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psychedelic-ink · 2 months

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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, jakcson era, mutual pining, strangers to lovers, minors dni

word count: 15k

summary: joel saves you and brings you to jackson, after healing you become the local librarian of the community.

warnings: some angst with happy ending, mutual pining, female masturbation, slow burn, reader's name is Ash + bisexual, oral (both receiving), heavy petting, piv, dirty talk, soft dom!joel, submissive!reader, reader enjoys bands and books, blood mention, canon typical violence, some spoilers for part 2 (for ellie)

a/n: this was commissioned by @ashleyfilm 💜 thank you so much for being patient with me and supporting me!

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the rugged terrain of Wyoming. Joel rode slowly, his horse's hooves crunching softly on the gravel path. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth, a refreshing change from the stale, musty confines of Jackson’s walls. Tall trees bordered the path, their leaves rustling gently in the mild breeze, creating a soothing symphony that mingled with the distant calls of birds. The sky stretched wide above, a brilliant canvas of blues and pinks, with streaks of orange signaling the approach of dusk.

In the distance, the snow-capped peaks of the mountains loomed majestically, their silent, steadfast presence a reminder of nature's unyielding power. The grass swayed gently in the wind, patches of wildflowers adding bursts of color to the verdant landscape. Joel could hear the faint trickle of a stream nearby, its clear waters winding through the forest, a lifeline in this vast, untamed wilderness. The tranquility of the scene was deceptive, masking the dangers that lurked just beyond the tree line.

Joel’s eyes scanned the surroundings with practiced precision, taking in every detail. The gnarled bark of ancient trees, the glint of sunlight on the surface of the stream, the fleeting shadows cast by birds overhead – everything was noted, cataloged, filed away in his mind. The world outside Jackson was a place of both breathtaking beauty and constant peril, and Joel knew better than to let his guard down. Still, in moments like this, it was hard not to appreciate the raw, untouched splendor of the land around him.

Joel dismounted from his horse, the reins held loosely in his hand as he walked the rest of the way on foot. He preferred the quiet that walking afforded, the ability to move silently through the underbrush, alert to every rustle and crack in the woods around him. The air was filled with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the fading light painted long shadows across the forest floor.

As he moved deeper into the trees, a noise caught his attention – the low murmur of voices, urgent and panicked. Joel’s instincts kicked in, and he crouched low, moving stealthily toward the source of the commotion. Each step was measured, his boots barely making a sound on the soft ground. The voices grew louder, more distinct, and he could make out the gruff tones of men in distress.

Joel reached the edge of a small clearing and paused, hidden behind a thick oak tree. He peered around the trunk, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. Three men stood in a loose circle, their backs to him, all focused on something on the ground. Their postures were tense, movements agitated. Joel’s gaze shifted, and he saw what held their attention – a woman, unconscious and sprawled in the grass, her dark hair matted with blood.

Nearby, the bodies of two raiders lay crumpled, their lifeless forms testament to a recent struggle. Blood stained the ground around them, dark and viscous. The men standing over her seemed distraught, their faces pale and drawn. One of them knelt beside her, checking for a pulse, while the others scanned the perimeter, their eyes darting nervously.

Joel crept closer, using the trees and underbrush for cover. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the danger that could erupt at any moment. He could hear the men speaking now, their words sharp and anxious.

"Fucking bitch went feral," one of them hissed, his voice trembling.

"Yeah, these types are the worst," the man kneeling beside the girl replied. "They’ll do anything to survive, even when they’re outnumbered."

"Well, it’ll be easier to make use of her now," another said, his voice filled with anger and fear. "But look at them. She took them out, or at least put up one hell of a fight."

Joel's eyes lingered on the unconscious woman. She was small, curvy even in her battered state, and dressed in dark clothing. Despite the blood and grime, there was a fierceness about her that spoke of resilience and strength. He felt a pang of something – concern, perhaps, or admiration for her courage. But then he noticed something else: one of the men standing over her had drawn a knife.

"Let’s not take a chance and kill her now," the man with the knife said, his voice hard. "Then we can make use of her."

Joel’s jaw tightened. He knew these types – survivors who looked out for themselves first, willing to abandon those in need if it meant their own safety. Normally, he might have looked the other way, rationalizing it as the harsh reality of their world. But something about the girl struck a chord deep within him, a fierce need to protect her that he couldn’t explain.

Without another thought, Joel acted. He slipped his revolver from its holster, the weight familiar and comforting in his hand. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from his hiding place, weapon raised. "Put the knife down," he commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

The men spun around, eyes wide with shock and fear. The one with the knife hesitated, then lunged at Joel. In a swift, practiced motion, Joel fired, the shot echoing through the trees. The man fell, clutching his chest, his knife clattering to the ground.

The other two men reacted, one drawing a gun while the other tried to grab the girl. Joel moved quickly, taking aim and firing again. The second man dropped, blood blooming on his shirt. The last man, realizing the fight was lost, turned and fled into the woods.

Joel lowered his gun, breathing heavily, and approached the girl. She was still unconscious, her pulse weak and erratic. He felt that strange pull again, a fierce need to protect her. He quickly checked her for any serious injuries, then lifted her gently in his arms.

He carried her back to his horse, securing her in front of him. With a final glance at the clearing, he urged his horse forward, heading back towards Jackson. The girl’s head lolled against his chest, and he could feel the faint rise and fall of her breath. He didn’t know who she was or what had happened to her, but he was determined to get her to safety. As the forest closed in around them, Joel’s thoughts were a swirl of concern, determination, and a growing sense of responsibility for the woman in his arms.

Joel rode through the thickening twilight, the girl's limp body held securely in his arms. The rhythmic motion of the horse and the steady beat of her faint pulse against his chest did little to calm his racing thoughts. He found himself plagued by a storm of emotions he couldn’t quite name. Usually, the sight of another person in peril would elicit a practiced detachment, a necessary survival mechanism in this brutal world. But this time, something was different.

As they neared Jackson, Joel’s mind kept returning to the clearing – the dead raiders, the unconscious girl, the inexplicable urge to save her. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts, but they clung to him, persistent and unyielding. His grip on the reins tightened as he urged his horse faster, the town’s gates coming into view, the welcoming lights a stark contrast to the darkness encroaching on the forest.

The gates creaked open as he approached, familiar faces of the night guards registering surprise at the sight of Joel carrying an injured woman. He gave them a brief nod, too focused on his task to engage in any explanations. He directed his horse towards the infirmary, the only place in Jackson equipped to handle such emergencies.

"Doc! Get the doc!" he shouted as he dismounted, carefully cradling the girl in his arms. A flurry of movement followed as people rushed to help. The infirmary door swung open, and Joel stepped inside, the warm, sterile smell a sharp contrast to the cold, earthy scent of the woods.

"Over here!" Dr. Allen called, clearing a space on one of the cots. Joel laid the girl down gently, stepping back as the medical team sprang into action. His hands, now free, trembled slightly. He clenched them into fists, trying to steady himself.

Dr. Allen, a middle-aged woman with keen eyes and a calm demeanor, began her examination immediately. She worked with swift precision, checking the girl’s vitals, assessing her injuries. Joel watched from a distance, every muscle in his body taut with worry.

"She’s stable, but barely," Dr. Allen said, glancing up at Joel. "What happened out there?"

Joel exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Found her out near the old logging road. Raiders got to her, but she fought back. Took down a couple of them before I got there."

Dr. Allen nodded, focusing back on her patient. "She’s got a strong will to survive. That’s good. She’s going to need it."

Joel hovered near the doorway, his eyes never leaving the girl. He felt an intense, inexplicable need to ensure she was safe, to see her through this. The room buzzed with activity as the medical team cleaned her wounds, administered fluids, and worked to stabilize her condition. Joel’s worry gnawed at him, an unfamiliar sensation that left him feeling exposed and raw.

Hours seemed to feel like days as he waited, the minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness. Tommy appeared at some point, a concerned look on his face as he approached Joel.

"Hey," Tommy said softly, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. "You okay?"

Joel nodded stiffly. "Yeah, just… worried about her."

Tommy glanced at the girl, then back at Joel. "You don’t even know her."

"I know," Joel replied, his voice low. "But I couldn’t just leave her there."

Tommy gave him a knowing look, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You did the right thing. She’s in good hands now."

The night wore on, the medical team’s efforts began to show results. The girl’s breathing steadied, her pulse grew stronger. Dr. Allen finally stepped back, wiping her brow.

"She’s going to make it," she announced, and the tension in the room visibly lessened. Joel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over him.

"Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Dr. Allen nodded. "She’ll need rest and care, but she’s a fighter. She’ll pull through."

Joel settled into a chair by her bedside, watching over her as she slept. The worry that had plagued him since he found her eased slightly, replaced by a determined resolve. He didn’t understand why he felt such a connection to this stranger, but he knew one thing for certain: he would be there for her, whatever it took.

As dawn broke over Jackson, casting a soft glow through the infirmary windows, Joel remained by her side, haunted by thoughts he couldn’t quite comprehend but resolute in his newfound purpose.

He remained by her side, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but unwilling to leave her alone. The infirmary had quieted down, the initial rush of activity giving way to a more subdued atmosphere.

When the first light of dawn seeped through the windows, casting long shadows across the room, Joel's thoughts drifted to the moments before he found her. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the woman lying unconscious, the dead raiders around her, the way she had fought so fiercely to survive. There was something about her, a strength and determination that resonated with him deeply.

Tommy returned, bringing a steaming cup of coffee. He handed it to Joel, who accepted it gratefully. "How's she doing?" Tommy asked, his voice hushed.

"Better," Joel replied, his eyes never leaving the girl. "Dr. Allen said she’s going to make it, but she needs rest."

Tommy nodded, pulling up a chair next to Joel. "You should get some rest too, brother. You’ve been up all night."

Joel shook his head. "I’ll rest when I know she’s out of the woods. Until then, I’m staying right here."

Tommy sighed but didn’t argue. He knew better than to try and change Joel’s mind once it was made up. Instead, he settled into his chair, offering silent support. The two brothers sat in companionable silence, the weight of the night’s events hanging heavily between them.

A while later, the infirmary door opened again, and Maria walked in, her face a mix of concern and curiosity. "Heard you had quite the night," she said, her gaze shifting from Joel to the woman on the bed.

"Yeah," Joel replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Found her just in time. She’s a fighter, though."

Maria smiled softly and approached the bedside, looking at the unconscious girl. "Seems like she’ll fit right in around here. We could use more fighters."

Joel nodded, a sense of agreement settling over him. He didn’t know what lay ahead for her, but he was certain she had a place in Jackson. Maria turned to Joel, her eyes searching his face.

"You’ve been here all night?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," Joel admitted, his voice low. "Couldn’t leave her alone."

Maria exchanged a glance with Tommy, a silent understanding passing between them. "You’ve done enough for now, Joel. Let us take over for a bit. You need some rest."

Joel hesitated, his eyes lingering. "I can’t. Not yet."

Maria sighed, but there was no frustration in her expression, only compassion. "Alright, but at least sit down. We’ll stay with you."

Joel nodded and He settled back into his chair, his eyes never straying far from her face. Tommy and Maria took seats nearby, their presence a comforting reminder that he wasn’t alone in this.

At one point, Maria leaned over to Tommy and whispered, "I’ve never seen Joel this concerned about a stranger before."

Tommy nodded, his eyes on Joel. "Yeah, it’s unusual. But I think she means something to him, even if he doesn’t fully realize it yet."

Maria glanced at the girl, then back at Joel. "Maybe she’s what he needs. Someone to remind him that there’s still good worth fighting for."

Tommy squeezed Maria’s hand, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe. Let’s just hope she pulls through."

As evening approached, she began to stir, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to wake up. Joel leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest.

Slowly, her eyes opened, dark and filled with confusion. She blinked several times, trying to focus on her surroundings. When her gaze finally landed on Joel, there was a flicker of recognition, followed by a mix of relief and apprehension.

"Hey there," Joel said softly, his voice gentle. "You’re safe now. You’re in Jackson."

She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Who…?"

"My name’s Joel," he replied. "I found you out there. Brought you back here to get some help. You’re going to be okay."

She nodded weakly, her eyes drifting shut again. She was still exhausted, her body demanding more rest. Joel felt a sense of relief wash over him. She was awake, and she knew she was safe.

Tommy and Maria watched the exchange with quiet interest, noting the tenderness in Joel’s voice and the protective way he watched over the girl.

"Looks like she’s in good hands," Maria said softly, her eyes meeting Joel’s. "You did good, Joel."

Joel nodded, his expression resolute. "Just want to make sure she’s okay."

As night fell, Joel remained, his thoughts a swirl of concern, determination, and a growing sense of responsibility for the woman in his care. Tommy and Maria eventually left, their reassurances lingering in the air.

Joel knew that whatever the future held, he was committed to seeing this through. He didn’t fully understand the connection he felt to this stranger, but he knew one thing for certain: he would protect her, no matter what.

***

You drifted in and out of consciousness, your mind a haze of pain and confusion. Each time you woke, the world around you shifted in and out of focus, as if you were seeing it through frosted glass. Your body ached with a deep, relentless throb that seemed to come from every part of you.

Voices echoed around you, muffled and distant, as though they were coming from underwater. You could barely make out the words, but you remembered men shouting, the sharp crack of gunfire, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. The memories came in fragments, each one more disjointed than the last.

Amidst the chaos, there was a moment of clarity, a fleeting glimpse of a man with a hard, weathered face, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and something else—concern, maybe? His face blurred as your vision faded, and you slipped back into the darkness.

The next time you woke, it was to a different sensation. You were being carried, held tightly against a warm chest. The rhythmic motion of walking jostled you gently, and you could hear the steady beat of a heart beneath your ear. The scent of sweat, leather, and something comforting enveloped you, grounding you in the moment.

You tried to open your eyes, to see who was carrying you, but your eyelids felt like they were made of lead. All you could do was rest your head against the warmth, feeling a strange sense of safety despite the pain that racked your body.

The world shifted again, and you found yourself lying on something soft—a bed, maybe? There were more voices now, urgent but less panicked than before. Hands touched you, checking your injuries, and you flinched at the pain. You heard someone speaking close by, their voice low and soothing, but the words were lost to you.

***

You slipped in and out of consciousness, each time catching fleeting glimpses of your surroundings. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls. Sometimes, you saw the man from before, sitting close by, his eyes never leaving you. Other times, you saw different faces—concerned, caring, but always strangers.

Pain flared up again, pulling you under, and you felt yourself drifting away once more. The last thing you remembered before the darkness claimed you was the feeling of a rough hand gently brushing your hair back, the touch surprisingly tender.

***

As the days passed, those glimpses began to clear. The man was always there, watching over you, his presence a constant in your fractured reality. You didn’t know who he was, but in your moments of lucidity, you felt a strange connection to him, as if he were a lifeline pulling you back from the brink.

Eventually, the pain started to recede, replaced by a heavy exhaustion that clung to your bones. You were still weak, but the moments of consciousness grew longer, and the world around you began to make more sense. You could hear conversations now, snippets of words that pieced together a picture of where you were and what had happened.

