#tag yourself i'm lower right corner

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][aged up!][college-type au][friends to more?][cute lil blurb][anal][sloppy fuck][spit down the crack][claustrophobia warning][finger-sucking][muffled][anal creampie][orgasm denial][mdom][just a lil' sumn-sumn][spit][rough sex][my beta reader is asleep][for my anon mark girlies][no plot, just porn]

"Thank God you're here." Mark hisses under his breath, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist before tugging you towards one of the random closets, and shoving you in, alongside coats and brooms.

"Play Truth or Dare with me."

The request catches you off guard, and you stare at him, upper lip curled in distaste.

"What am I, twelve?"

"No, you're my best friend and you need to do twelve year old things with me." He huffs before pursing his lips. "That didn't come out right but—"

"Why are you playing Truth or Dare anyway?" You question. "You don't like party games."

"I got roped into it! Now you need to help me or else."

"Or else what?"

"Exactly."

You let out a huff, swatting Mark in the back of his head, watching as his hands reach for the back of his scalp, brows creasing into a pinched frown.

"I'm not letting you rope me into the potential situation of putting my mouth on someone else's filthy ass, dirty ass, grimy ass mouth."

You seethe.

"That's like saying you want me to put a turd in my mouth. Because that's what'll happen."

"But you might get to put your mouth on my mouth. Isn't that better?" Mark tries to appease you, brilliant brown eyes twinkling as he looks down at you, his hands moving to rest on your shoulders, thumbs brushing against the soft skin exposed by the rather wide-neck of your T-shirt.

"A cute cat turd is still a turd, Mark." You deadpan before letting out a huff, scowling up at him.

"Fine." You hiss. "But you owe me."

ִֶ��𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

"And we meet again."

The grin that creeps onto Mark's face is shit-eating, dimples in his cheeks popping and he leans back against the wall, arms crossing over his broad chest, and you watch the lean muscles of his arms flex. Definitely intentional.

Just like the dare to be in the closet.

"You're vagina repellent in a knitted sweater. I hope you know that."

The laugh that Mark let's out is melodious, slivers of light creep under the door and paint the wooden interior with faint light, features shadowy as Mark drops to the floor, legs extended and jeans straining against the muscles of his thighs.

It's an appealing sight.

Invincible, staring up at you through dark lashes, chocolate hued eyes locked on your form in that way that's always been too... Assessing to be friendly. And a hand wraps around your ankle, his thumb gently brushing over the tightly wound laces of your boot before gently guiding your foot to rest over his crotch. He feels the weight of your leg and you feel the weight of his gaze, boring into you.

"That was mad smooth, wasn't it?" Mark breaks the tension-ridden silence and your only answer is a snort, before you crouch down, planting yourself on his shins instead of sitting on the floorboards.

"It was, I'm not gonna lie." You concede, your thighs on either side of you, sneakers tucked on either side of your ass and your hands rest lazily on Mark's thighs.

"How long do we need to be in here?" You question with a hum, picking at the lint of his jeans, attention lowered so that you don't have to meet that million-eyed stare of his.

"15-ish minutes." Mark hums. "20 if we wanna do something."

The snort that leaves your lips has his mouth twitching into a little grin. He's always loved the way your lips curl, the way your eyes twinkle the slightest bit and the way your chest heaves when you take that breath.

"Is that you telling me you wanna do you something?" You tease with a hum, leaning forward and tugging playfully on the V-neck of his sweater vest.

There's always been a bit of a 'will-they won't-they' situation between you and Mark.

Shy gazes, and soft touches, the way your eyes would automatical crinkle at the corners whenever you'd catch sight of him and the way his jokes would automatically become more pandered towards you than anyone else.

Mark genuinely doesn't give a shit if no one else finds him funny, but as long as you do, it's a win.

Even if it's just a stupid snort that leaves you.

"Yeah." Mark's voice breaks the silence, his tongue dragging slowly across his top row of teeth, from one canine to the other. "I wanna do something."

"Shit—" You gasp, the coolness of the closet wall pressed against your cheek, hands splayed against the surface and your skirt around your waist, panties discarded to God knows where and Mark's voice is a breathy pant, his hips snapping against yours.

The burning stretch is painful, your nails nearly peeling paint from the walls before Mark's hips slow to a tantalizing grind, his hands moving from the cool surface of the wall before palming the fleshy globes of your ass, spreading the plush and looking at where your tight, furled hole sucks him in so sweetly, pulsing around his thick, weepy cock.

"Ohhhh, so fuckin' pretty."

Your gummy walls flutter when you feel that cooling glob of spit run down the crease of your ass, parting only to lubricate where Mark has you speared on his cock, hips rolling and grinding to reach the deepest crevices of your insides.

His palm collides with the jiggly flesh of your ass, and he drinks in your weak, whiny whimpers, as your hands continue to attempt to stabilize you inbetween the mindboggling thrusts that have your tongue lolling and drool trickling down your bottom lip.

Two digits force your plush lips to part, fingertips pressing against the flat of your tongue, fucking your mouth sloppily while his cock continues to fuck into you with reckless abandon.

"Where am I?" Mark huffs, one hand grasping the fat of your ass cheek with the desperation of a man dying in 20 minutes and his other fucks your mouth, fingers bullying the back of your throat until you gag, thick globs of saliva spilling from your lips with each painfully hard thrust.

"Tell me where I am." He repeats.

"M—my ass..." You whine, words muffled and eyes brimming with tears, your mascara's ruined and your lipgloss is smeared across your chin.

Mark's cock twitches, smearing precum against your sensitive walls that keep sucking him in with neediness, your cunt clenching around nothing and slick dripping down your thighs. There's nothing that makes him harder than the way your eyes flutter when he hits particularly deep, when he leans forward and gets even deeper.

He likes the way your voice deepens and you let out that groan that makes his hips stutter just a bit.

"Tell me you like it." He breathes out, smearing his saliva and spit covered hand across your features, very much ruining your makeup and you gasp shakily. "Tell me I'm doing a good job, baby. And I'll let you come."

The promise of being able to extinguish that paining burn that's been fizzing in your belly is magnetic and you don't even know when your swollen lips part to whine and mewl.

"I like— I love the way you fuck m-my ass— ...shit— you're so good at fucking me, Mark. Don't stop, please."

You sound pathetic and if you weren't so cock drunk, you'd have cringed at how weak you sound.

But your back is arched like a cat, your face is messy and your ass is being treated like a fleshlight, so you're not too capable of being a bitch.

Not when Mark's hiking up your leg, his hips speeding up in the way that has you muffling your screams, biting down onto his fingers before his hips still and you feel the way warmth fills your insides.

Cum leaks around his cock, pearly droplets forming pools at your knees and soaking into the carpet below you, and you pant weakly when Mark pulls his cock from your ass.

And he watches his snowy slick trickle out of your puckered hole, and down your slippery and neglected folds, and dripping.

It's damn near uncomfortably cramped but Mark finds his way, pushing you against the wall as lowers his head, dragging his tongue through your sodden folds, his cum coating his tongue before he spits it back at your cunt, watching the way your hole clenches.

There's nothing sexier than the way your body twitches and shakes when he eats his cum, his hands grasping your fleshy thighs so tightly that he's definitely leaving indentations. His lips find purchase, suckling at your clit and rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub, and your hips buck.

Your toes curl and you feel the way your belly burns with an oncoming orgasm.

And you feel the burn increase tenfold when Mark grabs your hand, gently easing three of your own fingers into your still abused hole, and you whine, staring at him over your shoulder.

Mark looks unapologetically feral, sucking and tongue fucking your cunt before he meets your gaze, hazy brown eyes staring at you from below long lashes.

"I never thought you'd look this pretty with your ass stuffed."

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@fayethefaerie 🦋

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷

@allycat4458 🪻

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

@theamazkngskye 🍄

@titchx0 🦆

[pieandflannel]

I'm in a Jensen Ackles community, and someone posted that they wanted a fic about the reader liking Jensen's hands. I love your writing and think you could do it justice. If this isn't something you'd want to do, you can ignore this. 😊

They also said they wanna be tagged, @/deanwinchestersgirl8734

౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ veins and vows

pairing: jensen ackles x fem!reader

summary: jensen catches you staring at his hands which gives him a cheeky little idea

cw: 18+ smut/fluff.ᐟ soft dom!jensen.ᐟ reader has a hand kink.ᐟ teasing.ᐟ praising.ᐟ breast & pussy play.ᐟ pre-established relationship [married].ᐟ jensen is a teasing menace.ᐟ

word count: 987

julia yaps: thank you so much @multiversefanfics for thinking about me it’s so sweet and considerate of you. i didn’t get much details about what you wanted so I hope this is okay

────────── 🤞 ──────────

“you’re staring sweetheart” said jensen with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, his gaze focused on the script he was currently reading through.

you snapped out of your thoughts and went back to cutting the vegetables for dinner, your cheeks catching on a slight shade of pink, feeling flustered that he caught you staring at his hands. “sorry” you murmured.

but at least he couldn’t read your mind right? he couldn’t tell you were imagining his hands roaming all over your body in a meaningful and sensual manner, his big hand wrapped around your throat as with his other hand his fingers work you open, slowly, one finger then two, maybe three. his thumb circling your swollen clit.

he couldn’t tell you were thinking all that right?

but come on can you blame yourself? his hands are so pretty but at the same time so masculine, decorated with age, kissable freckles and veins, a watch on his wrist, tattoo on his thumb and a silver wedding band on his finger that represented his undying love and loyalty for you. you shamefully worshipped your husbands hands as if they were sculpted my michelangelo himself, and he secretly knew it despite you trying to hide it.

he glanced up from his notes and couldn’t help but smile softly as he noticed just how embarrassed you were at him catching you gawking.

an idea popped in his head, he cleared his throat, putting down all the papers onto the table and he stood up, taking his empty coffee mug and walking over to the kitchen counter. his walk was slow, almost like a predator creeping up on it’s prey.

you looked up and flashed him a smile before going back to focusing on not cutting your fingers off with the kitchen knife.

jensen put the coffee mug down by the drip machine, pressed the button to make more coffee and walked behind you, his broad physique towering over your smaller one. his front pressed up against your back.

he gently placed his hands on your hips and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, then another one on your neck and lastly onto your shoulder.

“babe~” you let out a giggle as his beard tickled your delicate skin, your cute little giggle making him smile. he gently squeezed your waist before snaking one of his hands up your shirt, moving higher up, just below your bra.

your breath hitched slightly as you tried to focus on slicing the vegetables and not his hand placement, but jensen made it real hard when he sneaked his hand under your lace bra to cup your breast. his hand big and warm.

his other hand gradually shifting lower and lower, his fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts. “babe wha-what are you doing?” you managed to stutter out with a smile.

he hummed in your ear, a big smug smile on his face. “nothing” he replied with an innocent tone which you didn’t fall for. “mhm sure” you chuckled and playfully rolled your eyes.

his hand softly massaged your breast, his thumb brushing against your hardening nipple which made you let out a shaky breath. you had to put the knife down in order not to hurt yourself or him by accident. your lips parted as your breathing became heavier.

“you know what i’m thinking of right now?” jensen whispered into your ear, his breath tickling your neck which sent shivers down your spine.

“n-no?” you accidentally whimpered out. he couldn’t help but smirk at how worked up you seemed to already be.

his veiny hand suddenly leaving your breast and gripping you teasingly by the throat, his fingers wrapping round you deliciously.

“having my hand wrapped round your throat as my other hand plays with your pretty little pussy” his other hand sliding into your shorts and panties, his middle and ring fingers finding their way between your folds with practiced ease. “oh would you look at that, sooo wet, already?” he teased in a slightly mocking tone as he spread your arousal with his middle finger, using it as lube.

you gasped out as he suddenly brushed against your bundle of nerves, your hands weakly grabbing a hold onto his wrists which only made him chuckle. you tilted your head back, resting it on his muscular shoulder. his facial hair brushing against your temple.

his hand teasingly tightening around your throat as his thick digits circled your clit painfully slow, a soft moan slipping your lips. your eyes closing as your back arched leading to your ass brushing against his crotch. “j-jensen..” you breathed out his name like it was some secret.

“shhh shhh it’s okay sweetheart” jensen cooed into your ear, his fingers sliding up and down your slit. “just focus on my hands, in your panties and around your neck…you’re doing so good for me sweetheart” he praised, his words making you melt right there on the spot. he gave your cheek a soft kiss and continued to play with you.

as tension was building up in the pit of your stomach, your grip on his wrists became gradually weaker. jensen could tell that you were getting close by how your body tensed up underneath his touch.

then suddenly his phone started ringing, jensen couldn’t stop the small smirk forming on his face, he was waiting for this important call for a while now, knowing damn well he will leave you waiting, on edge and unsatisfied until later.

“i gotta get that, it’s important” he whispered with a smirk before giving you another soft kiss on the cheek and slowly pulling away, reaching into his pocket for his phone with one hand and licking off your arousal from his other.

“i’m not finished with you yet” he said, giving you a cheeky little wink before picking up the call and walking away into the living room.

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

tags: @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @missus-ackles @littlesoulshine @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @bittersweetfig @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @rositaslabyrinth @deanspookiebear @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @miss-marmalade @pinksatinpanties @multiversefanfics @cupidzbunny @sunnyteume @lunaleah

𑁥౿ check out my masterlist for other works!

♡ see this post to be added to the taglist!

© pieandflannel – do not plagiarise or repost any of my work!

© reserved for photo/gif owners!

© diver by @cafekitsune <3

[bunny-jpeg]

next level

lando norris

request: “Just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” w/ Lando Norris 43. “just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.”

tags: smut/pwp, established relationship, teasing& seduction, video games, cough sex, cowgirl position

eros (the valentine's day collection)

just because it wasn't sim racing, doesn't mean it didn't require lando's full attention. but it was hard to beat the level when his loving, beautiful girlfriend would not get away from the front of the television.

he wouldn't deny it, you were beautiful. but lando had been trying to beat his level for over an hour, and he was so close before you stood in front of the television screen. your arms crossed and your hip cocked slightly to the side. your gaze stayed on him as he tried to see the screen behind you.

"lando... it's eleven-forty. time for bed."

he exhaled and said, “just let me finish this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” his words were promising. but with the season around the corner, the future world champion needed his rest. and you knew exactly how to get him settle for the evening.

he breathed a sigh of relief when you moved away from the television and towards him on the couch, you were pressed right up against him and pushed back his curls. you chuckled lowly and he tensed up a little.

"honey. baby. please." he said.

"i'm not doing anything. you wanted to keep playing, then keeping playing." your hand trailed across his clothed chest, you added a little pressure when your thumb grazed his nipples. sensitive spot. you were breaking out all the stops for this.

you touched his skin and he tried to navigate the level, he could feel the tightness in his sweatpants from your tender touches. his focus was split between the difficulty of the level and when you were going to do next. hard to say what you were going to do, your expression was unreadable.

"honey." he said.

"focus, lando." you cooed before your hand dipped lower and you grasped his hardening cock through his sweatpants. you chuckled lightly to yourself as you watched him squirm. trying his best to focus.

you could see the muscles of his neck move as he swallowed, the feeling was getting in his head. it was cute, to see him squirm. but he was so determined to finished this level. you were just providing moral support!

"oh shit, right there." he muttered as he missed the jump in the level and had to restart. you rubbed his cock through his sweatpants and you watched him squirm a little. his length throbbed under your touch and you smiled a little. how cute.

you chuckled lightly and continued to tease his cock, you watched him struggle and admired the sight of him. he looked sweet as he tried to fight back the pleasure that coursed through him. you watched him fail the level again and again and once more before he threw the controller to the side and grabbed you.

"come here." he said as he pulled you close to him. he got you up in his lap with his hands in your sweatpants and under your underwear. he kept his gaze on you as he rubbed your slit against his talented fingers.

"someone's needy." you remarked with a small laugh. you took him by the face and pulled him in for a hot kiss. he groaned against your lips as you rubbed yourself up against him. it felt beautiful, you felt like a dream.

when he pulled away, he looked up at you and remarked, "well, i think i just had a revelation. your hot pussy is a lot better than video games." then continued to rub your clit before you got your bottoms off.

your wetness rubbed against the fabric of his grey sweatpants. you felt the curl of excitement through you as the two of you moved against each other on the couch. you rubbed up against each other and it left you both feeling hotter.

his hands gripped your bare ass he looked up at you, there was a lustful twinkle in his eye and you smiled down at him. he looked good under you. he gave you ass a light slap, "fuck you're hot."

you held him by his cheeks and said, "and you're hotter when you're not wasting your evening on video games." then kissed him once more before you got his cock out of his sweatpants. you rubbed yourself up against his leaky length before you sank yourself on him.

"lando. fuck." you exhaled.

he moaned into the next kiss and held you tighter, helped you onto him. you took him beautifully, he slipped in without much struggle. and it only made him relax against the couch a little more. it was a hot feeling, you made a fire burn inside of him with each of your slow thrusts.

you held onto his shoulders and moved your body. your worked yourself on his cock as you kept kissing him. heavy breathing and small moans filled the living room air underneath the loud sound of the video game's music. he held on tightly and guided you up and down his cock. the two of you seemed to move at a similiar pace with no words spoken.

he understood you and you understood him. when you broke away from the kiss, the two of you gazed at one another. lando soon buried his face between your clothed breasts and groaned, "fuck, that feels good. right there, fuck, baby." he shuddered from the intense pleasure of it all.

he felt like a fool for ignoring you, but thankful that you were determined. because with your slick cunt around his cock, the pleasure felt better than any stress of the game. he groaned once more into your chest and you pulled his hair a little.

"see." you said, "should've just come to bed. got all comfy under the covers and let me ride you until you saw stars. i know i'm better than that stupid game, and i'm glad i could make you see the error of your ways." your voice was cheeky and lando just groaned against you.

"you're right, you're right." he panted.

it was no secret that lando loved your pussy, he loved having sex with you. you could recall when he was on the road and he was near begging for photos of you. not even nudes. just something to tide him over until he could smother himself in your love. to him you were divine and he wanted to bask in your holiness.

the two of you continued to move together under the bright light of the television screen. it was late in the evening, you two should be in bed. and while having sex on the couch wasn't your ideal location for fucking, it still felt nice.

lando's cock was snug inside of you and it made you toes curl from the pleasure. the thrumming of your heart while you moved against him left you panting and lustful for the man you had your arms wrapped around. you kissed him once more, moans were shared and you felt the pleasure rise in your body like steam over hot water.

at least lando could admit that it felt better. to fuck you was a treat that he indulged himself in and as he moved harder against you, he wanted more. you moaned into the kiss and he gripped your ass once more before he wrapped both arms around your middle tightly. it gave him better leverage to fuck you with.

your noises got hotter and more needy, the lust was intense in your core. the two of you moved quickly against one another as the pull of orgasm drew closer. you whined, he panted when the kiss was broken. you were both needy for one another.

"i'm close." you whined.

he held on tightly and said, "then cum for me. c'mon, fuck. i need it. cum for me and i'll spend the rest of the night eating out that fucking beautiful pussy until you can't cum anymore." his breathing was heavy.

you dug your nails into his back and with a few more thrusts of your hip, you finished on his cock. when you slowed down, lando worked up into you faster. your noises were higher pitched and the feeling radiated through you.

he came soon after with his face between your chest. he tensed up for a moment as he came then relaxed. he panted against your soft t-shirt as he relaxed a little bit. he shakily exhaled and pulled his head away, "wow."

you chuckled and kissed him gently on the lips, "i know. i guess it's time for bed." you winked at him.

lando reached for the control, "one more try of the level... then i'll go bed." he booted the game up again with his semi-hard cock still inside of you.

you gave him a death glare. next time, you promised yourself, you'd drag him by the ears to bed if you had to. <3

[darklucielle]

Little Deadly Secret

Aespa Winter x M Reader

Tags: Public sex, Cementery, Childhood trauma, Mention of Abuse

(Third Person POV)

I warning y'all. This isn't a normal smut. Proceed with caution.

"Come here, baby. Trust me, I know a great place for us to fuck each other brains out." Winter said while she's dragging her you towards to the quiet cementery.

It was over midnight, The quiet and scary atmospere of the cementery spooked you out but it'a different from Winter. She's smiling ear to ear. Practically skipping herself through the headstones.

