#see the tongue in the third gif?

[x-exo-l]

Love in The Air EP. 1 × DESIRE

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - y/n jane porter (you) decides to prove men wrong by searching for the lost man, and you happen upon him after insulting a bunch of baboons, only to realise that you will never leave again.

warning - smut, dubcon, chase, marking, insulting animals, swearing, oral sex, creampie, kidnapping/held hostage?

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You huffed as you stalked the forest, searching for a man who had been lost to the world. Explorers have searched high and low for him but have yet to succeed. You were determined to be different, to prove to them that you could find the lost man. Secretly though, you knew he would be feral, not even knowing what a woman was and the pleasure you could bring him. You hiked up your light yellow dress, white-gloved hands scrunching the material between your fists. You spin when you hear a sound, looking up into the trees, and your eyes widen when you notice the many baboons staring down at you. 

“Oh, hello.” You look closer, squinting your eyes and scrunching your nose. “You’re quite ugly creatures, aren’t you?” You stumble back when they begin to screech, looking ready to attack, and you put your hands up. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just…” Your words are lost to them, and you start running as some of them jump from the trees and chase you, the others swinging through the branches. You pick up your pace, dodging trees and rocks, trying your best not to trip or get caught. You feel your breath shorten, and your lungs burn. A scream escapes you as your foot gets caught on a root, but before you can fall, something or someone grabs you, swinging you away from the baboons. 

You screw your eyes shut, not daring to look at what had grabbed you, feeling it would be better if you didn’t see what fate had planned for you. Your brows scrunched as you felt whoever or whatever was placing you down softly, and your eyes widened when you opened them, noticing the man everyone had been searching for. The lost man had saved you from being torn to shreds, and the excitement caused a jolt between your legs. You scanned his physic, noticing how tanned and beautiful he looked. Your eyes landed on his face lastly, eyeing the moustache and imagining what it would feel like in between your thighs, his unbrushed hair all curled and wild, like him. 

Tangerine’s head tilts, doing the same to you. He was curious, never having seen someone like you before. He’s seen others that look like him, but none so… Beautiful, so soft looking. He licked his lips, scanning you like you were a meal for him to feast on. He glared when you lifted your hand, and you returned it with a soft smile. “It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you… I’m Y/n Jane Porter. Do you have a name?” Tangerine grunts, lifting his hand and cautiously placing it against yours, thinking of his words. You squeeze your legs together at his touch, causing his eyes to snap down to the sweet nectar that lies between your thighs. 

Tangerine’s hand moves from yours and taps his chest. “Tangerine.” Your eyes widen as the words fall from his lips, and you offer a soft smile.

“Like the fruit?” Your head tilts, knowing another name that would fit him. Tarzan stays on the tip of your tongue as you watch him.

He grunts again and stops, looking around before roughly grabbing you, causing a gasp to pass your lips. “Danger.” He growls. You are lifted onto the large man’s shoulders again as he begins to swing away just in time as the baboons swing, missing you by inches. Tangerine lands roughly on the ground. After a while of swinging and making sure you were no longer being followed, he lets you get off of him. You fall as your legs feel shaky, and you stumble back. He spins, eyeing you more, gazing at your exposed legs. 

You clear your throat, brushing the dirt from your dress. “Thank you again.” Your chest moves up and down as you breathe heavily. You try and keep your eyes from looking at the bulge hidden behind the tiny cloth. Tangerine’s eyes lock to your heaving chest. You watch as they become black, filling with feral lust. He stalks towards you, backing you into a tree. You feel your cunt pulse, the large man turning you on. “W–what are you doing?” You gulp, squeezing your thighs together when he traps you against the wood.

“Me do you.” Tangerine growls. He grabs your hips, dragging you onto the ground and climbing over you. “Stay… Still.” He grunts, trapping you with his large body and rubbing his bulge against your dripping cunt. Tangerine had never felt something so incredible, and he hadn’t even explored that far yet. He sits on his legs, looking down at you with dark eyes filled with lust and hunger, growling as your dress becomes annoying. Tangerine grips the material, shredding it and causing you to squeal and squeeze your thighs together, feeling yourself clench around nothing. “Annoying” You don’t know why, but this feral man's few words turn you on. 

You whimper, subconsciously spreading your legs for him, watching his mouth open and close as he glares between your legs, watching your pretty pussy drip. Tangerine growls as he dives in, lapping at your sweet cunt. Your back arches, and you let out a scream that echoes through the many trees. Your hands curl into the ground, legs slamming shut around his head as he continues to feast on your cunt, licking and sucking, wrapping his lips around your swollen pearl and sucking, flicking the sensitive little bud with his tongue. You move your hand into his hair, gripping the untamed locks, pulling him closer. “O–Oh! That feels so good!” You exclaim, feeling the band inside you tighten, ready to snap. “Keep going, please!” Your eyes screw shut, and your toes curl, but suddenly everything stops, and you open them again. “What are you doing? Why did you stop?” You felt furious, sexually frustrated. This was the most pleasure you had felt in your entire life, and you couldn’t let it slip from your fingertips. 

Tangerine growls and your eyes widen when you watch him grab himself. The tiny cloth has tented massively and keeps nothing hidden. He rips the pathetic material from his body and throws it aside, tilting his head as you make an embarrassingly loud choking sound. You look at him and back to his cock repeatedly, staring with your mouth open. “That’s not going to fit inside me.” Even as you say those words, your walls clench as you watch his cock twitch. 

Tangerine grunts, shrugging. He crawls on top of you, forcefully placing your legs onto his shoulder and tapping your gaping hole with his swollen tip. “Fit.” You gasp as he begins to push in, his hair covering his face as he puts his head down, never having felt something so good. “Good” The grunt he lets out causes you to clench around him and his hips to thrust forward, forcing his way deeper inside you. Your head rolls back into the dirt, closing your eyes as he picks up his pace, releasing the animal buried deep inside of him. Tangerine slams hard and fast into you, his cock so large it feels like he’s in your stomach. If possible, the bulge that forms causes him to become even more feral.

Your hands fly up and grip his arms, digging your nails into him before whimpering when he pulls out and flips you around, pushing your face into the dirt and lifting your hips before plunging back into you, grunting and growling as he fucks you like an animal. Your mouth falls open, and your eyes roll back, clawing into the ground and clutching onto it, trying to find something to ground yourself too. Tangerine grips your hips, pounding against you, moaning when he feels you grip his cock like a vice, dragging him deeper into you and allowing him to hit your sweet spot repeatedly. “Ah! Oh! Fuck… Right there!” You whine, fucking and grinding your hips back into him, wanting to feel him more. 

Tangerine pulls out again, your mind too fuzzy to get angry as he grabs you and pushes you against the tree, wrapping your legs around his waist and reentering your sweet cunt. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, mouth open in a silent scream as he fucks up into you, his lips against your neck, marking you as his. You are so close, feeling your walls pulsate and clench around the feral man, feeling so dirty and full. “I–I’m close!” Tangerine grunts, slamming harder into you, pinning you against the tree, not caring if the bark marks your flesh. Your vision goes white, and your body goes slack in his arms as your orgasm rips through you, squeezing his cock and coating it with your cream.

A growl rips through the large man. Tangerine bites into your shoulder, fucking deeper as he feels his balls tighten. He had only experienced this when he’d touch himself, teasing his cock and balls until he was close to cumming before stopping and repeating. He knew the release would feel amazing, causing him to continue to thrust, his hand moving between your bodies, locating your swollen, sensitive clit and rubbing. Your back arches, causing another orgasm to rip through you, and Tangerine groans, releasing his cum deep inside you, filling you with thick amounts as you squeeze his cock.

Your head slumps against his chest, your chest moving up and down heavily as you try and catch your breath. Your walls pulsate around his still-hard cock, wondering how he could still be ready for more. Tangerine cups the back of your neck, grunting as he makes you look at him. He grins, leaning close as he slowly begins to thrust again. “Mine.” 

The growl can still be heard as you realise you will never be able to leave again, but maybe that was a good thing.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[fannyspammy]

Third Row Back

Minho x Reader

Summary: Minho & y/n get freaky during a celebration (+ a little Newt x y/n tease)

Warnings: PWP, public sex, fingering, unprotected sex, daddy kink (cuz y’all know Minho would have one), exhibitionism/voyeurism

A/N: writing for minho made me miss my fav sassy glader so here is smt spicy with him. also y/n is a freak. that is it.

[not my gif]

It was dark apart from the warm glow of the bonfire, and even that illuminated only so much. By the third row of logs, you’d barely be visible— those sitting in the front row would get all the light. Which was perfect for what Minho had planned for y/n.

Y/n sat comfortably between his legs in that convenient third row, his arms wrapped tightly around her. His fingers played with the hem of her short skirt, one she’d made herself for occasions such as this.

Minho whispered against her neck, “I love this skirt on you. You should wear it more.”

Y/n laughed. “You want me to wear this around the Glade while you’re off running around the maze all day?”

“Okay, maybe not.” He planted a kiss on her neck. “You cold, babe?” Minho asked in her ear.

Before even hearing y/n’s response he reached into a bag he’d placed behind him, pulling out a large blanket. The blanket could easily fit three under it, so it wrapped around them no problem, a good portion of it dragging onto the ground.

The first round of Gally’s brew came around, and soon all the other Gladers were drunk. Soon everyone was inebriated, & wrestling matches began in the firelight. Minho saw his opportunity.

He placed wet, open kisses on y/n’s neck, and she threw her head back to give more access. Sucking on her sweet spot, he took both breasts into his hands and massaged them gently, playing with her nipples every so often.

Y/n bit her lip to stifle her moans. “Minho, everyone is around.”

“Don’t worry babe, it’s so dark you can barely see us back here, everyone is drunk & focused on what’s happening around the fire, & you’re fully covered by the blanket.” He bit down on her skin and sucked hard.

“You thought this through, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” he smirked against the bruise that was forming where he sucked her.

Minho slid his hands down her abdomen to her core. With one hand he parted her folds to give more access to her clit, and with the other he began to stroke slowly, softly touching the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Y/n’s breath hitched at the sensation, the feel of his touch amidst the party almost overwhelming her senses.

The boy slowly dragged his finger lower, dipping slightly into her entrance. Y/n felt his cock harden against her lower back as he felt how wet she already was for him.

“Turn to me,” he commanded.

Y/n obeyed, turning her head to meet his. He enveloped her in a passionate kiss, tongues wrestling for dominance. His fingers continued their work on her clit, rubbing firmly, and y/n moaned into the kiss, doing her best to keep her volume at a minimum.

There was a lot of noise around them, with all the shouts & hollers & conversations going on, so she wouldn’t have to be fully silent.

As Minho quickened the pace y/n instinctively opened her legs, hooking them behind his calves. As his access widened, Minho brought his other hand to her soaking entrance, sliding two fingers in with little resistance. Y/n arched her back as he curled his fingers inside her, hitting her g-spot.

“Mm, Minho,” she whispered, calling his name as loudly as she could without drawing attention.

Pumping in and out of her, y/n rolled her hips lightly against his hands, creating as much friction as she could with little movement.

Y/n laid her head back against his shoulder, panting through the pleasure. She watched the boys dancing by the fire, and the groups having conversations. The thought of any of them catching the graphic scene playing in the shadows at any moment excited her, and she rolled her hips harder.

Panting through light moans, she cried his name again. “Mm, Minho.. oh- yes, yes baby, yes.”

“You’re so fucking hot babe.” Minho added a third finger and rubbed her clit harder. From there it only took about five minutes before y/n came undone. She continued her faint moans as he pleasured her through her high, the blanket beginning to slide down her shoulders.

When she finished she pulled the blanket back up with a satisfied sigh. Minho brought his fingers to his lips and sucked the juice off of them, murmuring about how he loved her taste.

Then, the crowd stood up and gathered tighter around the fire, entranced by an intense wrestling match between the latest greenie & one of the other boys. Y/n saw an opportunity.

She quickly turned herself around so she was straddling Minho, keeping the blanket covering as much as she could. As she undid the button of his pants the boy raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing babe?”

“It’s your turn,” she said simply, freeing his hard cock from his underwear. “They’re all distracted right now. But if they catch us… then they can watch.” She smirked seductively, lowering herself onto his length.

Minho groaned in pleasure as he bottomed out, and y/n wasted no time. She rode him steadily, moaning louder this time, matching the volume of the crowd. Quickening her pace, Minho grabbed her ass to support her, helping her deepen her thrusts.

“Ooh, yes baby, just like that. You ride daddy’s dick so well,” he whispered into her ear, sticking his tongue in afterwards and exploring.

“Ooh M-Minho.. oh, yes.. I love how you feel inside me,” she increased her speed again, squeezing her walls against his length. “Oh, daddy, you feel so good! Mm, I love taking your big, fat cock in my tight pussy.”

Minho began to thrust his hips into her harder, keeping one hand on her lower back and the other on the log to steady himself. He panted his words.

“Yeah? You like that? You like taking daddy’s cock like a good girl?”

The blanket was at their waists now, barely covering where their bodies became one.

“Yes! Oh, yes, daddy, yes! Yes! Yes!”

Y/n came for the second time, and Minho followed shortly after. They rode each other through their highs, calling each other’s names as they did, not even caring who heard them.

She slowly pulled herself off of Minho, a mixture of their juices spilling out of her as she turned around to sit with her back against his chest again.

They scanned the scene. The wrestling match was still going, seemingly at its own climax, and the Gladers cheered as the greenie gained dominance.

So no one saw, y/n thought to herself. She hated to admit it, but a part of her wished someone had.

Then, the fire roared stronger for just a second, and in the flash of light, a couple dozen feet away, in the third row of sitting logs, y/n saw him.

Newt sat alone, eyes closed with head thrown back, vigorously pumping his hard length, his lips parted as he moaned and panted in solitude. She couldn’t him, but she could read her name on his lips.

Y/n.

As he levelled his head his eyes opened & met hers.

She smirked at him knowingly, and then turned to kiss Minho, making sure Newt could see how her tongue slipped into his mouth. Dropping the blanket, y/n palmed Minho through his pants. Y/n continued kissing him with one eye open, only pulling away when she saw Newt finish.

[fillinforlater]

Two Selfies and a GIF

Male Reader x Naoi Rei

Length: 2341 words

Tags: lovers on vacation, teasing and tempting, public sex, blowjob, overstimulation, face fuck, gagging, standing sex, anal, sweat, body appreciation, anal creampie, thrill of maybe getting caught

TW: sex in a public space, also barely any editing

Inspiration: an ask from quite some time ago

(A/N: I hope this fic makes you say Holy Moly. @writerpeach because he wanted another Rei piece lol)

“Another sunny day! <3 Hope to see you all soon~”

You jump from your bed. Most of the time, you have no clue where the feeling of deja vu comes from, but this one is still palpable. A year ago, you were on vacation with Rei on some warm, small island nation, blessed with endless sunshine and she sent a similar selfie with a similar caption. Her hair was still brown back then, if your memory serves you right. 

Unlike last time however, you can’t dig straight into her cute pussy. Rei is not on the bed beside you, although that’s where she took the picture. In fact, she’s not even in the hotel room anymore. You check the washroom a final time before looking back down on your phone.

“Where are you?”

“By~ the~ pool~”

The phone has yet to disappear in the pockets of your shorts when you’ve already stormed out of the empty hotel room and towards the elevators. Alright, she said something about going to the pool, you remember, but you didn’t even notice that she took the selfie earlier. Hopefully this won’t end in a chase of never ending teases because you missed the moment she was horny and right next to you. 

You jump out of the elevator and across the lobby, both staff and visitors confused by your hurried, hectic behavior given the calm, vacation atmosphere. Your urgent need to feel your girlfriend's body, to see that face, adorned by beautiful blonde hair, with thick lips and a lewd glint in her eyes, it’s easily overtaking your desire of being perceived as normal. 

“By the pool isn’t accurate enough,” you puff and pant while your eyes go over the many, many pools and parasols and people. It seems Rei isn’t in the water or on one of the loungers, so you once again reach for your phone—just to be greeted by a couple of private messages.

“Still need you to fill these cheeks~ or did you mean my other cheeks?!”

The wink, the tongue bite, the v-pose. She can never post this picture or else all those horny fanboys would blow infinite loads to it (not like they aren’t already doing it; don’t kid yourself). It’s sexy, tempting, only meant for you. You know what she wants, what she needs, what you promised her, yet she continues to play with you.

Until suddenly, another message. A third selfie? Even better.

“I hope you remember where this is~”

The changing booths by the pool. The unmistakable brown walls and baby blue curtains. Rei has complained about their design choice on the day of your arrival, now she’s there doing tik-tok-instagram-dance-challenge-thingys, flaunting what you’ve been craving. Needless to say you sprint there as fast as possible, disregarding all the warning signs about slipper tiles or blissfully ignorant tourists. 

You’re on your way to bliss, and nothing will stop you.

Rei sticks out among the few people in the area. Her tall figure, her blonde hair, not a second later and you get a hold on her shoulders and drag her into the next booth. The Japanese girl doesn’t even seem fazed. 

“There you are,” she sultrily says, eyes on yours through the mirror wall. Good heavens, you forgot about that thing. It’s going to be so much fun. With a single swoop you close the curtain and take a closer look at Rei’s fuckable body through the mirror.

“You look to good not to fuck,” you groan and pinch her cheeks, looking at her duckface, mesmerized by how plump her lips are, how good they will feel. Rei winks again and your hand is already past the waistband of your shorts. “Get on your knees, now.”

Rei’s smile is horny when she pulls down your shorts while getting on eye level with your cock, which jumps free and barely, sadly misses her face with the removal of your briefs. Rei spits in her hand and pumps you, focused on every inch of your hot rod. Suddenly, before any annoyance can urge you to do it yourself, she puts you on her lips. A heavy push that sends you back against the wall later, you're inside her and have to bite a lip to not groan out every profanity known to mankind. 

Feel her tongue swirl around your cockhead while an expression of determination forms on her face. You can see that she is already planning ahead on how to make this the best head she’s ever given you. Rei has an amazing bitch face, but it also fills you with thread. You have to surrender to her mouth, her lips, her tongue—now her hands that grab your hips and then—

“Oh, fuck, ouh fuck!”

Rei slams her head back and forth, your cock going in and out almost fully with every single repetition, while she gags and slobbers on every centimeter she forces into herself. A bizarre thing, face fucking herself on you, for your pleasure, yet you are about to wince for mercy. Rei’s mouth is perfect, but it’s all too fast, without warning she grinds the top, then the back of her tongue on your sensitive slit. You leak, you hiss, you struggle to stand or think.

“Re-Rei, t-too much, fuck.”

Rei pops you free from her lips, but they look eager to go back to it and apply even more pressure on your cock. She firmly holds the base of your dick and glares at you.

“Then do it yourself, pussy. Fill my cheeks already.”

It’s like she’s given you the controller to a video game back; though this is vastly superior than anything you have ever played. You pull at her hair, force her to cry out before flailing backwards against the opposite wall of the booth. This time you lay your cock on her lips on your own merit. 

“I’ll make you take that back.”

Pry her slutty mouth open, hope she is ready for impact and make her entire body convulse when you slam your pelvis into her face. The feeling of her tight, gagging throat is a lot different when you're in control, not better, not worse, though you like that Rei can take your roughness so well.

You close your eyes and begin to thrust, rarely giving her time to breathe, never giving yourself time to rest. The generously wet expedition into Rei's throat both feels like finding something new and being at home. A familiar warm feeling and alien sounds, your girlfriend's deepthroats are one of a kind.

Rei is opportunistic, her tongue now out of her mouth, receiving hits by your balls as you continue to fuck her face. It's one of those days apparently, when she is for some damn reason completely enamored with your sac. Maybe she likes the hisses that escape your lips because of the extra stimulation, maybe she is just impatient and wants what's inside of them.

When her already generously big and round cheeks are the biggest and roundest, you finally pull out and let her cough out the pool of saliva, two smaller pools underneath her eyes are also letting loose. You smack her purple-blue lips with your stiff length.

"I thought you could take it," you laugh at a set of coughs by Rei.

"I, hng, thought you'd fill my cheeks.

"Loser."

"Okay, get up."

Cheeky grin on her lips, Rei pushes herself off the ground and you push up something of your own, her tight crop top. You struggle to get the white fabric over her bountiful tits, but she is quick to help you by stretching out her arms high in the air. After a couple of tugs, you see the two massive melons bounce freely—or not. Two laughably tiny patches of silk, connected to each other and Rei’s neck form a bikini that is definitely too sexy for this pool, for any pool. 

“You really wanted to go out there wearing this?” you question, a finger already hooked in one of the patches.

“No, that’s why I’m still here~”

“Then it’s confiscated.”

A single pull and the bikini top falls off as if spider webs held it together. Now they are free, Rei’s magnificent melons, round like her cheeks, soft like her thighs, the nipples stiff like you. Before you give them a squeeze however, you surprise your girlfriend by roughly yanking up her skirt to above her hips. Rei yelps and loses her balance, but one of her hands finds safety on the mirror, mirror on the wall.

“Very unlike you to not go straight for my chest,” Rei teases, her voice still stable though her stand becomes a lot less stable when you get behind her and plant her firmly in front of the mirror. Now she needs both hands to not fall over with how you manhandle her light yet astoundingly thick frame. 

“They will get enough appreciation later.” Put emphasis on these words by nibbling her ear. She trembles in excitement.”I want to hear you say it again.”

“Say what again?” Rei once more teases, as you hook a finger into the flimsy excuse of a thong she’d call a stylish bikini, ready to reveal both her aroused entrances. “Oh, that. 

“I need you to fill my ass cheeks with your sticky load, pretty please.”