"... found her just in time," someone said.

"She’s a fighter," another voice replied, filled with a warmth that made your chest tighten.

You opened your eyes fully for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and the man’s face came into focus. He was sitting beside your bed, his expression a mixture of relief and weariness.

"Hey there," he said softly, his voice gentle. "You’re safe now. You’re in Jackson."

You tried to speak, but your voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Who...?"

"My name’s Joel," he replied. "I found you out there. Brought you back here to get some help. You’re gonna be okay."

You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting shut again. You were still exhausted, your body demanding more rest. But for the first time since the attack, you felt a flicker of hope. You were safe, and someone was looking out for you.

And as you slipped back into sleep, you held onto that thought, letting it anchor you against the darkness.

***

The faces of Tommy, Maria, and Ellie became familiar presences around you. Each time you woke, they were there, offering quiet reassurances and gentle smiles that helped ease the lingering fear in your chest. They treated you with a kindness that felt foreign yet comforting, their presence a stark contrast to the violence and chaos you vaguely remembered.

Tommy, with his calm demeanor and steady voice, sat by your bedside, occasionally sharing stories about life in Jackson and cracking jokes that brought fleeting smiles to your lips. Maria, whose warmth and strength seemed to radiate from her, checked on you with a motherly concern, ensuring you had everything you needed. And Ellie, vibrant and spirited, chattered away about books, movies, and the world beyond Jackson, her enthusiasm infectious.

Their support made you feel less like an outsider and more like a welcomed part of their community. They didn’t pry into your past or demand answers to questions you weren’t ready to answer. Instead, they simply offered their friendship and a sense of belonging that you hadn’t realized you were searching for.

One afternoon, as you were well enough to sit up in bed, Joel walked in carrying a stack of books he found in the makeshift library of Jackson. He placed the books on the bedside table and offered you a small, reassuring smile.

"Thought you might like these," he said, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of concern. "Heard you were into movies and books."

You nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Joel. It means a lot."

He nodded in return, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Just wanted to make sure you were comfortable while you were healin’."

You appreciated his care, sensing there was more behind his actions than mere kindness. But before you could dwell on it further, Joel began to explain what happened, piecing together the fragments of your memory with the events he witnessed.

"You were out there, near the outskirts," Joel began, his voice steady. "A group of raiders attacked you. They... they were about to... but I showed up just in time."

You swallowed hard, the pieces starting to fit together in your mind. The shouts, the gunfire, the overwhelming sense of fear—all of it began to make sense now, though the details were still murky.

"You saved my life," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his actions settled heavily on your shoulders, mixing gratitude with a profound sense of vulnerability.

Joel shook his head, a hint of discomfort crossing his features. "Just did what anyone would have done."

But you knew better. Not everyone would have risked their own safety to intervene, especially in a world where survival often meant turning a blind eye. Joel chose differently, and his decision brought you here, to safety and healing.

As Joel stood there, his presence a reassuring anchor in the storm of your thoughts, you felt a surge of gratitude and something else—a growing connection that went beyond words. It was as if fate had brought you together, intertwining your lives in ways neither of you fully understood.

***

Slowly regaining strength each day, Joel’s visits became a steady rhythm in your recovery. It started with small gestures—him checking in on you, bringing fresh bandages or a cup of tea. But it was the mornings that stood out the most.

Every morning without fail, Joel arrived with a small bouquet of wildflowers he had gathered from the outskirts of Jackson. He placed them in a makeshift vase by the window, the delicate blooms adding a splash of color to the sterile hospital room. The gesture was simple yet meaningful, a reminder of life and beauty amidst the harshness of your world.

You watched him silently as he arranged the flowers with care, his hands gentle yet purposeful. There was a quiet intensity about him in those moments, a vulnerability he rarely showed to others. And as he turned to you with a soft smile, you felt a flutter of something deeper than gratitude—an unspoken connection that grew stronger with each passing day.

You began to talk more during his visits, sharing stories and snippets of your pasts. Joel spoke sparingly about Sarah, his daughter, and the pain of losing her. You listened attentively, offering words of comfort when the memories threatened to overwhelm him. In turn, you shared glimpses of your own life before the outbreak—memories of family, friends, and a world that now seemed like a distant dream.

Your conversations flowed easily, punctuated by moments of shared laughter and quiet understanding. There was a comfort in Joel’s presence, a familiarity that eased the ache of loneliness you had carried for so long. And in those stolen moments between nurse visits and medical checks, you began to see Joel not just as a protector, but as someone who had quietly slipped into the spaces of your heart.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast a golden glow across the room, Joel lingered by your bedside longer than usual. The air between you seemed charged with unspoken words, a tension that crackled beneath the surface.

"You know," Joel began, his voice low and rough with emotion, "I’ve never been one for… for flowers."

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile. "I’ve noticed," you replied softly, your heart beating a little faster in your chest.

"Guess I’m makin’ an exception for you."

The admission hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You reached out tentatively, placing your hand over his where it rested on the edge of the bed. His fingers curled around yours, warm and solid, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"I’m glad you did," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. "Me too."

In that moment, the distance between you dissolved, replaced by an undeniable pull that drew you closer together. It was as if you had been circling each other, hesitating on the edge of something profound. And now, with your hands intertwined and your hearts laid bare, there was no turning back.

***

One evening, as you sat together in the fading light, Joel’s hand found yours once more. His touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest, and found him already looking at you with an intensity that stole your breath away.

"Joel," you whispered, the word a prayer on your lips.

He didn’t speak, but his eyes held yours captive, searching for any hesitation or doubt. And when he leaned in, closing the distance between you, you thought the world would finally fall away, leaving only the warmth of his lips.

But what you expected never happened. Instead, he stilled, his eyes dropping to your lips and then back to meet your eyes over and over. He pulled away, swallowed thickly, and got up from his seat. He left without saying another word.

But, through it all, Joel continued to bring you flowers every morning—a silent reminder of the love and hope that had blossomed between you amidst the ruins of your world.

***

Several months passed in Jackson, and with each day of recovery, you found yourself drawn more deeply into the rhythm of life within the fortified walls. The once unfamiliar faces of Tommy, Maria, Ellie, and Joel became your steadfast companions, their presence weaving a tapestry of belonging that you hadn't felt since before the outbreak.

As you regained your strength, you sought out ways to contribute to the community that had welcomed you with open arms. It was during one of Joel's visits that he suggested you spend time at the local library, knowing your love for books and movies from your earlier conversations. The idea resonated deeply with you, igniting a spark of excitement and purpose.

The library itself was a refuge—a haven of knowledge and imagination nestled within the sturdy walls of Jackson. Its shelves were lined with dusty books of every genre imaginable, their spines worn and weathered from years of use. The air was infused with the comforting scent of paper and ink, a familiar aroma that brought back memories of lazy afternoons spent lost in fictional worlds.

Occasionally, patrons would wander in, seeking recommendations or browsing the latest arrivals. You greeted them warmly, offering assistance with finding books or answering questions about library programs. Some were regular visitors, their faces becoming familiar over time, while others were newcomers, drawn in by the promise of a quiet corner and a good book.

During breaks, you would steal moments for yourself—a cup of tea, a brief pause to admire the view from the library windows. The town of Jackson spread out before you, a patchwork of rooftops and winding streets, framed by the majestic peaks of the surrounding mountains.

Joel's visits were a highlight of your day, his footsteps echoing softly on the library floor as he approached. Sometimes, he would linger near the front desk, watching you with a quiet intensity that sent a flutter of warmth through you. Other times, he would join you in the stacks, his presence a steady comfort as you exchanged snippets of conversation between the rows of books.

As you meticulously arranged a display of newly arrived mystery novels near the entrance of the library, the familiar sound of footsteps approached from behind you. You turned to see Joel entering with Ellie at his side, their presence instantly brightening the quiet atmosphere of the library.

"Hey," Joel greeted with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made your heart skip a beat. "How's the day treatin’ you?"

You returned his smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his presence. "It's going well. Just getting things in order here."

Ellie darted off towards the fiction section, her eyes scanning the shelves with eager anticipation. "I'm looking for that new sci-fi book Tommy mentioned," she called back over her shoulder, her voice echoing softly through the library.

Joel chuckled fondly, his gaze lingering on Ellie for a moment before returning to you. "She's been itchin’ to read that one for weeks now."

"She's got great taste."

Joel moved closer, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. "You know, Ellie's been talking about you," he admitted, his voice low and intimate. "Says you've been a lifesaver with those book recommendations."

"Well, I'm glad I could help."

"You do more than just help, you know."

Before you could say anything his gaze, usually steady and composed, softened as he noticed the small cut on your wrist. Without a word, he gently took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin.

You held your breath, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you at his proximity. His fingers traced the delicate line of the cut, his touch gentle yet firm as he inspected it. "What happened?" he asked quietly, concern etched in the lines of his face.

You swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "I... I got a splinter earlier," you managed to explain, your words coming out in a breathless rush. "It's nothing, really. I took it out, but..."

Ignoring you, he continued to examine your palm, his brow furrowed in concentration. His thumb brushed lightly over the area where you had removed the splinter, and then he paused, his expression changing subtly.

"There's still a small piece in there."

"I thought I got it all out," you admitted, a hint of frustration coloring your tone.

Joel met your eyes, his gaze steady and reassuring. "It happens," he murmured, his focus shifting back to your hand. "Let me take care of it."

With practiced ease, Joel reached into his pocket and withdrew a small pair of tweezers. He positioned himself beside you, his touch careful and precise as he gently extracted the remaining splinter from your palm. You held your breath, watching as Joel worked with steady hands and unwavering focus. The sensation was more comforting than painful.

"There," Joel said softly, finally withdrawing the tweezers and inspecting his handiwork. "All done."

You exhaled a sigh of relief, "Thank you," you murmured.

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Anytime," he replied quietly, his voice rough with unspoken emotions.

Then, without a word, he leaned in and pressed his warm lips against the throbbing patch of skin. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart beating a mile per minute. It didn’t last. It felt like a drizzle of rain, leaving your skin as soon as it touched it. He let go of your hand and took a quick step back, he looked remorseful like he regretted his action almost immediately.

His look made you feel guilty. Your heart aching even though you knew you’d done nothing wrong.

***

In the weeks and months that followed, you and Joel found yourselves drawn closer together, your bond deepening with each shared moment and whispered conversation. The library remained a sanctuary where your friendship blossomed amidst the pages of beloved stories and the quiet hum of everyday life in Jackson.

With Joel heading out on patrol, the library felt unusually quiet that day. Ellie had arrived earlier, her energy and curiosity filling the space as she browsed through the shelves with a voracious appetite for new stories.

You greeted her with a warm smile as she approached the front desk, her arms already filled with a diverse stack of books ranging from graphic novels to classic literature.

"Hey, Ellie," you greeted cheerfully, taking note of her eclectic choices. "Finding everything okay?"

"Definitely! You've got so many cool books here," she exclaimed, carefully setting down her stack on the counter. "Mind if I borrow these?"

"Of course not," you replied with a chuckle, scanning the books one by one and checking them out for her. "I'm glad you're enjoying the selection. Anything specific you're in the mood for?"

As Ellie launched into animated descriptions of her favorite genres and characters, you found yourself drawn into her infectious enthusiasm. You bonded over shared interests—sci-fi novels that explored distant galaxies, fantasy epics filled with magic and adventure, and even a few graphic novels that blurred the lines between reality and imagination.

In between discussions about your favorite books, Ellie shared stories of her experiences growing up in the post-outbreak world. You reciprocated by opening up about your own journey—memories of a life before the outbreak, your love for books and movies, and the challenges of finding a new sense of normalcy in Jackson.

The hours slipped by unnoticed as you lost yourselves in conversation and exploration, your laughter echoing through the library aisles. It was easy to forget the outside world for a while, immersed in the camaraderie and shared passion for storytelling that bound you together.

As the afternoon sun began to cast long shadows through the library windows, Ellie glanced at the clock with a playful grin. "I should probably head back before Joel starts worrying," she teased, gathering up her books and preparing to leave.

You nodded in understanding, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed between you in Joel's absence. "Thanks for keeping me company, Ellie," you said sincerely, touched by her presence and the genuine connection you had forged.

Ellie flashed you a bright smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Anytime, Ash," she replied, using Joel's nickname for you with a knowing glint in her eye. "You're pretty cool, you know?"

Before you could respond, she was already halfway out the door, her laughter trailing behind her. You watched her go with a fond smile, feeling a warmth in your heart that lingered long after she had gone.

In that quiet moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of books and stories, you reflected on the unexpected friendships that had blossomed in the wake of devastation. Joel's departure had brought you and Ellie closer together, reminding you once again of the resilience and strength that could be found in the bonds you forged and the stories you shared.

***

You lay on your bed, the soft sheets cradling your body as you closed your eyes. Your mind wandered to him, your crush, Joel. The mere thought of his name sent a shiver down your spine and a warm sensation between your legs.

You couldn't help but imagine his hands on you, his gentle touch igniting a fire within you. You pictured him hovering over you, his lips inches away from yours, his breath hot against your skin. Your fingers instinctively began to trail down your body, following the curves and dips, imagining it was his hands exploring every inch of you.

The thought of his strong, calloused hands caressing your skin made you shiver. You remembered the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the depth in them that always seemed to draw you in. You could almost feel the weight of his gaze, intense and burning, as he looked at you with a desire that mirrored your own.

As your hand found its way between your thighs, you could almost feel his touch. Your body responded eagerly, your hips arching off the bed. You let out a soft gasp, imagining it was Joel's name tumbling from your lips. The fantasy deepened, and you could see his face more clearly now, his features etched in your mind with perfect clarity.

Your mind played out various scenarios, each one more intense and intimate than the last. You imagined him leaning in to kiss you, his lips soft and insistent against yours. The kiss deepened, his tongue exploring your mouth with a slow, tantalizing rhythm that left you breathless. His hands were everywhere, tracing patterns on your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

You pictured his lips on your neck, his soft whispers in your ear, his strong arms holding you close. His voice was low and husky, filled with a need that matched your own. He told you how much he wanted you, how he couldn't stop thinking about you, and every word sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

The pleasure built and built, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You imagined him whispering your name, his breath hot against your ear, his hands guiding you, teasing you, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy.

As you reached your peak, you allowed yourself to fully indulge in the fantasy of Joel. Every touch, every kiss, every whisper, it was all in your head but it felt so real. You could almost hear his voice, feel the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of him pressing down on you, grounding you in the moment.

The waves of pleasure crashed over you, and you cried out, your body trembling with the force of your release. For a few blissful moments, everything else faded away, and it was just you and Joel, lost in the throes of passion.

And as you came down from the high, you couldn’t help but wish that it was more than just a fantasy. That one day, Joel would make all your desires and daydreams a reality. You imagined the two of you together, sharing moments of intimacy and connection, building a relationship that went beyond your wildest dreams.

But for now, you settled for this moment of sensual bliss, enjoying every second of it. You lay there, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, your mind filled with thoughts of Joel. You let yourself linger in the fantasy a little longer, savoring the feeling of being close to him, even if it was just in your imagination. And as you drifted off to sleep, you carried the hope that one day, your fantasies would become a reality.

