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onlyswan · 8 months

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summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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atticrissfinch · 7 months

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Hard to Break the Habit | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

Part 3 of Meet Me in the Back

pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: when you need some air in your tires, joel does some filling warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), size!kink, daddy!kink, light breeding!kink, brief oral (f!receiving), brief fingering, body-marking, taking nude photos, unprotected PIV, creampie, Joel being good with cars i.e. competency!kink ig, mentions of reader being in the dead dad club, v brief mentions of cigarettes and weed, something kinda sorta resembling…fluff??, Joel being his normal, sleazy self that we all know and love atp, also I typically try to make reader as accessible as I can/is plausible but in this case reader can fit in Joel’s coat and knows jackshit about car maintenance word count: ~5K | ao3 a/n: we know him, we love him, we can't stop writing him. i love this joel so much, and we get just like an OUNCE of cutesy in this part, so I hope y'all like that shit 💖 Series Masterlist | Masterlist

It takes a good, long ponder before you make the decision. The tire light on your car has been on for at least a week now, and you’ve been putting it off. You did a thorough check of them and came to the conclusion that they just need air. Something that you presume should be easy, but you’ve never done it before.

You’ve always happened to have a boyfriend (or boy toy) around to do it for you. And before them, there was your father. You’ve somehow managed to go this long without ever filling up your tires yourself, and you feel fucking stupid about it.

Anything regarding the actual maintenance of your car feels vastly out of your depth, and even though you’re sure you could learn, you’re plagued with an overwhelming anxiety that you could make one wrong move and your car will blow up.

It’s that anxiety that ultimately has you pulling into the gas station on a chilly Saturday night at 2 AM, when you know Joel will be there and won’t be busy. The station has a free air pump, so he must know how it functions, right?

Your zip-up jacket and leggings don’t do much to keep you warm, so you all but sprint inside to the sickly chime of the bell on the door.

Right where you’ve left him every time, he’s on his stool, Maxim between his thighs. He glances up at the sound of the bell, and you think his eyes light up just a titch. “Well, well. Didn’t know if I’d see you again.”

“Wasn’t sure I’d let you,” You banter back, your hands shoved into your jacket pockets, arms clinging to your sides for warmth as you thaw inside the warm store.

“Wind is bitin’ out there. The hell you doin’ out so late when it’s this cold?” A knowing smile creeps across his face. “Couldn’t resist the allure of another ride on the ol’ Joel-er Coaster, huh?”

You stare at him, face riddled with bemusement. “Really? Joel-er Coaster? Do you just sit here all night, coming up with stupider and stupider shit to say to women?”

“Got a lotta time on my hands here, little girl,” Joel says, gesturing broadly to the empty store.

“Well, then, can you give me a hand with something?” You ask, biting your lip with slight apprehension.

Joel grunts through his words as he pushes himself up off his stool and tosses his magazine on the counter, “Sure can.”

His hands are already on his goddamn belt when you rush out, “Not with that! Something else.”

His fingers freeze halfway through pulling the end of his belt through the buckle with a quizzical look. “The hell else would you be comin’ to me for?”

You sigh, rubbing your palm into your eye socket as you brace yourself for the impending embarrassment. “I need someone to fill up my tires.”

Joel’s brows draw down as his hands fall to the counter instead of his belt. “Fill up your tires? That’s it?”

“I’ve never done it before, alright? I don’t wanna fuck something up.”

“You ain’t got a daddy—an actual daddy—to show you how to do that shit?”

You avoid his gaze doggedly. “It’s complicated. Short answer is no.”

“And so I’m the closest thing to a daddy you got?” Joel lets a low whistle. “Shit, I’ll take what I can get.” Joel throws on a thick utility jacket from an alcove under the counter and heads out the door. “Come on, darlin’. Faster we get you filled up…” He looks over his shoulder with a little glint in his eye as he winks, “Well, faster we get you filled up.”

You scoff quietly, but trail after him, wrapping the ends of your flimsy jacket around you as tight as you can with your hands buried in the sleeves.

As you make your way over to the pump where you pulled up your car–proud of yourself for at least being able to identify the right machine, all things considered–Joel chats casually with you. “So your daddy don’t live around here?”

You can see your breath as you exhale, not particularly wanting to have this conversation, but you don’t feel like arguing. “Doesn’t live anywhere anymore.”

Joel halts at your car, peering over his shoulder at your shivering form. “Shit. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s whatever,” You brush off, your teeth chattering, and you have no fucking idea why you didn’t grab a warmer coat.

“Jesus, darlin’,” Joel exclaims softly, wriggling his arms out of his jacket and handing it to you. “Gonna catch your fuckin’ death dressed like that.”

“Joel, it’s fine. You’re in short sleeves! I’m not—”

But he thrusts the coat against you with finality until you wrap your arms around it tentatively and mutter a “thank you” as you pull it on. He hasn’t even worn it long and it’s already warm, smelling of cigarettes, his cologne, and a hint of weed. It’s oddly comforting in a way you are definitely not granting yourself liberty to analyze right now.

“Reckon you don’t know your PSI off the top of your head?”

“That would be a no,” You admit, teeth doing significantly less chattering in the heavy coat.

“That’s alright. Unlock your car,” He instructs as he pulls on your driver’s side handle.

You rear back a little. “Fuck no. I’m not letting you in my car.”

Joel sighs, propping an arm on his hip, the hairs on his arm raised in goosebumps from the chill. “Relax, I just need to check your PSI threshold.”

“PSI threshold?”

“Yes. Stands for Pressure…Somethin’…Somethin’…I don’t fuckin’ know, it just tells me how much to fill up your tires.”

“And that’s found inside my car…?”

“In the door frame typically, yes.”

You eye him warily, but he seems as even-keeled as he ever has, so you sigh out a cloudy breath and pull your keys from your zip-up pocket and hit the unlock.

“Thank ya kindly,” He nods with a little salute as he opens the door and crouches. You round the car to watch for any funny business, but he just taps on the small label right in the frame of the door. “There she is.”

“Oh shit. Never even noticed that before.”

Joel shakes his head. “Jesus. Operatin’ this thing and don’t know a goddamn thing about it.”

“I know how to drive it,” You sass back, leaning in obstinately with your arms crossed, “That’s all that matters.”

Joel’s eyes flick up to you before studying the text on the little sticker, muttering under his breath, “Until you need to fill your fuckin’ tires.”

“Someone usually does it for me, okay, dickhole?”

“Not the one I’d be calling a dickhole out the two of us, but alright,” He mumbles. He cranes his head to look up at you and inquire, “You at least got a pressure gauge?”

“The fuck is that?”

“Jesus. It’s usually like a little…metal shaft with a bulb on the end,” He explains, doing his best to mime the shape with his hands.

You narrow your eyes. “That supposed to be some kind of euphemism for—Oh! Wait,” You cut yourself off, remembering the weird silver thing an ex left in your car once. You scurry over to the passenger’s side and pilfer through the glove compartment until you spy what you think he’s looking for, holding it up in the air.

“Is this it?”

Joel grins widely, holding his hand out for it. “Atta girl! Nudge her along in the right direction and she just might surprise ya.”

“Yeah, yeah, you already know I’m a quick study,” You brag, crouching down to his level by the front tire.

Joel’s gaze falls over you as he rhythmically thuds the metal shaft of the gauge into the palm of his hand, scanning you up and down with that telltale look that he always seems to get with you. “That I do. That I fuckin’ do.”