So fake, so lewd, yet so incomparably preposterous. The moment her bikini bottom falls down her long legs, Rei presses her bottom against your cock and it takes barely any effort for you to get it inside her. Talking about bottom, you're close to bottoming out, but Rei’s cute yet also growling cry has you scrambling to find something to gag her. You’re still in public, she can’t be that loud. All you find is the pathetic bikini, which you shove into her pretty little mouth. 

“I’m going to fuck you good, but keep it down,” you groan into her ear and give in to the risky, yet irresistible desire to plow her ass. Rei is trying her best, munching and soaking the green in her mouth rather than screaming out your name. You’ll buy her a new, better bikini after this anyways. If she’d ran around in that thing for more than a minute, then you’d need to fuck her the rest of your vacation and that would be—wait, would you even mind that?

You’d do it like this all day long, her wrists in your grasp, her body slightly tilted towards the mirror while you watch her tits bounce with every thrust into her tight back entrance. Rei is at your mercy, only upright because you want to. Each inch you pull out has her scrambling for footing, but you gladly give them back to her, into her, to the point where exactly this has her knees buckling. 

“Fuck you’re so… suffocating,” you mumble, the heat from your crotch spread up to your head long ago. The same goes for Rei: a hand on her freely jumping tits confirms it. Her eyes roll into the back of her head when you roll a nipple in between two lazy fingers. It’s not much, but you swear it made her even tighter and less stable. 

You lift a leg of hers, feel the sweaty meat of her full thigh make your hand sink deep. It reminds you of a pillow, a comfortable bed—now a waterbed because her orgasm is wet. Rei surrenders her beautiful back onto your chest, eyes closed, mouth ready to voice her pleasure but she has to keep it shut. Outside are people, laughing, gossiping, going about their lives. And in here, you recklessly pound in the still sensitive Rei.

It’s incredible how she still relaxes around you, how easy it is to fill her with a girthy cock. Honest to God, it has you tripping, forward, against the cold mirror. Rei spits out her bikini-gag when her hard nubs touch the reflective surface. You’d stop her ensuing moans from escaping her mouth, but you have to hold onto her thigh and breast. There are just not enough hands to touch every perfect part of her body—and her lips are definitely on that list.

Your orgasm is nigh, hence why you thrust frantically, the claps of a nye pelvis on nye ass now also louder than any background noise if someone is close enough. You can already hear the murmurs from behind the curtains. Someone whispers about hearing weird sounds—you have to bust before you get busted.

Rei’s fishnet-covered foot crawls up a wall. Fucking is now easier, so you put in the final gear and reach for her hips to to smash her back into you. Everything is too loud, too lewd; Rei’s expression, your expression, your combined groans, all the sweaty and love juice trailing down your legs—

The connection of your cock in her ass as if explodes on the final thrust you can muster up. Rei’s anal cavity is stretched and now stuffed to the fullest to the point where pulling out will cause a mess of cataclysmic proportions. You have to stay inside her for longer, plug up the cum filled hole as it sluttily clenches around your sensitive cock. 

“Fuck, that was perfect,” Rei groans, her body limp between you and the mirror. You look at her and smile for a second. That round face, adorable, makes for great selfies and family pictures. Mere moments ago, it was drooling and moaning uncontrollably. The duality of Rei.

“Yeah, but how the fuck do we clean this up?” you ask, hands mindlessly on your girlfriend's chest.

“I don’t know, I haven't planned for this scenario. I thought you’d fuck my face and I could swallow it all and then you could fill my ass in the hotel room.”

“Well, we can still do that, but we now need to get out of here.” You try to think for a second before your eyes fall on the fallen bikini thong on the floor. You stop massaging Rei’s breasts and instead reach for her pussy, wet and flushed. “By the way, what was your goal with that ‘bikini’?”

“O-oh, you really don’t like it?”

“It’s just that I wouldn’t be able to help myself but fuck you if you wore that. It’s way too revealing. I don’t want anyone seeing the pussy I fuck and the ass I fill and the tits I fondle—”

“So you want no one seeing me?” Rei moans softly when you rub her clit.

“Yes, cause I love you so fucking much, Rei.”

“Ts, looooser~”

[indifferent-depravity]

Stress Relief

Minors DNI 18+

cw: unnegotiated choking (do your research and talk to your partner first folks!), semi-public sex, angry Carmen

gif made by me

A/N: don't forget requests for everything are open so if you'd like to see anything from me feel free to drop it in my ask box :)

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~~~

“What the fuck is going on?”

Somehow your voice cuts through Carmy’s near-frantic screaming, bringing the whole kitchen to a standstill. Even Carmy shuts up, looking over at you, chest heaving. You cross your arms, glaring at him. “Carmy, office.” You say firmly, voice raising again when he doesn’t move, “Now, Chef!” He unfreezes and stalks towards you, the veins in his neck becoming visible as you gesture towards the office.

You follow him in and slam the door shut, taking a deep breath as you wait for the noises of the kitchen to start back up before you whirl around to glare at him. “What the fuck is your problem, Carm? Do you want them to walk out?” He keeps his eyes trained on the ground, his hands curling and uncurling into fists. You huff and step into his line of sight, bending to force him to look at you, “Answer me, Carmen! Do you want them to wa-“

You’re cut off as he wraps a hand around your throat, backing you up against the desk. Carmen leans his face close to yours, anger contorting his features as his grip tightens around your throat, just enough to make your breaths come out in gasps. “I wouldn’t yell if they weren’t fucking idiots. It’s like they do it on fucking purpose,” he says, a cold, harsh tone lacing his words as he forces your head back.

He bites along your jaw, soothing the sting with his tongue and you whine, your anger melting as your cunt starts to throb. His free hand slides up the inside of your thigh, rubbing you through your pants. “Take these off,” he orders sharply and you bite your lip,  hands falling to the button of your pants, fumbling for a second in the small space between your bodies.

The second your pants fall to the floor, Carmen pushes his hand between your thighs again, groaning as his fingers glide through your wet folds. “Figures. Such a little whore for me, huh? Little pussy getting wet from my hand around your throat.” You moan weakly, eyes rolling back as he sinks his fingers into your core. The stretch sends shocks of pleasure up your spine, a tightness growing in your stomach with each pump of his fingers.

Carmen pushes a third finger inside of you and curls them, a smirk growing on his face as you shudder under him. He grinds his palm against your clit as his fingers speed up, a wet filthy noise filling the small office as he forces you over the edge with another curl of his fingers. Tears burn your eyes and you writhe under him, a fire burning through your veins as he fingers you through your orgasm.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, staring you down as he sucks your wetness off them. He releases your throat long enough to spin you around, pulling your hips back against the hard ridge of his cock. His hand finds your throat again as he frees his cock from its confines, sliding the head through your folds. “Is this what you wanted when you came out and yelled at me, little slut? Needed my cock in you so bad you’d disrupt service for it?”

You whine, shaking your head even as your hips push back against him. Carmen lets out a mocking laugh, teasing your entrance with the tip, “No? Is that why you're pushing your ass out like that? Because you don’t want me to fuck you?” Tears fill your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks as he pulls you back against his cock, slowly filling you inch by torturous inch.

His hand tightens around your throat and he sinks his teeth into the place where your neck meets your shoulder, pulling his cock out until only the tip remains before slamming his hips forward, filling you in one smooth thrust. You cry out, hands hitting the wall as he starts up a punishing rhythm, your knees weakening with each glide of his cock.

“Tha-at’s it, sweet girl, y’like that don’t you?” He growls in your ear, running his free hand down your body. You hiccup out a cry, nodding the best you could with his hand around your throat, a fuzzy feeling filling your head as you fly towards another orgasm. You crumple the flyers tacked to the wall as the dam breaks inside of you with a shudder, tears finally falling down your cheeks as your head falls back against his shoulder.

Carmen hums, loosening his grip on your throat as he nips and sucks marks along your jaw and neck. His fingers find your clit, pressing quick, tight circles against it as he fucks into you roughly. Your knees buckle as you’re pushed into a third orgasm before you can recover from your second. He wraps his arm around your waist, easily keeping you upright without stopping his movements.

He moans into your ear, thrusts becoming frantic as he chases his own pleasure. His chest heaves against your back, low moans falling from his lips as he nears his end. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he pushes his cock as deep as he can, filling you with his seed with a grunt. Carmen slumps over you, keeping you pinned against him as he catches his breath. Heavy breathing fills the small office, only broken by the clatter of pans coming from the kitchen, bringing you back to the present. He pulls out with a sigh, turning you to press a gentle kiss to your lips. He kneels in front of you, helping you ease your pants up your shaky legs. You clumsily maneuver to the desk chair, gripping Carmen’s hand tightly as your legs threaten to give out.

He tucks himself away and leans down for a quick peck to your lips, “Thanks, baby.” He’s gone before you could answer with the gentle click of the door shutting. You snort, shaking your head at his antics as you hear him back in the kitchen again, calmer than he had been all service.

Once you regain control of your legs again, you go back to the front to help Richie with orders, giving him a smile in greeting. He lets out a low whistle, not caring to hide the way he stared at you. Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion, “Can I… help you?”

He laughs, abandoning the sandwich he was wrapping to poke at one of the marks on your neck, “No, I just figured out why Carmy came out of the office in a better mood, that’s all.” Your hands fly up to your throat, a deep blush staining your face as you hurry to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, you groan at the sight of the dark marks littering your neck, bruises showcasing a set of teeth already setting on your shoulders and neck. The kicker is, and this is what made you yell Carmy’s name, a clear outline of his hand wrapping around your throat.

You duck your head into the kitchen on your way back to the counter, a scowl growing on your face when you spot Carmen innocently working, nothing to show for the way he just fucked the life out of you. “Carmy, I’m going to kill you!” He looks up long enough to give you a cheeky smirk, winking at you before turning to the stove with his back to you.

You’re grumbling as you return to the counter, tugging on your collar as if you would be able to hide the marks with it. Richie sidles up beside you, “So, how long has Carmy been a choker? Because me and Mikey, we figured him as a vanilla type.” You groan, thumping your head against the counter, lifting a hand to flip him off. He laughs and pats you on the back, “Y’know maybe we should make some scarves with our logo so next ti-'' You cut him off by jabbing your elbow towards his stomach and he jumps out of the way with a laugh. “C’mon sweetheart, I’m being helpful!”

You lift your head to level him with a glare and he starts laughing harder, pulling another groan from your lips as you drop your head back down onto the counter, “Shut the fuck up, Richie!”

[pinguwrites]

Whenever you feel like it (if you want to write this one), soft!dark!Tom Buckley and housewife kink…this request was inspired by the part where Tom said “I have nothing against housewives…my mom happens to be one!” Sksksksksksskksksks

🤭 🤭 I love this so much

Drabble: Tom can’t help but breed you

Pairing -> tom buckley x housewife!reader

Warnings: DUB-CON, implied Tom is making good money which I don’t think is true in the movie lol, overstimulation, dark!soft!tom, reader’s a housewife, she’s lowkey isolated, possesive!tom, breeding kink

Disclaimer: Red Lights characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun. + gif is from wifflegif.com.

Tom Buckley liked to think that he was the perfect husband. He was, wasn’t he? He worked a job at the university, bringing home money for you to use and spend as you wished. He took care of you and protected you, to the point where you weren’t allowed to go out of the house unless you had his permission, and he always pleased you as best he could, making love to you until you were begging and pleading him for his mercy.

In return, he asked for nothing but your affection. For you kiss him all over his face, to cuddle up next to him on the couch, to cook him dinner and clean the house. Nothing but that—except until now.

He knew he wanted to have kids with you from the moment you two started dating. It was something you both agreed on before getting married, but you weren’t in a rush to get started, and while all Tom wanted to do was bend you over on his bed and breed your pussy, he wanted to make sure you were ready.

When he came back home from work earlier today, ready to greet his beautiful wife and fall asleep in your arms, he saw you taking care of the neighbor’s kids while their parents were out, and was immediately sent into a primal frenzy.

He didn’t care if you wanted to wait longer. He had to get you pregnant. You were so perfect with children, all motherly-like and angelic — this proved it, it was your calling.

“You know, I can’t wait to be a dad,” he had murmured against your neck after you dropped the kids off, leaving kisses on your collarbone. “I can’t wait anymore.”

You were surprised at his words, but liked them nonetheless. You had giggled, enjoying your husband’s touch, when he suddenly pushed you into his room and shoved you onto your bed.

After getting you warmed up, he pulled out his cock and plunged it into your hole, not relenting for a moment even as you asked him to slow down.

His kisses were rough and forceful, his tongue slipping inside your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you both as he hit inside of you, ready to come again, and again, and again, no matter how overstimulated he got, no matter how tired he felt.

“You can take it,” Tom said in your ear when you tried to push him away. “You can take my cock. I know it’s big, but all you have to do is lie there, okay? We’re not — augh — we’re not stopping until I’m satisfied you’ve been filled.”

“I have been!” you cried out, but Tom chose to ignore his cum leaking out of you. “I’m pregnant! I’m pregnant!”

He chuckled at your weak protests. “I have to make sure,” he groaned, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Don’t pretend like you don’t need this.”

He could feel himself getting exhausted. After the third orgasm, his legs began to shake and his thrusts became more sloppy and slow. You still kept squirming, but he could see your eyes start to glaze over, your mind going dumb.

“My sweet wife,” he praised softly, coming inside of you again with a shudder. He held your hips in place, making sure he was as deep inside of you as he could, pressing up against that swollen spot inside of you, until about a minute passed and he pulled out, his panting almost covering the sound of squelching.

He collapsed beside you on the bed, taking a few moments to recover his breath. The blanket had fallen to the ground, but he wasn’t in a rush to pick it up.

Once he regained his clarity he turned to you and placed a hand on your belly, caressing it gently, before leaning over and planting kisses all over it.

“I’ll be perfect,” he promised. “The perfect father. I’ll take care of you and our baby. Don’t worry about a thing.”

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

[holybibly]

Hello~~ I've previously asked anonymously but I wanna send pics and gifs, so I'm uncovering my identity batman style to lose my mind over Seonghwa 🤭🫣

Like what?? 😭😭

This man man makes me lose my mind so bad, like every picture I see of him just flips a switch in my brain and suddenly *I'm* the rabid wolf chasing after a pretty bunny

I feel like he'd maybe try to be really dominant at first but would so easily let himself be flipped and ruined, I wanna blow this man's mind fr

This picture even has his hands in the perfect position to tie them up ahsjshshsj someone take my internet away please 😭😭

Firstly, hi baby, good to see you. Secondly, should I even mention that I have been drooling over him on a daily basis? God, I think the Ateez have ruined my mind just a little bit. Third, I'm going to go and make that damn fic with the cute hybrid Hwa. So we can all (I really hope) quench our thirst for the whining, submissive, and subservient Seonghwa. God, I fucking need this. I am needy and not ashamed.

In the meantime, I give you this. Have fun, my brave bunny.

"God, why must you be so beautiful? Is that fair?" You coo, running your thumb over the sugary brown flesh of his nipple. He twitches at the touch—too sensitive. "Too beautiful, annoying."

Seonghwa's arms are lifted and tied to the bed frame with silk ribbons, leaving him helpless and writhing as you deny him his second orgasm of the night, bringing him to the brink of pleasure before you withdraw. He lets out a soft, needy whimper as he is unable to make any other sounds.

He looks lost in his pleasure, his pupils dilating so that only a small ring of iris can be seen, his sensuous lips parted, and his chest rising and falling in small breathless sighs.

"Oh, darling, you sound so anxious. Don't you want to cum already, my beautiful boy?" Your teasing elicits another moan from Seonghwa as you delicately run your fingernail along the bulging vein on his cock. He twitches in response.

Overstimulated, Seonghwa closes his big, shining eyes and pushes his hips into your hand, hoping to feel some kind of friction. You chuckle weakly and lower yourself to kiss his beautiful, sensitive cock. As you blow on his dripping, reddened head, you hear another pitiful whimper from him.

Teasing him is one of your favourite things to do in the whole of the world. He melts so easily and submits to the sweet torture. It is too beautiful to ignore. You just want to eat him whole. Sue you for that.

Your soft tongue traces the same vein as your long fingernail did a few moments ago; pre-cum flows freely down his shaft, and you lap it up hungrily. Sweet. Covering his cock completely with your lips, you slowly lower your head down, a movement that you know will drive him crazy, but it's not enough to make him come. This only serves to make Seonghwa even more desperate.

"Please, I can't stand it anymore." He's got this wonderful voice; you could listen to it for hours when he's at his peak.

He lifts his hips, begging you to take him deeper into your hot, wet mouth, but instead he gets slapped lightly. Forcing him to stay still under your care, your hands rest on his hips. In an agonisingly slow motion, you slide down the length of his cock until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone. You simply suck him into your mouth, warming him up and trying not to add any extra stimulation with your tongue.

His high is rising again. You can feel the tension in his lithe, elegant body. The sound of his lingering, unsatisfied moans is suspiciously quiet as he tries to hold himself back. Admiring his delicious, high-pitched moan of utter frustration, you remove your lips from his cock with a pop.

"My sweet, handsome boy." You're just mocking him; it's a little sadistic of you, but who allowed Seonghwa to be so handsome? All your actions are completely justified. "You've been such a good boy to me, Hwa. Are you ready for your reward?"

He nods feverishly; his long hair is spread all over the pillow, and he looks so wonderful in your eyes. You reach out and untie his hands, kissing his chest on the way and leaving a couple of hickeys.

"Seonghwa, this is your wish, isn't it? I need words, my beautiful." You whisper in his ear as you untie his numb hands.

"Yes, I do... I really want my reward." He breathes out.

"What do you need, baby? Tell me what your wish is." He's so unbelievably cute when he's winded. He pauses for a second, thinking about what he wants, and you gently rub his wrists where they were bound with the silk.

"I want you so badly, please." He pulls you by your hips so that you straddle him, gently stroking your curves with his graceful, thin palms. Seonghwa reaches up to kiss you, his plump, wet lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss before you feel his cock enter you.

You let him do whatever he wants to you, but you lean down and put your hands on his shoulders to help balance you, whispering again.

"Come on, my beauty, fuck me good."

[beybaldes]

need to lie here, need to leave

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent x gn!reader

summary : “accidentally witnessed kiss”

content warning : allusions to smut but non written, Jamie, wanted a cute cuddling gif and I can’t see who tf is in it I just want Roy to hold me like that so 🤷🏻‍♀️

Most mornings were spent with you whispering pleas for Roy to stay into the quiet space of your bedroom. Each morning he’d appease you the first few times you asked, allowing you to snuggle right back up to him, the third time he’d wiggle himself out of your hold and actually start getting ready; silencing each of your complaints and protests with a kiss.

Today however, Roy never forced himself out of bed, instead, on your third plea for him to stay, he simply did. He used the arm that was around your shoulders to roll you on top of him, wrapping both of his big arms fully around you. The pads of his fingertips brushed against your cheek and then found purchase against the nape of your neck, holding you against him. A delicate kiss was placed against your forehead, and you wished that you could be ever closer to Roy then you were right now.

Before you could fully settle into the embrace and drift back off to sleep in his arms, you crossed your arms over his chest, resting up ur head in your palms so that you were propped up against him and could look down at him. “You’re staying?”

“Yes.” Roy’s eyes fluttered back open, but he was barely awake, his grip on you tightening slightly as he felt your naked chest rise away from his. “Now cuddle me, please.”

“You always sound so sexy when you’ve just woke up, have I ever told you that?” You threaded your hands into his hair, keeping your chin against his chest as you lay back against him so that you could look at him.

“Once or twice.” Roy, sick of not having you flush against him in the way he clearly wanted, hoisted you up and over, making it so you were half on his chest and half on the mattress but now face to face with him. “Have I ever told you how sexy you look? Just, like, all the time?”

“Once or twice.” You hummed, pulling him even closer to you so that you could press a sleepy and slow kiss to his lips. Even when you pulled away, you kept only an inch of space between the two of you, your nose nudging against his with every slight rise of your chest and attempt at another kiss. “What about training? And Jamie?”

Roy knew what you were really asking: why stay today of all days? what’s different this time? And truth be told, Roy wasn’t sure why today of all days was the day he chose not to get up and go to training.

“I love you.“ The one thing Roy knew to be true. You’d never said those three little words before. Although, you weren’t entirely sure why anyone ever called them that until right now. Whenever you’d thought about saying those three little words in your previous relationships, they’d felt so big. But with Roy? They felt just right. You connected your lips once more, this time deepening the kiss with a twist of your fingers in Roy’s hand and the slipping of your tongue past his lips. “Why would I want to be anywhere else?”

“Maybe because you’ve promised to train me and Ted said you have to.” Jamie tartt was stood in Roy’s bedroom door, arms folded across his chest and soaked in rain. If you and Roy hadn’t been so tightly wrapped up in each other, you were certain you’d have jumped a good six feet off the bed. “You’re half an hour late to training me grandad, I’ll be having words with the big boss.”

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

“What the fuck are doing in bed with our social media exec?”

“Jamie, please leave.” The footballers head snapped to face you, curled against Roy’s bare chest with his fingers tracing patterns on your back and yours tangled in his hair. He didn’t think he’d ever seen his coach in such a loved up moment, and he wasn’t sure he ever would again. Taking a snapshot in his brain, he nodded silently, a smile curling onto his face as he made his way out of Roy’s house and back home; and not just because he got to miss training and go back to bed.

“Are we going to question how he got in here?” Roy pressed a kiss to your lips, to the tip of your nose, your cheek, your temple and then your forehead; only stopping when a smile pulled at his lips that he couldn’t hold in.

“Nah. Don’t want to think about fucking Tartt right now. Just want to think about you.”

“Me?” You asked, snuggling yourself into the crook of Roy’s neck, letting sleep take over you once more.

“Only you.”

domestic Roy is everything to me I just want him to be happy fr !!! wrote this just before bed and it was the perfect bedtime story (for me lol totally not self indulgent) love you guys more prompts coming soon!!!