Feeling sticky and aching, you slowly peeled yourself off the bed and headed for a quick shower. The cool water cascaded over your skin, washing away the remnants of your fantasy and providing a refreshing contrast to the heat that had consumed you moments ago. As the water soothed your body, your mind remained restless, thoughts of Joel still swirling in your head.

You felt a bittersweet twinge in your chest as you thought about him. The warmth and intensity of your fantasies clashed with the cold reality that nothing would ever happen between you and Joel. Despite how often he was around, how his presence always seemed to light up the room, he never took that next step. He never crossed the line from friendship into something more.

You replayed your interactions with him, searching for signs, any indication that he might feel the same way. There were moments that made your heart flutter—a lingering glance, a touch that felt too intimate to be merely friendly, words that seemed to carry a hidden meaning. But just as quickly, doubts crept in, and you reminded yourself that it was probably just your wishful thinking, seeing what you wanted to see.

The ache in your heart deepened as you accepted this reality. You knew that despite your longing, Joel remained just out of reach, a constant presence in your life but never quite yours. The shower water mingled with your tears as you silently mourned the unfulfilled dreams and desires that seemed destined to remain in your imagination.

As you stepped out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel, feeling the softness against your skin. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the melancholy that had settled over you. You reminded yourself that life went on, and you couldn’t stay lost in your fantasies forever.

Instead of getting dressed, you find yourself drawn back to your bed. The sheets were cool now, a stark contrast to the heat of your earlier thoughts. You climbed back in, pulling the covers around you, seeking comfort in their familiar embrace.

Your mind drifted back to Joel, to his warm brown eyes that always seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words. You pictured his smile, the way it lit up his entire face, and the sound of his laugh, so genuine and infectious. You couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have him here with you, to feel his arms around you, to share these quiet moments together.

You lay there, your heart heavy with longing, and allowed yourself to imagine just a little longer. Even though you knew it was just a fantasy, it brought a small measure of comfort. His presence in your thoughts was a bittersweet solace, a reminder of what you yearned for but also what you could not have.

Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, and you let the thoughts of Joel lull you into a dream-filled sleep. You knew that reality awaited you when you woke, but for now, you let yourself drift, holding onto the image of his warm brown eyes and the hope that one day, you would find the love you deserved.

***

Joel sat on his horse, patrolling the outskirts of Jackson with a heavy heart. The familiar landscape, with its rugged terrain and dense forests, usually offered a sense of solace and routine. Today, however, his thoughts were far from the patrol at hand. They kept drifting back to the library, to the warmth of her smile and the depth of her eyes.

He'd felt an inexplicable pull towards her since the moment he found her. Her tenacity and spirit had captivated him. She fought like hell to survive, just like he had so many times before. It was more than just attraction—it was a connection he didn't fully understand and certainly didn't know how to handle.

"Get your head in the game, Joel," he muttered to himself, trying to shake off the distraction. But the more he tried to focus on the patrol, the more his mind wandered back to her. He remembered how her breath had caught when he held her hand to inspect her cut. There was something about her that drew him in, despite every instinct telling him to keep his distance.

Back in Jackson, she was sucesfully becoming a part of the community. Tommy and Maria had taken to her quickly. Tommy often spoke highly of her, appreciating her wit and the way she didn't suffer fools. Maria admired her resilience and found in her a kindred spirit. Ellie was perhaps the closest to her, their shared love for books and movies creating a bond that seemed to grow stronger by the day.

Joel watched from the sidelines, a mix of pride and something else he couldn't quite name filling his chest. Seeing her interact with Tommy and Maria, laughing at Ellie's jokes, and bringing a new light to the community was both heartwarming and painful. He wanted to be closer to her, to let down his guard and allow himself to feel. But the fear of loss, the weight of his past, kept him from stepping into the light she offered.

One evening, Joel found himself standing outside the library, watching through the window as she and Ellie animatedly discussed a book. Her laughter rang out, clear and joyous, and it struck him deeply. He turned away, the internal struggle gnawing at him. He wanted to protect her, to be there for her, but he didn't think he deserved that kind of happiness.

Every interaction was charged with a mix of emotions—hope, fear, desire, and self-doubt. When he brought her fresh flowers each morning, her eyes would light up with a gratitude that made his heartache. Yet, he always found an excuse to leave quickly, afraid that lingering too long would reveal too much.

They found themselves alone in the library more often than not. She would be shelving books, and he would walk in, their eyes meeting across the room. Words felt inadequate, and yet the silence between them spoke volumes. She began to notice his frequent visits, the way he seemed to hover just on the edge of their interactions, always present but never fully engaging.

One afternoon, Joel found her struggling with a particularly heavy stack of books. Without thinking, he moved to help, their hands brushing as they both reached for the top book. The contact sent a jolt through him, and he saw the same spark in her eyes. She bit her lip, a small, nervous habit he'd come to recognize, and his resolve wavered.

"You don't have to do this alone," he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for answers he wasn't ready to give.

"Neither do you," she replied, her voice equally soft but filled with a strength that shook him.

They stood there, the library fading into the background as the weight of their unspoken words hung between them. Joel's heart pounded in his chest, the magnetic pull towards her stronger than ever. He wanted to reach out, to close the distance and let her in, but the fear of losing her, of not being enough, held him back.

Finally, he stepped away, the moment broken by his retreat. She watched him go, a mix of sadness and understanding in her eyes. Joel walked out of the library, the internal battle raging on. He didn't know how long he could keep this up, but for now, he would protect her the only way he knew how—by keeping his distance, even if it tore him apart inside.

***

The library was your sanctuary, a place where you could lose yourself in the comforting embrace of books and the soothing rhythm of routine. You were deep in thought, rearranging a shelf of classic novels when you heard the door creak open. Turning, you saw Ellie standing there, her usual bright energy replaced by a troubled expression.

"Hey, Ellie," you greeted her warmly, trying to read her mood. "What's up?"

Ellie hesitated at the entrance, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She looked around the empty library as if making sure you were alone. "Hey, Ash," she said softly, her voice lacking its usual spark. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," you replied, setting the book you were holding aside and walking over to her. "What's on your mind?"

Ellie bit her lip, her eyes downcast. "It's... kind of personal," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your heart going out to her. "Let's sit down," you suggested, guiding her to a cozy corner of the library where a couple of armchairs were nestled by a large window. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the room, creating a safe, intimate space for your conversation.

You settled into the chairs, and you waited patiently, giving Ellie the time she needed to gather her thoughts. She looked at her hands, her fingers nervously tracing patterns on the armrest.

"I've been feeling really confused lately," Ellie began. "There's this girl... Dina. She's amazing. Funny, smart, and just... so cool. I think I have a crush on her."

"Dina sounds wonderful," you said encouragingly. "It's okay to have feelings for someone."

Ellie looked up at you, her eyes filled with uncertainty. "But... it's more than that. I think... I know I'm not into guys. I like girls. And it scares me. I don't know how people will react, especially Joel."

Her vulnerability tugged at your heartstrings. You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on hers. "Ellie, thank you for sharing this with me," you said softly. "It's a big step, and I want you to know that it's perfectly okay to feel the way you do."

Ellie swallowed hard, her eyes searching yours for any hint of judgment. "You really think so?" she asked, her voice fragile.

"I know so," you replied firmly. "And you're not alone in this. I'm bisexual."

Ellie's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

You nodded, offering her a comforting smile. "Yes. I've been where you are, feeling scared and unsure. But the important thing to remember is that your feelings are valid. Who you love doesn't define your worth; it's just a part of who you are."

Ellie took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the floor as if the words she was about to say were too heavy to lift. "I'm really scared to tell Joel," she confessed, her voice trembling. "What if he doesn't accept me? What if he thinks less of me?"

You leaned forward, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Ellie, I know Joel can be a bit... gruff and guarded, but he cares about you more than anything. You mean the world to him. He's been through a lot, and he's seen more than most. If there's one thing I know about Joel, it's that he values the people he loves for who they are."

Ellie's eyes flicked up to meet yours, a glimmer of hope in their depths. "You really think so?"

"I know so," you said with conviction. "I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he worries about you. He might have his rough edges, but his heart is in the right place. And if you need someone to be there with you when you tell him, I'll be right by your side."

Ellie bit her lip, her expression softening as she considered your words. "It's just... he's been like a father to me. I don't want to disappoint him."

"You won't," you assured her. "Joel loves you unconditionally. He might be surprised at first, but that won't change how much he cares about you. He'll want you to be happy, and being true to yourself is a big part of that."

Ellie nodded slowly, the fear in her eyes giving way to a cautious optimism. "I hope you're right. I just don't want to lose him."

"You won't lose him," you repeated gently. "Joel's been through too much to let something like this come between you. He'll need time to process, but he'll come around. And remember, you have a whole community here who supports you, including me."

"Thanks, Ash. It means a lot to hear that."

"Anytime, Ellie," you said, giving her a reassuring smile. "You're not alone in this. We'll face it together."

Ellie took a deep breath, nodding as if steeling herself for the conversation ahead. "Okay. I'll tell him. But... can you really be there with me when I do?"

"Of course," you replied without hesitation. "I'll be right there with you, every step of the way."

You sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of the conversation settling between you. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the library. It felt like a moment of quiet reflection, a brief respite before the next step in Ellie's journey.

Finally, Ellie broke the silence, her voice stronger and more determined. "I've got to tell Dina too. I think she might feel the same way, but I've been too scared to say anything."

You smiled, proud of her courage. "That's a good idea. Being honest with her will help you both figure out where you stand."

Ellie nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, I think so too. Thanks, Ash. For everything."

"You're welcome," you said warmly. "Remember, I'm always here if you need to talk or just need a friend."

Ellie stood up, her shoulders a little straighter than before. "I'll see you later, Ash. And... thanks again."

As she walked out of the library, you watched her go with a sense of pride and hope. Ellie was on the brink of a significant moment in her life, and you were honored to be a part of it. The bond you had forged in that quiet corner of the library was a testament to the power of empathy, understanding, and unconditional support.

And as you returned to your work, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. Helping Ellie find her way was just the beginning. In a world filled with uncertainty and hardship, moments like these remind you of the strength and resilience that lay within each of us. You were not alone, and together, you could face whatever challenges came your way.

***

You were on patrol, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows through the dense forest as you walked. The air was crisp, the smell of pine and earth strong around you. Normally, you would have found the setting peaceful, but today there was an uncomfortable silence hanging between Joel and you. No matter how hard you tried to make conversation, he remained stoically quiet, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a focused intensity.

"So, Joel," you started for what felt like the tenth time, trying to break through the barrier of silence. "How's Ellie doing with all those books she borrowed? She mentioned she really liked the one about the ancient Greek heroes."

Joel grunted in response, his gaze never leaving the path ahead. "She liked it," he said shortly.

You bit your lip, feeling the awkwardness grow. It wasn't like Joel to be this distant, especially after everything you had been through. You wondered if something had happened, if he was angry or upset with you. You tried again, your voice a bit more tentative this time. "I hope she's doing okay. She's really taken a liking to the library."

"She's fine," Joel replied, his tone clipped.

A heavy silence fell over you once more. You could hear the crunch of leaves beneath your boots, the distant chirping of birds, and the occasional rustle of a small animal scurrying through the underbrush. It was a stark contrast to the usual camaraderie you shared, and it was unsettling.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You stopped walking, forcing Joel to stop as well. "Joel, what's going on?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt. "You've been quiet all day, and it's making me feel like I did something wrong."

Joel turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, just stared at you with those intense, deep-set eyes. Then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of frustration. "It's not you," he finally said, his voice softer. "It's me. I've got a lot on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked, taking a step closer to him.

He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. "It's complicated," he muttered. "I just... I don't want to mess things up."

You frowned, not understanding. "Mess what up? Joel, you've been a good friend to me. If there's something bothering you, you can tell me. Maybe I can help."

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with turmoil that took your breath away. "That's just it," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't know how to handle what I'm feelin’. I've been trying to keep my distance because I don't want to hurt you. But seein’ you, bein’ near you... it's drivin’ me crazy."

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sank in. "Joel," you whispered, taking another step closer until you were almost touching. "You don't have to protect me from yourself. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

He shook his head again, more forcefully this time. "You don't understand, Ash. I've done things, terrible things. I don't deserve... this. You. I don't deserve you."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Joel, we all have our pasts. We all have things we're not proud of. But that doesn't mean we don't deserve happiness, or love. You've been there for me when I needed it most. Let me be there for you."

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and longing. "I want to believe that," he said quietly. "I really do."

"Then believe it," you urged, your voice soft but insistent. "We can take it one step at a time. You don't have to face everything alone."

For a long moment, Joel didn't move. Then, slowly, he reached up and covered your hand with his, his grip strong and reassuring. You stood there, the forest around you silent and still, a world away from the chaos and danger that usually surrounded you. At that moment, it was just the two of you, facing your fears and uncertainties together. He didn’t say a word, then, slowly, he let you go and pressed forward.

The atmosphere between Joel and you remained tense as you continued your patrol. The silence was thick, each step through the forest feeling heavier than the last. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, circling around the complexities of your unspoken emotions. You couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be embraced by him, to feel his strong arms around you, offering comfort and security.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t see the tree root protruding from the ground. Your foot caught on it, and before you knew it, you were falling. You landed hard, a sharp pain shooting through your arm as you scraped it against a jagged rock.

"Damn it," you muttered, wincing as you cradled your arm. Blood seeped from a cut just below your elbow, the wound stinging in the cool air.

Joel was at your side in an instant, his expression shifting from distant to concerned. "You alright?" he asked, his voice gruff but laced with worry.

"I'm fine," you snapped, though your voice was tight with pain. "Just a cut."

Joel ignored your words, gently taking your arm to inspect the wound. His touch was surprisingly tender, and despite the pain, you felt a shiver run down your spine. His brow furrowed as he examined the cut, his fingers carefully avoiding the worst of it.

"We need to clean this up," he said, his voice authoritative. "You got any water left?"

"Don't," you interrupted, pulling your arm away from him and trying to push him back. "Why do you even care? You've been distant all day."

Joel looked taken aback, his hand frozen in mid-air. "I'm just tryin’ to help."

"Yeah, well, it’s a little too late for that," you muttered, your back against a tree as you tried to compose yourself. The pain in your arm was nothing compared to the frustration bubbling inside you.

Joel knelt in front of you, his brows tightly drawn together. "I know I’ve been an ass but. . .”

You looked away, trying to ignore the sting of tears in your eyes. "Whatever. Just go away, Joel. It hurts more when you show softness only to take it away."

For a moment, he didn't move, his gaze searching your face for something. Then, with a sigh, he sat back on his heels, clearly conflicted.

Joel’s hand shot out and caught your wrist as you tried to push him away again. His grip was like iron, firm yet not painful. You struggled against him, frustration mounting, but he didn’t let go. His eyes bored into yours.

"Joel, let go," you demanded, your voice shaky.

He didn't budge, his grip unwavering. "Not until you listen," he said, his tone firm.

You tried to pull away, but it was futile. "Listen to what? More silence?"