And god knows why, but you can feel your cheeks heating up, and you’re fairly positive it has nothing to do with his coat on your shoulders.

Joel takes it from there, showing you each step of the process as he goes, since, in his words, if he’s gonna be your daddy, he might as well teach you a thing or two.

In what feels like no time, your tires are pumped and the light on your dashboard flickers off, much to your relief.

“Thanks,” You force out when the job is done, sitting on the hood of your car as Joel wipes his hands on his jeans, still not showing any signs of the cold getting to him and his broad as fuck figure.

“Welcome,” He offers back, reclining against the hood next to you. “You ever need help with this fucker, you come to me first. Don’t want you gettin’ ripped off by some shop when they see a sexy young thing like you who don’t know shit about cars.”

“I dunno. Seem to be able to get whatever I want with just my body. I might never have to pay for something a man’s selling ever again.” You peek over at him with a smirk, just to find that his eyes are already on you, lust glazing over them.

“Hell, might not even need to flash him anything. Just wear his goddamn clothes.”

You snort, but draw his coat in tighter on you against the chill.

“You know, I added a li’l somethin’ to the stockroom I think you’d like.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “What, some increased hygiene?”

Joel breathes out a laugh and pushes off the car, jerking his head toward the store as he walks. “Come see, sexy girl.”

He’s most of the way to the front door before you swallow your pride and follow.

—

“Wow.”

“You like it?”

“Sure is something.”

The tiny, lumpy, floral-upholstered loveseat is crammed in the back of the crowded room, the swooping wood paneling on the front of the arms deeply chipped and scuffed to hell. It looks like someone’s dead grandmother’s old couch that got left on the curb.

That’s probably exactly what it fucking is, from your perception and expectations of Joel so far.

Joel’s breath raises the hackles on the back of your neck as his firm hands slide his coat from your shoulders and he whispers in your ear, “You wanna give the old thing a whirl?”

You swallow thickly, the memory of Joel’s massive cock throbbing in between your legs as his hands grab your hips, his mouth sucking at your neck.

“Joel,” You sigh, your eye falling closed as your head drops to the side to grant him more of your skin.

Joel tuts disapprovingly as his fingers flex at your waist. “You know what to call me, little girl. ‘Specially after I was so generous in teachin’ you somethin’.”

The tips of Joel’s fingers tease at the seam of your cunt through your leggings, and your jaw drops in a gasping moan, “Daddy.”

“Good girl,” He encourages, using two fingers to stroke up the expanse of your pussy over the fabric. “Tell Daddy Joel what you want.”

“Want your cock, daddy,” You moan, rolling your hips against his fingers and pulling a sharp intake of breath when the sides of his fingers pinch at your clit. “Please,” You add on for good measure.

Joel groans in your ear, the tip of his tongue tracing the shell as he begins to disrobe you. “You want this big fuckin’ horsecock ticklin’ your fuckin’ tummy, naughty girl?”

The cold from outside has absolutely nothing on the fucking shiver that runs down your spine at his words. Your lips feel chapped as you slide your tongue over them and breathe out, “Yes, please.”

As Joel ravages your neck, your clothes slump to the floor one by one until he has you startlingly naked in comparison to his fully clothed form. He shoves you playfully in the direction of the sofa, and you flop onto it on your back, draping one leg over the top of the couch and the other hanging off the edge to spread yourself open as wide as possible for him.

“Jesus, Mary, and fuckin’ Joseph,” Joel rasps at the sight of you as he wrangles his cock out of his pants. “Fuckin’ hell I’ve been missin’ out on this view. Goddamn animal shelter ain’t never seen this much pussy.”

“Please just fuck me,” You moan, dipping your hand between your legs to rub at your clit.

Joel growls at that sight too, and practically dives headfirst onto the couch and between your thighs. His mouth latches over your lips and clit, shaking his head rapidly back and forth like he’s attempting to motorboat your cunt.

A wanton cry pushes out your throat as he licks broad strokes over your sensitive flesh. When he comes up for air, he’s panting against your stomach, a blazing fire in his eyes.

“You keep these legs spread wide open for me, darlin’. Wanna watch this little slit stretch.”

“God, yes, I need it,” You whine, using your fingers to part your lips and give him full access.

“Oh, she needs it now, does she? She needs daddy’s big cock rippin’ her open?”

“Yes,” You whimper as the thick head of his cock skates up and down the length of your core, soaking it embarrassingly quick.

“Swear to god this little snatch looks tinier and tinier each time I see it, don’t matter how much I stretch it out. Just snaps right back like a bad habit, don’t it?”

“I like that,” You insist, your voice kicking higher as he starts to tease you on his downstrokes, pushing the tip of him into your opening with the barest amount of pressure, and popping right back out to rub it against your clit with the additional slick. “Like that it stretches me every time.”

“Not so scared of it anymore, are ya?” Joel points out, smacking the length of you with the length of him in increasingly wet thumps against your pussy.

“No. Love it, daddy,” You whisper into the musty room, fingers scratching against the hideous upholstery on the arm of the soft above your head. “Please put it in.”

He doesn’t disappoint, lifting your ass onto his thighs as he positions himself at your entrance. That familiar grunt floods the room as he pushes inside you for the first time tonight, his lips pouted open in pleasure as your body lets him in. “Shit, baby. Already chokin’ daddy just right. Look at that pretty stretch,” He moans, admiring the strain of your cunt wrapping around his giant cock.

You keen at the stretch, how could you not, even after the third time. It prickles and stings along the thin flesh that encompasses him in the fucking best way, the pain vibrating to your clit as he pushes in to the hilt and you feel his thatch of curls smashing into your slick folds.

He doesn’t let you adjust for long before he’s pulling all the way out, the head of his cock catching on your stretched pussy. “Such a slutty, fucked out little hole already, baby,” He groans, lining himself up once more as he slams all the way into you again to hear you shout for him.

“Fuck, fuck, god, fuck me,” You plead, doing what you can to meet his thrusts as they gain speed, peeling you open for his taking.

You can see your vision going unfocused, forcing your senses to feel him instead as your body clings to him, begging him to stay tearing you apart.

A racket suddenly starts up outside the door, like someone yelling and pounding on glass, and you both startle, heads whipping toward the door.

“Fuck,” Joel spits, wrenching his cock out of you with a wet squelch and dancing on his feet as he zips up his jeans in a rush. “Don’t fuckin’ move,” he instructs as he hobbles through the door, shutting it securely behind him.

You whine to yourself and do your best to distract your mind from your aching pussy clenching around the abrupt nothingness, the gaping cavity left by his unjustly huge cock, and strain an ear to assess what is happening outside the room.

“Jesus fuck, can’t a man take a leak in peace?”

“I need gas! What, this ain’t a fuckin’ gas station after 2 AM?”

“Then pay with a goddamn card at the pump, ya broke bastard.”

You hear more muffled altercation, the ding of Joel’s register, and the chime of the front door. Then heavy footsteps leading to the door until his hulking frame fits the doorway, sealing the two of you in again into your grimy paradise.

“Sorry, darlin’. Duty callin’. Hope your little hole didn’t shrivel up in the meantime,” He prattles as he heads back over to you, pulling his still-hard cock from its confines once more.

“Just put it back in,” You sigh, your head falling back into the lumpy cushion.