Until she stopped into one headstone and faced you. Her smile is quite different from what you used to. She wrapped her arms around your neck and leans close. Her breath brushes your lips. Eyes full of mischied and desire.

"Let's fuck here. Right here, right now."

It made you shocked, Thinking if she's just trolling but her eyes tell that she's dead serious.

"A-Are you sure about this, Winter? We could just go to our apartment and do it there instead here."

"Come on, babe." she purred, her voice low and seductive. "Don't be such a scaredy-cat. We're alone out here... well, mostly alone." A sly grin tugged at the corner of her lips as she glanced around at the surrounding headstones.

Winter reached down to unzip her coat, revealing her naked body underneath. She cupped her perky breasts, giving them a playful squeeze before letting her hand wander lower, cupping her wet cunt.

"I want you so bad, right here, right now." she breathed, her fingers slowly moves circles at her glistering folds.

You swallowed hard, torn between the thrill of doing something forbidden and the very real risk of getting caught. But Winter's sensual touch and sultry words were slowly wearing you down.

"You know I love you, but..." You trailed off, gesturing helplessly at the surroundings.

Winter let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. "Oh, stop being such a party pooper! It's just sex, not a marriage proposal."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she turned and bent over the headstone, presenting her ass to you. The cold stone pressed against her stomach as she looked back at you over her shoulder, biting her lip enticingly.

"C'mon, give me what I want." she cooed, wiggling her hips invitingly. "Fuck me like you mean it, right here."

Your resolve crumbled under the onslaught of her provocative display. With a groan, you stepped closer, your hands roaming over her curves as you ground your erection against her rear.

"Oh, you naughty girl." you murmured, nipping at her earlobe. "Getting me all hot and bothered in a place like this..."

You reached around to palm her breast, pinching her stiff nipple. Winter let out a soft moan, arching into your touch.

"Just remember, if we get caught, I'm blaming you."

spinning her around to face you. Your lips crashed against hers in a passionate kiss, tongues tangling as you walked her backwards until she hit the cold marble of the gravestone again.

Her legs wrapped around your waist instinctively, drawing you closer as both of you busy devouring each other. The chill of the stone seeped into her skin, but the heat of desire quickly eclipsed it.

"Mmm, someone's eager." she panted when they finally broke for air, her fingers fumbling with the zipper of your jeans.

With a swift tug, she freed your straining cock, wrapping her hand around the thick length and stroking it slowly. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, and she swiped it up with her thumb, spreading the slickness along your shaft.

"So big and hard for me already." she praised, guiding it to her entrance. "Give it to me, baby. Fill me up right here, right now."

With a low growl, you thrust into her welcoming heat, burying yourself to the hilt. Winter cried out, her nails digging into your shoulders as you began to move, setting a relentless pace.

"Fuuuck, you feel amazing!" You grunted, pounding into her with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the quiet cemetery, mingling with their ragged breaths and her high-pitched moans.

You gripped her hips tightly, using the leverage to drill deeper, harder. The headstone rattled ominously behind them, but neither of you cared – lost in the intense pleasure.

Her inner walls clenched around your shaft, milking it as she's on the brink of climax. Her head thrashed from side to side, Hair whipping wildly in the cool night air.

"Yes, yes, yes! Right there, don't stop!"

With a final, brutal thrust, you sent her over the edge. Her pussy spasmed around your shaft, pulsing with each wave of her orgasm. Her scream of ecstasy mingled with the distant howling of wind through bare branches.

Feeling her quivering walls start to relax, you gave a few more deep strokes before your own release flooding her depths in long, heated spurts.

But Winter isn't satisfied yet. She bend over again and spread her ass cheeks to show you her puckered butthole.

"Let's do it again, Fuck me in the ass."

You couldn't resist the tantalizing sight of her pinkish butthole, your spent cock already stirring to renewed life.

"Damn, you're insatiable." you chuckled, pressing a finger against her puckered hole. "But who am I to deny you?"

Slowly, You pushed your finger in, savoring the initial resistance before she relaxed, allowing you to sink your finger deeper. You curled the finger, searching for that special spot that would make her moan.

"There it is." You whispered, finding the sweet bundle of nerves. "Gonna make you feel so good, baby."

Withdrawing your finger, You replaced it with the broad head of your cock, teasing her hole with shallow thrusts before gradually pushing in, inch by delicious inch.

As Winter felt your thick cock slowly pushed into her ass. She rolled her eyes upwards and lewdly tongue out. Lets her drool staining the headstone. Giving it a disrespectful mess to it..

Her lewd display only spurred you on, your grip on her hips tightening as you pulled back and slammed forward with renewed vigor. The headstone beneath her face scraped against her cheek, leaving a trail of saliva and sex.

"That's it, take my cock!" You growled, pistoning in and out of her ass with brutal force. "You wanted rough? I'll give you rough."

The cold stone seemed to vanish from her consciousness as waves of intense pleasure washed over her. Her screams of delight echoed through the cemetery, mingling with the obscene slap of flesh on flesh and the creaking of the ancient headstone beneath her.

"Don't stop, don't ever stop!" she wailed, her body shaking with each merciless thrust. "Fuck me harder!"

Lost in the primal rhythm of sex, You pounded into her willing ass with reckless abandon. The headstone, once a solemn monument to the dead, now served as a makeshift altar for the depraved worship.

"You're mine, all mine. Every hole, every part of you belongs to me."

With a particularly vicious thrust, you bottomed out, your balls slapping against her clit. Winter's back arched, a loud moan from her throat as she hurtled towards another explosive climax.

"Yes, yes, YES!" she shouted, her entire body twitching as the orgasm ripped through her. "Fill me up again and again!"

Her another wave of orgasm shoots into the headstone. Making a mess into it. Still continued until you shoots another wave of cum inside her ass. Filling her up in an animalistic way.

As the last tremors of her climax subsided, She collapsed backwards onto you, your seed leaking out from her ass. You slid out of her with a wet pop, thick ropes of cum trailing at her thighs and splattering onto the soil where the corpse is burried under.

"Look at the mess we made." You chuckled, taking in the sight of the combined fluids staining the grave. "Guess we shouldn't do this again."

She lifted her head, a lazy smile on her lips as she looked the grave.

"Oh, I have a reason why we're here." she purred, turning to face you. "I think you need to know my hidden past."

She looked at the headstone and points a finger at it. "This man.... is my mom's boyfriend."

"My Biological dad died in a fire incident at the factory. Many died that time, Some survivors said that my dad tries to save others rather than himself."

"Then year later, My mom got a boyfriend and made him live with us. I'm not against it actually. In fact, This man used to be a good and caring one. Until one day, they fought because he keeps wasting money on gambling and always drunk."

Her eyes went wet by the tears forming to it. Almost going to cry but she held it up. "Then one night, He came to my room drunk and forced to kiss me. His hands are rough and trying to pin me down on the bed."

"Thanfully, My mom came and pushed him away from me. Again, they fought until he choked my mom to death. I was a crying in the corner and seeing my mom died infront of me is just...." She closed her eyes shut and deeply sighed.

"Moments later, He tries his best to put my dead mom into the luggage. Wanted to get rid of the evidence of his crime. While he's at it, I went to the kitchen. At first, I thought of getting a knife but I realized that I wanted to see him die slowly. So I Injected a muriatic acid in the syringe."

"I went back to the room and injects it in his eye. He shouts in pain and asked me to call the ambulance but I just stared at him, watching him slowly dying until he died. I was twelve that time."

"The court says that my actions against him are self-defense. I was ordered to go to the orphanage without any kinds of punishment. Living there for years is awful. Rules here, Rules there. Feels like a prison than what an orphanage should be."

"Nobody wants to adopt a killer. I watched others getting picked by couples until the elders decided to kicked me out when I reached twenty. I was wandering everywhere, trying to survive until..."

She looks at you and smiled. "I met you in that club. I opened my heart to you because I think you're genuine." She wrapped her arms around your neck and kissed your cheek.

"I... I never knew you went through all of that, babe. I'm glad you trusted me." You gently kissed her forehead.

After a while, Winter looks at the grave. Seeing the mess of the sex around it, She chuckled. "I wanted to do this. Because that monster doesn't deserve any kind of respect even in his grave." She shoots a spit into the headstone.

"Babe... " Looks at you as her fingertips brushing at your cheek. "Stay with me. I'm afraid of being left alone again. Because if you leave, I'll swear that you will get burried beside that monster and I'll piss on your grave."

You let a nervous laugh. Too scary to think that will get the same fate as her abuser. You hugged her tight. "Of course I won't leave you. I accept you no matter what."

"Even tho I killed someone before?"

"Even tho you killed someone before."

"I'm not a perfect person."

"Neither do I, Winter. Having imperfections is much better than being 'perfect'."

Hearing that. Winter claims your lips in a tender kiss. "I love you..."

"I love you too."

-End-

[thekinslayed]

Come and Play

pairing | modern!aemond targaryen x gf!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral (m), dry humping (?), foot humping rly lol, gamer bf!aem, slight dom/sub dynamic, bratty reader

wordcount | 1.4k

note | WE'RE SOO BACK! big thank you to my love @silcoangel for this idea!! she said gray sweatpants gamer aemond and i got to work 🫡 not my best bc i'm a little very rusty but i'm soo happy to be putting this out for u guys. consider this my v day gift <3

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

“They’re right behind the corner, Aeg— Yeah, I see ‘em.”

Your eyes are starting to burn the longer you stare at the bright purple lights that tint the room. Though the dizzy haze of cigarette smoke in the air might have something to do with it too. You’re cold, exposed legs prickling from the near frigid air Aemond always prefers, but something within you burned red hot. Pulsing and creeping its way, both to your head and somewhere down south. 

You huff. Bored and forsaken by your boyfriend for whatever combat game he’s been into. Brows furrowing and orbs starting to burn holes into the back of his gaming chair. His throne, if you will, and his controller his mighty sword. He’s starting to yell into his bulky gamer’s headset, some colorful words thrown to his brother on the other end. Aemond’s always been intense, especially when it comes to winning. 

His navy sheets, usually so pristine, turn mussed and crumpled up the longer you toss around in his bed. They smell like him, and so did his shirt you put on. He smells like pine, of the greenest earth in the deep forest, though tinged by tobacco and musk. It was utterly heavenly. So addicting, and so Aemond. You can’t stop pressing your nose into the fabric every so often to find him.

You miss him right now.

Your patience is dwindling, and on a better day, maybe you would have waited it out for longer. But you want him now. You swing your legs to stand, padding barefoot over to stand behind his chair. Cold fingertips trail along the line of his shoulder, reminding him of what he’s forgotten. He pays you no mind, the furious clicking of his controller unceasing and his hypnotized trance unyielding. Yet you persist, hands caressing his bare chest, nudging your nose into the crook of his neck.

“Aem,” you sigh, breathing in the scent of his skin. Always smells so good. “You said only an hour.”

“Hold on— Aegon, are you fucking blind or stupid? He was right behind you!” He’s loud against your ear, and you can hear his brother equally booming through his headphones. You sigh again, annoyance ticking deep in your chest with being ignored. Yet you were anything if not persistent. You like having your treat as soon as the inkling of a craving starts to tickle your tongue. If the incessant grumbling and quick tapping are anything to go by, their game isn’t going well. Maybe Aemond will get tired by the end, and you’ll have him all to yourself again. You know you will.

You warm your hands down the heated flesh of his abdomen, growing bolder with each caress. Your nails trace the line down his abs, and when your fingertips finally dip into the waistband of his sweats, Aemond starts to break out of his video game-addled trance. 

“Stop,” he hisses, grabbing your hand in a tight grip. His larger palm pulls you away, before returning to his controller like a magnet. It should offend, really, but it only sharpens your aim.  

You peek at the monitor, some first-person shooter game that makes you dizzy with the twists and turns, but then you spot the timer in the corner. Only a minute left, perfect. You decide to play nice, simply settling your hands over the ridged plane of his stomach, hugging the smooth leather of his chair as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Slowly, your fingertips start to trace the bumps of his muscled abdomen, drawing some small circles. You follow the path of his happy trail, feeling the fine hairs under your touch as you descend lower, and lower. And then he sighs, exhaling deep. He’s stopped talking now, but the cinch in his brow tells you he isn’t very pleased— with the game, or with you; it hardly matters. 

Time runs out, and the screen flashes red as they lose the game. “Fuck,” Aemond grumbles, throwing the controller onto his desk and running a hand down his face in exasperation. You preen at his weariness.

“Aw, too bad, babe,” you pout, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly before stepping into his eyesight with a giddy look. “Come to bed?”

He considers you for a moment, eyes draping down your form. Nipples poking through his old college shirt, bare legs prickled in the chilly temperature, thighs subtly starting to rub against each other. Aemond meets your gaze, and for a moment, you can see your victory in his icy blues. Then they shift.

“Yeah, I can go for one more,” he says to Aegon, smirking as he leans back into his chair. You catch his abdomen clench, the shape of his cock outlined by the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants, taunting. Like dangling a treat in a dog’s face. The quick clicking on his controller resumes, and your boyfriend’s focus is sucked back into his game once more. 

“Are you fucking serious?” you glower.

“Let me win this last one, yeah?” he grins. His palm, warm against your skin, softly pushes your thigh. “Can’t see, love, go back to bed.” 

You grow hot, brows furrowing in disbelief. Aegon must be saying something about you, with the way Aemond snickers and his eyes flicker back to you with a lopsided smirk. 

All a game to him. And just like Aemond, you never like to lose. 

You kneel before him, fitting perfectly in the space beneath his desk. His eyes flicker to you in confusion, before speaking into his headset again. Your hands run up the length of his thighs, tracing his dick with your fingertip. It twitches under your touch, and you smirk. You’re quick to grab the waistband of Aemond’s sweats, pulling out his half-hard length before he can protest. You can feel him sparing glances.

You gather spit, dribbling it onto his cockhead, warm and hefty in your hold. It lubricates your hand as you begin to stroke him up and down. It doesn’t take long for him to harden, growing in size once you begin to take his tip into your mouth, and Aemond grunts. You peek at him through your lashes, watching his nostrils flare as he tries to keep a grasp on his composure. 

Your work is quick, head bobbing along the length of him and hand stroking what your mouth can’t take. The other cups his stones, massaging and softly squeezing. You start to hear his breath. “Shit,” you hear him grumble under his breath. Trim hips start to subtly cant towards your face, his defense slowly crumbling with your tongue swirling on his mushroomed tip. The clicking slows, and you think you can hear Aegon yelling at him in his ear.

Soon enough, a loud thud above your head startles you, then another. His expensive gear is tossed with little care before he grips your hair. Aemond begins to thrust into you in earnest, fucking your mouth like his own little toy. “Fucking slut,” he hissed. “Is this what you wanted? Couldn’t even wait ‘til I finish the fucking game.”

His movements are harsher, assaulting the back of your throat. Aemond grips your hair tight, moving your head back and forth to his liking. The throbbing in your core grows unbearable, your panties warm and damp in need. He shifts in his seat, foot perfectly moving just right by the pulsing in between your thighs. You press your clothed cunt into his shoe, steadying yourself by gripping onto his calf for support. 

You hump his foot, moving your hips in tandem with his thrusts. A dark chuckle leaves Aemond’s lips at the sight of you, looking down with a sneer. “I thought I fucked you enough, yet you still act like some pathetic, desperate whore,” he says, pressing his foot harder into your pussy. You whimper, gripping his leg tight as you grind your clit onto his foot. He gives you no reprieve, thrusts unrelenting until his hips start to falter. Soon enough, your boyfriend is pulling you off his cock and gripping your chin tight. He furiously strokes his cock, and his foot twists side to side to drive you into further stimulation. It manages to snag your clit just right, and you’re cumming, your mouth falling open as you soak your panties. Aemond follows soon after, gripping your cheeks to keep your mouth wide, and he’s spurting thick, hot seed onto your tongue with a curse falling from his lips. He watches you swallow all that he gives you, looking down from the tip of his nose. Spit smeared to your cheeks, eyes tear-stained and red. You’re perfect. 

“Did I win?” you whisper.

"No, I did," he counters.

"Made you cave in, didn't I?"

Your boyfriend smirks, before pulling you up by the elbow to sit on his lap. He sits you with your back to his chest, thick fingers sneaking past the hem of your panties and finding the mess between your thighs. 

“Why don’t we go best out of two?” 

[pearlymel]

warnings: ANGST NO COMFORT, (fem) reader has terminal illness, it's cute in the beginning, < dont let that fool you, death (reader), 3.2k words.

notes: hey yall.. It's been a month.. And im back with angst if u even care.. lol and no i did not kiss the brick before throwing it </3

Ever since you've been diagnosed with a terminal illness, specifically a heart disease, you were worried on how you would break the news to Caleb.

Your best friend. The person that is the most important to you, the one you never want to disappoint or upset.

It didn't feel normal, you didn't feel alive. You couldn't hang out or play with him normally like you usually would, and it's unfair to him.

You cried the whole night in Caleb's arms that night, and he only held you silently, tightly. Trying to soothe you with soft strokes along your hair.

It's been months since that night.

"Hey," he says quietly, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. "Don't give me that look.”

He can probably read you like a book by now. But rather than pity, there's only concern in his eyes.

He takes a seat on the grass next to your wheelchair while still holding your hand, his gaze still fixed on you. "Just tell me what's going on, pip-squeak. You know I can't read your mind, right?”

You squeeze his fingers as you look down at him, “could you…” you pause to clear your throat, “… Help me stand? I want to try and walk together.” you mumble.

And Caleb's eyes widen in excitement. He quickly stands up and moves around behind the wheelchair.

"Are you sure about this? I don't want you to push yourself, okay?" he says, gently taking hold of your wrists as he starts to help you out of the chair.

Your legs feel wobbly, but you manage with his help. You feel likd you can do anything at times when he's there.

"don't try anything crazy. I'm not above carrying you back kicking and screaming." He says it with a teasing smile, but his grip on your arms is firm, supporting you as you try to stand on your own.

“yeah, yeah.” you chuckle, your hands are firmly around his shoulders, and you lift your chin up.

“hi,”

Caleb grins at the unexpected 'hi', his cheeks warming a bit at your closeness.

"Well, hello there," he replies, his voice naturally playful. He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist, helping you stay steady on your feet.

His other hand finds its way gently through your hair, a comforting touch. "What's up, pipsqueak?”

“good.” you shrug. The breeze today feels unexpectedly nice, but the strands flying and sticking to the lip balm you applied this morning wasn't so fun..

Caleb’s grin widens at the sound of you attempting to shake your head amd blowing at the hair strands away, his arm still wrapped around you as he guides you towards the bench nearby.

"Alright, sit. Before you fall down and traumatize me," he teases, his tone light but his eyes serious. He gently helps you lower yourself next to him, making sure you're comfortable.

He then leans back, stretching his legs out and enjoying the sunlight, his gaze darting over to you every now and then.

"the weather is really nice." you hum, watching the people walk around, the elderly couple feeding the birds, and the children playing at the park.

It was at a distance, so you both were kind of alone in this corner.

Caleb nods, following your gaze at the people around them. "It is, isn't it?" he agrees, his arm still around your waist, holding you close. "It's been a while since we've been out like this, huh?"

He looks at the children tagging each other, and turns his gaze towards the couple feeding the birds. Something about this moment feels almost like the old days, before things got complicated.

His gaze turns back to you, "You really should get some fresh air more often. Being cooped up in that room all the time isn't good for you." He reaches over to tweak your nose, the way he used to when they were much younger, and you whine playfully at the gesture, "gotta keep the ol' pip-squeak lungs healthy, right?”

You huff, pushing his hand away, “i am healthy.” you reply defensively.

"Oh, really? And I suppose that weak little cough you've been trying to hide from me is just your way of practicing your opera skills, right?" he eyes you suspiciously, and you look away, pretending to whistle.

“I'll give you something to tease about.” you cross your arms, and he mimicks your moves.

“remember when we'd exchange secret kisses behind the tree?”

Caleb feels his brain go on short circuit.

"Wh-what—" he stutters, his cheeks warming at the memory. "That—that was back when we were kids. You can't bring that up, pipsqueak.”

You roll your eyes, “we were teens!”