His eyes flashed with something you couldn't quite decipher. "Listen to this," he said quietly before leaning in.

You barely had time to register his words before his lips were on yours. The kiss was unexpected, a collision of emotions that took your breath away. You stiffened, caught off guard, but Joel’s hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but securely as his fingers worked the muscles.

For a moment, you were frozen, your mind reeling from the sudden intimacy. Then, slowly, you began to respond, your resistance melting away. The kiss deepened, a raw and desperate exchange of everything you had been holding back. Your free hand found its way to his shoulder, gripping tightly as if anchoring yourself in the storm of emotions.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard. Joel’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn’t know how else to show you how much you mean to me."

You swallowed, your heart pounding. "Joel, you can’t just... kiss me to make everything better," you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

"I know," he replied softly, his grip on your wrist loosening but not releasing you entirely. "But I had to do somethin’. I can’t keep pushin’ you away. Not when I feel this way."

"Then stop pushing me away," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can figure this out together."

Joel nodded, his thumb gently brushing over your wrist. "Together," he agreed, his voice resolute.

Joel's touch shifted from your wrist to the cut on your arm, his movements careful and precise. His fingers traced the edges of the wound, assessing the damage with a quiet intensity that belied his usual stoicism. You watched him closely, feeling the warmth of his hands against your skin, a stark contrast to the coolness of the forest around you.

Using the water from your bottle, Joel cleaned the cut gently, his touch light yet firm. The sting of the water made you flinch, but he continued his ministrations without hesitation. His focus was solely on you, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked to ensure the wound was thoroughly cleansed.

Once satisfied that the wound was clean, Joel reached into his pack and retrieved a small first aid kit. With practiced movements, he carefully applied antiseptic ointment to the cut, his touch gentle despite the efficiency of his actions. You winced again at the sting of the ointment, but Joel's reassuring presence kept you grounded.

Next, he unfolded a sterile bandage from the kit and began to wrap it around your arm, securing it in place with medical tape. His hands moved with a steady rhythm, his focus unwavering as he ensured the bandage was snug but not constricting. Each touch sent a wave of comfort through you, a silent reassurance that he was there, taking care of you.

As he finished securing the bandage, Joel looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of relief and concern. "There," he said softly. "That should do for now."

"Thank you, Joel," you murmured.

He gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before he slowly withdrew, giving you space.

You sat there for a while longer, the forest around you settling into an evening hush. As you made your way back from your patrol, the tension that had gripped both of you seemed to ease with every step. The forest was bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun, casting long shadows on the familiar path to Jackson. Joel walked beside you, his presence a silent comfort.

You stole glances at him from the corner of your eye, unsure of what to say after everything. His hand, rough and calloused from years of survival, brushed against yours as you walked, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. To your surprise, Joel’s fingers interlaced with yours, his grip firm yet gentle, as if afraid you might slip away.

Finally reaching the outskirts of Jackson, you hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Joel slowed his pace slightly, as if sensing your uncertainty. As you approached your house, you turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Joel," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "would you like to come in?"

His gaze met yours, searching for something in the depths of your eyes. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'd like that."

You led him inside, the familiar warmth of home enveloping both of you as you stepped through the door. Joel followed you into the living room, his presence filling the space.

As you settled on the couch, Joel’s hand found yours once more, his touch grounding and reassuring. The weight of everything you had shared that day hung in the air, a fragile bridge between friendship and something more. His thumb brushed against the bandage, the wound still stinging underneath. He leaned closer, lips brushing your temple, you leaned in and as you did, you slowly turned your face, meeting his lips with your own.

He tasted sweet like a gentle summer breeze, that subtle wind that feels like a caress from the sun. You were bolder than him, parting your lips with a greed you thought you didn’t have anymore. He parted his lips with a groan, the deep sound made you tremble. Suddenly you were on top of him, your legs parted over his lap as you placed soft, rushed kisses all across his face. You felt him smile and it made your lips curl up, your heart skipping a beat.

His hips jerked up as he parted away, his breath warm when he spoke, “Your arm, darlin’. . .”

You felt yourself leaning in, wanting more—needing more. Joel’s lips softly brushed against yours, causing electricity to surge through your body. His hand trails up your arm, gently caressing the bandage where he had tended to your wound earlier.

"My arm feels...better now," you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady as Joel’s hand lingers on your skin.

He leans in closer, his lips now only a fraction of an inch away from yours. "Good," he muttered, his voice low and husky. "I'm glad."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, your lips brushed against his. The sensation was electric, igniting a fire within you. You felt the warmth of Joel’s breath against your face as he deepened the kiss, his hand now cupping your cheek tenderly.

Lost in the moment, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It felt like time had stopped and you never wanted this moment to end. As your lips parted, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you breathing heavily.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," Joel said.

"Me too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel leaned in for another kiss, but this time it was slow. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting you, moaning whenever you tease him with a flick of your own.

You felt a rush of excitement as Joel’s hands explored your body, his touch igniting a burning desire within you. You let out a small gasp as he removed your shirt, revealing your now bare chest.

Joel’s eyes roamed over your body, his gaze dark as the bark of the oldest tree in Jackson.

His lips trailed down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you.

“Impatient one, aren’t you?” he rasped. “Gonna have to teach you some patience while we’re at it.”

Without breaking the kiss, Joel’s hands moved to your bra, unclasping it with practiced ease. You felt a rush of excitement and nervousness as he removed it, leaving your chest exposed to him.

He pulls away slightly, now gazing at you in awe. "God, you're beautiful,"

His lips moved down to your breasts, his touch gentle and tender. You gasp as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his other hand cupping your other breast. He twisted one nipple while pampering the other with his tongue, a soft whimper escaped your throat. You eagerly grind your hips down, feeling the hard outline of his cock. Sweat beaded at the curve of your spine, your body was blissfully being burned from the inside out.

You buried your hand in Joel’s hair, the sensations he’s causing you almost overwhelming. As he continued to kiss and caress you, your body responded eagerly, your arousal building with each passing moment.

You moaned softly as Joel moved his hands lower, his fingers expertly teasing and exploring your most sensitive parts. You couldn’t believe how good he made you feel.

“You like that huh?” he muttered. “Can’t wait for me to devour that sweet pussy of yours?”

You feel yourself getting lost in the moment, forgetting about everything else except for the two of you.

“Yes,” you breathed, your chest caving in on itself. “Please, Joel, you have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this.”

“And how long would that be, sweetheart?”

“A damned long time,” you smiled. “Way too long.”

You grabbed Joel’s hand and promptly stood up, leading him to the bedroom. You felt his hand grip yours tighter, letting you know that he was just as eager as you are.

When you entered the room, you turned to face Joel, your eyes locking with his. Without a word, you slowly started to undress him, your hands running over his defined chest and down his softened torso.

Once he’s completely naked, you step back and admire his body, feeling a surge of want course through you.

“You brought me here just to ogle me?” he grinned. “That’s not very polite you know.”

You took a step closer, your hand resting on his chest as you pressed against him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, your bodies pressing closer together in unison. You felt the length of his cock, your hand wrapping around it without second thought. His chest rattled with a groan, cock twitching in your palm. You slowly brought him to the bed, allowing yourself to fall, you pulled him down with you.

You felt his lips trailing down your neck, his tongue leaving a trail of wetness as he moved lower. Your breathing became heavier, your anticipation building with every passing second.

Joel’s mouth found its way to your most sensitive area, his tongue expertly teasing and flicking against your clit. You let out a gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

“Mine,” he groaned, pressing his mouth harder against you. “This pussy is all mine, say it or I’ll stop.”

“Yours,” you replied almost immediately. “Every inch of me is yours, I belong to you, every bit of me.”

He hummed his approval as he sucked your clit between his lips, teeth gently nibbling the sensitive flesh. Your upper body jolted, hands finding the back of his head.

But you’re not content with just lying back and enjoying his touch. You wanted to reciprocate the pleasure, to make him feel just as good as he’s making you feel.

You pushed Joel onto his back and straddled him, your hands roaming over his chest as you kissed him. Your hips grind against his, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through you.

With an innate sense of what he likes, you took him in your hand, stroking him slowly but firmly. You felt him grow harder as precome slid down his throbbing cock, you moved lower, taking him into your mouth.

You used your tongue and lips to pleasure him, feeling him writhe beneath you. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. He tasted bittersweet, cock pulsing against your tongue. Your cunt throbbed as you took him deeper down your throat, he groaned, hips thrusting forward. When you choked, he pulled you off and touched the corner of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

“Later,” he muttered, his eyes dropped down to witness your pouty lips, only to smile when he met your gaze again. “Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to use that smart mouth.”

With that he flipped you over onto your back, his eyes full of need as he positioned himself between your legs. You spread them eagerly, welcoming him into you.

With one swift movement, he slipped inside of you, both of you letting out a moan. He started to move, his hips thrusting against yours in a rhythm that became more and more intense. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you as your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. You felt yourself getting lost, your mind consumed by the pleasure each thrust brings.

Joel’s hands gripped your hips tightly, forcing your hips against him, you feel slick dripping down and staining the sheets. Your entire body writhed against him, your eyes rolling all the way to the back of your skull as his cock stretched you over and over again.

With one final push, you both reached your climax, your bodies trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. You collapsed onto the bed, gasping and panting as you tried to catch your breath.

As you laid there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for this moment. You’ve never felt so connected to someone before, and you know that you want to experience this feeling again and again with Joel by your side.

***

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle warmth across the room where you and Joel lay nestled close together. The quiet morning wrapped around both of you like a comforting blanket. As you stirred awake, you felt Joel's arm around you, his presence steady and reassuring.

"Mornin’," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep but filled with tenderness.

You shifted slightly, turning to face him with a soft smile. "Morning," you replied softly, feeling a rush of warmth at the closeness between you.

Joel brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. "How's your arm feelin’?" he asked, his concern evident.

"It's better," you assured him, leaning into his touch. "Thank you for taking care of me yesterday."

His gaze softened, a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. "Always," he said quietly, his hand resting against yours.

You and Joel lingered in the soft embrace of the morning light, your whispered conversation carrying a weight of unspoken understanding. As you shared your thoughts, a mutual agreement emerged between you—a decision to keep your burgeoning relationship private, shielded from the complexities that often accompanied deeper connections in your fragile world.

"I think it's best if we keep this between us," Joel murmured, his voice low and earnest. "We've both been through enough already."

You nodded. "Yeah, it's just... I don't want anything to jeopardize what we have," you admitted quietly, your fingers tracing patterns on the blanket draped over you both.

Joel's gaze softened, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. "Neither do I," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "But being with you... it feels right."

A swell of warmth filled your chest at his words, a silent reassurance that echoed your own sentiments. Despite the uncertainties that lay ahead, you couldn't deny the growing connection between you, a bond forged through shared experiences and unspoken emotions.

You lingered a while longer in the quiet sanctuary of the morning, each moment steeped in the gentle intimacy of newfound understanding. As the world outside stirred with its own rhythms, you and Joel found solace in the simple promise of each other's company, silently vowing to protect what you had found amidst the uncertainties of your lives.

In that fleeting moment of shared vulnerability, you knew that your decision to keep your relationship a secret was not just a shield against potential complications—it was a testament to the fragile hope that had bloomed between you, a hope that dared to whisper of a future where you could navigate the challenges together, one quiet morning at a time.

***

“On your knees, sweetheart. Now.”

Head completely empty, you did as you were told. The small shed at Tommy and Maria’s place was secluded enough for no one to see either of you. The leaves of a nearby tree blocked the window, the gentle scrapes making you feel safe.

It had been a month since you and Joel started your relationship together. He was a tentative man, both in public and behind closed doors. He would remember what you told him and bring you small gifts from whenever he went on patrol. It warmed your heart and for the first time, you genuinely felt happy.

You leaned into his touch, his palm cupping the side of your cheek. Smiling, you unzipped his pants and took him into your palm. He was hard already, eager to feel the warmth of your tongue on the sensitive skin. You gave the tip a soft kiss, smiling wider as he shuddered. His hand slid to the back of your head. He thrust forward, the length of his cock sliding against your lips. You parted them, tongue flat against the underside of his cock, you took him deep down your throat.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, head thrown back. “Show me how much you want me, darlin’.” You looked up and blinked rapidly. “I bet you're soaked right now. . . With all those people outside havin’ fun, aren’t you ashamed?”

Your stomach bottomed out, excitement growing in your gut. You attempted to make a sound that would convey disagreement, but he only smiled, pushing himself further down.

“Take it,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Take all of it.”

Your eyes widened as he began to fuck your throat with earnest, precome coating your tongue. He was impatient, which was something he rarely was. Maybe it was because of the barbecue outside, or the fact that this was his baby brother’s shed—Whatever it was, you enjoyed it.

You could barely breathe, saliva and spit dripping down the corners of your outstretched mouth. His balls laid heavy against your chin, smacking you every time he snapped his hips forward. Your eyes rolled, tears pricking the sides. You thought you heard him shushing you, a soothing sound, at least, that’s why you assumed he was shushing you. To soothe you. You had missed the fact that your moans had grown obscenely loud despite his cock sliding between your lips—

“Hey Joel, you guys good in—” Both of you stilled at the sound, the creak of the door, the familiar soft voice. Your cunt clenched, slick dripping between your thighs. You so badly wanted to touch yourself, to soothe the pain, but that seemed like an impossible thing to do.

Joel cleared his throat, adam’s apple bobbing as he slowly pulled out his cock. It glistened with spit and precome, the sight of it making you whimper. Your head felt like it was floating, that none of this was really and all you could focus on was the throbbing between your legs.

He prevented you from looking back towards Tommy. He held his hand firm on your neck, massaging it to keep you calm.

“We’ll be out in a second,” he said, voice strained. “Sorry.”

The younger Miller said nothing else, you only realized it was the two of you again when you heard the door closing. Joel let out a deep breath, “So much for keepin’ it a secret,” he muttered. “I won’t be hearin’ the end of it.”

“Sorry,” you said, looking up, eyes teary. “I. . . I didn’t realize I was being so loud.”

He promptly knelt down, holding your face between rough hands, he kissed your forehead and smiled. “Nothin’ to apologize for. I’m the one who got us into this mess, you don’t need to worry about nothin’. It ain’t the first time he caught me indecent. Now, let’s get you home.”

“Okay,” you muttered, heart feeling light and head still feeling dizzy. “Let’s go home.”

***

Joel sat in the dimly lit kitchen of Tommy’s and Maria’s home. The evening shadows danced across the walls, painting the room with muted hues of twilight.Tommy had walked in on them—caught them in a moment of vulnerability and intimacy.

Tommy's initial shock had given way to a steady calm as he sat across from Joel at the small wooden table, the lines of his face etched with doubt. Joel’s hands were clasped tightly in his lap, knuckles white with the strain. He stared at the worn surface of the table, struggling to find the right words.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Joel finally said, his voice rough with emotion. “It just... things got complicated. I know how it looks, Tommy. I know I’ve got no business...”

