#perky jackson

[inwhichiramble]

Welp. After six years, I think it’s finally time to reread Percy Jackson and the Olympians

[tarragonthedragon]

i keep seeing people criticising tv shows and movies by being like "i thought x character was bad but im NOT BLAMING the actor i think the actor is GREAT and WONDERFUL i blame the WRITERS and DIRECTORS"

usually this is directed at female characters and characters of colour and like while i understand the impulse to not dunk on actors and actresses who are more likely to be receiving really shitty hate comments just for existing i do think a) the attacks on writers and directors are also really mean and personal sometimes? and also b) this feels incredibly performative

[calluminum]

Persabeth vs Perkabeth debate is going on and all i can think of is how in Amphibia fandom, the Marsanne vs Markanne debate led to the creation of Marky Wu. So by this logic, we’re probably gonna end up with the creation of Perky Jackson or something 😭

[campercabeth]

There is a right and wrong answer btw 💜💜💜

[romqnticstylez]

LITERALLY. THOSE TWO ARE ABOVE THE PERKABETH PPL FOR A REASON

[whimsyprinx]

ever since I saw that poll that was like “how do you percabeth” with one or the options being “perk-a-beth” I’ve been referring to percy as perky

[gimmethatagustd]

pretty please | jjk

Jungkook is hopelessly in love. He's not shy about it.

○ Pairing: Ex-Boyfriend!Jungkook x Reader

○ Rating: Mature

○ Genre: Exes to lovers, a hint of angst, fluff (?)

○ Word Count: 865

○ Warnings: Kissing, that annoying thing when your nips pop out cuz it's cold outside, JK being a Loser Boy In Love, written for @realityiagons

○ Notes: I'm so proud of myself for actually writing a REAL drabble under 1k like !!!!! CRAZY !!!

○ Post Date: July 9, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? Pretty Please - Jackson Wang & Galantis

“Can I kiss you?”

Jungkook thinks he sounds desperate when he asks the question, can hardly stop himself from adding, “Pretty please,” to the end of it.

He supposes it’s too late to worry about appearances. Any ounce of dignity he had left is a puddle on the ground, mixing in with the rainwater rushing along the sides of the road. It’s such a quiet night that Jungkook can hear the rushing sound of water pouring into the sewers at the end of the street.

You roll your eyes, arms crossed against your chest to hide the perky outline of your nipples poking through your thin hoodie. It’s too dark to notice them; Jungkook only sees because you’re standing under the pale yellow glow of the streetlamp Jungkook is perched on.

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Consent is sexy,” he insists.

Jungkook wants to be silly and roll his eyes, too, but they’re wide, round, and utterly eager, waiting to track each breathy inhale that lifts your shoulders and the twitch of your cheek when you try to suppress a smile.

You take a step back, and Jungkook leans forward. Your gravitational pull is the only thing ever keeping him grounded — and just barely. His leather boots slide down the slippery base of the streetlamp, which he stands on with one hand wrapped around the wet pole to keep himself from slipping completely off the base and onto his ass. He likes to think he looks like Gene Kelly, hoping to woo you back with his pretty singing voice while raindrops trickle into his eyes and drip off the tip of his nose.

“We’re wet.”

“It’s refreshing.”

You slip your fingers under the edge of your hood like you’re checking your hairline for the disaster you assume is there. “It’s ruining my hair.”

“You’re always pretty,” Jungkook insists, hanging onto your every move just like he’s hanging from the streetlamp.

Jungkook adjusts his grip on the pole. His wet skin rubbing against the wet metal makes a sound that’s awfully reminiscent of a fart. He does it again, just to hear you laugh, head thrown back far enough for your hood to fall off.

It’s sweet until your face suddenly falls, and your laughter dies on your lips — lips Jungkook knows taste sweet, knows feel just as soft as they look. He doesn’t have to imagine what it would be like to kiss them or to be kissed by them, to have them explore his body like he’s something worth finding out.

He remembers.

Sometimes, he wonders if that’s more painful than having to imagine.

“Why’d you follow me out here, Jungkook?” You frown, even as a shiver runs through your body. You wouldn't be so cold if you’d just let him hold you.

“I miss you,” Jungkook says softly. He finally lets go of the streetlamp and hops onto the ground. Muddy water splashes against his ankles, but he doesn’t worry about soiling his cuffed jeans. He can only put his energy into watching you chew at your bottom lip, knowing it means you’re nervous, not because of him, but because of how you feel about him.

“We shouldn’t.” You turn your head, giving Jungkook your cheek when he leans in slightly. He can’t tell if it’s a silent invitation for another kind of kiss or if you really are done with him.

“I know,” Jungkook agrees.

You lace your fingers with his anyway.

Jungkook has never kissed anyone in the rain before. It’s only sprinkling by now, the two of you having gotten caught in the storm at the tail-end, you barging out of the nightclub the moment you saw Jungkook with a girl around his arm. It’s only been a few months since your breakup. You haven’t moved on, and you didn’t give him the chance to admit that he hasn’t, either.

He doesn't think you've ever experienced a kiss in the rain. It's romantic, cliché, and seems like the kind of magical moment you would only share with each other.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he likes it so much.

Maybe it’s because of how you shiver when he pulls you against his chest, both your bodies siphoning heat from one another until you’re creating warmth from the friction between you. He pushes when you pull, making your bodies sway, and your feet stir more puddles when you rock on your tiptoes to keep up with the desperate way he kisses you.

He’s all hands, finding the curve of your jaw and the dip of your waist, then mapping the expanse of your back and cradling your head.

Your lips glide together, wet from rainwater and spit because you love kissing with tongue, and Jungkook will take anything you give him. He’s a puppy, so starry-eyed and lost, trailing behind you with a “pretty please” nestled on his lips, waiting to be devoured.

“I miss you,” Jungkook repeats against your lips, breathy and with his eyes closed.

You run your fingers through his soaked hair to flip the strands off his forehead and out of his face.

“I miss you, too.”

And you believe each other, just like always.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). 

[thriftedtchotchkes]

old dogs don't change

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: weeks after sleeping together, your no-strings-attached agreement goes up in flames when joel goes on a date with another woman. you make sure that never happens again. (sequel to keep it on the low)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, ex-boyfriend!joel, jackson era, tlou 2 jesse appearance, age gap, hurt, angst, smut, unprotected piv, post-breakup sex, rough sex, public sex, rough oral (m!receiving), exhibitionism, possessive behavior, jealousy, alcohol use, briefly dating other people

word count: 10.6k

You have no idea who she is, but you bet she’s a total bitch. Is that mean? Maybe. Do you give a shit? Nope.

To be fair, you’d probably say that about anyone Joel started dating after you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be true. Sure, you've never actually talked to her…or seen her before in your entire life, but that’s beside the point. She’s cute and bubbly, and everything you’re not, and that’s the point. 

It’s honestly a little comical how different the two of you are, and you can’t help but wonder if Tommy did that on purpose. You know he was the one who set them up. Everyone in the dining hall was talking about it this morning. The latest, hottest piece of gossip, bouncing from table to table like a cruel game of telephone. 

He probably thinks he’s protecting his big brother, but you think he needs to mind his own fucking business. It’s not like he knows anything about your relationship, not really. Well. It’s not your relationship anymore, is it? And Tommy, along with everyone else in this town, blames you for that.

Poor Joel, dumped by the biggest bitch in Jackson, who took advantage of his kindness and patience for years, and broke his heart when all he did was love her. Selfish, cold, and uncaring. Nothing like the pretty, perky girl sitting next to him in the booth they’re sharing at Seth’s. 

If only they knew what really happened.

The bar is especially busy, even for a Saturday night, so you figure no one’ll notice you blatantly glaring at them. It’s not like you care, anyway. You’re feeling warm and loose, and maybe a little too tipsy for your own good, but tonight, you get to do whatever the fuck you want. 

Because Joel’s sitting ten feet away with his arm slung around another woman, and it hurts. 

It sucks way worse than him avoiding you since the last time you slept together, after all of the things you did and said on that couch. The things he said. You shoo away the thought with another swig of beer, wishing you were drinking something stronger. It's for the best. 

If you get any drunker, you’ll probably end up doing something stupid, and the last thing you need is to prove everyone right that he’s better off without you. But you can’t seem to shake the anger that’s starting to simmer below the surface. 

With the emotional toll this night has already taken, you kind of don’t want to. So, you surrender to it. Fuck him. He’s a piece of shit for parading his new girl around right in front of you, and for breaking off your agreement without so much as a word. 

If he wanted to see other people, he should’ve opened his mouth and used his big boy words. Then again, he’s always been terrible at that, so why are you surprised? 

Maybe he’ll fuck her tonight. Touch her all of the ways you like because that’s all he knows anymore. She’ll moan for him, soft and sweet, gentle in her affection, just like she’s touching him right now. But it won’t satisfy him, and when he’s panting on top of her, chasing that all-consuming release only you can give him, you know he’ll be pretending she's you. 

Asshole.

You’re still watching them, shooting daggers from your spot at the bar, when your wish from earlier is granted. Two overflowing shot glasses topped with lime are placed in front of you, and you look up to see a very attractive dark-haired, brown-eyed man smirking down at you.

"Looked a little lonely over here," he says in a raspy baritone even lower than Joel's. He clinks the top of your beer bottle with the bottom of his own. "Thought you could use some company, maybe another drink."

Well, he’s right. You could use some company, and you’d love another drink. There’s no harm in having a little fun, right? If Joel’s doing it, then there’s nothing stopping you.

"So, both of these are for me, then?" you smile coyly, reaching for one. He nods, his own smile widening.

"Could be. Can I join ya?" he gestures to the empty stool next to you. 

He has this cocky look on his face like he already knows you'll say yes, and in your inebriated state, you think it's kind of hot. It reminds you of Joel when you first met. How he knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn't give up until it was his. Until you were his.

You consider him for a moment. He’s young, maybe even younger than you, and obviously confident enough to make a move on you. Fleetingly, you think he might end up being that stupid thing you do tonight, but then you down one of the shots and decide you don't actually care. 

What turns out to be tequila burns the entire way down, and you immediately pick up a slice of lime. You’re hyperaware of the way his eyes lock onto your mouth as you suck on the sour fruit, lingering when a droplet of juice dribbles down your chin. 

It’s not a total surprise when he reaches up to thumb it away, but you are taken off guard by how strange it makes you feel. The pad of his finger is disappointingly smooth, no weathering or even a hint of a callus. You're not sure why that matters to you, but you can take a decent guess.

You chance a glance over at Joel's table and, of course, you have his full attention now. His entire body looks tense, from his hand clenched on the table to the prominent vein bulging angrily in his neck. 

Good. Now he knows how it feels.