[marleyybluu]

Wherever

Fezco x f!reader

WC: 1.8k

Warnings: Smut, no plot just a quick fuck, semi-public sex (staircase sex but nobody actually walks in on them), unprotected p in v, issa quickie, drunk sex, bigdick!Fez lmao I feel like he at least got girth to him yk?, the word cock was used once whoops sorry

(gif not mine. but just look at how yummy he is here. mhmmm)

The two had gone out for their anniversary. Their friends threw them a little surprise dinner at the restaurant they went to on their first date. They'd knocked out four years of marriage and were happy to celebrate the rest of the years to come. It was a fun little gathering of their loved ones surrounding them and reminiscing on old times, how shy they were when they first met and how cute it was to see how quickly they fell for each other. 

It was a great night with great food and a few drinks. Maybe more than a few. They didn't drink much they mostly smoked but for tonight's occasion, they switched over. Both were pretty lightweight and found themselves stumbling and giggling with each other, though it made great entertainment for their friends and family. 

The party ran late and a few left to return to their own homes but not without congratulating the two on their four years together. By 2 AM it was just Fez, his girl and their two friends Rue and Jules and all four called it a night. Rue and Jules offered to drive the couple back to their apartment considering they were sober enough to drive back. They accepted and sat in the backseat of the car, her head resting on his shoulder as her mind swayed. She was so gone she felt like was in a spaceship zooming through the stars and the planets. 

She loved the ride home after a drunken night, it was so quiet and calming especially with the window down. Fez's head tipped back against the headrest, whispering to himself that he'd never drink again. His hand rubbed small circles on his girl's lower back, his fingers following the curve of her behind when he dropped his hand further he gently squeezed and smiled lazily. He was so lucky to have her.

After what felt like a short ride they were finally in front of the apartment building. "Sure you guys don't want us to come with you?" 

Fez scoffed. "Nah, we're good, text us when you get home." The girls wanted to protest about his slurred sentence and wobbly stance but bit their tongues, they'd at least wait until they got inside the building. They said their goodbyes and waited for them to tap their keycard to get past the second door which they successfully did. Fez and his girl stumbled over to the elevator, pressing the button to go up numerous times but none of the doors would open. Fez squinted once he noticed a piece of paper on the silver door. 

Out of Order.

Well, that was just great. "We gotta take the stairs, baby." He giggled. She groaned and trudged to the door leading to the staircase, silently thankful they lived on the fifth floor but it was still a lot of stairs and she was wearing heels. She held onto the railing for balance and walked up the first step with Fez not too far behind. 

They climbed up as fast as they could to the second floor, she stopped and rolled her eyes, this was not an ideal situation to be intoxicated. Fez, however, seemed to be entertained. Her dress was riding up with every step, no matter how many times she pulled it down it slid back up and at some point almost bunched around her hips, exposing her supple skin under the material. He wanted to bite her, he was quickly growing hard in his pants, temptation in front of him and he was ready to give in. 

He reached out, fingers gently brushing her skin. She turned around and smiled. "Can I help you?" 

"You have no idea." He replied lustfully glaring at her through low-drunken eyelids, his eyes no longer blue due to his dilated pupils. Her eyes widened at him and she turned facing forward to hide her blush. It did make her put an extra sway in her hips. 

Third floor. 

Two more flights of stairs and they'd be home, and he'd have her all to himself, naked and whimpering... moaning... crying for him. "Let's take a break."

She stopped on the platform where the entry to the third floor was. "Tired already?" She joked, she needed a bit of a break herself because these heels were killing her. She rested herself bent over the rail, the bottom of her dress rising once again, her little black panties on display for him. 

She could feel his attentive gaze on her. She pushed back for him, he walked closer to her his calloused hands reaching out for her smooth and soft skin, his fingers coming in contact with her hip squeezing them hard enough to leave little prints. She hissed looking back at him. "Come on, just a little quick one." She whimpered saying aloud what they were both thinking. He smirked dragging his finger along the line of her panty following the trail down to her wet heat. 

He looked up at her through his bushy, but well-trimmed eyebrows. Keeping contact while he moved the material to the side. She swallowed a moan feeling the cool air hitting her clit causing her to clench around nothing. "Always so fucking pretty," He muttered taking his thumb and guiding it between her folds collecting her slick. "And wet, for me." 

"Fez..." Her voice warned. "I don't care if anyone sees us." He admitted with a shrug. She pushed back against him once more feeling the tip of his thumb tease her hole, he angled his thumb and gently thrust it inside her. She softly gasped moving her hair to the side to get a good look at him, so focused on her pretty pussy leaking out for him and he'd barely done anything. 

He used his free hand to undo his belt, the thud of everything falling onto the floor echoed off the empty walls. She moaned at the sight, how hard he was, so stiff the tip of his dick had gone from pink to almost red-- sticky with his own arousal. Her mouth watered, tongue begging to be wrapped around him but they'd get to that once they got home. He removed his thumb sticking it in his mouth for a little taste of her, he hummed in satisfaction. She whined internally begging him to hurry up, he delivered a harsh slap to her ass which earned a squeal from her desperate lips. 

"You keep doing that imma put it away." 

"Sorry." She mumbled tugging on her bottom lip. He chuckled at how quickly she retreated, he positioned himself at her entrance, running his aching tip through her juicy folds, he finally found his way inside-- slowly sliding into her warm and welcoming cunt. She placed her hand over her mouth to squash the upcoming erotic sounds she wanted to make, he stretched her out completely, his faint veins coinciding with her soft walls. Fuck.

Fez pushed the dress up further so it was resting in the middle of her back, he looked down at the tattoo she had recently got done and groaned, one of his favourite things to look at was the artwork displayed on her beautiful body. He could feel her clenching around him already, she always came a lot quicker when she was out of her mind. He buried himself deep inside her earning an audible moan. 

He pulled out and pressed back in. "Ooohh, fuck!" She broke. "That's it. Let everyone hear you, ma." He held on to her hips giving her some deep strokes, she gripped the railing looking down on the first floor in hopes no one would come upstairs. Fez grunted, she was coating him in her creamy goodness, her gummy walls enveloping him in pleasure. His tip repeatedly bumped against a certain spot within her and her body responded positively. 

The sounds of skin-to-skin contact, the slapping and pornographic moans from both parties echoed through the staircase and probably made their way through the walls. But who cares, she was getting dicked down, her arousal dripping down her inner thigh. Her whimpers caress his ears as an encouragement to keep his rhythm. 

"Fuck, fuck, yes Fez! Give me that dick." She egged on feeling her climax getting closer, she moved her left leg onto one step allowing him further access, his heavy balls slapping against her clit was an additional sensation her body couldn't take. Her eyes rolled back as he continued his assault on her, penetrating her every need. 

Fez growled as his hips picked up their pace, snapping into hers in a desperate need to meet his end. "I can feel it, baby, come for me." She playfully giggled stealing his usual line. He pounded into her, reaching under her to toy with her clit. "You cum first, pretty girl." He retaliated, her body shivered, a tingling feeling creeping up in her toes and fingers. Her mouth was agape as her back arched, he leaned forward pressing his chest against her. "Yeah? Yeah, I fuckin' see you, baby. Don't worry." 

"Oh my god! Fez! Fuck... me-" Her body stilled, her eyes squeezed shut while her orgasm took over her body, constant convulsion around his dick pulled him closer to the edge. "Ah, shit." He croaked before succumbing to his own pleasure, squirting his hot cream inside her. They panted slowly letting go of each other. He chuckled pressing a kiss against her neck and another behind her ear. "You good?" 

"Fuck... yes." She sighed in satisfaction. Fez carefully pulled out and looked at the door to see if anyone was standing there watching but they were good. He quickly stuffed his half-hard cock in his pants and re-buckled his belt. He watched as she fixed herself too, pulling back down her dress and turning to him with a pout. "What?" He asked. She looked down at her feet and back up at him. He smiled shaking his head. "Fine." He took off his shoes sliding them over to her, she stepped out of her heels and into his big-ass dress shoes that she bought him. He held her heels in his hand and pressed a kiss on top of her head. "You ready to go?" 

She nodded looking up at him but her eyes widened when she saw past him, there was a camera... a little security camera in the corner above the door. "Oh.. shit." He said seeing it too. "Well, I mean it already happened." She laughed. There wasn't anything they could do about it, at least someone got a free show. 

"Hm, glad to know that after four years you're still down to do it anywhere." He chuckled heading up the stairs. 

She smirked. "We might need another break on the fourth floor." 

"Baby..." 

"Fiiiiine, we'll wait until we get home." 

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic comments and reblogs are appreciated peace and love see you in the next one🤙🏾

🏷 @darqchilddaydreamz @skyesthebomb

tagging who might be interested: @bigenergy777

[abigails-gf]

abby anderson x fem reader.

you take abby, your best friend, to a gay bar.

warnings: alcohol, smut, oral sex, fingering, public sex. (all r!receiving).

hii !! happy pride month to you all ! <33 um .. so here's my gift in honor of this month hehe !! .. some friends to lovers w/ smut !! 💌💌 this is my first time writing like ,, proper smut (??) so i'm sorry if it's bad aah. .. anyway !! tysm for all the love on my posts!! makes me so happy !! ee <33 bisous !! 💭 💋 (ps this gif is so OHMGOD .. her nose . need her so bad)

“you owe me, now.” abby said before opening the bar’s door, holding it for you. you rolled your eyes and walked into the crowded place, abby following you. it was loud. some people were dancing while others were sitting in corners, drinks in hands. you held abby’s wrist and walked through the dancefloor, making your way to the bar.

you sat down on a stool, and looked at the crowd. “you didn’t tell me we were coming to a gay bar.” abby yelled next to you. “well, if i told you, you would’ve said no. plus, it’s fun! you’ll see.” you answered, playfully hitting her shoulder. she smiled and called for the bartender. “what are you doing?” you asked abby who was holding her wallet. “are you blind? i’m paying for our drinks.”

“no, you’re not.” she put thirty dollars on the table, looking back at you, smirking. “yes, i am. you owe me even more, now.” you looked into her eyes and smiled. “whatever.”

the bartender came back with your drinks. “yours looks good! can i taste it?” you said as abby took a sip from her drink. she licked her lips and handed it to you. “didn’t realize it was so sweet.” you brought the straw to your lips, feeling abby’s eyes on them. the drink was indeed sweet – it tasted like cranberries and strawberries. you could barely taste the alcohol in it. you looked back at abby, the the straw still in between your lips. you noticed how her cheeks slightly turned pink when you turned to her. “s’good! really good.”

she smiled and took a sip from her glass. as she was looking at the people around, you took the time to look at her. she had her shoulders on the table, her hand holding her head and the other holding her drink. her hair was in its signature braid, two strands of hair falling on both sides of her face. she was wearing a black shirt and a pair of jeans. “are you done looking at me like that?” you could see a faint smirk on her lips. “don’t know what you’re talking about.” she chuckled and turned to you. “sure, love.”

the minutes passed and you were on your third drink. “can’t believe you’re still single. you’re tellin’ me no one wants to fuck you?” she snorted and looked back to you. “yeah, that’s exactly why i’m single.” abby was still sober, despite her second drink. you, on the other hand, were a little drunk. “d’you wanna dance?” abby shook her head. “c’mon, abs!” you whined. she drank from her glass and turned to you. “i’m not gonna dance. but you can go, i’ll stay here.” she smiled softly. you nodded and walked in the crowd of dancing people.

abby looked at your silhouette as you jumped and danced next to other people. she would’ve been a liar if she said she didn’t find you pretty tonight, or any other day, really. you were wearing a white shirt, some of the upper buttons undone, almost revealing your chest, and a tight pair of black jeans. you were smiling, and probably yelling the lyrics of the song that was playing.

“hey.” a girl sat next to abby. abby smiled politely at her and drank from her glass. “d’you wanna..” the girl said, bringing her index and middle finger on the sides of her mouth, her tongue out. abby looked at her, confused. “uh, no. thanks?” the girl sighed. “can i at least buy this gorgeous girl a drink?” she smiled and started rubbing abby’s arm. “no, sorry. i’m not interested.” abby said, shaking her arm. the girl didn’t bother saying goodbye and left.

abby focused back on the crowd, looking for you. it seemed you moved from the spot you were a few minutes before. abby looked around; on the other side of the bar, or in the sitting corners – but you were nowhere to be found. “god, where is she.” abby tried to call you a few times before realizing you had left your bag in her car.

she got up and went straight in the crowd, saying ‘sorry’s as she pushed people, trying to find you. she ended up asking someone if they saw you, describing you. “oh yeah! she was with this chick, and they went to the restrooms. they’re probably going at it right now!” the person laughed. abby clenched her jaw, thanking them and walking through the crowd towards the restrooms.

she opened the door. and there you were; sitting on the sink, making out with some stranger. abby walked towards you and grabbed your wrist, almost making you fall. “what the fuck!” you yelled out. abby walked out of the restrooms and still held your wrist firmly. you tried to get out of her grip but in vain.

once you two made it out of the bar, she let go of your wrist. you looked at her, angry. “what’s wrong with you?! i could’ve gone home with her!” abby was breathing heavily. “i’m the one that’s supposed to take you home!” she took a step back and brought her hands to her face. “christ.” she whispered. “you’re just jealous! because you don’t have anyone to kiss!” you yelled out. abby chuckled. “mhm. sure.” she answered, staring at you, crossing her arms. “it’s not because no boys want to shag you that you get to ruin my one night stands! you don’t get to ruin that!” you said, pointing a finger at her.

you were now close to abby, your finger almost touching her. abby was still staring at you, her arms crossed. “you come here and you ruin my fucking life – just like that!” your voice cracked a little. “you don’t get to do that, abby! stop doing this to me!” you shouted, trying to push abby. she didn’t move one bit.

abby held your hands in hers, making you look up at her. “are you done?” she asked gently. you didn’t answer, your eyes going up and down between her eyes and her lips.

she smiled and kissed you softly. “do i get to do that?” she smiled. you nodded, your lips finding hers. “please.” you whined against her lips. abby took you back to her car, opening the back seat door.

“here?” you asked, unsure. abby smirked and kissed you. “mhm. we both need it, don’t we?” she closed the door. abby started leaving kisses on your neck. “but – what if people see us?” abby bit the skin on your shoulder and looked back at you. “don’t worry ‘bout that.” you smiled and kissed her.

she kissed your neck as she unbuttoned your shirt. “fuck –” she said as she cupped your breast in her hands, making you gasp. “i knew you weren’t wearing a bra.” abby licked your left nipple before sucking on it, making you moan. she did the same with the right nipple, while pinching on your left one. you could feel her cunt against your knee, rubbing against it each time she moved a bit. “fuck – abby... i need you. please.”

she sucked the skin in between your breasts before unzipping your pants. “wait, abs. you’ve never done this before, have you?” she looked up at you and smirked. “i’ll just do what i’ve been dreaming of, i guess.” you blushed at the remark and leaned down to kiss her before standing up a bit so she could pull your jeans down to your ankles.

“look at that.” she said, caressing you through your underwear. “is that wet spot just for me?” you looked down at her. “mhm. for you.” she slapped your clothed cunt, making you bite your lip. “it better be.”

she didn’t take your underwear off at first. she brought a finger to your lips and traced your slit. you brought your hand down. “no.” she said, holding it. “you don’t get to touch yourself. i’m the one who gets to do that tonight.” she smirked at you before putting her face between your legs, her nose against your clit and her lips against yours. she moved her face in order to stimulate your clit and licked you through the fabric. “please, abby.” you rubbed yourself against her nose, moaning each time it felt a little too good.

“do i get to taste you? you owe it to me, don’t you?” she said, playing with the elastic of your underwear. you nodded frantically letting her pull it down with your jeans. she groaned at the view. “s’pretty...” she parted your lips and smiled. “so wet f’me..” she brought the tip of her index finger and rubbed it in between your lips. “so fucking wet.”

you looked down as abby was leaving small kisses on your inner thighs and over your clit. she put her tongue out, making you moan. “such a pretty pussy.. all f’me.” you couldn’t help but grind against her face. “please, abby. need you...” you whined. she lowered her mouth, her tongue was now playing with your lips. she looked up to see you mouth open, eyes slightly closed – you looked gorgeous like that. she took two fingers to part your lips before she pushed the tip of her tongue inside you. she groaned, feeling the warmth and wetness on her tongue. she continued licking, earning beautiful sounds from you. your hands found their way behind her head. you were shamelessly grinding against her as her tongue went deeper inside of you.

she groaned whenever you moaned her name, whenever she felt you push her head forward. “abby – fuck. feels s’good.” you pouted. abby moaned and took her tongue out, looking up. “you taste so good, my love.” her lips were pink and glistening with your juices, you whined at that sight. she kissed you, making you taste herself on her tongue.

abby sat next to you. “don’t close your legs, just yet.” she ordered, putting her hand between your thighs. her hand made its way to your clit. you gasped when she applied pressure on it. “want you to cum on my fingers, baby. can you do that?”

“mhm!” you tried to hold your moans, as she rubbed your clit, looking out the window next to you. you almost forgot that you were in her car – too focused on her. “don’t look outside, baby. look at me.” she ordered.

she kissed you passionately, rubbing your clit at a faster pace. you started grinding into the seat, making abby smile. “you’re making a mess, aw.” you whined as she slapped your cunt with her other hand. “such a good girl.” abby said, getting some of your wetness up to your clit.

she continued rubbing it, adding more stimulation when she used her other hand to play with your breasts. you couldn’t stop moaning, your hips moving against abby’s hand. “‘m close.. abby.” she smirked and kissed your neck. “you owe me, remember? so you better cum when i tell you to.” she whispered. you clenched around nothing – which abby noticed and quickly used the hand that was on your breast to finger you. “let’s see if you can take two fingers, mmh?”

abby put her index and middle finger inside of you, making you gasp and moan when you felt them moving inside of you. “fuck. abby! please!” you were a whiny mess, begging abby to let you cum, moving your hips in chase of your orgasm. abby smirked when she felt you clench around her fingers, pumping in and out of your cunt faster. you were moaning loudly, and she secretly hoped that the girl you were making out with earlier heard how good she made you feel.

“i’m gonna cum!” abby kissed you, rubbing your clit with her thumb as her fingers curled up inside of you. “c’mon, cum for me. cum for me, y/n.” she continued to finger you, rubbing your clit faster. you opened your mouth against her lips, a loud moan coming out of it, her fingers still inside of you as you finally came. abby kissed your jaw as you were catching your breath. “mhm, just like that baby. such a good girl.”

she looked down while pulling out her fingers out, looking at how much they were glistening. she brought them to your mouth. “open for me.” you opened and sucked on her fingers, making a ‘pop’ sound when letting them out. “s’good.” abby kissed you, licking your tongue.

“it was so good, abs...” you said, putting your jeans back on. you looked at her and kissed her. “i don’t owe you shit now, do i?” abby smiled. “mmh, do you?” she joked before kissing you once more. “c’mon, i’m taking us home.”

[yeollie-plz]

You Told Yourself

Javier Pena x F! Reader

Synopsis: You told yourself you wouldn't fuck Javier Pena. Oops

Genre: smut!

Warnings: 18+, smut, porn without plot, plot what plot?, drinking, drunk sex, consensual sex, kissing, oral sex male and female receiving, fingering, p in v sex, protected sex!, praise kink, spanking

Gif credits to owner!

You told yourself you would never be swayed by Javier Pena's charms. You told yourself he was just another guy trying to get into your pants. You told yourself he was a man whore and didn't deserve you. You told yourself all these things and yet here you were under him.

A few drinks in at the bar mixed with Javier's relentless flirting and you caved. You caved! You were going to regret this in the morning. You were going to regret this when you had to see him at work next Monday.

But god did his mouth feel good on you.

You two were on your third drinks when Javier asked you to dance. You were feeling the effects of the alcohol and agreed. What harm would it do?

Apparently a lot of harm because half way into your fourth drink, you were making out with Javier Pena on the dance floor. He had his hands on your waist, fingers gripping you as his hips and lips moved with yours.

You whimpered into his lips. He pulled back enough to read your eyes.

"I think we need to get out of here." You nodded at his words.

Javier grabbed your hips and led you out of the bar and back to his place. You didn't make too far into the building before your lips were on each other again. Javier pushed you into the wall next to his door, moving his lips down your neck.

He was making no movements to grab his keys so you took into your own hands. Reaching into his front pocket. The kissing on your neck stopped as he glanced at your hand.

"You can't do that baby, I won't be able to control myself." Javier said in a low voice.

"What if I don't want you to?" He smirked at your response and moved your hand from his pocket to the bulge in his jeans. Javier's eyes rolled back slightly when you started to massage there. He whispered a quick fuck and grabbed his keys out of his pocket.

The door was unlocked in a hurry and you were pulled inside. As you made out through his apartment trying to both rid yourselves of your shoes. Javier grabbed the bottom of his shirt, breaking the kiss only to pull it over his head.

The kissing continued past the bedroom door where you were backed into the edge of the bed. The back of your knees hit it causing you to fall onto the bed. Javier hovered over you. He kissed your lips quickly and worked his way down your body to the bottom of your dress.

He kissed up your thigh and glanced up at you, "Can I take this off?". Javier Pena, a gentlemen? No way. You nodded. He gripped the edge of your dress and helped you shimmy out of the tight material.

You were left in your bra and panties. He kissed the rise of your breast before returning to between your legs. He licked a strip onto your core through your underwear causing a gasp to escape your lips.

Javier then kissed your thigh and hooked his finger into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs, leaving you in your bra. He licked a strip on your core this time, really causing you to squirm beneath him. His hands found your thighs holding you still.

"Stay still for me princesa." The nickname had you keening. As if the alcohol mixed with how turned on you were wasn't enough, he had to call you that!

He deemed your lack of movement acceptable and licked your core again, this time continuing the motion. He slowly got faster and faster until you were moaning for more. His speed picked up before he slowed again, now circling your clit with his tongue.