His cheeks flush even more at your correction, and he rubs the back of his neck, "Yeah, yeah, we were. But still, it doesn't count. We were just kids messing around," he protests, his gaze darting away, unable to maintain eye contact.

He's clearly flustered, and it's hard to tell if he's more embarrassed that you brought it up, or remembering the feel of those secret kisses behind that old tree.

Teasing him back was just as fun, "We'd say it's just to practice for, oh, I don't know, future partners we'd be dating. How silly we were back then, huh?”

He remembers. Remembers the thrill of sneaking around, the rush of stolen kisses behind the tree, all under the guise of "practicing" for their future partners.

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head at their past naivety. "Yeah. We were pretty silly, weren't we?" he says, his voice soft. "Just a couple of dumb kids, playing at romance, pretending it didn't mean anything.”

He looks down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, trying to collect his thoughts. He's not used to talking about his feelings like this.

"caleb, i.." you want to reach a hand out to his face, but it pauses mid air.

"nevermind." you whisper, retreating your hand away, "you deserve better."

Hearing your words, Caleb's expression shifts. Confusion turns to frustration, almost anger. He grabs your retreating hand to prevent you from removing it.

"What do you mean, 'deserve better'?" he asks, his grip on your hand tightening marginally, as if afraid to let you go. "Don't say that. Don't decide what I deserve,”

You see the desperation in his eyes, how he looks almost upset that you even said such thing.

“look at me—”

"I am looking at you," he cuts you off, "And I see you." He scowls, "Do you think I care if you can barely move? Do you think that's **what matters to me?”

You inhale sharply, biting on your lower lip as you look away, defeated.

“can i be selfish with you one last time?”

You're asking for something, and it's like he knows what kind of request it was, with the way you glance at his lips.

As your faces draw closer, he can feel your breath against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. Softly, ever so softly, he leans in, his lips gently touching yours.

a hesitant brush against yours. For a moment, it's just a soft, chaste touch, like he's testing the waters, making sure he's not about to lose control.

But it doesn't stay chaste for long.

The kiss deepens, as Caleb's hand cups your face, his thumb tracing light circles on your cheek. He leans in further, the intensity of the kiss building.

He could feel the tightness in your grip, the desperate way you're holding onto him, and for a moment, a thousand different emotions flick through his mind. The guilt, the helplessness, the fear of losing you...

But also the love.

The overwhelming, all-consuming love he's felt but never voiced. He kisses you harder, his hand moving from your jaw to your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, as if trying to pull you even closer.

He breaks the kiss to give you a break, only for a brief moment, his breath coming out in short breaths. He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed, as he speaks in a low, hoarse voice.

"One more.”

—

You feel yourself being pushed on the wheelchair by Caleb through the hospital hallways, returning to your room, he glances over at you.

He can't help but notice the smile on your face, the way your eyes are still gleaming from your earlier encounter.

He feels his face warm a bit, but he covers it by clearing his throat. "You... seem happier than usual," he observes, trying to keep his voice casual.

You look up, “i am."

"Good," he murmurs, almost to himself. He pushes your wheelchair into the room, carefully setting it next to your bed.

You push yourself off and back onto the bed, “i had fun today.” you voice out your thoughts.

He pulls a chair to your bedside, sitting down, and runs a hand through his hair, still a bit flustered.

"Me too..." he admits, "It's been a while since we've spent time together like that." He smiles, but there's a hint of melancholy in his eyes.

“… thank you.”

"What are friends for, right?" he quips, shrugging his shoulders. Then, he adds, "Besides, I couldn't just let you sit around in this sterile, depressing hospital room all the time. You'd go crazy.”

Your eyes narrow as you turn your head slowly to his, “friends, even after our kisses.”

"Uh, well..." he stutters, again. trying to find the right words. "I mean... friends can kiss, right?" He's trying to sound cool, nonchalant.

You gasp, then your arms cross, “then i should just kiss all my male friends.”

"What—no!" he exclaims, evident panic in his voice. "That's not what I meant. I just—”

He stops himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He opens them again, his gaze locked onto yours, and his voice is quieter, more serious.

"That's not the same.”

You become silent, blinking twice at him, “fine, we're ‘friends’ i suppose.”

Caleb's face falls a bit at your words. "Friends..." he repeats, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wants to say more, to express all the things he's feeling, but he holds back.

Instead, he manages a weak smile, trying to keep the atmosphere light, "Right. Best friends.”

Caleb stands up from the chair, his expression conflicted. He wants to say more, to protest, to shout at you, to... say the truth.

“goodnight, caleb.” you wave your hand at him.

But he doesn't. He just nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer.

"Goodnight, pipsqueak," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

He turns and walks out, his hands clenched into tight fists.

“you can go back to sky haven.”

He stops in his tracks, your words hitting him like a cold wave. He turns back, his eyes locking onto yours, searching.

"You... you want me to go back to Sky Haven?" he asks, his voice a mix of confusion and hurt.

You avoid his eyes, “yeah, you've been here all week. Take a break.” you further reason out.

Caleb opens his mouth to protest, but shuts it again. He knows you're right—he's been spending all his time at the hospital, neglecting his duties at Sky Haven.

But the thought of leaving you here, alone... "You sure you'll be alright?" he asks, his voice low.

“… Of course.”

the way you're putting up a brave face. But he also knows you well enough to see through it. He clenches his jaw, fighting back the urge to argue, to stay.

"Alright," he says finally, his voice betraying a hint of reluctance. "I'll go back to Sky Haven. But... you better text me every morning, and night." He glances towards you again. "Got it, pipsqueak?”

You only smile back, “i love ya.”

Caleb freezes. He hears those three words, those three simple words that he's longed to hear from you for so long. But they feel like a bittersweet goodbye.

He looks at you, his heart constricting in his chest, and he wants to say so much, to tell you everything he's felt for so long. But he just nods, biting back the words that threaten to spill out.

"Yeah." He manages a weak smile. "love you, too.”

—

Days pass. Caleb is back in Sky Haven, working on his duties as a colonel in the Farspace Fleet. But every day, his thoughts keep drifting back to you. He finds himself distracted, his mind constantly wandering.

Sunday texts.

you: it's hot today.

caleb: make sure to tell the nurse to not set the air conditioning too cold

you: m’kay

Monday texts.

you: i miss your cooking

caleb: only that? You don't miss me? :(

you: i miss you, too >:)

caleb: :)

Tuesday texts.

caleb: knock knock, did you lose your way here?

you: was watching the birds

caleb: are they that interesting?

you: nope.

Wednesday texts.

caleb: hellooo pipsqueak

four hours later and three missed calls.

caleb: </3 ignoring my calls now?

you: i was asleep! :’)

caleb: morning, sleeping beauty ;)

Thursday texts.

None.

Caleb's eyebrows furrow as he stares at the empty screen, refreshing his messages over and over, and calling every hour.

You're just asleep, again.

He sighs at the thought, right—

His blood runs cold when his phone rings, seeing the caller ID from the hospital.

“hello?”

“Mr. Caleb, we regret to inform you that…”

Caleb's heart drops.

The next words doesn't even register in his head, he can't process it, can't wrap his mind around the news.

He takes a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, to understand what he just heard. But it doesn't make sense. It can't be...

He hangs up, and he runs. Without thinking, and feeling all numb, he needs to get to your hospital.

—

Caleb arrives at the hospital, his steps heavy as he walks through the familiar hallways. But everything seems different now. Darker, empty. The memories he once had are now tainted with grief.

He enters your room, his heart sinking more at the sight of the vacant bed, the machines turned off. He sees a bag on the table, your belongings. He moves forward, slowly, as if in a trance.

His gaze goes from the bag to the letter atop it. He stands there, torn between wanting to open it and wanting to pretend it doesn't exist.

After a moment's hesitation, he picks up the letter, his heart pounding in his chest. He carefully opens the envelope.

“dear, caleb.

I'm sorry you had to find out like this, i didn't want to worry you. My health was deteriorating these past few days, but i told them to not tell you, and im glad they respected my wishes.

I wanted to spend my last few days with you, and told you to go back on the last few days so you wouldn't witness the whole thing. Again, I'm sorry.

Please take care of yourself. I left a bunch of other letters in the bag for you.

Love, “

Caleb stares at the letter, reading and re-reading the words. His vision is blurry, his eyes filled with unshed tears. His heart feels heavy, as if someone had reached into his chest and snatched it away. He carefully folds the letter and puts it back in the envelope.

Caleb is going to read those letters you wrote for him, but he realizes you'll never get to read his own letters to you, it was too late.

—

The days following your passing are blurry in Caleb's memory. He moves through life like a shadow, going through the motions but not truly present. His work is done in autopilot, his interactions with others are forced.

But every night, when he returns to his empty apartment, he re-reads the letters. Like a cruel, comforting cycle, he reads them again and again.

The letters are all scattered on his bed. He would be curled on the bed, embracing each letter to try and make him sleep, but he can't. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you. And it almost feels like a nightmare.

These letters were a window into your thoughts, your feelings. And even though you were gone, he felt like he had a piece of you with him.

He would read until the early hours of the morning, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. But the pain was preferable to the emptiness that threatened to consume him.

It's been a week since your passing. He has avoided visiting your grave, unable to bring himself to face the reality of your absence.

Caleb is afraid of coming home to see scattered letters on his bed and not remembering who they belong to.

But today, something stirs within him. It's a mix of guilt, sadness, and a sense of resolution.

He needs to pay his respects, to fsce reality.

He makes his way to the graveyard, where your grave sits solemnly. The sight makes his chest tighten. But he takes a deep breath, bracing himself for what he knows he has to do.

Caleb stands in front of your grave, his hands shoved in his pockets as he stares down at the name on the grave. "H-hey, pipsqueak," he whispers, his voice extremely shaky.

There's a pause, and he can almost hear your voice responding to him in his mind, calling him by his name.

"I... I have something to show you," he murmurs. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a worn leather notebook. It was his own journal, filled with thoughts, sketches, and snippets of memories from over the years.

He sits on the grass, trying to be as close as possible.

"I've been thinking about you a lot," he continues, his eyes still fixed on the grave. "I remember all the times we were kids. Those moments... they were the best."

He opens the journal, flipping through the pages, each one a small snapshot of their shared past.

"And those letters you left..." he continues, his voice growing quieter. "I've read them again and again. It feels like you're right here, whispering in my ear.”

If you were there, he knows you'd say all the right things to ease his pain, to tell him that everything would be okay. But you're not, and the silence hangs heavy in the air.

Caleb's grip on the notebook tightens, his knuckles white with the effort. He takes a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall.

"God, I... wish you were here." his voice chokes up, and he swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"I...I have so many things I want to tell you, so many things I never said...”

You closes his eyes, covering his face while he slumps against the stone, that one wish you wrote in your letters replays over and over in his head.

to move on.

[yatori-morgana]

First Makeout

I'm fuckign posting fanfic for once

Contents and warnings: ur js making out tbh, I used literally no names and minimal dialogue

»Floyd Leech x gn!reader

His lips are softer than expected. Perhaps it's to balance out the sharpness of his teeth, the teeth lightly tugging on your lower lip. It's hard to remember how or why this started, and while he was slow at first, he's anything but now. His hands are somehow everywhere all at once, squeezing you close and mapping out new territories.

Much like his abnormally long tongue, for that matter. Long enough to make you gag if he wanted, yet it doesn't. There's an underlying care buried beneath the desperate pawing and sharp nips. Did he have candy earlier? You taste artificial grape.

His wandering hands never stay in one place; he's either indecisive or genuinely wants it all. It's hard to tell with him. Similarly, the noises he makes are ever-fluctuating. Some are breathy and quiet, and others are predatory growls. He whines when you bite back, but his breathing unsteadying and grip tightening bely his complaint. It's never enough for him. You're never close enough, constantly pulled by various positions of his hands.

He scrapes his teeth over your tongue when he pulls back slightly, only to push the back of your head and force you back in. He was definitely fighting an intrusive thought.

He's so open with his wants. It's not hard to tell he likes when you tug his hair or dot his lips with pinpricks of blood. He's going to be a very rough lover, not that it wasn't expected.

It's getting too heated.

"Nooo~!" Comes the whine when you break away. He looks like a kicked puppy, reaching for you again only to be gently pushed away. Another whine. Someone could round the corner any second. The point makes him begrudgingly relent, a pout on his face. His lips are spotted with pinpricks of red and kiss-swollen. It's a good look for him.

He seems to flirt with a mood swing, only to pick you up and swing you around. He lets out one of those familiar raucous laughs at your reaction. When you're safely sat back down on terra firma, your face is immediately peppered with more kisses. "I love you~!" He declared with all the confidence in the world.

Is this love? It's easy to question.

The answer somehow comes easier.

When the sentiment is returned, he suddenly becomes uncharacteristically sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck, averting his eyes and holding back an awkward smile. His cheeks are reddening, you notice. Was he always this easy to fluster?

You're squeezed against him all over again, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. He doesn't say or do anything for maybe a solid minute. Then there's a swaying. Left to right, left to right. It's slow and calming, hardly a movement at all. A tap to his shoulder has him leaning back and blinking in confusion. Oh, he's not falling asleep? It's a comfort thing?

Maybe it reminds him of the oceans waves.

You'll never know because you don't ask for clarification.

He mumbles something about wanting to cuddle more and doesn't seem too intent on staying in the same place. There's a pause, but as you search his face, you find yourself relaxing. There's no pressure, no other suggestion. Just wide, hopeful eyes. He's always been one to wear his true emotions on full display when it's safe to.

Safe.

The idea makes you smile.

"Okay."

@kimdourden

Tag list

[sheepispink]

no pressure but aaaa i really love the ghost & lower rank reader thing you wrote 🥺 will there be a part 2?

no pressure + take care of yourself mwah

it’s not a chapter by chapter thing but there will be multiple parts, anyway here’s the next one, bit shorter but there’s a longer one coming after this :)

also tagging @alexinmirrorland for support on the last one :D

and ty to @pythonmoth for the codenames teehee

i forgot to mention that the last one was intended for fem reader but if anyone wants gen neutral or male reader lmk i can make alternate ones 🤝🤝

part 1

——-

The grueling part of work is over, which leaves you and your teammates sitting in the corner of the mess, scoffing down whatever crappy food they’re serving today. There’s plenty of people about, but thankfully not so much that you have to shout just to hear each other.

“So, who are your roommates?” One girl, codename ‘Beetle’, asks after finishing her food, now she leans on the table expectantly. Two of the guys weren’t here when the fire happened, on a small training course and had returned to be immediately placed in a random superior’s room.

“Sergeant Sanderson.. He’s very quiet.” One guy—aka ‘Meatball’— says, chewing down on a bread roll as he holds his cup up in his other hand, ready to chug down the water next. Meanwhile, boy beside him, Vulture, rolls his eyes, believing he’s exaggerating. “It’s true! I don't even hear him leave or enter–I think that’s why they call him Roach.”

The rest of you giggle around the table at that, the codename nothing short of silly despite your own ones, especially when the two idiots are squabbling over whether it’s true or not. “Yeah well that’s nothing, mine opens the curtains at five am every morning–even on weekends. Plus he sprays his cologne everywhere.” Vulture argues, until Beetle turns to you, looking at you curiously. “Who's your roommate? I haven't even heard you complain once, not even in training.”

Everyone turns their attention to you, whose face is still stuffed with the chicken leg you were devouring. “Umm..” You swallow down the last bite, swallowing some water before you end up choking aswell. “It’s Lieutenant Riley. He’s okay.”

“A lieutenant?” Both boys look at you in shock, unbelieving that you’d been paired with a lieutenant of all people, all while she looks at you confused. “Who even is that though? I’ve never heard of him.”

“Oh, right— it’s skull mask. Ghost?”

The table falls silent, mostly because their jaws are dropped, in both horror and shock. “You’re joking, right? You wouldn’t be alive right now if you weren’t”

“I’m not joking” You scoff out, chowing down on the bread roll now and making all your words mumbles. “Why would I even lie about that?”

The three share glances with each other, suspicious ones at that. Of course every damn rookie knows the reputation of him, moreso the stories that have been told about him.

“Prove it.”

—------------------------------------------------------

“Just because he’s my roommate doesn’t mean I'm not just as scared of him as everyone else–this is evil!” You whisper shout as they pull you down the halls, two of them restraining your arms.

”Well we all know you’re lying, so just confess before we make you prove it.” Meatball huffs, tugging your sleeve along even as you squirm again, now trying to gain sympathy points from Beetle instead.

“You believe me right? I’m not lying!”

You almost stumble over your own feet when you come to a stop outside the gym, looking around in confusion before you spot the familiar mask on one of the men walking across the room. “Go on then. Prove it.”

“What? I’m supposed to just go up to him and say ‘hi roomie’?”

“No– obviously not– just ask him a stupid question or something!”

Before you can argue, she shoves you towards the gym doors and you stiffly enter, swallowing sharply as you watch the Lieutenant walk back to the machine he was using, near a sergeant you’re pretty sure is in his team. But it’s not just any sergeant–no– it’s John Mactavish himself, codenamed Soap. The youngest to join the SAS and hell, everyone you know talks nothing but praise about him. You turn back in a moment of desperation, but your friends have dispersed already, heading towards the supply closet so they can ‘retrieve training equipment’. Damn them. So now you stand in the middle of the gym, torn between actually walking up to them or just living you life being framed as a supposed liar or worse—an attention seeker.

Fate decides its course for you because a bunch of soldiers come for the post-lunch rush, causing you to step out of their way. Of course, you end up stumbling awkwardly over to where Ghost is benching a lot more weight than you could ever handle. “What’re you doing here?” The question catches you off guard and you immediately snap your head towards where he eyes you, not hesitating as he brings the bar lower to his collarbone and then pushes it up to sit on the holder. He sits upright again, still staring, but thankfully Soap has gone elsewhere—likely to refill his bottle or something.

“Uhh.. I have a question.” You glance to the right, wondering if you could somehow make a run for it, but you immediately make eye contact with the three idiots that set you up for this, their glares insistent.

“Don’t got all day, y’know” He huffs, lifting his mask a smidge to wipe his face with the towel.

“What’s your favourite Haribo?”

You really need to get better at what you blurt out because of all of the possible questions you could’ve asked him, even just asking where a piece of equipment was, you had bloody asked him what his favourite gummy was. His eyes narrow in your direction, and you’re convinced it might even be a glare considering that was a very reasonable response to wasting someone’s time.

Unfortunately, it was far worse than any of the possibilities you considered. “Eh? Terrorising the rookies without me?” You freeze, immediately recognising the Scot’s accent, and Ghost seems to read you easily, given that he crosses his arms over his chest, staring straight at you. “My roomate.” He hums, gesturing before turning his attention back onto you. “Go on, repeat it.”

“I- uh– I was just asking the Lieutenant what his um, favourite..Haribo was..” You force each word out, already expecting to be sent to the track for ten laps at this point. Soap smiles at you, lips curling into a sliver of a grin or rather a smirk but he reins it in, tapping his finger against his chin pensively. “Eggs are arguably the best. I’d fight ye on that.”

“Gummy bears.” Ghost plainly states, and you’re ready to give them a thumbs up and run out when Soap nods along in agreement, leaning in just slightly to you.

“This ones a real sadist. Eats the legs off first, then the hands.” For a second, you’re confused, or rather slightly unnerved by his statement though you're not too sure why. Maybe it’s because his elbow is gently nudging yours, or the fact that they look like they’re going to eat you alive. Either way, Ghost nods along to the words, not denying the claims in the slightest. “Bites the head of last. Real cinematic.”

You laugh a little, just for the sake of it, but Ghost stands again, grabbing his bottle in his hand. “I like my sweets the way I like my interrogations. Head off last.”

Now you just stare at the both of them, Soap’s hum of agreement and then the silence that follows. Surely it was a joke, right? You’ve heard rumours before, knew it was probably exaggerated, but now you were getting second doubts the longer they looked at you blankly. Soap’s face is dead straight, staring at you as you blink like an idiot.

“Right. Thanks for the answer.” You nod, a weak smile on your lips, though your face grows paler with each second they refuse to make any reaction apart from a small nod. As soon as Soap turns his head, you make a dash for it, your friends who eavesdropped looking equally as disturbed by the interaction. Soon you all leave the room, silence filling the space between all of you.