Looking back up at your mystery guy, you run your tongue along your bottom lip, catching any remaining lime before you finally give him an answer. 

"Sure. Pop a squat, cowboy," you giggle. It doesn't even sound like you and feels wrong the second it passes your lips, but as long as Joel heard it, that's all that matters. "You got a name?"

He replies, but you're too busy keeping an eye on Joel in your peripheral to catch what he says. In the back of your mind, you think that’s probably a good thing. You'd rather not know, especially if you do end up taking him home. 

Mystery guy laughs at your noncommittal hum and you realize you’ve been caught. But he doesn’t seem upset. It’s clear he’s amused by your obvious interest elsewhere and that piques your curiosity. 

Any other guy here would’ve been pissed by your apathy, especially if they’d bothered to buy you a drink that you accepted, but apparently not this one.

He sits down on the stool next to you, pulling it close enough that his knee presses against yours. You unconsciously lean into him, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite your growing unease.

He's...baffling. A total enigma. You can’t figure out what his deal is or why he’s choosing to keep pursuing you when your eyes have been glued to another man all night. 

The thought of letting this continue long enough to find out is a little thrilling. Might as well see where this goes. If it escalates, you’re more than confident in your ability to care of yourself.

But it happens sooner than you expect. His hand finds the back of your stool and, then, his lips are suddenly right next to your cheek. You can feel the warmth of them as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear.

“Look, not try'na to overstep, but…,” his eyes dart to where Joel’s sitting, unreservedly ignoring his date. The poor thing barely notices, chattering away about something not nearly as important to him as watching you. His gaze returns to you, and you can feel him smirking. “You wanna make that guy you've been staring at all night jealous?"

That’s—wow. You didn’t see that one coming. He’s got a lot of audacity to assume that’s something you’d want, let alone offer…what? His services? 

But, then again, he isn’t wrong. Joel’s been the only thing on your mind since you walked into Seth’s tonight and saw him with her. He’s always on your mind if you’re being totally honest with yourself. It’s plain to see, obvious to every single person in this bar including the man himself.

You eye your mystery guy curiously for a second before nodding, your lips quirking into a small smirk. Maybe it’s time to prove to Joel and everyone else in this judgmental town that you’ve moved on, too. That you’re not the sad, bitter shrew that deserves to be alone.

"Yeah, actually, I do," you reply cautiously. But there's still one lingering question that has yet to be answered. "I just…why? I don’t get why you’re helping me. What are you getting out of this?”

He shrugs, and somehow you can just tell by the look in his eyes that there’s no hidden agenda. You’re not sure how you’re just noticing, but he has kind eyes. This whole time, he’s been nothing but patient and attentive, like Joel always was—...is? 

Was.

You almost wish you could fall for someone like this man instead of pathetically clinging to your past. Maybe you’ll at least get a friend out of this crazy night, if nothing else. But then you remember one, tiny problem with that idea.

“Can you tell me your name again? I promise you have my full attention this time,” you smile sheepishly. He chuckles good-naturedly and, again, doesn’t seem to hold it against you.

“It’s Jesse,” he says with a deep, southern drawl you should probably be more attracted to. “And let’s just say I know how it feels to want someone ya can’t have.”

You nod slowly, understanding perfectly. Except—you didn't realize up until this moment that that's exactly what you want. Someone you can't ever have. 

And it took seeing Joel with someone else, his body pressed up against a woman that isn't you, to realize it. Well, that fucking sucks.

You decide not to ask about Jesse's situation. It's not your business and, anyway, you're both trying to feel better about your circumstances, not worse. 

There’s a silent sense of camaraderie between you that tells you to throw caution to the wind. Tossing back the second shot, you turn your stool to face his, literally and figuratively turning your back on Joel. 

“It’s really nice to meet you, Jesse,” you murmur, and you genuinely mean it. He grins, leaning in slowly, still giving you time to back out if you want to, but you don't. 

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller. This one's for you.

"S'nice to meet you, too," he replies softly. 

Then, his lips are on yours. The kiss is wet and open-mouthed, and yet he handles you so delicately. He cradles your face in his hands as his tongue brushes against yours, and you moan softly into his mouth, letting your body get lost in the way he feels. And he feels so—

Much different than Joel. 

All you can think about is how much you miss Joel's rough touch, the way he'd thread his fingers through your hair and tug you into his mouth, nearly devouring you whole. Joel kissed you like every time might be the last, right up until it actually was. 

Fucking hell, why can't you just enjoy this without him ruining it for you?

You try to forget about it, about him, licking into Jesse's mouth a little more aggressively, and he groans, his body eager and responsive. It's probably more than you should be doing in public, sitting at a bar surrounded by people but, hell, you want them to see. 

They can say whatever they want about you. You're done giving a shit.

And, boy, will they have a lot to talk about after tonight. Joel makes sure of that. It happens so fast, you barely register that Jesse’s lips aren’t on yours anymore like they should be.

One moment, Jesse's hands are trailing down your sides to your waist, and the next, he's being forcibly dragged off you. Between you stands a broad, imposing figure ensuring you stay separated.

Your mind goes blank, and all you can do is watch in shock and disbelief as Joel lets loose on him, his words possessive and almost nonsensical. 

"The fuck you think you're doin' touchin' her like that? Y'need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself, kid, before ya get yourself in trouble," he grits out angrily. 

To his credit, Jesse stays cool and collected, but it’s not enough. There’s already a few pairs of eyes on you, drawn by the physical altercation, and it won’t be long before the rest of the bar notices the impending fight.

"Respectfully, sir, s'long as the lady consents, I'll put my hands wherever she wants," Jesse replies, standing his ground. He tries to move around him to return to your side, but Joel fixes him with a look that sends a shiver down your spine.

"S'that really a good idea?" Joel sounds menacing and looks even more so the longer the conversation continues. 

You’re still numb to everything unfolding in front of you and it’s not until Jesse’s next to you again, snaking an arm around your waist, that you finally come to. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks and now you’re mad. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Jesse cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“There a reason it wouldn’t be?” he turns the question back on Joel and you tense, anticipating a less-than-friendly answer. Jesse squeezes your hip in reassurance, but it does nothing to soothe your unease. He doesn’t know Joel like you do.

“Kid, do I look like I’m fuckin’ around? Take your hands off her and walk away. M'not gonna tell you again,” he all but growls, taking a threatening step forward. 

Neither of you back down. Jesse’s arm stays firm around you as your nails bite into your palm. It's taking everything you've got not to make a bigger scene than you already have.

You knew it. Since the breakup, you’ve been trying to reconcile this increasingly unfamiliar man with the Joel you gave your entire heart to all those years ago. With each passing month, the differences between the two become more and more obvious.

He's angrier now and has so much less patience. It's not that he's unkind. You know that no matter what his circumstances are, Joel will continue to be a good man. But he has a hair trigger, especially when it comes to you. 

And he wants. God, he always wants you. It’s not that you didn’t have an active sex life before everything fell apart. He just...fucks you differently now. Possessively and without restraint, like he needs to be sure you're satisfied enough to never need anyone else. The agreement to keep sleeping together was actually his idea. And it worked for a while—until it suddenly didn't. 

Now, you're forced to come face-to-face with that reality. Sitting at this bar, you spent the entirety of the night believing he'd decided he didn't want you anymore, that he was ready to find happiness in something simpler than sneaking around with his ex.

Except, it's starting to feel like maybe that's not as true as he made it seem. Like he never should've gone on this date in the first place.

"What the fuck, Joel?" you hiss, fighting to keep your volume under control. Not that it matters. The entire bar is staring at you, their eyes ping-ponging back and forth like they're watching a tennis match. "Back the fuck off. Now. This is none of your business."

"The hell it ain't my business. Some kid's runnin' his hands all over another man's girl and y'think that ain't my business?" 

His trembling hands clench into fists at his sides and, while you’re betting the rest of the bar thinks he’s preparing for a fight, that isn’t Joel. It might be you, though, if he keeps this up.

"Excuse me? And whose girl am I—yours? Because I'm pretty sure your girl is sitting over there in that booth. Or did you forget about your date?"

For a moment, he actually has the nerve to look ashamed, like he feels bad about leaving her all alone at their table and for humiliating her in front of all these people. He avoids her crestfallen gaze, likely not ready to face the hurt he’s caused. 

But it only lasts for a second before his eyes darken again, focused solely on you. As if Jesse, his pretty date, and everyone else in this bar disappeared, and it's just you and him. This conversation doesn't include them anymore. It's a private matter now.

"We're leavin'," he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

He should know better. That's not how things work with you. You’re a fighter, a trait he’s always loved about you, even if your ire was directed at him. Back then, it rarely was.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm leaving with you," you scoff bitterly. "Go back to your date, I'll go back to mine, and we can forget about this. All of it. We're done, Joel."

He shakes his head, mouth tipping down into a frown like he's thinking something over. Then, he huffs out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, and you start to think maybe he really has lost his mind.

"Y'know, I really don't think we are, darlin'," he drawls dangerously. 

He's on you in an instant, his hand wrapped tightly around your arm as he drags you out of the bar. You briefly consider resisting, but he's moving too quickly. All of those shots you downed combined with the beer you drank earlier go straight to your head, and you're suddenly overwhelmingly distracted by the feeling of his skin on yours.

Fuck, it feels like it's been so long. In reality, you know it's only been a few weeks but, god, you missed it. His hands on your body, anywhere at all on your body. You'd hate how quickly you forget about Jesse if you could think about anything else but those familiar, rough fingertips.

The way they dig into you, reminiscent of how he'd squeeze your thighs or clutch your waist when he was making love to you.

...Wait, what? No...no, fuck. Why is he making this so difficult? Why—Christ...why can't you just leave each other alone? If he never planned on letting you go, he shouldn't have broken up with you. And if he still wanted you this badly...all he had to do was ask. You would've said yes in a heartbeat.

So, you let him steal you away, out into the brisk, wintry air that does little to cool your fury or the heat beginning to coil in your belly. The door shuts noisily behind you, and you immediately wrench your arm out of his grasp before he can say a word. It's your turn to talk now.

"What is wrong with you? You can't just...fuck, you can't do shit like this!" You're seething, practically shaking in your rage, and his expression doesn't look much different. 

"And you can? I dunno what the hell you were thinkin' gettin’ cozy with some goddamn kid, lettin’ him touch ya like that in front of the whole town," he reiterates harshly. He's starting to sound like a broken record. It's the only leverage he's got, and you both know it's flimsy at best.

"Some kid? Jesse's a fucking adult, clearly more mature than you," you bite back. "And it’s a bar, Joel. That's what people do at bars."

Joel scoffs, and you can tell he hates the way Jesse's name falls from your lips. Especially when those lips were on yours not even ten minutes ago. 

