸 Seriously? Did you even know who he was? This has never happened before...most of the time, he would pay for someone's drink or something and they'd be on his dick in seconds, but you, you were so..different...it felt nice..

🎸 You didn't even get it in a bag, you immediately took the plush after it was paid and hugged it close.

🎸 so cute so cute so cute so cute so cute!!!

🎸 "Hey uh..so me and my buds are in a band and uhm..wanna maybe..watch our next gig?" He asks nervously, he's never been so shy towards anyone!!

🎸 You agree, thinking it's the least you could do for what he did for you.

🎸 You take out your phone, Axel can't help but grin at the case, it was cute, like you~..

🎸 "Here's my number if..you need it.." You smile at him, that smile..that damn cute smile...you had his heart wrapped around your finger at this point.

🎸 "Th-thanks sugar..I'll see you there.." He smiles back as you part ways, he heads back to his friends who were bombarding him with questions as he watches you skip out of the store with your new little soft friend.

🎸 That night, he was getting ready for the show when he got a message notification and sees that you sent a picture of the show from one of the seats with some text "Good luck out there!"

🎸 His face was on fire as he realized you were there, he peeks out in the crowd and there you were, your little plush toy in tow.

🎸 You look so out of place from the people in spiky jewelry and dark outfits, you were just in a hoodie and baggy pants, albeit the hoodie had a MCR design on it, but you can tell it was very soft compared to the rest of the audience.

🎸 Finally it was time for the show to begin and it was the most passionate he's been in a while, it seemed as if the words he was singing were dedicated to you and you alone.

🎸 The little glances at you made you giddy, like a friend seeing their bestie perform, you were cheering excitedly for him, not in a fangirly way, but one of genuine support and amazement.

🎸 After the performance, Axel tried finding you, but the crowd was too big and he assumed you must have left already.

🎸 Wait..why is he being so buddy buddy with you? You just met today! It's not like you two were best friends or anything!

🎸 He tried dismissing the thought of you, tried distracting himself by flirting with other people, but he could only think about you, and making you smile like that again..

🎸 no no no! get out of my head!

🎸 Maybe a little fling can ease his mind?

🎸 Even on his bed with some random girl after show, he can still think of you.

🎸 Would your skin be as soft? or maybe softer? How would your hair smell? He bets your moans would sound delicious..

🎸 shit FUCK!!

🎸 Even after his one night stand, he kept thinking of you

🎸 He stares at your messages, you sent a lot of pictures of your plush toy doing goofy things to him, so cute..so silly...he can't help but smile.

🎸 He decides to look you up on social media and..

🎸 Wait a minute...you make music too?

yep this was a bit short but idk man i love making you guys suffer <3 stay tuned for part 2 (i am actually out of ideas guys please request me please please ple-)

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #oc yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere oc #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere x male reader #x reader #rockstar x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #oc x reader #yandere x you #opossumdoodles

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marsh-rabbit · 2 years ago

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in theory i could go on walks with my rollator but consider. the vibrations from the asphalt Suck Balls

#we don't have sidewalks 😔#the road isnt too busy so i wouldn't really have to worry about being hit or anything #but small wheels over asphalt = bone rattling hell #but also im cooped up at home and BORED!!!!!!!!!#and ive been stupid and not using my rollator lately so im in too much pain to go on a short walk without it #mypost.doc

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borathae · 7 months ago

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Friendship Over | MYG x f.Reader

“You and Yoongi have been best friends for years and yet your friendship is build on perhaps the biggest misunderstanding on earth. You, totally into inexperienced guys, think that Yoongi steers away from romance because he is ace and therefore you keep quiet about your huge crush on him. While Yoongi, very eager to get sexy with you, thinks that you are only interested in experienced guys and therefore he sucks up his major crush on you. When one night, you accidentally run in on him touching himself to the thought of you, the foundation of your friendship crumbles irreparably and you are forced to make sense of the rubble.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: best friends to lovers!AU, Smut

Warnings: subbiest!Yoongi, inexperienced!Yoongi, shy!Yoongi, Yoongi in glasses, Domme!Reader, completely whipped!Reader, misunderstandings but make it two idiots in love <3, she thinks that he is ace and he thinks she isn't interested in "virgins", but it's quite the opposite, bruh these two just need to talk fr, male masturbation, handjob, getting caught, neediest making out, she is a lil rough with him but in a loving way, Yoongi is a natural ngnfng, they take turns making the other feel good, body worshipping, nipple licking & play, oral sex (m. & f.receiving), cum swallowing, safe penetrative sex in lotus & cowgirl, he cums so many times, listen. they're all new sensations to him so bear with him <3, he is literally this -> :O the entire time, imagine being a sub and experiencing subspace for the first time in the safest way, yeah this is what happens to him, dirty talk & praise, i feel so feral for this yoongi omfg, naked cuddles & giddy giggles for aftercare hihi <3

Wordcount: 11.5k

a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAH! i love him i love him i love him he is such a cutie pattootie boongie woongie sweetie lovely pookie <3 this is an idea from kinktober24 which wasn't chosen for the official list, but i still wanted to write it because it is such a VIBE and we love nerdy virgin!Yoongi with a paSSION eheheh 💗

A short trip during spring has been your friendship tradition for years. Perhaps it is also the reason why you also haven’t had a boyfriend in years. The last one you had, did not like knowing that you would be sharing a room with your male best friend for three nights. You assured him that said best friend was on the ace spectrum, but alas he made you choose and so you chose Yoongi.

It was an easy choice, because it will always be Yoongi. If Yoongi asked you to, you would be his girlfriend in a heartbeat. He is the man of your dreams. He is mature and knows his place in life. He is intelligent and witty. He is highly empathetic and always knows the right comforting words to say. He is kind, so incredibly kind, and he is sweet. He is creative and full of wonderful ideas. He is your calm haven as much as he is the biggest source for your laughter. He is just so funny and most of all, he is a total nerd.

Just like you.

You and Yoongi can spend hours obsessing over your newest shared nerdy fixations and it wouldn't become boring. Many friendship trips ended in you and he locked up in your hotel room while you obsessed over your shared interests together. Each year and for each occasion, you get the other presents inspired by each other’s interests and you are even working on your own DnD campaign together.

He is your dream man, but you also know that he is aromantic and ace and that anything remotely romantic was weird to him. No way in hell would you ever tell him your feelings if it meant making your friendship – and him – uncomfortable.

So you stay quiet while you go on these friendship trips, pretending that sharing a room and bed with him doesn’t totally mess with your sanity and that spending so much quality time together doesn’t completely fuck you over. Sometimes, during these trips, your daydreams of being partners are so intense that you have to stop yourself from calling him baby.

One time, you actually did and Yoongi blushed and you totally saved yourself by turning it into a funny thing. A running gag so to speak, although the only gag running is you. From your confession. Because you’re a coward.

Yoongi is many a things, but he definitely isn’t ace. Nor is he aromantic. Yoongi is actually a complete and utter sucker for romance. And sex. Yoongi loves sex. In theory. In practice not that much. The thought of getting naked in front of someone scares him to the point of willingly staying a virgin. Not that he wouldn’t want to change it, but being naked. Why does one have to be naked during sex? This is so embarrassing.

Yoongi also thinks that you are the most amazing person to ever exist. If someone asked him who would be his dream partner, Yoongi would describe you. You are intelligent, charismatic, funny and have the kindest heart he has ever seen in a person. When he is with you, his mind quiets down and at the same time, he wants to keep being goofy. He also thinks that you are the most beautiful person existing. Inside and out, you are everything he wishes for.

But he also knows that you are so much cooler and much more mature than him when it comes to relationships and that experienced people are a total turn on for you.

And Yoongi is very far from being an expert. So he stays quiet in order not to break his own heart by being rejected for being a loser virgin.

The time you called him baby still haunts him, by the way. Not that this is in any way relevant to this story.

“The water pressure sucks. Just a heads up”, you say, entering the bedroom in nothing but a towel.

Yoongi, sitting on bed and playing a card game on his phone, looks at you only to instantly look away again. His heart skips a few beats. Holy wow.

“I feel like I’m still dirty, even though I really scrubbed myself”, you continue, oblivious to his flabbergasted stares.

“This sucks”, Yoongi answers you, hoping that he sounds calm enough not to call attention.

“It does. Big times.”

Yoongi glances at what you are doing. You are laying out an outfit, including your underwear. It is the lacy kind. Yoongi loves the lacy kind. He presses his legs together in hopes of stopping any kind of blood flow to his dick. He can’t risk it. How embarrassing would that be? He gets hard over your underwear. This is The definition of what a loser virgin would do. You don’t know that he is a virgin and Yoongi really wants to keep it this way.

“Does it still stand that you want to chill?” you ask him, throwing your clothes and lacy underwear over your arm.

You and he talked about dinner and Yoongi said that he wasn’t really hungry and that he would prefer to stay in the room. You don’t blame him. After all, he was the one who had to drive for six hours.

“Yeah. Is it okay if I do?” he says.

“Yes, it’s totally okay. I’m starving, I can’t wait. I hope that the restaurant is better than their water pressure. Otherwise, we totally chose the wrong hotel this year.”

You are talking to him as you walk back to the bathroom to get dressed.

Yoongi feels like a pervert, but when you are already in your underwear, you manage to change positions which makes it possible for him to see you in the reflection of the mirror. A decent person would look away, but Yoongi is a disgusting piece of shit. At least that’s how he feels as he runs his eyes up and down your barely clothed body, wishing for a higher deity to give him strength. You are so beautiful. The lace sits on your curves as if it was made for you, the cups of your bra hold up your breasts in such a nice way and your butt looks so perfect.

It aches. Yoongi wants to touch you and call you beautiful, but he can’t. He can’t because he is a loser virgin and you only like experienced men.

You wear a flowy slip on dress, returning from the bathroom with light makeup on and the sweet scent of your perfume accompanying you.

“Can you help me with my necklace?” you ask him, walking to his side of the bed and sitting down on the edge of it.

“Sure, yeah”, he tries so hard not to squeak his words. You are so close to him that he can really smell your perfume.

You roll your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. You put highlighter on your shoulders and the area of your collarbones. It reflects the lights in a faint shimmer. Yoongi feels jealous of the necklace which gets to brush over this part of you. He is a complete mess, barely managing to close your necklace.

“Done”, he lets you know, accidentally brushing his fingertips down the nape of your neck as he pulls back. Goosebumps cover your skin in reaction and a shiver moves you.

Yoongi gulps.

“This just totally give me the shivers. Do it again.”

Yoongi repeats the touch. You shiver and giggle, reaching back to scratch the spot he touched.

“Totally ticklish too”, you look over your shoulder at him.