Back at the gym, Ghost snorts before patting the Scot on the back and settling himself on the bench again. “Good one mate. I’ll tell ya if she pisses the bed tonight.”

——————

Lmk if the codename thing is weird, not so much the actual names but like using codenames yk? I feel like its easier than calling extra#1 amy or sumthin LOL

oh and do lmk if you wanna not be tagged idm i just figured

[tofics]

You Owe Me - Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: Forced through circumstances out of your control to rely on Joel Miller, you end up traversing the country with him. You're not particularly enthralled with him, and neither is he with you - or so you think, until your period strikes, and you're practically bed-ridden. Or: Joel can't stop jerking off to you after he accidentally got a taste of your lips.

Warnings/tags: canon typical show/game violence, sort of dubious consent (reader gets kissed without being asked and only later agrees), age gap (reader is about ~25 years younger), enemies to lovers kind of, awful period + period cramps, jerking off, fluff, slap on the cheek (brat taming??), unprotected p in v

Word count: ~9k

Previously: How all of that had brought him here, kneeling behind you as the sweetest moans fell from your mouth once more - he didn't know. Joel couldn't tell whether you were a blessing or a curse, if you were the price he had to pay or the price he received. Seeing as how his life had gone though, it was unlikely that you were the latter. And yet he couldn't help but feel like he'd won when he brought his thumbs down on the sides of your lower spine and earned a low moan in return, long and elongated and putting all kinds of pictures into his mind that his head momentarily fell to his chest, a pained expression painted across it. No, no. You were both. A blessing and a curse.

"Joel?"

The mention of his name brought him back to reality. He blinked once, twice, before his eyes focused on you. You were looking at him over your shoulder through hooded lids, indents on your face like you'd just woken up from a heavenly nap. Lord have mercy. If he didn't know any better, he'd have said you looked all fucked out.

"What is it, darlin'?"

There it was again. Not your finger in his face, no, but your bottom lip slowly pushing out into a pout. Joel swallowed. You had to be doin' this on purpose, right? ...right?

"You stopped." You looked at him with your pout, all sad and sorrowful. It was such a pitiful picture that the corners of Joel's mouth quirked up.

"Sorry. Thumbs're hurtin', is all. Gimme a moment," he replied and shifted so you hopefully, hopefully couldn't see the strain in his pants.

You sighed and plopped your head back down on the sofa. Joel exhaled quietly in relief.

"S' still hurting like hell in the front," he heard you murmur into your arms.

"Hmm?" His thumbs were hurtin', he hadn't lied about that. While he waited for the ache to pass, he gently drew his fingers across the exposed skin of your back. He could do that much, at least. And he'd get to keep touching you.

"S' still cramping like hell," you repeated and looked back up at him over your shoulder. That goddamn pout.

Joel inhaled deeply. Keep yourself in check. His hand brushed over your lower back once more. "I know, darlin'. I'm sorry."

He'd had a lot of low points in his life, there was no doubt about that. But this, this had to be his lowest. Joel was bent over what had once been a bathroom counter, his forehead bunched up as he brought his fist down around his hardened cock, once, twice, again and again. Here he was, furiously jacking himself off behind closed doors, trying to hold in his moans and groans through gritted teeth and bitten lips while you finally slept in the living room.

It had taken a while until you'd been able to drift off to sleep. Joel had massaged your lower back a little longer, the hard-on in his pants pressing uncomfortably against the seams, but he hadn't dared to adjust himself for fear of you turning around and seeing what your moans had caused. He'd felt like a fuckin' teenager, getting a boner like that from just touching on you. It was ridiculous. And then, you'd asked him to pet your head.

Can I lay on your lap while you brush over my head? He was convinced then that you knew. You simply had to know. But there was nothing on your face that indicated any form of evil intent on your behalf. You just wanted his comfort - you were in pain, nothing more than that. Joel had scolded himself, then awkwardly gotten up with a pillow already held to his crotch as inconspicuously as possible. C'mon, he'd said and you'd laid your head on his lap, two layers of worn out fabric and a few measly clumped up feathers being the only thing that kept your face from his hard-on. He'd almost felt ashamed as you closed your eyes and he began stroking a hand over your forehead. Sick old pervert.

That's how he felt now, hunched over as he got himself off to the memories of your moans once more. He came onto the splintered wood with a muffled groan, his free hand balled into a fist. Sick old pervert, he told himself again as he wiped his hand on a ragged old towel behind the bathroom door and closed his pants back up. He'd make sure to tell you not to go into this bathroom when you woke again next morning. Dead infected, he'd say, and hope that you wouldn't check.

Your period wasn't any more forgiving on the second day than it had been the first. You spent most of it on the couch, dozing in and out of your misery while every single bone in your body ached. The only times you got up were to change your pads and to do your business in the backyard, making sure each time to tell Joel to not look. He was weirdly gentle with you, bringing you water every now and then and making sure you ate. He'd apparently found a well in one of the backyards just a few houses away, so at least you didn't have to worry about dehydrating while you bled and bled and bled.

You woke up again sometime in the late afternoon to the warmth and crackling sounds of a fire. Joel must've had started it in the fireplace while you had been asleep. You also found yourself draped in a blanket that hadn't been there before. A small smile appeared on your face at the gesture. Gruff and snappy as he was, he sure had his sweet moments, just like when he'd massaged you last night.

With a stifled yawn you stretched your (still) aching limbs, then paused mid-stretch as your eyes landed on something by the fireplace. What was that hanging from a string above the fire...?

"JOEL!"

Thump, thump, thump. He came thundering down the stairs and sprinted into the living room, rifle raised.

"What, what," he asked hoarsely, his eyes quickly scanning the room for whatever danger had made you call out to him. You glared at him from your position on the sofa.

"Did you - did you wash my pads?!"

He blinked, then lowered his rifle. A hint of pink colored the tip of his ears. "Uh... yeah. Figured you'd need 'em." He scratched his neck, shuffled his foot.

You kept staring at him. "You... washed. My pads."

You could feel the heat in your face as your own cheeks got colored a soft pink.

"Uh-huh." He nodded again. "Washed 'em out in cold water first, then boiled 'em..." Joel finally seemed to pick up on your embarrassment. "Ain't much different than washin' bloody clothes." He shrugged.

"Umh. Thank you." Pink was a long forgotten shade. Your face resembled more that of a tomato now.

"Don't mention it." Joel stood in the doorway a moment longer, then went back upstairs to do whatever he had been doing before you'd called him down.

Some things fade as time passes. For example, you didn't remember much about your mom. She'd passed away early on after the outbreak, and you had been so young, barely ten years old, that you had a hard time recalling her in your mind. There were a couple of times though when you'd hear her in your mind clear as day.

This was one of those moments, as you stood in the upstairs bathroom of the house you and Joel were staying in. The cracked mirror was foggy as you stepped up to it and ran a hand over the cold and wet glass. Your reflection was slightly warped, but you could make out the serene look on your face regardless.

Baths can make you feel like a new person. She'd always said that as she'd bathed you when you were sick, and you had to give it to her. She was right about that.

Joel had surprised you with a bath, of all things. He'd spend a day upstairs scrubbing down this tub so he could fill it with hot water, one bucket warmed up over the fire carried up after the other, the tub filling up painfully slowly. You'd walked up and down with him with each water delivery excitedly, watching how the water level slowly rose. Of course you had offered to carry some of the buckets yourself - it's for me, just let me do the work - but he had just shaken his head and grumbled at you. I got it.

It had felt so good, slipping into the warm water. You carefully used the strands of soap you had shaved off of the piece Joel had stashed in your backpack, taking your time as you slathered your body from head to toe. The warmth of the water relaxed your muscles. By the time you were done, you truly did feel like a new person.

You had spent the last three weeks in the same outfit, but now you slipped into the spare set that had been in your backpack. Complete with a fresh pair of panties and a fresh pad, you couldn't remember a time you'd felt so comfortable in the last three, now almost four weeks.

The drain gurgled as you let out your bath water. Soap, grime and blood all swirled around and then slowly disappeared down the creaky old pipes.

Joel sat downstairs by the fire as you came down. His gaze flickered up to you from his book as you stepped into the living room.

"How was it?"

You hesitated, unsure of how to express your gratitude. You pulled your sleeves over your hands, nestled around with the fabric in your fingers. "Like a whole new person," you said finally, a soft smile settling on your lips.

He could tell you meant it too. There was a sense of serenity about you that had been severely lacking the past two days - hell, the last couple of weeks. Joel hadn't known you all that long, but this was the first time you didn't seem tense.

"Mhh, I can tell. Might have to go through that whole hassle again, make me a new person too. Sure could do with a new pair of knees."

The bath didn't grant him a new set of knees, but he couldn't deny that he felt fresher than he had in weeks. He came down the stairs to tell you how you'd been right, running a hand through his damp locks to get 'em out of his forehead when he found you on the couch, a sour expression on your face as you stared up at the ceiling.

"Thought you said you felt all fresh," he commented as he sat down in the armchair again. He couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed at the sight of your frown. Hadn't he helped you feel good? You mumbled something under your breath, still staring at the ceiling.

"What's that now?"

You sat up with a sigh. "I said I did, right up until these fuck-ass cramps picked up again." Another one shot through your abdomen right then, like your uterus was giving you the finger for what you had said. You winced and closed your eyes, your nostrils flaring. Why, why had you been born a woman?!

"Back hurtin' you again?"

You nodded, unable to keep the pout from your lips. "The whole damn deal."

Joel knew. He knew he shouldn't. He'd done so well today, busying himself in completely taking apart his gun, cleaning it meticulously before setting it back together as you took your bath. The idea of you, laying in that tub in just your birthday suit - it had only appeared to him once, maybe twice. His hands had stayed out of his pants, he hadn't paid any new visits to the downstairs bathroom.

But now, you were in pain. He shouldn't offer. He'd done enough today, heaving bucket after bucket of scorching hot water up the steps to fill that tub for you. He'd done his share.

"Want me to have another go at it?"

God-damn-it, Miller. Pray she says no. What was he supposed to do? Let you suffer?

Damn right you should, he scolded himself.

"Would you? You've already done so much for me today. I couldn't impose on you like that -"

Damn right, you couldn't.

"Ain't no bother, sweetheart. C'mon. On your knees, like yesterday."

Diggin' yer own damn grave, that's what yer doin. And didn't he know it.

You were so compliant, so quick to get down on your knees in front of the couch. Joel had half a mind to put a stop to the images that were already flooding his mind at how swiftly you slid from the couch to the ground.

Sick old pervert. Gettin' off on commandin' a young little thing to get on 'er knees.

His joints ached as he dropped down on one, both knees behind you, once again glad for the fact that your head was already buried in the sofa cushions. He was sure the eagerness was written across his face, just short of some drool leaking down his chin.

Should be ashamed of yerself.

He would be, later. When he'd undoubtedly be curled over the bathroom counter once more, spray painting its remnants with his cum. He'd been so good today-

"Joel." You whined in front of him, lightly wiggled your hips as if to say get a move on. Joel found himself questioning once again if perhaps you did know what you were doing to him. "Alright, alright. Gettin' to it, kiddo. No need to whine."

Just like the day before, you melted under his touch. Your tense body became pliant, coming loose under his strong thumbs digging into your back. Up your spine, up up up, from down around your tailbone all the way up to your ribcage. In his fingers dug, kneading through your skin and muscles like you were dough.

He'd pushed up your shirt a little higher this time, just an inch or two. You hadn't commented on it. Save for his name, you hadn't said anything since you'd gotten back down on your knees. With the first slump of your shoulders came your first moan, sweet and short, like you probably had moaned when you'd dipped your toes into the hot water first. Joel pressed his thumbs up your spine carefully, running his calloused tips deep into your tissue.

Up and down, up and down. His fingers worked tirelessly into your aching back. Joel's brows were furrowed in concentration as he searched out the kinks in your muscles, finding the delicate spots that made you jump and keen. Whether you knew it or not, the words that were now tumbling from your lips were like cocaine to him. Oh my god Joel, right there, fuck- and shit, yes, that's the spot- and right there, right there, oh good fucking god.

It took about three of your moans and one mumbled praise for his work until you'd hitched the tent in his pants again. Joel's cock twitched in his boxers as he dug into your back, begging to be set free. The tips of his ears were burning, set alight each time you commented on another knot he found in your back.

Sick old pervert.

He couldn't help it. Touching you was like drinking nectar.

"Fuck, Joel, right there. Oh god, yes. Don't stop, please."

You'd be the death of him.

"Tell me where it hurts, babygirl."

Your hands came around your back, shakily trying to locate the spots that bothered you. Joel backed up an inch so you wouldn't accidentally brush over his hard-on.

"S' in here-" Your hand flew over your lower spine, close to your tailbone, where Joel had already spent a good portion of his energy. "An' here-" You fingered over where your bra sat, then hunched up your shoulders. "-n' here, drawing all up into my neck." Your fingers trailed up your neck and got lost in your hair at the base of your neck.

"Mh." Joel tutted at you. "Got my work cut out for me, hu, darlin'?"

He saw your head beginning to turn towards him, likely to interject how he didn't have to, but he laid his hands on your shoulder blades instead, swiftly pushing you back down into the cushions. "Ah, ah. Ain't said I wasn't gonna do it. Relax, darlin'. I got you."

He could feel the grumble vibrate in your chest as he slid his fingers down your spine. "Mh. Lotta' spots givin' you trouble, mh?"

She said as much. Ya need te hear it again, sick old pervert?

"See if we can rectify that for ya, eh? Let Joel take care of ya."

He knew he was treading on thin ice, practically heard it cracking under his feet. His words bordered on dirty talk, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Might wanna lose this, darlin'. Gonna be a relief for sure, n' I can't go rubbin' over it." Joel lightly tapped on the clasp of your bra over your shirt. He already knew he was going to hell anyway. And he really couldn't go on rubbing over your bra. Wouldn't have been comfortable, for you or him.

He'd expected you to object, had half expected a lecture (that he rightfully deserved), but none of that came. Instead, he watched you do that little wiggly move he'd seen women do before where they reach under their shirt and take their bra off without anything ever showing. It had always been one of his favorites to see. One second a woman would be wearing a bra, the next it got tossed across the room, not a single piece of clothing ever having gone amiss in the meantime. As far as Joel was concerned, it was a little magic trick.

And you pulled it off without a hitch. He tried not to look in too much detail as you put the garment next to you on the sofa. He had other things to focus on.

Wallpaper, wallpaper, hole in the wall, wallpaper, rusty nail, crooked crown molding. He could've fixed that easy, back in the day. Didn't need much more than the tools in his belt to do it. Would've made a fine job of it too.

Door frame. Tarnished, cracked. Long forgotten. He could take care of it, bring it back to life, with just a few touches here and there. Just a bit of straightening up the ridge, nothing too fancy. He could certainly do it, expert that he was, doing work with his hands. He'd bring the wood back in shape, love the wood like it was meant to be, gently work on it until it'd comply with his hands and mold to his touch, soft and warm-

No, no, strong and hard, like wood was supposed to be. Fuck, this was going nowhere.

Joel was doing all in his might to distract himself from how you were falling apart under his touch. Your moans didn't let up, praises flowing freely from your mouth as he slowly worked his way up your entire back, pushing more and more of your shirt out of the way until all of your back was exposed to him.

He was glued to the carpet where he knelt, afraid to even move an inch. If he looked hard enough, he could imagine the soft rounds higher on your torso, where shoulder blades gave way to what he was sure was a delightful pair of boobs-

No, nope, he wasn't gonna move. Couldn't risk it, not even an inch. If just the thought of your breasts sent his head careening, what would a mild case of side-boobs do to him? He couldn't risk it.

Pity what you consider 'standards', pervy old man.

He did what he could. And he was making you feel so good. You kept telling him so. That had to count for something, didn't it?

You wish.

Where was he, then?

Door frame. Right. Perhaps he'd have to replace parts of it. That'd be okay, too. He'd have to find wood to match the leftover structure - sand the original down, couple of times likely, then apply the stain. He could make sure the new and old pieces matched up that way-

"Fuck, Joel. Yes. Right there."

His head slumped down in defeat.

"Babygirl, please. Go easy on me. I can't do this no more." Joel's beard touched on his chest as he shook his head. "I can't - I'm tryin', I am -"

He heard you shift, felt the loss of your warm skin under his hands as you turned around in front of him. He couldn't look, just kept his eyes shut, not out of respect but-

Open yer damn eyes, you coward. See how she looks at you. Face your shame.

Joel forced his eyes open.

He wasn't met with shame, or even disgust. You had a worried look to you, like you couldn't quite figure out what had happened.

"Are you okay? I'm - I'm sorry, I knew I shouldn't have let you go on for so long, your hands must be hurting-" You felt awful. Joel looked like he was in actual pain. In all your bliss, you had let him work on your back for way longer than you had promised yourself, and he had overexerted himself.

"I'm so sorry, Joel," you started again, but then his hand flew up in the air, silencing you almost immediately. You looked at him, trying to read his face. He was red all over from how exhausted he was.

Let an old man work for you like that, you should be ashamed. What are you, a princess?

"Joel-"

"Darlin', I ain't hurtin'. Is' - s' just - goddammit." You watched him run a tired hand over his face. Was it just you, or were the tips of his ears a slightly darker shade of red than the rest of his face?

Joel sighed. You looked at him with worried eyes. What had you done?

"Sweetheart, ain't about you workin' me to the bone. I don't mind that one bit. Trust me," he insisted as you opened your mouth to object. "S' about how you... how you respond to my touch."

You furrowed your brows. "Uh...huh?"

"Your moans, darlin'. They're just about killin' me."

...oh.

You felt shame spreading at the back of your throat, an uncomfortable heat that burned as you swallowed. Of course. How thoughtless of you.

"I'm - I'm real sorry, Joel, I didn't-" Joel shifted in front of you, visibly uncomfortable, and your eyes fell into his lap, widening at what you saw.

Oh.

The shame rushed from your throat to your belly, grilling your insides without mercy. Your eyes flicked around the room, unsure of where to look. "I'm - uhh, sorry...?"

You heard Joel huff. "Will you quit apologizin'? S' fine. I'm the one that ought to be apologizin'. Ya didn't mean te-"

"You? You've been nothing but good to me all day! You did nothing wrong!"

Another huff of amusement. "I got a tent in my pants here that says otherwise."

Your eyes found his, decidedly staying on his face. "Yeah well, but that's... natural. Not like you're doing that on purpose."

"That bit, no. But I'd be lyin' if I said touchin' on you, workin' your back - that ain't just entirely for your benefit."

He figured if he went with the truth, he might as well come clean about it all. Half-truths had never really been Joel's thing.

He watched you work through his words, could practically see the gears in your head turnin'. He wouldn't have blamed you if you had told him off, hell, he was waiting for your finger to come flying into his face any minute now.

"Alright."

He blinked, once, twice. Hu?

"Alright?"

You nodded, slowly at first, then more decidedly. "Alright. Yeah."

Joel's eye was twitching. "Uh... catch me up, darlin'. I got no idea what you mean."

"I mean, alright. Yeah. You can... do me. If you want to."

He watched the words come out of your mouth, heard them coming in through his ears, a faint ringing sound following them. Surely, he had to have heard wrong.

"Come again?"

A slow smile spread across your face. Joel watched it stretch out, like a cat waking up after a nap. The ringing sound in his ears wouldn't die down.

"I said, you can do me. Fuck me. Make love to me, whatever you wanna call it. You have my consent."

Well, now you've done it. You've broken the man.

Joel kept looking at you, a blank expression on his face. The silence between the two of you began to stretch so long that you were seriously beginning to worry.

"...Joel?" You snapped your fingers twice in front of his eyes. "Miller? You home?"

His eyes zeroed back in on you and you let out a sigh of relief. Not a stroke, then. Good. The tips of Joel's ears were burning a bright red. You had to bite down on your lips to keep from smiling.

"You... good?"

He nodded slowly. "Y-yeah. Sorry, sweetheart. Thought I heard you say I could do you there for a second. Fried my brain for a moment."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that. The mighty Joel Miller, feared by all, reduced to an abashed puddle by just a few of your words. Now wasn't that something to see.

