#this one also features ME because. self indulgence.

[msnmnt]

The Morning After | Mason Mount

pic from pinterest 🩶

A/N: I like to think this is in the same universe as my other fics, taking place between Lay Your Love On Me and Teach You, but I think it’s also fine to be read on it’s own.

Summary: Contains smut! Taking place the morning after Mase takes y/n’s virginity, there’s lots of fluff for the aftermath the morning after. Then… Mason wants to make her feel good once more. 😏 Enjoy! 💗 (ps sorry for the unoriginal title, I need to work on that 😅)

- - - - -

Your eyes fluttered open, slowly blinking as you adjusted to the dim room, lit only by the daylight that was seeping through the light grey curtains that you didn’t completely recognise.

It took you a few moments to properly wake up, but soon the memories from the previous night were flooding back to you. They were Mason’s curtains, and you were tucked up in Mason’s bed.

You gradually remembered the events from the previous evening and how it had ended with Mason being his usual total sweetheart self, not wanting you to move and cleaning you up with a wet cloth and towel so you could stay comfy in his bed. You recalled how your cheeks had flushed a crimson colour as he wiped between your legs, catching his attention when you winced slightly at the sensation of the cold water on the area which was so sensitive. Mason’s head had jolted to look at you, his heart dropping at the little whimper that left your mouth. You had had to reassure him that you were okay, just a little sensitive, and he had continued cleaning you up.

Mason had gone on to dress you in one of his tops that he knew you loved, and the pair of you had snuggled down, limbs tangled as you indulged in some pillow talk. But if Mason was honest, he had barely taken in what you were saying, far too enamoured by the glow on your face that he was sure had only appeared after he had made love to you. He could feel himself falling more and more in love with you as he listened to you quietly ramble on about not much, softly blinking as his eyes fixated on your features, the way they were so perfect to him.

You couldn’t quite remember falling asleep, but you did remember how the evening had ended with Mason cuddled up behind you, his arms looped around your waist as he held your body against his, telling you how good you did for him and how in love with you he was.

You didn’t have chance to register that Mason’s arms were no longer caging you in, far too caught up in your thoughts as your tummy buckled at just how perfect your caring boyfriend had made the previous night. You couldn’t have asked for anything more. Well, that was what you thought, till you noticed Mason wander through his bedroom floor, dressed in nothing but a pair of grey jogging bottoms that sat dangerously low on his hips.

He tried his best to tip toe in, his hands gripping tightly onto a tray filled with two croissants and two glasses of fresh orange juice.

You couldn’t fight back the smile on your face as you sat up in bed. When Mason noticed you were awake, he tutted in disappointment before carefully placing the tray onto the bed.

“Why’re you awake?” Mason asked, unreasonably annoyed that he hadn’t got the chance to wake you up with breakfast in bed like he had planned out in his head.

“Because you have the thinnest curtains known to man.” You chuckled, looking over at the thin bits of fabric which were now doing little to hold back the sunlight. “Seriously, you can tell you haven’t had a woman’s touch around this place.” You rubbed at your sleepy eyes before scanning the room. His furniture was nice and the room was modern, but you could tell none of it had really been given much thought.

“You can give it your touch all you want, baby.” Mason climbed onto the bed, slipping himself back under the covers. “I’m serious, you can do whatever you want to it.” Mason cupped your face in his hand, his eyes looking over the sleepy but lovey look on your face, matching his.

He lent in, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss. His other hand slipped to go under the shirt of his that you were wearing, holding your hip as he licked at your bottom lip. You gladly opened up to allow his tongue to slip in, the minty taste of his toothpaste making your mouth tingle.

Mason’s kisses got hungrier and your lips turned up into a grin as you pulled away, your gaze snapping down to the bedding and noticing that Mason’s sudden movements had jolted the tray, causing the juice to spill over the top of the glass.

Mason shrugged his shoulders, bringing his face back to yours, and you giggled at how keen he was.

“Mase, baby.” You laughed as he looked on innocently, completely smitten and just wanting to show you love. “Be careful, you’re going to get the bedding all wet.”

Mason gave you a look and raised his eyebrows, and you just rolled your eyes at his childness.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

Mason settled down next to you and you shared the pastries, making quick work of eating them all. You sat in mostly a comfortable silence and you couldn’t help but beam at how natural the domestic setting had you feeling.

As you ate, Mason kept a hand on your thigh, lightly stroking as he just wanted to keep his hands on your soft skin at all times.

Once you had finished the pastries and juice, Mason put the tray to one side before reaching his arm out and tapping his bare chest. You felt your tummy flutter as you shifted yourself over to allow his body to envelope yours, his hand coming to grip at your arm as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead, the softness making you nuzzle your head into him.

“How’re you feeling this morning, angel?” Mason asked before planting one more kiss to your hair, grabbing one of your hands in his and intertwining them in his lap.

“I feel good.” You turned to look up at him, his honey eyes staring back into yours with a look of love and adoration. “Really good, actually.” You smiled and Mason’s heart thudded at how genuinely happy you looked. He was so glad he had managed to relax you and make the night memorable for you as well, for all the right reasons.

Something about the way he was looking at you with such softness and care as well paired with the thoughts back to last night seemed to enlighten something in you and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together.

You pulled your hand from Mason’s and he furrowed his brows in confusion before watching as you bought it to his bare chest, ever so slightly tracing your nails across his chest and running them all the way down to the tops of his jogging bottoms. A little giggle left Mason and you were sure it was the sweetest sound you had ever heard, deciding to continue dragging your nails across his chest in random patterns, up and down, diagonal and across, as he watched on, small sighs leaving his parted lips at the sensation.

After a few minutes, you finally convinced yourself to be brave and you lightly grazed your hand over his crotch, noticing the faint outline of his cock as it was clear he was not wearing boxers.

Mason let his eyes fall shut as he took in a few breaths, your hand brushing over his hardening cock. Finally he convinced himself to reach down and gently grab your wrist in his hand, stopping your movements.

“What’re you doing, baby?” Mason asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

You shrugged, trying your best to mask how nervous you were at trying to make the first move. You don’t want to, but seeing Mase sat there all shirtless and sexy, the heat was pooling in your stomach, and you had to do something about it.

“I just thought I could maybe - maybe touch you. Try and make you come with my hand.” You admitted shyly and Mason felt his cock twitch at your words. He tried his best to compose himself, shaking his head.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed so you were laying flat, coming to hover above you. Mason cupped your cheek, his thumb lightly stroking at your soft skin.

“Absolutely not baby.” He begun to scatter soft kisses to your neck, feeling pleased with himself when he noticed the small but purple mark behind your ear that he had left last night, gently soothing the skin with his tongue. “My girl deserves the best.” He cupped your cheek, his thumb lightly stroking at your soft skin. “Anyway, what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I let you do that before I’ve gone down on you?” His breath fanned over your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You crooked your neck down, your face warming at his words and the feel of his breath on you. His warm skin on yours. His sweet words filling you with complete joy.

Mason scattered little kisses all over your face, his hands wandering down the curves of your body. He slipped your top (his) top up your body till your midriff was exposed and he begun to plant sloppy kisses to your skin, his lips dangerously close to where you really wanted them.

“Mase…” Your couldn’t help him name from falling from your lips, your heat pulsing.

“Yeah, baby?” He asked smuggly before scootching down the bed a little more so he could scatter wet, open mouth kisses to the insides of your thighs, purposely avoiding going where you really wanted him as your hips twitched up slightly, making Mason chuckle.

“Please…” Your voice was laced with desperation but Mason was feeling cheeky, loving having you so desperate for him.

Mason moved his mouth over your mound, his breath hitting your core. You squirmed once more and Mason bought his hands to grip at your hips.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” His lips pressed a kiss to your centre and a whimper fell from your lips, music to Mason’s ears.

You looked down and the sight of Mason’s head between your legs made you go crazy. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, finding it difficult to hold yourself together.

His hands played with the sides of your knickers and he looked up at you, feeling smug as your eyes were glazed over, completely fixated on him and what he was doing.

He pulled them down your legs, his eyes falling straight to your pussy, his cock twitching.

“Gonna be a good girl for me, huh?”

You whimpered at his words and Mason huffed smugly, finally giving what you wanted and planting a single kiss to your clit.

He pulled away again, dragging the tip of his finger slowly up your slit, watching on as you squirmed under his touch.

Mason took in the sight of how wet your folds were, and he couldn’t wait to ruin you.

He ducked his head down to blow on your most sensitive area, smirking when he saw your entire body twitch at the sensation. He used his fingers to part your lips slightly, groaning as you pulsed around nothing, whimpering slightly in desperation.

Mason left kitten licks all around your slit, gasps leaving your mouth as you felt him so close to where you were so desperate for him. Finally Mason’s tongue licked a stripe to your clit, and you let out a strangled mix between a gasp and a moan, your whole body relaxing and sinking into the mattress beneath you.

You reached your hands down to tangle into his hair as his tongue continue to perfectly work your nub, swirling round in circles. You lightly tugged at Mason’s hair and he moaned in response, the sound vibrating through your core.

The sweet sounds falling from your lips as his tongue worked you to perfection had Mason repositioning himself between your legs so his lower body came into contact with the bed beneath him, allowing him to shamelessly rut his hips into the soft mattress, relieving some of the pressure he was feeling.

Mason bumped his nose to your clit and you brought your hand to the nape of his neck, softly playing with the hair there as his tongue swiped over your slick folds. Your hips jolted slightly and your pussy rubbed against his nose once more, eliciting the sweetest of moans from your lips, causing Mason to moan, muffled into your heat.

He pulled away before using his thumb to mimic the previous movements of his tongue, the perfect circles making you throw your head back against the pillows below you.

Mason slowly sunk one finger into you, intently focused on your face to make sure you weren’t in any kind of pain. He curled his finger and as it brushed against the spongey part, he felt you clench around him, your nails seeping into the skin at his neck.

He whined as his lips stayed attached to your clit, licking and gently suckling as he straightened out the finger he had buried deep in you before curling it to graze against your g-spot. You were in complete bliss, a mixture of whimpers and moans leaving your parted lips as you watched him work your body so sweetly.