If Yoongi was any more of a disrespectful asshole, he would close the distance and kiss your neck. But he isn’t and so he gawks at you with a racing heart.

“Thanks for closing the necklace, you’re a darling.” You stand up and give him a sweet smile.

Yoongi looks up at you over the brim of his glasses. His heart is beating out of his chest by now. He doesn’t know how many more trips he can take before he just bursts and confesses. This year is torture. His feelings are eating him alive.

“I’m downstairs for some. I’m taking the key card and my phone. So if you get locked out, call me”, you say, getting ready to leave.

“Yeah, okay. Have a good meal.”

“Hopefully I will. Have a good chill.”

He chuckles, “I will. Thanks.”

“See you.”

“See you. Bye.”

You leave the room soon after, abandoning Yoongi in his loneliness and yearning. If only he had more experience, he would take this fateful step and confess his feelings for you.

If you were his girlfriend, he would cook for you all the time. He would write you songs and he would perform them to you. He would rub your shoulders on stressful days and wipe your tears on sad days. He would constantly tell people that he was your boyfriend and he would even try to get over his fear of being naked for you.

Yoongi knows that you would feel so nice. Warm and soft. He would love holding you and tracing your body. He would kiss you all over and get droopy from your scent.

Yoongi feels it. It’s happening again. His own disgusting thoughts are turning him on. It happened last year too.

The bed was smaller than this year and you ended up spooning him accidentally while Yoongi laid wide awake with a hard dick and a racing heart. He remembers that he had to leave the room early and secretly jerk off in his car because it just wouldn’t go down otherwise. This was the first time he touched himself to the thought of you and the memory comes back to haunt him.

Is this his fate? Did his brain connect these friendship trips with unbearable horniness? Is he destined to jerk off in secret each fucking year until he shrivels up and you find the love of your life in someone else? Is this it? Is he supposed to stay the pervert best friend who gets off on you?

Yoongi rolls out of bed and tries to get rid of his boner by doing a few jumping jacks. He is not going to give in again. Last year was a mistake, something which will never happen again. No woman deserves to be treated this way. Yoongi is too fucking grown to be such a stereotypical virgin.

The jumping jacks help until his eyes accidentally land on your open suitcase and the second set of lingerie you left on top of your clothes. It’s the lacy kind again. Red this time around. He messes up the jumping jacks, instantly feeling how blood rushes back to his dick. It’s useless. He won’t be able to survive this fucking trip if he doesn’t take care of it. Forcing it away will only end in him getting needier and the boner to be harder to hide. He has to do it now and never think of it again. Yep, that’s what he’ll do. Get it over with quickly and then hate himself for it.

Dinner was a complete fail because the restaurant was already closed. Fifteen minutes later and after one sad trip to the local supermarket for some dry bread, you are already back in front of your hotel room. You try to sneak into the room just in case Yoongi fell asleep. You open and close the door silently and tiptoe into the room. You abandon your heels by the door and continue to tiptoe to the bedroom.

And then you see it and it almost makes you scream.

Yoongi is under the blanket and has his eyes closed. His arm makes the very distinctive movements a man makes when he jerks off. His constant small moans are another indicator

And you feel frozen, feeling your entire world view crumble as you watch Yoongi – the supposedly biggest ace out there – touch himself.

The better part of you tells you to turn around and leave. It almost wins until your name suddenly slips from his lips.

Quietly. Like a beg. So filled with pleasure.

Your knees buckle at the sound of it. If lady boners were a thing, you would have one. A huge one.

“___, you’re so soft, ah…”

Panic. How the fuck are you going to make yourself known? Clear your throat? Cough? Say his name?

“Ah-ah”, Yoongi mewls and arches his back, throwing his arm over his eyes as he clearly finds release to the thought of you.

And you are spiralling. Holy fuck. He just orgasmed to the thought of you.

“Urgh, fuck”, he comes down with a deep growl and gritted teeth, following it up with a squeaky whimper.

Speak! Say something!

He needs a few seconds afterwards to catch his breath. You should make yourself know, but you lost any ability to make a noise.

He just orgasmed to the thought of you.

Yoongi drops his arm from his eyes and opens them. His glasses are tilted, his hair is ruffled.

“Fuck”, he whispers, voice filled with shame.

He sits up to get a tissue, using it to wipe his hand. Afterwards he disappears under the blanket for a moment to clean himself.

“You’re fucking disgusting, Min Yoongi”, you hear him talk to himself.

You are totally frozen and mute, unable to make sense of what just happened.

Yoongi reappears and screams. He saw you, now jumping out of bed in horror.

“What, what, what are you doing here?” He stutters. “Since when. Oh god, since when? What did you see?”

“Uh…I heard my name and… saw what it did to you.”

“Oh my god”, Yoongi falls to his knees, “I’m so sorry, please don’t call the cops. I promise, I’ll leave. You won’t have to see me again. I’m so sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“No. Uh.” You shake your head to get back to reality. “It’s fine. This was hot.”

“What?”

“I really wanna kiss you.”

“What??”

Yoongi stands up, gawking at you. It feels as if everything he ever believed was a lie. You want to kiss him??

“Excuse my bluntness, but this made me wet. Like seriously, watching you orgasm to the thought of me changed me as a person”, you say, looking at him as if you wanted to ravish him whole.

Yoongi stutters, but he does it so hard that it stays unintelligible for you. It was definitely something nervous and shocked.

“Do you want me to come closer?” you ask him.

Yoongi blushes vividly. He nods his head shyly, covering his face.

“Holy fuck, Yoongi…”

You close the distance in wobbles, wanting to fall over him like a rabid animal. You want him so bad.

Yoongi panics.

“I’m a virgin!” he yells his confession.

You stop, gawking at him with widened eyes. Yoongi’s face is bright red, his eyes are big.

“Well! Uhm… I jerk off and uh, I had hand stuff done to me. In a club. Once. I was drunk and it was dark. I….And I kissed women. And uhm men. Woah, I just said that.”

“You just said that.”

“Forget I ever said anything. Actually? Forget about me all together. I need to go. Goodbye.”

“Yoongi, hey”, you stop him, holding his hands gently.

Yoongi stops, avoiding your eyes as he does nervous gulps repeatedly. His glasses are starting to fog up by now. This is how high you are raising his temperature. You aren’t helping when you take his chin between two fingers gently. Yoongi feels like prey, vulnerable and totally at your mercy. And the most confusing thing? He likes it. A lot.

“I get that you’re nervous, but don’t be. I don’t judge”, you assure him. You can’t stop looking at him. It has become so much more exciting ever since his confession. Shit, you need to control yourself. It wouldn’t be mannerly to fall over him as if you are starving.

“You don’t judge me?” he asks quietly.

“Of course not. This just totally messes up what I thought of you, so uhm, sorry if I still sound a little shocked.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Not at all. I just always assumed that you were aro-ace because you said that anything romantic and sexual feels weird to you.”

“It’s not weird to me. I’m…” he lowers his head in shame, “I feel weird about being naked. The thought of being perceived in such a state totally gives me a panic attack. I just dipped whenever sex was insinuated and yeah, I did this for years until being untouched felt easier than the thought of being seen did. Now I’m in my thirties and a loser virgin.”

“Shit, I didn’t know this about you. I’m sorry that you feel this way and that you feel this way about yourself. I should have asked, you know, talked to you about it.”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t. I feel like a loser.”

“You’re not a loser. It’s totally valid to start later than others. I just don’t get it. You’re fucking gorgeous. People should be all over you all the time.”

“Oh”, he lowers his head.

“Sorry, insensitive. Trauma from a bad experience? Is that why you feel weird?”

“No, just insecurities. I guess. And, I don’t know, I guess just feeling like I’m gonna be judged for liking it a certain way.”

“How do you like it?”

“I’m a complete sub, but I’m a guy. I don’t know”, he explains rubbing his neck to self-soothe.

“I know it’s probably not gonna help you, but I think that you’re the most handsome man ever. And I like to snack on subby guys like you. Virgins are my favourite.”

“What?” he gasps, finally meeting your eyes. “But you like experienced guys.”

“Yeah, guys who have experiences in life. Someone who is mature and knows what he wants. You know, someone who will build me a home and who wants to take care of it together. Someone who knows what to say when the day is rough because he is empathetic and kind. This kind of experience is sexy. Someone like you is sexy.”

“What do you mean??”

“I have feelings for you. For quite a few years now.”

“Holy fuck.”

“That bad?”

“No, just. Are you serious? I swear to fucking god, if you’re just messing with me, friendship over. I’m in a vulnerable state right now and I can’t take a fucking prank-”

You silence him by kissing him. Yoongi’s knees give up, back colliding with the wall and hands grasping your waist. He is kissing you. Well correction, you are kissing him. But oh my god.

You break the kiss, not because you want to but because you need to. Your hands are on his hips, your eyes undress him slowly. Yoongi suddenly feels eighteen again, lips still tingling from your kiss.

“I’m too fucking grown to mess with your feelings like that”, your voice sounds like heaven to him, “I know what I want and how I feel. You’re the guy of my dreams and the fact that you’re a total sub and a virgin just makes me want you even more. Sorry if this comes off as totally blunt, but this is my truth.”

“Kiss me again. Please”, he begs, head far gone and body burning up.

You give what he wishes for gladly. A kiss. So deep and emotional that it is difficult to handle. You press yourself against him, cornering him against the wall while Yoongi barely manages to keep himself standing. He digs his fingers so deep into your waist that he dimples your softness, his heart never raced like this before.

“Is this good? Do you like this?” you mumble between kisses, hands restless on his squirming body and lips starved for him.

“Good. So good.” He answers you in helpless, totally needy moans, still only grasping your waist because he is star struck.

Just like he confessed, Yoongi kissed women before. And men. But none of the people he kissed felt like you feel. When he kissed them, Yoongi felt in control of himself and as if it was just a simple kiss.

But with you? With you, there is no ounce of control left in him. This is so much more than a kiss. It makes him feel so fucking high.

And needy.

So needy.

The kiss breaks, but Yoongi doesn’t get to breathe. You drag him to bed, throw him atop of it and climb him. His hands are pinned above his head instantly and his thighs finally know the weight of you.

“You have to stop me if I’m too fast”, you tell him.

“Don’t stop.”

You kiss him again. Needier than before. So much sloppier too. Yoongi can barely keep up, soon having to break it just to breathe.

“How do you fucking breathe when you kiss like this?” he asks.

“No idea, I always get dizzy”, you say and giggle, “sorry, I’m way too rough aren’t I? Should we stop? How far do you want me to go?”

“All the way.”

You exhale shakily. Yoongi gulps. It’s out there now. He wants all of it with you. Take the hands of the wheel and shift to the highest gear. Yoongi doesn’t want this to stop.