He sucked the bud in before releasing it and pulling away. Only to go right back in even faster than before. He alternated between circles and licking vertically. The tension in your stomach was starting to build.

"I'm gonna..."

He spoke into your entrance, "Cum for me."

A second and one last lick later and you were seeing blinding white as your pussy clenched around nothing. Your body jerking with the force of your orgasm. Javier's tongue continued to circle your clit to work you through your high.

His mouth pulled off of you and he crawled up the bed to kiss your lips again. You took this as your chance to grab his shoulders and push him down onto the bed. You were now over him as you continued to kiss. He tasted like you and now all you wanted to do was taste him.

You grabbed his belt buckle while still kissing his, running your tongue across his bottom lip. You let your tongues dance for a minute while you tried to get his belt and zipper undone. Once they were both undone you stopped the kiss to grab the top of his pants and pull them off his legs.

"Your turn." You said, fiery lust behind your eyes.

You began to palm his dick through his underwear, looking up at him you say his watching you intently. Your hands grabbed the waistband of his underwear and pulled them off as well. His erection sprung up, hitting his stomach.

He was bigger than you thought.

You ghosted your fingers up his thigh and to the bottom of his shaft. You wrapped your fingers around it and slowly moved up and down, teasing him slightly.

You licked the tip of his dick and slowly sunk your mouth completely over it. You moved your head up and down taking almost all of it in.

"Fuck, you do that so well." He said, half moaning.

You continued your motions up and down and added your hand in to move in time with your mouth. Pulling off only to lick up the base of his cock to the tip and taking him all into your mouth again.

The hand that had been previously been jerking him off, was now massaging his balls. His breath hitched at the feeling.

You deep throated him faster, getting him worked up. If he could get any harder, he would be right now. Your movements all of a sudden stopped as you pulled off of him. His head which had just been tossed back in pleasure was jerked to look at you.

You smirked at him and knelt back down to take one ball into your mouth, sucking it in, only to let it go right after. He grabbed your head and pulled you up to kiss him. Forcefully kiss him.

His grip loosened a bit and you took the opportunity to speak, "I want you to fuck me now."

"Oh do you?"

You nodded.

"Hm, I guess you deserve it, bend over for me. I wanna see that pretty ass as I fuck you."

You did as you were told and got on your hands and knees. You heard him rustle around for a second, you glanced over to see him unwrapping a condom. You were so glad he still had some sense while drunk.

He rolled the condom on, meeting your eyes. He tilted his head at you in question before moving to the bed again. He chastely kissed your lips and placed a hand on your hip.

Javier ran his finger up your slit to your opening. He slipped it in, causing you to moan. He fingered you a few times, pulling out so terribly slowly.

"You are so wet for me."

His then teased your entrance with his dick before prodding past your walls. He took his time entering you, he was either teasing you or letting you adjust but either way it felt amazing.

He was now seated fully inside of you with both hands gripping your hips. He pulled them back slightly to meet his, making go even deeper in you. You moaned.

His strokes started slow as he pulled all the way out of you and then fully back into you. It was like torture. You needed him to make you forget who you were.

"Please, Javi, faster."

This was all he needed to hear as he slammed his hips back into you. Now picking up his pace as he relentlessly fucked your pussy. You were now moaning and moaning. Every time he would hit that spot inside of you.

You lost the strength in your arms, causing your ass to raise even higher for Javier to see. He landed a smack onto it.

"This ass looks so good as I fuck into you." He groaned out, smacking your ass again.

He continued to fuck you at his quickened pace, at this point you were seeing stars.

"Baby, I'm not gonna last long like this. This pussy is just so good for me. So tight..."

He slowed down, pulling his dick out of you completely, causing you to whimper at the loss. He chuckled at your reaction, massaging your ass. He licked up your entrance only to slam his cock into you again.

You were getting close, clenching onto his dick. It seemed like he could tell when he reached his hand around and started to rub your clit in fast circles.

"Want you to cum with me. Think you can do that pretty girl?" You nodded in response.

His thrusts quickened as he chased his orgasm. The hand not on your clit grabbed your face and forced your lips to his, kissing you for a few seconds. He returned his hand to your hip.

"I'm-" He didn't finish his sentence before he was grunting, fucking you through his orgasm.

The feeling of his seed filling the condom and his finger still rubbing your clit sent you over the edge, orgasming with him.

You both came down from your highs as he slumped onto you, trying not to put too much weight onto your spent body. He pulled out as slowly as he could, so it didn't cause your any oversensitivity.

He stood and made his way into the en suite. You flipped over onto your back again, sighing in ecstasy. Javier walked back into the bedroom, just now noticing that he never took off your bra.

"Next time, I wanna see those tits."

"Next time?" You questioned, you didn't even want this to happen in the first place let alone again.

"Yes, next time. There's no way I'm letting you use that mouth on anyone else. Too good for me."

You just nodded slowly, not sure how to respond. He got into bed with you.

"Go to sleep princesa, we can talk in the morning."

You turned over and Javier slid his arm around your waist, pulling your body into his. Your eyes closed.

You told yourself you wouldn't fuck Javier Pena.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒋𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊’𝒔 𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒐𝒑 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔

🍑peaches world (and the men that just exist in it) masterlist🍑

summary - we continue to see what happens, lloyd and his brother tangerine set off to rescue the princess (you), while ari treats you to something special.

warning - swearing, smut, oral sex, dubcon, word slut and whore used, cheating.

18+ only please, the gif isn't mine, header created by me.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Word got around that the Princess had been kidnapped, Lloyd and Tangerine weren’t happy, immediately setting off to rescue you. They had journeyed through the islands, desperately trying to get to you as quickly as possible.

“Ugh! This is fucking impossible! That stupid fucking turtle!” Lloyd kicks a Goomba, sending it flying. 

“Calm down, we will get her!” Tangerine punches his way through until they make the grave mistake of being touched, sending them back to the beginning again.

Back in the castle, you stare in disbelief as Bowser tears your clothes from your body. “My clothes! Why did you do that?!” Your hands fly in front of you as you try to hide yourself away. 

Ari laughs, staring down at your naked form with lust-filled eyes. “Don’t be so innocent, Princess. I didn’t kidnap you just because you are the Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom.” He leans closer, causing you to pulse between your legs. “I know from a good source how slutty you are.” Ari runs his fingers up your body, between your breasts and cupping your neck softly. “You have fucked half of the Kingdom, including your partner’s brother and I’m not going to miss out.” Your eyes fall to his lips, watching as his tongue flicks out, licking them. 

‘Damn it… How did he learn about that? Not even Lloyd knows!’ You think, feeling ashamed as you imagine how Ari would feel inside you. 

He grips your chin, “So don’t play me a fool, little Princess. You should know the drill by now.” Your eyes widen when he whips out his cock, it’s so monstrous, large, and ridged, his mushroom tip red and angry. You could practically see it throbbing. “And we have plenty of time, Princess.” He forces your eyes up, leaning in closer as he whispers. “And if you refuse, I will bomb your kingdom and turn it into ashes!” He smirks. Ari pulls you closer, pressing his throbbing member against you. “So, you don’t have a choice! Seeing that your beloved Lloyd and his brother are useless because at this rate they won’t be here until next year.” He leans closer to your ear and whispers. “I recommend you don’t resist. Save your kingdom, little Princess.”

You whimper, hands covering your privates as he’s so close. ‘Damn it when I find out who told him I fucked half of the kingdom. I’ll cut their balls off.’ You sigh, looking up at him through your lashes, feeling slick gathering between your thighs as you feel his cock twitch against you. “Fine…”

Ari’s hands move to your shoulder’s, pushing you down onto your knees. “Fantastic, let’s not waste anytime, little Princess. C’mon, on your knees like the good little slut you are.” 

“You don’t have to be so rude! I already said I’d do it!” You whine, eyes widening as it looks bigger up close. 

“Mmhm, start sucking on my shaft, little Princess. You don’t want word to get around that you refused cock, do you?”

You put your hands on his thighs, looking up at him with furrowed brows as you speak. “Before I do anything, you must promise me you will not harm the Mushroom Kingdom and that whatever we do or whatever happens in this room will stay in this room! Deal?!”

Ari chuckles, shaking his head. “Deal. Now suck.” Your mouth opens, drool already seeping from the sides as his large member begins to push inside. “That’s it, little Princess… Open… Say ahhh…” His head falls back, eyes rolling as you begin to suck on his cock. 

‘I can’t believe I am over here selling myself to save my kingdom while that fat arse and his brother are taking it easy. You better run Lloyd!’ You think, sucking harder, your eyes cross. ‘I can’t lie though, he tastes amazing… My pussy is throbbing so much, I just want him to use me.’ 

Your eyes slip closed, whines slipping out. ‘It’s too big! I can’t fit it in my mouth! Slow down you big brute!’ You continue to suck on his tip, swirling your tongue around. 

“Come on, little Princess! Show me how good you suck cock!” His hands tangle in your hair, thrusting into your mouth, inching his cock deeper. “That’s it! Ahhh… Fuck, yes!” Ari moans, thrusting harder, holding your head. “Come on, c’mon!! More! More! Deeper!” He growls, your slurps filling the room as his cock continues to fill your mouth, causing your drool to rapidly seep out. “Take it all in! Go on, you little slut!” 

‘Brute! So rude! It’s huge! I can’t! You are gonna choke me!’ You whine in your head, feeling your cunt drip as he forces his member deeper down your throat, stretching your mouth so wide. No other man or creature was ever this big. 

“I’m gonna cum, little Princess! I’m going to cum so deep into your throat, you better swallow it like the good little slut you are! Fuck yes!” Ari’s balls tighten, your eyes cross as he thrusts deeper. “All the way in! Ahh fuck! Yesss, take my cum, little Princess!” Thick ropes spurt out of his mushroom tip, shooting into your mouth, coating everywhere. You begin to see stars, moans slipping from your lips as his cum continues to leak from his cock, a puddle beneath you forms from how slick your cunt is. 

You pull back, accidentally swallowing it while the rest leaks out, covering your plump breasts. “You animal! You fucking brute! I almost choked!” You cough, glaring up at him, flustered. “You don’t do that to a lady!”

Ari laughs, his softened cock hangs still monstrous, leaking with cum. “Lloyd and the rest you have fucked must feel ridiculous compared to my cock!” He leans down, gripping your chin between his fingers as he stares deep into your eyes. “Don’t tell me you can’t take a cock like mine, little Princess. Maybe I should stretch your holes so when your little boyfriend finally arrives, he’ll know how much of a whore his girl really is. 

You whimper, squeezing your thighs together. On the screen behind you, the brothers continue to fail, growing frustrated. Both thinking of sinking into your cunt once they finally rescue you.

would you like to follow the game? if yes, please click round 2 when the link is avaliable or if you want to start over, click start over.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 - 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 2

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[yeyinde]

ATROPHY | Joel Miller x F!Reader

》 SUMMARY: It's her, him, and the beats in between. A slow simmer of sex to something more. Something he isn't quite ready for, yet knows he can't let go of.  》 WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT (mild); allusions to death, assault; female gendered reader, female gendered anatomy; minor game spoilers; Joel isn't bad at feelings – he just doesn't want them. Joel is tired™ 》 WORD COUNT: 10,9k

His grief, sorrow, the ones that he tries to shove into a box marked apathy, are worn in the crevasses that line his weathered face. Deep canyons make him look ages older than he is. He wonders if she can see them. If she can peel the divots back and uncover the festering sickness, the rot, that sits in the folds. 

It's his own fault, he thinks, for stuffing his grief in the same place he keeps his worry.

》 NOTES: I did something different with my writing. It's still a Reader insert, but. I tried third person instead of the usual second. also, how this ballooned up to nearly 10k is lost to me since it was just supposed to be smut?? I had this clear image of older Joel laying in bed, his guitar leaning against the wall, catching the light of the sun as you slowly rode him, and now? I don't even know. ⤑The gif is mine. Please don't take or repost without permission

MASTERLIST | FAQ | AO3

Complacency is a death sentence in a world like this. 

Lazy Sundays spent between the warm, damp sheets. Boredom. Afternoons strumming his guitar on the front porch. Sleeping in. Drinking at a saloon in town. Music. Laughter. 

It doesn't exist. 

Shouldn't. 

And yet—

His guitar sits, abandoned, in the corner of the bedroom. The wood still carries the heat from his thumb this morning when he played a song alone on the porch. Eyes bleary, full of sleep, of rest, as he took in the varicoloured dawn cresting through the indigo sky.

Those same weathered, beaten hands that strummed the chords to Hurt are now occupied again. One perched on her hip, skin sateen soft and plush, full and warm and clean from the shower last night as she bears down on top of him in a quiet cadence, a muted, languid dance. The other cups the swell of her breast in his palm, nipple still damp from his hungry mouth, and flushed red from his teeth. 

This should just be a fantasy. 

A dirty thing in the recess of his mind when he has a moment to himself breathe. A thought, a whim. Something to needle away at the last vestiges of his consciousness when he sees her in the wild—vibrant, young, and free—and then sullied in the back of his head when he leans against a tree, and thinks of the dirt on her skin, the blood on her delicate hands, and how they'd taste under his tongue.

But this isn't a dream.

When he sleeps, he dreams in black and white. The only colour that bleeds through is red. Blood red. Pulpy and vicious. Ugly. Garish. It splatters across the pavement where he laid Sarah down, where he lost Tess, and everyone else he never promised to save and still couldn't. 

He knows this isn't a dream when he blinks his eyes open, and she's there. Sitting atop him in a kaleidoscope of colour, drenched in ochre from the still rising sun. The only red is her blistered lips, the rough burn between her thighs from the scrape of his beard, and that sinful little tongue that slips between her teeth when he slides in deep. 

And then—his eyes drop to her side—that ugly wound that cuts her flesh, ripped over the seam of her ribs. 

He's awake. Lucid. 

She's much too heavy to be something carved from fantasy. 

He doesn't say this, of course—Joel isn't stupid, and for someone so considerably smaller than he is, she packs a hefty punch in those slender fingers that curl into a fist barely the size of an apple. The sharp jab of a rusted, blunt knife. Knows where to hit him, too. 

He tucks it away, and lets his hands explore, feeling the tangibility of her weight, her presence, under the tips of his bloodied fingers. 

(Broken on the same teeth that caused her to hurt.)

The knob of her hip bone juts out through her flesh, and he grazes it with his thumb, feeling the soft curve. 

Real, he thinks. Flesh and bone. 

He can feel the flutter of her racing pulse under his hand when he kneads her breast in his hand, and lets her nipple graze teasingly over the rough skin of his weathered palm.

The tight clench of her around him—pussy a perfect knot around the base of his cock, all pretty and tied tight like a bow—is another stroke of realism his dreams, nightmares, fantasies, could never imbue. 

It's a present he's sullied more times than he can count, each touch another tally to the neverending number of sins that pile higher than the hollow skyscrapers in Boston. 

Joel feels each breath that leaves her heaving chest. Each gasping hiccup of his name when she raises her full hips up, and then slide back down the length of him in a slow, languorous roll until he nudges against the seal of her womb, and steals the air in her lungs. 

It's real. 

A paradox, then. 

One of those things that shouldn't happen, but is. Like her, and him, and everything else in between.

He knows what the others in town say when they see her—pretty and soft with a ginger touch and a sweet curl of a voice when she whispers his name. It doesn't make sense for her to be all wrapped up in him, following along behind like a shadow to a man who's cut from ashlar, and reeking of rot. Ruin. 

He's calamity in ageing grey, and she's the ripe, forbidden fruit he's not allowed to bite. Poisoned apple. Cherry sweet. 

(He wonders if they'd recoil once they saw that her insides were gnarled; acrid and sour; bitter melon. Lemon drops.

That she is far more like him than they could ever dream.)

They glare at him from the corner of their eyes when she swells like a lighthouse in the midnight gloam at the sight of him wandering back from patrol, eyes all bright and beaming, and beautiful—Christ. 

She's a picture, he thinks. 

One of those pinup girls he'd find in dirty magazines as a kid. When he and Tommy would sneak a peek behind the barn, away from prying eyes. A portrait of lust. Desire in high gloss. 

A classical beauty—the type that would make men drown themselves at sea. A starlet in the golden age back when it mattered. 

Writers' muse, maybe: she would have been the girl everyone talked about—the one that eluded the tortured artist, made him pine. 

Hemingway would call her brutal. 

Cat in the Rain. 

(She liked his old, heavy face and big hands.)

He doesn't know much about poetry but he knows she's the type who could make a man want to stain his fingers in ink just to capture the curve of her lips when she smiled. 

A vixen. Hellion. Lilith. 

Her voice is a song when she says his name. A hymn. 

Dangerous. 

He doesn't know when this started. 

Maybe, when they brought her in with the rest of the group she was travelling with. Beaten down, hungry. Clinging to life with frostbitten fingers. 

Her eyes were flat; a stagnant pond. Lips a grim, blue line. Placid. Gone. She'd been out there for too long to ever find comfort behind walls, and he knows the feeling of trying to crawl out of your own skin when people stand too close. 

She scoffed at the idea of this place, of sanctuary. Resentful and derisive. He could see the distrust in her clenched jaw, balled fists. This world was a whim—evanescent—and what they gathered from the rest of the group, survival hadn't been easy outside of safe zones.

Wall after wall fell, she said, tone flat. Blank. Haunted by ghosts still lingering in the canyons of her eyes. Stopped believing in stuff like this after a while. 

Her eyes were stained—jaundiced and red, filled with burst blood vessels—and raw from how hard the edges of her knuckles had dug into the flesh of her eyelids. They spoke of sleepless nights. Ones interrupted by her own sense of survival, hyperarousal. 

He knows the feeling of jerking awake whenever his brain starts to lull, to slip into that dangerous facsimile of security. 

Pipe dreams. She wears her fatigue like its armour, wielding the brunt of her exhaustion like a shield. 

(Sleep often feels like a bad habit for people like her, like him.)

But like him, it waned slowly. 

The chips in her veneer cracked, split, and he saw the incipient filament start to seep in. Complacency. Comfort. 

A few months in, she stopped being so defensive when they invited her out for drinks, and when they talked about dinner parties, and birthday celebrations. Derision was still a heavy weight in her distant gaze, clutched in bleached knuckles like a claymore, when she looked at them, a touch incredulous. 

Joel understands the feeling. 

The itch in your guts, the discomfort in your chest. It festers, doesn't it? 

Children play close to the fences, making up games of tag, and hide and seek, as if those things with broken, pustulous faces weren't skulking within arm's reach just a breath away. 

This whole place is a vacuum. The interior is covered in thick molasses; stuck in stasis. They pretend that birthdays and holidays matter. Dance around the saloon at night with drinks in hand. Pale ale. Old booze. 

It's rigid in its structure: patrols that span the entirety of a day—from dusk to dusk in three shift increments—and daily checks of the fences, the gates. Trading with other communities. Rules. Regulations. 

It gives the idea of safety. Of security. 

(But the bruises on his hands and the gash in her side are proof that it's sometimes not enough.)

Slowly, though, as the days wore on and the fences stood proud and tall and secure, she softened. Tucked it away with a smile, and started saying, I'll think about it instead of clipped jerks of her chin, or nothing at all. 

Joel doesn't know if she ever really did think about it like she said she would. 

Broken promises carry a distinct sound. One he knows all too well. 

She never showed up despite the invitations. Never came to celebrate. 

She stood by the fence, and looked out, eyes wide, mouth flat. The coil in her shoulders, the tremble in her hands, reminded him of a trapped animal. Cornered, and tense. 

She'll bite someone eventually. 

(He just never expected it to be him.)

The tension didn't flee the crease of her eyes, but she tried to integrate herself into the fold, the community. Slowly. Slowly. 

He took stock of her in the same measure he does everyone new who wanders in. Assessing. Watching. Cautious. 

He could tell right away that she was a wildcard. A lit match slowly burning down the wick in a sea of gasoline.

Pretty, he finds, despite himself. Drawn in by her allure; a coruscating light in the middle of endless, unfathomable grey. 

He catches sight of the weathered face that blinks back at him from the frosted windows, hazy and thick with condensation that make the grey in his hair, his beard, look startlingly whiter than it was ten seconds ago. It's a jarring reminder of who he is. What he's done. 

It's not insecurity that keeps him from seeking her out, but self-preservation. Some people, he finds, just have this magnetism about them. A beacon. A light. A gravitational pull that drags you closer and closer. 

And hers is purely primal. Animalistic. She smells of sex and sin and makes him think of object permanence when everything around him had been clouded in the sharp shade of ephemeral grey. 

She's a fractured mirror. Medusa in the making. 

Joel's always avoided broken glass. 

(Ladders. Black cats. Cracks in the pavement. Pretty girls who swallow everything like a black hole—)

Too sweet, he finds. Forbidden fruit. Tart, ripe, and sugar dipped. 

(He never had much of a sweet tooth, anyway.)

Through his observations—necessary, he tells Tommy when he catches the way Joel's gaze follows her around when she moves; limbs ballerina lithe, swan songs after dark: just because we let them in, doesn't mean we can trust them—he finds out everything he needs to know. 

A rusted sign on the side of the road says, stay away. Danger in dulcet. Soft and sweet. A perfunctory bow in battle before the deadly blows come. 

He oscillates between finding her both too soft and too hard, and it's the unknown that makes him wary. 

She's a caged animal. Everyone is just kidding themselves if they think she's domesticated. 

Somewhere in the throng of people milling about, drinking and dancing like the world wasn't in shambles, she finds his gaze, matches his stare. 

Most people looked away. 

But she's not most people, is she? 

No, she's dangerous. Pretty in a way that's entirely too ethereal for the broken remnants of what remains. Left behind. Mouldering until death claims its victims. Until the spores released from the earth itself burrow in the rucked lines of your head, sprouting up like flowering buds. 

She makes men want. 