"And who are you to decide who can and can't touch me? You broke up with me," you continue resentfully. "You don't get a say anymore."

At that, his face becomes unreadable. He didn't need the reminder, and you know that, but it needed to be said for both of your sakes. Sometimes you think maybe he actually forgets it was his choice to give you up. That he didn't realize his decision would hurt you as much as it hurt him.

"So, what? You gonna take him home then, let him fuck ya?" He leans in close, so close you can feel his soft, graying curls against your temple and the coarse drag of his beard across your cheek. 

"Kiss ya here—," a finger trails delicately down the side of your neck to his spot above your collarbone, then continues down to where you've been aching for him for weeks, "—taste ya here." 

You slap his hand away before he can get any further, but your reaction only spurs him on. How could you forget? He likes that.

"Y'know he can't make ya feel as good as I do. Fuck you just how y'like it, make ya cum as hard as I do," he drawls confidently, almost smugly, in your ear. "Don't ya?"

It's less a question than a statement, because you both know he's right. Joel knows your body better than anyone ever has, maybe even better than you know it yourself. Just as much as you know his. And it's sort of funny. You were thinking the exact same thing about him with his date earlier.

"Sure, Joel. Just like you were gonna take that girl home, right?" You raise an eyebrow, turning your head so your lips graze his skin. "Pretty little thing like her, I bet she likes it slow and romantic. She’ll probably even stick around for a snuggle and some pillow talk. You'd love that.”

Even as you mock him, the sneer marring your face doesn’t quite meet your eyes, and the spiteful nature of your words tastes acrid as they pass your lips. He’s so good at that. Always able to bring out the worst in you to prove his point—that he’s no good for you.

But you stand firm, your chest pressed flush against his in a show of determination. You're still in control here, unlike Joel, whose fingers are twitching noticeably at his sides like he's just itching to get his hands on you again. 

"Maybe I would. Liked it with you, didn't I?" he murmurs wistfully, and that catches you completely off guard.

His words are almost too gentle to belong in this argument, and it doesn’t feel fair. What's worse, he looks like he means them. You’d prefer the fight, the aggression of the man who dragged you out of the bar. Not this. Not these traces of your Joel. 

You can already feel your resolve slipping, and the rapid thrum of your heartbeat tells you to let it. When his hands finally take their rightful place on your waist, he’s in control again.

The cool evening air is suddenly stifling, and you’re starting to feel like you’re suffocating, your thoughts a jumbled, heated haze of anger and fear and want. He squeezes hard enough to pull your hips into his and you unintentionally buck, allowing his hands to travel up your shirt. 

There's an intensity to his gaze, tinged with an unexpected tenderness. He almost looks...sated. Fulfilled, now that you're back in his arms. But not completely, not yet.

"You still haven't answered my question," he mutters. His hands splay across your ribcage, high enough for his thumbs to tease the undersides of your breasts.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, sliding your hands up his chest to push him away so you can catch your breath, but your body won't cooperate. It's been well-trained to crave his touch. Exhaling sharply through your nose, you fist his shirt and instead pull him impossibly closer.

"You asked a lot of questions tonight. You're gonna have to be a little more specific,” you pant heavily.

It's getting more difficult to think, now, with the warmth of his body against you, his thumbs shifting higher to stroke your stiffening nipples. He urges your hips forward again to meet his, and you can already feel him straining in his jeans.

You whimper helplessly, unable to curb the way your body's reacting to him, and the soft sound causes something in him to snap. He suddenly backs you up against the hard brick of the bar's exterior and begins to grind languidly into your stomach. 

"Y'really believe that boy can take care of a woman like you? Hm?" He interrogates you, his voice gravelly and uneven in your ear. "Tell me I'm the only one who can give you what ya need. Wanna hear ya say it."

Fuck, you can't lie to him. As much as you want to, it's just one more thing your body won't allow you to do. Not when he's working you up like this. 

"You're the only one," you moan around your admission. He's still crowding you into the wall, his hands greedily roaming your soft curves.

His eyes meet yours, darting quickly to your mouth before he leans in to kiss you passionately like he’s rewarding you. It only lasts for a second, one deliciously fleeting second, before he pulls away. You’re not sure why you let him. Or why you kissed back.

"Who's the only man who can make ya scream?" he demands a little more urgently.

"You, Joel,” you murmur obediently, your lips already parted and ready for your prize.

And he acquiesces—another insistent kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough. This time, you chase him, but he jerks his head back. He still has one last question for you. Except, this time, he looks afraid of the answer. 

"Whose girl are ya?"

He whispers it so softly, you barely catch it over the whistling, nighttime breeze. As he brushes a few ruffled strands of hair behind your ear, you answer without hesitation. 

"Yours, Joel."

His entire body relaxes. Now, he's complete.

"Damn right, you are—"

Then, the front door bursts open next to you, and he's abruptly cut off. Joel is quick to tug you around the corner into the alleyway before anyone can spot you, but he's not fast enough to keep you from seeing who just left the bar.

Jesse.

And there it is. A shock to the system, enough to clear some of that smoky, nostalgic haze and bring you back to the present. But as everything hurtles back for the second time tonight, this time around, you can’t be mad because he’s right.

Of course, you're not Jesse's girl. As pathetic as it sounds, you'll always be Joel's because he’s the only one who can take care of you and give you what need. The only man who can make you scream. But that goes both ways.

Even though he’s been picking fights all night, he hasn’t raised his voice once. It's not the way he wins his battles. So, maybe it's time to remind Joel Miller that there is someone who can make him scream. But he isn't allowed to unless you say so.

It all feels eerily familiar—his fingers digging into your waist and your lips crashing into his hard enough to bruise. You lead him deeper into the alley, back to where the glow of the string lights above the bar can't reach you, before you separate from him. 

Neither of you wants to be the one to say it, but it needs to be heard. Here, in the dark, you can be his completely, but once you part ways and return to your empty beds, that's it. Just like last time. The reasons for your breakup are still very real, and that means your relationship can't be.

"Only here. Right, Joel?"   

He stays silent for a moment, his gaze filled with deep longing and sadness. It almost makes you want to take it back. Take him back. So, when he shakes his head and cups your cheeks, kissing you like this might be his last chance, you're not surprised in the slightest.

And after this whole night—this whole confusing, fucked-up night—you let him. Right now, he needs this. Maybe you do, too.

His lips taste like whiskey and relief, and you return his kiss with all of the passion and fervor he’s pouring into you. You’re both a little frantic in the way you touch each other, but as much as you don’t want it to, it makes perfect sense. 

Those few weeks without each other felt like years, and now that his hands are back on your body and his voice, deep and dulcet, is in your ear telling you how badly he wants you, you don’t want to let him go again.

You grind the heel of your hand into the front of his jeans and his responding groan pleases you more than it probably should. This. This is yours—his pleasure, his attention, him. They belong to you and you alone. Not his pretty, perky fucking date. 

The sudden possessiveness stuns you for a moment, but it's not enough to stop the feeling from consuming you. This must be how it feels for Joel. It's potent and feels so, so…right. You're starting to think you've felt this way for a while.

"I needed you, and you made me wait so fucking long," you gasp against his lips, and the fingers cradling your face tense. You’re still fisting his shirt, nearly hard enough to tear, and you wrench it up from where it’s tucked into his pants. 

"M'sorry, darlin', I know. I know I did,” he rasps back, following your lead and dropping his hands from your cheeks so he can unbuckle his jeans. “M'gonna make it up to ya. Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to ya.”

You want everything. Everything he has to give, you want it all. After everything you've been through, the hurt he caused you, you deserve it. And right now, what you want is for him to feel so good, he'll never go on a date with someone who isn't you ever again.

Sharp gravel bites into your bare skin as you drop to your knees in front of him. He's already so hard under all that heavy fabric and looks desperate above you. Just as desperate as you are for him to replace the flavor of Jesse's tequila and lime on your tongue with something saltier and headier, and undeniably Joel.

You hastily unbutton and unzip his jeans, not wasting any more of the precious time you have left together, before tugging them down just enough to free his cock and balls. He looks...fucking mouth-watering—flushed and red and leaking, and so goddamn thick. You wrap your hand around him and he sighs gratefully, dribbling precum onto your fingers.

"This is what I want," you finally reply, keeping your eyes locked on his as you lean forward to lick a broad line up his cock. He hisses in a breath through his teeth, his thighs already beginning to tremble, and you brace your hand on one. "But you're gonna be quiet, okay? I'm gonna suck your cock and you're not gonna make a single sound."

His expression darkens, but he agrees to your terms, nonetheless.

"Sure, darlin'. Whatever you say," he nods, gazing down at you with furrowed brows. He cradles your face in his hand and brushes his thumb along your cheekbone.

The affectionate gesture isn't lost on you, but this time you accept it. Instinctively leaning into his touch, you revel in it for a brief moment before his cock pulsing a frantic rhythm against your palm becomes an unignorable distraction. But a welcome one.

"That's my boy," you mumble against the tip. Just as a pained noise escapes his parted lips, you swallow him down as far as you can take him, purposely gagging yourself on him before you can dwell on the words that accidentally just tumbled out.

Your boy. Your boy. It echoes in your mind, ricocheting wildly and painfully like a bullet. Before you can take it back, maybe even to keep you from taking it back, he buries his fingers in your hair and holds you in place. You choke around him, trying your best to breathe through your nose, but in doing so, you take in a lungful of the heady musk at his base.

The familiarity of it all sends you reeling. He only gives you a second to adjust before he's fucking into your mouth and biting back a litany of needy sounds that rival your own wet, audible gagging. Your grip on his thigh tightens as your throat relaxes, allowing you to take him deeper, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing every time he grazes the back of your throat. 

Tears stream down your cheeks and he wipes them away with a much too tender swipe of his thumb, even as he continues to force you up and down his cock. But you're too lost in your pleasure to notice anymore. So fucking good, you feel so, so good. But you need more, and you're not willing to pull off of him just yet.

Tugging down the front of your shirt, you roll a sensitive nipple between your fingers, and, god, that helps. You imagine they're Joel's and it amplifies the sensation, though your fingertips are still too smooth and delicate. Then, they're replaced by exactly what you've been yearning for all night. 

“You don’t even know how beautiful y'look like this,” he grits out, his fingers running through your hair with one hand and roughly cupping your breast with the other. His hips stutter, and you moan around him. “Fuckin’ perfect. How are ya so fuckin’ perfect?”

Beautiful. More beautiful than her? Well, you must be, because you’re the one here on your knees, choking on his cock, and she’s still sitting in the bar wondering if her date will ever come back. 

He won’t.

You preen without meaning to, your eyes blearily finding his while you drool around him, dripping saliva down his balls and onto your bare breasts. It's as if the visual alone has him thrusting into your mouth faster, pushing your limits only as much as he knows you can take. You must look like a wet dream right now, his wet dream, with your watery eyes and swollen, split-slick lips wrapped tightly around him.