He gazes at your lips. They are puffy and wet from kissing. He did that, he thinks. He fucking did that and he wants it again.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Please.” He licks his lips nervously, which lets you know that he still wants to say something. “I just can’t promise you a good time. I’ll try, but you have to guide me.”

You chuckle, cradling his cheeks to lean down and kiss his lips.

“Just being with you, already means I’m having the best time ever”, you say, tugging on his lower lip playfully.

Yoongi moans, lifting his head to chase the sensation. You give him a playful growl, which totally messes him up, and shove his head back into the pillow. Again, it messes him up. It’s so sexy when you’re rough with him. Yoongi didn’t think that the things he fantasised about would actually feel this good.

“Do you like it when I’m rough with you? You’re moaning so much.”

“I like it so much. You’re so sexy.”

“Mhm Yoongi…I can be even sexier…”

You straighten up, giving him a playful smile as you hook your hands in your dress to take it off.

Yoongi lies, totally frozen, and stares at you as if you were a goddess. His brain can barely comprehend what is happening to him. He might actually develop a headache from mere sensation overload. Is he still daydreaming?

Yoongi gasps and pinches himself.

“Ouch.”

You laugh, lifting your brows in question, “what was that for?” you ask, throwing the dress to the floor.

“Just panicked and needed to check if I’m awake.”

“You’re dumb”, you laugh, leaning down and cradling his cheeks, “this isn’t a dream, silly. Although it feels like one.”

He gulps, gawking at your lips with needy puppy eyes.

“Touch me as I kiss you”, you say and claim his lips.

Yoongi shudders, squeezing his eyes shut and slamming his hands on your body with such passion that you gasp. You giggle, biting his lower lip.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good, fuck so sexy.”

You kiss him with tongue for what he did and Yoongi is a goner. He tries to figure out your rhythm, resulting in your kiss to be so much needier than you planned it to be. Not that you mind. Kissing Yoongi is a dream come true. You always knew that kissing his lips would be a different experience. They are so perfect. So pouty and soft and so goddamn pretty. Sometimes when he talked to you, all you could do was stare at his lips and daydream about how it would be to kiss him.

And now you are kissing him and it is better than any daydream ever made it out to be. Your heart is racing so much, your skin is twice as sensitive to touch and your pussy has never wanted to have cock more than she does tonight.

Yoongi is currently stuck in his own life-altering experience. He is touching you. The thing he fantasised about is actually happening and you are so much softer than you were in his imagination. Your skin is like the finest silk he ever touched. Warm and tender and soft. So soft. Yoongi thought that he would be obsessed with the spots where your underwear digs into you, but he was wrong. Your waist and back feel so good to touch. They fit under his palm as if his hands were made to hold you.

Yoongi doesn’t know just how tightly he can hold you, but he has to try. Just once. One squeeze. Strong.

“Yoongi, fuck”, you breathe, abandoning his lips to kiss a messy path to his neck.

“Oh woah”, he lets out, gasping for air afterwards. He shivers, squirming under you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…don’t stop, please.”

“I can’t stop. You smell so good and taste, mhm, your taste…” you trail off, dragging your tongue down his neck until you reach the collar of his shirt.

Yoongi realises quite a lot about himself right in this moment. He realises that the reason why he felt so weird about being naked was because he was never really turned on correctly. Because right now, he curses the existence of his fucking shirt.

“Wait.”

“Sorry, too far?”

You straighten up in sync with him sitting up. Your air catches in your throat as you watch him take off his shirt.

“You don’t have to if you feel weird about it”, you say.

“I want it”, he says and throws the shirt on the floor. He drops back in the pillow, gazing up at you submissively and so ready to be devoured.

Your heart might jump out of your throat if this keeps going. He is so beautiful. His skin is fair and his nipples are dark in contrast. They are so perky, currently hard and swollen from the cool air. His tummy is soft in contrast to his pecs and under his pretty belly button, a faint happy trail disappears in his boxers.

You have never felt more attracted to a person than you do right now.

“I’m fucking serious when I say this. You are fucking gorgeous, holy fuck.”

“You think?”

“I do. Fuck, I can’t believe that you’re real. It’s insane.”

Yoongi squirms, heart doing somersaults in his chest. It basically goes crazy when you reach behind yourself to unhook your bra.

“Oh my god”, he whispers, ogling your breasts.

“Thought we could match.”

“Oh my god”, he insists and flutters his lashes.

“First pair of tits?”

“In real life, yeah. Oh my god, you’re beautiful. What the fuck?”

You chuckle. He is so cute when he curses.

“Can I touch them?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Yoongi sits up. The sparks between you and him are electric. You look so deeply into each other’s eyes, sharing air and the same pulse. You give him a little playful smirk, flustering him.

Yoongi lowers his eyes, studying your chest. He lifts his hands to it, placing them over your breasts.

You sigh softly, leaning into his touch.

Yoongi exhales, blinking away the emotion in his eyes.

He can feel your heart like this. It is racing. He can’t explain why this affects him the most, but it does.

He lifts his eyes, whispering your name.

“Yeah? Is this good?”

He gives you his answer by kissing you. He moans with you and while you make a sound because he surprised you, he makes it because he could feel your heart skip a beat and then speed up. And this is turning him on more than anything else.

He squeezes your soft breasts instinctively, feeling tingly when you moan and kiss him deeper in reaction. So he does it again. And again. And fucking again. Until he made up a rhythm and you roll your hips on his lap in a needy rhythm. Your arms are hooked behind his head, your fingers are playing with his hair.

Yoongi brushes his thumbs over your nipples, learning first hand what this does to you.

“Shit, this feels so good”, you sigh into the kiss, running your fingers down the nape of his neck so you can dance them up to his scalp again and grab more of his soft hair.

It feels so good to him too and so he does it again. And again. And again. And again until he made up a rhythm and your panties start to feel soaked against his thigh. He wasn’t born yesterday, so he knows that this is a good sign. He gets you wet. It’s insane to him, turning his brain into liquid.

“Yoongi, this is…” you trail off, hugging him close in a shiver of your body. His hands sadly have to slip to your back like this, but it doesn’t matter.

He feels your breasts squish against him and this is otherworldly to feel.

Yoongi is seriously so far gone. All that he currently exists for is the intimacy you and he share. He has never been as focused on anything as he is right now on what you and he are doing.

You slide your hands to his hair and push with your chest. Yoongi falls. The kiss breaks, but the connection between your souls is still there. He gazes up at you through his slightly tilted glasses, having no idea how he should ever be normal again when he knows how you feel.

“One last chance. I’m serious, once you give me the go, I will fall over you like I’m a vampire and you’re blood”, you tell him, fucking him slowly with your hungry eyes.

He laughs. You laugh as well. The connection only grows. Fuck, you’ve never been more turned on than you are right now laughing with your best friend because you are both having a good time.

“Please be a vampire”, he allows you, readying himself for what was to come.

“Fuck, I’m gonna eat you”, you growl and fall over him just like you warned him that you would. “Lie back and enjoy, baby. This is about you now.”

Yoongi has to very quickly learn what he agreed on getting done to him is a lot harder to handle than he thought it would be. Your hands and mouth are restless and hungry. Touching and kissing and biting him everywhere. And the licking. Jesus fucking christ, there is so much licking happening that Yoongi soon starts writhing and squirming because it feels so fucking good.

“You’re so sexy. Holy fuck, your body. Yoongi, I’m obsessed. You’re so handsome”, you are babbling between your feast, driving away any kind of insecurity he could ever feel.

And as you praise him constantly, you help him learn a lot about his own body. His collarbones are nice to be sucked hickeys on to. It feels really tingly when you run your fingers up and down his sides. His tummy is insanely sensitive to the point where he needs to squirm. And his nipples. Fucking hell, his nipples. Yoongi didn’t think that arching his back was possible but then you swirl your tongue over his perky nipple and follow it up with a bite, Yoongi is a goner.

“How’s it for you, handsome?”

“Good”, he mewls.

“Good. It’s good. Baby, I’m so obsessed with you. Holy fuck”, you rasp and do the sexiest thing of dragging your wet tongue all the way down to the hem of his boxers.

Yoongi has never felt more desirable and at the same time ruined than he does right now.

Only lied out and devoured like this, does he realise that he is still in only his briefs. And that they are fighting against the second boner of tonight. It aches so much more than the first one. Quite frankly, Yoongi has never felt so much pain between his legs than he does right now as he is being explored by you.

“Please”, he begs, which he didn’t even know that he could do.

“Want me to take care of it?”

“Yes”, he mewls, writhing from side to side and rubbing his legs together. This was the sexiest thing he was ever asked. Yoongi doesn’t recognise himself anymore. What is happening to him and why doesn’t he want it to stop?

“I’m going insane, I mean it”, you confess, hooking your fingers in his soaked briefs. You take them off completely, throwing them on the floor.

The next moment is spend in star struck silence as you stare at his cock.

He has the most perfect cock you have ever seen. Listen, you saw your fair share of dicks in your life and you can say with complete honesty, that Yoongi’s is the sexiest cock ever. His tip is flushed and his shaft curves slightly. The sexiest part, however, are the prominent veins spanning all over his cock. Of course someone with his hands would have a veiny dick. If this continues, you might start barking.

“___?”

You lift your eyes at his shy whisper, “yeah?”

“Can we turn off the lights?”

“Oh”, you realise, “totally! I’m so sorry for staring. I just haven’t seen such a sexy cock before. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”, you explain yourself, reaching over to the light switch.

“Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“You really think that I’m sexy?”

“Yes, I’m serious. You have the kind of dick you only see in fanart. You know, the really sexy fanart on Patreon I pay for.”

Yoongi instantly understands what you mean. Sometimes you showed it to him because he asked under the pretence that he was just interested in art, while he secretly used these moments to make a picture of what you like. In his head, the dicks in these drawings were so much sexier than his dick could ever be, but if you seriously think that his dick looks like those dicks, Yoongi has won in fucking life.

“Keep the lights on”, he says.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, keep them on. I”, he giggles, hiding behind his hands, “shut up, I look like this?”

You snicker, “mhm, you do. You sexy beast.”

“Shut up.”

You tug his hands away, pinning them above his head as you hold them. You look at him as if he was your everything, raising his pulse.

“I’m so into you”, you whisper.

“Please”, he begs, chasing your kiss.

You give it to him gladly, kissing him until air is sparse. And only then, you begin your next journey. Down to his aching cock, for which you feel so starved that it hurts. You use your fingers to paint a path for your tongue, leaving out his cock when you reach him to lick his inner thighs instead.

Yoongi twists the sheets. He didn’t know that this was a real thing. Sometimes when he lost himself in a good fanfiction and it talked about people twisting the sheets in pleasure, he always thought that this was the creative choice of the author. Nope. This actually happens and Yoongi has no control over it.