Mason slipped a second finger in, sliding in so easily with how wet he had got you. He was quick to find the same rhythm as before, his fingers curling at the perfect angle as he expertly fucked you with them.

The pleasure was piling in your tummy and your thighs were shaking, threatening to close around his head. Mason used his free hand to press into the soft flesh of your thigh, pinning you down.

You could feel your high approaching and you wanted nothing more than for Mason to carry on just what he was doing, so when he pulled his mouth away you let out a strangled groan in dismay. Mason smirked to himself as he watched on as you writhed beneath him, his fingers still inside of you as you looked up at him, eyes wide and confused as you stuck out your bottom lip at the loss of contact.

You were taken by surprise when you felt Mason spit onto your clit, his fingers slipping out of you to messily spread his salvia on your pussy.

“Fuck, Mason…” You moaned, knowing you wouldn’t last much longer. Your thighs involuntary tried to close around his head once more, and he dug his fingers into your skin harder, sure to leave fingerprints as he pinned your thigh back to give his the access he needed.

He slipped two fingers back into you, pumping and curling them to brush perfectly against your g-spot as his tongue swirled your now overly sensitive clit.

“Mase.” A strangled moan slipped from your lips as you struggled to compose yourself any longer. “I don’t think - I feel like I’m gonna - oh.”

The noise that fell from your lips only spurred him on more. He removed his hand from your hip and placed it flat on your stomach, pressing down slightly. Mason was certain he could feel his own fingers as they curved inside of you, the feeling making him groan into your core.

“Masey, baby-“

“It’s okay, princess.” Mason mumbled into your pussy, focused on keeping his movements exactly the same, wanting nothing more than to bring you to your high now. “Let go for me, angel. Come all over my tongue.” He reattached his lips to your clit, gently sucking and licking as he felt your pussy tightly grasp around his fingers.

A uncontrollable sob fell from your lips as your thighs tightened around him, allowing the blissful feeling to completely take over your body. You pulled at his hair a little harder than you probably should’ve as his fingers and tongue made you see stars, and he groaned into your core.

Once you both managed to calm your breathing, Mason gently slipped his fingers out, trying his best to compose himself.

You tried your best to open your eyes but you couldn’t help them from falling shut as you took some breaths, attempting to bring yourself back fo reality.

Mason surfaced from between your legs, a massive grin across his face as your chest raised up and down rapidly. His lips were glistening and you felt yourself blush at the mess you made on his face, but Mason was completely shameless. He held your face and kissed you softly and tenderly before slipping his tongue into your mouth, the taste of yourself on him making you pull away shyly.

”I’ll be back in 5 minutes, I just need to have a shower real quick.” Mason said before planting a final quick kiss to your lips, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart twinge in disappointment at him leaving you already, even if it was just for 5 minutes.

“Oh.” You mumbled out disappointed, which Mason picked up on straight away.

“Sorry angel, it’s just - I’ve made a bit of a mess in my pants.” He trailed off, nuzzling his face into your neck in embarrassment.

Your eyes widened and you raised your eyebrows. “You… you came in your pants?” You questioned, a little unsure till you felt Mason nod into your neck.

He pulled back up to look at you, his face reddening. “I couldn’t help it. The noises you were making and how you were tugging my hair just made me so fucking hard, baby.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t help but feel pleased with yourself, your confidence increasing more and more. “Maybe I could… join you in the shower?” You asked hopefully. “I guess I need to clean up too.”

Mason grinned, grabbing your hand and leading the way into his en-suite where the pair of you basked in the warm water, the shower full of nothing more than lots of sweet touches and soft kisses as you washed each other clean.

- - - - -

[velvetwyrme]

Papselfship Week // Prompt: Kabedon

@selfshipperapproved

..... an attempt was made?

[angelatsumu]

thinking of husband!simon who can't get enough of making you cum. nsfw under the cut. | husband!simon, overstimulation (kinda), fingering

“surely you can give me another, lovie” your husband taunts you, eyes peering at your reflection in the mirror. he’s got your legs spread for him, trapped under his own legs as his fingers—middle and ring—find themselves curled deep within your cunt. he’s smirking at you teasingly while your head’s rested against his shoulder. normally he hates when your eyes break contact with his, but today he allows your brief reprieve from his gaze because he’s feeling generous. truthfully speaking, he knows he’ll be asking for ‘just one more’ at least two more times before you’re boneless before him. your lover curls his fingers along the spongy cushion buried within your walls, prodding the soft material with a coy grin splayed across his features. his eyes are sharp as he watches your hips wriggle against the assault in a weak attempt to free yourself. he’s feeling generous, so he lets that silly little action go unpunished. he figures he’ll tax you for each offense; give him one more for his troubles, sweet girl. you whine at the intoxicating thrusts of his digits against you, body overheating as the coil within your abdomen winds tight. the sounds of your squelching cunt makes your cheeks heat with embarrassment, only worsened with the teasing lilt of your husband’s filthy words in your ear. “doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. ‘s almost too much isn’t it, baby?” he sounds like pure sin, panting as though the sheer feel of your cunt squeezing his fingers would do him in. you both know it would; your lover could cum with the sheer feel of your cunt spasming around his tongue, let alone his fingers. he’s hard against your ass, and each wiggle and writhe of your sweet hips making him grunt deeply against your skin. the tightening in your cunt alongside the soft moans of his name let your lover know you’re so close to the edge, so close that you can practically already taste it. he knows, and he makes sure you reach that peak quicker by circling your hard, throbbing clit with his thumb. “oh, sweet girl,” your husband coos at you as your orgasms crests, leaving you trembling in his grasp. Simon’s a bit cruel with the way he thrusts his fingers harder against that sweet spot while spewing filthily in your ear. it’s too much, always too much when he’s this sexy and all yours before him. as you ride out your orgasm, he coaxes you into rocking your hips against his thick fingers. “ride my hand baby, watch yourself ride my fuckin’ hand,” he moans in your ear, free hand gripping your jaw and forcing your gaze to your reflection in the mirror. the sight is enough to have your cunt squeezing his fingers so tight he could barely move, huffs and whines slipping from your pretty lips while he continues his assault on your overstimulated cunt. “please, Si” you whimper with warmed cheeks, eyes pleadingly looking into his own. he lets out a gruff groan, relishing in the tears that speckle your lash line. “just one more,”he lies to you, and you whimper softly knowing it’d be far more than one before you were done.

a/n: rbs + likes greatly appreciated. also, taking requests. also also, if you'd like the insanely long (and kinda fanon/self-indulgent) oneshot i wrote for halloween!simon, lmk

[hyunjining]