"Probably cause I did. Do you need me to write you an invitation? Put my consent on paper? You surprise me, Miller. Didn't seem much to care for it when you pulled me in for that kiss on the stree-"

"Uh-uh." Joel suddenly growled and leaned forward. "None of that again. I paid my dues. Got you out. I drew you a damn bath, girly. What more do you want?"

His finger was right in your face, daring you to object to him. You bit down on your lips once more, trying not to grin at the reversed roles.

"I want you to help me with my cramps. Not on my back. In the front. Please?"

Look at that, you old fucker. Got her on her knees in front of you, begging you to take her. Ain't you a lucky old bastard.

And didn't he know it. Joel's tongue darted into his cheek as he looked you over, taking in your puppy eyes and slight grin that was surely meant to taunt him, but only spurned on the hitched tent in his pants. If you had been a sight to see while he drooled over you in secret, you were almost out of this world when you wanted him to touch on you. Like that.

He shifted around on his knees, a hand on his crotch to find a more comfortable position for his hardened cock that was straining to spring free. "Darlin' -" His voice was strained. "Not that I don't want to, but it wouldn't be right, me being that much older than you-"

Oh, so now you got standards, you pervy old man? Who are you trying to fool?

"Joel, do I need to beg?"

Yes darlin', please, on your knees, impatient and whining like when you were waiting for my hands on your back-

"Cause I will."

Lord have mercy.

Joel scrambled to bring you onto his lap in one swift motion, his old arms and knees suddenly very willing to be cooperating with him.

"No, sweetheart. Don't gotta beg," he said as he cupped your face with his hands, running a gentle finger over your cheek. "Joel's got you. I'll help you with your cramps. No begging needed."

He looked at you a moment longer, determined to take all of it in. The way you were looking at him expectantly, the way your teeth bit down in your bottom lip hinting at the fact that you were perhaps a bit nervous. There was a glint in your eyes too, the kind he had seen when he had pleaded for you to work with him. You looked wicked, bewitching. You could've told him to lick the floor in that moment, and he would've done it, no questions asked.

Joel Miller was a goner for you.

No news there, you old fuck. Now get to it, before she changes her mind.

Joel took one last look at you before he gently tilted his head and put your lips on his. It was a gentle kiss, soft and probing, just testing the waters. He was dipping his toes in, seeing how you reacted to him.

Your lips met his hesitantly, just a blank, unmoving canvas at first, but then you came to life. He felt your lips beginning to move against his own, tentatively and careful, just like he had been. Joel's right hand slipped from your cheek to the back of your head to hold you tighter, his left thumb drawing soothing circles on your other cheek for comfort. I got you, darlin'. Let yourself fall, he was trying to say, and you seemed to understand, sighing and relaxing into him with your body.

Spurned on by your reaction, Joel nipped at your bottom lip, asking you to let him in. He didn't have to ask twice. Your lips promptly opened at his silent request, letting Joel's tongue in to taste the sweetness of your mouth.

My god, you tasted like heaven. Joel was certain he'd never tasted anything so scrumptious in his life before and he couldn't hold back the groan that had built in his throat. His hands flew down to your hips, securing you against him tightly, as he rocked forward to push himself up. "Hold on to me, sweetheart."

You were quick to listen, legs swiftly gripping around his waist as he pushed himself up to heave you and himself on the couch. Joel grunted with the effort and from impatience. He couldn't wait to feel your legs wrapped around him like that without a barrier of fabric between them.

You were gently laid down in your preferred place for sulking, though you couldn't currently remember which, if any problems you had had in the past few days to complain about. Any and all period-related issues seemed to have flown right out of your mind the moment Joel had put his lips on yours, and your brain was too busy tracking the movement of his hands on your body to do anything else, even if it was just about 'remembering'.

He had laid you down on the sofa and had positioned himself over you with one knee between your legs, while he steadied himself with one foot on the ground. The couch wasn't the most accommodating space; just a smidge too narrow for a truly comfortable fit of two people, but you didn't have it on your mind to complain, and neither did Joel. Not that you would've had any time to complain either. Joel was too busy by keeping your mouth occupied with his own while his hands traveled up and down your body as if he was trying to map out all your curves and dips. He must've had more than just two hands, the way he was feeling you up, his hands seemingly everywhere on you at once, brushing over your shoulder, trailing up the side of your neck, holding you at your waist to steady you, then gently cupping your breast before giving it a careful squeeze. There wasn't any part of you that remained untouched and all you could do was try to remember how to breathe in between moans.

"Joel," you panted when he'd abandoned your lips in favor of your neck, trailing down kisses towards your collarbone where he nipped at the skin and then promptly brought his lips down on the harsh mark, soothing what little pain he caused you. There was a growing need between your legs, your arousal mixing with your wetness from your period. You felt a tug in your abdomen, decidedly different from the cramps you had been experiencing for the past days. While also slightly painful, this one was born out of want. You wanted Joel inside of you - no, needed him inside of you.

So you're an old-people fucker now? Yeah?

Apparently, you were, if Joel Miller could be described as "old". He certainly felt anything but as his hands glided under your shirt and found one of your breasts, his thumb and index finger trailing up the soft skin until they found your nipple to take between them, rolling it gently between his finger tips. You moaned into Joel's mouth at the sensation, bucked your hips up into him. Needy, needy, needy. You needed him.

Old-people fucker. Yep.

"I got you, darlin'. I got you," he reassured you when you ground your hips against him. "Just gotta sample everything on the menu first, before we get to the dessert. I got you, sweetheart. Relax."

You groaned at his murmured words. You couldn't relax, it was the furthest thing from your mind when there was a pool of heat between your legs that you needed to be cooled down.

"Ah, now." Joel tutted in your ear as you writhed beneath him. "Patience, darlin'. You trust me, don't you?"

You pushed your bottom lip out in response. Of course you trusted him. But that didn't mean you couldn't ask him to hurry the fuck up?

Joel only tutted in response to your remark.

"I set the pace. You hear me, sweet cheeks?" Joel's beard prickled against your skin as he pressed soft and gentle kisses just below your chin. "'Nough with the impatience. I got you. I'll take care of you."

Joel felt like a kid on Christmas morning, the way he got to undress you piece by piece. It was like tearing off wrapping paper, except he didn't tear through your clothes (not for a lack of want - he'd have scoured the down for new clothes for you if he didn't know that was just a tad overboard) but carefully slipped them off of you, piece by piece, step by step. With each garment of fabric that got discarded on the floor, he got to unearth more and more of you. More of your soft skin that he had been lucky enough to get a taste of from behind as early as the previous day.

He got stuck on your boobs for a good long while, drawn in by the sight as soon as he pushed your shirt up over them. It was just too good of a sight to pass up, and he had to get a taste to commit your breasts to his memory for good. He sampled one boob first, kissing up from below it and working his way towards your areola, taking his time with your nip as he whirled his tongue around it, even gently pulled on it with his teeth.

Joel couldn't decide what he liked better, the way you felt and tasted under his tongue or how your body responded to him, writhing and rocking up towards him to meet his mouth, the most delicious moans and whimpers falling from your lips as he mapped out your torso with his tongue. It was a hard decision, and he kept falling back and forth between it.

He knew he was pushing your patience by sound of your moans changing. They got breathier and whinier as he went on, sampling your other breast in the same slow and painstakingly precise way he had the other, and he could hear how worked up you were getting, your whines rising in pitch with every stroke of his tongue.

"Joel, please."

He chuckled, drew himself up to meet your pleading look at eye-level. "Gettin' there, sweetheart. I promise." Joel watched your bottom lip push out once more into that delightful pout of yours. He dipped down to suck on it, pulling your lip in between his and nibbling softly on it before capturing you in another sloppy kiss.

If it hadn't been for the stark reminder in his pants, he would've worked you over until you were nothing but a whimpering mess underneath him, begging for him with tears in your eyes, but alas, he was nearing the end of what he could take as well.

There was only so much he could do to your upper body before he inevitably got pulled downwards to where you wanted him most, needed him most.

You all but scrambled to help him get out of your pants as he tucked the fabric down your hips, your bottom springing up into the air when he tapped a cheek and nudged his head upwards. "Up, babygirl." A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he pulled your pants down your legs, carefully slipping them off your feet. "Needy little thing, aren't ya. Mhh, me too, darlin'. Can't wait either." He lightly grabbed your calf and helped your leg up on his shoulder, peppering kisses up your shin towards your knee.

You fumbled with his hair when he continued his trail up your thigh, stopping him when he was more than halfway towards his target. Joel looked up at you from between your legs, his hand running up and down your leg that was holstered on his shoulder. "Somethin' wrong, babygirl?"

You mumbled something unintelligibly, your eyes refusing to meet his. You were too quiet for him to hear all of it, but he could make out a few words here and there. Period and all he heard and don't wanna make a mess and the smell.

Joel kissed your knee again, not nearing your core. "Don't gotta worry about that, hun. Ain't nothing I'd care about. But I'm not gonna do somethin' you don't want. Alright?" He looked at you, made sure you saw the sincerity in his eyes. You fumbled around with your fingers, visibly uncomfortable. Joel kissed your thigh once more.

"Ain't gonna do anythin' you don't like," he repeated and brought himself up again so he was hovering over your torso once more, lavishing kisses on any piece of skin he could find on his way, save for where your panties kept you hidden from him. He made sure to move around it with enough distance that you knew he took you seriously, honored your boundaries. He still had standards.

Low fuckin' standards. More like bare fuckin' minimum.

If anyone had told you you'd be under Joel fucking Miller three weeks ago, you'd have laughed at them and asked them if they'd had one too many helpings of moonshine. Yet here you were, stark naked from top to bottom, laid out for him to see like an exhibition piece under no one else than Joel fucking Miller, about to fuck you.

You had been exceedingly grateful when he had heeded your wishes about not coming close to your core with his mouth, and it could have been your imagination, but he had seemed even more gentle with you when he slowly coaxed your panties off of you, praising you and leaving kisses all over as he went. You'd never been called so many pet names in one day, let alone within the two minutes it took him to get you out of your underwear. Doin' so good, darlin' and you're so beautiful, sweetheart and never felt a thing so soft, tasted anything so sweet had been among the many, many things he'd purred at you.

Now he was lining himself up at your entrance, kneeling on the sofa with one leg while he steadied himself with the other on the ground as he softly padded the tip of his cock against your soaking folds. You still didn't feel too keen about being out in the open like that, blood just leaking out of you unstopped, but Joel seemed to have an answer for that too.

"Gonna draw you another bath afterwards, mh, pretty girl? Get you all cleaned up nice?" He dipped just the bare tip of his slightly leaking head between your lower lips, gently dragging it up and down, coating himself in what you were sure was a bloody mess. While picturing what was leaking out of you made you tense up slightly, Joel seemed blissed out at the sighed of it. You could see the glint in his eyes, the hunger that was written all over his face as he dragged his cock up and down through your slick, coating himself and more of you in it.

"Ain't that the prettiest cunt I ever did see," he mumbled, his eyes transfixed on your entrance. You felt the heat in the back of your throat once more, both from the compliment and embarrassment you felt. It was a strange sensation, to feel so flattered and put on the spot at the same time.

Joel didn't give you much more time to think about it though. You flinched when you suddenly felt his warm tip tapping against your clit, gentle but forceful enough to send tiny sparks flying through you. "There she is," he said and you saw the smile draw across his face. "Saw you getting all lost in your own pretty head, darlin'. Can't have you zoning out now, we're just getting to the good part." He lightly tapped against your clit once more, a sly grin taking over when he saw how you inhaled sharply at the sensation.

"With me now, sweet cheeks? Ready for me to come inside?"

Joel fucking Miller, a man full of surprises, as you had come to learn. Looks like he could learn after all.

"Yeah," you breathed out and shook your head eagerly. "Yes, please."

You saw his eyes darken as you renewed your consent. A growl sounded from his chest and he quickly dipped down once more, surprising you with another fierce kiss. "Attagirl."

You felt him align himself with your entrance once more, the tip of his length pressing against your aching entrance. "Eyes on me, baby," he murmured and your eyes quickly flew to meet his, not wanting to do anything that could stop him from what he was about to do. A kiss was placed on the edge of your lips. "Wanna see your beautiful eyes when I do this."

You gasped as you felt Joel slowly pushing into you. It was a good stretch, on the brink of too much, but he took it slow, pushing in inch by inch while he peppered your chin with more kisses in between murmured praises. "Look at you, taking me so well. Doin' so good, sweetheart. S' a bit of a stretch, hm? Yeah? Pretty thing like you, all tight for big ole' me?" More kisses rained down on your face, Joel's beard tickling over your cheeks as he kissed down your nose, teeth nipping at your lips. "God, you feel so good," he breathed out and you watched in awe as his eyes fluttered close. He was filling you out more and more and you wondered how much more there could possibly be of him as he kept gently pushing into you.

Joel stilled as he bottomed you out, the tip of his cock pressing into you all the way. You could feel it deep inside of you, a gentle push on a spot you alone could never reach, not even dream of reaching. Your breath was shallow, trying to get acclimated to his width.

You felt Joel's beard brush against your face as his head dipped down. "God, darlin'. Takin' me so good. Let me come in all the way, didn't ya? Such a good girl." Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt him retract slightly, the gentle pressure on your inside slowly retreating as Joel slowly pulled himself out of you. Not all the way, no, just enough to make you worry he could, but then his teeth were softly nipping at your chin and you were being stretched out again as he carefully drove himself back inside of you.

You made something of a gurgling sound as your eyelids fluttered close as your eyes rolled backwards. It was the most excruciatingly slow pace he could've taken, and though you knew - guessed - he was doing it on purpose for you, not to tease you, you couldn't help but yearn for more, and faster.

Your hands flew up to Joel's back to pull him closer to you. Would you not have had Joel's dick painfully slowly driving into you at this moment, perhaps your movements would have been more coordinated. But alas, your hands fumbled all over the place, pulling and grabbing at him in an attempt to get him down to your face so you could kiss him, to hopefully spurn him on to get a move on. You groaned into Joel's mouth when your lips connected at the same time as he met your insides with the tip of his cock once more.

"Fuck, Joel."

He grinned like a stupid school boy as he heard you curse. Hadn't he dreamt of this just a night ago, hunched over the broken bathroom sink? Even if he had imagined it, he never could've imagined this, the real deal. Filling you out with every inch of him was so much better than he ever could've dreamt up himself. Where your moans had been like cocaine to him, your pussy was just straight up heroine. One push inside of you and he knew he was a goner, lost to your pussy forever. He would never feel anything like it anywhere else, that much, he knew.

"Yeah, baby? That feel good?" He kissed your ear as he pulled himself back out, then drove back into you. It was an agonizingly slow pace, but he wanted to savor every moment of it, drag it out for as long as he could. Who knew if you would allow him such a delicacy ever again? He had to make the moment last.

You nodded below him, your cheek rubbing against his scruff as you did. "S'so good, Joel," you murmured against his ear. "But faster, please. Please go faster."

Now how could he say no to such a kind request?

Joel felt his knee object as he adjusted his position on the sofa, preparing himself to fuck into you faster.

Not now.

He didn't have time for aching joints and other ailments. Not when he had you below him, asking him to go faster. Now who was he if he denied a pretty girl like you a favor like that?

A sensible man instead of a pervy old fuck, perhaps?

No. He'd have been a heartless old fuck, that's who.

He grounded himself into the floor with his foot once more and then got to work. Never mind his fifty-six year old hips. Never mind his aching, complaining knee. He had a job to do, and he was gonna do it.

Joel fucked into you like his life depended on it. He gradually increased his pace until the old sofa was creaking and shrieking underneath the two of you, but those weren't the sounds he was listening for. His hearing was attuned to you instead, carefully dissecting each moan and groan that fell from your lips. What did you like more? What made you groan, what made your fingers dig into his back?

Joel acutely listened to the cues of your body, your verbal ones taking the lead while the rest did their own speaking. He didn't care that your nails pierced the skin on his back, or that you drove your teeth into his forearm, likely leaving a bite mark that would last him a day. It'd be a kind reminder of the gift you were giving him, and had he not been pounding into you at this very moment, he likely would have fantasized about giving the old bathroom another run while staring at the bite on his arm, perhaps running his tongue over the indents in his skin that you were so kindly imprinting at the moment.

"That's right, babygirl, take what you need," he encouraged you and did his best to give you what you needed too. He had heard about it, how cervical stimulation could help with period cramps, and he could only hope he was alleviating your pain in the same way you made him forget about all his aching joints. Joel wasn't fifty-six as he drove himself into you again and again, he was twenty-five at best, fucking his heart into your pussy like she owned it.

"Joel - Joel -," you whined underneath him and he laid a gentle hand on your face, turning your chin with his thumb so you'd look at him. "Whaddaya need, babygirl? Hm?" He never stopped his pace, never slowed down so you could think better. Joel watched your brows furrow as you tried to form a coherent sentence.

"I'm - Joel, think I'm gonna -"

"You gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Yeah?" Even though his instinct was to lower himself on you so he could kiss on you again, he knew better than to change his pace or angle now. If he was lucky enough to be able to gift you with an orgasm, he wouldn't pass that chance up, even if it meant to starve himself of your lips.

Your face was scrunching up like you were thinking real hard. Moans were no longer falling in a steady stream from your lips, but Joel didn't worry. He'd been with enough women to know the signs, knew that you were getting close. Even though he missed your moans, excitement tightened his chest as he drove himself into you again and again, hoping to push you over the finish line. It'd be the best damn thing he'd ever done.

He felt you clenching around his dick, your walls cramping down around him more and more as your breath hitched in your chest coherently. One, two, three more pushes, and Joel saw the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. You fell apart underneath him, moan after moan flowing from your heavenly lips right into his ear, jumbling into one another as your orgasm rocked through you. Joel bit down on his tongue hard, the sight and sound of your climax enough to make him come right there and then, but he was determined to fuck you through it. He owed you that much.

"That's right, babygirl, let go," Joel cooed as you convulsed underneath him, wave after wave of pleasure slowly rolling through you. He fucked you through it like he promised himself he would, then slowed in unison with your ebbing ecstasy, despite his dick yelling at him to keep going.

Not now. He had other things to focus on.

Joel leaned down to kiss your blissed out face. First your forehead, then each closed eye, down your nose, over your right cheek, left cheek, the corner of your mouth. You kissed him back lazily when he finally landed on your lips, a satisfied hum vibrating in your throat.

"You good, darlin'?" Joel searched your face as you slowly blinked up at him. He ran a thumb over your cheek, drawing small circles on your soft skin.

He didn't care that he hadn't finished. He could do that later, in the bathroom when you were asleep. Of course, nothing would feel as good as your walls wrapped around his cock - but that would be fine, too. He'd have all of this to remember, to draw from for the rest of his life, if need be.

You nodded slowly, a sheepish smile on your face now that you had come down from your high. "Yeah. Think I made a mess of you though."

Joel looked down at his pelvis. He was covered in your blood and slick, tinting his pubic hair a deep shade of red. "Don't you worry about that, sweet cheeks. Nothing some water can't clean up. Want me to run you another bath?"

Periods aren't fun, that much was true.

But you couldn't help but think that perhaps, they weren't the worst thing in the world, now that you laid in a bathtub full of warm water, while Joel Miller slowly massaged your upper body.

Having your period in the apocalypse could prove as a challenge, but it helped to have help. Help like Joel Miller, who washed your pads and massaged your back and fucked you deeply to help with your cramps if you asked him.

Yeah, perhaps periods aren't the worst thing in the world, you thought as you tipped your head up and pulled Joel in for a kiss. You could certainly survive another period or two this way.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Credits: plant divider by @strangergraphics

A/N: Yep, part two out not even a full two days later because I could not stop thinking about this fic. This is only the second time ever I've written smut (not counting part 1 of this mini-series?) and I would highly appreciate some feedback! (Don't hold back on the criticism too if you got any, I can take it!) This fic was definitely very much influenced by @strang3lov3's 'Seeing Red' story which I highly, highly recommend, and the fact that I was on my own period. Also, if anyone's wondering, I couldn't stop thinking about these goddamn gifs so I had to bring the cheek biting into this. 🥵 Now, none of this is proof-read so I apologize for any typos etc. Hope you had fun reading this! Please leave a comment if you did 🫶💓

(No pressure) Taglist:

@missladym1981 @guelyury @roboticsupersonic @auteurdelabre @ashleyfilm

@mandojojo @picketniffler @vickie5446 @frogsdeservelovetoo @elli3williams

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @justajoelsreader @oldmenenthusiast

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [wlw][mdni][friends to more?][pining][exhibitionism?][self gaslighting][Tamaran customs][yoga][reader is downbad][kissing (⁠灬^‿^灬⁠)][praise][nipple sucking][scissoring][fingering]

"Kory..."