He twists the sheets and seconds later, tugs on them as you sink him into your warm mouth.

“What the actual fuck?” he gasps out, sitting up slightly.

You purr around him, shoving him down with your hand on his chest.

Yoongi drops in the sheets, arching his back. There you are again, being a little rough with him. Yoongi gasps for air as if he has never breathed before, cock throbbing in your mouth.

You sink him in completely, moaning around him. He is the perfect size for your mouth. Oh you love his cock. You swallow around him, purring in pleasure.

Yoongi shakes, throwing his hands over his eyes which results in his glasses to fall off messily.

“Stop. I’m gonna cum.”

You slip off of him, almost setting him off. His hips twitch, following your mouth.

“So sensitive”, you coo, swirling your tongue over his cockhead while your fingers jerk off his length.

“Please. What the fuck. This feels so good. Stop, I have to- ah!”

“Mhhm, what a pretty cock you have and so sensitive”, you purr, giving it kisses.

One. Two. Three. Four because you love him. Five because he is so sweet. Six because he twitches so perfectly. Seven and then you sink him in again.

You keep your tongue pressed against him, relaxing your lips so they would move around him as you fuck your face with him. Your right hand is playing with his dainty nipples, while your left is rubbing the base of his cock.

“Please stop, I’m gonna-”, he can’t finish his sentence because you make him moan oh so easily.

You understand him nonetheless, slipping off his dick to talk. You switch nipples and slide your left hand to his balls.

“Please…stop”, he gets out, totally out of breath and quaky.

“You really wanna stop?”

“No, but. But. Ah. But I have to…oh god, I have to fucking cum”, he presses out, tensing his neck and putting his hand over your hand to squeeze it. His palm is sweaty and warm. This is so sexy to feel.

“Cum in my mouth, baby. I like it”, you encourage him, slipping him back inside to suck on his pretty cock. Vigorously if one may add, to the point where your cheeks fall in and Yoongi feels as if you are sucking the soul out of him.

“Ah! A-ah…” He grabs your head with his other hand, hips twitching uncontrollably. “Please, fucking shit, ah! Please, ___, please.”

You knew that he wouldn’t last long, but this wasn’t the goal. You want tonight to be fucking perfect and if this means that he orgasms in your mouth prematurely, then so be it. This is so sexy to you. It’s honestly everything you wanted for years. You thought about him like this in your most sinful nights, imagining the taste of him. And now you are greedy and want him as quickly as possible.

He tastes so much fucking sweeter than he did in your imagination, dulling your senses to nothing but him.

“Ah please. A-ah, oh god. Oh god.”

You slurp and moan as you suck him off, pushing Yoongi into the kind of high which nothing will ever be able to recreate. Orgasms from a mouth just hit differently. They are so much warmer and leave one’s legs just so fucking wobbly.

And Yoongi currently experiences the first ever high like this, twisting your hair and cursing in a broken voice. You can also hear glimpses of your name, but they’re oh so broken in pleasure.

You swear that you actually came with him. Holy shit, he sounds so sexy when he orgasms. For just a second, one must think about his voice and then imagine it when a high shakes his body. Yes, exactly, the lethalness of him is out of this world.

Just like he did for his first orgasm, he comes down with a growl and gritted teeth, dropping into the sheets. He pushes you off, covering himself and fighting for air.

“Oh my god. Ahm. Oh god. Ah.”

You help him through it, kissing your way up to his lips. You made sure to swallow all of him before you kiss him.

“Good job, babyboy.”

Droopy but with more confidence, Yoongi cups your cheek, kissing you back. He is a lot noisier, purring constantly. He even gives your lower lip a tug before ending the kiss.

“What the fuck”, he purrs tiredly, gazing at you. His cheeks are so flushed, his eyes are slightly glassy. He looks so happy. Shocked, but happy.

“First ever head?” you whisper your question, tracing his pecs. Your leg is swung over one of his thighs, knee resting between them.

“Yeah.”

You scrunch your nose, “I can assume that you liked it?”

“So much, you have no idea”, he says and licks his lips.

“You wanna say something?”

“I’m sorry for nutting so soon. I swear, this was really overwhelming for me.”

“It’s okay. I knew you wouldn’t last long. I rarely last long during head. It’s really sexy to me.”

“You like it too?” he croaks out, lifting the inner corners of his brows submissively.

“Yeah, but I rarely got it.”

Yoongi doesn’t like to hear this. Now that he knows how good it feels, he feels enraged thinking that such sensations are a rare thing for you. Someone like you should be adored this way constantly. The fucking moment you first kissed him, all he wanted was to make you feel good too. How on earth could other guys not feel the same?

“What’s with the angry face?” you ask him.

“It’s just…you should have felt it a lot.”

“You’re so sweet. I guess I just have trash exes.”

“You do. I never liked any of them”, he confesses, making you chuckle. He licks his lips, “can I?”

“Eat me out?”

“Yeah. Please.”

“Yes, oh my god.”

You and he switch places, kissing as you do. He is between your legs, hands on your body and skin melting with yours.

He is the one to break the kiss, gazing at you. Your heart flutters because of him.

“If I do something weird or wrong, tell me please.”

“Yes, I-”

He interrupts you before you can continue by connecting his puffy lips with your neck. His fingers paint paths and swirls, his lips trace them. He even sucks on some spots, flicking his tongue over your skin just like you did to him.

“Yoongi…wow….”

“You smell so good”, he whispers and purrs, rubbing his nose down your neck to your collarbones. “And you’re so soft”, he adds, following it with a small hickey on your left collarbone. And your right one. He doesn’t want it to feel left out.

“When I put your necklace on, I wanted to do this to you”, he confesses, totally sending you down a spiral because...

“What the hell? This is what you were thinking? Oh my god, Yoongi…aaah”, you moan, squirming.

“You’re beautiful”, he rasps and continues his path down to your chest.

He is going to take his time. Just like you did when you explored him. He is going to kiss you, bite the soft spots and lick the tender areas.

Yoongi might have started this evening as an inexperienced idiot, but he will be damned if he lets his inexperience stop him from loving you right. He fantasised about what he would do to you so many times that he has to be an expert at them now that it finally happens. And judging by how much you sigh and moan and squirm, he is doing a good job.

He kisses you, feels you up and uses his mouth on your nipples. He knows that this feels good. You moan because of it, chasing the touches.

For just a second he slips off, trying to dirty talk even if his heart is hammering in his chest.

“You have the prettiest tits. They’re perfect.”

You sigh and arch your back to chase his lips in reaction. Yoongi takes your nipple back inside, closing his eyes. Perhaps he isn’t that bad at dirty talk. You seem to really like it.

Yoongi feels confident in continuing. He explores your tummy and waist, wanting to make you feel so good.

He wasn’t born yesterday. He’s grown enough to know that if it feels good for him, it also feels good for you. So he tries to mimic what you did to him and hopes that it feels good to you. He just doesn’t know how good it actually feels until you break the silence with a curse. He was in such a trance, mind completely focused on you, so hearing you curse feels like a slap to the face.

He is between your legs by now, having nuzzled your inner thighs before. He looks up at you, frozen in panic. Did he do something wrong?

“This is fucking insane, I’m so horny”, you confess and chuckle, “fuck, just lick me.”

Yoongi’s cock tingles. As does his stomach. So you liked it. A lot.

“Do you want it over your panties? Uhm, they’re so pretty”, he asks shyly.

“Thanks, they’re lace.”

“I know. The lacy kind. I like them.”

You meet his eyes. He is shy, but courageous at the same time.

“You say the sexiest stuff. No panties, want you raw”, you say and lift your butt so you can take off your underwear. You lift your legs too, keeping them in the air when you throw the panties to the side.

“Wow, this is…wow”, Yoongi whispers, staring without shame. His mouth is agape, his eyes are widened.

“Come closer, baby.”

“Okay. Like this?”

“Yes, like this.”

Yoongi almost passes out when you put your legs over his shoulders and writhe sensually. This is so hot.

He looks up at you, deep into the sultry eyes you give him.

“You look so good with my legs on your shoulders, handsome”, you coo.

Yoongi snorts a chuckle in coyness, lowering his eyes because he possibly couldn’t look at your eyes anymore. You snicker, enjoying his flustered reaction with a racing heart.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He wraps his arms around your thighs and goes down on you, gazing up at you as he does. He needs to see if you like it. You gasp, thighs tensing under his fingers.

Yoongi needs nothing more than the first lick to already be obsessed, moaning into you.

“You taste so good. What the fuck, I missed out big times”, he says and buries himself in you again.

He looks for the good spot with slow flicks of his tongue, making it feel incredible for you without even trying.

“Is nice, baby”, you sigh.

But he thinks that he could do better. Yoongi knows from fanfiction that women can arch their backs from getting ate and you aren’t arching it yet.

He lifts his mouth, gazing at your pussy. He needs to study you, make out where to focus on. His hands rub your inner thighs as he memories the view of you.

“What’s the matter?” you sound desperate.

“Where do you like it most?”

“Oh. Oh wow, this is sexy. I guess I like it here a lot. You know what a clit is, right?” you show it to him.

“I do. Yours is so pretty”, he whispers, drooling.

You mewl and drop in the pillow, “fucking hell, I’m so horny.”

“Same”, Yoongi confesses in the sexiest rasp ever and buries himself back in you. He took a glimpse and thinks that he knows the spot now. He swirls his tongue, waiting for your reaction.

You writhe, rubbing your feet over his back as your legs move with you. A small moan escapes you.

Better. He can do better. Yoongi fixes his tongue. He feels the difference first and sees the effect it has on you second.

You arch your back, twisting the sheets and curling your toes.

“There. What the fuck, ahmm.”

Yoongi feels euphoric. He closes his hands around your waist and presses his tongue closer. He swirls and flicks it, moaning each time you moan and squeezing your waist whenever you writhe.

“Okay. Woah. Ah. Wow. What the fuck? Yoongi, holy fuck”, you get out, genuinely losing it.

The way he goes down on you feels so good that you completely forget that he never did this before. Of course he is a natural. Someone with his pretty mouth and witty tongue has to be good at oral.

“Serious, Yoongi”, you grasp a bundle of his hair, “I’m already close. A-ah…”

Yoongi fucks the sheets, pulling you against his face until your butt is off the sheets. Your legs hook behind his head tightly, he purrs and grasps your hips, moving them for you so you are grinding on his face.

This isn’t like him at all. This can’t be your shy, nerdy best friend. A demon must have replaced him. You lift your head with the little strength you have left, croaking his name.