And while the pickings might have been slim, Joel knows there are several (and maybe a little more) above him in terms of desirability. He's older. Gruff. Rough around the edges without any whim of changing, or scouring himself down so that his jagged pieces don't pop something as tender and sweet as her. 

He doesn't put himself in the same bracket. Despite Maria's insistence, Tommy's needling, he isn't a bachelor. 

Hasn't made himself available.

And he isn't. 

Not since Tess. Not since—

None of that matters. He's too old to think about romance, about skin and sex, and warmth. And more.

The thought of it all leaves something sour twisting in the gnarled rot of what remains inside his chest. 

Despite that, or maybe in spite of it, she comes to him. 

(Somehow. Somehow.)

She asks him to dance, and the breathy tone of her voice tastes like a lit cigarette; it plumes nicotine in the air. Second-hand smoke. A contact high. 

He finds it disarming when she laughs after he says no. Firm. Hard. Dismissive. 

Not in your lifetime, sweetheart. 

The unspoken stay away rang clearer than the echo of her laughter. 

And that was that. 

But she came back. 

("If not a dance, then how about a drink?"

"Wastin' your time, sweetheart."

She grins, then, soft and coy. "Not much else to do with it these days besides chatting up a handsome stranger."

He pretends she didn't make him choke on his drink, and eyes her warily instead. Dangerous, he thinks. The type that just doesn't quit. One who is just small and malleable enough to slip inside the tiniest splinter.

Just like a raspberry, she'd rot fast. Festering. Clouded white and infectious. Worse, in many ways, than the parasites outside of the walls. 

"Just don't get your hopes up." He settles on after a moment, a lull, that makes her blood-red lips curl up like the curve of those stupid hearts dangling overhead. 

And hates that he doesn't really know if he's still just talking to her or the wandering eyes in his own skull when he says it.)

He doesn't know why she takes a liking to him of all people. Of all men. He might be out of touch with the reality they live in now, always on the fringes of waiting for things to buckle at the knee, and collapse into ash, but he isn't stupid. Oblivious. 

Joel sees the way she stares at him. Open, wanting. Curious. 

She shouldn't be. There's nothing in him—nothing left. His insides are polluted, gnarled. Ugly. A gurgling cesspit that doesn't know how to fix, only dissolve. Consume. He's acidic. Caustic. 

Bad for anyone's health. 

He can't keep anyone safe, and all he knows how to do anymore is push people away, and lie (and, lately, make Ellie so incensed with anger, she cuts him to the core and spills his choleric blood out onto the pavement where it hisses and sounds just like Tess). 

He's a patchwork mess of a man sewn together with a churlish hand. The broken pieces are borrowed and maligned, but they sometimes feel like they fit when he shifts, and spits enough contempt to keep everyone else from getting too close, and—

It's enough. 

(He likes it that way.)

But she—

His hands grip her tight sometimes—too tight—and the stains he leaves on her skin set his teeth on edge. It's too much like ownership. Possession. 

(And he finds the colour that blooms on her flesh to be too fucking pretty to ever sit comfortably in the gnarled pit of his guts.)

"Don't worry, Joel," she whispers when she catches him staring at the marks he left behind. Dark and ugly. Contrition tastes of old nickels. "You won't break me that easily." 

It's a bad decision. 

But he was never known for his good choices, and when she fluttered her eyes at him, hand pressed to his chest like she were allowed to touch him, he crumbled. 

She didn't give him much of a choice to fight back when all she asked for nothing but the warmth of his skin, and the taste of him on her tongue. 

Pleasures of the flesh. It's easy. Simple. He fucks her behind the saloon, rough and dirty, and swallows the sounds she makes against the brick like they're just for him. He takes her home, and knows that when he's nestled between her thighs, it's as close to heaven as a man like him will ever get. 

And then—it's over. She leaves. He pretends to sleep. 

Rinse. Repeat.

It carries on this way for nearly two years. Distant, cold. He can't remember the last time he had anyone warm his bed, but it takes the edge off, the stress and pain of Ellie's distance, her mistrust, and hatred, and she asks for nothing. 

She lets him grab her when he wants. Lets him bend her body into whichever shape suits him best, and says nothing about the fingerprints that he leaves behind, the astringent tang of rot when she slides out of his bed, his hands, and out the door. 

He lays back, the same hand he used to grip the back of her neck when he fucked her into the mattress now resting under his head, and he pretends doesn't feel colder now than he did before. 

There is no promise of forever. There's no promise of exclusivity, or monogamy, but he knows that she hasn't fucked anyone else since she got here, that those pretty thighs only ever parted for him, and he's too worn down to entice anyone else who wasn't looking for a sleazy fuck against a tree into his bed, anyway. 

Complacency begets comfort, security, wants.

They settle down in their borrowed homes, in their borrowed beds, and think about making the most of their borrowed time.

In that, they yearn. Family. Togetherness. Everything they had before they tried to drag into the now. Forcing a square through a round hole. A mismatched puzzle piece into the slot it wasn't made for.

Sometimes, they get lucky and it slips through. It distorts itself into something different, and new, just to fit through the preconstructed crack.

Joel doesn't think about then. He thinks about now. A broken world no closer to resolution, absolution, than it was thirteen, fourteen years ago. There is no roseate veil over his eyes; everyone else can see it. 

He isn't the type of man someone brings home. The one you push and push until he fits through the front door, and back into normalcy. Stagnancy. 

And she's not the type of woman who'd ever try. 

He likes that about her.

Poisoned candy apple. Pretty on the outside and rotted within. 

There is no future outside of the way he fits inside of her, and this is as permanent as the blemishes he leaves on her pretty skin. 

Then he dreams, and it's of her.

Lifeless, blue. The way her head splits open is beautiful in that macabre sort of way horrible things sometimes are. Flowers burst behind her eyes, petals budding out of the hollowed space that once made his chest stutter when the sun caught the crevasse of black that split from her pupil and bled into her iris. A small stream of ink. 

The canyons of gradient colours are now filled with blooms of enoki. Red amanita curls out from her ears. 

Where he once laid his palm over her chest is now a gaping hole flowering with a pulsing mass of candlesnuff and staghorn. 

Death cap where her heart once beat. 

Beautiful, he thinks, even as he howls her name.

He wakes up drenched in a cold sweat, and the curve of her name heavy on his tongue. His knuckles pop when he fists the damp sheets between his trembling fingers, but the ache feels good. The sting reminds him he's alive. Whole. 

He's awake, but the nightmare doesn't end. The sight of her body lingers in the back of his head when he strums his guitar and plays a song for the demons within. He thinks of her when he forks over the expired box of condoms he found on a run, and listens to Jesse ramble about how Ellie is doing in exchange for the loot. 

It's her he sees. 

She blinks at him, eyes that same shade that sometimes makes his breath hiss between his teeth, and then her crown caves in. Forehead splits down the middle. One half stands where it was as the other falls over on her shoulder. 

Fractals spill from the plumule that was once her brain stem until the two halves are bleached white like dead corals on a ruined reef. 

The flowering toadstool quivers. What was once her—wit, charm; that uncanny ability to make him feel like the ground beneath his feet was crumbling—is a mass of spores. Polluted. Rotted. 

Where she once stood is a puppet. Dead. Gone. 

Her head tips. Ink spills from the putrefying blood vessels, congealing in the air. It spools into a circle. A black hole. 

He lifts the gun, and feels nothing at all. 

Everything he could have felt, feels, is syphoned into the needlepoint of no return, the place where she once looked at him, and said, I don't want anything from you, Joel. I just want you.

He wakes before he can see the aftermath of pulling the trigger. 

A fluke, maybe. But it happens each night after that. 

He knows, then, that there's no turning back. 

Permanence doesn't belong in this borrowed home, but she somehow drags it through the foyer and into his bed, anyway. 

She stayed over last night. 

Joel doesn't think he tried to let go when he collapsed into the bed beside her, arms woven around her sweat-slicked back, locked tight like a pair of shackles that mean about as much as a prison or the law these days.

It was cold. Late. He didn't want her to walk back in the snow all alone. 

That's all. 

But Joel isn't a gentleman, and despite how much he wishes he wasn't, he's egregiously self-aware. 

He knows he's in trouble when it just makes sense to keep her close. When it's easier to have her within arm's reach than it is to meet at the front door, and let her in. 

(When he sleeps better if he can feel her burning skin on his.)

"You're thinking too much," she gasps, eyes lidded and heavy. Drinking him in. 

Joel doesn't know what a pretty thing like her sees in a man like him. 

He can't offer her anything except the cold comfort of a warm body, but even that is null. He knows there are younger men prowling outside her door, just itching for an opportunity to make her look their way. 

(She never does.)

"Yeah," he rasps, the word sticking to his teeth. "Never been much of a thinker."

"Really? Ain't that a surprise."

His hand slips from her hip, palm swatting at the soft flesh of her ass. The sting makes her tighten around him like a vice. 

"Watch your mouth."

The way she gasps his name, breathy and aching, makes him stifle a groan between clenched teeth, her voice rolling over him like warm sea breeze. 

She's a lot, he thinks, and yet—she asks for nothing. 

(Nothing but him. One of the things he can't give her. Won't.)

Still. 

Her nails press into his damp chest, catching on the smoked dusted patch of coarse charcoal hair. Bracing herself against the swell of his ribs, and slowly rocked back into him, taking him deeper and deeper into her soaked, tight cunt. 

The pulse in his neck throbs out of his skin, a tick she likes to press the flat of her tongue against and drink up the briny droplets of his sweat. He can see the want in her eyes when he catches her staring at the column of his throat, the way she bites her lip like it's a substitute for how badly she wants to sink those same teeth into his flesh. Mark him as her own. 

Possession. Ownership. 

Sometimes, he catches the glossy, rotund image of himself in the inky puddles of her pupils, blown wide with feverish desire, and he can see the same expression, the mien, captured in her startling hue. 

Mutual want. 

It's easier to give in sometimes. To let go. 

He can't, though, and selfishly, he knows she'll never ask. She will bite your lip, the inside of her cheeks, and your tongue until it's raw and bloody before she lets the words slip through the gap of her teeth. 

(He feels the rough, chewed ridges on velveteen flesh when he rolls his tongue between her ivory teeth, swiping over the insides of her cheeks; broken skin split and metallic—a testament to her own selfless desires.

He tastes it on his tongue long after she's gone. Wet pennies. Dandelion sour.)

It knots inside of him. She'd ruin herself before she asked him for more. 

Maybe somewhere in his avoidance, his distance, she knows he's ruining himself by just giving her this much. Nothing, and yet—

Everything to him. 

An impasse, then. Uncrossable when he's already two feet out the door. 

"Joel—"

"I know, sweetheart," he murmurs, low. Rucked gravel. Falling rocks. It jars him how easily he responds to her. She says his name, and he'll drop anything in his hands to get to her quickly enough. "I know." 

The wound on her side pulls taut when she moves. It draws his eye like a beacon. Makes him grind his teeth together until it sparks pain down his jaw, the enamel sawed to the raw nerve. 

His hand slides over her molten flesh, trailing over the soft curve of her waist, until his thumb brushes the seam that keeps her insides from spilling out. The swollen, bruised skin is warmer than the rest of her body. Glossy where it tugs against the black threads keeping her whole. 

Joel didn't go with her on this particular trade. She went with some new kid they'd picked up, all varsity grins and clean hands. He seemed so damned eager to get her attention in the pub. Her age, too. 

Made a pretty couple, Ron said. Fucking loud mouth Ron. 

He was supposed to go, but when the kid caught him in the corner, nursing a beer that sat in his guts like a stomach ache, and said, hey, man, can I take your spot? he didn't know how he was supposed to say no and still cling to the degrees of separation he wedged between himself and the world. 

So, he raised his mug to his mouth, and forced himself to drink, to nod. 

Knock yourself out. 

The flash of sadness that flickered over her face meant nothing at all—nothing—but he felt something churn inside of his rotted guts. Atrophy, he thinks. He isn't meant for this. Doesn't want it. Need it. 

She's a bigger liability the closer she gets. A slow-moving black hole consuming all of the counterscarps he dug until nothing is left but crossable rubble. 

It's better, then, to cut it at the root before it infects the rest. 

So, he does. 

Maybe, he expected something different. For her to call this thing what it was, and then demand more of him, yell and scream and beg for the things he wouldn't give her—if only so he could break her heart into pieces, and force her to let go. To stop. 

Force himself to do the same. 

But she doesn't 

It's a quiet acquiesce; a little more than a nod, and a grim line of her pretty mouth. Okay, it says. If that's what you want. 

And that's what she always says, isn't it? If that's what you want, Joel. Whatever you say, Joel. Sure, Joel. Okay, Joel. 

A spitfire in ochre. A bright lighthouse in the middle of the grey sea. 

(The only person she dims for is him.)

Joel doesn't see her off. Doesn't say be careful or come back safe because words like those don't fit between his teeth. They aren't meant for the nothing between them. The chasm of everything she can't pry from his gnarled fingers. 

She leaves with him. 

He drinks alone. 

Despite whatever nonsense Tommy says, spouted over rationed potatoes and deer meat stew, he isn't sulking. 

"Let your girl go out alone? Unlike you, brother."

The way the words sat in his chest felt like an anvil. 

"Ain't my girl," he muttered. He wanted to be angry but all he felt was numbness. "Ain't my anything."

It's Maria who gets under his skin when she scoffs.

"Joel Miller, you're the biggest dumbass I ever met, save for your damned brother. Gonna push a good thing away and die alone." 

"No one asked you." 

Maria tries to fill in the blanks of something that doesn't exist. 

It peels back the gossamer from his eyes, and he sees, then, the way they skirt around him and her like it's something. As if his name is permanently attached to hers. 

He pretends he doesn't feel the burn in Maria's glare when he doesn't see her off at the gate.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't. 

He isn't there when she comes back, and hates, even more, that he feels something prickle inside his chest when Maria catches him near the stables, and says, I expected more from you, Joel.

It doesn't feel good when he bites back, that's your problem, Maria. Shouldn't have gotten your hopes up. 

Joel lives in his vindication, in his pettily forced indifference. She hasn't come to see him, anyway, and he's sure that she and Varsity jacket are meeting at the pub for that date he'll never give her. 

Doesn't matter, he thinks. And then, if only to burn himself in the flames, he adds: better this way. 

She'll know when he's not there. She's smart like that. Know him in ways he doesn't think anyone else ever could. Ever wanted to. 

(He hates it, and her, sometimes, for it.)

She'll understand. She might corner him one day with that dry ire dripping from the corners of her mouth, patronising and grim, and she'll do what she does best when she strips him bare and leaves him to rot. 

Her eyes are cobra pits. Her teeth leak venom. 

But she won't push. 

It'll simmer out when she blinks, knowing that this is it, and she'll say: okay, Joel. 

Okay. 

He braces for it—hates that has to because that means something, something he isn't ready to acknowledge—and—

And it's all moot. 

She never shows up at the gate. 

It punctures something in his lungs when Tommy looks up at him, face ashen and worried, and says: "she didn't come back. They didn't come back."

It takes an hour to find her, left for dead and beaten within an inch of her life by the side of the road. A wound in her side—a gaping hole he swears he can see through. Milky bones poke through, drenched in red, and—

His heart doesn't stop, but a piece of it breaks off and lodges itself in his throat. He can't swallow. Can't breathe.

Something curls out from the moon-white line of her rib. 

A bud, he thinks. Distant. Warbled. A saprophyte. 

He has the image of her in his head. The same one he sees when he closes his eyes and falls into a fitful sleep. 

Beautiful even as the cordyceps split her skull into blooming monkshood in hideous grey and plum. Pale and lifeless; a marionette on toadstool strings. A puppet in fluorescence. 

"She's—"

Tommy's hand reaches down, fingers curling around the sprout. 

Don't— not Tommy, too—

He pulls back, and Joel catches the tremble in his joints, the whites of his knuckles, when he spreads his fingers. 

In the palm of his hand sits a leaf. 

A leaf. 

The bark that leaves his chest tears right through the clot in his throat. Rips him open from the inside out. 

"A fucking leaf—"

He carries her back, and doesn't let go until the doctor is there, urging him out of the room. 

"You'll get in the way." 

He sees the looks they give him when he passes, but Joel never cared what people think. 

Doesn't plan on starting now, either. 

He's on the wrong side of fifty, and has more blood on his hands than the looted bars of soap could ever scour clean. He knows who he is, and maybe, maybe, knows what he wants, and Ron's loud mouth never meant much to him, anyway. 

Joel gets a name when she's sleeping after surgery—lucky, he overhears, got there in the knick of time, any later and—and brings nothing with him when he leaves. He won't need it. Doesn't want it.

He finds them chatting over an open fire, and beats them to death with nothing but his bare hands. 

He doesn't burn them. Doesn't bury them. 

When he's finished, covered in blood and aching, and satisfied, he drives an ice pick through their skulls (the same thing, he finds, that caused the hole in her side), and leaves them to rot. 

They say nothing about the blood on his shirt, or the broken, mangled fingers of his hand. He's content to leave them. To feel the agony as his broken bones split through cracked skin.

(He thinks of her—broken, blue—and clenches his hands so tight, the pain makes him blackout.)

He only lets Maria patch him up when she hisses about infection, and blood poisoning. 

Says nothing at all about what he'd done, where he'd gone. 

She doesn't ask. 

When she's finished, she says: "woke up yesterday."

He knows. Still: "that right?" 

"Gonna go see her?"

"Don't need me crowding around her bed."

"Maybe she, for some reason, wants to see your ugly mug."

"She tell you that?" 

"Didn't ask about you, if that's what you're asking." She snorts. Shakes her head. "Both a'you are really perfect for each other, you know?"

"We ain't." 

Her brow raises. Something prickles across her expression. "Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing," she shakes her head with a small smirk. "Just… didn't know you knew the word we, is all." 

"We done here?"

He doesn't go to her. 

Stubborn as an ox, she comes to him. 

She says nothing about the bandages on his black and blue hands. Nothing about the way he can't make a fist through all the swelling. Her hands are soft, and warm, when they wrap around his. Small, delicate. A baby deer cupping the paws of a grizzly bear. 

His eyes flash with something that tastes of the same rotten satisfaction he felt gnarled inside of his chest when the man who left her for dead on the side of a road wheezed as Joel broke his nose, and then battered the broken bulb into a messy, mushy pulp. 

He didn't stop until grey matter leaked through the holes. 

She knows what he did. He feels it in the way she stares at the black, swollen mess of his fingers. Bones broke on teeth, on a fractured skull. 

He doesn't regret it. He doesn't even think he enjoyed it much, really. 

It had to be done. Had to. 

They took a life. Varsity Jack, she tells him. Stabbed in the heart when he tried to defend her with the same ice pick that ripped through her flesh. 

Her tone is flat. Empty. 

He sees bruises on her knuckles, those little fists were her only defence against them, and the red welt on the man's face makes sense now. 

He feels proud. 

She's not broken—battered, beaten, torn to pieces—but she still stands, whole, intact. Resilient. Strong. 

(A survivalist. The only time she ever alluded to more was to tell him that he was worrying for nothing. That, above all, she would survive. Outlive him, even.

"What are you so afraid of, old man?" A cheeky wink. Her tongue dips out, and touches the upper corner of her lip. "I'm gonna outlive you, anyway."

God, he thought, he really hopes she fucking does.)

It doesn't surprise him to see her eyes cloud with anger, arsenic white, when she brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. Anyone else might have asked why. Said thank you, even. 

She just murmurs, "I hope they suffered." 

Saccharine sweet. 

Rotten to the core. 

He saw the same shade of calamity in her eyes when she wandered in, grim and distant, as the one that stared back at him in the mirror. Her complicity in this doesn't surprise him. If anything, he wonders if she's angry he left nothing behind for her. 

The thought makes his lips quirk in a needle of something he hasn't felt in a long time. 

"They did."

The words are uttered like a promise. His busted pinky twitches, and it makes her smile. A bloom of petal pink flowering across her face. Soft and tender. The swell of a sea mark burgeoning out in the gloom of grey. 

And all for him.

Joel pulled her in close. Closer still. 

(Too close, maybe, because now he doesn't know how he'll sleep without her by his side)

His thumb slips over the tumid skin poking out from tight, black sutures. The threads are the only thing keeping her together. 

Beneath it is a bruise. Black. The tip of his thumb presses against the cresting peak. Knuckle to skin, it's a perfect fit. 

(In all the same ways he and she aren't.)

"I'm okay, Joel," she whispers, and the thick, dulcified tone of her voice shakes him from the labyrinth of his mind. 

His grief, sorrow, the ones that he tries to shove into a box marked apathy, are worn in the crevasses that line his weathered face. Deep canyons make him look ages older than he is. He wonders if she can see them. If she can peel the divots back and uncover the festering sickness, the rot, that sits in the folds. 

It's his own fault, he thinks, for stuffing his grief in the same place he keeps his worry. 

"Yeah," he intones, and he isn't sure if he's speaking to her, himself, or a god he hasn't spoken to since he was eighteen and Sarah got sick for the first time. Maybe everyone, all of them, all at once.

It makes her huff. "Am I losing you already, old man?"

"Ain't that old," he bites back, hips lifting when she slides down. It makes him nudge something that has her eyes fluttering, mouth dropping, slack. Her nails catch skin when they rake over his chest. 

Sex has always been an outlet. A comfort. It blankets that part of his head that never quiets—failures, failings—and offers a respite from it all. Her weight on his hips, chest, thighs doesn't dull it all but buffers it. 

White noise in his ears when her nails rake over his skin. The scent of her clings in the air around them—sex, kerosene, cinder, ash: the scent of a wet forest after a wildfire scorched the earth—and clots out the fetor of decay, of mildew, and moss, the earthy tang that reminds them of death. Of them. 

It's a distraction. Distance in skin, sweat, and heat. 