You groan, eyes squeezed shut and you're exhausted, letting out huffs of exhaustion as you continue to be follow Kory onto the rooftop of the Titans building. The sunlight streams in hot, golden strands, beating down on you.

"It's like, 6AM. Everyone else is sleeping."

Like all sweethearts, Kory felt that with the messiness of being a superhero, she's been disconnected from you. And what other way to bond with your closest friend, than waking them up at the asscrack of dawn to do something new every second morning?

"Kory, I'm hungry." You whine.

Kory ignores you, continuing to roll out her yoga mat and she inhales sharply. The morning air is crisp and she settles down on her mat, legs folded and she glances towards you, expectantly.

And you whine, but comply.

Mimicking her motions, and you settle down on your own mat, fingers laced in your lap and you let out a deep breath, back slumped like a capital C and expression scrunched because it's like the Sun just gets brighter.

And Kory giggles. "Open your eyes."

"We're literally facing the Sun. It burns and I could go blind." You deadpan, blinking rapidly because fuck, your eyes are so dry right now.

"Better to go blind, than to not see the world."

Her voice is something that's so sweet. So saccharine that it takes you a hot minute to realise that she's saying some bullshit and you turn to face Kory, instead.

"Who taught you that?"

"I came up with it." She beams, dimples deepening in her tanned cheeks and you hum.

"I can tell."

You allow yourself to bake in the warm, golden sunlight bathing the both of you as you face the ball of gas and you peek at Kory from the corner of your eye.

Her lashes are resting on those stupidly high cheekbones, full, mauve toned lips curled into a soft and almost appreciative smile and her hair flows down her back like a river of magma. Voluminous, so flattering and you swallow hard.

She looks like some kind of deity.

"You look like a sexy orange."

You watch the way her lips purse, dimples deepening in her cheeks as she tries not to laugh before her eyes flutter open, and she looks at you, head cocked.

"Can you take anything seriously?" She hums, lips quirked in amusement and you shake your head.

"Definitely not, no." You blow out a breath. "And if you take it seriously, it's an even harder no."

⊹♡🔥♡⊹

Yoga's definitely not for you, but watching Kory do it, is a salve to your wounded ego.

Because never once have you ever been insecure about being inflexible.

"Kory, my knees."

"It's only been 12 seconds." Her belly flexes as she giggles, her arms raised over her head and they're straight as an arrow.

Her chest heaves with each deep and even breath she takes, her little cropped shirt mocking you as it flutters in the warm, summery breeze that makes you wish you took off your hoodie but you know damn well, you're not even wearing a sports bra under it.

You're facing her.

Her gaze doesn't waver.

How are her eyes so magnetic, when she doesn't even have a fucking pupil? Just... A green orb in a socket but you feel like they're pulling you in.

"You're staring." Kory comments, her voice quiet alongside the chirps of the birds, and you let out a breath. Heavy, shaky and so, so unfit.

"Really?" You puff out. "I couldn't tell on account that I'm looking at you."

And she sighs, almost dramatically and she lowers her arms for a moment, signalling that it's a switch of position. "Do you have to be so negative?" She questions, and immediately, hits Warrior I again, but this time, with the other leg.

You mimic her stance.

"Kory, I'm sweating at 6AM." You grumble.

"This is the first position." She reminds and your expression nearly crumbles. Your arms hurt, your back hurts, your ankles are aching and your eye's twitching.

"Oh God." You pant. "I think I'm dying."

And she laughs. It's soft. It's melodious. She laughs like if a Disney princess was from an alien planet and had ass for days.

"Well, at least you'd die looking very... Dewy." She reassures. Before her eyes look you over. "Are you regretting not changing into something suitable?"

And you swallow. "No." You lie. You're sweating balls. "I'm very comfortable."

"Just take off your hoodie, I'm not judging."

"I'm not wearing anything underneath."

And Kory blinks. Slow and careful. And there's not a thought behind those eyes.

"They're just breasts? Look, I'll even—"

"No." You interrupt. "There are cameras here and no free shows."

Her lips purse and her brows furrow in that cute little frown she does when she doesn't understand something, "Humans are so odd."

You don't look up when you're in child's pose.

It just doesn't feel right and the coolness of your yoga mat feels so good against your forehead. Your body's aching from the stretches, your brain's just a bit fuzzy because how does her sweat smell like cinnamon?

Your shoulders are so relaxed, your arms stretched out ahead of you, your knees tucked to your chest and you let out an even breath.

"This is nic—"

"And into downward dog."

You listen to the way Kory rustles, her body moving and your gaze flicks up.

"Kory!" You nearly scream. "I can see your whole pussy."

Her legs are straight, feet and palms flat against that violet yoga mat, and you can see all the muscles in the backs of her legs flex with the strain.

But you can really focus on, is the outline of her cunt through those yoga shorts, pulling taut against puffy folds and you try not to stare too hard when she peeks at you from between her legs.

"Are you enjoying the 'free show'?" She teases you, lips curled and her hair falling forward in a gorgeous gradient of pinks, reds and oranges, the golden sunlight barely able to filter through the strands.

"No." You breathe out, your cheeks are burning and your ears feel hot. "It feels like you just flashed me."

"You're welcome." She gleams. "Now, get in position."

"Can you turn—"

"There is no time."

No matter what, your gaze keeps flickering up. If you stare hard enough, you can see the subtle pulse of her cunt with each exhale she lets out, and you swallow hard. Lowering your head and trying to calm your racing heart because is this what a crackhead feels like when they see a dealer that's out of their budget?

"You need to keep your head up to open up your chakras." She gently chides you.

"Kory, I can see your chakra."

And she snorts. "Just do it." And she pauses. "And it's my nirvana."

"I'd say it's your Narnia." You murmur under your breath, before following her instructions, and you tip your head back, letting out an even shakier breath.

And your gaze flickers towards her chest, and your breath stutters. Her shirts riding up, and you're catching a whole view of underboob, topped off with pretty nipples, pebbled. And you swallow.

This is totally normal. It should be normal. It doesn't feel normal but it's probably normal.

But you know:

It's not normal.

It's not normal that your heart's pounding like a meth head's. It's not normal that you're fighting demons to not blow a thin stream of air in the direction of Kory's stupidly close pussy, just to see if she'll feel it.

And it's definitely not normal to hope she does.

⊹♡🔥♡⊹

"And now, we go into a straight arm side plank and lift your other leg. And then, I'll hold your foot and you'll hold mine."

You stare at Kory in pure silence.

"What kind of ecstasy do you do, to think I can do that?"

And she smiles, inhaling sweetly and she stretches her arms overhead, forcing your gaze to lower to her tightly toned tummy and the soft swells of her breasts that peek out from the frayed edge of her croptop.

"The ecstasy of life."

You frown.

"You keep saying shit like that and I'll push you off this roof."

"You silly thing," she coos, her lips curl before she reminds you, "I can fly."

The positioning is awkward, especially since Kory didn't tell you that she'd switch your legs. And you'd look like the literal scissors emoji together.

You keep your hand on her ankle, grasping her foot for dear life and you feel how gently her manicured fingers wrap around yours. And you'd feel guilty for your dragon claw grip but her core strength is better than yours.

"Kory, my tummy h—" Your gaze flickers down to where her shorts is practically translucent, white fabric stupidly clear and you can see every pretty, silky fold and you lose your balance. Tumbling and you land hard on your ass.

"Oh!" Her voice is so sweet as she moves towards you.

"Are you okay?" Her thigh's tucked beneath one of yours, and her other thigh, is tossed over your remaining leg in a way that's so leisurely.

But your breath stutters.

"Kory, Kory, we cannot— You're too close." Her hand moves to cradle the side of your face, dark tumeric coloured brows furrow in confusion and she moves closer. "What do you— oh..."

She glances down to where there's mere inches between your crotches, her lips parting before she bites down on her bottom lip, gaze flickering to your face.

"On Tamaran... This is how friends bond."

"Girl, you come from a porn planet, don't you?" You huff out, pushing yourself up on your elbows and you watch the way her lips curl, and her dimples deepen.

"Maybe." And she leans closer, hands braced on the yoga mat and you can feel the way her breaths ghost over your face.

And fuck, her eyes are so pretty.

"But I've never practiced my customs with anyone here on Earth, aside from learning the languages." And she tilts her head, lashes fluttering so sweetly and you have no idea how she gives you doe eyes with no fucking pupils but she does. "Would you embrace my customs with me?"

Oh my God, are you being gaslit?

"Uh huh." You nearly stutter, big doe eyes focused on Kory and the way her smile widens, pointed canines peeling just a bit. Before she croons, her palm warm against your cheek.

"Good girl."

And you're down bad.

⊹♡🔥♡⊹

The first time your tongue slides against hers, your brain shuts off entirely. Your thighs parted to accommodate her waist, your ankles locked behind her back and her lips pressed so sweetly against yours.

Kory's fingers remain laced with yours, hips pressing against yours like she's trying to get friction some way or another and she smiles into the kiss.

It's so subtle. Her tongue brushing against yours, gossamers of saliva stringing between you and your brain's so fucking fuzzy because all you taste is toothpaste and mouth between you.

And she pulls back, her lips glossy and kiss swollen, as she peers down at you, her lashes fluttering and she hums.

"Does it feel good?" She's soft, fingers tracing along your palms as she keeps them pinned on either side of your head, expression so sweet and adoring.

"Huh?" Your voice cracks. And she snickers. "Wow. For the first time, you're taking something serious."

She dips her head and all you smell is fucking citrus and sweetness. Her lips press against your pulse and you feel the way she lingers just to feel the erratic pump, before she moves. Down, down, down.

Until she's at the dip of your clavicles, exposed by your oversized hoodie and her hands slide down, grasping at your waist and giving you the sweetest squeeze.

"I won't take this off." She whispers. "Because it'd be a free show." And she moves her hands towards the edge of her own shirt, grasping the flimsy fabric and pulling it overhead.

"But I'll take this off." She discards the fabric. "Because I don't care about free shows."

And your face is burning. You're staring up at Kory like she invented AO3 because God, you might be falling in love.

Vibrant sunlight surrounds her like a halo, her hair's a flaming crown and her skin looks like molten gold.

And those eyes. A shade of green that would make you weep if you saw it anywhere else and your voice cracks in a mumbled 'wow' when she guides your hands to her chest, and the weight has your mind stumbling like that old vine of that guy leaving his trailer.

And you giggle.

"So pretty." You whisper softly, your thumbs brushing over her nipples and the way she sighs has your cunt throbbing in your shorts. Her hand feels warm as it rests on the back of your neck, and she stares down at you, perched on your lap with rosy cheeks.

And you dip your head, licking a long wet stripe from the crevice between her tits, all the way up to the hollow beneath her ear. And Kory shudders, eyes fluttering shut as she feels the way you suck marks into her skin, dotting her flesh all the way until you get to the swell of her tits.

And your mouth's so warm, her nails digging into your neck as your tongue swirls around a pebbled bud, your other hand gently tugging at her unattended nipple.

"Oh..." Her lips form the prettiest 'o' shape. "Just like that..."

Kory moans and it sounds like a fucking symphony, and suddenly, it's all you wanna hear. Morning, noon and night.

You're sucking attentively, lavishing her chest in kisses and nips, sucking hickeys into the skin until she's panting, belly dipping inward and hips twitching needily.

"That's my girl..." She croons so prettily, looking down at you with hazy eyes and parted lips. "Feels so good..."

And sooner than you'd guess, your shorts and panties are discarded, and so are hers. One of your thighs are braced against Kory's shoulders, her knees digging into the mat on either side of you.

And she's focused.

Gently sliding her clit against yours until she's feeling her thighs quiver and buckle.

"You're so wet." She whispers softly. "So pretty." She's bringing a hand down to part your plump lips, staring down at your glossy folds like they're something to be worshipped and she glides again.

And again.

And again.

Her lips pressing the softest kiss against your ankle, her brows twitching into a furrow and she feels the way your hips buck, eager to meet each grind of hers.

And she sighs.

"You're so soft." She whispers. "So delicate, so lovely."

Kory's brain is a mushy haze. Friendship's never felt so... Good.

The burn in her belly feels damn near instant when it's taken lovers nearly hours to even light the flame, she can't get enough of the way you watch her from beneath fluttering lashes. Your pussy sticky against hers, your hands grasping at the curves of her waist with desperation like you want her closer.

Your hands slide up her sides, cradling her chest and you moan at how her hips twitch, cunt pulsing against yours and it feels so nasty when Kory lifts her hips, and you watch the way the sunlight catches the sticky strands of slick that connects you.

And you barely make an audible sound when you feel two of her fingers sink into you. Your head lands against the mat beneath you, your eyes fluttering shut and you know.

You bring one of your hands down, between her thighs and your fingers drag through her slippery folds, shaky digits fumbling for her clit and the way she gasps has you clenching around her fingers.

You do those circles with your fingers, the sticky bud threatening to escape your fingers with each shlick but your persistence makes Kory's tummy flutter.

Kory leans down, her lips pressing against yours as she bucks her hips in time to the pumping of her fingers, her tongue curling against yours.

This doesn't feel like friendship.

It doesn't feel like friendship when she's clamping down on your fingers, when she's spitting into your mouth and licking it back up again. Her forehead against yours as she comes on your fingers, your other hand tangled in her hair and you whine when you feel the way her palm grinds down against your clit, hard.

And you're seeing stars behind your eyelids, your ears filled with her panted breaths and praises.

You feel warm.

So... So... Warm.

And you're floating, whimpering when she pulls her fingers out of you and listening to her longful sigh when you do the same.

There's a quiet silence that blankets the moment that's otherwise filled with birdsong and the sounds of early morning traffic from the city. And Kory hums softly, her breasts pressed against your chest as she presses her cheek against yours.

She brings up a hand, flexing and scissoring her fingers to see how the sunlight illuminates your slick.

And she giggles.

"Friendship is magical."

⊹♡🔥taglist🔥♡⊹

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[alleyangelss]

Sun & Moon

(Sophia x Reader)

Pairings: Bratty Duelist! Sophia x Fem Gryffindor Keeper! y/n(but not really a gryffindor...?)

Tags: Enemies to lovers, Brat & Brat tamer

Part of Series: Part 1 | Part 2 here

Sypnosis: Daniella...well, not just Dani ask you to substitute her in that week's quidditch matches. And gradually, one match turns into two, and then ten. And it's no problem at all. You're Ravenclaw's prized genius. Everything comes naturally. Now if only you could find a way to tame the problem that it seems both you and the Gryffindor quidditch team share.

Sophia Laforetza. She sabotages their quidditch maturnstches and always suceeds. Somehow. And you need to know. Not just because you're a sore loser, because you're a scholar at heart. And definitely not because you and her made a bet. Not at all.

Summary of chapter: You strike a deal with the teacher that seems a little too obsessed with quidditch scores. Good for you...or is it? (Are you sure that's the only deal going around..?)

So. You swear it was one time. Only one time. One match, just one match. Just one time to try out Daniella's broom, just a few hours free to fly around the pitch without judgement. Reliving your childhood without glances of judgement at why the Ravenclaw ace was currently 'partying' and 'fooling around' when they should be studying to keep up their spot. Ah, Ravenclaw. Your house, your beloved house. Wildly over-competitive and always prioritising grades and studies over all else. Cliques and groups formed on grade levels, specialities.

Probably why your house's quidditch team hadn't won in about fifty years, but alright. Not as if you were all losing about your biggest area of house points income possible. You often think that if they stuck out their snotty, haughty heads out of the mud for even just a little bit, they could see the potential. But of course not.

Which is why, of course. That you're here. The only reason you're here. You're frustrated, you're stressed. This is your release from your horribly swotty house.

"You know that you've been doing that trick for more than an hour at this point, right?" Dani speaks, and you manage to find her from the corner of your eye. From where you are, hovering over the quidditch rings, she looks like an ant. Yet you can still hear her. You grin to yourself. Your supersonic hearing and speaking charm worked. Of course, you weren't in Ravenclaw for nothing.

Her voice snaps out of your trance, however. You sneak a glance at the watch on your wrist, yet another gift from the girl below, and start lowering yourself into the ground.

"I think I've almost got it, Dani! Just a few more hours, please! I'm begging you-I'll literally do your charms home work for the next week, no month!" You give her your best puppy eyes while still floating a distance from the ground, as if keeping her broom hostage.

"You said that two hours ago, " she scoffs dramatically. "And charms is not even a big deal for you, you've always been acing that class. At least, you used to." She adds on the last bit hastily, as if mentioning it to trigger you. And she's right, it does. So why did your undisputed lead in charms get interrupted?

By a Slytherin student called Sophia Laforentza.

"Ugh, why'd you have to say that? She probably bribed the teachers or something. You know how Slytherins all are-"

You feel like a hypocrite. You are no better.

"And yet, she's still in the top two of all the classes you both share. I'm sure you've noticed that," Dani smirks. "It doesn't hurt to lose one of your little pawns once in a while, maybe it'll teach you some humility."

You groan and put your head in your hands, your feet now planted firmly in the ground and starting to stumble towards Dani.

"You think I haven't? I'm just...I don't know, I'm frustrated. I haven't-"

Dani's smug smirk turns into something else. Something...

"You've never lost before like this, huh?"

She's hit the nail in the coffin, but you don't want to admit that.

"It's only temporary. I'm sure the teachers just miscalculated the points or something. Besides, Ravenclaw still leads by more than three hundred. Three hundred!"

Dani sighs again, her eyes flickering softly, glancing at you, and then the broom, and then at someone in the distance. You see a flash of panic in her eyes before she turns your way.

"It's McGonagall, run-!"

The look of shock her name alone instinctually makes you and Dani race to the edges of the pitch, running straight into the changing rooms. You run and run, your faces both turning a slight shade of red that spreads softly over your cheeks and you can feel the adrenaline pump through your veins. Despite the panic, there's a wide, wide grin spreading on your face. It seems that the thrill, the risk of getting caught just does it for you. Apparently it doesn't for your dear friend, however. Dani pants and kneels till she palms touch her knees while she catches her breath.

"What the-I told you we should've-we should've left earlier. We could've gotten caught, and I do NOT want to do detention with McGonagall again."

You giggle remembering the time Dani got caught by McGonagall, your transfiguration professor, in the owlery after bedtime trying to get a gift mailed to someone that was home sick. You never did get the details of the punishment, though.

Meow~

"Did you hear that?" Dani's voice travels to you, but you're already up and moving to the side of the rooms, where a little gray cat lays.

"Ohh, you're so cute! I didn't know Hogwarts had a cat! Dani, you've got to-"

But you never get to finish your sentence.

"I assure you, Miss Y/N, Hogwarts does not have resident stray cats."

Before you stands Professor McGonagall. Of course. Your shitty luck was bound to catch up to you eventually. She seems confused though, as if waiting for you to ask her what just happened, but you're definitely not going to give her the satisfaction.

"Animagus? A cat, I presume." You give a slight smirk, and it deepens when she seems taken aback.

"Why, Miss Y/N, I guess at least this assures me you pay attention in my classes. Though you've been slipping recently, mm? Losing your place to..."

Damnit. Of course McGonagall would-

"But no matter. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately for you, I'm not here to give you detention today." She gives you a small smile, but it's a genuine one.

And yet you can't help be scared. There are those people in the world, of course. Those people where a grim look on their face is far, far more comforting and assuring than any kind of smile. And you're pretty sure Professor McGonagall is one of them.

You can see the lights in her eyes come alive, and for a while, she seems like one of those portraits that you and Dani always argue with-those that come alive when the lights hit them just right.

"I must've misheard you Professor, not detention? Are you perhaps in need of medical assistance?"