Stray Kids Hyunjin & His Love of Queer Media 🏳️‍🌈

This is just a little self-indulgent post to show appreciation for Hyunjin’s consistent support for queer artists and their work because it makes my heart happy. If you would like to give this post some love on Twitter too, I would really appreciate it!

~~~

During an interview in 2018, Hyunjin revealed the items in his school bag, one of which was the feminist short story collection Someone Harmless to Me by Choi Eunyoung (title translation may vary), which features a lesbian love story.

Book Description:

Hyunjin also recommended To The Warm Horizon by Choi Jinyoung, a post-apocalyptic novel featuring a love story between two women (May 2024).

Book Summary:

An interview with Choi Jinyoung about the queer/lesbian themes in the book:

In an interview with Bugs, Hyunjin recommended the song “1-800-273-8255” by Logic and its music video, which features a gay man struggling with and then ultimately accepting his sexuality. He remarked that the video was hopeful and could make viewers cry (March 2018).

Music Video Description:

Hyunjin is a fan of Troye Sivan, whose songs (such as “Youth” and “for him.”) he has sung on live and at concerts, as well as during monthly evaluations as a trainee. They met in May 2023 and Hyunjin ended up as a feat. on the remix of “Rush,” a song about gay party culture and intimacy.

Hyunjin is a fan of Frank Ocean, a bisexual man. He has been heard on live whistling “Thinkin’ Bout You,” a song Frank wrote about another man (February 2024).

Hyunjin recommended “Sweet” by Bren Joy, a queer man, and met him after attending his concert soon after (April - August 2024).

About Bren Joy:

When asked what artist he’s been listening to lately (August 2024), Hyunjin replied with a line from Green Day’s song “Bobby Sox,” written by bisexual lead singer Billie Joe Armstrong. The lyrics say both “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” and “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

About Billie Joe Armstrong and Bobby Sox:

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading!!!

[gyuscoquetteribbon]

^᪲᪲᪲ kisses from all the way across the universe

SYNOPSIS: it was a popular notion that the moles on one's skin are places where their lover in the past had kissed them. but, you thought otherwise.

PAIRING: mingyu x gn!reader

GENRE: fluff, established relationship

WORD COUNT: 900+

notes: npr !! another self indulgent piece because im sad that i don't have a pretty lil partner whose moles i could kiss :( but also i was supposed to post this on mingyu's bday or a little after 😭 also as i was writing this i realized just how much i didn't like how it turned out like i could personally do better than that 😞

also requests are open so you can send in requests if you have any (it doesn't necessarily have to be fluff !) 🥹🥹

it was the evening after mingyu's birthday. the room had a dull glow to it, the only source of light being the night lamp shining bright by the bedside table. you were not only engulfed by your boyfriend's buff figure, but also silence, save for mingyu's soft breathing falling against your chest.

the rest of the day up until now was a slow blur, where the two of you took a nap for the majority of the day, curled up against one another, arms and limbs tangled as though you both were one body instead of two.

mingyu had his head pressed against your chest. he was awake, but he had his eyes closed as he reveled in the feeling of your fingernails gently scraping against his scalp. you look down at him, a fond smile painting your slightly chapped lips. mingyu looked peaceful; content.

you lean down to press a kiss against the mole on the side of his jaw. you loved mingyu's moles. sometimes, when he'd lay in bed without wearing a shirt, you'd take your time, mapping out the moles on his honey-colored skin like astrologers mapping out stars in the sky.

when there's new ones on his skin, you'd excitedly point it out, leaving a gentle kiss behind.

a soft chuckle escapes mingyu's lips. his eyes open and he looks up at you, gleaming with fondness. "back at it again?" he asks, referring to your habit of kissing his moles.

you smile at him, your eyes turning into little crescents, "they always stand out, it's not my fault," you shrug and to reiterate your point, you lean down to peck the tip of his nose.

mingyu pulls away from you. with a gentle dip on his side of the bed mingyu holds himself up by his elbows. "do you think you were my lover in my past life too?" he asks.

a soft chuckle leaves your lips as you rech forward to brush his cheek with the pad of your thumb. "is it because of the moles?"

he gives a nod, eager to hear your answer as he leans in to your touch. you hum softly as you search for an answer in your head before you meet his expectant eyes again. "i don't know about that, really," you reply, honestly, "i'd hope so, though. But, i surely don't think your moles are marks left behind by your previous lover's kisses."

"is that so?" mingyu

you nod slowly before shifting in your place so that you're on your side with your elbow pressed against the mattress and your hand cradling your head, pretty much mirroring mingyu.

"i think," you begin, leaning forward to leave a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose once again, making him scrunch his nose and let out a short giggle, "if it was left behind by your lover in your past life, new ones wouldn't form as you grow. there's so many galaxies in the universe. there's a million different you— at least, that's what i believe."

"i think, new moles form on your skin as they get kissed by their partner. but not just any partner. new ones form only when you've found the one for yourself. you know, your soulmate."

mingyu listens to you intently, blinking slowly. a soft smile spreads across his lips, his features blooming with love and possibly a hint of shyness, "so...," he trails off, "do you think moles are formed on places where the me in different universes get kissed with love?"

you nod, mirroring his smile. "so, do you think they'd have moles all over their body in places where you've kissed me with love?" he asks you, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

you stay silent for a few moments. mingyu always had a way to make your heart stop and skip several beats. he made your stomach drop and your eyes water all the time. but, not in a bad way. never in a bad way.

"yeah," you say, breaking the silence. your voice was almost a whisper now. "i think the other mingyus in other universes have moles on different parts of their body too."

it was mingyu's turn to go silent. you knew he was thinking. you knew he wanted to ask more. "do you think you're the one kissing those moles on my skin in the other universes too?" he asks.

you suck in a harsh breath. it was hard for you to express love for someone the way mingyu did. mingyu is usually shows love in a loud way. his way of showing love could only be described as bright, vibrant colors on a blank canvas.

you, on the other hand, showed love in quieter ways. if his way of showing love was bright, vibrant colors, then yours was more quiet. you loved mingyu, you knew that much. but, what you feel for him transcends the modern definition of love.

and, it was times like these when yoy're reminded of just how much you love the man laying by your side.

loving mingyu was painful. but, it was a pain that made you crave for more. you've never loved someone so much that it makes you want to rip your heart out of your chest and squeeze it with your own bare hands.

you lean forward, placing a kiss on his forehead and then moving down to gently brush your lips against his. "yes," you answer him.

your eyes hold so much love that mere words would fail in comparison as they meet mingyu's. "it's gonna be you and i in every universe. i'll be the one to kiss the moles on your skin," you brush your lips against the mole on his cheek.

"and, i'll be the one to kiss new ones onto your skin that a different version of me kisses in a different universe."

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ DEFINITIONS OF MUSIC.

fandom. formula one

pairing. charles leclerc x professional pianist fem!reader (fc: none)

about. y/n y/l/n is one of the celebreties who has gone viral during lockdown. when she publishes her first album, she raises a few eyebrows with a featured artist

content warnings. social media au, not edited/proofread

notes. this is a very self-indulgent fic... so you all better love it or else 🫵

YOURUSERNAME AND 3 OTHERS

liked by zendaya, hanszimmer and 14'083'874 others

yourusername and 3 others we're proud to announce the album DEFINITIONS. each of the 26 original composed pieces embrace the title itself, the feeling of these words. they're defined by our language and passion, a gift from us to you.

yourusername so happy our baby is finally out, thank you adrian, charles and jamie, for this partnership. i couldn't have done this without you!

hanszimmer This is music.

charles_leclerc And it's finally here! I had so much fun working on this, thank you @/yourusername for allowing me to be part of your project🥰

jamieduffyy absolutely incredible!! stream definitions now!!!

zendaya I'm sobbing over the whole alphabeth, who would've thought... this is 🤯🤯

user holyyyyy shittttttt

user 26 SONGS??? AND MOST OF THEM ARE OVER 4 MINS LONG WE'RE GETTING SPOILED FR

haileybieber listening this on repeat and still getting shivers, this is incredible work 💗

user the butterfly effect is so real here...

⤷ user if you told me i'd follow this one tiktoker because she went viral with her piano only to become a fan of men who drive in fancy circles...

⤷ user SO I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO'S NOW AN F1 FAN??

user sobbing over nepenthe on repeat

user CHARLES WITH LEMAN?? HELLO??? AND THEN ALSO PHILOCALY??? MY MAN STAND UP AND STOP WRITING LOVE LETTERS

⤷ user what.

⤷ user for the love of god, please look up what the words mean... charles really thought he was slick with this one

⤷ user oh my god.

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Y/N Y/L/N SHOCKS MUSIC WORLD WITH CLASSICAL ALBUM AND FEATURED ARTISTS! FIVE PIECES OF THE 26-PIECE ALBUM ARE IN THE INTERNATIONAL CHARTS. EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT 'DEFINITIONS'.

From Viral TikToker to Record Holder, Y/n brings Classical Music back in Trend.

By Sara Ristan | Published February 24, 2024

If you know anything about music, you know the current trends. Pop and Rap is what the current generation likes, with a few outliners. From the very beginning, Y/n seemed to be one of them as well. Her first release, 'A Sailor's Wish', has been trending along with 'Solas', by her fellow artist Jamie Duffy for many weeks.

Her other composed pieces never hit the same numbers, that was until she released a full album. 'Definitions' has 26 original composed pieces, mixed with piano and full orchestra. It's an album full of masterpieces, fully deserving the high praise it has been receiving the past few days.

Every piece in the Album is named after a rare word, each one of them beginning with a letter of the Alphabet. Most of them were composed by Y/n herself, her signature moves regognizable, if you're familiar with her music. If you wish to read a full analysis of the whole album, click here.

Notable, besides the mindblowing compositions, are also the featured artists. We have Adrian Berenguer, Charles Leclerc and Jamie Duffy- each of them well known in their niche. What has raised eyebrows however, is that unlike Adrian and Jamie, Charles himself. He's an athlete, a Formula One driver in fact and very well known. While his fans knew about his releases, singles and even an album with Sofiane Pamart, no one was prepared for the partnership with Y/n.

Especially the titles of the pieces, two of them speaking about love, one is even titled as 'Leman', which means lover. Are these two trying to give us hints?

Beside that, five of the 26 pieces are currently in the charts, having already gathered millions of streams within days. Absolutely mindblowing!

click to read more

CHARLES_LECLERC

liked by yourusername, zendaya and 3'099'738 others

charles_leclerc P1 in Driver Championship Standings, P1 in International Charts, P1 in your heart... I love you, mon amour

yourusername ugh, ugly sobbing crying rn, no one talk to me

yourusername i love you too you sap

⤷ charles_leclerc Guilty hehe

⤷ charles_leclerc Doesn't stop me from loving you, cherié

⤷ yourusername i never told you to stop

jamieduffy fucking finally

zendaya @/tomholland2013 why don't you write you love songs for me??

⤷ tomholland2013 you're the one who sings?

user WE WON!!! Y/N NATION WE FUCKING WON

user if you squint you can see me fucking dead BECAUSE WTF IS THIS THEYRE ACTUALLY TOGETHER I CAN NOT IM DEAD OH MYGOOODDDDDD

⤷ user lmao felt

user now we know how charles even agreed to y/n asking for a collab... he has always been down bad for her

⤷ yourusername you're so right

⤷ user OH MY GOD???

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taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @lupicalbestwolf , @akiraquote , @lpap , @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @namgification

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ARKHAM MAID 2024