Tommy held up a hand, cutting him off. His gaze was steady, full of an unspoken empathy. “Joel, I’m not here to judge you,” he said firmly. “You’re my brother. And whatever’s going on between you and Ash, I support it. I’ve seen how she makes you feel. Hell, I’ve seen how you look at her. I want you to be happy.”

Joel’s eyes lifted to meet Tommy’s, a mixture of surprise and relief flickering across his features. “I know I don’t deserve her,” he said quietly, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ve done a lot of bad things, Tommy. I’m not the man I used to be. I don’t know why she’d want anything to do with me.”

Tommy shook his head, his expression one of deep, abiding concern. “Look, Joel, none of us are perfect. We all have our demons. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a little happiness now and then. Ash’s been through her share of shit too. She’s not here because she thinks you’re some perfect hero. She’s here because she sees somethin’ in you that maybe you don’t see yourself.”

Joel’s gaze dropped again, the weight of Tommy’s words sinking in. “I just don’t want to mess it up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid that something’s gonna come along and ruin it.”

Tommy leaned forward, his voice low but firm. “You’re not alone in this, Joel. None of us are. You’ve got to trust that maybe you’re worthy of something good. Maybe you’re worthy of her. And if you’re worried about messin’ things up, then do somethin’ about it. Fight for it. But don’t keep it a secret from everyone who cares about you. It’s not a burden to bear alone.”

Joel nodded, the knot of tension in his chest loosening just a bit. “Thanks, Tommy. I appreciate it. I just... I needed to hear that.”

Tommy clapped Joel on the shoulder, a gesture of solidarity and support. “Anytime. Just remember, if you need anything, if you need to talk, I’m here. For both of you.”

***

In the weeks following the decision to make your relationship with Joel public, you found yourselves navigating a new reality in Jackson. The once familiar streets now felt charged with curiosity and speculation. You walked through the bustling market and communal areas of the town, your hands entwined, openly displaying your affection for each other.

The reactions from the community were varied. Some greeted your union with open arms, offering congratulations and warm smiles. Others were more reserved, their curiosity evident in their glances and whispered conversations. You and Joel faced these moments with a combination of resilience and humor. Your quick wit was particularly effective at easing the discomfort of those around you.

One sunny afternoon, while you were browsing through the market stalls, an elderly woman approached you both with a skeptical look. She raised an eyebrow, peering at you from beneath a wide-brimmed hat. “So, you two are an item now?” she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution.

You turned to face her, a playful smile spreading across your face. “Yep, that’s right. Joel here is my favorite person to argue with,” you said, giving Joel a mischievous look.

Joel smirked, adding, “And she’s the one who keeps me grounded. Can’t have one without the other.”

The woman’s stern expression softened into a smile. “Well, that’s a refreshing way to look at things. Congratulations then,” She patted Joel on the shoulder and ambled away, leaving behind a sense of acceptance.

As your relationship grew, so did the depth of your connection. You and Joel became more attuned to each other’s needs and emotions. Your bond was tested and strengthened through shared experiences and mutual support. Each day brought new challenges, but facing them together made your partnership even more resilient.

One particularly trying day, after a demanding patrol that left Joel physically and emotionally drained, he returned home to find you waiting for him. The sight of you, with a warm meal and an understanding smile, was a balm to his weary spirit.

As you sat down to eat, Joel hesitated before speaking, his voice barely above a whisper. “Today was rough, Ash. I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

Your eyes softened with concern. You reached across the table, your hand covering his. “You’re stronger than you think, Joel. We all have days that test us, but you’re not alone in this. I’m here with you, every step of the way.”

Joel met your gaze, the exhaustion in his eyes slowly giving way to a glimmer of relief. “I don’t know how I’d manage without you,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

You squeezed his hand, your expression resolute. “You don’t have to manage alone. We’ve got each other. That’s what matters.”

Your relationship was not all about serious moments; it was also filled with lightheartedness and affection. Your playful banter and shared humor brought a sense of normalcy and joy into your lives.

One morning, as you prepared breakfast together, the kitchen was filled with the usual clatter of pots and pans. You were juggling two eggs and a fresh stick of butter when, in a moment of clumsiness, you dropped the eggs across the floor. Joel, standing nearby, couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, looks like we’re having eggs for breakfast and a side of floor clean-up,” Joel said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You rolled your eyes, picking up the scattered pieces with a smirk. “I’m just adding a bit of excitement to our otherwise boring mornings. Keeps things interesting, don’t you think?”

Joel leaned against the counter, shaking his head with an amused grin. “You and your ideas of excitement. I guess I should be grateful for the change.”

Later, as the day drew to a close and the sun dipped below the horizon, you and Joel found yourselves on the porch, enjoying the tranquility of the evening. You sat close together, the warmth of your bodies and the fading light creating a cozy atmosphere.

Joel wrapped an arm around you, pulling you gently against him. “You know,” he said quietly, “for all the chaos and challenges, I wouldn’t trade these moments with you for anythin’.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice was soft and content. “Me neither. We’ve built something really special here. It’s worth fighting for, no matter what comes our way.”

As you sat together in the fading light, your bond felt stronger than ever. The shared laughter, mutual support, and tender moments of connection were the foundation of your relationship. In the midst of a world fraught with uncertainty, you and Joel had found a precious refuge in each other, a testament to the enduring power of love, humor, and unwavering support.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #writing commission #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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enhypencores · 2 months

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Ni-ki X Y/N

Genre: Romance/Angst/ Fluff/ Hurt-comfort

Word Count: 4K+

Warning: suggestive, slightly angsty

Synopsis: relentless schedule and physical distance from his girlfriend has already strained his nerves. But when Ni-ki finally reunites with you after a long month, he is met with useless nagging instead of affection, pushing him over the edge. The harsh words he utters in the heat of the moment may cause severe consequences.

where a childish argument sparks up your silent treatment and a clingy—jealous ni-ki will do anything for your forgiveness.

idol niki x culinary student y/n

The room, seemingly more like the inside of a coffin, dwells in darkness and reeks of ancient pizza, boxes scattered on the dust-covered floor as evidence. You can barely walk without stepping against something grimy and viscous trickling down your bare feet as if protesting against your invasion.

It’s not like you want to proceed inside this filthy den where the air is thick with the stench of rotting food but unfortunate for you, you happen to have a boyfriend who lives in this atrocious environment. Your eyes catch the faint light of his small device in the bleak darkness, and you sigh in frustration as you finally manage to make it to his bed after dodging lumps of dirt, food and empty cola bottles.

He’s rolled over on his stomach with his back to you, a Nintendo switch in his grasp as he’s fully immersed in the game, vigorously pressing his thumb on the buttons.

Your heart almost softens at the sight, but you’re soon reminded of your surroundings as you feel the wetness pooling at the edge of his bed. Your fists clench in frustration, and you reach out to grab his blanket, flinging it off.

Brows knitting up, he turns, preparing to spew insults, assuming Jake has returned to steal more of his clothes. His jaw clenches shut, eyes widening in disbelief as he sees beautiful eyes blink down at him. He almost knocks himself off the bed, blinking in a daze. His lips curve up, a familiar warmth grazing his previously scowling expression.

“Baby?” Ni-ki rasps. Contrasting from his sharp gaze, his gentle tone which he only uses to address you, sparks butterflies in your stomach.

He doesn’t notice the scowl contorting your features— maybe too excited about seeing you after a distraught month as he sits up on his knees and yanks you down in his arms. Your chest tingles at the familiar warmth as his scent washes over you.

Despite the absolute disaster of a room, Ni-ki smells of soap and faint cologne, his damp hair brushing against your cheeks as he holds you tight against his chest. You know he only applies hygienic efforts to himself and not his surroundings.

You want to melt into his embrace and cling to his frame, but the surrounding wreckage snaps you out of it. You push at his shoulders, forcing him away to stand upright.

Now, even the darkness doesn’t hide the absolute disappointment written across your features as you stare down at him. “I come to see you, thinking, finally, I’ll spend one free night with my boyfriend watching a movie, but you’re here snacking and playing video games,” you pointedly accuse, your gaze narrowed in anger.

Ni-ki winces, used to your gentle and sweet tone. Uncomfortable, he straightens up, and you hear his scapula release a crack as if crying in relief. Your anger flares up more at the sound.

“Have you hibernated since the tour? Jungwon and Sunoo said they haven’t even seen you in days and they literally live here.” You fold your arms over your chest, aggravated.

Ni-ki breathes harder through his nose as he stands up, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. Yellow streaks gleam in the brown moss of hair, his gaze running over your face in silence. He hasn’t seen you in weeks, and the urge to drown you in hugs and kisses overrides your infuriated words.

“I missed you— come’re.” He tries to tug you close, but you block his embrace, turning away and trudging through the mess to flicker the lights on.

The abrupt flash of fluorescents makes Ni-ki squint, his lips pressing together and jaw tightening. You settle your eyes on Ni-ki.

Dressed in a grey hoodie and sweatpants, he appears incredibly frail and thin, jawline contorting as he watches you with narrowed eyes. You can’t help but grimace as you notice the eye bags weighing down his face.

Your gaze softens. He looks unhealthily thin and pale. Suddenly, you want to cook him his favourite yakitori, rice, miso soup and teriyaki sashimi.

Truthfully, you loved cooking for your boyfriend. Despite being tired after training, you always made sure to feed him since he called it the best Japanese cuisine, sprinkling in a ‘better than my mother but don’t tell her’ which always made you laugh.

As soon as his vision accommodates, he feels his heart stutter. You’re a sight for sore eyes, bangs falling against your fluttering lashes, plump lips downturned, and brows arched pointedly. Even when you’re irritated, you’re the prettiest.

Ni-ki begins to approach you, making sure to steer clear of the cans of energy drinks loitering on the floor.

“Stay where you are,” you huff as your gaze roams the expanse.

Now, you can clearly see the pizza boxes, tissues and ketchup packs scattered on the floor; clothes and baseball caps that should’ve been in the laundry basket ages ago balled up in the corner of his room; PlayStation wires hanging down the television trailing across the centre, looping over the listless cola bottles.

“Ni-ki, this room is a disaster. Clean it up,” you command, your voice firm and unwavering.

His smile falters, fists clenching as he feels fury bubble up his throat.

After getting done with the hectic tour, Enhypen is finally awarded a break from activities— a two-week long break before he is pulled back into long practice sessions which last till night passes into dawn, till his muscles cry out in torment, till his body craves nothing but the softness of your curves. But of course, you had a job— much like him, and despite his desire to get you to himself, he knows you are a social butterfly, and your heart belongs in the culinary world. He hates this capitalist society and despises your company and his own for overworking you both.

Late-night calls and once-a-week encounters are his only getaway from the draining schedule.

But even these once-a-week encounters when he can recharge are now infected with your anger.

“Can’t you at least greet me with a kiss like a nice girlfriend before turning into my mother?” He snaps, glaring daggers as he watches you grab a few of his jackets from the floor to fold.

You roll your eyes, leaning down to pick up more of his clothes, folding them keenly before setting them on the edge of his bedding.

“I’m heading out to cook. Clean this place up,” you ignore his tantrums, speaking firmly before shifting away to leave.

As he watches you turn away, he feels his blood pressure rise, head pounding in disbelief at the sheer audacity of your actions.

You come to him after what seems like forever, and still, your love for him is less than your love for the arts. He’s certain even if you reunited with him after years, you’d prioritise your passions and leave him to master some fucking expensive caviar recipe you learned from a Russian chef in culinary school.

“Y/N, get back here right now,” he speaks through gritted teeth, and you pause in your tracks, taken aback by the sudden bitterness.

Chest heaving, he approaches you, heat pumping through his pale skin, painting his face red.

Closer than ever, he towers over you, making you feel so small. His eyes are narrower, sharp as a blade, cutting through you as he stares down. For a moment, you think he’ll knock you to the ground, but you see him shake his head, waves of fury coursing through his frame.

“Do you ever fucking miss me?” He utters with so much venom that he shakes with the bitterness of it.

You wince. Your lips part in horror. You want to say something, but the words have dissolved on your tongue.

He waits for a moment and then cracks a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes, running fingers through his strands in a frenzy. “Of course, you don’t. Ten days or ten months, why would you care?” He sarcastically rasps. His words reverberate against the walls and slice through you.

Pure rage fuels through your veins, and you edge closer. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I finished up all my training to hurry to you, but I see you holed up in this stinky dorm room playing video games—” You choke up.

“Don’t show up then!” He shrieks with resolution, eyes widening purposefully. He turns away and kicks at the pile of bottles blocking his path, unleashing his wrath on the inanimate objects. “Get out! Leave me to rot in this stinky dorm!”

The room immediately goes eerily silent.

Except Ni-ki hears the shill thumping of a pulse above his ear, indicating an incoming migraine. His body feels like it’ll burst with how tumultuously the anger and frustration bubble inside his blood. He can feel the heat shoot through his arteries and collect at the back of his pupils. Distressed, he shuts his eyes and rubs a hand down his face as the ache begins to pound within his entire head.

And then, the walls mock him, reverberating the words spewed out of his mouth just a second ago. Like someone’s toppled a bucket of ice over his head, his breath hitches with realisation. He whips around, intending to fall to his knees and kiss your feet for forgiveness.

His jaw tightens.

He meets your absence.

In a fit of rage, he didn’t see your face crumble, lips tremble; he didn’t hear the sniffle and shuffling as you walked out— away from him.

He can count the times he’s unleashed his anger upon you on a single hand. Usually, he holds back, knowing that whatever was to come out in a fit of rage was absolute bullshit.

“Don’t show up then!”

“Get out! Leave me to rot in this stinky dorm!”

He groans, fisting his hair in disbelief. How dare he use such words towards you? Ni-ki fumes and curses himself. He begins to frantically pace when he stumbles against the empty boxes and cans piling up. Suddenly, he feels the urge to throw himself off the Han River.

Of fucking course, you’re right.

It looks like a bunch of apes ransacked his room, dirt and clothes scattered with food and soft drinks spilt on the grimy floor. This isn’t liveable. How did he spend weeks cooped up in this nightmare— he’ll never know.

Ni-ki determinedly leans over and collects the clothing items, hanging his jackets on the rack while folding his shirts and jerseys to keep in a neat pile. He grabs a pack of tissues, dampens them from the bathroom sink and uses it to scrub off the dried juices from the floor.

While gathering the pizza boxes and tissues, he discovers Jake’s long-lost tie under his bed. He grabs the vacuum cleaner from his storage closet, plugs it in and runs it over the remaining crumbs and dust. The machine’s groaning only further riles up his migraine, pinching the nerves in torment; however, Ni-ki is determined to make this place spotless— worthy of your presence.

Two heads poke out from behind the door, lured by the blaring sounds of the machine. Sunoo’s eyes widen, and Jake’s jaw drops at the sight.

“Do you see what I see?” Jake whispers, scared the fantasy would shatter if he spoke any louder, staring in a daze, watching as the younger boy lay on his stomach to push the vacuum under the bed till it scraped the other end.

“Nishimura Ri-ki cleaning? I see it,” Sunoo confirms, blinking rapidly.

“Hell, this must be the end of the world,” another surprised voice joins the duo, and Jake and Sunoo look up, confused at the third intrusion. Heeseung stands towering behind Sunoo’s head, peaking inside with wonder.