“Ain’t gotta tell me twice, dirty girl.”

His knees indent the couch again on either side of you as he sinks down and guides his cock back into you. He grunts a deep, low sound as your heat envelops him again. “Nah, still fuckin’ perfect for me. Clampin’ down on my big pecker just right. I know my girl, know just how she squeezes and creams around me.”

“Not your girl,” You pant out as his pace picks up right where he left off, hammering into you like you’ve done him an unkindness.

“Y’are when you’re impaled on my cock like this, darlin’,” He grits out, his hips swinging, smacking back and forth into you like a pendulum. “Ain’t no other word for it but mine. Daddy’s filthy little girl.”

“Oh, fuck,” You squeak out as the head of Joel’s cock smashes against that golden spot inside of you, your head arching back in ecstasy with your neck on full display. Joel growls, stealing the opportunity to bite into your neck, like a dog with a chew toy, like he wants to tear you apart. You moan as you feel the blunt of his teeth on your flesh, denting the side of your neck. “Fuck, give it to me, daddy,” You whine, sufficiently lost inside the pleasure this man arouses in you against your better judgment.

“That’s right,” Joel rasps, his hot breath melting into your skin as he nips at your jaw, “Let daddy have it. Let daddy have all of it.”

You can feel your eyes lazing into the back of your head as his cock continues to punish your g-spot, your tongue hanging out of your mouth as you heroically claw for each breath that Joel seems to be sucking out of you with every stifling press of his cock through your walls.

You’ve never been a match for him, for his massive length, even from the get-go. From the time he sent you hurtling into the first orgasm you’d had on his cock in this same backroom, overwhelmed by such all-engrossing pleasure that you weren’t even sure what it was until your pussy was begging him to stop, to give you a sensory break to analyze what the fuck had just happened. With your tits that you’d flashed him in public mere minutes prior hanging out for his enjoyment, your pliant body bent over a box, and his cock shoved so deep up your cunt it felt like he was taking a self-guided tour of every organ you house within your skin and bones.

No, you’ve never been a match for him, but he still manages to set you ablaze each time you strike against him, stretch open on him. And goddamn it, he makes it feel like you fit. Like he fits inside you, like you fit together.

You fucking hate it. You fucking crave it.

You dig your heels into his ass, a feral scream ripping from your throat as you wordlessly demand more, a concept that you never could have fathomed after that first time. Wanting, needing more from this mountain of a man with his paralyzing cock.

“Yes, fuck yeah, bitch. Let me fuckin’ hear you. Let me hear how fuckin’ insane this cock makes you. How cock drunk I got you when you’re split open on daddy’s dick. Spit it in my fuckin’ face,” He rants, nails digging into your shoulder blade as he pulls you down onto his length to meet his punishing, rewarding thrusts.

Your throat feels raw, beat to hell like the dripping hole between your legs, but you can’t stop screaming for more, tears welling and falling at some instance you can’t pinpoint, but now your face is wet and calling out for him. The “daddy”s and “please”s and “your cock”s rattling, singing off your tongue like sacred psalms for him.

Until you feel the greedy grasp of your orgasm wrenching apart your insides, clinging to his cock like a final lifeline as the remainder of your body splinters into fractions.

“Yes, baby, yeah, fuckin’ come for me. So fuckin’ pretty fallin’ apart on daddy’s cock. That’s fuckin’ right,” He grinds out, fucking into your body until it goes limp from exhaustion. “Open up for Daddy Joel’s come, darlin’. Take every fuckin’ drop,” He growls, finally screeching to a halt as his own release overtakes him, balls deep inside your waiting cunt.

You feel the flood of him, pumping you full and somehow seeping out from the iron clutch of your cunt around him. You already feel him dripping onto the christened couch, and selfishly, senselessly, you hope that it’s the first time for the furniture, at least from Joel’s doing. Logic would argue the contrary, but in your post-orgasm haze, you suddenly loathe the idea of anyone else feeling this goddamn good at this man’s mercy.

“Just like that. Let me breed that little snatch,” He purrs into your ear, the grate of too many cigarettes vibrating from his throat into your already buzzing bloodstream. And fuck wouldn’t that be a concept. Allowing Joel to ingrain a part of himself inside you so deeply that it eventually becomes sentient. A living creature sprouted from pure, unadulterated lust.

You don’t want it. You don’t want kids. At least not now, with him. But shit, you need this man to swallow you whole. You don’t know how else to get there.

But how the fuck did you even get here? Full to bursting with a carnal need for this…menace. This grubby, inappropriate, sleazy sack of…trouble. Loads and loads of trouble. And load after load of his…

Fuck.

As the devil speaks, Joel’s spent cock wriggles out of you, slick and coated with the pair of you and what you’ve done, over and over again now. No longer a one-off or a let’s just test if it was as good as the first time. You’re a repeat fucking offender now. The flow of his come trickling out of your ransacked pussy more than just a memory, but an expectation.

You run a heavy hand down your face and then bury it in your hair with leaden eyelids concealing the shame within them. Thick fingers drag up the seam of your cunt, press inside you with the escaped rivulets of Joel’s spend, fuck into your stretched hole with disarming tenderness as he plants every bit of himself within you as he can, despite the barriers you have firmly in place rendering his actions moot.

“Don’t wanna waste it,” He mutters, voice thick and deep with his own post-orgasm sluggishness. Wetness presses against your lips, and you give no thought before opening them for him, the weight of his digits monumental on your tongue as you suck your shame off of them with concave cheeks.

Your spit tracks down your chin with the drag of his fingertips along it as he frees them from your mouth. You’re vaguely cognizant of them drifting down your neck, between your breasts, over your stomach before he mumbles a “Don’t move,” for the second time tonight. You’re just as unwilling to disobey as you were the first time, only it’s the bonelessness in your limbs that fosters it now, rather than that bone-deep longing. So you allow your eyes to rest as they have been.

His presence is gone from the couch for less than a minute before he’s straddling your thighs again. You jump involuntarily when you feel a light tug on your skin under your belly button and above your mound, of something slightly cooler than the temperature of your skin. You lift your head from the sofa in lazy curiosity, to find the tip of Joel’s tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth and a Sharpie in his hand, scrawling on your skin.

“Joel, what—”

“Shh, I want it to be legible. I got notoriously shit chicken scratch.”

You give a brief whine, but drop your head back and remain steady, letting the pull and drag of the marker hypnotize you into a peaceful contentment.

“Alright. You can look.”

You lift your head again, but you can’t quite make it out. You prop yourself onto your elbows and see, “Daddy Joel’s Pussy” with an arrow pointing directly down to your cunt in sharp but still notably sloppy handwriting. Undeniably Joel in a charming sort of way.

Your eyes widen, and you flop back onto the couch. “Jesus Christ, Joel.”

“Don’t like it?” He says, a smirk in his voice. “Lemme do somethin’ else. This is fun.”

“You need to get back out there,” You argue, indicating toward the door.

“I don’t gotta do nothin’. ‘Less someone starts bangin’ down the door again.”

Joel’s tongue darts out once more as the marker bleeds on the curve of your breast. This time you watch every stroke, every line, until you see “Joel’s Slut” adorning your skin, one word inked over each nipple in his terrible penmanship.

“This is gonna be such a fucking pain to get off,” You grumble as Joel eagerly, with almost a childlike intrigue, continues to sketch over your torso. “Just please not anywhere visible.”