Yet, he's remained so, so quiet this entire time, just like you told him to. Joel likes his sex loud, regardless of where you are and who might hear, so if he’s following your rules, that means something. 

It means he'll do whatever it takes to have you. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, and then you're pulling off of him. 

“You’ll give me anything, right? Anything I want?” your voice cracks around the question, wrecked from the effort of taking him. His hips chase your hand as you continue to pump him, matching his previous, unforgiving pace. 

“That ain’t a question, y’know I will,” he replies breathily and without hesitation. 

You gaze up at him, praying your eyes convey all of the need and anguish and hope you've felt since the last time you slept together. Since the last time you were his.

“Fuck me," and you won't accept anything less than his all. Not that half-assed shit he would've given her. "Fuck me."

He understands. His heart rate kicks up, thrumming wildly against the palm of your hand, and you know he does.

The growl that rumbles through his chest is nearly soundless but powerful. An entire night's worth of tension culminating in a single exhaled breath, just before he drags you up and spins you around, bending you over against the wall. 

Bracing yourself on the harsh brick, you rush to give him better access, arching your back as he tugs your pants and underwear down to your knees. A callused hand runs upward, following the notches of your spine, while his other spreads across your waist, pulling your hips back onto his so you can feel him, heavy and leaking against your bare ass.

God, he’s so close to where you need him now. His knuckles graze your skin as he grips the base, pumping himself before the blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance.

But then, for some godforsaken reason, you feel a wave of panic. Time suddenly feels like it's running out, worsening with every subtle movement he makes. The ticking clock of your and Joel's relationship, perpetually stuck at two minutes to midnight, has sprung to life and that terrifies you.

You don't want him to stop—fuck, you don't want him to stop, but you know neither of you will last long once he's inside you. The build-up was too intense and this entire night has you both wound up so tight, you could snap at any moment. 

You need to savor this. The way you failed to on your couch all those weeks ago, and might not get to ever again.

“Slow,” you tell him over your shoulder, and it's equal parts a command and a plea. If this is the last time, then you want to feel it. Every thick inch of him, while he still belongs to you. “Just…go slow.”

He nods, shifting forward almost imperceptibly so he can watch your lashes flutter as you brace for the stretch.

"Don't need’ta tell me. I know how ya like it," he replies gruffly.

He does. For now, you won’t overthink it or let yourself get lost in the nostalgia of his cock nestled inside you. You’ll just enjoy it. Sex with Joel has always been mind-blowing, and here, in a dirty alleyway, pressed up against the exterior of a bar, you bet it’ll be life-changing.

It stings like it always does when he breaches your entrance, no matter how wet you are for him. Together, you hiss in a sharp breath, mutually adjusting to the overwhelming stretch that quickly ebbs into something addictive.

"Tight as all goddamn hell," he mutters to himself, rocking into you languidly. He takes his time, relishing your walls enveloping him, mesmerized by the way you suck him in until he's buried to the hilt. 

"Would'ja look at that," he continues in awe, tracing where his cock is forcing you to yield to him. "Greedy fuckin' pussy, ain't she? M'not goin' anywhere, don't'chu worry. Gonna take care of ya...make ya feel so fuckin' good..."

He's starting to babble. Not good. Not good at all. 

Broad hands grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart so he can see how tightly you’re gripping him, and it's too much. His hips buck, startling a pained whine out of you as he rams into that spot. The one deep inside you he can only reach when he’s fucking you from behind. Your cunt clenches, fighting to keep him there, and he growls low in his throat, hungry and territorial like a wild animal.

"There it is," he nudges it again, purposefully this time. You barely manage to bite back a sob as you gush messily around him. "Christ, honey, y'sure ya still want it slow? 'Cus it sure don't sound like it."

He's patronizing you. He knows exactly what he's doing—that's his spot. He also knows it makes you loud as fuck. But he wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d go back on his word, not after he promised he’d be discreet.

"Joel. Don't," you warn him shakily, but you're already too far gone to be intimidating. 

He pulls out until just the tip is still inside you, huffing out a distinctly calculated breath.

"Don't what? Don't make ya cum nice and loud on my cock? 'Fraid I can't do that, darlin'."

That's all the warning you get before he slams in hard. Your jaw drops, and you're positive you couldn't have stopped the wail punched out of your chest even if you'd tried.

Wrong. You’re wrong again, and you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time he’s gone back on his word, remember? Joel’s shitty lack of communication is why you’re here in the first place. Sure, he agreed to be quiet, but he never said anything about you.

He establishes a brutal pace that has you scrabbling against the wall for purchase and slapping a hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the desperate cries being forced from your body.

Please, don’t be outside. Please, please, Jesse. Don’t still be outside. 

But your luck's officially run out. 

Heavy mahogany crashes into solid brick, echoing down the alleyway, and a raucous group of people spills out onto the street, barely 30 feet from where your ass and tits are out for anyone to see. Then, the deep baritone of Jesse's voice cuts through the rest, and your blood immediately turns to ice. 

You're fucked. You're about to get caught and expose your secret to the entire town, except...Joel isn't stopping. Fuck, he's—

Yanking your entire body up and ripping your hand away from your mouth, rutting into you like he was just waiting for an audience. He snakes a hand up your stomach to palm at your chest, squeezing firmly to anchor himself as he fucks up into you with all the force he can muster.

And it turns you on so much, you finally stop caring. Fuck it. Fuck this town. Fuck everyone in that bar who made you feel like a goddamn pariah for months, crucifying you for the unforgivable sin of getting your heart broken. 

You hope his date's standing out there, too, so she can hear everything she'll never get to have. So they can all see that Joel Miller isn't the crushed, cruelly dumped old man they all thought he was.

Your moans ring out, loud and high-pitched, all but drowning out the messy slap of his hips into the drenched curve of your ass.

"That's it, darlin', let it all out," he chuckles darkly against the shell of your ear. Your next moan tapers into a drawn-out keen that he mimics, his thrusts getting shallow and sloppy. "S'for me, right? Let 'em know you're makin' all those pretty noises just for me."

Christ, you're close. And he's as close as you are, you can feel it. You turn your head, nodding jerkily into his shoulder.

"S'for you, Joel—mmph, just for you. Only for you," your words slur as he continues to bounce you on his cock. 

"Tell 'em you're mine, darlin’. Not just here," he pants raggedly, desperation coating his words. "Everywhere. You're mine everywhere."

The voices are getting closer, about to pass the mouth of the alley, and the ice in your veins quickly thaws, turning to molten lava. They'll definitely be able to able to hear you, but can they see you? For the umpteenth time tonight, you decide you really don't give a shit. You've got none left. You and Joel, that's all that matters now. 

His hand drops between your legs, thick fingers swirling tight, slick circles into your clit while he waits for you to confirm what he already knows. You've said it again and again—weeks ago, wrapped up in his arms, and earlier tonight, after the worst argument you've had since the breakup. 

And you’ll tell him again in this alley as you cum blindingly hard around his cock. Third time's the charm.

"Y-yours, Joel. I'm always yours."

His hips completely lose their rhythm, and he barely has time to breathe out his contentment before the violent convulsing of your cunt and contrasting serenity of your words send him hurtling over the edge.

"That's my girl."

He crashes his lips into yours, swallowing every noise you make as the group finally comes into view. Their drunken chattering and roughhousing aren't enough to draw your attention away from each other, but the depraved sounds of Joel continuing to fuck you through your release captures theirs almost immediately.

A few of them stop to squint into the darkness, trying their best to pinpoint what everyone already knows is happening further down the alley. As they inch closer, they can just barely make out two connected figures, and the wind carrying muffled gasps and labored breathing with it into the street all but confirms it.

"Y'all seein' this?" they whisper amongst themselves, but in the inebriated state they're in, they might as well be yelling.

And that's what pulls you and Joel back to reality. Shit. Shit. So, this is it, then. You tense in Joel's arms, waiting to get called out as the slutty girl who seduced her ex away from his date. Hell, they're not even wrong. You can feel his cum dribbling out of you, and can't help but think maybe you'd deserve it.

From where you're standing, you recognize each and every one of their faces under the string lights, and you know damn well that none of them can keep their mouths shut. Except...wait a second. They're still glancing back and forth between you and Joel in the shadows and each other. 

Oh. The fucking shadows. None of them can see shit. They have no clue who the hell they're looking at. Joel must've caught on around the same time you did, because now he's backing up, putting more distance between you and the looming crowd. Before they can get any closer, one of the younger guys cuts in front to block their path.

“C’mon, it's probably a couple’a teenagers. Just let ‘em be," he drawls, glancing back at you. Your eyes lock, and you're suddenly so grateful, you could cry. It's Jesse. He shoots you a wink before turning back to the group, shaking his head in mock admonishment. "Don't act like y'all weren't doin' the same damn thing at their age."

By some miracle, it fucking works. They all laugh in agreement, appeased by Jesse's quick thinking. One by one, they follow each other out of the alley and back onto the road to continue their original path home. Jesse lingers. 

"Glad y'all figured things out," he calls out over his shoulder, giving you privacy to tug your shirt back up. He clears his throat awkwardly before continuing, "Look, I, uh...distracted as many people as I could from comin' over here, but if y'all were gonna be that loud, maybe you should'a figured things out at home."

Jesse shakes his head again, chuckling to himself as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Anyway, y'all have a good night, now. Get home safe."

As he jogs away to catch up with the rest of the group, you start to laugh, too. You can’t help it. It feels cathartic, relieving some of the tension of this overly eventful night.

Joel’s body begins to shake behind you, his chest rumbling with what you realize is deep-bellied laughter. It gradually increases in volume as it melds seamlessly with yours; transitory, white clouds of condensation that intertwine, then dissipate.

You feel him slip out as he starts to soften, and then he turns you to face him, carefully crowding you into the wall. He kisses you again, this time slow and deliberate like you asked him to earlier. His tongue meets yours, gasps exchanged and treasured like you have all the time in the world. 

When he parts from you, it feels reluctant, but he stays close, whispering his next words against your lips.

“M’gonna get ya cleaned up, alright?” he mumbles, dropping his arm from around your waist to run his fingers up the cum leaking down your thighs. You shiver as they continue up, slipping his release back inside you. “Don’t…,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut as his forehead drops to yours, “…just—don’t go anywhere. Please. I’ll be right back.”

Maybe he’s trying to protect himself from the response he anticipates you’ll give him, but that seems silly after everything you’ve been through tonight. You cup his cheek and thumb the coarse, trimmed hairs of his beard, willing him to open his eyes. He does, hesitantly, one then the other, and you offer him a soft smile.

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel.”