[robo-writing]

NSFW Alphabet - Bi-Han Edition

Pairing: Bi-Han/Reader Authors Note: I look at this man and I can’t decide if I want him to choke me with his biceps or put him on his knees and make him call me mommy 🫠

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Bi-Han becomes extremely tender after sex, almost as if he’s a different person. When it’s just you two, bodies intertwined beneath the sheets, your head resting on his chest as you both slowly catch your breath, he can’t find it in himself to deny your beauty.

Your favorite moments are these, when the room is quiet save for the sound of the night and the rumble in his chest, when nothing matters except for you and Bi-Han. You live for these moments, revel in the way he softly strokes your hair and leaves kisses at your temple, the faintest smile gracing his normally stoic features.

The responsibility of Grandmaster is a tiring one, what you would give to be spoiled like this every day, to wake up and know that your boyfriend is waiting for you each morning, but perhaps that’s selfish to think about. For now, you can rest easy knowing that if nothing else, you can indulge in Bi-Han’s embrace now.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Bi-Han would be a liar if he said the sight of your ass in a nice pair of pants didn’t draw his attention. He sometimes thinks you do it on purpose, the way your hips sway when you walk past, enticing not only him but any man who becomes witness to your antics. It’s a point of pride to know that all they can do is watch and imagine while he is the only one in the world allowed to touch you, but it doesn’t still the jealousy within him when he knows the sight of you is enough to bring the attention of others. Perhaps he’ll teach you a lesson once he’s finished with his duties.

As for himself, it’s his hands. Hands that were trained for battle, hands that were trained to kill, he is very proud of his abilities. Recently his pride has been inflated when you mentioned you like his hands, not for their skill but for their size. Large enough to hold your close, or to press you further into the mattress.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Possibly his most favorite feeling in the world is being able to cum inside you, watch the mess that slides from between your folds and onto the bed in a messy puddle. The sight of you fucked out and delirious, his own seed staining the sheets is enough to drive him mad. More often than not it inspires him to fuck you harder.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly loves that you’re feisty, that you give him a hard time and you’re quick to disagree with him. He grew up as the first born son and because of that he’s been surrounded by those who simply take his words at face value. It’s led to a very boring life, but then you steamrolled through it, stubborn thing that you are; You don’t hesitate to talk back, make it a point of interest to call him out when he’s being an asshole, and in his eyes it only makes him love you even more. He hates the idea of a partner who just listens to him like the other Lin Kuei do, so your attitude is very refreshing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Bi-Han’s had sex before, but solely for the pleasure of it, not because of any romantic inclination. In his mind he needed to fulfill an urge, and once he had his fill the lady of his choice would leave; a purely transactional exchange. 

That being said, he is at the very least grateful for his previous encounters as they allow him to use what he’s learned on you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) 

It depends on his mood that night. If he’s feeling more romantic he’ll take his time with some missionary, letting every last inch of him sink into your needy cunt, his deep groans loud in your ears. Bi-Han has never been one for mindless praise, so when the only thing that leaves his mouth is pure adoration you know in your heart he means every word.

However, if you’ve been acting like a brat? He’s teaching you a lesson, a master of discipline as the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster. Face down, ass up, back arched, and it’s going to stay that way until he’s certain you’ve learned your lesson or until your legs give out, to which he’ll drape himself over you and fuck you until it hurts to breathe.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

While he might be more relaxed when it’s just the two of you, he is definitely not making jokes during sex, it’s almost scary how serious he is about your pleasure. He doesn’t understand the need for comedy with such an intimate affair and he might even take offense.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) 

He is extremely groomed, from his face to his pubes. He has a regular grooming schedule and it’s a common sight to see him in the bathroom with a razor in hand. 

“Bi-Han?” You call out sleepily, unaware of your husband’s whereabouts.

A hum, and a quiet “In here.” Is enough to give you an idea. Your feet slowly paddled across the floor, and in the bathroom you see him slowly going over his face with a razor.

You enjoy the moment for what it is before speaking. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with facial hair.”

“It is easier to wear a mask without hair in the way,” he says bluntly. You agree with him, but can’t help but tease him a bit more.

“If it matters, I think you’d look good with a beard.”

His hands stop just for a second before moving again, the faintest smile on his lips. “I will keep that in mind.”

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You wouldn’t expect it, but he is surprisingly romantic during the deed. Sex is a private occasion, unlike what happens outside your bedroom Bi-Han allows himself to be vulnerable, to let his emotions run rampant. It often results in a very intimate affair where he can finally express himself to you without any fear of judgement, where he can kiss you to his hearts content and admire your beauty up close without the weight of Grandmaster on his shoulders.

If you told anyone they’d have a hard time believing it, but Grandmaster Bi-Han is secretly a softy, at least where you’re concerned. Even if he seems standoffish in public, you know better.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you two were dating he would find himself dreaming of you in various compromising positions to the point that he felt angry at both himself for indulging in those thoughts, and you for occupying them.

There would always be a pang of guilt that ran through him knowing that he just touched himself to the thought of you, but he truly couldn’t help himself—you were just too much of a distraction.

After you two become a couple he’s become far more accepting of his needs, but even so he’d prefer you were there to assist him, so he can wait for a while.

The entire day has been trying, from morning to night Bi-Han hasn’t had a moments peace, not as long as you were around.

He thinks maybe you are a witch, that you’ve casted some kind of spell on him, a vile magic that makes his heart beat faster and his tongue turn to lead. Racing thoughts of you and only you.

Your words, your touch, your body—it’s enough to distract him, and nothing distracts him.

The entire day is trying, so when he falls to the bed and thinks of you again, his hands immediately falls towards his cock to rectify the issue.

He curses his weakness, his shirt sandwiched between his teeth, a feeble attempt to stifle his moans. He curses you in the same breath, you and your haunting figure. Faster and faster does his hand move against his hard cock, until his racing mind is filled with thoughts of you milking him for all he’s worth.

Before he’s awash with pleasure, trembling with satisfaction, the last thing he curses is himself for being too cowardly to admit his desire for you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding: He wants kids, he wants you to know he wants kids, and he wants you to know how good you would look with a belly full of them. Even if you’re not ready for kids or you’re taking birth control it’s not going to stop him from coming inside you, his idea of aftercare is running two fingers between your dripping cunt, stuffing you full of them and kissing your tears away.

“I know you’re sensitive dear, but it’s necessary, we need to make sure not to waste a single drop.”

Brat taming: If you’re a brat, enjoy yourself. He loves your attitude but when you push him too far he won’t hesitate to force you on your knees and remind you exactly who’s in charge in this relationship.

“It would have been easier for you to admit your need,” he groans, his heavy cock slapping against your open mouth, the taste of salt on your tongue. “But you had to make this difficult. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you.”

Marking: he’s more conservative about marks on himself but on you it’s free real estate. His favorite ones are the scratches you leave on his back.

You’ve fallen asleep minutes ago, but Bi-Han is still awake, stretching his back and reveling in the familiar ache that stings his skin. Your nails are sure to leave a mark, a trophy he’ll admire in the mirror when he gets dressed tomorrow.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom mainly. You’d have to really rile him up to convince him to fuck you in public, and even then it’s a risky affair. He enjoys when you moan for him, but times like this call for stealth, something you lack when you’re being fucked.

His solution for this is gagging you. His fingers get the job done, or he’ll muffle your lips with his own.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You pretending as if you don’t know the effect you have on him, when you brush against him in public, when you bend over just a bit too much to be innocent. The front is amusing, but what’s more amusing is how easily it crumbles apart when you’re put on your knees.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing you with anyone else, you’re his and his only. He also wouldn’t draw blood on you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preference in receiving rather than giving, but when his thoughts get too loud and he needs a moment of peace and quiet the first place he’ll settle is between your legs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough, possessive even—long, deep strokes that punch the air out of your lungs and make you see stars. He wants the world to know who you belong to, which is evident from the amount of hickeys and bruises left on your person after the fact. If you leave some on him he won’t mind, even if he is technically supposed to hide them it’s unsurprising to see the faintest little purple mark peeking out beneath his collar, a not-so-subtle reminder.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t like them, flat out. He knows a quickie is not enough to satisfy his appetite of you, he’d sooner wait until he’s certain neither of you have any prior obligations to devour you as he sees fit.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Surprisingly open to experimentation. It’s almost like training in his mind, a game of figuring out what makes you tick, what makes you see stars and cry out for him. Needless to say he’s very proficient at this game.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) 

God bless that Lin Kuei training; hours, although he is aware of your own limits and will gladly let you take a break should you need one. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I feel like you would have to own them yourself or you would have to introduce them to him. He might take offense to the idea of having anything that isn’t him bring you pleasure but you showed him the joys of using one and now he’s more open to the idea.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he’s fucking evil, for such a stoic man you would never expect it but he gets off to seeing you wanting him, needing him. There’s always a plan brewing in that head of his.

Remember when I said you introduced him to the idea of toys in the bedroom? He may or may not force you to sit on a vibrator when you’re being bratty as a form of punishment while he leaves you tied to the bed. Only when he’s certain you’ve learned your lesson will he turn it off, but by then you’re a shaky, sweaty pile of your former self. Be careful what you wish for.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Groaner, deep growls in an even deeper tone, you can feel the rumble of him in his chest like an engine. He gets so breathy when he’s close too, it’s a sight to behold.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Secretly wants to be dominated, but will never say it out loud, you’ve got to figure that out yourself. When you finally do don’t expect him to make it easy for you either, he’ll fight you on every command and order until you either tie him down or gag him (He actually enjoys the thrill of the fight, he’s kind of a brat in that way.)

“I never thought the Grandmaster would enjoy being so exposed,” you giggle, admiring how the crimson rope compliments his skin, nearly the same shade as the blush that runs from his face down to his neck.