“Roger, Roger,” Joel mumbles absentmindedly, transfixed on his next art installment between your breasts. This one he finishes quicker, and you see why when you glance down. It’s a crude dick and balls, the head pointing upwards toward your neck, nestled right in your cleavage, with scattered tiny lines you guess are meant to represent a cumshot.

“Fucking hell, Joel…”

“You ever seen what a sternum looks like on one of them diagrams? Looks like a fuckin’ cock,” He imparts, a youthful glow on his face, like pride at his cleverness.

“Yeah, I’ve seen it, smartass. But if we’re going with actual anatomy, the figurative balls would be at the top and the figurative dick would be pointed down,” You lecture, vague memories of the subject surfacing in your brain that, admittedly, you also only remember because you thought it looked like a downward facing dick when you learned about it.

“Don’t spoil my fuckin’ fun with your facts,” He scowls, a crease between his brows as the marker drags over your abdomen. “I like that it looks like I’m squirtin’ a load on your tits.”

“This is so fucking stupid, Joel,” You protest, laughter in your voice.

“Shut your slutty little mouth and let me play.”

With your bones still feeling like jello, you let him. The minutes tick by until Joel announces proudly, “There. You’re a fuckin’ masterpiece.”

You hazard another look down, and your torso is covered in ink.

Daddy’s Bitch

Golden Gash

Cocksleeve

Gutterslut

Gas Station Hooker

A myriad of other disgusting sentiments plastered in big, bold letters, etched on your skin in permanent marker. You groan, throwing a hand over your face. “Jesus, Joel.”

“Lemme get a picture. You look so pretty.”

You peek through your fingers to find Joel standing over you, his phone poised at his artwork. You cover your face as thoroughly as you can, doing what you can to avoid associating your face with your body as he snaps his photos.

“Fuck, I’m gonna bust a nut over these later. Maybe two,” He moans as he slips his phone into his pocket and paws at your tits, squeezing them together and pinching at your nipples.

You slap a hand down at him to shoo him off and start pulling on your clothes. “Hope you had your fun. I’m gonna make sure this shit is gone by the next time,” You insist, studying down yourself just to ensure no marks are showing through your clothes.

“So we’re sayin’ ‘next time’ now, are we?”

You look back at Joel who is very smugly seated back on the couch, manspreading with the best of them as his face beams.

“Shut up,” You mutter, fixing what you can of your hair.

“Gimme your number, sugartits. I think I’ve earned that.”

“Yeah fucking right,” You scoff, but Joel is holding out his phone insistently. You stare at it for a long moment before sighing and snatching it from him. You consider giving him a fake number, but the incessant ache between your thighs keeps you honest. You toss it back into his lap. “There. Don’t make me fucking regret it.”

“Haven't regretted him yet from what I’ve gathered,” He chides, grabbing his crotch obscenely as you roll your eyes.

“Go do your fucking job. I’ll see you around maybe,” You throw noncommittally at him as you make your way out, trying to purge that look of smug pride on his face, the existence of your naked, graffitied body on his phone, from your memory. “And…thanks. Again,” You tack on as you walk backward out the door for a couple of steps, seeing him give you a wink as you turn back around.

The second you settle into your car, your phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number. You heave a heavy sigh and open it.

An image, the exact image you’d been trying to forget, of your naked, graffitied body, with your face masked by your hands. Accompanied with one word.

“Mine.”

Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!

taglist: @bbyanarchist@within-the-depths@livingdeadmaria@cool-iguana@a-roving-woman @koshkaj-blog @asideblogformyficreading @totallynotastanacc @adaslittleblog @walkintotheriveranddisappear @pr0ximamidnight @sinfulrock @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kyloispunk @pinkiec6-rubi @vickywallace @pattwtf @chiyo13 @neverwheremoonchild @janaispunk @youandmeand5bucks @ladyburberry @kamcrazy123 @punkshort @survivingandenduring @confessionbrain-writings @lizzie-cakes @prettyinpunk85 @joeldjarin @bubble-pop-eclectic @chloeangelic @tripkid @untamedheart81 @jbb-sgr

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #katy wroted fic

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magpiepills · 1 month

Text

Plow

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Joel Miller x f reader

Word count: 900ish

Summary: Joel’s neighbor does yoga and he has a new appreciation of the practice.

Warnings: SMUT, voyeurism, pervert Joel, creep Joel, male masturbation, PIV, fingering, spit as lube, reader is able to do yoga and wears activity appropriate clothing.

A word from the author: come get your creepy Joel jerk off fic!

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 3 Here

He stopped in his tracks the first time he noticed that the little window at the landing on his staircase looked right over your privacy fence and into your backyard. He might or have noticed at all if you hadn’t been outside, splayed over your purple yoga mat, twisted into a pretzel with your legs wide open and your tits threatening to spill out of that little stretchy top you wore.

He looked around, sure that someone saw him, knew what he was seeing, heard his brain telling him to look away and saw him watching anyway.

Joel was a practical man. He was honest and good and upright. He took pride in it.

That didn’t stop his hand from sliding over his jeans to palm his rapidly hardening cock. Didn’t stop him from zeroing in on the way the snug fabric highlighted the point of your nipples, or oh god how it molded to the cleft of your cunt.

He tore his hungry gaze away long enough to flick off the lights, hoping to watch just a little more in secret before he swore to himself that he would do the right thing and go downstairs and put you out of his mind.

It was only seconds before he was back in place at the window, ducking to the side to stay out of sight should you look up. In that time you’d switched positions. He watched as you slowly stretched your legs and spine, lifting your pert ass into the air.

Joel’s heart raced. He let himself believe that you were offering yourself to him. He imagined tearing open the fabric of those fucking pants and finding your bare pussy underneath, he let his mind paint a picture of your slick and swollen lips, your tight little asshole, all on display just for him, ready for him to devour or destroy.

He unbuttoned his jeans, belt buckle clacking against the floor as they fell around his ankles. He left his boxers on and told himself it was ok, that looking was free, that he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

He was hard as a rock.

He watched as you moved through your poses, breath hitched as he daydreamed of fucking you in each one.

You were so limber, bending like a willow switch, your movements so smooth and deliberate. He was transfixed by the graceful motion of your body and soon his boxers joined his jeans on the floor. His hand moved slowly against his length. His palm contoured to the underside of his cock and slid down to cup his balls before going back up to roll over the thick, weeping head.

Joel wondered how else you might stretch.

Did you ever touch yourself? Did you slip your fingers inside? How many? How many of his could you take in that little hole? Would you be loud? Scream his name? He would start with one, if he ever got the chance. He would feel how wet you got and he would spread your wetness over your clit again and again, dipping back for more of your dripping arousal, getting you close to coming then adding a second to make you moan and clench.

His fist moved faster around his cock, he spat into his hand to aid the glide, but he didn’t dare look down to watch, didn’t risk missing a moment of you. You were a goddamn minx.

He would add a third finger, he decided. He would wait until your first orgasm washed away, leaving you limp and pliant on your little mat. You’d think he was finished with you, but he would just dive back in, licking and sucking at your pussy, mixing his saliva with your wet release, and sucking your clit between his lips, feeling it throb as he tongued it, making your back arch off the mat when he split you with three thick, rough fingers.

Joel was close. Too close. He didn’t want to come yet.