An intoxicating breath fans across your face, and the taut muscles in his neck and shoulders loosen. His lips match the soft quirk of your own and, then, brush fleetingly against your cheekbone as he backs away and disappears through a metal side door you didn't notice before. The moment it clicks shut, you slump against the wall. 

Christ. Your mind is simultaneously blank and racing a mile a minute. Taking a deep breath, you let your head thunk into solid, grounding brick while you wait for even a single coherent thought to take root. What now? What happens next? 

There's no coming back from tonight. You both made choices you'll have to answer for, but, for some reason, that doesn't seem so scary anymore. The clock is ticking, but there's time. Plenty of it.

You're still lost in your reverie when Joel gets back with a thick wad of damp paper towels. You snort at the idea of him suddenly appearing in Seth's kitchen and having to explain himself, but maybe the racket you kicked up right outside his door was explanation enough.

"Seth didn't give you any shit for stealing his stuff?" you ask as Joel drops to his knees and coaxes one of your legs over his shoulder.

The cold air has already started to leach the warmth from the paper towels, and they feel cool as he slides them along your soiled skin. He huffs out a laugh.

"Nah, the kitchen was empty. Think they're startin' to close up for the night." 

When he finishes your first thigh, he surprises you by leaning in to press a soft kiss against your freshly cleaned skin. He nips at you teasingly before starting on the next one.

You hum in response, threading your fingers through his hair and watching fondly as he pays careful attention to his task. He continues to wipe away his drying release, trailing his lips down your thigh as he goes, until he finishes at your knee.

He gazes up at you with a charmingly crooked grin, and that’s when it finally slips out. The single coherent thought you’ve been waiting for.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur, brushing your fingertips across his cheek. 

His smile falters. Then, it drops completely and your heart shatters. You don’t understand. But that—no. No, it doesn’t make any fucking sense. After everything that’s happened, how could you have been wrong again?

Joel sighs, grimacing as he slowly gets back up. He braces himself on one knee, clearly aching more than he's letting on, but when you reach down to offer him a hand, he refuses your help.

“S’fine, I got it. Just…,” he gestures to your jeans, still hanging loosely around your knees. You pull them up, fighting not to feel humiliated as he rises to his full height. 

You search his eyes for…something. Anything. Any indication of what he’s feeling right now, but they’re blank. Cold and distant, just like they were the night he left you. 

No. He doesn’t get to do this to you again. Not after everything you’ve been through. Not without an explanation. Not if he doesn’t want to lose you forever.

“Tell me why you broke up with me."

For a long time, you genuinely believed you could live without knowing the truth, but somewhere along the line, it began to eat away at you. Now, you want the real reason. He owes you that, at the very least.

You wait while he either works himself up to it or tries to figure out what bullshit to tell you this time. Once his hands settle on his hips, you know with absolute certainty it's the latter.

“Darlin’…,” he starts wearily, but you shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks. He doesn't get to call you that right now, and he knows it. Pausing, he nods grimly before beginning again. "We already talked about this. I’m no good for ya. It was only a matter of time before ya woke up one day and realized it for yourself.”

There it is. That same bullshit reason. You scoff bitterly, not surprised in the slightest.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Joel? We were together for years. If that was gonna happen, don’t you think it would’ve already?" you counter angrily. 

You're trying not to get emotional. This can't be a repeat of what happened last time, but it's dragging up too many painful memories. It's always the same fight. You can't do this anymore.

"You know what? Fuck you," you seethe as your self-control slips completely. "Fuck you for making that decision for me. You had no right."

At your words, his face crumples and he has the nerve to look ashamed. Maybe even a little hurt. His pained expression makes your heart ache, yet a nastier part of you believes it's only fair that he feels this way, too. He sighs, his eyes dropping wistfully to his feet.

“I did what I thought was best," he mumbles quietly as if he doesn't want to be heard. It's hard for him to say this out loud, and you realize it's because he's finally telling you the truth. "I just…I thought you’d be happier with someone else, someone who could give ya a family. Kids. I gave you up so you could have the life ya always wanted."

You eye him incredulously. The life you always wanted? Sure, you and Joel had toyed with the idea of having a family once upon a time, but that was never a dealbreaker. He should've known that. He should've brought it up before deciding to destroy your life together over an idealized fantasy.

“Oh, here we go. Joel, the fucking savior. Mr. Fix-It, swooping in to save everyone and solve every problem," you hurl back venomously. But it was a cruel thing to say, and you immediately hate yourself for it.

Rationally, you know his intentions were kind. He probably even thought he was being selfless. But he hurt you, and, through your tunnel vision, that's all you can see. You push yourself off the wall, stalking closer to where he stands, still refusing to look at you.

"So what, you thought you’d dump me and I’d immediately shack up with some other asshole? Is that really what you think of me?”

His eyes shoot up to yours and his fingers begin to tap restlessly at his sides. Now, you've pissed him off. 

“Don't go puttin’ words in my mouth. That ain’t true and you fuckin’ know it," he all but growls, his body shaking with a turbulent combination of frustration and adrenaline.

You're starting to feel it, too. This conversation is overwhelming both of you, but he still hasn't told you everything. There's a piece missing, keeping all of his disjointed reasonings from adding up. He's holding back and it's time for him to stop.

“Then what is, Joel?" you plead with him to give you a definitive answer. One that finally explains why you had to lose everything. Ellie, your home. The love of your life. "What’s the truth?"

Then, everything he's kept bottled up inside and allowed to poison his happiness claws its way out as a single, unwavering statement. 

“I’m too fuckin’ old for you!”

The silence that follows his admission is deafening. You watch in shock as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He's never yelled like that before or looked so defeated. By something as innocuous as his age. 

It isn't something you'd ever considered, not before your relationship and never once during. But he did. His bottom lip starts to tremble as he turns and takes a few steps away from you.

“Every day, I’d watch ya…offerin’ to take more shifts, spendin’ time at the school with Ellie and the kids," he says softly, shaking his head as he works through his next words. "And every day, I’d feel it. My body givin’ out on me, more and more. My blood pressure’s up, my goddamn knees are creakin’. Couldn’t even fuckin’ stand up on my own just now." 

When he turns back to you, his eyes are wet with unshed tears. He feels too far, but you know you can't go to him, yet. He's not finished.

"You can do better than that. You deserve better than that," his voice cracks and your whole world blurs into a wash of colors. “You’re gonna outlive me by a mile. I’m an old man, darlin’. It wasn’t fair for me to keep ya.”

For a while, you just watch each other. Tears overflow and continuously spill down his cheeks and yours, but neither of you moves to wipe them away. 

None of this is fair. You're both miserable and heartbroken, perpetually yearning for a love you've told yourselves you can't have. Months ago, Joel made a choice for both of you. You won't make the same mistake he did.

"I didn't want fair, Joel. I wanted you. A life with you...," your face screws up as you fight back a sob, "...the rest of my life with you, however long that is."

Joel takes a tentative step forward, carefully reaching out to touch you, but stops himself before he can get too close. He looks afraid...of you. Scared of the consequences of allowing you back into his heart. 

A sob escapes your chest, then, and you wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly bitterly cold and wanting nothing more than for Joel to hold you. To tell you for the first time since the breakup that he loves you and, regardless of time, won't ever stop.

So, you cross the alleyway and cup his wet cheeks in your hands, wiping away his sadness and, hopefully, his fears. He melts into the poignant familiarity of your touch and it makes you brave. This time, you'll be brave enough for both of you.

"Don't I deserve that?" you whisper, close enough to share his next breath. He watches your lips, hanging onto your every word. "Don't you?" 

His eyes meet yours, and it finally happens. The moment Joel gives in and decides to let himself be happy. He nods slowly in your grasp, reaching up to cradle your hand on his cheek. 

"Dunno what I deserve, darlin'. Not after the things I've done and the hurt I put ya through. But if I'm...if this is really what ya want...," he hesitates, his voice thick with tears and, yet, still that full-bodied, twang that sounds like home. "I'm yours. 'Til my last breath, I'm yours."

He kisses you before either of you can start crying again, and it's all there. The love he kept under lock and key to protect you, released from the prison of his own making.

His kiss feels different again. There's no hunger or rush, and the possessiveness—the need to devour everything you have to give so there's nothing left for anyone else—is gone. He's sure, now, that there's no one else you'd rather give yourself to.

His arms circle your waist and he pulls you closer, crushing you into time-worn chambray and sullied denim as you continue to explore each other like a pair of horny teenagers. Two lovers learning to give and take for the first time. Time passes slowly in this space you've carved out for yourselves, even as the moon continues to rise in the night sky and floods the corridor with light. 

Then, noisily and as if right on cue, the last-call crowd stumbles from the bar and immediately catches what the previous group missed. You and Joel separate, dazed but unhurried, to find that it's them. 

It has to be fucking kismet that, of everyone in Jackson, the first to witness your reconciliation would be the biggest blabbermouths in the entire town. The same women who talked shit about you every day for months and constantly vied for Joel's attention, standing there with wide eyes and slack jaws.

Their varied expressions almost make you want to laugh, and you can't help but snort unattractively into Joel's shoulder. Half of them are glaring at you, and the rest look either devastated or genuinely surprised. Guess you were better at hiding your arrangement than you thought, not that it matters anymore. It's a relationship again, and everyone's about to know all about it. Joel clears his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

"Evenin', ladies. S'there somethin' we can help ya with?" he drawls, breaking out the Southern charm that endeared every single one of them to him in the first place.

They all shake their heads, looking a little too pleased with themselves once the initial shock wears off and they realize you've just given them the gossip of the century. After a few fake, high-pitched pleasantries, they slink away as quickly as they came, already chatting to themselves about some shit you'll definitely hear tomorrow at breakfast. You watch them go, feeling oddly liberated.

"Guess the cat's outta the bag, huh?" You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, still chuckling softly to yourself. Joel huffs out a laugh, too, bending down to kiss the crown of your head before nodding in agreement.

"'Fraid so," he muses, amusement and a hint of something lighter glinting in his eyes. 

You haven't seen him this relaxed in a long time. As he holds you in his arms, he leans a fraction of his weight on you to ease the night's strain on his back and knees, and it makes you feel needed. Relied on. That's new, Joel depending on you like this. Things are going to be different this time around, you can tell. They already are. 

You hum, ruminating on what awaits you after your first night back in your own bed, in your own home. What everyone will think and say—to your face and behind your back—when they find out you're back together. Though, the only opinions you give a shit about are Ellie, Tommy, and Maria's, anyway.

So, yeah, you're a lot of things right now: exhausted, yet relieved and so full of hope. But you're not afraid, the cat and the bag be damned.

"I'm not," you tell him honestly as you pull away. You let your hands trail from his shoulders, down his arms, until his hands are in yours. 