He tugs at his restraints, once, twice, before groaning at the feeling of your hands around his cock. It’s far too slow for his taste, he needs more and you know it, his head falling back when you squeeze his shaft and watch enamored as pre-cum dribbles down your fingers.

“Damn you,” he says, groaning when you respond with another firm grip. He takes a shuddering breath, cursing your name, and then begging for more in the same breath. All bark and no bite.

“You sure look like you’re enjoying yourself,” you muse, swiping your thumb against his leaking slit. “Look at that, making a mess of yourself.”

There’s a feral edge to the smile on his face, enjoying this little game. “These bonds cannot hold me for long. You know that, don’t you?”

Your eyebrow raises at that. “Course I do. But you’re not going to leave, are you Bi-Han?”

The air is filled with tension, and with his silence you have your answer, your hand moving faster as his hips desperately try to meet your rhythm.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 

6.3 inches, circumsized, veiny at the base. My man is THICK, it’s heavy when you hold it in your hands and almost makes you wonder how he can walk straight, and his tip turns a pretty shade of rose when he’s aroused, reaching down to his shaft as if his cock is blushing. That thing should be registered as a weapon.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

If he could he’d have you pressed into the bed all day, but responsibilities come first. He can deceive you with how much self control he has but trust and believe he is almost always ready to go.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Not quick at all, he revels in taking his time with you and refuses to sleep until he knows you’re taken care of. It’s a rule of his to watch you and make sure you’re safe before he succumbs himself, he’ll say it’s because of his life as an assassin but in reality he just enjoys seeing your blissful state.

Graphics by @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

[rekishiteki]

Ardent Affection

Summary: You just really love Jing Yuan

Words: Around 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff the whole way through; reader is not described in any way and implied to be a long life species; reader and jing yuan are very clingy and a little possessive; jing yuan decided to be cheeky so this ended up kind of suggestive at the end

Notes: I wrote this for meee!!!!! It's self indulgent!! It's what I want to do with jing yuan!!! It's been months and I'm still so down bad for him. I'm so in love with him it's making me ill!!!! Done trying to edit this so take it before I explode from the yearning

This is also an offering to his rerun banner. I need my beautiful husband so please let me win my next 50/50 and his lightcone 👉👈

You're relaxing with Jing Yuan in his gardens. He's lying on his side with a hand propping his head up. His eyes are closed and he looks content to be here sunning himself. You're sitting with your back resting against his middle. His other hand is placed on your arm and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest. It's comforting. You let out a content sigh, basking in the serenity of the moment. Your thoughts drift to Jing Yuan as they tend to do, your gaze drifting along with it. You examine him and his beautiful features, heart tightening with the love you feel for him.

"I wish I was as old as you." The words come out of your mouth impulsively, the barely formed thoughts surprising you.

Jing Yuan's eyes open. He looks curious. A moment passes before he responds. "How come?"

You purse your lips before turning away to think. Knowing this Jing Yuan simply lets the hand on your arm start gently stroking you. He'll patiently wait for your answer. He always does.

After a while you turn your body to face him. One hand is supporting you on the ground while you rest the other on his side. "Because," you pause and squeeze the hand you have on him. You're always nervous to voice the feelings you harbor deep within. But in the end you can't help being an open book for him. He makes it so easy to do so. "Because maybe I could have known you sooner. We could've had more time together. And... you wouldn't have had to be alone for centuries."

He's silent as he takes in your words, eyes never leaving you. Then an amused huff escapes him as he brings his free hand to cup your face. The smile Jing Yuan's giving you drives you insane, the one where he looks so utterly in love with you that it constricts your heart to the point it feels like it's going to burst from the overwhelming affection you have for him. Those feelings are where this thought originated from. You love him so much it makes you greedy. Greedy for him. You want his everything and you want to give him everything in turn. You hate that you've missed so much of his life. You want all of him including the past you can't have. To make him irrevocably yours, and you his.

Jing Yuan draws you closer, his thumb lovingly caressing your cheek. It brings your attention back to him. You wonder how much of your thought process he's aware of. Your noses are almost touching now. He's smiling as he speaks. "I have you now."

It takes a moment to find your voice as you find yourself lost in his eyes. "Is that enough?"

He's staring at you like he wants to get lost in yours too. "More than enough. We have our whole future ahead of us, don't we?"

Something inside of you snaps. The way he says it, like it's obvious the two of you will always be together. For a long time. It makes you delirious. Delirious with love. And you need to act on it or you really will burst. So you surge forward to kiss him. And he must have been expecting it because he's already turning on his back and taking you with him. The hand on your cheek moves to the back of your head to press you closer. Your own hands are gripping him tightly. His other hand now on your waist squeezes in response. And so the two of you lie there, luxuriating in each other's sweet kisses. You want to kiss him forever but the need to breathe wins out. You break away with a sigh. Jing Yuan's eyes gleam with mirth as he watches you and you feel as if your breath's been stolen again.

You wonder if you should say something but the only thing you're capable of coming up with is a flurry of I love you's. Jing Yuan seems to know what's rattling in your head for his gaze softens. He brings a hand up to your face again but this time you lean into it and grab it. He chuckles. "You're always so sweet for me," he says, looking so incredibly fond of you.

You hum in acknowledgement. "I love you," you mewl. You love Jing Yuan so much, how could you not want to be so sweet and good for him? He's gone through so much yet still remains so good and kind hearted without ever expecting anything in return. But you want to return it. You want to give him the love he lives by and fill his life with joy. This is the second origin of your thoughts. If you knew him longer you could've started making him the happiest man on the Luofu sooner.

"I love you, too. Very much." He says it like it's a secret just for you, all while looking horribly smitten. It sends your heart soaring. You smile at him and there's no doubt it's just as smitten as his.

Jing Yuan stills and you don't have any time to react as he's the one surging forward to kiss you this time. However this kiss is different. It's searing and tantalizing. You feel your world tilt as Jing Yuan turns to settle over you trapping you under him. His lips part briefly and then give a chaste peck before pulling away to grin at you. It's a playful grin, almost smug. He tilts his head to the side almost as if he's challenging you.

You're wide eyed as you take a moment to recover. Then you laugh and shake your head, smiling all the while. "You're such a scoundrel."

"Only for you." You can tell how much he's enjoying this from the delightful smirk he's wearing.

"Yes, yes, you're my scoundrel." You reach up to pat his head. There's a small hum as his eyes close momentarily in pleasure.

"Do you regret being loved by a 'scoundrel'?" The amusement is clearly written on his face. It's evident he knows what the only answer is.

You scoff. Fleetingly you wonder how to continue but Jing Yuan's assurance in your love for each other always makes you want to be sincere. So you smile and answer, "No. I could never."

A quiet moment passes where Jing Yuan simply returns your smile before he's leaning down to press a loving kiss to your forehead. "Good. I'm afraid there's no escaping from me now." Suddenly, you're very aware of the hands that grip your waist a little tighter and how you're effectively pinned beneath him. It's like he's saying you're his and the thought sends a thrill through you. You're in the palm of his hands now and that's your favorite place to be.

You bring up your arms to wrap them around his neck. You easily pull him closer to you. The two of you stare at each other as the silence simmers with a gentle heat. It's broken—but not gone—when you quietly tell him, "I wouldn't have it any other way. Because you can't escape from me either."

Jing Yuan practically lights up at that. He grins, pleased. "I'm all yours." You think Jing Yuan likes to enable your possessiveness. Something about it seems to fill him with satisfaction. Maybe it's knowing that someone could feel so ardently for him. That somehow you've chosen to love him and never rescind it. Or at least that's how you feel about him and his possession of you. It does make you greedy. He's greedy. He'll take whatever you give him and return it tenfold. You two are lovesick and doomed to never recover.

The thought is tickling. You laugh. There's no need for words so you simply lean forward to kiss him. He meets you halfway. You can't tell who started it but it doesn't matter. Each one speaks of the love you hold for the other.

Jing Yuan pulls away with a nip to your bottom lip. Your breath hitches. Both from the action and the way he's now looking at you. He wants to proposition you. You know he will. And he knows you'll agree. He'll be so nice and sweet as he asks you it'll leave you swooning. You both know this and yet it never gets any less exhilarating.

You can feel the anticipation grow within you as you watch him draw closer. Jing Yuan rests his forehead against yours. He's smiling. The desire in his beautiful golden eyes holds you captive. One of his hands is lightly trailing down your arm to grab your hand. He interlaces his fingers with yours. The two of you remain like that for a moment to take each other in. Finally Jing Yuan says to you, "My dear," and it's spine tingling the way he calls to you so reverently. "Allow me to express my love for you in other ways. Let me show you how good I can be for you, hm?"

His words send a delightful shiver through you. "Please, Jing Yuan," you answer him but it's more of a plead. He really is so good to you. Whatever he gives you, you also want to return tenfold. Jing Yuan gives you one last fond smile before he's up and carrying you to your shared bed. The love you have for him is bubbling up again and threatening to overflow. You also want to express it in other ways. To tether him with sweet adoration and endless devotion like he readily does to you. It's a fulfilling game of give and take neither of you want to end.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

requested by @bonesartblog kiss that devil!!!! (you probably wanted something wholesome but it came out super horny lol sorry)

Read on AO3

-

The razor held so close to his face, to the tender skin of his throat. Her hands did not tremble; his trust did not waver.

Tav shaved Raphael slow and careful, focused but taking some secret enjoyment out of moving his head the way she wanted to catch the shadow on the curve of his jaw. He shifted where he sat in a plush chair in his boudoir. He was a very patient man, but he also liked irritating her.

“Stop it,” she grumbled, working to remove an obstinate patch of brisk hairs in the cleft of his chin. Even seated, he was still so big she didn’t have to stoop to reach it.

“This is so dreadfully dull, mouse,” he retorted, sounding as put-upon as possible. Tav knew it was a farce. No one loved being fussed over more than Raphael did. Especially if she was the one doing the fussing.

“It wouldn’t take so long if you’d just sit still.”

“I am sitting still.” He punctuated his point by crossing his legs. Tav gave him a flat look. He blinked slowly at her, amusement sparkling in his pretty eyes. “Might I remind you that you were the one who insisted I needed to shave?”

“Yes, because your stubble kept scratching me. Particularly in…more tender places, you know.” Tav busied herself with her work, ignoring the lascivious and satisfied smile that curled her devil’s mouth. “Besides, I’m almost finished. You can handle waiting a little longer, can’t you?”

“Hmm.”

His skin was so warm beneath her fingers. It thrilled Tav to touch Raphael like this, intimate without the frenzy of sex, but she struggled to maintain eye contact for more than brief moments as she scraped away stubble and soap from his sculpted features. He always watched her so intensely, in a way no one ever had or could ever match, and sometimes it was overwhelming. She saw the inescapable rings of fire that were his irises often in her deepest dreams.

“There.” Using the towel in his lap, Tav wiped him clean and stepped back. “Done.”