He squeezed the base of his cock and took a few deep breaths. He looked at your pretty face, you looked dewy and serene, practically glowing. He imagined your pretty face covered in his cum.

You seemed to be winding down, stretching your body out, arms over your head, tits lifted and begging for his hands and his mouth.

Joel pumped his turgid member, closing in on his orgasm as you laid on your back, arms over your head, legs spread wide and bent at the knee, opening up your hips just for him, he was sure. Every deep breath you took lifted your chest and dropped your knees a little further.

How easy it would be to fold you in half and fill you up with his aching cock. He could pull that little top down, lick those little nipples you were hiding, use your top as a handle to fuck you hard and deep, hammering into you.

Joel’s vision tunneled, the house, the fence, the grass and sky all fell away until it was just you, mere yards away, practicing your yoga in the privacy and seclusion of your yard, while Joel splattered his tshirt and spilled cum down his thick knuckles to the image of you in his mind, stuffed full of cock, rubbing your little clit furiously with your manicured fingers, wedding ring shining in the sunlight as he squeezed your tits and filled you to the brim.

None the wiser to what had just transpired on the other side of the fence, you checked your watch, sipped from your water bottle, rolled up your mat and went back inside. Joel was left alone with his stains and his shame and checked his own watch, making a

Mental note so he could be waiting at the same time tomorrow, tissues and lotion handy.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #smut #bat writes #pedro pascal #Joel miller x neighbor

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evilmario666 · 2 years

Text

GUYS.

OK so as you know I’m in containment right now in Alaska for showing “anomalous characteristics” because my head is a clock and on fire. My only entertainment other than heavily monitored internet access is the Seekers (Erin Hunter) series.

So I started talking with the armored guard with a machine gun and a reality anchoring belt on about Sherlock and

SHIPS

JOHNLOCK!!!!!!!!!!

I cannot stress this enough. The ship has sailed, y’all.

My personal cell’s goddamn guard in this top-secret underground company bunker filled with beasts that go against the laws of nature ships Johnlock. If he can see it, anyone can.

And then he said, “WE NEED SEASON 3″! And I was like “SO MUCH YES!!” And we shared fanfics and fanboyed all night. Unfortunately he got disposed of this morning as a agents and guards are expendable company resources but that’s that and this is this.

The ship has sailed. Johnlock is inevitable!

#Mario posts

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dxckgrxsonx · 1 year

Note

"you can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself." + jason please my love??? i love e2l <3

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader

Words - 900ish

Warnings - 18+ SMUT - Graphic Sexual Content - Unprotected Sex - Cocky!Jason (he's good and he knows it) - Swearing

Notes - Hi my darlings!! It's been far too long since I've written something smutty so here you are!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

He pisses you off like nothing else on this Earth.

Broad shoulders, incredible skill, smart fucking mouth. He calls you in the middle of the night knowing you’d answer; knowing without a shadow of a doubt that even with you seething and furious and goddamn exhausted, you would still pick up the phone.

He’s smug about it and sometimes, just sometimes, you consider blocking his stupid number.

“I absolutely fucking hate you.” You greet, halfway into a snarl. Vaguely, you acknowledge that it’s not an ideal greeting, but it’s three in the morning and the thread of patience between your fists frays horribly when Jason steps out of the dark, already grinning at the look on your face. “I was sleeping.”

“And yet…” Jason says, watching you far too intently. “Here you are anyway.” He presses forwards, crowds you right up against the nearest flat surface, and tips your head up so you have no choice but to watch him pick you apart. “It’s almost like you can’t say no to me, sweetheart. In fact, I don't think you’ve ever said no to me…”

“Don’t.” You whisper, knowing where he’s heading. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He presses on you hard enough to bruise; hard enough to scatter hairline fractures through your whole nervous system. It feels like static. It feels like an ache Jason carved into you with his own two hands–and his beautifully thick cock–to mark you as his own.

“You want this.” He breathes, mouth still pitched up in that wicked smirk and your entire world starts bending in the middle, moulding around Jason and warping under his capable hands. You can’t stand it: you hate yourself for it. “You get wet just thinking about it…thinking about me.”

It was a chance meeting and back then you were so goddamn stupid.

You could hardly walk after the first time, cunt stretched open and sore from how many times he opened you up with his fingers–with his cock. He was big and thick and he had no choice but to take his time to get your pretty pussy to yield to him–to let him in. He praised you the whole time, and then fucked you until you were trembling and whimpering and squeezing at his cock.

It was weeks before you heard from him again and nothing you did with your own two hands was enough.

You needed him and he knew it.

You need him now and he knows it.

There’s a wet spot soaking through your underwear and the second Jason see’s it he’s groaning something feral against your throat. Shoving you backwards onto the bed he chases and wedges his broad shoulders between your thighs before you have a chance to flinch them closed.

Grabbing at your knees he spreads you open and pushes your legs back until they’re almost by your ears. Your muscles burn at the stretch, and you try to wiggle out of his grip but Jason leans forward and drags his tongue over the slick fabric covering your weeping slit.

“Fuck you.” You gasp. Unable to think of anything but how much you hate him for what he’s turned you into and how good he makes you feel. “Fuck you so much.”

He laughs and it’s almost mean with how arrogant he is.

Jason releases his hold on your knees to unbuckle his belt and then he’s back, smacking the thick, heavy length of him against your covered pussy. He rubs the fat head through the growing damp patch on your underwear and your puffy clit twitches hard enough that he can see it throb.

Wedging the tip of his cock underneath the fabric he teases your soaked hole until you thrash a little and whine. Pressing in just enough to get you to stretch open around him he pulls back so he can do it again and you snap your jaw closed around the pleas building in your mouth.

“Say it.” Jason demands.

Sinking the first few inches into your soft, slick pussy Jason holds and waits, Lazarus eyes awake and interested in each trembling twitch of your body.

“I hate this.” You lie, unable to stop yourself from throbbing around the tip of his cock, arousal leaking and squelching out around the edges of him. “I hate you.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Jason hums, using one hand to pull your underwear to the side so he can see just how embarrassingly wet you are. Your slick sticks to the fabric and it stays attached to your pussy in thin strings “You can pretend all you want, I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself.”

Thrusting forwards he stuffs his full length inside you with one, rough stroke and you moan loud enough to shake the windows.

“Oh–ah fuck!–Jason.” You try, voice trembling.

“There you go.” He says. “I knew you wanted this. I knew your aching little pussy wouldn’t be able to say no to me. No one can fuck you like I can, sweetheart.” Shoving your knees apart he holds you so tightly you can barely move and watches his cock split you open. “Every time I call you, there you are, all mad and pretty and wet. And the second I get inside you, you go all soft and cockdrunk for me.”

“Uh–plea–please.”

“Yeah.” Jason grins. “Just like that. Now, let’s see how much you can come for me this time, huh? You managed three last time before you started crying. But I think you can do better for me, right sweetheart?”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut #red hood x reader smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #asks #answered #birthofvcnus #friends 💕#smut prompts #also hi my darling!!#i love you so much #im giving you one thousand million kisses <3 #ella writes

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mingtinysworld · 2 months

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Adrenaline Rush

Pairing: choi jongho x fem!reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Jongho needs to blow off some steam after he's not satisfied with a performance, and you happen to be there for his assistance. Not that you mind.