It's just sex, just—

"God, Joel," she gasps loud, sharp, when he pitches his hips into her, blunt and unforgiving, and hits deep. Carves out the shape of him in her soft, fluttering flesh, and tries not to get lost in the thick scent of her. 

It dusts over everything until he still smells her even when she isn't here. 

Temporary made permanent. 

It's the very thing he runs from finally catching up. He feels the graze of fingers ghosting over the nape of his neck when he looks at her, poised and centred above him. Aphrodite in flesh and bone. Her fingers prickle his skin with their sharp tips, and the indents left behind are soothed over when she gasps his name like it's something special. Meaningful. An orison murmured in the quiet box of a confessional booth. 

The curtain rustles. 

"Yeah," he grunts, low and filthy; the noise sticks in the back of his throat when he feels her tighten up around him. A little apple-sized fist of pleasure. He flexes his thighs, hands grasping her tight, and knows he's going to keep her here again tonight. "Fuck, sweetheart—"

The way she moves is liquid. Mercury. He watches, eagle-eyed and enraptured, as she squares her shoulders, and takes him to the root. The base. 

Her presence in his life atrophied his defences until they lay scattered on the sheets that reek of her. In the folds of his pillow where he rests his head at night. The featherlight wood of his guitar when she leans over his shoulder, and says, play me another one, Joel. 

He's a dog without an owner. A stray mutt on the outskirts of town, wandering through the city in search of sustenance. 

She's the one who keeps feeding him. Lays out a dish just for him, and scratches her nails behind his ears until the curl of his lips subsides. A slow broiled trust. He stops showing her his canines, his claws, when she shows him the vulnerable curve of her neck, and lets him mark her skin with his touch. 

Joel will mourn her the same way he does everyone else—achingly empty, and tearless—but he thinks, now, that he might think of her once, and then never again. He's selfish. Always has been. 

(Can't afford not to be when she looks better bearing his mark. When he sleeps easier with her breath in his ear.)

Just sex. The words are weak in the back of his head, and he feels the shaky resolve begin to crumble, chossy wobbling under unsteady feet, when her head falls back in a mockery of prayer, the utterance of his name heavier than the sins on his shoulders. Just sex. Just—

The grille falls, and shatters into smelted pig iron at their feet.

—it's just her, him, and the beats in between. A slow simmer of sex to something more. Something he isn't quite ready for, yet knows he can't let go of. Won't. Not now, not ever. He won't give her anything, nothing but the touch of his hands, and the weight of his body, but it's juxtaposed to the worry heavy in his chest, the anger still lacing the broken bones in his fingers when his thumb brushes the curve of her wound. 

It splits in her ardour. The bottom scab tugged too much, lifting from broken flesh. 

Ichor pebbles on the seam. It pools an angry merlot against the indigo scab, but when it slides down her flesh, it's Phlegethon red. 

His thumb catches it. It's warm, and sticky. He smears it over her quivering belly, and fights the urge to try and lick it clean. Knows, somehow, it would taste of Lethe. 

Joel's teeth ache when he grinds them together, tongue lashing across the ivory seal. He's thinking too much—abstracts, concretes; they blur together in a cacophony of want, take, run, hide—

Keep. 

"It's okay," she says again, as if all his secrets laid bare. As if the talons digging into his flesh somehow tapped a vein, an artery, that leads directly to his stem, and she's syphoning the thoughts in his head with the same ease that she steals the breath from his lungs. "It's okay, Joel. It's—"

She doesn't finish. Her words are shorn, bitten at the grain when he reaches up, holding her around the waist, and brutally fucks into her weeping cunt with the finesse of a starving man invited to a feast fit for a King. 

It jostles her. Breasts swaying, head bobbing back and forth as he nearly lifts her off the bed with the force of his thrusts. 

The brutality of it screams one shrill echo of it isn't. None of this is okay. None of it. 

She's chiselling him open until he's a raw wound exposed to the unforgiving air. Until he bleeds and thinks of her. Until the only sound that drowns out the terror raking across his synapses is her voice when she murmurs his name. 

"We're fine, Joel—," it carries the flavour of axiom. Aphorism when she says: "we'll be okay."

She trembles over him, muscles straining to keep up. This isn't her taking; despite being perched above him like a queen astride her throne, she gives. Lowers herself the way he likes. Circles her hips until he sees white behind his eyelids. 

The weight of her feels like an anvil. The heat is enough to liquefy his bones. 

"Keep goin'," he rasps the words out—a strange limbo of being both an encouragement and a demand. It lacks the bite it had before, when he'd bend her over and fuck her until he was satisfied, until the howling in his head, and the ache in his bones was eased with the soporific gossamer only sex could give him. "Just like that, pretty thing—"

It's a slip. An accident. 

Her rhythm stutters. Her ribs expand wide under his palms; ballooning up so much he wonders if she's trying to burst them at the seams or float away. Irrational, of course. Sex makes him stupid. Makes him hungry and needy, and has him feeling like he's almost, almost human, and—

He holds on a little tighter. 

Pretty thing. Her lips form the words in a soundless exhale. Pretty thing. She's used to him calling her all sorts of sobriquets smeared in a palpable stroke of derision. It's not contemptuous, but he makes his mockery of it clear with the flout in his tone. Sarcastic, caustic. 

Sure thing, beautiful. If that's what you want, sweetheart. Go on then, gorgeous. 

She always wore the same sour twist to her lips, the exaggerated eye roll. The heavy huff. 

It was never flirtatious, never complimentary. 

This—pretty thing—is the softest he'd ever regarded her. 

He watches her throat bob when she swallows, eyes tracing the nervous flutter as she struggles to grasp the concurrency of his words, the way he said them. Their meaning. It flickers through those depths that threaten consumption whenever they dust over the length of him. Thinking. Thinking. 

They were always abstract, but his words are concrete, and she isn't sure how to carry the heavy cinder he drops on her. Her fingers are used to the ephemeral weight of his scorn; the delineation of distance—unspoken but unignorable. Unequivocal in its separation. 

"Wow," she breathes, tremulous. She grasps at normalcy but he can see how much those two words have rattled her. She swallows again. Eyes narrowing. Viper pits. "Getting soft in your old age, huh?"

Joel isn't ready to acquiesce. 

He pitches his hips up, letting her feel the solid length of him—blunt, burning iron—and feels his chest flutter when she whines, head dropping back as he bludgeons into her core. 

"Fuck, Joel—"

He isn't soft. Isn't malleable. He's made of carbonised grief, anguish, despair. Reinforced with volcanic clinkers running rivets of apoplectic fury. 

He isn't soft. Isn't what she deserves, or needs, or should even want—

But the way she says his name is pyrolysing. 

Cinder. Soot. Ash. 

He spent so much time holding firm against the walls to keep her out, he never bothered to filter the air he breathed. She clots in his lungs. The scent of her builds. A mass forms. Metastasises inside of him. 

Her hands fall there, palms drawn to the steady thump of his beating heart. It drums under her skin, a stuttering rhythm that makes her own chest swell with her shaky inhale. 

His slide, rough skin scraping over her soft flesh. She burns hotter than the acorn stove in the corner of the room, and he feels the heat simmering in his veins. Scents the sulphur and volcanic ash in the air when she leans down, bending at the elbows to press her lips against his. It's chaste, as far as their usual kisses go. Biting and vitriolic. As if being sweet, tender, was forbidden. 

Maybe it was. He doesn't know what he'd have done if she kissed him like this back then. Honeyed rich, and molasses slow. It tastes like smoke but reminds him of the rock candy he'd make at home with Tommy when he was young. 

She moans into his mouth when his hands slip around her waist, her thigh. He holds her steady, and rocks up into her to the same tremulous beat as her clumsy, fragile kisses. The vibrations buzz on his bruised lips, and the tingle of her voice washing over him makes his cock twitch inside of her. 

The press of him, unyielding and firm, against her soft, soft walls makes him grunt. Another noise pulled into the cacophony of them. It's lower than anything he's ever made before. New. Novice. 

Fucking her now feels marginally different than it had only yesterday. It's raw. Vulnerable. 

He thinks of a slow burn. A candle wick. 

Wonders, then, if she feels it, too. This rawness that sits in his thundering chest; a scraped-out, hollow feeling that draws in more and more of her until the crater is filled with the essence of her sweat, the heavy breaths she tries to stifle in her throat to keep kissing him like she'll never get the chance to again. 

And that must be it. 

This isn't what he normally gives her—bruises and bites, beard burns over the delicate softness of her flesh; he leaves her kiss-bruised and drunk off of the taste of him, malt-heavy and whisky sour. 

Intimacy is saved for moments when she cums around him, tightening up like a strung bow in his archer's hold; when she squeezes herself into the nook of his shoulder, whimpering as he fucks her through her high, and chases his release in the spasming clutch of her willing body. When he cums, painting her stomach, her thighs, her ass, with the stain of his spend, the only physical proof he'd been inside of her, and smears the wet mixture of them on her heated flesh, still buzzing with the aftershocks of her orgasmic haze. 

It's reserved for the microcosm carved from their shared release, drenched in the glow of the chemical slurry that saturates their brains, releasing endorphins until they feel nothing but the buzz of each other. Skin to sweaty skin. Each breath a gasp. 

He lets her linger in these soft moments. This singular dissonance sits incongruously with everything else between them. But then she shifts. The microcosm that filmed around them bursts. 

She slips away after he does, slowly leaning over to pull on her discarded clothes, and wipe the stain of him from her body. 

His fingers itch for a cigarette when he watches her through lidded eyes as she stumbles around on fawn legs. 

She always hesitates for a moment. Joel often wonders if she's waiting for him to ask her to stay. 

He never does. She leaves. 

(Rinse. Repeat.)

But now—

"Easy, now," he murmurs, tongue slipping through the gap of her teeth to chase her taste. "Don't rush this, sweetheart."

Everything about this is unlike him, and she moans her disquietude into the scant space between them, brow knotting together when her stitches pull, and he leaves a bloodied trail across her waist, knuckles split and bleeding anew. 

They're both bloodied, he finds. Drenched in each other's sweat, spittle, and blood. 

It makes dizzy. Makes his fingers dig into her flesh, holding her closer to his heaving chest as he takes. His hips raise off the bed—a clumsy slant into her welcoming sex, and he feels her shudder when he hits deep, cock nudging that soft place inside of her that always makes her forehead crease. 

He can't see it when she leans down, peppering wet kisses across his grey beard, and painting hard through her nose when he presses the flat of his palm against the base of her spine and fucks into her with sharp, unrhythmical thrusts. 

"That's it, take it just like that—," he grinds the words off, and tastes the condescension in his tone. 

In response, she bites down on his pulse point. 

Another break in the routine. The rules lay scattered around them, smouldering embers of this incipient beginning to something neither of them is ready for. 

Her hands wiggle out from between their chests, bringing them closer together than before, and when she tangles her fingers in the damp curls behind his ears, he swears he can feel her heartbeat echoing through his ribs. 

He spears himself into her faster, seeking that place he knows will make her melt—

"Joel, oh—ah, fuck—"

—and once found, he cruelly angles the head of his cock into it, rasping out words of patronisation into her ear. 

Good girl, he says, and groans when her cunt tightens around him like a nautical bow. Taking me so good. Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum around my cock—

He can feel his release brimming up like a fever in his veins. White-hot and arctic cold. It sets his nerves on fire, and the pressure of her around him makes him see pure white. 

He thinks of church on Sundays when she chants his name like a hymnal—Joel, Joel, Joel—and finds nirvana when she sinks her teeth deeper into his flesh, unmarked and unclaimed until now. He'll have the perfect impression of her teeth embedded in his skin, and thought alone makes that gnarled spool inside of him loosen. 

Joel is taken by surprise when she cums—voice a shaky, shrill howl of his name, and the sound of it, the blood that stains his beard when she turns, baring her teeth and pressing them flat to his jaw, makes him grunt. It's raw. An oozing wound.

She flutters around him like the beat that echoes through his bones, and feels a hunger inside of him grow. 

The uncoiled knot inside of him rears, once dormant and dead to the world, now gnashing its jowls at the hands that prodded it from its slumber. Rapacious. A black hole when it yawns. 

The town knows she's his. Has since she sidled up to him, all soft smiles and viper eyes, and asked him to dance, for a drink, and what's a handsome man like you doing in a place like this? Got anyone I should worry about, Joel? Wanna dance? Wanna fuck—

And they know, now, that he's hers when he carries her in his arms, and knocked his forearm into the necks of anyone who tried to pry her from his clutch. 

They know. They know, but it's not enough. 

He wants to mark her, stain her. Leave her with the permanent smear of him on her pretty skin. 

Fuck—

This wasn't supposed to happen, but the keen awareness comes much too late. 

He fucks the frustration into the tight clutch of her willing, forgiving, body, and tries not to come apart at the seams when she mewls his name like he's just as much of a burden to her as she is to him. Bankrupt. Bereft of the walls and the rationale that kept him lightyears away from everyone else around him (until Ellie, the hospital—this place that reeks of stagnancy and burrowed into his marrow), he crumbles in her hold once more. 

His release hits him like a sucker punch to his gut, and the force of it makes him ache.

He doesn't pull out like he always, always, does despite the contraceptive she has, and spilling inside of her spasming cunt feels too much like heaven for him not to come apart at the seams. For him not to shatter into pieces when she pulls him closer, and murmurs, that's it, Joel. That's it—cum for me. Just let go, I got you—

And for the first time in a long time, he does.

It's an awkward assemblage of limbs that don't fit together, bodies that are too incompatible, but he tugs her down onto the mattress beside him, and makes it work. She rests the flat of her palm over his sweat-slicked chest, nails raking through the dusted grey smatter of hair on his chest. The inside of her thigh is wet with him, with her, them, when she slides it over his hip. 

Her head rests on soft tissue where his arm and shoulder meet, ear nestled into his armpit. His arm around her back, fingers resting on the curve of her elbow. It's then, when he finds his thumb brushing small circles into her dewy skin, that he realises what this is. 

Cuddling, he thinks, a touch derisively, in the apocalypse.

It was never a burning release, the aftermath of that intoxicating chemical bath of endorphins, oxytocin, and then a quick until next time. 

Being trade partners for most of the scheduled shifts—his brutality, and her knowledge of survival made them a perfect match outside of this clumsy moment of intimacy—meant that she often stayed for a few hours afterwards discussing plans, and who to barter with next or the places they haven't yet scavenged. Lying naked beside each other, shoulders sometimes brushing as they spoke—that was the extent of their post-sex ritual. 

This, he knows, is new. Different. 

It has the same cadence as last night when his massive hand swallowed her wrist in his palm, and he said, just sleep here, but it's a syncopation. Lighter, somehow, than the gruff way he demanded her company, the brutal divot between his brow. 

She moves, slow and languid, and for a moment he thinks about letting her leave. Repairing the chasm that crumbled between them into heaps of broken ruination and anguish, her hand brushes his when she pulls away, and he knows he won't. 

For such a massive presence, she's surprisingly small in his grasp. The bump of her wrist bone fits snug against the broken, swollen knuckle of his middle finger when he folds his hand around hers. 

The hitch in her breath, the rapid flutter of her pulse beating against his too rough, too worn palm are the only measure of her hesitation, her confusion. 

They're not themselves in this moment. 

The moor around him collapses. A sinkhole forms. 

He clings to her and drags her under with him.

The words won't form on his lips. His throat is bereft of what he feels in his marrow, unable to utter them aloud, to make them real. As if speaking his burgeoning desires is somehow worse than a death sentence. 

Wanting in this world is dangerous, and ruinous, but when Joel sees the dawning realisation buoying to the surface in those unfathomable black holes, he knows there's nothing more worrisome, more deadly, to him than her insatiable appetite. Her desire for more. 

More—

And just him. 

Something in her gaze splinters. Cracks. Her shoulder slump in something that tastes of the same defeat that taints the pinch in his brow. 

"You are getting softer, Joel Miller," she takes a stab at a joke but her hands shake too much for it to land properly. "Who'd have thought all it would take is old age and mortality—"

"Shut up," he grumbles, and fights the thrum of satisfaction that spumes in his veins when she lays back down beside him. "Didn't hear you complainin' this much five minutes ago."

"Yeah, well—" her hands settle on his chest, fingers carting through the damp, matted hair. "There's a reason I'm always on top, you know. Worried you might throw your back out." 

"You say that like I haven't already." 

Her chin scraps over the soft flesh where his bicep meets the curve of his shoulder, eyes bright in the morning sun that smears rays of ochre across the bridge of her nose.

She's pretty, he thinks, and feels that same gnawing in his guts, that same hunger, when she dips, and presses a kiss to his skin. 

"Poor baby," she coos, brows drawing together in mock sympathy. "I can't believe a little missionary ruined you so badly. Guess I should take better care of the elderly."

"Wasn't the missionary," he huffs. Her skin is soft, tacky, when he runs his fingers over her shoulder. "It was carrying your heavy ass home."

"Did my heavy ass snap your hips, too—"

"Christ," he bites out, but it lacks any heat. "You just never shut up, do you?" 

He hears the click in her throat when she swallows. 

"Guess you'll just have to shut me up, won't you, old—"

He presses his lips to hers, and steals the goading words from her quivering mouth. 

"Call me an old man again, and I'll spank your ass, little girl."

The condescending tone is thick, but where he expects her indignation over the same words spoken to her by everyone else when she said she wanted to go with him on runs—stay here where it's safe, little girl—it instead makes her suck in a sharp breath between her teeth. He feels the vacuum of it against his lips, and blinks up at her. 

"Did you like that—"

"No," she snaps, and drops her head to his chest. "God, Joel, you really know how to ruin a moment."

"Is that what this was? A moment?"

"Yes," she volleys back. "You don't think it was?"

He swallows down the tang of panic that salts his tongue, and presses his lips to her crown instead. 

"Ain't much of one, was it?"

"We'll make a better one," she murmurs, the lilt of a promise heavy in her words. 

When she settles in his fold, cheek laying flat against his chest—hiding her embarrassment he tones with a particular thrum of fondness so sweet it makes his teeth ache—he folds his arm over her shoulder, keeping her tucked into the bracket of his body. 

She's too small for him to ever be a perfect fit. Too hard inside that pretty little head for him to ever wiggle through. Too soft for him not to ruin her completely when he holds her too tight in his hands that overlap in a way that sometimes makes him dizzy, feverish with want, with fear. 

She doesn't click in the same way Tess does—did. 

A silent agreement of unspoken distance. Never ask for more, it hissed because you'll be brutally disappointed. Never hunger because you won't ever be satiated. Don't yearn. Don't want. Don't, don't, don't—

No, she doesn't click. She doesn't fit. Not with him. Not at all. 

(Tess left him whole. 

She devours.)

Consumes. 

Her eyes are black holes, and ever since she looked at him through the fanned ring of her lashes, and said: you won't break me that easily, he's been standing on the edge of her event horizon waiting for that perfect singularity to swallow him whole. 

(He thought her pull would happen quickly. Instantaneous. 

But she's been ripping him apart the entire time; morsel after morsel until all that remains is raw nerve. Scraps.)

A slow descent into comfort, kinship. 

She's on the same plane of existence as Tommy, Ellie. Maria, too, he supposes, a touch begrudgingly. His circle widens, expands. The bubble encompassing her, too, and he knows that he'd mourn her in the same hushed breath as the rest. 

I'll outlive you, old man. 

(He's never wanted something more in his life right now than for those words to come to fruition.)

For the first time since the walls reared, since the gunshot that still echoes in his ears like a reminder of his sins, his failures, Joel thinks of tomorrow. And the one after that. And after that. 

He thinks of her, and them, this, in the afternoon. Over old stew. Tommy's laughter. Maria's knowing glances. Ellie's anger. Her scorn. Distrust. 

Wasting the night away in the bar that's always several octaves too loud not to make him tense, antsy. Watching her dance around the room, ballerina nimble with a sprinter's pace. Listen to her joke and laugh with the men who look at her a touch too long, and a shade too intense, and—

Bringing her home after. Back here in this small house where he rots. Where he plays his guitar as if the chords of Hurt would ever be enough to drown out the bullets and the bloodshed. The clicks, the groans. The scent of moss, and fungus. 

Taking her to bed in the sheets that hasn't stopped smelling like her since he fucked her three times over Christmas until she sobbed into his pillow, and begged him for respite. When she brushed the grey hair from his temple with fingers that wouldn't stop trembling despite the ease in her grin, and the polynya in her eyes as she regarded him with more than just desire. More than just sex and sweat and the comfort that comes with losing yourself to the chemical high of another body tucked into the crevasse of your own. 

She doesn't fit. She doesn't belong. 

But fuck—

He knows he's gone when he can't imagine her anywhere else. 

"Sure," he says, and wonders when she let herself into his life, into the gnarled remanants of his chest. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

(He only dreams in black and white, but when he closes his eyes and dreams of her, it's in a startling palette of browns, reds, and blues.)

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 1: Can I Buy You a Beer?

You run into someone you don't expect when out for a drink. A continuation of Halcyon, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Yes it's a Javi gif but we're gonna say he's Joel because Joel is in his 30s for this fic, OK?

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.7K

AO3 | Prologue | Next Chapter

Austin, Texas

September 30, 2022

You were going to strangle Alyssa. 

It sure as hell hadn’t been your idea to go out drinking to celebrate the end of the first month of the school year. Definitely not your idea to do it at a bar that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned this decade. And it absolutely was not your idea to try to pick up a guy while out at said dingy bar. 

But it apparently was Alyssa’s idea of a good time. 

You sighed as you watched people go to and from the bar from your seat tucked in the corner. You tried to come up with stories for the people you could see in the dim light, like they were characters in a book you were writing. The biker in a leather vest, you decided, had been an accountant for 20 years when he bought a Harley during his midlife crisis. He’d become a mechanic when he became too obsessed with the bike to be satisfied behind a desk. His wife was pissed but his son thought he was way cooler now. The couple at the end of the bar were on a second… no, third date. She was deciding whether or not to fuck him. You thought it was going to go in his favor.