You want to slap yourself the moment it comes out of your mouth. Seriously? You got lucky, and then absolutely butchered it. Weirdly, as if things couldn't get weird enough, she still smiles. In fact, her grin gets wider.

Alright, this is getting a bit unusual for you. You start to back away slowly, thinking this is some kind of illusion spell casted by Dani to get revenge on you for, well, god knows at this point, but-

"I've been watching you and Miss Daniella on the pitch since the start of the evening. Your skills...are excellent, to say. I've never seen anyone be able to attempt such since, well, Harry Potter himself."

You wait for her to get to the point, getting more confused by the second.

She starts her next sentence with a deep sigh, before continuing.

"I'm sure you know the state of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teams by now. Ravenclaw...well, no one's expecting them to come out on top, needless to say. I assume that you yourself know the nature of your house and it's residents. As for my house, however..."

"Gryffindor has not won a single match this year, and honestly, I myself struggle to understand. It's as if...nevertheless, I came to speak with you on an important matter."

You want to ask her what she was planning to say before stopping, but you catch your tongue before you do something stupid again. As if anything you did tonight wasn't already the definition of it, but you digress.

"Fifty house points."

What?

"Miss Y/N, I propose again, fifty house points for every match you win for Gryffindor house."

What...?

"Recently, a few of our star players have left due to falling morale, the losses. You have the talent, and pure skill. Disguise as a Gryffindor player, and play for our house. All the players on the team will know, and besides me and you, no one else. You are free to give and use the house points as you wish."

"You can't be serious, Professor-isn't this...?"

She gives a small smile at you, and you can't lie. You are far, far away from feeling guilty or apprehensive about taking this deal. You're smiling too, and your palms are sweating, not from nervousness, but from...

Excitement.

"My, I didn't expect one of the school's biggest trouble-makers to question my care and interest in Gryffindor standings."

But she's joking. She's smiling.

You don't even need to think for an answer. It's everything you've wanted, now justified. Flying on a broom again. And your main goal too, beating...

God, even the thought of saying her name just strikes something in you.

"Deal."

And yet, before McGonagall leaves, she glances towards the spot that you know Dani is hiding it.

"Miss Daniella, you will be receiving detention Friday evening. I expect you to be punctual."

You muffle your giggles, and you catch her glancing back at you. You try your best to straighten your face.

But she smiles and just walks away, before transfiguring into a cat a few steps later.

notes:

The next few parts, well, the whole series will be quite long in general. This is just a short introduction to the plot, the starting of it all.

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Insecurities (Arthur Morgan x gn!reader)

A certain outlaw, who's head over heels for you, catches you being insecure about your looks and decides to step in.

Word count: 1.5k

Tags: no use of pronouns, high honor Arthur, fluff

Arthur knows that you're not the most confident person out there, has heard you talk ill about yourself more times than he'd like to imagine. Sometimes, on your particularly bad days, he goes out of his way to sit with you or hand you a trinket he knows you will enjoy. The outlaw would never admit it, but during the rare moments where he can just relax around camp, his eyes are glued to your form.

It's just the way you carry yourself and the ring of your laughing voice that makes him feel all sorts of things. So his gaze lingers on you, watching you like a hawk, while he's hoping that you won't notice, because he'd seem more than just creepy. Now is such a time, where he's sitting by his tent and staring at you like some pathetic, lovestruck fool. Oh and how pathetic he is. You don't even know the half of it.

Whenever he comes riding in, you are the first person he looks for and whenever someone tells a joke around the campfire, he turns to you to see if you're laughing. Arthur isn't a man who's particularly good with words, but dear God does he especially stumble over them when he's trying to talk to you. Some sentences don't even make any sense and then he's wishing for the ground to open up beneath his feet to swallow him.

You're on the whole other side of camp at the moment and enjoying your coffee break. Normally you look so much at peace when there's no one to bother you and you get to simply be. Though there is a frown on your face now. It's nothing too obvious, but Arthur has stared at you for long enough that he's able to tell your mood just based on the position of your eyebrows.

Right now they're slightly pulled together and creating a small crease in the spot between them. The corners of your mouth are also pointing down a bit and the outlaw mimics your expression. His heart aches at your sight and he wonders who or what could have caused it. If it was someone from the gang then he will have a stern word with them, that's for sure.

Before he can dwell on it any longer, he notices how you pick up a small object that is laying next to you. A handheld mirror. That's when realization washes over him and he sees the way you study your own reflection. Unsatisfied, downright disappointed in fact. No, he absolutely can't have that. Not knowing what possesses him, he stands up from his cot and makes his way over to you.

Each step is sure and confident at first, but the closer he gets, the more uncertain he becomes. Something about you turns him from a ruthless and cold outlaw to a young teenage boy experiencing his first crush. One look from you is enough to have heat shoot up his face and make him sweat even under the thinnest of clothes and in the coldest of temperatures.

There's no turning back now though, because you've spotted him and oh, the way your face lights up is enough to make him clutch his chest. With clammy hands and a fuzzy brain he makes himself comfortable by your side and sits there in silence while he contemplates what to say. There are so many things he would love to tell you, but he always decides against it, choosing to let you live in peace.

You don't deserve a bad man like him, you deserve someone who's decent and honest. Someone who doesn't have blood staining their calloused hands and sins laying heavy on their shoulders. Arthur lowers his head, the rim of his black and worn hat covering most of his face. He has no reason to show you the extend of your effect on him.

Then he clears his throat to speak and prays that his voice won't betray him.

"You doin' okay?", he asks, the words leaving him as a whisper.

The smile you grace him with could melt the toughest of men and he feels his throat dry up from it.

"I'm fine, Mr. Morgan. Thanks.", you answer, but he can hear it in your tone that it's a lie.

"How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Arthur? I'm old, but I ain't that old.", he responds with a low chuckle and you return it with a laugh of your own.

That sound is music to his ears and he could break out into loud cheering and applause right here and now. He managed to make you laugh after all.

"I know, I know.", you mumble with an amused shake of your head. "It's just so funny to see you like this."

If it would be John or Sean making fun of him like this, he would easily threaten to punch their teeth out. Not you. You could call him names and tease him all day and he'd relish every single second of it, if it means that he gets to bask in your attention.

"But I'm serious.", he says, getting back to his previous question and he finally lifts his head to look at your face. "You wanna talk 'bout it?"

For the longest time you don't utter a single word and he fears that he might have crossed a line, that you're going to pull away from him. Nothing in your expression indicates what's going on in your head and the seconds begin to feel like whole minutes. During that entire time he keeps his eyes locked on your face, re-memorizing every single feature.

From the curve of your eyebrows to the bridge of your nose, he's drinking it all up like a parched man lost in the dessert. And when his eyes fall on your lips he has to dig his nails into his palms to keep his focus. How often has he fantasized about tracing them with his fingers? How often has he dreamed of kissing them until they're red and swollen and afterwards waking up with your taste on his mouth?

"Ah, I'm just being stupid.", you speak up and rip him out of his thoughts. He has to bite back a relieved sigh.

"Don't talk 'bout yourself like that." The words shoot out of him faster than a bullet and he clears his throat to mask his eagerness to defend you.

"But it's true.", you weakly protest and he catches you looking back down at the handheld mirror.

Not knowing what's gotten into him, he reaches out to place his rough hand over yours and your gaze snaps in his direction.

"Don't concern yourself with your looks."

"See? I told you it's stupid-", you start, but he raises his other hand to stop you.

"Let me finish first. I ain't done yet."

You close your mouth as quickly as you had opened it and he takes in a deep breath. Arthur's eyes dart down to the grass that it swaying in the soft breeze and the gears in his head are working overtime while he tries to come up with the right words. There are a thousand things he wants to say, but none of them are good enough.

"You're fine just the way you are.", is all he manages to bring out, but that doesn't seem to do it. Of course it doesn't.

Much to his disappointment you pull your hand away from under his and leave it on your lap instead.

"I appreciate it, Arthur, but I'm doing okay. Really.", you murmur, but he shakes his head.

He scolds himself internally, forcing himself to get a grip already. The outlaw takes off his hat, leaving him somewhat vulnerable and he runs a hand through his messy hair.

"You're quite pretty actually.", he grumbles into his beard, so quietly that you almost don't catch it.

You stare at him with eyes wide from surprise, but there's also the ghost of a smile on your lips.

"You think I'm pretty?"

No. You're beautiful. A goddamn work of art.

"Course. Any man with workin' eyes 'n common sense can see it."

The look you're giving him is knocking the air straight out of his lungs. Your features soften, a smiling tugging at the corners of your mouth and that familiar bright gleam returns to your eyes. It fills him with life and making him think silly and soft things. Then, as if to finish him off entirely, you put your hand on his bearded cheek and press your tender lips on the other.

At this point, he's quite certain that he's standing in flames. His entire face is on fire, sweat rolling down his neck in streams and the fabric of his blue button up shirt becomes incredibly tight. Even as you pull away and your hand leaves him, he can still feel it on his skin. His heart is drumming against his ribcage and his tongue seems to have turned into a block of heavy clay.

This is too much. If he doesn't flee now then he will make a bigger fool out of himself than he already has. Nodding and producing some strange noises, that are actually supposed to be coherent sentences, he stands up and stumbles back to his tent. He hears you giggling behind him and he pushes his hat deep into his face.

Well done, Morgan.

[belphegore]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ଓ minors dni ⊹ boothill x reader (it's me I'm the reader) ⊹ possessiveness, nonsexual intimacy and use of stickers.

; this is entirely toooo self indulgent and corny BUT I've been going through it and I want to deck him in stupid tags okay?

"Can I be on top tonight?"

You had asked it like it was nothing, almost innocent and with a casual swing of your arms around his neck. A question he was all too used to anyway and on top of it, it had been pointed by a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth that lingered only enough for it to help your cause.

You didn't mention, however, what kind of "on top" you meant, and Boothill naturally didn't even think of asking either, or for that matter about what was in your stationary store bag of supplies...

He had, on the contrary, agreed rather quick and far too eagerly.

Thus...here you are now, victorious while straddling his lower back with all your weight pressed onto him.

And Boothill? He grumbles underneath you, but you know he's loving every second of it.

It had taken some effort to get him down, yes. He's twitchy and restless and just hates staying still, but you managed to somehow wrestle him into submission with a few more tactical kissing and playful threats in the form of nibbling to his ears and jaw and..., until he ended up giving in and flopping on his stomach atop your creaky bed.

.

"Uhm, can you stop wiggling for two seconds, now?" you ask sweet and dragging warm palms across the broad, shiny expanse of his back.

He's "naked" by definition, and you sit prettily perched just above his waist with your mischievous expression unconcealed and several sheets of stickers in your left hand.

There are puffy ones, and glittery ones, and some have jelly like texture even! Some of the stickers are shaped like kittens, some like hearts, and one (your favorite and the one that makes you the most excited) is a cutesy tag that reads "Property Of" in pink cursive and then a dotted line for you to write your name down.

Your ears meet his soft, frustrated groan.

"C'mon, 'm not even movin'!" so wonderfully pouty he is, and a million times more handsome when he tries to nonchalantly look over his shoulder and peek what the hell is it that are you arranging on him...

Though pressing a hand to his cheek, you gently shove his face back down like he's your nosy housecat (and to that he can only offer some more mumbling and cute huffing as an attempt at replying).

& in all honesty that is why you’re doing this in the first place.

You are, for lack of a better term that could spare you the embarrassment, jealous. Not the possessive or obsessive kind, you try to convince yourself. It's just that he is too...lovely, and you need the world to know that on top of beautiful and amazing and the best of them, Boothill is also yours. That he lets you manhandle him and grab at him and deck him in the most stupid stickers and he loves every minute of it despite the groaning and grumbling!

"Be fucking nice, mmkay?" though it all sounds more of a lighthearted chuckle than words and your tone saturated with affection for him, "you did agree to this, remember? Fair's fair, isn't that right?"

Boothill snorts.

"When did I— I did not?! Not like, covered in em like forkin' phone case!"

"Hey, I thiiiink you saw the stickers. It was implied."

You glue a couple of "LOVE" banners right under the dark metallic plating of his shoulder blades and let your thumb glide across it to get rid of bubbling, and then you seal it with a cheeky kiss and

"What the ever loving fudge are ya doin', seriously?" he tries and complains but it's a full whine, and he also attempts to move but you stop him again, this time with even more tender kisses: along the groves and indents of the top of his back, to the nape of his neck, where flesh meets compound metal, and at last to the soft back of the shell of his ear.

Sweet and effective.

"I'm doing things to you," you whisper, now back to grinning like a child and carefully arranging a row of kitten stickers on the opposite side, "cute things, mind you. And you're letting me."

"Insane person things, more like..."

"Ouch. You're mine though, alright? I'm just...labelling accordingly."

Boothill mutters something under his breath, but his arms stay folded under his head. He is, in fact, letting you. That's the part that gets you the most.

A delicate finger trails down the dip of his back, slow and teasing, and you can feel him get warmer, whatever systems functioning inside of him clearly starting to overwork themselves. The surface of his body is almost hot to the touch under your bare thighs, though the warmth is not only comforting but so very endearing.

Thighs squeeze against him and you take your sweet time choosing the next offense: a red, anatomically accurate heart. It goes right above his USB-like ports, near where the waistband of his pants should be, if he was wearing them.

"See, that one is pretty important," you add with a little pat to the area, the sound the slap makes its absolutely dull, "it's in a busy spot..."

It makes Boothill whine again while dragging a hand over his face, but you catch the edge of his crooked smile from the side. He's not as easily embarrassed, after all!

At last, you take the "Property Of..." adhesive tag and press it dead center on his lower back but juuust under the charging port, and smooth it down with reverence before grabbing your marker to carefully write down your name with a flourish.

"There, now everyone will know you're spoken for!"

"Ain't no one gonna take a look in there but you, sweetheart" he reassures you, ever so slightly flustered, but the sharp toothy grin he wears speaks of an entirely different emotion.

You laugh and wiggle off him to kiss the spot,

"That's kind of the idea..."

[darlingdaisyfarm]

୨ৎ hot summer night (Ford x fem!reader)

minors DNI

In the sweltering heat of a summer night at the Mystery Shack, you find yourself unable to sleep and stumble into the kitchen for a glass of water. Little did you expect Ford Pines to find you here like this, almost naked. God knows Ford tried. tags: sexual themes, nsfw, smut, kitchen sex, p in v, oral sex, praise kink, dirty talk, loud sex, from sub to dom ford, teasing

You look at the ceiling, the night silence is broken only by the buzzing of an old fan in the corner of the room. It’s unbearable, the heat. Kicking off the thin sheet that was sticking to your legs, you sigh. The twins are probably passed out, you think and prove of that is Stan's snoring could practically be heard through the walls. But you. . . you're damn awake, too hot to even think about sleep.

Screw it.

You slip out of bed, stretching your sore limbs. The old wooden floor creaks under your bare feet as you pad quietly down the stairs in nothing but a bralette with a tiny bow and your panties. Who the hell was going to see you at this hour, anyway?

The kitchen is dark when you step inside, and the thought of cold water is enough to make your mouth water. You take a glass and fill it from the tap, feeling the coolness under your fingers, which is a little relief in this damn heat. You take a sip, sighing, your body relaxing for the first time all night.

Then you hear it.

A shuffle. Someone’s steps.

You freeze, heart pounding. Fuck. You spin around, nearly dropping the glass, only to see him standing there. Ford. Great, just your luck. Stanford Pines, of all people, is here in the middle of the night. And you? Half-naked, barely anything covering you.

You feel your cheeks flush immediately, not just from the heat anymore. "Shit, Ford!" your voice barely above a whisper. "i thought everyone was asleep."

He looks as surprised as you feel, adjusting his glasses, eyes sweeping over you before darting away just as quickly. "I- I couldn’t sleep," he mutters, looking anywhere but at you, his normally calm voice sounded awkward at this moment. "too much on my mind, I guess."

You nod, trying to act casual, but the air between you becomes tense.

Ford fiddles with the rim of his glasses, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I didn't mean to interrupt,” he says, but his gaze just keeps returning to you, despite his obvious efforts to look away. What a beautiful sight in front of him. His eyes flick to the window, to the floor, but you’ve already caught him glancing at you more than once. It’s quick, like he's really ashamed, like the sight of you in just your bralette and panties is something he shouldn’t see, but can’t help but stare at.

His reaction to you isn’t what you expected, he’s usually so composed, so wrapped up in his own world of journals and interdimensional science that it’s like nothing could shake him. But here he is, standing in front of you, and he can’t take his eyes off your body. You stand here awkwardly. Ford clears his throat, his eyes flicker up to your face, but then you catch him, a quick glance downward, right at your bralette, to your nipples.

You shift uncomfortably, tugging the hem of your bralette down instinctively. “I just. . . needed some water,” you’re trying to break the tension

Stanford nods, but you catch him again, his gaze darting lower, this time lingering on the curve of your thighs, your panties hugging your hips. His Adam’s apple twitches as he swallows hard. You watch him adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose, his hands tremble slightly.

He’s trying not to look, but it’s obvious. He’s failing.

And the worst part? He’s clearly beating himself up over it. “I. . . shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles as his brows furrow, deep lines cutting across his forehead, like he's angry with himself. You don’t say anything, and that only seems to make it worse for him. His eyes fall shut for a moment, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm- damn it. I shouldn't-“

You know you should say something, anything, to break the tension, but instead, you just stand there, watching him struggle with his own thoughts. His eyes open again, and this time when he looks at you, it’s different. There’s heat in them, something he clearly doesn’t want to feel. His eyes trace the lines of your legs, lingering a little too long on your bare thighs, and then up again to your bralette.

"Ford. . .” you start, but he cuts you off with a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "God, what the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t-“ he rubs a hand over his face, turning away slightly, like he’s trying to physically stop himself from looking at you. "I’m too old for this. For you."

You turn away from him, feeling the need to focus on something, anything, other than the heat pooling between your legs what makes you unbelievably wet and horny. The sound of water pouring into your glass is the only thing filling the silence now, but you can feel his eyes on you. Even with your back turned, you can feel him watching.

As you stretch up to place the glass back on the shelf, your shirt rides up just a little, exposing more of your lower back and hips. You don’t do it on purpose, but it’s like the air gets hotter, the tension between you two almost suffocating. And now it’s not because of summer. You’re not oblivious. You know he’s still looking.

Behind you, Ford’s breath hitches, and you hear him shift awkwardly. His mind’s at war with itself. He knows he should turn away. No. . . He must walk away, run away. But he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze locks onto the soft curve of your waist, your hips, the way the fabric of your panties hugs your skin. It feels wrong, so fucking wrong, but he can’t help himself. His eyes drift lower, following the delicate lines of your legs.

Stanford feels a stirring deep in his gut, an unwelcome, insistent pressure building. "Shit. . .” he mutters under his breath, barely audible.

Blood runs to his cock, he’s getting hard and he knows he shouldn’t be. Every logical part of him is screaming to stop, to tear his eyes away, but his body and feelings betrays him. He watches as you stretch again, the hem of your bralette lifting, exposing more skin, and feels how his pants are getting tighter.

You catch the faint curse slip from his mouth, and for a moment, you pause, gripping the glass tighter in your hand. You don’t need to turn around to know what’s going on behind you, but there’s something that makes you curious. Part of you wants to tease him, just a little more, but you stay quiet, pretending not to notice.

“Ford, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, fine.”

“You sure? You seem. . . tense,” you say, dragging the word out just enough to make it obvious you know exactly what’s going on.

He clears his throat, but there’s no hiding the fact that he’s clearly struggling to keep it together. “I’m- I don’t know what’s wrong with me, goddamn it, I’m sorry.”

Your lips curl into a small smile. "You don’t have to be," you say, turning around fully now, your eyes locking with his. "I mean, it's not like I’m exactly dressed for modesty right now."

Ford runs a hand through his hair, clearly at a loss for words. He opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a weak, "You should. . . put on something more."

Your eyes linger on him, the way his chest rising and falling as he’s breathing heavily. You know you should feel awkward, embarrassed even, but you don’t. Instead, you feel something else. You take a step closer, just enough to close the gap between the two of you, and watch as his eyes widen. And then you do it — you slowly lower the strap of your bralette, letting it slip off your shoulder. His gaze follows the movement instantly, like he's mesmerized, completely unable to look away.