Tugging gently, you walk him backward out of the alley, away from the bar and plummeting winter chill, and any lingering, prying eyes. Even the moon and stars have no stake in what comes next. This moment, right here and now, belongs to you and Joel, alone.

"Take me home, Joel."

The light in his eyes burns brighter, amusement giving way to adoration and contentment. He's been waiting for this, to be given the privilege of keeping you safe and taking care of you the way he needs to—it's how he shows love. 

He slots his fingers between yours and leads you down the empty streets of Jackson. 

"Darlin', nothin' would make me happier."

thanks for reading!

[astralnymphh]

making ellie ur anal princess ౨ৎ

𓆩.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝𓆪: subbottom!ellie, bit of a brat obv, spanking ofc!! rough n' nasty, sorta soft, an iota of lore buildup tbh im not doing all that, some fluff at the end i think, 2.4k+ words . BIG TEXT VERSION . MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO . ART BY LOTTIE

Wintry brumes swept through Jackson this week had to have carried some alteration of spores, for Ellie to even chew her teeth over the word yes. Bizarre as the idea should strike— "Wanna try it from behind?"— recoiling lips over her ear rim, sunken in a seat behind, and masticating denimed ass with your honed nails; Ellie was all in, blushed to the bone.

Was she at all candid originally? No, that goes without saying. Humdrums and spectrums of explicitness on your part pervade each crack and inept cough of chatter that she starts days beforehand, throat literally cracking whenever the topic emerges on dreary mornings or alive nights. Twiddly of her thumbs or knees, breaks the thick silence on a spitty click— uncalled for finger jabbing you to see if you managed to evade sleep long enough, "Um, so— it really won't hurt if I.. god— this is so fuckin'.. uh, keep.. practicing?"

Practicing. One way to say it. You assured Ellie; "Yeah, unless you're a masochist praying for a death wish." which maybe could've been articulated nicer, but she's your girlfriend, and one of her major ground-breakers for falling smitten with you— your humor. Spankin' her butt the second she spanks yours, (In turn making her the butt of the running: "That's gonna be you on Friday." joke), or nonchalantly slipping the notion that she'd "Look hotter than a V.S model." in a black thong, flopping your head and averting casual gaze to blank spaces undeserving of your eyes as if your comment wouldn't fuck with her brain for the ticking remains of daylight. Just crude humor, and not serious concepts, right?

So beyond the shadow of doubt, of course, when she's bare lain, spreadeagled of her legs caging you in, maraschino face smudged flat to her bed, perky ass in yours and teased by the caphead of your plastic dick— you give all the humor that girl can get, and fourfold.

"Don't need to clench, baby. Your butt isn't going anywhere."

Ellie clenching for her oh so cherished life felt more like she was squeezing the nervous nectar out, pearly bullets brought upon by all that foreplay— or anticipation— bedazzle the creased parts and frowns she knits as you wrap a grip on your lubed length and brush the tip against her asscrack. It prods at her, mentally. Pokes her to open up, literally.

A drawn-out whine, low and wispy, breezes her throat, "Shut up," jaw tensing grit conjointly, "You're such an ass— and don't you dare make an ass joke, I swear." you suppose she attempted to rein in some essence of control with that suppressed tone of threat, cute threat if we're mincing no words, but it's futile. Can't rise above when you're pinned below.

You snicker, contrary hand swerving over and beginning to palm her butt's half-taut half-doughy feel, and yielding it to a pull, "Hmhm." the soft heat of your touch inciting her muscles to relax, just a slight. "Want you to put it in, set the pace for me, mkay?" your voice curls at the end, tilting your face even if she couldn't exactly see.

"Huh.." she releases a breathy chuckle into the mattress, then shimmies onto her ruddy, pockmarked elbows to allow a pivot of her head. "Makin' me do all the work, can't you just do it already?" she gripes, teetering between frustration and impatience, and nearly hissing, "Fuck me already." instead. Fair skin contours along her shoulder blades as she reaches back, little dimples you wanna deepen with presses.

Muggy fingers skid the bends of your knuckles, "Ts' cute when you do." and you slacken your grip, the harness lacing your hips tugging in nooks as she takes you and levels it to her hole, not quite inserting it before another scoff unbinds from her throat.

"Uh-huh, totally." the brat card was the only thing she could play, Ellie being Ellie— plus, fuck you for shoving such a vulnerability into her by eclipsing over her body and deciphering which touches and words made her tick into a, "Yes ma'am." this past week, making her eager to get piped dumb already, even if the thought conflicts with humiliation.

Intrinsic carnality, had her whipped subconsciously. Hot blood always pooled at her cheeks whenever the mere prediction of how this would go down flashed her mind, having to mosey out of her place for a contemplative stroll. Contemplate, contemplate, ooze her eyes into the raw white, winter void, "Fuck." she couldn't help but moan, and throb untouched.

Bands flex across her grasp as she tries pulling you inside, but her body is a bit too.. antsy, taut. "Babe, it's not— mmph, it's not going in. I think we have to—"

"Have to.. what?"

"Fuck!" a rushed moan tears as skin slaps, harsh and bridging on real tears. Of pain, or by pleasure? Ellie can't convey, but her thrust into the spongy bed and toss of head begging to get strung in your fist impart the guess that fuck— you've stretched her deep, bottomed in perfectly.

You let her hole familiarize the girth for a second prior to drawing out and slamming back in, "Uh!" plush globes rippling wherever the skin spilled on top of your hip bones jamming into her. The pressure clamping you in causes a tiny kickback against your folds, chafes your clit underneath. "Fuckin' tight, aren't you?" you're a damn taunt, winching that whisper ardent to her neck. Evilly; wicked as lusty spirits tempt.

"Holy fuck, holy fu— uhh, uh uh, shit!" streams of nasty and broken up groans hike out of her gaped mouth with each pump into her, poor girl having a gouge out with the bedsheets as a means of taking you, "It's so— uhn! So fuckin' bi— I can't, hhn'can't.."

Musing sighs blur into a pitying coo, you reply, "Mhm, you can. Play with 'urself baby."

"Okay, okay—" Ellie unfolds a breathlessness, "—unhh babeee, fuckkk me." and runs it into straught curses as her tatted forearm lodges in the narrow space separating her from drenched cotton, and forks her pussy lips open, rubbing her neglected bud in sloppy strokes. Her teeth bore into her soft, coral lips when her fingers tug just right, so delectably right she could come undone then and there with your added penetration, waning from pain to indeed— pleasure. Diverts her fingers a moment to massage all the dripping slick and lube through her labia 'till it drew pretty webs between, and resumes again, noisily as ever, "Ghnna' cum, guhhh— ohh my goodd." and so nasty; dribbles of thin saliva traversing the swell of her chin.

Goddamn, she's loud. Sure, it's adorable how you pump her into a blathering mess on your cock, but this was unforeseen; surrendering her every moan to get bumped out nonsensically. Because or for you, both possibly, or definitely. "Already? Aww." you pity, muffling your speech to render your voice into thorns of mock disappointment, but in reality, you just quickened your humps. Shown audibly in the squeaks of her bed frame squawking under your combined weights.

Two splotchy flowerbeds of crimson brim at her asscheeks, owing to how intense this had began and trickled into. Hmm, could make it redder if we so wished.

Wish it is.

Quietude holds, and relents in a hard snap; a sting pricks the entirety of your palm crashing down on her butt, watching as the gentle red gains a series of richer rays and hearing the result of said slap punching through her larynx.

"Ughnn!"

Continuing: you slap once, slap twice, times it by thrice, and drive her into a quiver, procuring those wails that have your goosebumps downright rigid as the earth.

"Uh— uh— agh!"

Retiring your hands thriven of ache, they find oasis curving in the shape of her waist. "So good, isn't it Els? Can tell by how loud you're being, my sloppy girl." praised you, silkily sweet upon the lacy edge of slamming your cockhead rough on her walls.

"Yes, yessh. Make me shl— make me.. fuck— make m'your sloppy girl.." past her grace, is a side long since cowered. It's like you molded her brain to abruptly covet the feeling spurting inside her pelvis. From her spine, unto her clit, a ticklish string invokes its fray, flitting her eyes to darker heavens within her skull.

You coast your knees further up until they parked aside her hips, slanting your groin so you could plunge her wider and deeper, ending up with a draw of lubrication landsliding out. Sheer size alone— she's spread her on your strap thickly enough to stimulate certain sweet spots, and god can you tell when you do hit them. Resistance punts the strap base viciously back, dragging a yelp from your lungs. All the squelches coming from her two holes, egged you to an insatiable fucking. Arousal scorched the curves of your cheeks, in love with that sound, infatuated with her pussy, her ass, how ace of a learner she is.

Ellie's calves give upon sensation and hurtle up, rotating her ankle downwards and pushing cinched toes smushed on your bouncing hind— because that infamous pinch now consumes her fattened clit, riding her sleek-glistened fingers doggishly to pursue that heavenly itch. An oncoming recital of whines and growls coats her timbre, "Baby, uhh— babe— m'gonna cum now, dammit.. 'cum all over you— yeah." pleading for you to hasten up in buggy nudges of her heel, butting your ass.

"Oh yeah?" you swirl muse, arching your thumb into the arch her spine slowly welds into, swooning when her head lies atop her ear and a suffused, smiling expression meets your behold.

"Mhm, hmph!" a hitched gulp interrupts her, "You're too fuckin'— mhh, too fuckin good at t-this." inching into a cocky laugh for a blink in time, then swallows it returned to a screw of overwhelm in her facial muscles. She snakes her free paw under yours set on her waist, collecting it and dragging you to grope a handful of her breast, erect nipples flicking stripes due to your humps jostling her.

Weepy eyes bordered by remnants of her past tears cried inflict a bridge between pride and more praise into the pleasure points of your body, and you had no clue before this that she cried. It felt.. gratifying, seeing freckled flesh resemble pebbled waters in spring, ribbons of light warping along her cheeks.

"Those tears for me?" even so, you lower your lips and lap the pellucid stain up, puckering a smooch in its wake.

But you keep ramming a flood out.

The nod she bobs is swift, swifter than her gullet will ever deliver in this state— nor could now, a contort bolting her face inwards subsequent to a mouse-pitched moan leaving the luring lips of your lover bearing pressure into squirting her orgasm all over you, "Oh fuck! Fuck!" she keens and cants her ass on you, jerking swipes over her clit wildly to fufill the ecstasy piping through her pussy. A timid and weak spray noises below— and then came the webs of liquid pearls cascading around her clit, connecting to her fingerprints as she delicately taps the beady bud.