Alyssa had moved out of the seat next to the guy she’d taken up with and into his lap. You wondered if there was a world record for how far someone’s tongue could be down another person’s throat. It had to trigger her gag reflex at some point, right? Or maybe she didn’t have one. That must be nice. Maybe that was the key to being good at oral. Maybe you’d be better at it if you didn’t have a gag reflex. Maybe you’d still have a husband if you were better at oral. 

You downed the last of your Shiner and rapped your fingers along the side of the glass. That was one upside to being back in Texas, at least. Shiner Bock on tap was a nice perk. 

Next time you went out with Alyssa, you were driving yourself. If there was a next time. 

But you’d probably cave before too long. You didn’t have many friends and you liked her. Even though this night hadn’t been much fun and getting to know her at all had been awkward at first. Alyssa was a few years younger than you and the first time she’d stumbled into your office she had your book in her hands and a wide smile on her face. 

“I am so sorry if this is weird,” she said after a brief introduction. “But… I’m in love with your book and I am dying for you to sign it!” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little and she passed it to you. You flipped to the title page and scrawled “Alyssa, Thanks for reading. With love, your coworker” before you penned the signature you’d practiced a million times with your agent below and handed it back. She squeaked, a little giddy,  before offering to show you the best restaurants near campus. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’d grown up in Austin so you had plenty of favorites without any extra help. 

Still, you had this strange drive to have Alyssa see you as a normal person. Award-winning author famous was, thankfully, not the kind to get you recognized on the street but it still made you uncomfortable. Book signings and readings were exercises in misery. There was the acute agony of being observed and noted, the strange knowledge that, for these strangers, this brief encounter was going to be something they remembered. They’d remember if you had a mustard stain on your shirt or if there was lipstick on your teeth or if the stress you were under as you traveled from city to city while your marriage fell to pieces around you made you snap at someone. You never realized how keenly you valued anonymity until it wasn’t an option anymore. 

The very last thing you wanted was someone who was a fan with an office two doors down from your own.

So, you’d decided to have her be a friend instead. Make it so she saw you as a person and not someone from the inside of a book jacket. The two of you had gone to lunch a few times and out for a quick drink once, too. It had been nice and, ever since, it felt like she had stopped watching you like a pseudo-celebrity and started seeing you as a friend. Or, at the very least, a friendly acquaintance. 

So when she’d asked if you wanted to get some drinks tonight, you’d said yes, envisioning the lounge she’d suggested the first time you’d gone out, one with jazz music playing quietly enough that you could chat over it. 

That was not where she suggested this time. 

But you were already here and edging in on tipsy and if you were going to spend the night alone at a bar and, eventually, at home with your vibrator, you may as well be drunk doing it. 

You made your way to the bar and ordered a tequila shot and another beer, drumming your fingers on the bar top as you waited for your drinks. 

“Well hey there, beautiful,” a man who had to have at least 10 years on you sidled up next to you at the bar. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ getting your own drinks?” 

“No one else was volunteering,” you gave him a tight smile. “But I’m not looking for company so…” 

“Don’t tell me you’re here all by your lonesome?” He smiled a lopsided, cocky smile, looking you up and down. The accent felt a little heavy handed and the cowboy hat put it over the top. You wondered, idly, if he was hiding a bald spot under there. 

“I prefer flying solo, but thank you,” you said, peering around him to watch the bartender flirt with a girl who looked like she was newly 21 and probably here slumming it at this bar that was far from the school. You sighed and settled in to wait even longer for your drinks. 

“Girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be all on her own,” he said, leaning against the bar and blocking your view. “No way someone hasn’t snapped you up yet, a face like that…” 

“Oh my face has nothing to do with it,” you smiled, forcing your eyes to go wide enough that you looked a little crazed. “It’s because I’m a murderous sociopath with six bodies buried beneath my house.” 

The man just blinked at you, a puzzled look on his face. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head and you considered, for a moment, timing him to see how long it would take to piece it together. 

“She’s right you know,” a familiar voice from behind you made you stiffen. “There's a reason she's here alone. This one’s insane, she’d chew you up and spit you out, man. Best you find someone else to try n’take home.” 

“Sorry, man,” he said. “Didn’t know she was spoken for.” 

You watched the man shove himself back from the bar and prowl off to find another woman to try and bed before turning, slowly, to the man standing at your back. Your heart beat picked up in spite of yourself when you saw him, as tall and broad and somehow even more handsome than ever. 

Joel Miller smiled, one of his cocky, lopsided smiles that made his cheek dimple. 

“Hey, Goldie.” 

***

It was you.

Here, in this shitty bar in his corner of Austin on a Friday night was you. 

Joel froze when he saw you, sitting in a corner by yourself, watching the bar with a far away look on your face. 

It was a look he knew intimately, even though it had been 11 years since he’d last seen your face in person. You’d get that look when you were thinking about something important, something you wanted to remember. You’d have that look and then you’d open up that gold notebook of yours and write furiously for a minute or two before stashing it away. 

“You ever gonna let me read any of that?” He’d teased one day as you sat, curled up in the corner of his couch, your notebook on your knees. 

“No,” you scoffed. “Trust me, you don’t want anywhere near this disaster area. It’s basically just the word vomit version of my brain, it’s a mess up there.” 

Joel didn’t push you on it but, truthfully, he’d have killed for a chance to see inside your mind for a moment. He wanted to crawl inside your skull and look at whatever you’d let him see. He wanted to memorize you, carry you with him, wrap himself up in you at every opportunity. You felt like home, more than anything else he’d ever had. Of course he wanted to be close enough to you to see inside your mind. 

But that was a long time ago. Yes, it had been 11 years since he’d seen you but it had been even longer since he’d seen you when you weren’t pissed at him. In fairness, he was pretty pissed at you, too, but you’d started it. 

And he wasn’t even sure why. He didn’t know what set you off to begin with. One night it was prom and the next thing he knew, you were gone. Taking off across the country before graduation without so much as a goodbye. You changed your number and your mom wouldn’t give it to him and you were just gone. Like the two of you hadn’t spent every day together for the last three years, like he had all meant nothing at all to you. 

Joel saved up the money to buy a bus ticket to your fancy fucking college, intending to find you there and demand an explanation, but that hadn’t gone as planned. He just settled into not knowing and not understanding why the most important relationship in his life had been ripped away from him without a word. 

But it had been a long time. He’d moved past the resentment of it and now he was all but awestruck at seeing you again. 

“Hey, do you want…” Tommy’s voice trailed off and his eyes tracked where Joel��s were looking. “Holy fucking shit, is that…” 

“Yup.” 

“Did you know she…” 

“Yup.” 

Tommy was quiet for a moment.

“Know she was gonna be here?” 

“Hell no.” 

Joel caught a glimpse of his brother nodding out of the corner of his eye - he wasn’t about to stop looking at you, he was worried if he did you might disappear again - and sighed. 

“You gonna talk to her?” Tommy asked after a moment. 

“No idea.” 

“Shit dude,” Tommy clapped his hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Good luck with… whatever the fuck is gonna happen there.” 

Joel glared at him for a second but kept his eyes on you. One of the other guys on the crew went to get the first round, something he appreciated because it meant he could keep watching you at a distance. He wasn’t sure what the fuck to say to you and he wasn’t about to just go talk to you with nothing to say. 

But then you went to the bar and a guy was clearly annoying the hell out of you and, before he really knew what he was doing, he was heading for you. 

“Hey, Goldie.” 

You looked at him for a moment. You looked as surprised to see him as he was to see you. 

“Hey, Joel.” 

He smiled a little wider. 

“Can I buy you a beer?” He asked. 

“You’re a bit late, I’m afraid,” you said. “Already put it on my tab. But that’s assuming the bartender remembers I exist which seems like it might be aiming a bit high…” 

Joel hung over the bar and hit the top of it a few times.

“Hey, Jimmy!” He yelled. The bartender whipped his head around. “Stop fuckin’ around, get my friend her shit, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, turning back to the woman he was talking to for a second before making you a shot first and then pouring your beer. He set both in front of you at the same time.

“Thank you,” you said, both to Joel and to Jimmy, and you did the shot, wincing as the tequila went down. 

Joel whistled

“Shit, you lookin’ to get fucked up?” 

“Well,” you coughed a little on the liquor before taking a sip of beer. “I already need to take an Uber home because the friend I came with is currently being devoured by that charming gentleman over there…” You nodded to a man at a table against the wall, a brunette draped across his lap who looked to be surgically connected to the man at the mouth. “So I figured, fuck it, may as well get hammered.” 

Joel laughed a little at that. 

“Since you’ve got no one else to get hammered with,” he shrugged. “Want to do it with me? Catch up a bit?” 

You thought for a second, taking a sip of beer. 

“Sure,” you said. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

Joel got a beer, too, and followed you back to your table before he settled in beside you. Part of it felt so natural, being next to you, but it was so different, too. You were different, fuck knows he was different. 

“So,” he said, watching you. “You’re in town.” 

“I am,” you nodded. 

“Visiting Anna?” He asked, even though he knew the answer. It had made news, the fact that you were coming to teach at UT.

“Work,” you said. “Moved back a few months ago.” 

“So what do you do now?” He asked. “For work, I mean.” 

“Teach, mostly,” you said. “I’m at UT now. Literature and creative writing.” 

“Seems right up your alley,” he nodded. “Always liked that sorta thing. You ever write that book?” 

You nodded, taking another sip of beer. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Just one, though.” 

“Ever publish it?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded again. “A few years ago…” Joel laughed and you frowned. “What?” 

“You really think I don’t know you wrote a fuckin’ book?” He asked. “Course I know you wrote a fuckin’ book. Jesus, Goldie, your name is on fuckin’ posters and shit! You think I live under a rock?” 

You laughed. 

“You dick!” You shoved him playfully. “Look, you’re basically illiterate, I didn’t want to assume…” 

“Hey just because I do shit besides read does not mean I’m illiterate!” He laughed. “You’re just a nerd…” 

“You only finished high school because I’m a nerd,” you rolled your eyes. “Pretty sure your coach was ready to make me an honorary member of the team since me hounding you about homework was the only thing that kept your ass grade eligible.” 

“Oh, you were the MVP,” he smiled, watching you take another sip of your beer and you smiled that amused little smile, the one you had when you were humoring him, the same one you’d had since you were 15 years old. “No question about it.” 

“Since you know all about me apparently,” you teased. “What’s been going on with you?” 

Joel shrugged, taking a drink. Mostly to buy himself time. 

Did he want to admit to you that he’d all but taken his life and driven it into the ground since he last saw you? 

Not that he ever felt like he had much potential, anyway. You and his mom had been the only people who’d ever really seen anything in him. But then you left and she died and was he even failing anybody anymore? Certainly not himself. And everything he did now he did to make sure he didn’t fail his daughter who, for the last 10 plus years, had been the only thing in his life that made it seem like all the shit was worth something. 

But he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell you about her, either. It seemed cheap, to bring her up in a bar to you of all people, one of the only reasons she existed in the first place. 

“Kept busy,” he said instead with a shrug. “Workin’ construction. Roped Tommy into it about a year ago, too. His dumb ass kept getting into it with people, told him I wasn’t going to keep bailing him out of jail if he didn’t at least look like he was trying to get his shit together.” 

You nodded and took another sip of beer. 

“Do you like it?” 

He shrugged again. 

“Pays the bills.” 

“Not what I asked, Joel.” 

He looked at you. You were watching him in that keen way you had, your head cocked slightly to the side, your eyes looking at him like you could cut through everything, everything he ever had or was or would be, down into the lanky boy he’d been when he’d first met you. 

“Not sure why it matters,” he said after a minute. “But it’s fine, I guess. Crew’s good. Work’s steady.” 

“It matters because you deserve something that fulfills you,” you frowned slightly. “Don’t you think so?” 

He laughed once, looking at you for a moment. 

“Haven’t thought about shit that way in a while,” he said. 

Since you left, he added silently. He didn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it, even though part of him wanted to. Wanted to demand an answer, wanted to yell at you, wanted to cry at you and make you answer for the destruction that you left behind you. Destruction that Joel wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever really recovered from, just found a way to live in the rubble of it all. 

But you were here now, talking with him again. 

“When was the last time we did this?” He asked. 

“Did what?” 

“Talked.” 

You smiled a little. 

“You mean besides the time you decided to yell at me about my romantic choices at my mother’s funeral?” You asked, brows raised. “Been a while.” 

“Since prom?” He asked quietly. 

He watched you clench your jaw before nodding and taking a drink. 

“Since prom.” 

Joel picked at the label on his beer bottle for a moment as you sat with your hands between your knees and looked anywhere but at him. Eventually, you picked up your drink glass again with your left hand and Joel traced your bare ring finger with his eyes. 

“Thinkin’ I might have been right about the romantic choices,” he teased lightly and you frowned before he nodded at your hand. 

“Ah, right,” you said, extending your hand in front of you and running your thumb over the inside of that finger like you would if there was a wedding band there. “Yeah, it turns out going on a book tour when your marriage is on the rocks isn’t the best way to handle things…” 

“Shit,” he shook his head a little. “I’m sorry, Goldie, that…” 

You scoffed. 

“No you’re not,” you put your hand back in your lap. “You hated him. You said all of three words to Gale and you hated him…” 

“OK first of all, his name was fucking Gale,” Joel cut you off. “And second of all, he was a fucking douchebag.” 

You snorted into your beer, coughing and choking on it for a moment and Joel clapped you on the back as you held on to the table, trying to laugh and breathe at the same time. 

“You alright there?” He asked, leaving his palm in the middle of your back. 

“Fine,” you coughed, pounding your chest with your fist. “I’m fine, I just… It’s so funny, but Gale isn’t even his birth name.” 

Joel gaped at you. 

“You’re shitting me,” he said. “That asshole chose the name Gale?” 

You nodded, still coughing and laughing. 

“He did,” you said. “He did, he thought it made it sound him more authorial and academic, he changed it before he started teaching. His birth name is fucking Bradley - his mom still calls him Brad - and I only found out when filling out the marriage license.” 

“What a fuckin’ dick,” Joel laughed, his hand still on you. He was touching you. He hadn’t touched you in so long and he was touching you. “Jesus Christ… Sorry if you’re still hung up on the guy but shit, you can do way better than that.” 

“It’s fine,” you laughed, calming down a bit and nodding to yourself. Joel watched you, uncertain. “Really, it is. I’m not going to pretend like I entirely agree with you but… things look different once you’re outside of the marriage and not in it anymore… Anyway. You married? Kids?” 

“Not married,” Joel said, still not sure how he wanted to tell you about Sarah. If he even should, if the two of you were going to just go your separate ways after tonight and never speak again it felt wrong to share her. “Not even dating, really. At least, nothing steady…” 

You laughed. 

“Christ, why am I not surprised?” You teased. “You always had a way with the ladies. Haven’t outgrown that yet I take it?” 

Joel smiled a little. 

“Why outgrow what’s fun?” 

You smiled a little back. 

“Fair enough,” you said. “Don’t you want that, though? Something stable?” 

“Is anything stable?” He asked. “Shit, half the people we went to school with now are fuckin’ divorced, what difference does it make?” 

“Yeah, I guess I am one to talk,” you said, polishing off your beer. 

Joel winced. 

“Fuck, not what I meant…” 

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. “I just… it didn’t work out and that’s that, right?” 

“Right,” he said, watching you closely for a moment. “Hey, since you’re lookin’ to get hammered and I don’t got shit else to do tonight… shots?” 

You laughed a little. 

“I don’t know that I want to get that hammered,” you said. “I’m not a teenager anymore…” 

“C’mon, Goldie,” he teased. “It’s on me. Plus it was my birthday the other day, gotta do at least one with me for that.” 

“Oh shit,” you said. “It was, wasn’t it? You turned 33 on… Monday? Monday, right?” 

“Right,” he laughed. “So, you in?” 

You laughed a little back. 

“Alright,” you said. “You’ve sold me. But I’ve got the first ones, it was your birthday, after all.” 

The two of you moved to open bar stools on the end of the bar and ordered the first two shots - tequila - and clinked your glasses together before downing them, slamming them down on the bar top when you were done. 

“See?” Joel teased. “You still got it in you.” 

“If you say so,” you coughed a little and then laughed. 

“Another?” He asked. 

You looked at him for a moment. 

“Fuck it,” you said and Joel flagged down Jimmy and ordered another round. 

By the time it was last call, your friend had come over to say goodbye, her lipstick smudged around her lips and the mouth of the man she’d been draped across, and the bar had gotten quiet, just a handful of stragglers left even on a Friday night. 

It took a few shots but you’d given up on keeping any distance from Joel at all, your bar stool sitting against his, your body pressed against his side, your head on his shoulder. 

“Hey Jimmy!” Joel slapped the bar top a few times. The man came over and leaned on the bar, looking at you tucked against Joel. “Think you can get me a cab?” 

“Sure as hell not lettin’ either of you two idiots drive,” he replied, going to get the phone. 

“Hey,” Joel nudged you. “Where… where do you live? Need an address, gonna get you home.” 

You thought for a second and then devolved into half drunk laughter. 

“I don’t know,” your words were slurred. “Oh fuck, I’ve only lived there like… a few… a few… fuck. When did I move?” 

“Before the school year?” He asked. 

“Right,” you nodded. “Prob’ly right, that’s… that’s when. S’not long. I don’t know where it is, oh shit…��� 

“S’OK,” he said, putting an arm around you. “Just… just come home with me, s’fine.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, raising your head slightly. “You… you don’t mind?” 

“Don’t mind, Goldie,” he said gently. “Never mind, not with… not with you.” 

You nodded and dropped your head back to his shoulder. 

Joel had to half carry you to the cab and you dozed off against him on the drive, pressing your warm, soft body against his, passed out enough that you were drooling on the shoulder of Joel’s t-shirt, soaking through to his skin. He didn’t mind. 

“She gonna be alright?” The cab driver asked as Joel paid him and nudged you awake. 

“M’fine,” you waved him off. 

“You know this guy?” The man asked, watching you in the rear view mirror. 

“Him?” You asked, brows raised. “‘Course I know him, this… he’s Joel, he’s my best friend, s’fine.” 

The driver nodded once. 

“Good,” he said. “Take care of her, alright buddy?” 

“Sure,” Joel said, setting you down in the back of the cab. “Always have.” 

He got out and went around to the other door, almost tripping on the curb, before tugging you out of the backseat and against his side. You laughed and then shushed yourself. 

“Sorry,” you tried to whisper but failed. “S’late, I should be quieter….” 

“S’fine,” he slurred. “The neighbors think I’m trash anyway, not gonna ruin my reputation…” 

You snorted at that. 

“Assholes.” 

He helped you up to the front door and fumbled with the lock, the two of you stumbling in. Julie, Sarah’s babysitter, shot up off the couch, a groggy look on her face. 

“Wha?” She blinked for a second. 

You yelped and Joel shushed you.

“Sorry,” you failed at whispering again. “But Joel… there’s a teenager in… you’ve got a teenager on your couch.” 

“Yeah, she does that,” he tried to whisper back. “S’fine. How’d it go, Julie? Everything OK?” 

“All good, Mr. Miller,” she stretched and got up, meeting Joel in the entry way. “She went down at 9:30 after trying to talk me into watching Coyote Ugly…” 

“Oh lord,” Joel sighed. “Last thing she needs is to get it in her head that she should be singin’ and dancin’ on a bar…” 

“Don’t worry, I said no,” she smiled. “But I think one of her friends at school is obsessed with it, not sure how else she’d know about it… Anyway. How about you pay me next week?” 

“Oh shit,” he said, going for his wallet. She laughed. 

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” she said. “Not sure you’d remember paying me right now and I’m even less sure you can count.” 

“Thanks,” he said, grateful. “You drive safe, alright kiddo?” 

“Will do,” she laughed a little. “Night, Mr. Miller. And Mr. Miller’s… friend.” 

“Night!” You said, a little loud before clamping your hand over your mouth and laughing. Once the door was closed, you turned your attention back to him. “Ooooo you’re Mr. Miller now.” 

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ old,” he said, guiding you inside. “Here, I’m gonna put you to bed and then I’ll take the couch…” 

“You absolutely will not,” you snorted. “I’m… I can sleep on the couch, not… not letting you take the couch in your own house. ‘Specially not when you’re old enough to be Mr. Miller.” 

“Goldie…” 

“I will move and sleep on the floor.” 

He sighed and started moving you toward the couch. 

“You ever gonna be less stubborn?” 

“Nope,” you popped your lips on the p as he set you down. He got the blanket Julie had been asleep under and draped it over you as you snuggled into the couch. “Hey Joel?” 

“Hm?” 

“Who was that girl?” You asked, eyes already closed. “Why… why did you have a teenager in your house? This is your house, right?” 

“S’my house,” he said, tucking you in. “And don’t worry ‘bout it. Just go to sleep.” 

You yawned. 

“Thanks, Joel,” your voice was groggy. “For taking care of me. Missed you.” 

He stopped and looked back at you for a moment. 

“Missed you, too.” 

He went to bed, trying not to think of the last time you’d fallen asleep on him. 

***

The Morning After Prom

May, 2008 

The pink and orange of dawn woke you up. You were on Joel’s chest, his shirt unbuttoned so you could feel his skin on yours and your dress was still bunched around your waist from when Joel had slid the straps down your arms the night before. 

You enjoyed it for a moment. The feel of Joel’s skin, how his chest rose and fell with his breaths, how the early morning light caught in the curls that had broken free of the gel you were sure his mom had put in it the night before. He smelled good, like cologne - the kind that a man would wear, not the Axe shit that drenched the hallways of your school - and soap and a hint of sweat that just felt like the essence of him. You wanted to stay like this with him forever. Be this close, know him in this way. It felt right, it felt beyond just good. 