Ni-ki simply ignores them, extra concerned with scrubbing the place clean to quickly find his way to you. Gradually, the lair becomes a civilised room with breathable air. Ni-ki lights up your favourite vanilla-scented candles and inhales deeply, observing the expanse.

Primarily, his room was pretty sleek with a tenebrous elegancy, grey curtains, light-toned carpet and a chic black couch custom-made from Japan, all chosen to his liking. The side table carries some figurines and a pile of his favourite manga collections. In the second drawer, he likes to store hair ties, skincare products, and plushies so he can convince you to have a sleepover every time you visit. Even his wardrobe lingers with your presence. Once, when Ni-ki caught Jake wearing a hoodie that still smelled of you, he pounced on him and ripped it off the petrified Australian. From then on, Ni-ki forbade any member from touching his things. For extra precaution, he still separated specific items you liked, sparing a section to all his hoodies you wore.

Ni-ki runs a hand over his messy hair, patting down his pants and hoodie for any dust before heading out of his room.

The hallway is now perturbingly empty, and the adjacent doors to his room are shut. Ni-ki hastens inside Sunoo’s room, usually finding you seated and binging shows. Instead, he discovers Sunoo on his PC, watching some romantic anime. He dashes off and checks Jake and Heeseung’s room, but you’re nowhere to be found.

A surge of panic courses through him, thinking you’ve really left. He hastens down the hallway, stopping to check the guest bathroom (also empty) and dashing down the stairs.

As he hurries down the last step, his frantic gaze roams the expanse before pausing at the open kitchen. He freezes, his foot hanging over the previous step. His heart swells with relief.

Thank fuck, you’re exactly where you belong—right before his eyes.

With denim sleeves rolled up and hair clipped in a messy bun, you’re immersed in stirring the pot, looking absolutely ethereal in your element. Ni-ki’s breath stutters as he admires you in your own little world.

When you stepped into a kitchen, no amount of distractions could shift your focus. It was one of the things he loved about you: putting a little of your heart into everything you do. But it was also something he disliked about you. If everything in the world takes a little of your heart, what’s left for him?

He gulps down the burning sensation, reminding himself of his earlier stupidity. He kicked you out of his room.

God, he wants to smack himself so badly.

Carefully, Ni-ki takes calculated steps towards the kitchen. And like he predicts, you don’t notice, too consumed by whatever was in the pan. He sneaks up from behind and stands beside you, purposefully brushing his shoulder with yours to make you wary of his presence.

You freeze and spare him a glance. And then he notices the immediate grimace and frown weighing down your beautiful face. His heart drops further into his stomach as you look away, attending to your recipe.

He nibbles on his lower lip. He suddenly feels nervous. His palms itch, and his chest tightens with discomfort. His gaze lingers on your face, yearning for your attention. He internally begs for you to speak— shout— maybe even curse him out. You don’t do any such thing.

Instead, you wash the rice and toss some diced green vegetables in the pan with chicken bits, stir-frying it together. He leans forward, sniffing the steaming chicken, gulping down the tightness in his throat.

He finds his voice. “Teriyaki stir fry— for me?” He tries to sound optimistic, but his voice is weak with tension. His pretence is crystal clear.

Silence. Pin drop- deafening silence. It’s supposed to be good for his migraine, but your silence just makes the throbbing sensation concentrate even more, so much so that he feels a gruesome pain stir up in his neck.

His frustration mounts as he sees you turn away to wash the dirty dishes in the sink.

The silence begins to kill him. Agitated, he grabs at your shoulders, whirling you in his arms. You gasp as your palms flatten against his chest to steady yourself.

You glance up with wide eyes, and his gaze immediately softens. “Say something,” he urges, browns of his eyes drained with yearning.

His touch on your arms sends pleasurable ripples down your body, but you don’t make it known. Instead, you offer him a cold, obstinate expression, your mouth sealed shut in stubborn rage.

He feels pathetic as you look at him with steely eyes before pushing away and returning to wash the dishes. His gaze narrows in frustration. His fists tighten as a horrifying thought plagues his mind: the thought that you’ll give him the silent treatment till his last day in Korea, and he has to fly out before he gets to fix this.

Just the thought of leaving you makes him lose it.

Distressed, he bites his lip and fists his hair.

Think. Think. Think.

He spots the searing chicken, and suddenly, everything plays out before him. He envisions you coming to him with the food. You’ll have to talk to him when you give him his lunch.

He restrains a smile and waits for you to get done, arms folded over his chest as he leans against the kitchen counter, watching you intently.

Soon, you return to the stove and empty the pan on a clean plate. You scoop the rice from the cooker and serve it with sophisticated chef-like precision. You have a knack for presenting any dish—even something as simple as instant ramen—as if it belongs in a Michelin-star restaurant.

His mouth waters as he stares at the heat simmer. He can already taste the juices in his mouth. And then he patiently waits.

Your gaze roams the living room as you hold up the tray. His bashful smile widens as you approach him.

And then both his smile and heart drop when you walk past him towards the hallway— in the complete opposite fucking direction to his room. His jaw tightens as he rushes behind like a lost puppy, his confusion mounting as he sees you approach another room—Jungwon’s room.

The door is answered immediately as if he had been awaiting your arrival.

Jungwon’s smile widens, shaking the bangs out of his sight, his dimple peaking out charmingly. “I told you this wasn’t necessary, Y/N,” he chimes, but he stares at the scrumptious platter, licking his lips in excitement.

As you walked out of Ni-ki’s dorm, wiping tears from your eyes, you bumped heads with Jungwon, who instantly noticed how upset you appeared. He knew you were the most in your element whenever you cooked, so he brought up how badly he craved your stir fry. And that was all it took for you to work your magic.

God, Ni-ki was so lucky.

If Jungwon had a girlfriend as caring and talented in the kitchen, he’d probably lose his mind and devour everything you cooked like a ravenous beast.

“You said you were hungry, so I thought I’d cook you your favourite.” You give him an adorable smile, handing him the warm tray.

“Thank you, our lovely master chef!” Jungwon compliments, and you giggle softly at the nickname.

The sound makes Ni-ki sick. Your breathtaking smile directed towards someone who isn’t him makes him nauseous. The plate carrying flavours you created for someone else to devour makes him burn with resentment. The food that took so much effort to make intended for another member and not your fucking boyfriend makes Ni-ki violent. He’s never hated the sight of your food before today.

As you walk away, ignoring his presence, he hears a dull ringing in his ear. The bubbling frustration and anger have started to take a toll on his body.

It was questionable how ten hours of practice, sleepless nights and continuous shows didn’t make him this ill. But you have the power to bring him to his knees.

Jungwon notices Ni-ki standing motionless by the wall and meets his eyes with confusion.

Worst fucking mistake ever.

Predatory eyes, murderous—poisoning black holes stare him down. It doesn’t help that Ni-ki’s taller, and Jungwon shrinks, his mouth drying up in voiceless horror. Ni-ki steps forward, and Jungwon gulps, suddenly forgetting that he’s older.

Ni-ki grabs the chicken and stuffs it in his mouth. The threatening glare is enough for Jungwon to shut his mouth before Ni-ki marches away.

When Jungwon recovers, he notices only bits of capsicum and onion with plain rice remain.

Fucking Nishimura Ri-ki downed all the steaming chicken in one bite.

Jungwon withholds a groan and slams his door shut.

Meanwhile, you’re back in the living room, answering a phone call from a friend, fretting over the recent assignment. While you’re explaining it to her, you notice a towering presence behind you, his familiar cologne invading your senses even before you can turn to inspect the intrusion.

You ignore his presence, clarifying the assignment’s nuances. You assume he’ll tire out and leave to his room— the one he kicked you out of— eventually, but your breath gets caught in your throat when he grabs your wrist, jerking you close.

Your words morph into a screech of horror as Ni-ki effortlessly hoists you up on his shoulder. You’re upside down, screaming and throwing a tantrum as the phone escapes your grasp, a shrill scream of defiance leaving your mouth. You try kicking him, but he takes determined steps towards the hallway.

In a frantic haze, you catch sight of Sunoo and Jake standing in their doorway, peering to inspect the commotion. You scream for help, and for a second, you think Sunoo’s about to jump in to save your ass, but as if he’s seen a ghost— he freezes in his tracks. His fearful gaze lingers on Ni-ki, and he edges back inside, offering you nothing but an empathetic smile.

You want to curse the cowards out, but by the time you find your voice, you’re already inside Ni-ki’s room, and he’s locked the door shut. He takes you to his bed, then gently sits you on the bedding.

With your blood boiling, you can’t even meet his eyes. You attempt to reach the door, but he clenches your wrist and pulls you back. Consumed by violent rage, you punch his chest.

He takes it—without even a change to his breathing and remains blocking your path like a wall.

One. Two.

Three. Four.

By the fifth one, your fist hurts. You look up in distress.

Finally. He breathes.

You finally spare him a glance.

He feels the burden on his chest lighten, his tense frame easing as you finally spare him your complete attention— unfavourable attention but better than feeling like the discrete air that passes by.

“Give me any bruise you want, curse me out— I beg you, just don’t do this to me,” he’s stuttering, his voice low and brittle as he tries to suppress his fears.

Whenever Ni-ki sulks, his small eyes go round, and his lips pucker unintentionally. You almost falter at the sight, but his earlier words itch your insides, and you rip your wrist from his grasp in resentment.

“I would rather be anywhere else than in your fucking room.” He winces at the cruel tone, his eyes flashing with hurt as you attempt to walk off. Panic-stricken, he pushes down on your shoulders until you’re dropping onto the sheets.

Immediately, he drops to his knees and grabs your hand, pressing his lips to the back in soft kisses.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers, and you feel his lips quiver against your skin. He trails kisses around until he’s peppering them in your palms.

“I’m a fucking moron— I’m sorry,” he chokes up and presses his entire face inside the warmth of your hands. You feel dampness.

Your heart throbs in torment.

“This is your room before it’s mine,” he mumbles and kisses your palms repeatedly. “You were just being your caring self—helping me get my shit together. I— I missed you so badly this month. I haven’t stopped thinking of you since the day I left,” his voice cracks.

Unknowingly, you’re also crying. You realise when wetness trails down your cheeks, and you tremble as emotions overwhelm you.

You lean down and caress his hair. “I missed you too, Riki.”

He feels a tug in his heart when you call him his real name, his chest suddenly tightening as he recalls just how terribly he missed you. And then how awfully he treated you.

He looks up with watery eyes, hair falling against his vision, and his insides shrivel in defeat. He hates your tears. Realising he’s made you cry over his stupidity, he wants to throw himself off the roof. A burning ache pools within his chest.

He releases a groan, wiping at your tears persistently.

“I’m sorry too,” you cry, and he wishes he could really burn himself alive.

“Why the fuck are you apologising?” His eyes burn with restrained anger.

He wishes you’d scold him and call it a day like any normal fucking girlfriend. But you’re his girl, insanely warm and disgustingly understanding—to him, always.

“I know I should’ve wrapped you in my arms before lashing out about how dirty the room is,” you admit, your lips pressing together with guilt. He’s watching you with confused anger as if he wants to refuse everything that escapes your mouth, but you eagerly complete your words.

“I just hate how badly overworked you are. I hate not seeing you for months. And I hate how you can’t be a normal nineteen-year-old like me. I know you aren’t some careless guy throwing a tantrum. You’re struggling to breathe in this rigorous world of stardom where one slip-up means the end of your career, where you cannot be anything less than perfect.”

As you talk about his struggles, he feels a tighter knot begin to clog his throat. Discomfort ceases his chest, and his eyes burn. His chest heaves with unspent tension.

You sniff and wipe at your cheeks. “And I guess walking into this room reminded me of your struggles. And then, I noticed how thin you’ve become— and wanted to cook you some—”

He gets off his knees, pouncing on top of you, his mouth clashing against yours in a passionate kiss. You tumble back with his body pressing down in desperate urgency.

Your breath is caught in your throat, lips frantically trying to match his intensity. His kiss dries your mouth; it’s so demanding and urgent like he’s getting to breathe air after ages. His tongue invades and intertwines with yours, sucking vehemently on your tongue for your taste. You’re a moaning, panting mess as his hands hold down your waist. He squeezes you in his hold, pushing his tongue deeper into your mouth like a depraved man.

You push at his neck defeatedly once you feel oxygen run out. He groans into your mouth, indicating his displeasure, but relents when your nails dig into his neck, forming painful crescents.

His face hovers over yours, heavy breath lingering against your gasping mouth. Impatiently, he stares into your eyes like he wants to transfer some of his energy and resilience to your body so you can let him kiss you however badly he wants. Magically, even his migraine has started to dispel— and his chest feels lighter. He also wants to smile and laugh like a lunatic and kiss you till your mouth bleeds.

The tension in your frame thickens as he rubs his nose against yours, still eyeing your heaving, flushed frame in yearning.

Warmth colours your cheeks, dried tears blinking along your lashes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He drags his nose against your cheek and drops a noisy kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“But whatever it is, it doesn’t excuse feeding hyung before me.”

You’re confused and ready to argue, but he’s already latched his mouth onto yours, attempting to make up for all the past time. After all, he still needs to put his hands everywhere and remind you of his touch, sulk because you cooked for Jungwon, plead for ramen with tofu to stuff himself full, convince you to sleep over and feed him all night.

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hans-wh0re · 2 months

Text

A.N: this is a drabble that m thinking of expanding as a fic

"Fuck, that's it baby..." Hyunjin rasped out in a low, filthy growl that made you shudder. His scorching gaze raked over your lewd display through the phone's lens - spine in a debauched arch, mouth fallen slack with blissed-out moans as you eagerly speared yourself on his thick length again and again.

The harsh smacking of skin on skin reverberated through the room in tandem with your desperate, cloying whimpers. Each time you ground your asscheeks flush against his pelvis, Hyunjin's cock would split you apart with that soul-shattering *stretch* that had stars bursting behind your screwed-shut eyelids.

"Nnghh...that slutty little cunt just can't get enough, huh?" he rasped out, voice gone rough with lust. "Taking my cock like you were made for it."

Hyunjin shifted positions then, grabbing a fistful of your sweat-damp locks to wrench your head back at a punishing angle. You gurgled out a pitchy whine past your spit-slick lips as he brought the phone up unbearably close, the lens zeroing in on your ruined, slack-jawed expression with sadistic focus.

"Look at you..." he sneered in dark gratification, studying your glazed, vacant features. "Such a desperate cum-hungry slut. Is this what you wanted? To be my personal fuck-puppet while i records just how much of a messy little whore you are?"

Despite his cruel vitriol, you could only keen out a shuddering, mewling whimper of bliss. Lost in a hedonistic vortex of sensation, you mindlessly shoved your hips back to impale yourself in one long, shuddering grind on the punishing density of his cock.

Hyunjin hissed out a harsh breath through gritted teeth at the feeling of your abused, sloppy hole fluttering and clenching around him in spasming milks. That iron-hard length somehow managed to split you open even wider as he surged in with a vicious snap of his hips. Thick ropes of your essence immediately started to dribble free in vulgar gouts, trickling down over your puffy folds to soak the bedsheets beneath you both.