This is actually him. Yoongi is between your legs, Yoongi is the one who grinds your hips on his face. This is actually him. Yoongi might genuinely go a little feral when he has your pussy on his tongue. She has him acting up. The realisation shoots shakes through your body.

“I can’t. Baby, fucking hell”, you moan, dropping into the pillow again.

Yoongi purrs into you, taking your clit between his lips to suck on her. He ends it by grinding his tongue against her, purring so deeply.

“Holy fuck. Urgh, Yoongi”, you get out, tugging on the sheets and trembling.

Yoongi feels high. He is so eager to get you over the edge. So eager in fact that he starts using his entire mouth for it. Tongue and lips and messy saliva. And of course, he does everything right with it.

He throws you over the edge just like this. Tongue kissing your pussy and using his strength to help you get there easier. He surprises himself as well with how hard it hits you.

“Yoongi!”

He looks up at you in shock. Is he doing This? Is he responsible for the pretty face you are making and the tremors of your body? Yoongi curls his tongue against your throbbing clit, making you moan loudly and writhe. Fuck, he is the one doing this to you.

Yoongi fucks the mattress harshly, speeding up his tongue which results in you to wail up and tug on his hair.

“Yoongi! Ah, Yoongi!”

His name from your mouth. Yoongi feels delirious. This is so hot. He needs more of you. More. He sucks on your clit, totally lost to you.

“Sensitive! Baby, slow down!”

Yoongi can’t hear you, purring around you despite how much he overstimulates.

“Yoongi…baby…slow urgh fuck.”

It takes you quite a lot of strength to actually wrestle him off of you. And he doesn’t let go without complaint. He mewls in distaste, soothing himself by sucking on your inner thighs instead. His grip on you is strong. Which is turning you on so much. Of course someone with his hands has strength in them.

You drop with a groan, squirming from side to side as you try to recover from one of your best highs ever. And it’s by none other than your shy best friend. With surprisingly strong hands. And a really fast tongue. You might not leave this night sane.

“You’re insane.”

Yoongi only stares for a moment before the unbearable desire to kiss you overcomes him. He starts at your tender inner thighs and kisses his way up to your lips eagerly.

He reaches your lips feeling droopy and totally devoted to you. You kiss him back eagerly, playing with his hair. But you don’t get to taste him for long, pulling him back to talk.

“What the fuck was this?” you ask, staring at his puffy, pink lips. They’re still glistening from what he did.

“Why? Was it bad?”

“Uhm, no? Hello? You just made me shake, what the hell?”

Yoongi blushes, looking to the side.

“I just did what I thought would feel good for you”, he mumbles with a pout.

“I can tell you that you did everything right. I’m done for.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, this was it for me.”

Yoongi feels equal parts proud and angry. He made you feel so good, but it was to such a level that you don’t want more.

“What’s with the pout?” you ask him.

“No, it’s nothing.”

You snicker, “you want more, don’t you?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Lie down.”

Yoongi obeys, shivering when you cuddle into his side and begin tracing his torso.

“I’m not done with you either. Don’t you worry. Just need a quick breather.”

He blushes, looking to the side. He is so cute and you are still so droopy from the high he gave you that you end up giggling and stubbing his flushed cheek with your nose. You nuzzle against him afterwards.

“You’re so cute”, you gush.

Yoongi accepts it silently, feeling too flustered to come up with anything. His heart is beating uncontrollably. Naked cuddling is everything. Being called cute comes close second. A kiss on the cheek is third.

“Are you really sure about more?” you ask him.

“Yes”, he nods his head vigorously, but falters as a question runs through him, “are you?”

“Yes I am. Just want to make sure that you’re still comfy. My first time was kinda traumatic, yeah. Don’t wanna do the same thing to you.”

“What? Who was the bastard?” Yoongi asks, furrowing his brows.

“I’m good, god I’m good. It’s been years and I’m over it. God, you’re so cute”, you gush, having to kiss him for being so perfect.

Yoongi is tense at first but relaxes very soon. He melts in your hands, rolling to the side to wrap his arms around you and kiss you deeper. With tongue. It’s perfect. Everything about him is perfect.

It isn’t long and you are both so turned on that you are out of breath as you break the kiss.

“I think I saw condoms in the bedside table”, you say.

“I’ll check”, Yoongi says and flips over.

You use the opportunity to place kisses on his back and shoulder. And Yoongi is done for. He manages just enough to get a condom but then melts into you, eyes closed and butt wiggling against you. All his mind thinks about is last year when you accidentally spooned him and he had to touch himself because of it.

And now he is here. Naked and hot in your arms while you kiss his neck and rub his nipples.

“Please”, he sighs, placing his hand over yours, “please take me, I can’t handle this anymore.”

“Fuck, you say the sexiest stuff”, you rasp and press yourself closer, “condom?”

He shows it to you.

“Yes, thank god. Imagine if there were none and we’d have had to stop because of it.”

“Don’t make me think of that”, he cranes his neck, gazing up at you with the most submissive and devoted eyes ever. “I don’t want this to stop. Not ever”, he whispers.

“Wow you”, you get out. You have to cradle his cheek and rest your forehead against his, rubbing noses together because the intimacy asks for it. “Me neither. This is so sexy, but also feels like everything I ever wanted.”

“Yeah.” He sighs his words. “Just wanna be with you.”

“Then put it on and let me have you, Yoongi baby. Please, I’ll lose my mind otherwise.”

“Yes, okay.”

He wiggles out of your hug and sits up. You sit back, watching him work.

“You know how to do this, don’t you? You have to make sure to pinch the tip of the condom.”

“I know, I’m not a total noob. I did the thing with my tongue and made you cum, remember?” he teases.

He flusters you a little. He can be so sexy with his wit if only he wants to.

“Shut up, you. How could I forget?” you mumble and nudge his arm.

Yoongi smirks lazily, giving you sexy eyes.

You squeeze his arm, “hurry up, I’m serious.”

“Right. Sorry.”

The condom is put on soon after and you can get back to kissing him. You climb his lap, playing with his hair and grinding your pussy against his cock.

Yoongi has to break the kiss because of it.

“Don’t do this.”

“Not a fan?”

“No. Yes! I like it, but I wanna be inside you. Not cum like this.”

“You’re sensitive again, mhm?”

Yoongi pouts, earning himself a kiss and a chuckle.

“You’re so cute.” You kiss his nose. “How do you want it? I could ride you or I could be on my back? Or do you want to slip inside from behind, mhm?”

“The first one sounds good”, Yoongi squeaks out, gulping. The options you listed are so sexy to think about. He feels droopy.

“Okay, then we’ll do it like this. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready”, he whispers, gazing into your eyes like a love drunk puppy.

“Put your hands on my waist.”

He obeys because it comes natural to him to obey you. You lift your hips and shimmy into the right position. He looks up at you. His heart races so much. He is so ready.

You sink him in.

Yoongi widens his eyes and squeezes your waist. A whimper leaves him against his will.

“Slipped right in, baby. How’s it for you?” you talk to him while you sink down.

Better than anything. Life changing. Unlike anything he could have imagined. The best thing ever. So warm. And soft. So fucking warm. Yoongi has no idea how it is for him because he is currently overwhelmed by it.

“A lot”, he gets out, tensing his thighs under you. He can barely keep his eyes open, feeling dizzy.

“Try focusing on me, baby. Breathe.”

Yoongi takes the shakiest and quickest breaths ever, fluttering his pretty lashes at you. You cradle his face with both hands, rocking back and forth as you take him in.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Keep breathing, that’s it.”

Yoongi always thought of himself to be someone independent, someone who doesn’t need to be babied and pampered. But to be honest? Being held like this and talked to in such a caring way feels really fucking good. Like, really fucking good.

He bottoms out and you waste no time, picking up the most lethal rhythm you learned. You swirl your hips, bouncing up and down on him as you do. And Yoongi is a goner. He squeezes his eyes shut, scrunching his nose. He gets out half of your name then only manages to create little sounds. Gasps and mewls and even a few whimpers. And he doesn’t even feel embarrassed about it because you hold his face in such a comforting way, which in return makes him feel so goddamn needy for pampering.

“Pretty, you’re so pretty. And you feel so good, baby. You’ve got the best cock.”

“Be quiet, please”, he croaks, voice slightly pitched and so shaky.

You chuckle, “you’re not into dirty talk?” you ask, knowing very well that this wasn’t the reason why he told you to shut it.

“Please, don’t tease me”, he instantly figures you out, leaning into your touch because it’s so difficult to keep his head held high. He even pouts, cheeks squishing as they melt into your palms.

“I can’t help it, you are so easy to tease”, you whisper and shove him down into the pillow.

“Ah, wait.”

“You okay?”

Yoongi reaches behind his own head, pulling out his glasses. He checks them.

“Okay, they’re good. I laid down on my glasses”, he says and puts them on, “now I see you in 4K again.”

You snicker, “you’re a dork”, you lean down and kiss his cheek, “and you’re so much fun to ride”, you add in a sweet coo, clenching down on him to really get the point across.

Yoongi twists the edge of the pillow and throws his head back, mouth agape and throat producing the sweetest moans. You give his nose and chin a kiss each, then sit up to show him how much better it can feel. You put your hands on his chest, playing with his perky nipples as you pick up speed.

“Wait. Slow. Please”, he begs, mewling each time you bury him deep inside you. His body is trembling so much and he feels so much pressure in his stomach. It is so deep and hot, spreading down his legs as well. He is repeating himself here, but this just feel so fucking good.

“You’re so sensitive”, you tease, slowing down for his sake. You keep him buried deep inside, swirling your hips back and forth while you rub your hands up and down his chest.

He looks up at you, lids heavy and cheeks flushed. His hair is hanging into his face messily, his fingers squeeze your hips.

“I can’t help it”, he breathes out, gasping for air afterwards.

“But you like it, don’t you?” you are teasing him, which Yoongi instantly figures out.

“Please”, he squeezes your hips in warning, “don’t tease me right now.”

You chuckle, bending down to mouth at his jawline, fingers playing with his hair.

“Sorry, you’re so fun to tease, baby”, you rasp and tug on his earlobe with your teeth.

Yoongi mewls, bucking his hips up involuntarily. It knocks a moan out of you, which you let him feel against his ear. Of course it drives Yoongi crazy. Why shouldn’t it? He bucks his hips up again, melting into a mess when you moan in reaction. One more time.

“Fucking shit”, he gets out, rolling his head to the side you are at, claiming your lips in a messy kiss. He even cradles the back of your head for it, holding your waist with his other hand as he rolls his hips up. It’s intense like this, but manageable. He can control the speed like this and he has to concentrate on moving, which means his brain isn’t solely zoned in on the hot tingles.

It’s also fucking ecstatic how much this makes you moan. Yoongi gets so high from it, breaking the kiss to whisper against your lips.