Raphael rubbed a hand over his jaw. If he was looking for imperfections, he found none.

“Adequate,” he said. “Though I suppose it requires further testing to be completely sure.”

“What do you mean?”

The devil uncrossed his legs, spread them, slouching back into a far more relaxed posture. “Come here.”

He still made her heart flutter and her stomach swoop like she was a schoolgirl with a crush, and the way he looked right then had her a little weak in the knees. Thin white shirt unbuttoned, trousers loose, barefoot. His hair was still damp from his recent bath. A few locks escaped from the lazy combing he’d given it with his fingers. They hung tantalizingly between his horns. Tug me, they whispered. Dark curls peppered his broad chest and soft middle, tempting her further. His tail swayed ever so slightly, those big gorgeous leathery wings splayed out. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his expression the ghost of a smirk. A devastating and dangerous creature.

Tav went to him gladly.

His hot breath tickled her face and she shut her eyes in anticipation, humming quietly as he kissed her. Deliberately slow, gentle, indulgent presses of his plush thin lips to hers, the corners of her mouth, just shy of the deeper connection she wanted. No self-respecting devil does all the hard work, after all, so Tav pressed herself closer. Entombed by his thick thighs either side. She let one hand settle on his chest, fingers splayed. His heart beat strong and steady beneath them. Her other hand went around his neck to tangle in his silky hair and she kissed him hard. He tasted like cherry soap and smoke. She couldn’t get enough, consuming his cocky huff of amusement at her open display of desire. Yet he returned her passion. One big cambion paw grasped her chin and her neck both, gently tilting her face the way he wanted now so he could sup upon her lips, drink each gasp and sigh he pulled from her, coax her mouth open to push his forked tongue behind her teeth. His other hand squeezed her backside, claws digging in. He groaned throatily when she sucked on his roaming tongue.

“Mm…I did a good job,” Tav said breathlessly when they broke apart, a thin ribbon of saliva still connecting them. She peppered kisses and bites along his chin and jaw. Grinned into his smooth skin when she felt his growing interest. “But there’s still a few other places to test…”

“On the bed, my little mouse,” the devil growled. “Now.”

[eli0004]

Levi Ackerman NSFW Alphabet

Pairing: sub!Levi x Reader

Warnings: msub, dominance, degradation, praise, some heavy kink activity and whatnot, mentions of insecurity

(AN: I’m sorry this took me forever, but I was thrilled about this request because I LOVVVVE smut alphabets. Please feel free to request more, or ask for further elaboration on anything in this one! 💜)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When Levi is coming down from the high of his orgasm, he can’t hide the fact that he’s feeling good. He’ll lie there with you, head on your chest as his shoulders rise and fall while he catches his breath. You can stroke his hair and run your thumb over his cheek, and he’ll turn to gaze up at you with soft, sleepy eyes. It’s really a treat to see this side of him, so relaxed and pliant. And if you’re lucky, you could watch his eyes flutter closed, and hear his soft snores as he drifts off to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He isn’t confident about much, but i can see Levi being confident in his jawline. I envision him turning his head to the side and taking his straight razor down his neck, scraping off the shaving cream and admiring, even if it’s only for a moment, the sharpness and angularity of it.

On you? Is it a cop out to say everything? How could you even ask him to pick something when he loves all of you so much? But, in all seriousness, I think Levi would find “unique” features very attractive. If you have a larger nose, vitiligo, lots of freckles, stretch marks, surgery scars…etc etc. If you’re insecure about it, Levi loves it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I think he’d prefer to cum either inside or catch it somewhere for easy clean up, but his orgasms, more often than not, tend to be quick and intense. He’s cumming before he can really even think about where to do it. If you’re giving him head, he’ll feel himself getting closer and closer and he’ll writhe and paw at your hair, but the scorching pleasure tends to make his brain short circuit, and he can’t find the words to warn you. Recognizing body language is very important when in bed with Levi.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I feel like, from time to time, Levi imagines what it would be like to fully dedicate himself to submitting to you. Allowing you to make the smallest decisions for him, how to spend his money, when to eat or drink, when - and where - to use the restroom. I believe he fantasizes a bit about life as a lifestyle sub, living entirely for you and what makes you feel happy. It’s what makes him happy.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

My personal favorite is inexperienced/virgin Levi, but if we’re being realistic i’d say he’s at least got a hand job or two under his belt. I think given his past, and how he grew up, he doesn’t place as much emphasis on sex and sexual experience as your average man. If you ask him, it’s just a normal thing that people do, it’s human nature to chase after pleasure.

Then again I also think, perhaps given the more traumatic aspect to his past, there’s a high possibility that he has some underlying negative feelings about it, whether he realizes it or not. When in a relationship, i think it likely takes many months before he feels comfortable enough to indulge in the act. But once he does, he can be a bit insatiable at times.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Riding!! Levi likes to be beneath you, but this certainly doesn’t mean you’ll be doing all the work. He’ll do his best to make you feel just as good as you make him feel, roaming his hands over your thighs, chest, thumbing over your clit/tip. He likes when you cup his jaw and tilt his head to force eye contact. You can watch him struggle to keep his eyes open while he’s dizzy from the pleasure.

If he’s feeling extra mushy gushy, he might like missionary, pressing his body tightly against yours and all but laying on top of you. He’ll bury his face into your neck and grunt and groan softly against your skin as he thrusts slow and deep. Run your fingers through his hair and gently tug, scratch down his back, he fucking lives for that.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

To Levi, sex and intimacy is an act of worship. To praise your body and your heart and to show his gratitude and gratefulness for the way you love him. He’s far too enamored, too consumed by emotion to even think about being unserious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps neatly trimmed, but he’ll only shave if he fucks up the trim somehow. That said, it’s Levi we’re talking about, meticulous is his middle name. When would he ever fuck up anything? So, neatly trimmed it is, dark, course and it thins out into a sexy little line that comes up just below his belly button. Happy trail supremacy 😩

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As previously stated, sex with Levi doesn’t exist without intimacy. This man is nothing if not passionate, and he puts everything he has into it, just to show you what you mean to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Levi rarely gets off on his own, i think it makes him uncomfortable to be so hormone driven. When he goes a while without seeing you, he’ll ignore those random erections and push away the horny thoughts until it becomes unbearable, and only then will he take care of himself.

However, i think Levi is a big fan of mutual masturbation. He likes having your eyes on him while he strokes himself, the way you gaze at him like you’ve never seen a sight so mouth-watering, so mesmerizing. It boosts his confidence ten-fold. When he’s getting closer, his hand will speed up and his jaw will go slack, you can watch him hunch over himself as he cums, balls tightening and contracting as he spurts over his knuckles.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Levi likes to challenge you when he’s feeling a bit more freaky. When there’s a lot of sexual tension between the both of you, he likes to be put in his place. In those moments, he can be a bit of a brat.

He likes to be teased, though he often pretends not to. If you want to build up that tension, you can send him sexy looks, touch him when no one is looking, get him all flustered just to walk away and make him wait. He’ll call you a tease, tell you you’re being mean, but it’s clear that he loves it by the way he seeks you out for more.

Manhandling? He’s a sucker for someone who can push him around, force eye contact with a firm grip on his jaw, back him up against the nearest surface for some steamy kisses.

Praise and degradation. When he’s being good, dote on that man. Tell him he’s your good boy, dish out all the rewards. When he’s being a pain in your ass, a little condescending degradation gets him all hot and bothered. Caress his cheek with a sweet smile and tell him he’d better cut the attitude before you leave him to fuck his fist like the horny little bitch he is.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

It’s a common headcannon that he’d most prefer shower sex, and while i do think he’d enjoy it for obvious reasons, i think he’d also be fond of the intimate aspect of doing it in low lighting, trapped between the bedsheets, when he’s feeling a bit more soft.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you care for him. His main love language is acts of service, that’s a no-brainer at this point, but it works both ways. You cooked a meal for him? He’s gonna have you for dessert.

Levi has very little experience with feeling loved, so the quickest way to turn him on is to baby him, regardless of how he might pretend he doesn’t need it. Three words: do it anyway. And seeing you do it as if loving him is like second nature is a sure way to have him all over you.

And if you initiate, it’s even better. Show him how much you want him, when you’re kissing and grinding up on each other, slip his hand between your legs to feel the effect he has on you. Knowing he turns you on, that you want him just as badly as he wants you, that sort of thing gets him hard embarrassingly quick.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

It’s hard to say, because most of the time Levi would do just about anything you ask him, especially if he trusts you. But i don’t think he’d be too much of a fan of blood/knife play or emeto/scat. Essentially, no infliction of real lasting pain, and nothing that is, in his eyes, “unhygienic”. He sees enough of that in his day to day life and derives no sexual pleasure from it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He may not be a pro, but Levi learns by watching how you react. If you twitch or throb or quiver when he licks you there, he’ll double down and drive you wild. Going down on you isn’t his favorite way to get you off, but he would spend an eternity between your legs if you asked him to.

In terms of himself, Levi doesn’t always understand why you’d want to put him in your mouth, but he’ll never complain. He keeps himself nice and groomed, clean and he’ll never force your head unless you asked him to. He doesn’t know where to put his hands and his breathing gets a bit shaky when you’re kissing down his tummy. But all that nervousness dissipates the second he feels your tongue swirl around his tip, too drunk on pleasure to be so cautious.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on how he’s feeling, if he’s in a more relaxed and romantic mood he may prefer gentle touching and body worship, whether you’re doing the fucking or he is. He likes those slow, deep strokes, so he can feel every inch, in and out.

If he’s feeling moody or stressed, or even simply pent up, Levi is ready to get his back blown out. He likes it face down, ass up. Or if you’re on top, have a firm grip on his throat and force eye contact as you slam down on/into him. The quickest way to hear those pretty little sounds.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Levi doesn’t mind them, but always expect more later. Quickies are more of a warm up, or a form of foreplay in his eyes. Especially if you use him to get yourself off and leave him hanging. It sounds mean, but sometimes he likes you a little mean. It’s always worth it when you milk him dry later anyway.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