"That's right you little whore..." he growled, nostrils flaring. Using his grip in your hair, Hyunjin pulled your face up and forced you to meet the camera's gaze while he treated you like a twisted little pocket pussy.

"Give the people what they want. Drool all over yourself while i utterly ruins this messy fuckhole..."

He punctuated the threat with a series of harsh, pounding jackhammer thrusts that instantly punched a shrill, gurgling wail past your swollen lips. Drool collected obscenely at the corners of your mouth as your eyes rolled back in delirious rapture - you were completely gone, nerves thrumming from the onslaught of sensation.

Everything became a spiraling vortex of feral rutting, filthy squalor, and erotic bliss. Hyunjin's physique glistened with a sweat-sheened sheen as he plowed into your squelching, convulsing cunt with relentless, animalistic fervor. The room filled with a cacophony of your pitchy howls, his rough grunts, and the lewd wet sounds of your essence being messily reamed.

The camera (and subsequently Hyunjin's burning stare) didn't miss a single degrading second - greedily capturing every graphic detail of your debauched defilement. And still you craved more, grinding back to meet his brutal thrusts with wanton keening whines.

Stars exploded across your vision as Hyunjin buried himself in one last cruel, obliterating grind that had you choking out a ragged, open-mouthed sob. He held you there impaled on the swollen, pulsating crest of his cock as rich, viscous ropes of seed immediately began pumping into your abused, fluttering hole.

"That's it, sweetheart...fucking milk me..." he snarled against the sweaty nape of your neck, voice utterly guttural with possession. "Take every fucking drop like the filthy cumdump you are..."

#skz #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz imagines #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin x reader #stray kids hyunjin smut #hyunjin stray kids #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin skz #hyunjin smut #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #skz hyunjin #skz hyunjin smut #skz hyunjin x reader

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zeeislewd · 8 months

Text

It's well past midnight when you finally bring yourself to climb the stairs to your bedroom, grumbling to yourself as you flip light switches and plunge yourself into abject darkness before going step by step up the creaky old staircase. You can hear the floorboards shift and protest against any weight being put upon them, and you hope against hope the noise of your steps doesn't wake your partner; they certainly deserve the rest.

As you crest the top of the stairs you see a strange shape; where you had expected to see your partner's dimly outlined sleeping form instead you see a dim glow under the covers, little moans and wet noises... A smile spreads across your face and you move closer; you don't have anything to be up for tomorrow morning, why not offer your love a little stress relief?

You pull back the covers and start climbing into bed, leaning down to kiss your partner when you notice the shock on their face, staring at you like they're afraid. At first you're confused, but then you feel something against your leg, damp and warm, and you look down. Whatever you expected to see between their legs, a mass of writhing tentacles slithering out of them, curling around their legs and now reaching up to take hold of you by the waist... That certainly wasn't it. At first you think this might be the cause of their fear, but then they open their mouth and manage to stammer out a few words.

"L-love, I'm so sorry, I- I mean I was planning to tell you soon and- But I-" they keep cutting themself off but you can gather enough context through the shock to realize this is just another facet of your partner, of the love of your life that you hadn't yet learned. A smile creeps onto your lips and before they can stammer out any more apologies you move in for a kiss. Their worry begins to melt away and you feel their arms wrap around you, their tentacles now moving with purpose, given permission to touch you for the first time. You feel the wriggling tendrils wrap around your waist, a few carefully slithering into the waistband of your panties, seeking out your soaked cunt.

The kiss turns into a deep make out, you feel their tongue push at your lips for entry and open your mouth to let it in only to realize it's another tentacle slithering up your lover's throat and into your mouth. Their eyes open to look at you, to keep their gaze locked on you to gauge your reaction as this new tentacle tests how far it can go. At first it only slips an inch into your mouth, then two, then you feel it touch your throat and start easing down. The tentacle is just a little thinner than their tongue, and they've made you take things down your throat before, held you between their thighs to see how long you could last... And it was hard to focus on having your throat fucked when you could also feel a tentacle in your pussy slithering deeper than anything was meant to enter you.

It prodded at your cervix and you felt a jolt of pain, pulling back reflexively, but it was determined to gain entry to your womb, and as soon as it was all the way inside you could feel why; the first egg was pushing against your labia, the bulge in their tentacle stretching you further as it moved up and into you. Another egg followed shortly, then another, and another; a near constant stream of eggs dropping comfortably into your womb until your belly was swollen out and full, so round you looked at least six months pregnant.

The stretching, the weight of your belly, the feeling of just how *full* you are is enough to push you over the edge. Your legs turn to jelly as you cum, letting out a desperate little moan over the tentacle in your mouth. It's clear from your partner's writhing body that they're close, too, and soon you feel the hot sensation of cum flooding down your throat, sticky and viscous all the way down into your belly. Gush after gush, pulse after pulse, the tentacle in your mouth starts to pull back out of your throat, leaving one last load on your tongue before re-entering your partner's lips to hide away once more. The cum tastes salty, but ever so slightly sweet, warm on your tongue...

As you break free from your orgasmic stupor you see an embarrassed grin on your lover's face, their hands up on their mouth to try and hide it but you can see the joy in their eyes. You know exactly what they're thinking and you blush, closing your eyes and rolling off of them to let the weight of your belly rest on the mattress instead of being pressed between you and them. They run a hand over the curve of your belly, the tentacles cradling it gently... You were going to be a mother, and not even remotely how you expected.

#eggpreg #eggs #ovi kink #ovipositor #preggo kink #belly k!nk #tentacles #consentacles #breeding k1nk

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taintandviolent · 26 days

Note

for the smut drabble: remy/reader with #36 please, cuz goddamn that man's hands are definitely nsfw 🥵

warnings: fingering (female receiving), pet names, light praise, writing these at work so possible clunky writing

“Tell ‘da Gambit what you want, cher…”

The sultry tone in his voice demands honesty — none of your shy, vague responses will suffice here. It takes a few moments to muster up the courage and find your voice again, but finally, you straighten up, pulling your mouth away from his warm neck.

“Want your fingers inside me,” you reply, practically whimpering. You rut your hips desperately against his thigh, feeling the growing wet spot as the fabric bunches against your core.

“‘Dat’s a good girl, huh…?” As he speaks, his hand drifts between your legs, and you press your knees into the sofa, giving him some room to work. You’re already reeling from the praise, but the contact makes you mewl with pleasure. He palms your cunt from the outside, rubbing the ball of his hand against her, while his fingers gently graze lower. You know he’s felt the damp fabric, as they hesitate on the wet spot, then begin stroking it gently. The small, seemingly passive action sends a shockwave rippling through your core. You whimper loud, an undeniable, hungry heat pooling between your legs.

With a newfound desperation, you shudder against his touch and roll your hips, bucking her forward and forcing more pressure. He chuckles below you, and with ease, navigates his fingers into the elastic of your panties.

Ample slickness meets the tips of his fingers, having already worked yourself up by riding his thigh for an hour, but when he touches you, your breath hitches in your throat. He plays with your folds, almost curiously, smearing your arousal around the warm, wet flesh. His middle finger flicks between, grazing your puffy clit on the way up. He touches you with agonizing tenderness and it has you clenching your teeth, begging for more.

Suddenly, he’s encircling it with the pad of his finger, working it in small ovals. Your legs shake at the feeling, and you can’t help but let out a keening moan.

His middle finger drops and pushes into your entrance slowly, breaching the dripping slit. He feels the clench of your cunt and sinks another in, stuffing them inside past the knuckle. You’ve fingered yourself many times, but the girth that two of his fingers have on your smaller ones? Astounding. They’re determined, curling up inside you to find the spongy flesh that’ll make you writhe away from him.

He alternates between rubbing your g-spot and hammering them into you, clear arousal stringing from his fingers every time he pulls back. His thumb bumps into your sensitive clit as he moves and whether that’s intentional or not, you don’t know. You assume it is. The effect is dizzying. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder, your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

“You’re so… fucking good with your hands… oh my god…!”

Amidst a chuckle, he says: “Mais oui… dat’s kinda’ my thing, cher.”

If they weren’t already rolling back in your head, you would’ve rolled your eyes at his cockiness, but he’s so good. So good and you find yourself meeting his motions, undulating your hips to push his fingers deeper each time.

The wide pad of his thumb presses into your clit and wiggles back and forth, applying a new sort of pressure that has your cunt fluttering around his fingers. “Oh, ffffuck-“

“Lemme’ hear it.” he barks, his lips close to your ear.

Your mouth opens wide and a shaky, quivering moan tumbles out as you come around his fingers, coating them in viscous fluid. You collapse against his shoulder to the sound of him chuckling heartily, and steady your own breathing. You feel his fingers leave you with a wet sound, and by the way he’s moving his arm, you can tell he’s looking at the glaze that now coats his digits.

“Mon coeur liked ‘dat, huh? Made a big ol’ mess.”

#I stare at that one bts photo where he’s on the stairs and holding the card….. his fingers are so big and long and wowzers #Gambit #Remy Lebeau #Gambit x reader #gambit x you #Remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau x you #Channing Tatum #requests #mydrabbles #questions answered #mutuals #scintie

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zorosdimples · 11 months

Text

pairing ⛧ yandere!diavolo x f!reader x barbatos

warnings ⛧ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. this is a doozy… implied toxic relationships, inhuman anatomy, monsterfucking, breeding, knotting, cervix fucking, dubious consent, pregnancy mention, lots and lots of cum, passing out, neglect (kind of), bondage and restraints, implied nonconsensual acts at the end. reader has a vagina and is referred to as “my little human” and “little one.” please let me know if there is anything i missed!

word count ⛧ 1129

notes ⛧ this is the first installment of the garden of earthly delights! i apologize for the wait; i hope everyone enjoys <3

you have never looked more beautiful—more his—than in this moment, diavolo thinks. the demon prince has one massive hand encircling your ankles, pressing your knees flush to your chest. his other hand cradles the back of your head with adoration, forcing your teary gaze to remain on him, a clawed thumb hooked between your swollen lips. his amber irises are nearly subsumed by his pupils, jet as the moonless night.

black spots cloud your watery vision as you slobber all over the digit, broken whines the only sound to leave your lips; the golden tips of his horns flash in your periphery. you’re on the verge of losing consciousness.

diavolo has been breeding you for hours. his long, thick cock—gilt, ribbed, impossibly large, and complete with a knot—has already stuffed you so full of seed that your stomach is distended. the viscous liquid, a rich cream with an otherworldly sheen, spurts out of your abused cunt with each of his powerful thrusts. the rest of it tingles hotly in your core.

“you can take one more, can’t you, my little human?” diavolo coos, breath unnervingly steady given the force of his movements. he leans down to smear a gentle kiss against your damp hairline before dropping your head and sliding his hand down to rub your puffy clit, plenty slick with the fluids coating your flesh.

“c-can’t,” you whimper. your nerves are fried and the overstimulation has your head pounding and your legs shaking as diavolo’s cock batters your cervix. your hands scratch and scrape at his chest in an attempt to get him to slow, to stop—anything—but your nails do not even pierce the prince’s thick flesh. the demon chuckles at your pathetic protests and his pace quickens in response.

hasn’t he taught you that you are not as fragile as you think?

“you can,” diavolo asserts, pulling out entirely. his crimson strands hang past his forehead and obscure his eyes, the glistering gold almost menacing as he leans over you. he strokes himself lazily, grazing his flared knot with a shiver, ready for his high. ready to see your womb swell with his heir.

“and you will,” he punctuates by plunging his cock and knot inside you in one fluid motion, a guttural groan rumbling from his heaving chest. your mouth stretches to accommodate a scream that never passes your lips. your body is aflame, dripping with sweat; the room fades into nothingness as diavolo’s hot cum pumps into your pulsing cunt.

the room is dusky when you awaken. your lover is gone, his warmth and ever-present touch absent, stillness in his place. the slippery silk sheets cling to you and glide along your curves as you sit upright. you clutch your forehead and curse the dull thump in your skull, a wince breaking the quiet. you feel a trickle of sticky cum ooze from you to join the wet puddle you slept atop like an animal.

the demon prince’s little pet.

a rustling sound draws you from your thoughts. a looming figure swathed in shadow floats toward the bed; you squeak in fright as you yank the sheets up to your neck in an attempt to shield your nude form.

“there you are,” barbatos, who you can now see as he emerges from the darkness, says. “i apologize for disturbing you. i am here on behalf of the young master.”

you breathe a shaky sigh of relief—the demon butler is your only friend in the lonely castle. “you scared me, barbatos. where’s diavolo?”

barbatos turns on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a faint glow. his eyes, emerald in the low light, shine eerily as his gaze meets yours. “the young master had to run to an impromptu meeting, but he did not wish to disturb your rest. thus, i am here to aid you in his stead.”

you furrow your brows. a meeting. you were once a member of the student council, privy to conferences and other social functions—until diavolo’s devotion to you got the better of him. (as a human, you are far safer being completely removed from lesser demons. and there is no one better to care for you than the prince of the devildom himself.)

you suppress your memories. “thank you. i can manage myself.”

instead of bowing and leaving, though, barbatos stands still. his forked tail sways at his feet and his skeletal horns gleam resolutely. after a few moments of deathly silence, you rephrase your dismissal: “i don’t need any help, barbatos. i appreciate you checking on me.”

the demon takes a step closer to the bed, his knees nearly knocking against the frame. “you do not seem to understand me,” barbatos muses, gloved hand delicately resting beneath his chin. if you were less disoriented, you would notice the hint of mirth in his tone. “lord diavolo ordered me to assist you, as he had to leave unexpectedly. i shall honor his wishes.”

the corners of the butler’s lips curl into a faint smirk, but no humor marks his visage. in fact, there seems to be a primal hunger lurking in the dark, verdant depths of barbatos’s irises. fear beams through your body. it starts in the pit of your stomach and spreads its icy tendrils out through your limbs, biting your fingertips. headache forgotten, you now feel faint; your heart skitters like scared prey. unconsciously, you pull the sheets around you tightly, temporarily shielding yourself from the humiliation that is sure to come.

“there is nothing to fear, little one,” barbatos soothes, smoothing a hand over your hair, matted with sweat and his master’s cum. the act is more patronizing than it is comforting.

the demon snaps his fingers and the sheets wrapped around you disappear. you scramble to cover yourself with your hands, but barbatos is infinitely stronger and faster than you are. his forked tail—cold and wet—coils around your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. another snap of his fingers, and your body is bound with invisible restraints. your arms are stretched above your head, almost painfully so. your legs are spread wide and bent at the knee; no matter how hard you try, you can’t move. there’s even a gag in your mouth to muffle your cries and force you to suck oxygen through your nose.

crouching between your open legs, the butler tsks. “oh my, what a mess.” his tail slithers up your leg and settles atop your womb. the slightest pressure from the appendage causes a stream of diavolo’s cum to rush out of your bruised hole. the demon’s snakelike tongue darts out and tastes the semen that is now pooled beneath your ass.

bartabos’s eyes meet yours and he smiles something wicked. “let’s get you cleaned up—shall we?”