“Your pussy’s heaven.”

You shiver, twirling his hair.

“You know that if you talk like this and – ah – fuck like this, I wanna ruin you?”

“Do your worst then”, he challenges, which thinking back, was a very stupid idea.

You give him a dirty smirk and sit up.

“Right thumb on my clit. Now.”

Yoongi obeys.

“Good. Play with it”, you order and lift your hips only to slam them down as you begin your punishing rhythm.

Yoongi thought that he could do as he was told. Nope. His thumb stays unmoving because his brain stops working as you increase the pleasure by a hundred. He shouldn’t have challenged you. What a stupid fucking thing he did. He is going to climax. It’s too intense.

“Slow. Please slow, I don’t wanna cum already please.”

“Nah, you wanted it, so bear it.”

“Fuck, urgh, fuck ___.” he growls, scrunching his face.

“I know, baby, I know. Just keep breathing”, you coo, arching your back so you can dance your hips on him. It feels fucking incredible to you because his cock hits the best spots and his thumb is perfect to grind on.

“I was wrong, I can’t cum yet. Please.”

“But Yoongi, I love when you cum”, you taunt, smiling wickedly.

Yoongi whimpers, arching his back helplessly. There is no way in hell that he can last any longer. You fucking ruin him.

“Please, I really can’t hold it anymore”, he tries again, grasping your waist to the point where he bruises you accidentally.

“Then don’t, baby. Be my good boy and cum for me.”

Yoongi always fantasized about how it would be to have you order him to climax. This fantasy helped him over the edge so many times in the past. And now it’s actually happening and it sounds so much sexier than he could have ever imagined.

Yoongi orgasms with a moan of your name, throwing his hand over his face and twisting his own hair this way. His thumb stutters on your clit as he uses what last strength he has left to keep it there.

“Oh my god, how do you look so sexy when you cum? Fuck Yoongi, you’re making me cum too”, you confess, tightening around him as your own high hits you. Being with him was enough to get you there.

He comes down first, mewling as you ride out your high and therefore overstimulate his poor cock. When you finally come down as well, Yoongi swears that he is one second away from crying, glasses dirty from pressing his arm against it.

“Oh god, baby”, you whisper shakily, dropping on top of him, “baby. Yoongi baby, oh my god”, you babble, cradling his face as you kiss every single inch of it. “Baby, oh my baby. You were amazing, oh baby just come here, you.”

Yoongi feels so good. Yes, what old news, but fuck he feels so good. Is it actually humanly possible to feel so goddamn satisfied and loved and giddy? Because he thinks that he might be doing something inhuman right now with how fuzzy he feels.

“How are you? Are you okay?”

“M’kay”, he gets out, nodding his head.

“Yeah? You’re okay? Was it good for you?”

“Yeah. But so short…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was your first time. It’s allowed to be short. Besides, you held out longer than some others. You even thrusted your hips for a little.”

“I guess. I’m…really tired”, he confesses and exhales deeply, rolling his head to the side to stub your palm with his nose. He kisses it next, smiling in such a giddy and pretty way.

Then he giggles, peeling his droopy eyes open to gaze up at you. You scrunch your nose, giggling with him.

“Did we really do this?” he asks.

“We did.”

“Oh god”, he lets out and giggles even harder.

“I know”, you agree, snuggling into him.

He hugs you, rolling to the side so he could really snuggle into you. His dick slips out of you this way, but this is okay because you are hugging and it’s so nice.

It takes you a while to calm down from your giddy giggles and once you do, you are facing each other, sharing air and gazing into each other’s eyes. He is dancing his fingertips up and down your back, while you dance them over his features. His glasses sit on his face weirdly because of the pillow.

He takes them off, snuggling deeper into the pillow afterwards.

“They were annoying.”

“I can imagine.”

That the sex was out of the world is written on both your faces. The silence you share is so familiar, but a hundred times more intimate than it was in the past.

“Does it always feel like this?” he whispers.

“So good?”

“Yeah. I feel fucking amazing. Does it always feel this way?”

“Not with everyone, rarely, I don’t know. It felt like this with you.”

Yoongi’s eyes fill with emotion. He takes a deep breath and exhales, cupping your cheek. You lean into the touch, lowering your lids halfway. You still get butterflies when he touches you like this. He is so gentle with it.

“What are we now?” he asks.

“Can I be honest?”

“Please.”

“If-”

“Actually, if it’s something bad. Can I get dressed first? I don’t wanna get my heart broken naked” he interrupts you.

You chuckle, “can I finish?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. What I wanted to say was. If we are anything other than boyfriend and girlfriend, I will actually cry. I secretly yearned for you for years.”

“I’m so glad that you said this”, he confesses and blushes.

“You are?”

“Yeah. I feel the same”, he says and meets your eyes.

You squeak, having to giggle afterwards because you are so goddamn giddy. Yoongi giggles with you, kissing you back eagerly when you smooch him. And smooch him. And smooch him again.

“Oh my god, Yoongi baby. You’re my boyfie now?”

“Yeah, I’m your boyfie”, he says in a cute way, heart dancing in his chest. “Can I tell people that I’m your boyfie?”

“Of course, oh wow, you’re making my heart burst.” You start babbling which you always do when you’re happy. “Okay, but I need to take you out on a date tomorrow, I’m serious. A real date. Breakfast. The biggest breakfast ever because the restaurant was already closed tonight.”

“What? You didn’t even get dinner?”

“It’s alright. I snacked on you, didn’t I?” you tease, wiggling your brows.

Yoongi looks away, blushing vividly, “shut up, this isn’t funny”, he mumbles, pouting.

You laugh, “I think it is hilarious actually.”

He meets your eyes fondly, squeezing your waist gently.

“Whatever.”

You smile and run your fingers down his temple. Yoongi lowers his lids in relaxation.

“What’s gonna happen to us now?” he asks.

“Right now? We should clean up and pee to prevent UTIs and then we could cuddle.”

“No I mean. For the rest of this trip?”

“Are you trying to figure out if I could be down for more sex?”

He blushes, “maybe?”

You snicker and push him onto his back. You put your arm over his chest, holding his hand above his head. Yoongi looks so happy to be where he is.

“I’d be so down for more”, you tell him, smiling prettily.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Me too. I’m so down”, Yoongi confesses, adding with a blush, “I think I might be obsessed, actually.”

You chuckle fondly and kiss him, knowing that from now on, life will be so much better.

1K notes · View notes

pittrabbit · 2 months ago

Text

warnings: smut, kind of pwp, sexual harassment (from some guy, not pope), afab reader, age gap implied (everyone act shocked), p in v sex, soft dom reader and sub andrew, reader and andrew want each other bad, physical altercation, dry humping, prolonged foreplay, etc etc etc.

summary: you weren't sure how you ended up at this random party by the beach, but you started to regret it when some idiot wouldn't leave you alone. thank god the guy you'd been making eyes at all night decides to come to the rescue.

word count: 5.9k

note: not really happy with this one but here it is i guess!!

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attending a party at some unknown's house by the beach hadn't really been part of tonight's plans. but when your best friend had shown up after work with a pout on her face and an annoying insistence you tag along, you sighed in compliance, slipping on a tiny dress and some kitten heels before trailing behind her.

there was some guy that had invited her, she'd said. you weren't really sure about it, never having heard of the guy or of the people hosting it. she'd stay with you all night, she'd claimed, and apparently parties went down there quite often without any trouble.

you were mostly past your partying days, but being a good friend, you still agreed, knowing it was better to go as a group rather than let her go to a strange place alone.

too bad she hadn't been as good a friend to you at said party.

almost within minutes of your arrival, you'd lost her in the crowd of bodies. as soon as she'd locked eyes with whatever guy she attended the party for, she decided to leave you on your own in favor of going with him. she promised she'd be back, that she'd just hang with him for a while before coming back to you.

and for some stupid reason, you stayed. instead of calling up an uber and drafting some angry text to her, you decided to stay and make the most of it. you wanted to be a good friend, wait around for her so she wouldn't have to go home alone — if she even went back home tonight.

it was a nice house, they had enough drinks to go around, and hell, you looked amazing. it would've been stupid to make the trek back home and waste the twenty minutes it'd taken you to get here (and the hour to get ready) just to turn right back around.

unlike your friend, you weren't really planning to hook up with anyone tonight. you were past your partying era, as you'd told your friend before being dragged here. however, enjoying the atmosphere and maybe dancing a little wouldn't hurt you. you'd keep things casual, just enjoy yourself for an hour or two before searching around for your friend in order to check in (and hopefully leave).

➽──────────────────❥

you grew bored of the party within an hour.

it had quickly turned into rowdy men fucking around in the pool and far too many people spilling their drinks carelessly into the water. after dancing and mingling for a while, you decided to stick to a wall, take the role of a loner and just watch the idiots wrestling one another in the pool.

there was still no sign of your friend (other than a lone text letting you know she'd get back to you soon, she promised!!), and you were in a low social battery mode, so you were really just killing time by holding up the wall.

and you would've been okay with that for another hour or two if it wasn't for the guy that had started harassing you one hour into the party.

it started with a look from across the pool. a very suggestive look, might you add. you were used to those, usually being able to shrug them off and keep it moving. this guy, however, was one of the unlucky insistent ones.

immediately looking away after making eye contact had not been enough of a hint, apparently. no, this man had actually taken that as a sign for him to make his way across the room and join you in holding up the wall.

finding his way to your side, he left about a foot of distance between you as he leaned against that same wall, drink in hand to occupy his hands as he did a terrible job at shooting you subtle looks from the side.

not wanting to be straight up rude, you didn't walk away — a mistake, in retrospect. instead, you became interested in your shoes, the guys fucking around in the pool, the couple making out to your left, just anything but him.

it didnt take long for him to get bored, though. within five minutes or so, that foot of distance became just a few inches, the man now standing shoulder to shoulder with you, leaning down a bit to share his first words with you over the music.

"hey. never seen you around here before. you a friend of the cody's? what's your name?"

god. way too much all at once. not to mention that his breath was too heavy against your ear.

whatever happened to personal space.

"uhm, nope. i'm just here with a friend. actually, i should go look for-"

he stepped closer then, taking your response — however non-receptive as it was — as a welcome to keep talking.