She got thrashy, and clenched your cock in, having bitten off more than she could chew— and it thrilled your cunt to know that; fire catches, and so does the knot twisting your insides. Relish leaves your mouth as you finish base-deep in your girlfriend, imposing her to your skin-bulged grip of her soft breast melting into your palm lines as you cum, "Ohh, yes baby— good girl, good girl.. fuckk." imprinting her mind with how good that felt in your every reaction, forcing that fervor into her existence.

"I fuckin' love you, babe, I love you so fuckin' muh— yes yes yes.." Ellie reciprocates passion received, unto passion given; parting her muck sweat face from the bed and sundering that space in front of yours, suckling your bottom lip into your mouth and sharing the excess teardrops streaked upon her top lips, unlocking to simply just— breathe onto your mouth, straining the last of her orgasm in gradually dwindling moans.

One last peck at her lips charged by a high, you both temper your elation strewn throughout and become aware of the loss for air in your lungs, inhaling the scent of each other done up in exertion. The stillness sustains for a bit, kind of just drunkenly staring 'till one of you broke into a lopsided smirk— no doubt Ellie, and you just had to mingle lips again. So, you slide out carefully with the expected threads of lube following after, and you roam your damp palms away from her ass and chest and branch them on either side of her clammy waist. Her contagious giggles inspire you to mirror the same sounds as you slink behind her and spoon her, smushing the ball of your nose into her hot nape reeking of sweat.

"Was that everything you imagined— or a pain in the ass?" quiped you, quick rolling kisses on her skin, specks of your spit smearing.

Cringe compels her to split lips from you, chuckling, "Really? Right now?" a row of notches digging between her brows, and a shuffle of her legs rub at the filthy wetness layering her groin, "You've got to be kidding me."

"So it was a pain?"

All you get as a response is her shoulder blades swelling as she breathes in, and shies her face away, giving you the hair-in-your-face treatment. "Guess.. after that, 'could go for a couple snacks. I'm hungry."

You squint, "By snacks, do you mean your two-course aftersex meal?" retorting.

"Yeah! That's like, the best thing to do right after." and, her enthusiastic claim isn't all that spoiled. Ellie commonly does it, and she fucking loves it. Hot meals under some wacky or heartfelt discussion, sometimes checking in on the other person, sometimes asking how they felt— but this time, confessions would stay an enigmatic afterthought to ponder about, as really, she fucking loved what you did to her. But that's— forward. Give her a couple days and a couple hours toppled above the usual hour she knocks slumped into somnolence, and she'll admit that. Sappy sweet on the lobe of your ear, indifferent on whether you're wide awake to overhear or not.

"You felt good, uh, by the way. It hurt at first, but, I think my butt's healed from the trauma. Chair isn't uncomfortable to sit in anymore, hmph. Love you, don't ask me about it in the morning. I'll pretend you don't exist. Night, babe."

Something tells me she wants you to do it again.

[ultram0th]

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 21: Centaur

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21

“Fuck!” Derek roared as he stormed into the yard, hands clenched into tight fists. 

The werewolf was irritated over having nearly lost control of his inner wolf, and nearly wolfing out in public. Derek and Stiles had been out on a simple dinner date, when stupid Jackson had to show up and be his usual douchey self. Normally, Derek was able to keep his lupine instincts in check; however, the second that stupid Jackson had placed his hand on a clearly annoyed Stiles’s shoulder, Derek had seen red. He’d shot out of his seat and had unleashed a fearsome snarl, even baring his massive werewolf fangs in the jerk’s direction.

It had managed to get Jackson to cut his crap, but the action had also accidentally caught the attention of other patrons in the restaurant, who’d only stared awkwardly/fearfully in Derek’s direction. The ceaseless staring had totally ruined the night, and Derek had dragged Stiles out of there early, much to his chagrin.

“Der!” Stiles called out after the stomping werewolf. “It’s fine, really!”

Derek was still seething. Sure he was irritated with Jackson, yet he was more so angry with himself and how his lack of self-control had ruined his date with Stiles. Thinking about it more only served to bring out an onslaught of more anger-inducing memories about how being a werewolf was a pain in Derek’s ass.

His jaw clenched, Derek just huffed in annoyance. “It’s not fine,” he pouted. “And this whole werewolf bullshit is something that’s just going to keep causing us trouble.”

Stiles frowned and placed a tender hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Sometimes,” Derek huffed, “I wish I wasn’t a werewolf.”

On cue, a streak of light flickered through the night sky as a shooting star bolted across.

Immediately, Derek flinched as he felt a warm travel throughout his body. The first thing he noticed was that his pants were starting to grow uncomfortably tight. 

“What the hell…?” Derek wondered aloud as he looked down at himself. HIs eyes went wide as saucers when he saw his altered bulge in the front of his pants. 

His normally proportional six inches had somehow elongated, creating what looked like Derek was stuffing a ripe grapefruit in his boxers. It was obscenely large, and between his thick thighs, Derek felt balls that had to be the size of lemons. Worse was that back of his pants felt as if they’s burst at any moment.

Looking over his broad shoulder, Derek gasped at the caricature of a butt that was attached to him. His perky cheeks had somehow managed to balloon out to a crazy size, pushing further out with each second.

In his panic, Derek ripped off his pants, his breath getting caught in his throat at what he saw.

Never being one lost for words, Stiles gasped out, “Holy crap, Der! You’ve got a horse cock!”

Derek’s cock had grown to at least fifteen inches, and it was nearly as thick of his beefy wrist. His balls had swollen up to resemble baseballs. The werewolf didn’t have time to focus on that as he felt his weight being yanked back due to the increasing size of his booty.

His legs stretched out longer, causing Derek to sprout up at least two more feet in height. All he could do was stare in disbelief at his changing body, his heart beat loudly in his muscled chest as he wondered what was happening to him. His throat went dry as he witnessed his toes fusing together, his nails hardening to form hooves. 

His butt grew so big that Derek stumble back and almost fell, but he was caught by something.

Stiles’s wordless gasp mirrored his own as he looked back and saw that he’d grown an extra set of legs to offset his elongated backside. Derek blushed at how he must’ve looked, having his regular-looking torso sitting atop a lower half that was stretched out with four legs needed to keep it upright.

Derek’s altered lower half began to itch as thick, black fur sprouted all over it, covering every inch. It was glossy and looked shiny underneath the moonlight. As a final touch, Derek winced when he felt his distended backside tingle as he sprouted a long tail that swished back and forth.

The warmth finally dissipated, and Derek also felt an odd calm inside of his head, like his inner wolf was finally silenced.

“What the fuck just happened?!” Derek panicked, taking an awkward step forward in his new body, his hooves clacking loudly on the ground as he struggled to get used to walking. As he moved, his huge cock dangled around freely, making his face crimson.

Stiles’s mouth was agape as he looked over his changed boyfriend. Derek’s long legs were thick with muscle, which flexed with animalistic power with every heavy step he took. “Der,” he gasped, “you’re a centaur!”

“A what?” Derek groaned, pinching his nose in irritation. “When I said that I didn’t want to be a werewolf anymore, that didn’t mean that I’d rather be a centaur instead! How the fuck am I supposed to hide this thing!?” He gestured at his horse ass and cock, which were humongous and definitely would prove to be difficult to keep from prying eyes.

Derek stopped and sniffed at the air, still maintaining a keen sense of smell. And a curious aroma was wafting off of Stiles in waves.

“R-really?” Derek asked incredulously.

Stiles bit down on his lower lip and shrugged. “I played a lot of fantasy RPGs, and always liked the centaur characters… like, a lot.”

Derek felt his shock slowly fade, and he couldn’t help but grin coyly at his boyfriend.”C’mere, I’ll give you a ride,” he chuckled.

Stiles eagerly took his hand and hopped up onto Derek’s new back, wrapping his arms around Derek’s human torso. 

Derek marveled at how weightless Stiles felt as he carried him, and he began to trot towards the house… his swaying horse cock getting harder and harder. He just hoped that Stiles knew some special stretching techniques.

[daughter-of-melpomene]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐋𝐘𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍

❝ For almost as long as she’d known she was a half-blood, Lydia had wanted to go on a quest. Being an adventurous kid by nature (as well as a dramatic and overly perky kid, according to Camp Half-Blood’s notoriously surly head counsellor), she ached to venture out and retrieve some important magical object or face some terrifying monster on behalf of her father, to carry out a mission that would make for the summer of her life and get her some glory in the process.

Unfortunately for her, a quest didn’t seem to be the will of her father, Apollo - or of anyone else in her life, for that matter. Chiron kept insisting that she wasn’t ready, wasn’t trained enough, to put herself in danger like that; her moms, when she was home, practically forbade her to go even if her father did call her on one, not wanting her to be in danger; even her best camp friend Annabeth, for all she was desperate to go on a quest herself, didn’t think she was good enough to succeed. It didn’t even matter that Lydia was one of the rare Camp Half-Blood campers with an actual power from her godly heritage, that she could cause smaller wounds to heal if she just focused enough; she was always too cheerful, too trusting, too weak for anyone to take her seriously, let alone allow her to put herself in danger just because she wanted the thrill of adventure.

As much as it hurt - as much as she knew everyone else was wrong about her, they had to be - Lydia had resigned herself to always being blocked from what she wanted. She trained as hard as she possibly could every summer, in combat and survival skills and even honing her healing power, striving like Tartarus to be good enough that Chiron would finally deem her ready, and in the meantime, she hung out with Annabeth and dreaded going back to school when the summer ended and tried, always in vain, to get Mr. D to agree to let her arrange a camp-wide musical production. But she’s been going to Camp Half-Blood since she was seven, and now she’s twelve, and it’s starting to seem like the opportunity for her to go on a quest is never going to come… until Percy Jackson stumbles into camp having just killed a minotaur and is told he’ll have to locate Zeus’s Master Bolt and prevent an Olympus-wide war.

Seeing her chance finally arriving, and not about to let the fact that half-blood quests are typically done in threes stop her, Lydia sneaks out of camp and follows Percy, Grover, and Annabeth, gleeful when it’s too late to send her back by the time they even realize she’s come along. She’s absolutely thrilled to finally be taking part in a quest, to experience the high stakes and adventure she’s been aching for for so long - until their little band nearly gets turned to stone and killed by a chimera in rapid succession, and Lydia starts to think that maybe everyone was right about her not being ready for this after all.

Still, though, Lydia does have her best friend, a really nice satyr, and a sarcastic forbidden kid who’s actually kind of cute, as well as her typical bright smile, boundless determination, and arsenal of classic musical theatre songs. So maybe, just maybe, this quest that she isn’t even supposed to be on might not turn out so terribly after all.

If Zeus doesn’t smite her for helping the kid he suspects to be a thief. Or her father doesn’t smite her for going on a quest without his permission. Or her moms don’t ground her for life when they find out, or Chiron doesn’t give her that disappointed look he does so well, or all four of them don’t get killed along the way, or - okay, why did she leave camp again? ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @oneirataxia-girl, @ocappreciationtag.