#the banner is a detail from hieronymus bosch’s triptych ‘the garden of earthly delights’#dividers are my own!#the garden of earthly delights #kinktober 2023 #obey me smut #barbatos smut #diavolo smut #barbatos x reader #diavolo x reader #obey me x reader #tw dark content #tw dubcon #tw noncon #tw yandere #tw knotting #tw monsterfucking #༄ kae writes

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pin-k-ink · 21 days

Text

distraction ⋆✦⋆ ushijima wakatoshi

tags ➸ mutual masturbation (kinda), creampie, dirty talking, would this count as voyeurism?, daddy kink, unprotected sex but it’s just a flashback, it’s just smut ig ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

wc ➸ 2.7k

a/n ➸ this is just a little drabble to keep yall occupied for a while more

The hotel room door clicked shut behind Ushijima with a dull thud, sealing off the muffled sounds of the bustling hallway beyond. He stood unmoving in the entryway for a suspended moment, simply letting his deep green eyes adjust to the shadows cloaking every surface in a dim navy haze.

Despite the plush carpet muffling each footfall, Ushijima's imposing presence seemed to saturate the very air as he crossed the space to deposit his luggage on the nearby dresser. Even alone, surrounded by stark unfamiliarity, he couldn't shake the innate restlessness buzzing beneath his skin any more than rid himself of the phantom ache blossoming in his broad chest.

You. Everywhere his gaze settled, your delicate essence lingered in wisps of half-formed memory teasing at the corners of Ushijima's senses.

The hint of shampoo and fresh laundry caressing his nostrils as he tugged his duffel open - immediately transporting him back to countless mornings spent nuzzling his face into the fragrant cascade of your bedhead while you grumbled sleepy protests against his chest.

Unable to resist the temptation, Ushijima dragged your favorite well-worn t-shirt free from where it lay bundled amidst the rest of his gear. Immediately, the airy softness brushed his calloused palms in such bittersweet familiarity that a low groan nearly rumbled free.

How many evenings had he spent watching you lounge in this very article while pursing those full lips around some playful jibe or sassing remark aimed to rile him up in the best way? Nearly every inch of cloth had molded itself to every lush curve - twin valleys of cleavage peeking over the neckline as you stretched out languorously, one shapely leg hooked over his thighs so his gaze roamed unchecked over the delicious swell of your ass...

Ushijima sucked in a harsh, shuddering inhale through his flared nostrils as the memories flickered through his mind's eye in searing clarity. Already, he could feel his rapidly swelling cock straining against the tight denim as muscle memory transported him right back to reality for one excruciating heartbeat.

Back to those smoldering nights spent basking in the velvet bliss of your slick cunt gripping his cock in rippling ecstasy, his name punched from your kiss-swollen lips in desperate moans as he plunged into your convulsing heat over and over until—

A viscous pulse of arousal throbbed between his legs, jarring Ushijima back to the dismal present once more. He stared down at your ratty tee clutched in one massive fist, fabric already damp from the harsh panting breaths ghosting over the thin cotton. God, just the mere ghost of you lingering around him was proving hazardous to his self-restraint within mere minutes of being apart.

How in the hell was he supposed to maintain focus clear across an ocean when your addictive essence swamped his senses at every turn? When every stray thought kept circling back to craving the exquisite rapture of your entwined bodies, lips, and souls blending together until individuality became a meaningless concept?

Not for the first time, the treacherous notion of abandoning his obligations and turning right back around whispered through Ushijima's lust-fogged mind. It would be so easy - show up on your doorstep unannounced, haul you against his hulking frame for a searing reminder of exactly whom you belonged to before barricading you both away for days on end in carnal abandonment. No distractions, no shred of the outside world to penetrate your cocoon as he lost himself to claiming you over and over until his bones hollowed to sanctified husks...

A tiny glint of color among the tangle of his gear snapped Ushijima's attention back like a vice before the smoldering fantasies could obliterate his crumbling grasp on composure entirely.

There, nestled half-concealed between the folds of a wrinkled button-down, peeked a slender oblong of lurid pink plastic.

Ushijima's brows furrowed slightly as he reached in to extract the unfamiliar item - recognizing the construction of a basic USB drive even before his fingers wrapped around its surprising heft and warmth. As soon as the smooth edges grazed his calloused skin, a resonant prickle tingled over his nerve endings in a frisson of undeniable recognition.

You...this was one of yours. The same cheerful pink model you used for client drafts at your publishing job, vibrant enough to never go missing among scattered work debris.

A throaty rumble vibrated up from Ushijima's sternum at the realization, every bit of his frame tensing with renewed intensity. Of course...of course you would slip in some form of intimate connection amidst his luggage before departing. As if there were any possibility of you slipping his mind for even a heartbeat, even under the most arid of conditions.

Yet this tantalizing token still beckoned with wordless promise, didn't it? Your siren's call echoing through each silent pore in invitation for him to cease denying himself a long overdue taste of rapture...

His calloused thumb traced over the lurid plastic reverently as he fished for the slender drive's storage key. The unassuming object radiated your radiant warmth through every unseen groove and crease like an incorporeal brand seeping into his senses. Surely you had left this behind as a blessed indulgence to sustain him in your absence? A much-needed temptation to reroute his floundering thoughts back towards the searing light of your love no matter how far you receded on the horizon ahead?

Within seconds his probing fingertips found purchase around the USB's slim circumference—only to halt abruptly when his tactile hunt unearthed an unexpected addition. Something small and papery clung to the vibrant plastic like a fading afterthought, taped on with clear intention.

Despite the numerous memory sticks you carted back and forth to work, Ushijima would recognize the delicate flow of your inimitable script anywhere without hesitation. A subtle thrill thrummed beneath his ribs as he registered the precise curve of each letter loping across the minuscule notecard in slapdash flourishes, rushed yet weighted with profound familiarity...

Don't you dare say I never think of ways to keep your attention, Mr.Ushijima...

A wry, feral grin tugged at the hardened seams of Ushijima's expression as your breathless timbre seemed to ghost over his tingling senses with blistering intimacy. He could practically envision the coquettish lilt tugging at those plush lips as you hastily scrawled this siren's promise, could already taste the heady musk of arousal he knew would cling to your feverish skin at his answering rumbles of praise.

Always and forever my devious little wife, are you not? He found himself rumbling aloud in the stifling quiet, gaze honing in on the lurid flash of pink nestled between his palms with mounting intensity. One taste may prove utterly ruinous this evening...but what exquisite indulgence awaited should he dare to slake this pious thirst you always roused so effortlessly?

With those heated musings simmering beneath his skin, Ushijima scooped up the tantalizing memento and strode for the bed dominating the room's center. He dropped his bulk to settle against the crisp linens without preamble, rough palms already working at his belt as anticipation kicked his pulse into a thundering crescendo.

Ushijima settled back against the plush headboard, laptop balanced precariously on his thick thighs as the startup screen glowed to life before him. Each impatient click of the trackpad echoed like gunshots through the weighted silence blanketing the room's dim confines.

Only when the USB's contents finally populated into a neatly organized file tree did his taut shoulders begin loosening incrementally - every rigid line of tension sluicing away as icon after icon bearing your careful notation sprang into view. A low, rumbling exhale rasped past Ushijima's parted lips as the implications sank in like a full-body caress.

Not mere photographs or a chaste video clip as he'd initially assumed. No, your indulgent missive came in the form of meticulously catalogued vignettes chronicling a far more iniquitous trail for your husband to get hopelessly, rapturously lost within...

His calloused fingertip meandered over each file menu almost reverently, retracing the familiar sigil you favored for organizing such...forbidden anthologies. Just seeing that stylized emblem branded into each video thumbnail already set his pulse hammering with rising fever, every molecule of oxygen rapidly becoming saturated with the phantom essence of your intoxicating presence. Ushijima inhaled a rasping draught in a vain attempt to steady himself.

Your intricately braided scent swirled through his senses until he could almost taste the velvet musk billowing from your sweat-sheened skin, feel the rake of your lust-blown stare skating over his devouring form, practically hear your rasping exhalations as those plush lips parted around the sinful encouragements you always rained down upon him like the sweetest benedictions...

Steeling himself against the rising tide of delirious hunger, Ushijima jabbed the mousepad to illuminate the first dated file without further preamble. Let the sweet agonies commence - he could withstand any torment your carnal magics wrought just to remain suspended within your orbit a while longer.

The inaugural clip sprang to life across the cramped screen, immediately assaulting Ushijima's senses with sights and sounds achingly reminiscent of home. Every subtly familiar vista of your bedroom whispered intimacies only he was permitted to indulge - soft lamplight glazing every sinuous curve of your stripped bed with burnished light, the cozy armchair where he loved watching you lounge and preen after reuniting, even the well-worn hardwood that anchored your tangled raptures to a lifetime of blissful eternity.

The tinny strains of that infuriatingly catchy pop song you favored suddenly filtered through the laptop speakers, belying the hushed giggle that seemed to swell in tandem off-screen before your own impish cadence sliced through the prelude:

"And here he goes convincin' himself that he'll be okay when Daddy is gone..."

Ushijima tensed fractionally, abdomen clenching as your lilting moans interplayed with the grating bassline. Despite the teasing edge coating your syllables, he detected the faint rasp of strain underlying each plaintive note instantly recognizable to him alone.

As if magnetized, he sat transfixed while the camera panned in a graceful arc - revealing your deliciously disheveled form sprawled before the gleaming vanity toward which you'd positioned the lens. Barely cognizant arousal flooded Ushijima with ruthless intensity as every salacious detail sprung into flickering clarity before him.

You dominated the viewfinder in languid repose atop rumpled satin sheets, gloriously nude safe for one scandalously skimpy babydoll draping those opulent curves in wispy lace that did nothing to conceal your smoldering aura. Hair mussed from sleep or something far more indecent, plush lips already parted in the ghost of whimpers past as your fluttering lashes lifted to pin the camera with a sultry look from beneath heavy lids.

"Missin' you already, 'Toshi..." you mewled in that ruinous rasp that never failed to unman Ushijima on contact. Even through the tinny speakers, each smoky exhalation dripped from your mouth like aural honey caressing his most primal receptors.

He sucked in a shallow breath as the camera panned lower in obvious, torturous leisure - down the obscene valleys of cleavage spilling over the flimsy lace trim, over the subtle ridges of your flexing abdomen as you arched against the rumpled sheets, until...

"Oh fuck..." The gravelly sound of reverence punched from Ushijima's chest unchecked as your hands drifted into frame, thumbs curiously nudging apart the scant vee of lace bisecting your pelvis.

There, stark against your inner thighs gilded with soft lighting, crimson finger marks stood out in glossy stripes marring your flawless skin. The very traces of his cum, painted across your glistening folds with relentless possession shortly before his departure from your nest mere hours prior.

Your plaintive whimper pierced Ushijima's mesmerized trance, causing his stare to rake upwards hungrily in search of your flushed expression as you pried that flimsy barrier further apart. Just enough for the camera to capture the unmistakable sluggish drool of viscous cum leaking from your glistening cunt in an obscene, pearlescent bead.

"Mmmm, that's right..." you husked out on a strained exhale, holding your pose for the lens with seeming effort as your hips bucked up shamelessly. "Can't let it all go to waste before you come back for more, can I Wakatoshi?"

Ushijima went rigid at the breathless plea, teeth gritting as his neglected cock throbbed insistently against his palm in response. His gaze remained pinned on that syrupy rivulet of his own seed trickling across your swollen sex in perverse defiance, each sticky pulse seeming to beckon him nearer with lascivious promise.

As if compelled by some unseen magnetism, his free hand drifted down to join the other in cupping the bulge trapped torturously within his jeans. He squeezed and massaged the jumping length as a fresh, filthy moan filtered through the speakers - your sultry mewl of his given name transmuted into a raking growl deep in his parched throat.

Ushijima stroked himself through the denim prison with urgency building alongside your own escalating cries off-screen. Chest heaving, he was utterly transfixed by the sight of those dainty fingertips reaching down to spread your slick folds apart even further, baring the swollen flesh to his smoldering stare before languidly...slowly...burying two slender digits into the throbbing, sodden heat still bathed in the tangible evidence of his ravenous claiming from earlier that morning.

"Mmmphfff....gooood girl," he found himself rumbling in tandem as you arched off the bedspread with a mewling whine, stuffing yourself with those insistent thrusts greedily. "Show me how needy you are for Daddy’s fat cock after I already stuffed you so full before leaving..."

As if in answer, the image lurched and gyrated as your writhing kicked up a fresh notch, shameless and desperate now. Ushijima watched in rapt voyeuristic hunger as you fucked yourself in earnest on-screen - spine arcing sharply while those tiny fingers sawed in and out of your sodden slit in a blur. His own strokes matched your fevered tempo as ragged growls rattled up from his expansive chest, every muscle tensed with unbearable lust rapidly reaching the boiling point.

"Oh...oh fuck yes, just like that!" you suddenly wailed, babbling pants reverberating through the laptop's speakers in staccato bursts. "Mmmnngh, 'Toshi...! Can't get enough of your cum dribbling out of me, wanna keep every goddamn drop until you—until you come back and give me ano—ahhhh!"

Your broken raptures fragmented into siren song as the thrashing image tumbled sideways, skewing the camera view into vertigo-inducing angles as your orgasmic convulsions crested in earth-shattering rapture. Ushijima snarled through gritted teeth, hand pistoning over his aching length as the clip reached its feverish crescendo to the glorious vision of you writhing within the indelible mark of his scorching seed at long last.

With a heavy grunt torn from the deepest pits of his core, Ushijima arched against the headboard and ruthlessly painted his cum all over the video's graphic throes with rope after rope of pearly spend shooting from his ruddy tip. His eyes remained glued and glazed upon the flickering smears obscuring your own blissful delirium with each successive pulse - willfully drowning in the fantasy that your tangled forms were entwined once more amidst the sacred ritual rather than heartbeats apart.

At long last, he slumped back into the rumpled bedding to gulp down air through flaring nostrils...only to feel the weight of your siren's stare tugging his focus straight back to those final frames replaying in torturous anticipatory loop. The clip had frozen on the impossibly wrecked vision of you splayed out in unrestrained satiation - thighs quivering, face contorted mid-rapture, and lace negligee askew to frame the indelible mess of your husband's ravenous ownership smeared obscenely over your quivering pussy.

Without conscious forethought, Ushijima simply stared and absorbed every prurient detail while his harsh breaths slowed to a rasping purr deep in his broad chest. Yeah...yeah that's my good girl nice and ruined for me, isn't it? Daddy’s gonna come back and wreck that sweet little cunt so fucking deep with a fresh batch soon enough...

The darkly possessive words thrummed through his vocal cords unvoiced yet vibrating with tangible sin, pouring over the images of your decimated abandon like physical benedictions to be anointed upon your receptive form through sheer force of will alone. And somewhere amidst the digitized fractures flickering across the laptop's meager resolution, Ushijima could've sworn he glimpsed an echo of your half-lidded stare peering out from the maelstrom—yearning yet sated, wrecked yet burning with the promise of further ruination to come.

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