"yeah? i don't see any friend. i've been watching you, actually." he chuckled. "you looked kinda bored. thought id keep you some company."

he smelled like tequila. reeked of it, actually. that was never a good sign. he was clearly drunk, or at least well on his way there.

you took a step back, wanting to revive the space between you. your eyes didnt meet his, knowing he'd also take eye contact as a welcoming sign.

instead, you looked past him. you looked past him in hopes of finding someone else to latch on to, some excuse to walk away.

and past this man's shoulder, you found another pair of eyes watching you, a face you hadn't taken notice of until now.

you kept looking at him, now meeting his eyes. the effect was immediate. the intensity in his gaze had you captivated within mere seconds of focusing your eyes on his own.

he didn't seem to be too tall, but his build made up for it. his arms remained crossed over his chest, a serious look in his eyes. some fresh cuts and bruises adorned his arms, you could tell as much from the small distance between you. there was one on his eyebrow that called your attention. you instinctively wanted to reach out and run your thumb through it, ask if it hurt, how he got it.

usually when meeting someone's eyes in the middle of a crowd like this, someone will look away (usually you), but the two of you stayed focused on one another. you pushed aside any of your surroundings and kept staring, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden feeling his gaze gave you.

he was a little further from the two of you, though still close enough to be able to observe your interaction with precision if he so wished. and it seemed like he was very focused on it. his eyes only left you to stare a hole into the back of the man that had been cornering you. with his eyebrows twisted together, his face showed a expression of slight annoyance at what he was seeing.

you were about to signal him with your eyes, having somehow forgotten the other man in your vicinity, but you were once again rudely interrupted.

"don't be rude, i'm talking to you." he huffed, face tilting to meet your eye line so he could force some eye contact with you.

your eyes finally left the stranger's, refocusing on the unknown man in front of you. you couldn't help but feel even more annoyed now, wanting to continue the silent conversation you were having with the mysterious man, but now being unable to even see him due to your view being blocked by some idiot.

you decided to try again, clearing your throat before responding to him.

"i told you. i'm here with a friend. i should really go look for her-" you made move to walk away, but were interrupted once more, though this time physically.

one of his hands found your arm, grasping it loosely enough to not raise any alarms to anyone nearby, but hard enough to send you a silent message.

"stop lying to me, you cunt. if you're not interested, just fucking say so. have some respect." he practically barked, not caring for the remnants of saliva that slipped out of his mouth.

your fight or flight mode activated as soon as he raised his voice — as soon as he put his hand on you, really. as unfortunate as missing out on more intense eye contact from the cute guy you'd missed sight of felt, you needed to get out of there as soon as possible. before this guy escalated things.

without thinking, you put your unoccupied hand on his chest in order to create some distance between you. that's when you lost your balance and spilled some of the overflow of your drink on him, simultaneously pushing him away with more force than you'd intended.

your eyes were focused on his white shirt, now covered in a burgundy mixture of drinks you'd found in some punch by the kitchen.

before you could react, the man practically growled at you, shaking his head with an angry scoff and throwing his own drink on the floor, making sure it splashed all over your legs before crowding you even more against the wall.

"you fucking bitch. i swear to god, i'm going to-"

you ducked, scared he might hit you or retaliate in some worse way, eyes closed shut and hands covering your face.

but nothing ever came after that.

just a voice. a very neutral one.

"step away." said the voice.

when you opened your eyes, you found the scary man with his hands behind his back, behind him the man with the intense eyes clearly holding him against his will, mouth almost attached to his ear as he directed the threat towards him. his eyes landed on yours when you opened them.

the man tried to get away, failing as he was not as strong as the man who'd stepped in to defend you. "this doesnt concern-"

"either you get the fuck out of my house, or i'll take care of you myself." he tightened his grip, twisting the man's arms and getting a yelp out of him.

he didnt wait for a response, pushing him towards the wall next to you, causing you to jump back at the sudden commotion. a few other partygoers were now watching the scene, but with one threatening look from the man, most of them drew their attention away.

"fucking freak. not worth the trouble anyway." were the last words from that other man, muttered under his breath as he got up and walked away.

the nameless man looked back to you, still looking a little threatening but with a newfound understanding look in his eyes. stretching his hand, he spoke to you.

"come with me."

and you followed, a little shocked and a little shaken up by the other man's actions, but numb enough to not question this guy.

the two of you walked away from the scene, with him leading you without another word.

➽──────────────────❥

within moments, you made it to what you could only assume to be his room. you hadn't asked. you hadn't really said anything in the past five minutes you'd been behind closed doors with your savior.

he'd just led you in here without much information, only telling you "it's empty in here." before taking a seat next to you at the edge of his bed.

he was quiet, serious, a brooding presence. but you still felt safe around him. he'd stepped in and helped you without you so much as asking. any other partygoer near you just ignored what was clearly a threatening presence looming over you while he stepped in and took care of matters within seconds, not a single sign of cockiness or need for praise at his actions.

you'd been attracted to him from the moment you met his eyes. even as you had some other guy showing clear interest in you (far too much, to be honest), your eyes had been glued to his, captivated by the way he looked back at you. you didn't believe in the love at first sight bullshit, but you could at least admit that this was infatuation at first sight. hopefully a mutual one.

"are you okay?"

he finally broke the silence, eyes still ahead of him rather than on you. his posture was relaxed, his avoidance of facing you clearly a result of social awkwardness rather than nerves.

you turned your body to face him, inadvertently causing your knees to touch the side of his thigh.

"yeah, i- thank you for helping me back there, that guy was-"

"yeah. it's no problem." he interrupted, rough, cutting without really meaning to.

silence washed over you again, slightly awkward, slightly comfortable, a weird mixture that left you not knowing what to do.

"uhm, is this your room?" you asked, getting up with some hesitation as you attempted to make some conversation.

"yeah." was all he responded with, though you could now feel his eyes on you, following you as you took slow steps and looked around his room.

you were about to brave a look at some of the stuff around his room before his voice broke out again, making you fully turn your body towards him in question.

"your legs." he began, hand pointing at them as if you needed confirmation as to where they were. "they- his drink spilled all over you. let me help you clean up" he spoke, getting up before even letting you respond.

he exited the room after that, closing it behind him and leaving you there confused.

it only took him a few moments to come back, opening the door and closing it back up as he held rags and a water bottle with him. with the objects in his hands, he gestured at you to sit back down on the bed, to which you obeyed without objection.

now sitting, you gaped at him when he knelt in front of you, nearing your legs far too much for someone you had only exchanged a handful of words with.

"is this okay?" he asked though he'd already uncapped the water bottle, pouring some of its contents on the rag.

"oh, uh, yeah. thanks."

you weren't usually this socially inept, but his blunt yet awkward behavior made you unsure of how to act. you feared that you'd be off-putting to him if you were too forward, but maybe if you kept to yourself too much he'd think you were scared of him. so you opted to just sit there, facing your body towards him and letting him press the damp rag to your calves, which had already gone sticky from letting the punch dry on your skin.

"what's your name?" you asked after a few moments of silence.

he appeared so innocent as he looked up to you. even with the threatening aura he'd displayed outside, he was completely calm in here with you. his wide eyes gave you the opposite effect the man outside had caused in you. you didn't know this man, yet you felt comfortable with him. he was taking care of you. it made you want to return the favor.

him on his knees also caused an entirely different effect on you, but you shoved it aside. it was clear this poor guy had no interest in anything like that. he had you all alone in his room, tiny dress riding up while he had you heavy-breathing at his through a damp rag, yet he remained entirely disinterested.

"andrew."

"andrew." you repeated. "i like it. thank you for all your help, andrew. i'm sorry i caused a scene at your party, i didn't-"

"don't apologize." he interrupted, letting silence invade the room once again.

you couldn't really think of anything else to say, but you didn't want your time with him to end so quickly. maybe he just wasn't interested at all. he kept his answers short, kept all his focus on helping you, getting you cleaned up, didn't engage in any sort of back and forth, nothing that expressed any sort of emotion toward you. those looks earlier at the party must've just been coincidental. he was probably lost in thought and you just so happened to be in his line of sight. there was clearly nothing going on between you.

then he mumbled something. under his breath, not loud or intelligible enough for you to make out.

"sorry?"

you leaned your body down a bit, causing him to look up at you. he stiffened a little when he noticed the closed proximity between you, hand stilling on your calf.

"your name."

you gave it to him, smiling at yourself for getting a few more words out of him.

"i, uh, i like it." he looked back down as he said it, rag now tending to your strappy heels — he was being quite thorough, slow in his movements and gentle as he removed the sticky remnants of alcohol from your skin.

"thank you."

without thinking, your hand went to his hair, fingers running lightly through the curls at the top. they were soft under your touch, long enough for you to pull at if you so wished — and you did wish, only holding back for the sake of decorum.

"i- uh."

you drew your hand away at his discomfort, nose scrunching awkwardly at having crossed a line without meaning to.

"shit, sorry, i-"

"no. it's okay. keep- you can do it again." he looked up at you again, using one hand to draw yours back to his hair, immediately going back to pouring fresh water onto the almost-dry rag and continuing his work.

but you interrupted him, hand leaving his hair in favor of removing the rag from his hand, putting it on the floor next to him.

you had to take advantage of the first time of the night in which he'd been receptive to you. he liked it when you touched him? you could do way better than that.

"why don't you sit up here with me, andrew? i think you've cleaned me up enough."

it was true. by now you were sure he'd even cleaned you off the moisturizer you'd applied on your legs before leaving your apartment. he seemed very adamant in getting you free of any remnant of the party outside, but who were you to complain?

with some hesitation, he let your hand go to his bicep, leading him to sit far too close to you despite his half-hearted attempt to sit a little further. and even as he sat, you didn't let go of his arm, now using your thumb to caress its skin softly, far too softly for someone you'd just met.

"i'm all clean now. see?" your other hand went to his chin, tilting it so he would look down at your legs, but strategically so that his eyes would land on your thighs rather than your calves which he'd been wiping at.

he continued to say nothing, eyes staring straight at your legs before turning back to your eyes, hands firm and resting on his own thighs. you decided to remedy that by taking his hand in yours, resting it atop your legs, fingers intertwined.

"thank you for taking care of me tonight, andrew." you thanked him again, voice sweet, sickly so.

"yeah." he mumbled. he looked down at your interlocked hands before looking back at you, eyes unreadable. but the rising of his chest told you enough.

scooting even closer, legs now completely pressed to his own, you let go of his hand, softly thumbing at the fresh cut on his eyebrow, the same one you wanted to take care of earlier in the day. now you could see it up close, pout at the thought of him hurting even if you didn't know the injury's origin.

"can i return the favor?"

he took a breath, air releasing from his nose, recalibrating almost.

"how?"