Warnings: MDNI, rough, mean jongho, one face slap, throatfucking, hair pulling, degradation kink, use of names like (fucktoy, cumslut), cum swallowing

A/n: I SWEAR I did NOT plan to make Jongho this mean??? But it's ok because he's all cute and sweet at the end. I do love me a mean jongho though. Enjoyyyy please like, comment, and reblog!! - J<3

You nervously wait backstage, eyes on the monitor as staff put up the intricate set pieces for Ateez's stage. You know how hard the boys have worked for this insanely monumental opportunity. Especially Jongho, who has been nonstop belting his voice to perfect the high notes.

A few hours prior, Jongho had started feeling pain in his throat. He was afraid of letting down the group when he's known to be the powerhouse vocal that he is. You knew that no matter what, he would do an amazing job, but you were nervous on his behalf due to his harshness to himself.

You let out a stuttered breath and bounce your leg as they go on stage. They look majestic, and everyone in the crowd seems to absolutely love them. They perform almost their whole set, everything being more than perfect. You feel like crying from how proud you are, of each and every member. Then it's time for Wonderland.

This is the song that Jongho has been nervously dreading. The intense belt of 4 octaves leaves him to dread it every time. But you know that he kills it every single time, and you're certain he will today as well.

He steps forward, takes a deep steady breath, and goes for it. It's as if angels have come down to make you ascend with them. You're convinced that Jongho is not a real human being, he's an angel. No one could be that perfect, that talented, that beautiful. Your jaw is wide open with amazement, and you feel like you could cry.

They take their bows as the crowd erupts with so much love and appreciation for Ateez. They start walking offstage and you go to meet and congratulate them. You scream and clap as they emerge one by one, making them look at you with exhausted adoration. As soon as you see Jongho you lunge towards him, looping your arms around his neck and squealing with excitement.

"Babyyyy oh my god that was amazing. I'm so so proud of you!!" You give him countless pecks across his cheeks as he holds you loosely. You pull back to see his face is pulled taut and jaw clenched, and you tilt your head in confusion.

"Love? What's wrong?" You ask with a pout.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds and takes a deep breath. He leans closer to your face and speaks with a barely recognizable voice.

"If I don't fuck your face right now I think I might explode." He says intensely.

Your eyes widen at his admission and you feel like you're hit with lightning from head to toe. You swallow thickly and attempt to speak but all that comes out is a jumble of words.

"Jongho w-why are you so intense?" All you feel at the moment is pure arousal, slick coating your thin underwear. He groans dramatically and hangs his head.

"I messed up and I'm so goddamn angry right now I can barely speak." He manages with gritted teeth.

"But you did-" Before you can finish your encouraging sentence he grabs your wrist and spins you around, holding it behind your back. He leads you towards an empty costume room and you can feel his solid body walking right behind you.

"Shut the fuck up and let me use your mouth. The only good use for it apparently." You comply immediately and let him handle you like a rag doll, enjoying every second of it. As soon as he locks the door, he throws you down to the floor and you look up at him with a wide eyed expression that is screaming "ruin me."

It would truly be a shame if he didn't complete your request, so really he's only being the generous and giving boyfriend that he is. You take fluttery breaths in anticipation and sit there looking so pretty and pliant for him.

He steps forward and with one hand caresses your cheek gently. You close your eyes in bliss and lean into his touch like an obedient kitten. That is until he delivers a harsh slap to the same worshipped cheek. You jolt in surprise and hiss at the sting his palm left, but you stay as still as possible to be a good girl for Jongho.

He smiles like he just won a reward. Maybe he did because the sight of you in front of him is enough to make him burst. He pulls down his pants low enough to pull his aching cock out, but still being mostly dressed. He's leaking so much precum that it's threatening to spill onto the floor and you have to resist the urge to just lick him clean immediately.

He hooks a thumb into your mouth, lifting your head backwards to a point of almost discomfort. The light bounces off of your glazed eyes, making them look like pools of desire and helplessness. He pushes down on your tongue and you don't waste any time wrapping your lips around his digit and giving him a preview of what's to come.

Patience running thin, he pulls his finger out of your soft mouth with a pop, and gathers your hair into one fist. With the other hand he guides his leaking member into your awaiting mouth. You instantly choke around him, somehow forgetting how thick he really is. You try to breathe calmly through your nose to control your gag reflex.

He slides in farther, reaching to the entrance of your throat. He gives an experimental thrust and goes through the restrictive barrier between your mouth and throat. You instinctively swallow around him, resulting in him throwing his head back and groaning. He loses all self control and starts using your throat according to his needs.

He sets a wild pace instantly, hips never stuttering. He hits the back of your throat so sharply that you're sure you'll have giant bruises leftover. Jongho seems to have ascended to a completely different world, with his eyes closed like he's enjoying a nice yoga session. You dig your fingernails into your palms, leaving crescent indents. You want to do your best for Jongho, be a stress reliever, be the best fucktoy he's ever had. It's as if he's read your mind, because in the next second he starts to degrade you to the point your head feels cloudy.

"Who's a good fucktoy? Yeah that's right, you are. Forever my little cumslut aren't you? God I love the way your mouth feels, I could fuck it forever." The only thing you can do is let out pathetic whimpers to confirm his words. You love being used by him, being his toy. As he nears his orgasm he goes even harder. He's now using your hair to pull you back and forth along his length, sending pleasurable sharp pain to your abused scalp.

Your nose meets his stomach and you're held there while Jongho's shooting his load into your throat. You sputter and gargle around him, releasing droplets around the side of your mouth. His stomach clenches in and out as he empties everything into you. As soon as he pulls you off of him you start to cough intensely. He immediately locates a water bottle to soothe your sore throat. You gulp it down greedily, savoring every precious drop.

He helps pull you up, and supports your wobbly form. Even if he treats you so roughly, you're always his princess first and foremost. He runs a gentle hand down your back, rubbing soothingly.

"Did I do too much, my love?" He whispers worriedly.

You shake your head assuredly. "No baby, you were perfect. You were perfect on stage too you know." You croak with a raised eyebrow. He laughs at your expression and softens up.

"Oh what did I do to deserve you? I just think the world of you sweetheart." He rests his head against your forehead, breathing deeply. Your heart beats loudly, feeling the flutter of a thousand butterflies inside. You break apart and give him a cheeky grin.

"I demand a bath and a massage." You raise your head defiantly, daring him to disagree. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief.

"You don't ever change oh my god. How about I do you one better? I'll give you a bath and massage while singing you your favorite songs. Followed up by some very cuddly cuddles. What do you think?" He asks.

"I think you have yourself a deal mister Choi best singer and performer Jongho." You give him a bow and he playfully smacks you.

"Alright alright, get it together." He pretends to grumble grumpily.

"Okayyy mister bear." You retort while running away.

"HEY.” He says while chasing after you.

#ateez #ateez smut #mingtinysworld #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #choi jongho #jongho #jongho smut

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unknownchildofnothing · 2 years

Text

Uhhh… hey guys?? I think I fucked up something in my _irl_settings?? Does anyone know how to uninstall the Nightmare option for sleep??