[daddyhausen]

My friend may I request a threesome with Matt and Hangman please? Thank you 🙏

• share — hangman adam page + matt jackson •

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{ masterlists } | { aew masterlist } | { hangman adam page masterlist } | { matt jackson masterlist }

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{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact }, threesome, double penetration, double vaginal penetration, dirty talk, hair pulling, biting, spanking, breeding kink body worship, nipple play, use of sex toys, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, male + female orgasms, forced orgasms, anal sex, vaginal sex, rough sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, , squirting, internal cumshots, anal + vaginal creampies

{ word count } — 567

{ pairing } — fem!reader x hangman adam page x matt jackson

{ genre } — smut

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{ taglist } — @stxrrlightwrites13 @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @legit9thlunaticwarrior @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @baybay-boom @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @eddie-kingstons-wifey @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

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your mind was numb

completely void of any thought and emotion

fingers desperately clinging to the sheets

hips bucking back against the force of their thrusts 

matt laid beneath you, teasing and toying with your clit

aided by the use of the mini wand vibrator in his right hand

the bulb of the toy humming against your delicate pearl with merciless thrums 

each vibration made your cunt clench around his thick shaft 

“that’s it’s sweetheart, take it nice and deep” 

his voice deeper than usual

accompanied by a soft growl that rumbled in his throat

eyes flickering to the blonde behind you every once in a while 

adam hovered above you

the cowboy’s hand woven in your hair, tugging lightly 

burying himself into your tight little ass

instantly bottoming out as he filled out to the brim

the sensation of both their cocks was riveting 

feeling so utterly full of them

“look at you, darlin’ such a pretty little cockslut for us”

you whimpered at adam’s words, that and the flooding sensation of your first orgasm between your thighs 

“so fucking beautiful…”

matt muttered against your chest

his tongue drawing featherlight circles against your nipples 

the perky buds hardening against the flat of the appendage 

eventually clasping his lips around one, nipping and twirling it between his teeth 

adam mimicked his actions slightly

the cowboy bared his teeth, sinking them, albeit harder than matt, into you shoulder

a yelp of pleasure left your lips at the concoction of pleasure they had created

“cum for us, doll…”

“can’t…not ready-“

“then we’ll make you cum, princess” 

matt increased the speed of the vibrator as he did with his thrusts 

adam follows suit, a harsh slap ringing around the bedroom as his hand came down on against your plump ass cheek

both their cocks slamming into you with such a delicious, violent force 

leaving your mind in a blurry, fucked out mess

“fuckfuckfuck-“ you mumbled against matt’s shoulder through a chorus of whines

one of which made both men crack the faintest of smiles 

“god…i’m close” adam mumbled against your shoulder

matt simply nodded in agreement, holding onto your hip the air in his movements

“gonna fuck a baby into you, princess” matt pulled your head down roughly, planting a sweet kiss to your lips 

“not if i get to her first” adam repeated matt’s actions with a more aggressive kiss

“oh fuck-“ matt groaned through clenched teeth

pumping his hot seed deep into your tight, fertile cunt 

adam was quick to follow

his thick cock buried deep into your ass, filling your void until you were left dripping with his seed

adam quickly pulled out of your ass, joining matt inside your sweet, dripping pussy

a gasp caught in your throat, pretty cunt stretched around both their cocks 

they continued to fuck you through their orgasms 

not fully satisfied until you made a mess on both their cocks

matt held your hips down, kissing you simultaneously 

all the while adam littered your skin with bite marks and kisses

your felt yourself unravelling around them, cum gushing down your thighs 

your cunt spasming around their cocks with thick thrums of pleasure 

“fuck darlin’-“ the cowboy grunted against your shoulder, admiring the way you arched yourself into his chest

“such a good girl for us” matt added breathlessly 

“switch over” adam mentioned. “now it’s my turn to cum in her cunt”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

[p1325]

FIFTY FIFTY, Kaliii - Barbie Dreams (Ghost Remix) PinkPantheress - Angel (Gum's Old School Rave Mix) Nicki Minaj - Super Bass (Dan Whitfield & Bren F Club Mix) Cyndi Lauper - Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (DJ Paul Harwood Club Mix) Janet Jackson - All For You (Aruhtra Club Mix) Spice Girls - Never Give Up On The Good Times (Luin's Chancer Club Mix) Gwen Stefani - Rich Girl (Aurenz Club Mix) Billie Eilish - What Was I Made For (Tyreson Remix) Lady Gaga - Plastic Doll (Brett Oosterhaus Club Mix) Dua Lipa - Dance The Night (I-Mott vs Moto Blanco Club Mix) Danii Minogue - All I Wanna Do (DJ Joey The Hatt Club Mix) The Pussycat Dolls - When I Grow Up (Junior Caldera Club Mix) Marina & The Diamonds - Primadonna (The Darkside Club Mix) Lizzo - Pink (Dario Xavier Club Mix) Hilary Duff - Come Clean (CG's Dramatic Club Mix) Beyonce, Jay Z - Crazy In Love (Clavette & Racket Club Mix) Doja Cat - Say So (Colin Jay & Karl B Bootleg Club Mix) Aqua - Barbie Girl (Perky Park Club Mix) Kim Petras - I Don't Want It At All (Cristian Poow Club Mix) Britney Spears - Anticipating (Antoine Clamaran Club Mix) Kylie Minogue - Celebration (DJ Joey The Hatt Club Mix) Madonna - Material Girl (Michael Voigt Club Mix) Katy Perry, Snoop Dogg - California Gurls (Tommy Love Club Anthem Mix) Ariana Grande - 7 Rings (Mike Soriano Club Mix)

[cianmarstoo]

fuck it friday

cause i got distracted before i could post this on wednesday hahaha so here's a look at the family dinner party with Amelia and Carolyn Shepherd visiting the family in Seattle, with Meredith acting all perky, and Alex having undiagnosed adhd

Alex fidgeted in his seat at the dining table, it was done up with a tablecloth, and candles which he’d been told multiple times he wasn’t allowed to touch, and had now been moved fully away from him. The table was completely full, both with chairs around the table, with people, and with food filling up the table.  His mommy was still smiling looking very weird: it wasn’t her usual smile, he liked his mommy’s normal smile, and how she would usually roll her eyes, and joke and talk, but now she was talking all… high and too happy, and giggling, and agreeing with everything his Grammy said, it was just… wrong. It wasn’t his mommy.   There was also some gross fish on the table taking his attention. His daddy had tried to encourage him to have some, telling him the salmon would be good for his brain, but had given up when Alex had made barfing noises. So instead his plate had been loaded up with some of the pasta and meatballs and garlic bread. Jackson and April both had some of both the salmon and the pasta.  He pulled his tongue out as April ate some salmon.  “It’s yummy, Alex,” she insisted, “and it’s so-fiscal-rated.” “It’s gross.” “This one’s nice,” Jackson told him diplomatically, “an’ uncle Derek maked it, you like uncle Derek’s cookin’.” “Nuh uh, he maked salad and yucky broccoli,” Alex protested, “only spastgetti good.” April glared at him, “That’s ‘cause you’re a baby.” “No I’m not!” “You’re babier than me.” “He’s not a baby,” Jackson frowned at her, “that’s not nice April.” “He is littler than me and you though,” she protested, her cheeks were now bright pink and burning.  “You’re eatin’ Nemo!” “NO I AM NOT! YOU’RE A DUMB BABY!” Alex didn’t bother with words: He didn’t like how everyone was acting weird, Mark and Owen were acting nervous, his mommy was broken, his Grammy was frowning at his mommy like she didn’t understand her, and even his daddy was being weird, he kept looking at Amelia who was trying to avoid looking at him, which was weird because Alex liked her a lot- she was good at building towers and good at making them fall, which made her one of Alex’s new favourite people.  Then there was April, calling Alex a dumb baby.  That was the breaking point.  Alex didn’t bother with words.  He grabbed one of the meatballs from his plate and threw it at April, hitting her on the face.  Everyone fell silent. “Al-” April picked up some of her salmon, throwing it at her cousin across the table, but Alex ducked down, and the salmon hit Jackson.  Jackson didn’t hesitate, throwing salad at both April and Alex.  Before any of the adults could do anything the three littles started to throw food across the table, hitting each other and the adults at the table. Their dads all tried to say their names to get them to stop, but they were all ignored. “Stop this, right now!” 

tagging @anewkindofme and @alessiankarev and literally anyone else who wants to do it!

[devirtute]

@demonsofsin asked: 𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝙶𝙸𝙵 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 24m/f (one of my muses with a p*ssy and one of yours?)

MEME: 𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝙶𝙸𝙵 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 STATUS: accepting

the mechanic had frequented the gas station quite a lot because of his line of business. this time though, he looted around even after the tank was fully loaded up. he rubbed jackson's perky ass over their skirt before he lifted his hand up. "you want that fat tip, don't you?" he snickered to himself, knowing that the statement could have been two folded. he brought the hand down on a harsh spank, running his hand over jackson's rimmed hole and cunt. "didn't know that gas attendants dressed so slutty nowadays."

[mr-j-s]

If you are under 21, you are not welcome here, this isn’t for you.

If you pass the age check, please note:

this blog has TWs - expect all legal forms of erotic as listing would be too long, main focus is on DOM/SUB and CNC. If this isn’t your thing, that’s okay, don’t scroll if it’s going to negatively affect you.

If you’re currently in a vulnerable place, please leave.

This blog is fantasy and a place to explore. Feel free to send me a message.

With all that said and done…

Welcome to Silver’s den.

You may call me Jackson, Jack, Silver or Sir

(he/him)

Enter my blog and let me enter your mind, let me consume your thoughts and manipulate them to align with my own selfish desires.

Everyone needs some way to unwind, I prefer to control pretty princesses and write erotic stories

I’m turning 30 and I have a wealth of experience, but still plenty to learn. I work hard everyday, so I play hard when I get home with my sub waiting for me.

Primarily I am a dom, with a lust for new experiences, but I do enjoy switching it up, feeling uncomfortable in the control of another to push my boundaries.

Sexuality? Pansexual. I’m attracted to all things curvy and/or perky.

I’m vocal 🎤 I’m greedy 🍩

I’m giving 🎁

Main k!nks?

CNC ✔️ freeuse ✔️ dom/sub ✔️ ropeplay ✔️ brat ✔️ Assplay ✔️

Turn offs?

Ageplay ❌ Daddy ❌ Weaponplay ❌ Shit ❌

There’s no greater sight, than the moment their eyes change, when they submit themselves to you fully.

The next best thing is cuddling after, eating pizza and watching something shit on the TV

With all that said, welcome to the den, feel free to chat and enjoy 😉