And then you remembered, you weren’t supposed to be here. 

“Joel,” you whispered, sitting up from him and shaking him gently but urgently. “Joel, wake up!” 

“Hm?” He mumbled, groggy, his eyes opening slowly. 

“We fell asleep,” you said, still whispering even though there was no one here to hear you. “We’re not supposed to be up here, we have to go!” 

“Shit,” he blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked you over and you were suddenly fiercely aware of how naked you were, how the light of day was creeping in and casting over your exposed skin. Joel reached out and cupped your cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out…” 

“It’s OK,” you said quickly, clutching your dress over your naked breasts as you slid the straps back on. “But we should get home, we didn’t tell our moms that we were going to be out all night, I’m sure they’re pissed…” 

“It’s prom,” he said. “Think they expected it to be a late one. But… you’re right, we should get going.” 

Joel got up and offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet. It wasn’t until you moved your lower half that you realized how sore you were between your thighs, your skirt falling back down to your feet. Joel held your hand for a moment once you were standing and his skin felt hot against yours. You dropped his hand and cleared your throat awkwardly. 

“You should button your shirt,” you said quietly, nodding to his bare chest. “And… um… Zip up your pants.” 

“Oh,” he looked down. “Um… Right. Right.” 

He moved quickly as you looked over as much of your dress as you could see and Joel used the glass of the press box as a mirror to adjust his hair. 

“Do I look OK?” You asked when he was done, turning so he could see the whole dress. “Not like… not like we….” 

“There’s… um…” he cupped the back of his neck awkwardly. “I think we made a mess of the back of your dress, I didn’t think… should have moved it, I guess…” 

“Shit,” you twisted, trying to spot it. “Do you think…” 

“Just don’t turn your back to your mom,” he said quickly. “Should… should be OK.” 

“Right,” you said. “Yeah, that’s… right. OK.” 

Joel led the way to his car and the two of you sat in silence on the ride home. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his elbow propped on the door of the car, hand on his mouth, his face drawn. 

What were you supposed to do now? You’d never done… this. You’d never been in this position and now you were here with Joel, the person who was your best friend, the person you knew better than anyone else in the world, the person that everything had felt so right with it had been impossible to stop. 

But what did you do now? 

He stopped in your drive way and sat there, staring straight ahead. 

“Thank you,” you said. He looked at you, his eyes a little wide. “For taking me to prom, I mean. It was… I had… It was good. I liked it. It was good.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded after a moment. “Yeah, I’m glad I… got to go with you. To prom.” 

“Right.” 

You looked at him. You wanted to kiss him. Wanted him to hold onto you and tell you that everything was going to be OK and that you were going to figure this out and it would be you and him together just like it always had been. 

Instead, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. 

“I’ve got church this morning,” he said. “And then we’re goin’ to help my grandma in the afternoon so I don’t think I can see you until tomorrow…” 

“I’ve got that doctor’s appointment in the morning,” you said. “So… I guess I’ll just… I’ll see you at school?” 

“Right,” he said. “Yeah, right. I’ll… I’ll see you at school.” 

You smiled tightly at him and leaned in slowly to kiss him on the cheek, hoping that he would turn his head and press his lips to yours the way he had the night before. 

He didn’t. 

“Thanks, Joel.” 

“Yeah.” 

You went inside and got undressed in your bathroom, looking at the stain on your dress, hoping you’d be able to get the stain of your blood and his come out before your mother noticed and it ruined anything else.

Next Chapter

A/N: Eeeeeeee! I'm so excited now that this story is properly going!

I hope you enjoy exploring Joel and Goldie with me. I really love their friendship and the way they care for each other and I think there's so much to explore with the both of them.

I do have an updates blog. Follow it here and subscribe for alerts when I post.

Thank you for being here! It really does mean so much to me to share this story with you. Love you!!

[storiesofsvu]

5 Nights Pt 4

*not my gif* Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: semi public make out, dirty talk and lots of it, smut, v minor daddy kink. pt 4 is finally here! now y'all see why i couldn't have done all of these all together in one fic lol. I'm 99% sure this is the end but i lowkey am already thinking about extending it into a mini series of how things go when they get back to Quantico. so if y'all are interested in something like that, lmk!!

Love Aaron Hotchner? Don't miss out! Taglist here! Like what you read? Tip your writer!🩵

Aaron had had his eye on you all day, barely able to tear his gaze away from you as you worked through mountains of paperwork. His plan the night prior was to get himself off to the thought of finally fucking you and then actually fuck you when you got home from the bar. Problem being that the exhaustion was catching up with him, and you were out later than planned, he was dead to the world by the time you got back to the room. So now he was stuck for the third day in a row fighting off a constant hard on, desperately trying to think of anything but the memories of you trembling in his arms or on your knees with his cock buried between your lips.

He was on his way to get a fresh cup of coffee when he spotted you in an empty, off to the side copy room, using the machine to get extra copies of case files. You’d been running low on clothes, stuck in a skirt today, one that hugged tightly to your hips and ass, leaving little to the imagination, exposing your legs that Aaron wished were wrapped around his head again. He silently shut the door behind himself, you didn’t even realize he was in the room until his hand was on your waist, his breath hot on your ear as he husked into it.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to resist bending you over a desk and fucking you so hard you forget your own name?” His hips ground into your ass and you let out a gasp, his cock very apparent through the fabric, “fuck you so good all you can do is chant my name, let the whole building know just who it is that’s making you feel so fucking good. Make you scream so fucking loud when that tight little pussy squirts all over my cock, just love the way you make a mess sweetheart, love watching you fall apart on my cock. Wanna pull out of you, watch your juices drip down your thighs before I come all over your face, shove my dick into that mouth of yours, watch you choke on it.”

You instinctively ground back towards him, letting out a little moan at the way his dick twitched. Your hand shot out behind you, wrapping up to tangle in his short locks, “Hotch…” you practically moaned, complete putty in his hands. All thoughts of the work place and task at hand completely forgotten as his hands began to roam your body, groping at your chest, fingers pinching your nipples through your clothes. You let out a whimper, feeling yourself begin to flutter around nothing, the pulsing in your pussy simply begging to be filled with Aaron’s cock, wetness growing with each time he rutted against you.

“I’m gonna absolute ruin you.” He growled, a hand cupping at your pussy through your skirt, “no one’s ever going to be able to fuck you like I can.”

“Aaaron…” you groaned softly, tugging at his hair.

Within a second he had you whipped around, pinning you to the counter behind you and his lips were on yours. You let out a gasp into the kiss, your entire body tingling at the feeling of his kiss, the way his tongue easily slunk into your mouth, dominating the entire situation even more. He slotted himself between your legs, a hand sneaking between your ass and the counter, squeezing at your body as he hoisted you onto the ledge. You instantly wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirt bunching around your waist as he rolled his hips into you, his cock rubbing right against your clothed pussy and you moaned. His teeth sunk into your lip, pulling it before letting it snap back to your mouth, he considered leaving a hickey on your neck but couldn’t resist plunging back into another kiss, never wanting to have to surface again, eager to completely devour you.

It wasn’t until his phone blared through the room that the two of you came hurtling back to earth and to your senses, jolting apart breathlessly. Hotch hissed, adjusting himself in his pants with one hand while the other dug his phone out of his back pocket to answer, turning his back on you in an attempt to focus. Chest heaving, you slid off the counter, fixing your blouse and straightening your skirt while you tried to calm the fire shooting through your body. Thankful for the mirror in the corner you were able to wipe off the smudged lipstick, take a minute to make sure your hair wasn’t too messed up before you grabbed the copies and originals from the photocopier, vanishing from the room as Aaron swapped back into work mode.

*

The door to the hotel room was barely shut much less locked by the time Hotch was pouncing on you, hands shoving your blazer to the floor before roughly tugging at his tie while his tongue plunged into your mouth. Clothes trailed their way through the hotel room until your back hit the wall, a gasp escaping your lips at the cool temperature on your bare back. Aaron’s lips traced the column of your neck, pulling moans from you as he began to suck at your pulse point, groaning over the taste of your skin. Your hands slunk between your bodies, palming at him through his boxers, he was already hard, pre-cum staining the front of the fabric. His hands wound around your body, pulling you tight to him as he squeezed at your ass, fingers daring to sneak between your legs from behind, brushing at your clothed pussy.

“Aaron… please..” you whined, letting out a quiet yelp when his teeth sunk into your skin, determined to leave you with a mark that claimed you as his. Your fingers tugged at his boxers, yanking them as far down as you could while he was attached to your neck, “need your cock. Now.”

“Fuck..”

You felt him twitch in your hand when you said it, letting out a breathy moan as your hand wrapped around his length. Within the next second his hands were ripping your panties off, shreds of fabric falling to the floor and you let out a louder moan when his fingers ran through your pussy lips.

“God,” he groaned, “have you been this wet all day?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, rutting your hips toward him in search of what you wanted, “need you. Fuck me, please sir.”

Aaron finally pulled himself away from the crook of your neck, wrapping a hand around his cock, running the tip of it through your folds, smearing your juices down his length. He watched the way you shivered at the contact, another whine leaving your lips before he spanked your clit with his cock and you gasped, body jolting off the wall toward him. With one swift thrust he was buried inside you, body tight against yours as he pinned you to the wall and you both let out satisfied moans.

“Fuck…” he grunted, “you feel so good.”

“Move…” you begged and that was all it took for Aaron to grab your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he began to pull almost all the way out before sinking all the way back in. “Oh god.”

Your head dropped back against the wall, each pump of his cock hit every inch of you that you needed, little whimpers and moans leaving your lips every time he pressed you into the wall. Your arms wound around his shoulders, bracing yourself up as he picked up the pace, burying his face into the crook of your neck again. You could feel the slick building between your legs, fully coating him, your pussy fluttering around his cock and he swore.

“Fuck…” he panted, “squeezing me so tight already.”

“Harder. Please.” Aaron stepped back from the wall for a moment, bracing his feet differently before thrusting even deeper into you, pinning you to the wall and you cried out in pleasure. “Oh fuck! Yes! Oh god…”

A shimmer of sweat was breaking out on your body as your hands clawed at his shoulders, nails leaving half circle indents on his skin. Each thrust of his hips crashed you into the wall, the pain worth it for the pleasure, his body rubbing against your clit, fire prickling under your skin as you clenched down around him.

“Feel good?” He asked, finally pulling his face from your neck, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as you nodded, whining out the best ‘yes’ you could in that moment. Your thighs began to squeeze around his waist, your breath hot on his lips as your chest heaved, eyes fluttering shut and he could feel your cunt dripping and pulsing around him, “you gonna come for me sweetheart?” A hand slid up your body, roughly cupping at your chest, finger and thumb pinching at one nipple and then the next, rolling the swollen buds between his fingertips. “Be a good girl and come all over daddy’s cock.” Aaron husked into your ear, biting at your earlobe and your eyes shot open at the use of the title.

“Oh god!” Your body trembled, pussy clenching down around his cock as your peak washed over you, juices dribbling out where your bodies were connected, drenching Aaron’s thighs as he continued to pound into you.

“That’s it.” He cooed, “that’s my good girl.” His arms wound around you tightly as he pulled you off the wall, cock still buried deep in your cunt as he carried you over to the bed. Your lips were peppering kisses to the side of his neck, teeth scraping gently at the skin as you let out little whimpers, pussy still fluttering around him as you shivered. Before he had a chance to put you down on the bed you let out a little whine,

“Wanna ride you.”

“Alright.” He chuckled, slipping out of you and dropping down onto the bed, bracing himself up against the headboard as you scrambled up the bed to straddle him. His eyes flicked behind you to the full length mirror, the one he’d fingered you in front of days ago, “wait.” You stalled in your movements, “turn around.”

“But—”

“Turn. Around.”

His finger twirled and once your eyes met his through the mirror you understood why, a small smirk on your lips as you straddled his hips, hand wrapping around his cock. You trailed it through your folds, rocking up and down as you pressed his cock against your pussy, grinding up and down his length as your juices made even more of a mess before you finally lined it up and sunk all the way down onto him.

“Fuck…” you moaned, biting your lip, “love your cock.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a wicked grin, hands coming up to rest on your waist, giving you a soft squeeze, “love it buried in that tight little cunt?” A hand spanked at the globe of your ass, “you like it when I fuck you nice and deep?”

“Mmhmm?” You nodded, gasping when he spanked you again.

“Well then why don’t you get goin’? Put on a nice little show for me, let’s see how gorgeous you are riding my cock.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement, bracing on your knees as you rose up until only the head of his cock was inside you, starting a steady rhythm bouncing in his lap. Aaron groaned at the sight of your tits bouncing in the mirror, the way your eyes fluttered shut and your hands roamed your body as you rode him. Each time you came down his cock fully disappeared into your pussy, throbbing and twitching inside you, feeling the way your walls were pulsing around him. He would never get enough of this sight and he knew it, trying to memorize every inch of your body through the mirror as he squeezed at your ass with one hand, the other on your waist, guiding you up and down. His hips suddenly thrust upward and you let out a little squeak in surprise, your eyes shooting open,

“Touch yourself.” He grunted, “want you to come again before I do.”

“Yes sir.” You nodded, keeping eye contact through the mirror as you sucked two fingers into your mouth while you continued to ride him. Your fingers left a trail of spit down your body as your hand sunk lower until they hit the swollen nub, pulsing and aching to be touched, “oh fuck…” your head dropped back as your began to rub your clit.

“Harder.” Hotch urged, hands gripping your waist tighter, “faster.”

You complied, pushing harder as your hand began to move faster, bouncing quicker in his lap and you began to pant, your chest heaving as pleasure prickled under your skin. All that could be heard in the room were the sounds of skin on skin, wet sounds squelching from your pussy as your moans got louder and louder. Hotch could feel your cunt squeezing down tighter and tighter with each thrust of his cock and he knew you weren’t far off.

“Oh god daddy…” You moaned.

“That’s it sweetheart.” He grunted, bracing a foot on the bed to thrust more powerfully into you, earning a loud moan from you as he did so, “show me how pretty you are when you come for me. Just for me.”

You let out a cry, your body surging forward as pleasure skyrocketed through you, your entire being shaking as you squirted all over his cock. You tensed up, hands braced against the bed in front of you before you screamed out a moan, a third orgasm coursing through you. You barely had time to feel the wetness dripping down your thighs before Aaron shoved you forward so he could get on his knees behind you, his cock never once leaving your drenched cunt and then he was fucking you into the mattress.

“God.. listen to you..” He moaned, “just fucking wrecked.”  Your fingers clawed at the bedspread, pussy throbbing around him, clit harshly rubbing against the bedspread, whines leaving your lips as you began to reach the stage of overstimulation. “Just a little cock slut, aren’t you?”

“Only for… you…” you moaned out, voice muffled by the duvet.

“Good girl.” He grunted with a particularly deep thrust and your thighs shook, “gonna make me come.” He could feel his lower stomach tightening, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Give it to me.” You cried out, “want your cum.”

“Fuck.” He hissed, his hips faltering and then stilling buried deep inside your cunt, cum spurting into you, coating your walls.

“Oh god…” You groaned at the sensation, finally letting your body fully collapse into the mattress.

Panting, Aaron gently dropped over you, caging you into the bed, one hand softly soothing up and down your side as he pressed a series of kisses across your shoulders, “you okay?”

“Phenomenal.” You mumbled back, earning a chuckle from him before he kissed the back of your neck, gently slipping out of you to collapse on his back beside you on the bed. You rolled your head toward him, shifting slightly, happily sighing at the feel of the cum mixture leaking down your thighs, “but if it takes another fucking four days for that to happen again, I will not be impressed.”

“All I need is four minutes.” He smirked back at you, “besides, there’s plenty of ways I can get you off that don’t even need my cock.” You let out a yelp when his hand slid between your legs, softly fucking the cum back into your cunt, “see?” He asked with a near evil grin and you laughed, letting him wrap his free arm around your waist, lips meeting yours in a lazy kiss as he continued to toy with you.

You had to admit, even if you did have to wait another four days, you knew it would be completely worth it in the end.

__________________________

@alexusonfire @svushots @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @thehauntingofbasingse @plaidbooks @the-hopeless-haze @niyizh @ababanana @tommyriddleobsessed @supercriminalbean @hotchs-bitch @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @emlynblack @ivyflowers13 @ratsnestinmyhair @silversprings-mp3 @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz @ssaaaronhotchnerr @itsrainingreid @speedynana

[cellophaine]

Pretty Face

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Face-fucking – rough oral (m. receiving), manhandling, sexual gratification from being used, cum play, cum eating.

Author's Note: TITTIES!!! On top of a medieval time washboard!!!

GIF Credit: found on @acecroft

He was needy tonight. The way he handled you was rougher than usual, with little foreplay, and even though it hurt at first, the pain eventually became an immeasurable pleasure. Your cock-drunk mind thought he could be rougher. After your third orgasm, Matt pushed you onto your knees before you could gain control of the trembling in your body, forcing you to take his cock in your mouth. You were wrung out and exhausted, but you had no complaints. You loved it when Matt used you as he wished. The lust exuded from his desperate and hastened acts made you feel like he needed it.

Your head bobbed up and down on his cock, revelling in the taste of your cum on his hard length. Your movements grew sloppy as his obscene moans from above your head urged you to keep going. You hollowed your mouth, following the contour of his thick girth, drawing another desperate whimper from him. The sound of him tightened the knot in your belly, the one he had just unravelled moments before, befouling the sticky mess on your puffy folds. The old and new wetness became one and trickled down your thighs, making your skin clammy and uncomfortable. But you wouldn’t trade it for anything else, for you fed on his pleasure just as much as he did with yours.

Your mouth ached from the vigorous exertion, working as if you were trying to swallow his shaft. Feeling overwhelmed and disobedient, your tongue slowly drew back as it swivelled along his cock until you reached the tip, teasing the mushroom head with kitten licks. Matt didn’t like that, and his hand swiftly came down onto your left cheek, leaving a slight sting as a warning. You whined, feeling a little deflated as he caught onto your harmless intention at being catty.

“Be nice.”

His command was deep, gravelly and just slightly breathless as if it took a lot for him to even form a coherent thought. Matt was close, you knew it, and the impulse to taunt him quickly evaporated from your mind. You tried to take him further each time you went down, but it was almost impossible with the fullness that already occupied your mouth. Even though your hands alternatively made up for the rest, it didn’t stop you from trying. You inched down onto his cock slowly and steadily, brushing off the impending gag reflex, until your nose nudged his pelvis, tickled by the subtle patch of hair. The tip of his cock hit your throat, and you forced yourself to hold it there for a moment, resisting the urge to gag. You felt the tears gather in your eyes and tried to breathe through your nose, even though your air intake was slightly restricted. You shook your head slightly, nuzzling deeper into him, feeling the velvety tip petting the back of your throat. His obscene moans and broken cries kept you there until you couldn’t take it anymore and gagged, sloppily pulling away from him. A string of saliva connected your lips and his cock as you dazedly gawked at it through your watery eyes. His length was coated in your spit, and the shiny substance dripped down to his tightening sack. You didn’t waste a second using it as lube, spreading it evenly with your hand, squeezing his shaft to keep him going. You dared a glance above, and the sight made your cunt clench around nothing. With his head thrown back, not so far that you couldn’t see the contortion of pleasure on his face. His brows furrowed, his eyes fluttered close, and his mouth slacked open to pour more honeyed moans into the thickened atmosphere. You wrapped your lips around him again, increasing your pace as Matt’s praises caressed your ears as if you were sharing a tender, intimate moment. Intimate, it was, but there was nothing tender about what he would do next.

His hands came down to grab either side of your face, locking your head in a firm grip before the sweet torment started. Matt pulled you down onto his length, making you go deeper and deeper. His handling was rough and fast, and you could barely keep up with it. Your body went slack as you surrendered your control to him entirely. Matt fucked your face relentlessly, making you feel lightheaded at his brutal use. You tried your best to tip him over the edge by fondling his balls with your fingers, gently pulling on the sensitive skin. The sounds of your gag and his moans drowned out everything else. You were a mess as you struggled for air; tears fell freely onto your cheeks, spit dripped onto your chin and neck, making a mess on your heaving chest. All you could do was keep your mouth open and choke on his cock, your mind emptied of thoughts. You were tethering on the edge of consciousness when Matt abruptly pulled out, giving himself a few pumps before releasing ropes of cum onto your face with a broken shout of relief. Your face was held in place to bear the milkiness of his seeds, and you felt like you had lost your vision for a moment. You blinked in an attempt to clear the fog, but your right eyelid felt heavy and sticky. Your face felt warm, with his essence running down the contour of your features. Some trickled into your mouth, and you eagerly licked them up and swallowed, moaning at the taste. You closed your eyes when his hand found your face, smearing the hot fluid to make it messier. Matt wiped away the heavy droplets from your eye, and you could see better when he trailed to another part of your face. Your skin was the canvas to his paints of tears, saliva and cum, and his fingers were only finishing up the masterpiece.

When he was finally satisfied with his handiwork, Matt brought his cum-stained fingers to your mouth, prying your lips open and wordlessly plunging in. You sucked on his fingers like the good girl you were, taking everything he gave you. He pulled away once you licked them clean, his thumb on your jawline softly caressing. Matt didn’t need to say anything; his loving gesture did it for him, and you knew his language too well for you, sometimes, articulated in the same way.

Matt pulled you onto your shaky feet, holding onto your waist to hold you up before crashing his lips against yours. He loved how the stickiness on your skin started to smear onto his, how he could taste himself on your tongue, how well you wore his mark, and he groaned in the filthy gratification. Matt kissed you until neither of you could breathe, until you must part for a desperate need of air. He pulled you into his embrace, nudging your head to rest on his naked chest as you basked in the peaceful silence until your joined rhythm of heartbeats calmed down.

*Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!*