#I thing I accidentally left it on difficult setting and idk how to turn it down or off???#literally EVERYTIME I fall asleep early enough for a good full sleep- BAM!! NIGHTMARE!!!#I have work at 5am almost every morning- I can’t keep functioning off of 2-4 hours of sleep only to drag my exhausted body to a 8hr shift.#FUCK. IM WORKING HALLY HR TODAY. F U C K M E.#***HAPPY HOUR #SHIT. THAT MEANS IM PROBABLY WORKING AT LEAST 10 HRS TODAY. F U C K.#AT. L E A S T. 10HRS #GODDAMN GUYS- I GOTTA BE AWAKE IN 3 HRS FOR A 10HR SHIFT AND I GOT MAYBR AN HOUR OF SLEEP UNDER MY BELT?????#h e l p.

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kitten4sannie · 4 months

Text

ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ɪɴ

ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ/ᴅᴀᴄʀʏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ ➠ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ

pairing: bf! yunho x fem! reader

genre: smut

summary: your boyfriend has a surprise for you.

w.c: 2.7k

warnings: hard dom! yunho, sub! reader, big dick yunnie, mc and yunho are both perverts here <3, sexting, brief implied voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation, yunnie wears a balaclava ^^ so mask kink!!, cnc roleplay, glove kink?? idk, name calling, pet names, praise, degradation, dirty talk, fingering, oral (giving/receiving), fingering, squirting, deep-throating, choking, breath play, throatpie

a/n: you can’t tell me that the guy in the banner doesn’t look like yunho hehe. so yeah this is one of my top fantasies and i almost lost my goddamn mind during the writing process >< enjoy my loves!!!

Now Playing:

ᴍᴀꜱᴄᴀʀᴀ ʙʏ ᴅᴇꜰᴛᴏɴᴇꜱ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

After work one night, you found yourself coming home to a dark, empty house, not finding your boyfriend on the couch playing one of his favorite video games, which was unusual. The only thing that accompanied the silence was the occasional booming clap of thunder, millions of rain droplets hitting the roof of your house, flashes of lightning temporarily brightening up your living room through the sliding glass windows.

You took off your shoes and settled into the couch, turning on the TV to unwind. A few minutes passed, allowing you to fully relax, feeling your eyes grow heavy the longer you listened to the almost hypnotic sound of heavy rainfall. It wasn’t until your phone vibrated that you snapped out of it. You pulled your phone out of your pocket just in time to see the screen light up with a new message from your boyfriend.

ɪ’ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴀʙʏ. ɢᴏᴛ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ꜰᴜɴ ^^ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴜʀᴘʀɪꜱᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ♡ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ♡

ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ.ᴘɴɢ

Yunho had sent you a photo of himself inside a stall at his workplace bathroom, his pants pooled around his hips, his belt splayed open, one of his hands pulling the lip of his boxers down enough so that he could comfortably hold his hard, heavy cock, clear drops of pre-cum visibly dripping down along the sizable vein that led from his reddened cockhead to his balls.

Fuck. So much for falling asleep. Now, you were wired. And was Yunho referring to that surprise? If he was, then you had a lot to be looking forward to that night.

The image of Yunho holding his leaking cock stuck inside your mind like glue as you sifted through your toy collection inside your bedroom, trying to find something that would satiate the ache you felt in between your legs. Before you knew it, you had managed to grab your favorite toy. “Gotcha, bitch,” you mused to yourself, pulling out the clone-a-cock your boyfriend had bought for you. He filled the mold himself and everything, awarding you with a thick, nine inch suction-cup replica of his cock that you could use to fuck yourself dumb with whenever he wasn’t around. And there was no time better than the present.

Once you threw on one of Yunho’s oversized t-shirts and a simple pair of panties, you made your way back into the living room, dildo and lube in hand, and a big perverted smile on your face. You stuck the dildo directly onto the glass of the sliding door, gazing past the streaks of rain and staring at the trees and foliage that lined your backyard. You could’ve sworn you saw something shuffling around inside one of the bushes, squinting your eyes a bit more, when your phone vibrated again.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ? ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ʀɴ? ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏᴄᴋ ᴡᴀꜱ ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?

ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ.ᴍᴘ3

Instead of a still image, Yunho provided you with a ninety second clip of him spitting into his hand and vigorously jerking himself off inside the stall, panting harshly into the mic, groaning out, “Y/N, fuck, babyyy,” until his words morphed into small, staccato moans, his hand squeezing around his cockhead just as spurts of liquid shot out and landed on his phone, creating a milky film over the camera lens before the clip ended.

It seemed like Yunho was trying to drive you insane on purpose. Was that video your surprise? What else did you have to look forward to? The anticipation of what was to come filled you with adrenaline, lust, and clear desperation, already finding yourself with two hands around the long dildo that was hanging off of the glass, lubing it up with the water based warming gel you had previously squirted into your hands. Without wasting another second, you positioned yourself on your knees away from the window and pulled your shorts to the side, before you pushed back onto the thick silicone cock, moaning out as it filled you up.

You fucked yourself to your heart’s content, driving yourself back over and over again, wishing you were getting pounded by your boyfriend, knowing he would manipulate your body like a doll’s to get you in the positon he wanted to fuck your brains out in. It felt so good to get filled up, you almost forgot to return Yunho’s message with a video of your own, one that showcased the way your cunt swallowed the toy as you rammed yourself back onto it, your hooded eyes gazing at the camera, your mouth forming an ‘o’, Yunho’s name gracing your lips. You hit send and dropped your phone onto the carpet to concentrate on reaching your high.

Just as you were about to cum, a sudden flash of white went across your dark living room, causing your heart to stop momentarily. Something inside you told you that it wasn’t just a sudden bout of lightning, though the logical side of you told you otherwise. Either way, the build up of your orgasm began to fade away, encouraging you to slide off of the dripping dildo and check your phone, realizing you got a text from Yunho.

ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴠɪᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɪꜱ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏᴄᴋ ᴛʜʀᴏʙ ʙᴀʙʏ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛ

ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴠɪᴇᴡ ♡

ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ.ᴘɴɢ

Your heart skipped one too many beats as your trembling fingers opened the image, seeing a voyeur’s view of your solo sexcapades in action, the flash clearly on due to the bright reflection in the window inside the 4K photo. Was this the surprise Yunho was talking about? Was he outside all along, getting off on you pleasuring yourself with what was supposed to be his cock?

It was then that you heard a soft knocking sound coming from the other side of the sliding door. Your eyes darted up, seeing the dark outline of a tall man standing on the opposite side of the glass, just a foot away from you. What was even more frighteningly arousing was that the man was faceless, wearing a balaclava to hide his identity.

You screamed instinctively, dropping your phone, unable to get up from the floor from how shocked you were, especially once the glass door began to slide open, the sound of rainfall even louder than before, the cold night air sending a slew of chill bumps across your exposed flesh.

“Surprise, baby, I’m breaking in,” Yunho said in a low, almost melodic tone, one that he only used when he was in a special headspace, one that you mutually enjoyed. “I’m tired of seeing you play with your pussy like that. I want in.”

“Go away! G-get out of here!” you yelled out, playing the part, your pulse quickening as you reached for a throw pillow that was sitting on the couch and tossed it at Yunho, doing your best to get up and get away from him.

You barely made it to the hallway when Yunho grabbed you by the hair and pushed your head and chest into the wall, pressing himself against your ass, allowing you to feel just how hard he was underneath his damp joggers. “I-i can feel how hard you are…It’s disgusting…”

Yunho groaned at your mean words, slowly rubbing his cock against the curve of your ass, chuckling at the way you automatically arched your back. “Now, now. Don’t pretend you’re not soaking wet for me, little slut. Your little body’s just begging me to use it.” He squeezed your tits through your shirt, making you jolt.