In the beginning, new ideas are met with some level of skepticism. Over time, the more trust is established, the mo comfortable he becomes, the more he’s willing to try new things. He knows you’d never steer him wrong or force him into an uncomfortable situation, but it’s crucial that he feels safe enough to speak up when he’s not feeling it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s not as energetic as he used to be, but he can go a couple times with breaks in between. Overstimulation puts him in subspace pretty easily too, so don’t be afraid to test his limits.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Vibrators vibrators vibrators!!! He loves them! He won’t say it, but when you pull out your little bullet, Levi feels such a wave of excitement. He always cums twice as hard when you suck him off with it pressed up against his taint, or trace it over his balls. If you want to tease him extra good, you can ghost it over his tip and watch his thighs start to tremble.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Levi doesn’t tease as much as he tests your boundaries. When he wants to be put in his place, you’ll know by the way he isn’t as quick to follow directions, or his sarcastic remarks when you’re breaking him down. There’s something he loves about watching your eyes go from gentle and sweet to domineering and animalistic. That’s how he knows he’s gotten just what he wants.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Rarely is he truly loud, but he’s definitely not quiet either. Levi is expressive in his own way, through heavy labored breathing and soft hums of pleasure, “ngh” and “mnm” sounds. He gets louder as you dish out more and more, and when he’s close, his jaw slackens and he inhales sharply, before letting out a drawn out, breathy groan.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Levi is shy about titles, but the closer he gets to subspace, the less his inhibitions are present, and before you know it, he’s responding to your instructions with a “yes ma’am/sir” or “ok mommy/daddy”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He isn’t big, but he isn’t small. I’d say Levi is packing pretty average, with a good amount of girth. He has a slight upward curve, and such a pretty pale pink color. He leaks too, especially when he’s pent up. A bit of dry humping and heavy kissing is all it takes to have him leaving dark wet patches on the front of his pants.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a moderate sex drive, but even if he’s been desperate for you all day long, sometimes he finds it hard to initiate. This goes back to the whole “recognizing body language is important” thing, because more often than not, he’s going to show you he’s in the mood.

He’ll be more touchy, you’ll notice his eyes lingering on your body, he sits closer to you and makes his presence more obvious. Once he’s gotten more comfortable in the relationship, he might press himself against you during hugs, so you can feel him semi-hard in his pants, or his kisses might become longer and laced with desperation.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It really is a battle in his mind: to stay awake and snuggle up, or to give into exhaustion. He can’t help but feel extra relaxed when you’re done coaxing orgasms out of him, and his eyes get soft and dreary. Pet his hair a bit and hold him tight and he’s out like a light.

[xpao-bearx]

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 2 HERE

Read Part 3 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

SUMMARY: Steven Grant has come to the devastating conclusion that he was fated to be single forever. Marc didn't care for romance, Jake was only interested in one-night stands, and Steven was--well...Steven.

But when you started working alongside him at the museum's gift shop--a pretty girl younger than him with a bright smile and a cloying kindness he hasn't been the recipient of in a long time--he begins to think that maybe romance is in the cards for him.

Especially when you are just as awkward as him and sinfully lovely.

AKA "the man without love" falls for "the virgin".

RATING: 18+ minors please do NOT interact!!! This fic will contain romance, smut, and generally mature content (though not ALL parts will have explicit smut).

NOTES: I recently rewatched Moon Knight and have been in the mood to write my own fic after reading countless of amazing ones on here, then outta the blue Madonna's song Like A Virgin got stuck in my head and it got me thinking "Huh... This song is cute for Steven if he gets a girlfriend. ACTUALLY WAIT A DAMN MINUTE IT COULD FIT ALL THE MOON KNIGHT BOYS"

And so... Tada! Here's le result~ Although I'm still working out the details, this fic will have ✨️6 PARTS✨️ This fic will PROBABLY be quite self-indulgent, and at times the way the reader is written could be a bit similar to an OC. I'm so sorry if that is the case, but please understand that I'm writing this for fun and I'm just going with the flow!

Some things will also be different from the show. For example, all the boys are actually aware of each other in this fic. I try to stick as close as possible to the source material, but hey this is my fic and like I said I just wanna have fun 😂

Thank you sooo much and I sincerely hope you enjoy!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are STRONGLY encouraged and appreciated so please don't be a silent reader!

Now... Join me as I hopelessly thirst over this RIDICULOUSLY gorgeous man both in fiction AND reality \(^o^)/

Part 1: Didn't know how lost I was until I found you

Steven willed his legs to go faster, pushing through London's usual busy morning crowd and into the museum he was cursed to work at. Clutching his bag in one hand, and the other holding his small thermos of coffee as he prayed to any Egyptian god listening that Donna wouldn't catch him this time.

But, of course, the only Egyptian god within Steven's vicinity was Khonshu. And the old bird only cared about how his Moon Knight was upholding his duties as his "Fist of Vengeance", not of his Avatar's petty human responsibilities such as "keeping a job".

"Late again, eh, Stevie?" Donna's annoying voice mocked Steven, pausing in his tracks as he sighed deeply and begrudgingly turned towards his boss.

"Sorry, Donna." He shot the blonde a forced smile, his grip on his thermos tightening. "Got stuck in traffic. You know how it is, yeah?"

"I wouldn't because unlike you, Stevie, I'm never late." Donna returned his fake smile along with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway, enough chatter. You've got someone working with you at the gift shop from now on. Maybe this way you won't be late, yeah? Teach her how to actually sell some bloody candy."

Steven opened his mouth to retort, but was quickly cut off when his new co-worker--you--stepped out from behind Donna. You were younger than him, around your twenties, and you were such a shy little thing with your head slightly ducked down. Your E/C eyes peeked out from behind the glasses framing your delicate features, long lashes fluttering as you flashed him a sweet smile. Your fingers fiddled nervously with the pink midi skirt you wore, matching the dainty pink ribbons that tied your H/C hair in two low pigtails.

Your smile faltered as your gaze met Steven's dark brown ones. He remained silent, mouth hanging agape as he stared at you as if you grew two heads. Your eyes lowered, heart threatening to burst right out of your poor chest.

Did you do something wrong? Maybe you should've ditched the ribbons, you looked ridiculous, right? Why was he staring at you? Oh, god, why was such a HOT guy staring at you?!

"Hello, uh, I'm Steven Grant." Your head snapped up, witnessing the twist of Steven's lips into a kind albeit awkward smile that accompanied a friendly little wave. "Steven..." He seemed to be rethinking his words before, ultimately, the dorky side of him won. "...with a V."

A smile once again bloomed across your face, feeling more at ease this time. "Hi, I'm Y/N L/N. With anxiety!" You chirped the latter a little too cheerfully, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you inwardly slapped yourself. No, punched yourself. "O-Oh, uh, I-I didn't mean that! I-I mean, no, it was just a joke--but a really BAD one, oh god--"

As you rambled nonsensically, Donna arched a judgmental brow at you before noticing the utterly smitten expression on Steven's face as he watched you with a huge goofy grin. Now both of Donna's eyebrows were raised to her hairline before she slowly backed away, leaving you two to fend for yourselves.

At least this time, though, Steven wouldn't be late anymore.

'She's so...'

'Weird.' Marc piped up in Steven's head.

'Amusing.' Jake snickered.

'...lovely.' Steven finished, eyes gleaming the same way it does for Egyptology as he continued to look at you as if you hung the moon in the sky.

He adored you instantly.

♡•••🌙•••♡

It's been two months since you started working at the museum's gift shop. During that time, you and Steven got closer. He discovered that you were a college dropout, reaching a stressful breaking point one day and deciding to just work for the meantime before figuring the rest of your life out. And as it turns out, you weren't so shy after all; once you were out your shell, you were just as big of a dork as Steven was and whenever you two were together, your shift passed by quickly--too quickly.

From the very first moment, you and Steven got along splendidly. He was a complete sweetheart and it always shattered your heart whenever Donna harassed him with any snarky and insensitive remarks.

Steven was used to it so he didn't mind it too much. What he wasn't used to, though, was you. You who was always so kind, lending a listening ear whenever he went on a passionate tangent regarding Egypt and even encouraging him on his dream of becoming the museum's tour guide. You who always graced him with a genuine smile that reached your ears, eyes sparkling whenever you see him as if he was your favourite art piece in the entire museum.

You who always made his heart race, palms sweaty, mind swirling without fail.

You had an intense crush on Steven--a longing, really--but what you didn't know was that he felt the same about you. But perhaps it was more than that. He practically worshipped the ground you walked on, and it certainly didn't miss Donna's unexpectedly sharp eyes. She'd tease him whenever you left earlier than him, looking like a kicked little puppy as his gaze trailed after you.

Today was no different as he stared helplessly at you, and it was a wonder you didn't feel the invisible daggers boring into you. There were only ten minutes left before you were done for the day and you both were stuck in inventory, but for once in his life he loved doing inventory and he desperately wished that this incredible moment with you, alone, would last forever.

'You're so fucking pathetic, ese.' Jake echoed in Steven's mind.

Nowadays Jake was becoming more vocal, at least when you're around. Marc, on the other hand, remained tight-lipped. The mercenary would much rather have absolutely nothing to do with you at all costs.

'Shut up, mate.' Steven silently argued, brows furrowing as his eyes finally broke away from you and focused on organizing some Taweret plushies.

'Only saying the truth, ese. You've got her all to yourself and the only thing you can think of is that you wish this time would last forever?' Jake scoffed. 'Be a man and step the fuck up. You know you want to, especially with the way she looks today.'

Steven's burning gaze was right back on you, eyes darkening slightly. He hated to admit it, but Jake was right. You were always so pretty, but something about today made you look that much more.

You always dressed modestly, but with the weather warming up lately you opted for a black pleated skirt that fell just above your knees and a tucked in short sleeved yellow blouse with the top few buttons undone exposing the tiniest bit of your cleavage. You also wore matching yellow heels that perfectly accentuated your legs and it made him feral.

"Steven? Are you okay?"

His eyes met yours and a smile instantly curled up his lips, nodding his head as if he wasn't just ogling you like a total perv. "Yes, I just zoned out. Sorry, love." Ugh, the way he called you 'love' so casually had you swooning.

If only he actually meant it.

You nodded back, shoving your thoughts away and returning his smile before glancing towards a portrait. "A shame what they did to this, huh?"

Steven curiously followed your line of sight, seeing a portrait of the Ennead.

"Whoever did this made a major blunder. Isn't the Ennead supposed to have nine gods, not seven?"

"YES!" You flinched slightly at Steven's exclamation, whipping your head towards him only to see him with the cutest blush ever.

"Erm, s-sorry, uh..." Steven cleared his throat, sheepishly running a hand through his unruly locks. "I just got excited. I'm surprised you knew that. Not a lot of people do--or care."

"Well, I happen to know a fantastic teacher always talking about Egyptology." You giggled, grinning at him. "And thanks to him, he's caused me to become interested in it myself and do my own research."

"Really?!" The way his eyes lit up felt as if an arrow was shot straight to your heart, and if you didn't have any self-control you would've dropped to your knees and asked--begged--this gorgeous man to marry you right then and there. "Any particular god or goddess that you're most interested in?"

"Hmm..." You pursed your lips thoughtfully, and Steven had half a mind to kiss them senseless. "I'd have to say Khonshu."

'GOOD ANSWER. KEEP HER, WORM.' Khonshu's thundering voice suddenly boomed in Steven's head.

"She's not a dog, you stupid pigeon." Steven grumbled, rubbing his temples exasperatedly.

"Hm? Did you say something?"

"Nothing!" Steven answered quickly, forcing out a laugh. "Err, why Khonshu?"