"just trust me." you smiled at him. "the same way i trust you."

he seemed to like those words, mouth opening and closing before his hands went down to your waist, aiding you in taking the final step so you could straddle him.

under you, he was sturdy, full of reliable muscle. you could feel the hardness hiding under his skin as your hands gripped at his shoulders. but you didn't need to hold on to him, not when his arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you safely pressed against him.

slowly, as if you couldn't risk any sudden movements, you leaned down, eyes resting heavily on his lips. andrew leaned into you, nose bumping softly into yours, lips gracing over your own. it was tense, breaths mixing together before you finally lost your patience and closed the distance, diving in for an open-mouthed kiss.

maybe it was too needy a kiss to give a guy who seemed to keep to himself, but you were surprised to find that he matched your energy with no complaint. his hands gripped at your hips, his mouth open just like yours, tongue being chased and trapped by yours. your hands traveled from his shoulders to his hair, running your hands through it and pulling lightly at the dark amber strands. this drew a muffled groan from him, wordlessly urging you to do it more.

"andrew." you sighed against him, hips beginning to ground into his own, slowly at first, creating an intimate rhythm between you.

a pained groan left him when you began your movements, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress bunching at your hips. his legs opened further, causing yours to do so too, which made it so you could grind even deeper into him. it took him a few moments to match your movements, but when he did, he had you dizzy, moaning into his mouth and enticing him to lick into it.

"are you sure about this?" he asked, though he didn't falter, unlike his eyes that began fluttering in pleasure.

"so sure."

you said it in between pants. you were already affected by him, enough to have your head dropping on his shoulder. taking advantage of the angle, your lips trailed the sharp line of his jaw, finding a sensitive point at the end of it and latching your teeth lightly on the skin.

"fuck."

that was enough encouragement for you to keep going. if you left marks, that was andrew's problem for tomorrow. his skin was already decorated in scars of all kinds, what was a few love bites among them?

"that feels- that feels good."

"i can make you feel even better." you offered with a teasing smile against his skin.

"yeah?"

you nodded with a giggle. you were already lightheaded at the situation — in a good way. in an amazing way. biting your lip as you looked down at him, you lifted your hand, tracing the side of his face lightly, thumb landing on his chin and lifting his face towards yours. below you, you found the prettiest pairs of eyes staring directly into yours. and he seemed just as affected as you. he appeared pained, the sound of his panting filling the room as you delayed the pleasure you'd promised him. your hips had stilled by now, which seemed to be much to his dismay.

"yeah." was all your whispered back before closing the distance once more, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth and sucking at it before kissing him again.

this time your hands went down to his shirt, beginning to unbutton it before his hands took over, rushing the process and practically throwing his shirt off. when his hands finally became disoccupied, you dragged yours up and down his chest, appreciating every ridge created by the strong muscle adorning his abdomen. you moaned in satisfaction at the feeling of his warm, muscled skin, making him hum in appreciation.

"god, andrew, look at you."

he had you dizzy with desire. he was so docile, so sweet for you despite his hardened exterior. his skin was so perfect under yours. and his every reaction to your touches had you losing your mind. he was yours in this moment. it was an unspoken agreement. his body sought your touch, a service you were more than willing to provide.

reaching behind you, you guided his hands from your back to the hem of your dress, silently guiding him into lifting it up and throwing it off.

his eyes widened slightly at the sight of bare skin, only covered by a bra and panties. gaze finding you, he opened his mouth as if to ask for something but giving up before the words left him. you answered anyways, pulling his head towards your chest and sighing when his mouth immediately went to kiss and suck at the nude skin.

the barrier your bra caused drove you mad within seconds, so you remedied it by practically ripping it off and letting it fall aside. this earned you another gratuitous groan from the man whose lips were attached to your chest.

softly, his kisses made their way to your breasts, face nuzzling into your skin as he dampened your skin with his saliva. his lips wrapped around your nipple, licking at it with a sigh of relief, reserving his more depraved sounds for when your fingers would dig a little harder into his hair.

"a-andrew ... that feels so nice." you sighed in an almost-whisper. "love your mouth, angel. shit."

and, god, did he like your words.

the groan he let out at that was grueling. it only intensified his kisses, which now morphed into suckles and bites of your nipples. his hands were now digging into your skin, holding you against him as if it were urgent. your hips began moving away, making your eyes roll back at the friction and the feeling of his mouth combined.

"let me make you feel good, handsome." you bit your lip, looking down at him as you pulled his head away from your tits, using herculean effort to not lose your mind at the needy look on his eyes.

the poor guy was so starved of touch, so pliant and willing to do anything you wanted. it was a fucking dream come true. he was barely doing anything, yet he was doing an excellent job at breaking your resolve.

you softly pushed at his chest to lay him down on the bed, his honeyed eyes never leaving yours. before sitting on him again, you dragged off your panties and threw off your heels. that's when you found his hands gripping at the sheets as he looked up at you. he reeked of silent desperation. there was no way this man would take what he wanted from you on his own. you'd have to give it to him, and just imagining how much effort his self-control must've taken him made you lose your own.

you sat back on him, wet cunt likely ruining his pants. your hands undid his belt, haphazardly pulling his pants down while you remained on top. after the fact, you were now straddling him, with his boxers remaining the final layer between you.

biting your lip, your hands dragged up and down his body, appreciating how perfectly laid it was for your taking. he practically whimpered at your teasing touches, swallowing back groans when your fingers trailed up to his nipples and circled around them, not touching but coming near enough for the desired effect of your touch.

"you want this, baby?"

"please."

he was so polite, such a pent-up pretty little thing under you.

you leaned down, body splayed over his own as your lips wrapped around the shell of his ear, nibbling at it lightly.

"tell me how much you want me."

he inhaled, a shaky breath leaving him in return.

"i want you. please-"

"yeah?" you smiled, hands trailing their way down to his middle, fingers teasingly trailing the outline of his cock trapped within his boxers.

it practically wept under you. twitching at your initial touch, you reached under the fabric and wrapped your hand around it, lowering the fabric with your other hand for better access. his breath was heavy when you began working him, head lowering to your shoulder and mouthing at the skin there. his noises were quiet and mostly controlled, but every so often you'd get a broken moan out of him that had you tightening around nothing.

not too long after, you lifted yourself up by your knees, dick on one hand while you balanced yourself with the other by gripping his shoulder. grabbing onto him, you ran the tip up and down the length of your cunt, circling it on your swollen clit for a few moments. this drew moans out of the two of you, which you silenced by pulling him into a deep kiss.

"got a condom, baby?" you interrupted between kisses.

this made him grip you tighter in realization, slowly halting his kisses.

"maybe on my nightstand?"

you reached behind him, removing most of your weight from him. his hands gripped your hips even tighter. he didn't want to let go, risk ending this before it even started. you instinctively pouted at the act, stopping for a second to give him a reassuring kiss on his lips before you attempted to retrieve the condom once more.

once it was in your hand, you did the usual song and dance of ripping it open, pinching the tip and lowering it on his hardness. he hissed at this, mumbling a curse as he looked down at the space between you. when you finally lined him up, lowering yourself on him, you released a sigh of relief.

andrew filled you up to completion. he was so warm and perfect inside you, curving deliciously. it hadn't been in your plans to end the night like this, but the feeling of andrew inside you was all you needed to turn your mind around.

"is that good, baby?" you whispered into his ear.

with the muffled music outside, it felt like the two of you were in a world of your own. you felt as if andrew was your secret, like you could keep him all to yourself as long as no one invaded your bubble.

"feels good. yeah, you feel ... fuck."

"i'm gonna move now, okay? wanna make you cum, andrew."

he gave you yet another pained look, but nodded lightly before settling his hands on your waist. his fingers found purchase on your skin, helping guide your bounces on his lap. it started slow and mellow, passionate almost.

andrew was a quiet man, unnervingly so, but the small sounds of pleasure he released had you in incomparable state of ecstasy. knowing that your swollen walls had him losing his composure, trying but failing to keep down his groans of pleasure, it made your eyes roll back, it made your nails dig into his back, leaving marks you hoped would keep a memory of you instilled in his brain for days to come.

he nosed at your neck, burying his head in the hollow and breathing you in deep. one muscled hand went up to your head, digging his fingers in your hair to ensure you couldn't go anywhere. he seemed to have some unspoken fear that you'd abandon him, not realizing just how good he'd made you feel from the moment your eyes found his.

there was nothing you wanted more than to make him feel good, to break him, ruin him, keep yourself buried in his mind and make him think of you every night he laid on this bed.

"you feel so amazing, andrew. so perfect for me." your hips sped up, creating that erotic sound of slapping skin.

you pressed your hands flat on his chest, softly pushing him to fully lay down on the bed. his eyes, though silent, told you that he did not want any space between you, so you remedied his fear before he could voice it by pressing yourself flat against him, dragging your hips up and down.

your clit dragged perfectly against his pelvis. his hands perched themselves on your ass, aiding your movements. he groaned at the sensation, legs settling flat on the bed to begin driving his hips up into yours. that's when it all became a filthy exchange between you. up until then, it'd all been soft, intimate, but now it was a passionate mess.

"i need you to come." andrew huffed, head throwing back when you tightened at his voice. "need to get you there for me."

"i'm almost there, baby, just- fuck, keep fucking me."

every whine, every scratch of skin, he was receptive to it all. you could feel the physical effect you had on him. without much words, he made you feel wanted, as if he couldn't breathe if he didn't make you feel good. his hands could not get their fill of you, being dragged up and down every inch, fingers tracing every ridge they could hang on to.

"you're so good, andrew- so fucking good." you praised when he brought his hand down to your clit. he knew just how to touch you to get you melting for him, not needing even a nudge in the right direction.

"come for me." he practically pleaded. "i want it. need it." he groaned in a whisper.

and then you came, nails dragging down his chest, surely leaving your mark on his skin, just as you'd wanted. if it hurt, he expressed no pain, only faltering the hammering of his hips when his orgasm finally caught onto him. he buried himself in you as deep as he could, face deep in the crook of you neck as he kissed and sucked a last few love bites into your skin.

when he finished, he didn't let go, instead flipping you off him so you'd lay side by side. he only pulled out when it became uncomfortable, throwing the condom to the side and reaching out to you immediately after. he wanted you close, which you appreciated.

his hands ran up and down your body, latching onto your leg and pulling it to wrap around his waist, removing any possible separation between you. it was like he wanted to melt into your skin, as his hands refused to stop rubbing at every curve they could get to. with his head buried in your neck, he nosed at your skin, breathing it in deep and pressing the occasional chaste kiss there.

"don't leave yet." he broke the silence. "you can leave if you want, just ... just stay like this for a while."

the defeated tone of his voice made you frown. it made you want him closer, want to become his comfort. you wanted him inside you again, but not in a sexual way. in that moment, you'd do anything to make him feel as safe as he'd made you.

you wrapped your hands around him, hands running through his curls as you held him against your chest, cradling him like a baby in your arms.

"i'll stay as long as you'll let me." you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "just wanna be here with you."

he shuddered, kissing your chest again and again.

"thank you."

➽──────────────────❥

note: wouldnt be me if it didnt turn domestic at the end

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