“No, don’t touch me there,” you whined pathetically, arching more into his touch.

Yunho nuzzled his face into your neck, taking a deep inhale of your warm, flowery scent, letting out a low ‘mmm’ onto your skin. “But, baby, you’re just asking to be touched when you wear something this thin, you know? Just look at the way it’s showing off your cute little tits. Shows just how needy you are,” he mused huskily into your ear, reaching around your body to grope at your tits through your oversized t-shirt, rubbing your nipples in slow, teasing circles, occasionally squeezing them roughly, feeling them harden up underneath his gloved finger tips, eliciting an unmistakable moan from you. “Oh, that’s it, huh? Like it rough, baby?”

“Sh-shut up…” you whispered, melting into him the longer he groped and pulled at your tits, feeling his cock throb periodically against your ass, his hands slowly moving down your abdomen to your hips, then down to your inner thighs, his fingers ghosting over your bare pussy through your sleep shorts.

“Mm, you wouldn’t be showing off this cute little cunt of yours if you didn’t want someone like me to play with it, either. If you didn’t want to be violated like this…” Yunho continued, appearing to breathe a little harder than before, rubbing your clit up and down, your shorts so nonexistent that his fingers found your plump, wet folds, the both of you able to hear how slick you were. “Jesus, you’re so fucking wet, baby. You like that I’m taking what I want?”

“N-no…” you lied in a soft, breathy voice, your cheek smushed against the wall from the way Yunho had you pinned against it, suddenly finding yourself being spun around so that you had to face the masked man, just as he slipped two long, gloved fingers into your cunt up to the knuckle, Yunho parting his lips just as you did, moaning along with you once he began to roughly finger-fuck you.

“Oh, baby, you’re such a bad liar…I can feel your pretty cunt squeezing hard around my fingers…Must feel good to be filled like this after trying so hard to cum around a fake cock. You must be aching for the real thing, aren’t you, Y/N?”

“P-pleaseee…stop…” It was when Yunho curled his thrusting fingers that you tossed your head back against the wall, your thighs squeezing together. Yunho forced his knee in between them to keep them open, causing more slick to drip down his veiny forearm and onto the wood floor below.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you think you’re in control,” Yunho sighed out, slowly lowering himself to his knees, not ceasing the violent movement of his squelching fingers for even a second. Your garbled little ‘mm-hmm’ made Yunho chuckle, lifting the bottom of his balaclava to expose the lower half of his face, bringing his nose to your clit, bumping it lightly against it as he inhaled your scent, lapping up the heavy wetness that dripped down your slit. “Mm, is my dirty little slut going to cum on my face?”

“Y-eesssss…” As soon as Yunho slipped a third finger inside your cunt and stretched you out, your eyes rolled back, your body jolting against the wall, a spray of arousal shooting out of you and coating the bottom of Yunho’s partially masked face. He caught your squirt on his lips and tongue, moaning just from tasting your abundant arousal.

“Good girl, that’s such a good girl,” Yunho praised you breathily, slipping his fingers out of you and spreading you open with his thumbs instead, so that he could noisily slurp your juices down his parched throat.

Whining, you held his head down, pulling the balaclava off in the process to see his flushed, pretty face in its entirety, his soaked hair clinging to his forehead. “Feels so good, Yunnie…” you sighed, completely blissed out, rubbing your cunt along his lips and tongue once he stuck it out.

“A-aaaah, such a naughty girl,” Yunho said with his mouth full, tonguing your cunt the best he could, using his fingers to rub your stiff clit in harsh circles until another wave of clear liquid splashed onto his face, some of it dripping along his bobbing throat, drinking down your arousal like he needed it to live. “Fucking hell, baby, I’m so hard right now…”

“Give me your cock, Yunho. I need it right now. Please,” you begged your boyfriend, who was still leaving licks and kisses over your pulsing cunt.

Yunho eventually stood up, giving his lips a good lick, bringing his hands up around your head, slowly pushing you down until you were on your knees before him, your head pressed into the wall. “I’ll give you my cock, baby…Give it to you nice and deep…”

You watched with wide eyes as Yunho lowered his joggers and pulled out his leaking cock, catching the heavy tip on your tongue when he slapped it down. “In my throat?” you whispered, reaching up to place your hands on his slender hips.

“Good girl,” Yunho praised, patting you on the head, before clutching it tightly with one hand, rubbing his cockhead around your face and lips, leaving a taste of bitter pre-cum on your lips. “Since I made you cum that hard, I deserve to fuck your tight little throat just as hard and leave you with a tummy full of cum, don’t I? It’s only fair.”

“I don’t swallow,” you lied, shaking your head, delighted by the way Yunho opened your jaw with his free hand and force fed you his oversized cock until your mouth was fully stuffed.

“You’re gonna learn to swallow today, little slut. Now take my cock,” Yunho chuckled darkly, creating a makeshift ponytail around his fist, before he expertly sent his hips forward, driving his heavy cock into your mouth and down your willing throat.

You moaned and gurgled on his rapidly moving cock, your throat making a new, much more obscene sound the longer he drove your face into his pelvis, his pubic hair tickling the tip of your nose, tears forming inside your eyes. “Mmmnnnn…”

“Oh my god, are you crying just for me, princess?” Yunho suddenly groaned, his cock pulsing inside your bulging throat, tugging roughly at your hair, keeping you pinned against the wall, only allowing you to take exactly what he decided to give you, which, this time, was a brutal throat fuck. “Why are you crying, baby? Cuz’ my cock’s down your throat? Does it feel that good?”

All you could was let out choked, muddled moans, your hands squeezing into Yunho’s moving hips, your mind positively blank, the only thing you could focus on in the moment was one of Yunho’s gloved hands expertly wrapping around your throat to diminish your airways, leaving you pleasantly dizzy, your eyes rolling upwards.

“I know how much my pretty girl loves to be choked. Wanna choke on my cum next?” your boyfriend mused softly, in between pants, smiling fondly down at you, a few drops of either sweat or rain landing on your face below, rubbing your tears away from your watery eyes, smearing your mascara down your cheek bones until Yunho’s hips began to stutter, more thick globs of pre-cum leaking down your throat. “Fuck, here it comes, it’s all for you, baby…”

Just as you began to swallow the obscene load of cum down your throat, Yunho pinched your nose, leading you to look up at him, more tears escaping your eyes, beginning to choke.

“You can do it, baby…Go on and swallow for me…” Yunho whispered under his breath, clearly getting off on the way you struggled to breath with his load pouring into your raw throat.

With your heart and cunt pounding incessantly, you gulped down the rest of your boyfriend’s load without hesitation, a few coughs bubbling out of you once Yunho let you go. “Holy fuck…” you exhaled, your gravelly voice proof of how you had been used.

“Was that everything you dreamed of, my love?” Yunho asked softly, taking his soiled gloves off to caress your cheek lovingly, idly pushing a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” you replied instantly, nuzzling into his head, looking up at him with your big doe eyes. “Though…I need one more thing.”

Yunho gave you a sweet smile, gently rubbing his thumb along your cheek. “What’s that, princess?”

You pouted a bit. “Your cock. I wanna be fucked raw, Yunnie…”

“I hear you, princess.” And with that, Yunho picked you up and hoisted you over his shoulder, making you squeak with delight, giving your ass a good squeeze on the way to your bedroom.

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