Ford’s eyes glued to the skin you’re revealing. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and you can see the conflict all over his face. His body betrays him, his hands twitch at his sides, like he's fighting the urge to reach out, to touch you. He swallows hard, trying desperately to keep control, but it’s so obvious he’s struggling. His pants are unbearably fucking tight now, a bulge straining against the fabric, and it hurts him so bad. 

"Jesus Christ. . . what are you doing? you-you shouldn't-“

You tilt your head slightly, letting your fingers toy with the other strap, but you don’t lower it, yet. “What?” you ask innocently, your tone light, teasing. “does it bother you, Ford?”

He’s quiet again for a second as he tries to force out words. “This- this isn’t right.” 

You take another step closer, almost closing the space between you. His breathing is ragged now, his gaze hungry despite the guilt clouding his features. “I don’t know, Ford,” you murmur. “you don’t look like you want me to stop.”

He groans softly, his body tensing at your words, his dick is going to explode.

Ford’s eyes dart around the room, searching for some kind of escape from the situation. His hands grip the edge of the counter as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “No, we can’t. . . not here-“

You tilt your head, feigning confusion, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Not here? oh, then in your room maybe?”

He shakes his head. “Fuck, no, I mean- fuck,” he stammers, trying to find the right words but only fucking up more. “This is- this is insane,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m supposed to be- damn it, I’m old enough to know better.”

“Ford,” you say softly, “you don’t have to be so hard on yourself. I mean, it’s just us here. What’s the harm?”

“I shouldn’t be doing this. You- you have no idea how much I want to. . .”

You lean in, your voice dropping to a whisper. “But you do want to, don’t you?”

Ford’s eyes snap open. “Yes, but- but we can’t”

You cut him off, gently pressing your body against his, your breath warm against his ear. “Why not?” you whisper, your lips brushing against his skin. “tell me what’s stopping you.”

He groans, his control slipping even further. “God, this is such a bad idea, im so fucking attracted to you, but this- it’s not right.”

“Isn’t it?” you murmur, your lips grazing his ear as your hand lays on his bulge, slowly and gently caressing it. His cock twitches.

You press closer, your words a siren’s call, tempting him, he swears he’ll just cum right in his pants only from your voice, he doesn’t even wanna think what’ll happen if he’ll fuck you.

“Tell me, Ford. Did you think about how your fingers would feel in me? what you’d do with them?”

He’s fucking surprised, what a fast girl you are, straight to the point. “I- shit,” he hisses. “i imagined them everywhere. Touching you, your, oh my god, your-“

You interrupt him, leaning in closer, your breath warm against his lips. “You don’t have to imagine anymore,” you whisper, your hands sliding down his chest to the waistband of his pants. “i want you to touch me. Everywhere you’ve dreamed about.” you whisper as you smile against his ear, your fingers slipping under the waistband of his pants, brushing against his skin. “You want me to tell you where I want your fingers? i want them. . . right here.” you press your fingers locked with his to the inner of your thigh.

His breath catches and he fucking groans again. “Jesus. this is- this is so fucked up, but I can’t, I can’t stop.”

Slowly you lower yourself to your knees in front of him. His eyes follow every movement. It can’t be happening. “do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

You look up at him with a smirk, your fingers teasingly brushing against the bulge in his pants. “I think you know exactly what I’m doing,” you murmur, “now, let me show you just how much I want you.”

You brush your fingers gently over his clothed hardness, feeling the way he twitches under your touch. Ford’s hands tremble, his control slipping away with every touch, every word. He looks down at you, his face a mix of need and regret, his body aching with desire as you take the final step, his cock springs free, already hard and throbbing and you look up at him with a wicked grin. Then you bring your lips to his tip, giving it a light kiss. His fingers grip the counter for support, knuckles white against the wood.

“Fuck,” Stanford mutters, bucking his hips. “Please, just don’t stop. . .” Ford’s eyes roll back, his head falling back against the cabinet as he struggles to keep himself together. He’s lost in the sensations, his entire focus on the way you’re swirling your tongue around his tip. “Mmm-! yeah, yeah. . .”

You take him into your mouth, slowly, your tongue curling around him in a way that makes him gasp. Fuck, he tastes so good and you enjoy the way he shudders and moans above you. His hands find their way to your head, all six fingers tangled in your hair as he tries to hold onto something, anything, to keep from losing himself completely.

“Aghnn, s-such a good girl-“

You hear his praise and take him deeper, your head moving with a rhythm, drawing out every groan and sigh from him. As you suck his cock, you can feel the ache between your thighs growing more intense. The more you please him, the more he moans, the more horny you get, fuck, you’re getting awfully wet from this. And you find your free hand slipping between your legs, pressing against the soaked fabric of your panties.

Ford’s groans fill the room, so desperate as he holds your head and fucks your mouth, but when his eyes flick down and see your hand moving between your legs, something snaps inside him. “Shit,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his hips bucking slightly into your mouth. “I- oh god, baby. . .” Ford’s gaze locks onto you, and his breath hitches at the sight of you rubbing your clit while you continue to take him in your mouth. He can see how you’re trying to satisfy yourself. His hands move to your shoulders, gripping tightly. “I can see how much you need it. I can’t just let you do this alone.”

You pull away, your face flushed and your breaths ragged. You look up at him, all turned on and hot.

“Let me take care of you, babygirl.” last thing you hear him say before he lifts you effortlessly, his hands gripping your thighs as he turns you around and bends you over the counter. You gasp in surprise, your heart racing as the cool surface of the counter presses against your skin. Your panties are pushed aside as he positions himself behind you, his cock, all wet from your saliva, rubs sweetly between your folds.

“Ford-!” you start, but he cuts you off with a slap on your ass.

“You’ve been teasing me all night. Now it’s my turn.”

You shudder at his words, your body arching into his touch. He leans over you, leaving kisses on your neck and groaning in it as his hands trail down your thighs until he reaches the waistband of your panties. His fingers hook under the fabric, pulling them down just enough to expose your dripping cunt, and his hand settles between your thighs, rubbing you slowly.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, sweetie,” he mutters. His fingers begin to work in slow circles on your aching clit, rubbing you.

You moan, pressing your hips back against him, desperate for more. “Ford-! ple-please. . .

He chuckles darkly, his fingers collecting your slick. “Oh, you want more, do you? After everything you did to me, now you’re begging?” his other hand slides up your back, pushing your body further against the counter, making your ass raise up even more as he teases you mercilessly. “You’re going to take what I give you.”

“Fuck- fuck yes!” you gasp, your body trembling under his control. His fingers work faster, the slick sounds of him rubbing you filling the kitchen as the pressure builds inside you. You’re panting, your body reacting to every touch, every stroke, your mind crazy . “I’m ready,” you whine. “I need you, Ford- pleasee!”

He pulls your panties down fully and steps back just enough to take in the sight of you bent over the counter for him, your legs spread, ass up, your skin flushed.

“God, you’re perfect, dollface,” he murmurs, more to himself, his hand running over the curve of your ass before landing a sharp slap that makes you gasp and press back against him.

You feel his hands steadying you as he rubs his length against your soaked pussy. Every inch of him is hard, and you can feel how badly he needs you. “You’re going to take me now,” he whispers against your ear. “all of me.”

Without waiting for an answer, he thrusts his hips forward, sliding into you with a groan. You cry out, the sudden fullness overwhelming, but it’s exactly what you wanted. Your soft walls welcome him as you clench around his throbbing cock.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grits out, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls you back against him with every thrust. “I’m not gonna last long like this.” 

You can barely respond, the pleasure is so intense that it leaves you breathless. All you can do is moan and gasp his name as he fucks you from behind, holding your waist.

His pace quickens, the sound of your bodies moving together filling the air, so fucking dirty. “Say my name,” Ford demands. 

“Fo-Ford-!” you gasp, barely able to get the word out as he thrusts deeper, his dick feels so good inside you. 

Ford’s body is pressed tightly against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his hands gripping your hips as if he’s afraid to let go. Each thrust is followed by his groans and your moan. He fucks you so hard, holding your body like he’s trying to make up for lost time, time he spent denying what he wanted. 

“F-fuuuck,” he groans as he can’t believe this is happening. “I’ve thought about this, about fucking you for so long. Needed to fill this little pretty cunt. . .” 

He grips you tighter, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and you feel his fingers dig into your skin. You’re both lost in it, his rhythm hard and fast, but there’s something in the way he moves—like he’s still in disbelief, like he thinks this is going to disappear. 

Ford’s thrusts grow more erratic and you can feel him losing himself in you completely. His breath is hot and jagged against the back of your neck as he pounds into you, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room, slap after slap. You can hear him muttering under his breath, words slipping out like he can’t control them anymore.

“Fuck, this is unreal. . . so good to be true,” he groans, each thrust deeper, harder than the last. His grip on your hips tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of how desperately he needs this, needs you. “Can’t stop- won’t stop.” you moan his name, your body arching to meet him and your eyes roll back.

Stanford’s hand slides to your front, his fingers rubbing roughly against your clit as he fucks you harder, deeper. That drives you mad, his thumb circling your needy clit, the pleasure builds in you fast, almost too fast, and you can barely breathe as he thrusts into your cunt. You’re both a mess, the heat between you making it impossible to think straight. 

Then, through the haze, his voice comes out, rough and desperate. "No, no, baby. . . need to see your face," Ford moans. "Need you to fucking see who’s filling up this tight pussy right now."

Before you can react, he pulls out and spins you around, pressing you against the counter. You barely have time to catch your breath before he grabs your thighs, spreading you wide and slams back into you. The force makes you gasp and his hands are everywhere, fingers gripping your skin, going to your breasts, cupping them, pinching your hard nipples through your bralette like he can’t get enough.

“I need to see your face, sweetie.” he leans closer to you. “need you to see who’s fucking you senseless right now, yeah?” you close your eyes tight being a moaning and whining mess under him. His eyes lock onto yours and he fucks into you much rougher. “Look at me while I fuck you,” he commands. “Look at me and see who’s fucking filling up this sweet cunt right now.” his hips snapping forward again, hitting deep- so deep you swear you can feel him pressing against your cervix. "im gonna fucking lose it, baby, look at me, look at me while I wreck this cunt."

You can barely focus, your vision blurred by the waves of pleasure crashing over you. You’re too breathless to respond, your body trembling from his pace, but you lock eyes with him. Ford’s movements are so rough, each thrust deeper and harder as he drives you both toward the edge. “You’re taking it so well,” he growls. “So fucking tight. Goddamn, such a good girl for me.” as he continues to pound into you. 

“Yes, Ford-!” you gasp. His words, his cock - it’s all too much. “im- im yours. All yours, ahhhn” you swear feel his cock dragging against every inch of you, his thickness stretching you so wide it’s obscene. Your head spins as his filthy words push you even closer to the edge, make you even more wet when you thought it’s impossible. “F-Ford, fuuck, i can’t-!” you whine, but before you can finish, his thumb is rubbing roughly yet so fucking nicely over your clit and you arch into him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he warns you as he can’t help but watch your pussy take his cock. “I’m gonna cum inside you, fill you up completely.” the pressure building in your core as he pounds into you, harder, deeper, relentless

Your own pleasure peaks, and you cry out, your body trembling as you cum hard, body convulsing as you finally break, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You cry out his name, your thighs trembling as he keeps fucking you through it, his hips slamming into yours. You’re shaking in his hands, your little pussy so tight around him, milking him, every drop. Ford follows, his orgasm hitting him as he thrusts into you, filling you completely. 

You barely have time to catch your breath before Ford’s grip tightens and with one final, rough thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, groaning loudly as he spills into you. “Fuckkk, yes,” his voice breaking. “s-such a good girl, huh,” his body trembles against yours, his cock pulsing inside as he empties himself, filling you completely. you gasp again as you feel his cum filling you up and you just stay still, enjoying this feeling as he claims you, burying his seed deep inside your womb.

The intensity of his orgasm leaves him breathless, his body shuddering as he holds you tightly. He stands still against you, his legs trembling, both of you panting heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. “Jesus fucking christ. . .” Ford mumbles, looking at you. “I can’t believe I fucking did that." he looks down, watching as his release drips from between your legs. What a sight.

The room falls into a sudden, heavy silence, save for the sound of your breathing as you both come down from the intense high. Ford’s hands are still gripping your hips, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His forehead rests against yours. The realization of what just happened slowly starts to settle in.

Your eyes meet, wide and tired. Neither of you speaks for a moment, still shocked what just happened. Ford’s gaze flickers, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his lips parted as though he wants to say something but can’t find the words.

Ford swallows hard, his grip loosening just slightly. “I. . . I can’t believe it,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t think- damn, I didn’t mean for it to-“ he brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead. 

The realization of how loud everything had been creeps in: the slamming of bodies, the gasps, the moans. Shit! Your face heats up as the thought clicks in your mind.

“Do you think. . .?” you begin, glancing nervously toward the hallway.

Ford’s eyes widen. He seems to understand what's going on at the same time as you do.

Then, from the hallway outside the kitchen, there’s the unmistakable creak of floorboards, followed by a very familiar voice.

“For the love of god, could you two have picked a quieter fuckin’ spot?”

[pedroscurls]

The reader and Hugh are in bed in the morning and the reader has to get up for work but Hugh doesn't want her to leave so pulls her back in bed in a big bear hug and she calls In sick 😉

bad influence (one-shot)

summary: already running late for work, hugh convinces you to call in sick. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader tags / warnings: fluff, brief suggestive sexual content (18+), no use of y/n word count: 913 a/n: to the anon who sent this in - i'm so sorry it took me a while to post this! hope you enjoy regardless. and as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

You awake with a jolt, glancing at the clock and realizing that you’ve slept through your alarm. You glance over to the man next to you who’s stirring awake at your sudden movements. He’s lying on his back, shirtless with an arm behind his head as his eyes slowly begin to flutter open. 

“Oh my god, I’m going to be late!” you exclaim, trying to scramble out of bed and bringing the sheet with you. Last night had been amazing and you hadn’t expected to spend the night with Hugh. It had only been your third date with him, but throughout the night, there had been a lingering tension of what the night would bring. 

When he invited you back to his place after dinner, you were excited to accept. To be able to spend uninterrupted time with him behind closed doors without worrying about someone asking for a picture or an autograph was something you were looking forward to. You had both been sitting on the couch – you with your glass of wine and him with his – before the effects of alcohol coursed through your veins and gave you the courage to straddle his lap. 

He had looked up at you in surprise, but with an excited look in his eyes. Hugh had immediately rested his hands on your hips and groaned to himself when you pressed yourself further into him. He wanted to be a gentleman, wanted to be respectful of you and your boundaries, but the more time he spent with you, the more he found it difficult to keep the pent up frustration to himself. His hand could only do so much and he was finding that he needed more relief. He needed you. 

So, when you agreed to come over to his place, Hugh was excited. Not only because of what could happen, but because he was starting to like you more and more with each date. He didn’t want to scare you away, but you had promised him that his lifestyle wouldn’t deter you from pursuing a relationship with him. And it was true. When fans came up to him, you gave him the space and distance he needed but also went so far as to offer to take the picture for the fans; you knew how important Hugh’s fans were to him. 

When the paparazzi would follow him, you’d be right there by his side, just as polite and kind as he was. He knew that not many people could fit into his life, especially after the success of Deadpool & Wolverine, but you managed to fit in so well – like you had always belonged by his side. 

And last night… Well last night was amazing. Falling asleep with you in his arms had lulled him to a deep slumber and it had been a very long time since he had a good night’s rest. Hugh had convinced you to just spend the night, that he’d wake up early today to make sure you leave on time for work, but he was just too comfortable. Too relaxed with you by his side that he had slept through his own alarm too. 

When he hears you mumble under your breath, followed by your sudden movements, Hugh slowly opens his eyes. He sees you from the corner of his eyes lifting the sheet above your chest, covering yourself. He grins to himself, having remembered that you both had fallen asleep naked. 

“What are you doing?” he whispers, the hand behind his head reaching out to gently rest on your lower back as you sit up. 

“I’m going to be late for work, Hugh,” you answer. “I should be at home, already on the way to leave and–”

“Take the day off,” Hugh interjects, eyes gazing up at you. “Spend it with me.”

“Hugh, I can’t. I have a big project that I need to get done.”

“Will it be done today?” Hugh asks.

“Well, no, but–”

“Then at least you’ll have something you can do tomorrow.” Hugh smirks.

You shake your head and go to climb out of his large bed before his arm snakes around your waist to pull you back into bed. He turns on his side and pulls your body flush against him as your back rests against his chest. 

“Hugh…” you whisper, feeling his naked body press against you from behind. You can feel his lower half begin to harden, begin to stir awake at the close proximity. 

“Call in sick, baby,” he mumbles, lips lowering to pepper soft kisses along the back of your bare shoulder. Hugh’s hand slowly dips lower past your abdomen, inching closer and closer to the place between your legs. 

“You’re a bad influence,” you whimper, rolling back into him as your hand reaches down to grip his wrist. 

Hugh grins against you, leaning up to gently nibble at your earlobe. “I’ll take as much time with you as I can get, baby. Now, let me have my breakfast, yeah?” 

You’re about to ask him what he means before he moves to hover above you, lowering himself further and further down the bed until he disappears underneath the sheets. You feel his breath against the inside of your leg and when he licks a stripe up the center of your sex, your back arches and you reach down to grip onto his hair. 

“God, good morning to me,” you whisper, eyes falling shut as you let out a quiet moan. 

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

[bleach-your-panties]

sexy prompts for inumaki! all characters aged 18+

"T-Toge...we shouldn't do this here...they could easily see us, even from down there!"

The white-haired male only breathed a warm sigh into the crook of your neck as he helped you balance your leg up on the windowsill.

While Maki, Yuta, and Panda trained in the courtyard down below, Toge was sliding his long cock between your creamy, wet folds.

Your left hand haphazardly gripped onto the material of his pants while your right arm laid wrapped around his neck.

His nose bumped against your cheek, his silent way of asking you if you wanted him to continue.

"Yes, but, please Toge, we need to be careful. Okay?"

Those last words were lost on his ears as he shifted and gripped you underneath your armpits.

He expertly aimed his cock up at your hole and allowed you to sink yourself onto it just as you'd done so many times before.

Your face swarmed with heat as Toge bounced you on him hurriedly - there was no telling who might come around the corner or down the hallway and see the two of you in this position, but that was the entire thrill of public sex, wasn't it?

Not to mention your friends who might idly decide to glance upwards and get an eyeful of Toge pounding you in front of the open window.

But Toge, the ever-observant boyfriend noticed your apprehension about being caught, so what did he do?

He folded you at the waist, never slipping out of you as he continued his relentless thrusts.

"T-Toge! Slow down!" Your hands gripped his legs now while your head hung upside down, giving you a perfect view of his balls slamming against your ass.

"Huh, did you guys hear something? It sounded like it came from the second floor." Panda pointed a clawed finger up towards the window, where Inumaki gave him a close-eyed smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh, never mind, it's just Inumaki."

Maki pushed the furry away and adjusted her glasses to gaze up at the window as well.

"Inumaki?! What are you doing up there? Your ass should be down here training with the rest of us! And where's Y/N?!"

She impatiently stalked off with her staff thrown over her shoulder, mumbling something about slackers. Yuta brushed a hand through his dark hair sighed, and followed after the green-haired woman with Panda in tow.

"I'm gonna cum, Toge..I...my head...getting dizzy..."

Next, you were pulled up and your back slammed up against the wall beside the window. Your shaky legs came up to wrap around your boyfriend's waist.

Toge continued to bounce you on him in this new position, relishing in the sound of your moans and the way your chest bounced in rhythm with his thrusts.

Your nails dug into his shoulders while your head lolled to one side. He wanted to laugh at you, but instead let out a loud grunt. His hips stuttered and he carefully lowered both of your bodies to the floor, dick pulsing and shooting his cum up against your walls that gripped him for dear life.

"Toge...you're a monster..." You huffed at him once you came down from your orgasm and he did laugh this time while holding up the "I love you" hand signal.

"I love you, too, you bitch."

----

sexy prompt list:

#21 - Fucking with the window wide open

💗💗🍡°tagging: @darkstarlight82 @eternalalmondd