"Well, I really like Astronomy!" You beamed. "And I find the moon to be one of the most beautiful things in our universe, so it feels fitting for my favourite Egyptian god to be Khonshu."

Despite Steven's distaste (to put it nicely) for the old bird, he could never find your response as such. Not when you looked so happy and comfortable sharing your interests with him, even though he did disagree with just one thing you said.

The moon doesn't even come close to being one of the most beautiful things this universe boasts. No, not when you existed.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

The alarm on your wristwatch cruelly popped the blissful little bubble you both were in, you turning it off as you saw that it was the end of your shift.

A regular person would be over the moon that they were finally free from their corporate prison, but not you. Not when you wished you could spend more time with Steven.

"Well..." Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, a pout forming on your lips. "Guess it's time for me to go home."

"It appears so..." Steven mumbled, his heart sinking to his stomach as he watched you put away the remaining items you were in charge of.

'It's now or never, Steven. Do something.' Jake urged.

'Do WHAT?'

'Fucking Christ, you're hopeless.' Jake sighed frustratedly, Steven's eyes rolling to the back of his head and his shoulders slumping. After a few seconds, he straightened up once more and approached you.

You were faced away from Steven, and you were having difficulty setting the final box of souvenirs you had on a shelf when Steven's hands reached from behind you and easily lifted them.

Your breath hitched, feeling his broad chest pressed against your back. He was so close you could feel his warm breath tickling the nape of your neck, making you gulp.

"T-Thank you, Steven..." You murmured meekly, feeling so small as he had you completely caged. You tried to turn, but his hands suddenly dropped to your hips; keeping you in place with a gentle but firm grip.

"You look so pretty today, Y/N." He leaned down, voice deliciously low as his lips ghosted just beneath your ear and a shiver ran down your spine. "But I think you can look even prettier. How 'bout tomorrow you dress all nice, and we can meet up around seven p.m. and have the best steak in town?"

Your thoughts were all jumbled up. Was this really happening or just another one of your silly fantasies? Where the hell did Steven get this sudden confidence from?

And, perhaps you were just imagining it, but he sounded...different. Not quite like the Steven you knew. He had an accent, but not the one you've gotten so familiar with and loved.

But the ache in your heart--and another part of you--was much too strong to bear. You've waited so long for this, dreamt of this, and it was finally coming true.

You definitely made the right decision to dress the way you did today and you sure as hell weren't going to let go of such a grand opportunity.

"I-I'd love to, but..." You placed your hands on top of his own still on your hips, and you wondered if he can tell just how embarrassingly sweaty your palms have gotten. "I...I know you're a vegan, Steven, so let's go somewhere else. There's a new restaurant that just opened and they've got vegan options. Um, y'know, if it's okay with you..."

The corners of his mouth tugged up into a smile and he couldn't stop himself as he nuzzled his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and revelling in your addicting scent.

"Perfect." He then spun you both around so that his back was against the shelf, but you still couldn't see him. His fingers slowly, teasingly trailed upwards along your stomach before reaching your blouse's breast pocket, slipping off your name tag and putting it in one of your hands. "I'll see you tomorrow, hermosa." He chuckled huskily, giving you a light push.

You were utterly dazed, cheeks flushed and stumbling in your steps slightly as you exited the room.

'What the bloody hell was THAT?!' Steven panicked.

"What do you think, ese?" Jake scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I just scored you a date."

'Well, I hope you're happy! Y/N looked so shocked!'

"I feel like a million dollars and Y/N looked like she liked it." Jake snickered. "Quit whining like a bitch and just be grateful, Steven. And hey, she even chose some hippie vegan place for you. Doesn't that prove she's into you?"

That immediately shushed Steven, and Jake can feel that despite Steven's complaining Steven was very much overjoyed and was already overthinking the date for tomorrow.

Jake looked down his hands, still remembering the soft curve of your hips even through your clothes and smirked.

You won't be wearing any for long now.

[pedgito]

summary | a story of how things began, where they ended up, and where they might go. a collection of patrols over the course of several months is forcing you closer to joel than you ever imagined, tense circumstances leading to hasty decisions and one bad choice after the next. [17k+]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no explicit use of y/n, set post s1 (but not specifically stated), lots of characters from the game (but not significant if you're unaware) grumpy!joel, friends (?) with benefits, sex under stress as a means for distraction (consensual), graphic depicition of an attack of raiders (it's brief, easy to skim over), a litany of sexual escapades (oral, unprotected, ect) semi-public sex (no one's around), orgasm denial, repressed emotions

author’s note | um, yeah. i had this idea back in february and had an outline that finally came to fruition over the past month. this was a serious labor of love and purely self-indulgence. if you make it through the entire thing, thank you! if this has typos please ignore. i proofread this like 4 times and i will cry

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

Patrolling with Joel was always something. Miserable when Joel was having a bad day, mildly enjoyable on the days where he managed to have enough coffee that morning when you weren't on the rotation for the shitty patrols that took hours to trek through in this weather, the snow halfway up your shins nearly everywhere.

It’s been a few months now and Joel is still who you favor going with over anyone else—he’s thoughtful, methodical, always watching over his shoulder for danger. And Joel does warm up to you eventually, but the reluctance in his eyes is always there. He’s seasoned in the art of surviving, avoiding connection when at all possible. He doesn’t talk to you for the first month out of simple answers or orders, helping you get accustomed to a route you haven’t run before, but small talk? It’s nonexistent.

Maybe that was for the best. 

Because the first time you find yourself pinned under his gaze, fingers clenched around your wrists in warning, the unseemly thoughts invade your brain.

He doesn’t sleep often during patrols, either. So, it’s a little intimidating when you find him curled up on top of his sleeping bag when he swore he was taking a quick break, resting the ache in his back that quickly melted into a deep slumber. You can’t dare to wake him up so soon after, seeing how peaceful he looked when he slept, almost at ease but still carrying that deep scowl, permanently on his features. It was a part of him.

Tommy and Jesse had arrived to rotate and relieve you guys back to Jackson, something that wasn’t out of the norm, but you find yourself battling with leaning over him, shaking him awake and disturbing his slumber. And on a dime, the moment your hand connects with his shoulder, Joel is awake—very awake and subduing you with little resistance, your leg forced hastily between his own, eyes dark and pensive from where he held himself above you.

“Joel, Joel—it’s just me,” You spit out in a panic, “Tommy and Jesse, they’re outside.”

You’re not sure what breaks his stupor, be it the panic in your voice or the terrified look on your face, he relents quickly, apologizing half-heartedly under his breath.

You release a tight breath when he finally lets go, rising up slowly as he does, grabbing your pack without a word, as does he, watching as he rolled up his sleeping bag, something you’ve seen him do a million times before, but he feels you watching him, almost hesitant to speak now.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks lowly, the thickness of sleep in his voice.

“No, um—“ You shake your head, rubbing the skin of your wrist absently, “I guess I should’ve been more careful, but you fell asleep and I figured you needed it.”

He looks even more apologetic, more so for his actions but for also leaving you up alone, not that it really mattered to you. It was an easy patrol spot in the watchtower— it never caused trouble, so falling asleep was the least of your worries. 

You shrug when his eyes glance over your slightly hunched frame, shivering from the cold but an arm clutching around your middle. It’s defensive, a subconscious movement that Joel doesn’t even think you realize you’re doing.

He shouldn’t feel shitty about it, but he does. Still, he won’t admit that out loud.

“Next time I’ll keep six feet and poke you with a stick,” You joke, “kinda like waking a bear.”

You smile when Joel huffs reluctantly, a subtle motion of his chest as he chuckles. It’s faint, but you see the involuntary quirk at the corner of his mouth as he shoved his sleeping bag into his pack and rose to his feet.

“Hey, you’ve still got decent reflexes,” You shrug, passing him by with the soft scuffle of your feet, shoulders rubbing against each other awkwardly as you turn toward him over your left shoulder, his body too close for his own comfort, “for an old guy.”

He scoffs at the implication, though any maliciousness in his expression is void, “Old?”

He knows it’s the truth, he just hates the implication. He’s weaker, but not any less that man he was than that he is now. He watches your face scrunch up in amusement, a soft laugh slipping past your lips. 

“Joel, I’m fucking with you,” You tell him, the tense in his brow relaxing slightly, “it’s gonna be a long ride back, isn’t it?”

“Ah, don’t know—think you can handle travelin’ with the old guy for a few hours?”

Joel doesn’t divert to humor often, but when he does, it’s a sweet sight, that rough exterior cracking under your gaze more often. 

“Please,” You puff your lips out in a quick huff, yanking your back over your shoulder, “I can handle you just fine.”

Once you got to know him, it was actually quite easy.

Joel nods his chin forward silently, ignoring your teasing for the time being, a long ride ahead of you and not nearly enough patience on his end to deal with your antics.

And you try to ignore how intensely his touch lingered on your skin, rubbing the tender spot on your wrist during the long ride back to Jackson. 

Joel keeps his distance behind you, but he sees it—the subtle look over your shoulder every now and then, your eyes lingering with him when he forces eye contact.

It’s only the start of what was to come, something neither of you were prepared for.

*

The rotation is adequately simple over the first few months, keeping the pairings fair by filtering them out evenly—Ellie is fun to be around, a lot more relaxed and less jaded by everything. She keeps things light, always bringing along her comics for extra entertainment or spending her time drawing you or whatever she could find, something to keep her busy when things get boring. And she talks, freely, to you—something Joel never did. Besides, Ellie kept up to date on the town drama, so in turn, so did you. 

And Tommy is, well, Tommy. He’s efficient, likes to do his rounds, sign the patrol sheet, scope the area, then spend the rest of the night or day relaxing away when things aren't going awry. He talks about before—his job, how people lived in Austin, the summer cookouts in the neighborhoods that you were never privy to. Tommy’s nice, you’ve always liked him. It was Joel who proved to be the difficult one, something Tommy would wholeheartedly agree with.

Eventually you find yourself paired up with Joel more often than you’re used to, now Ellie would stick to patrols with Dina when she could, occasionally Jesse. She always complains when she has to ride with Joel, something about:

“We live together, but we’re not attached at the fuckin’ hip.”

Joel doesn’t complain, his hesitancy toward letting Ellie take more responsibility waning by the day when he realizes how well she holds her own.

You take the patrol further west, a lodge that he and Tommy cleared out some months prior when you were still new—you’ve only ran into infected there once, end of the summer, but Joel cleared them out no problem. 

It seemed like an easy patrol. It was. Joel even seems a little more cheerful than usual, making comments to some of the information you were relaying to him that Ellie told you, some pointless gossip to fill the lull.

“It’s why I mind my business,” Joel speaks over the soft trollop as you ride alongside him, “nothin’ good comes from stickin’ your nose where you shouldn’t,” his head turns, eyes glancing over your frame briefly, shrugging his shoulders in an effort to loosen them, “it only breeds more problems.”

“I’m just the messenger,” You shrug, “I keep to myself—you know that.”

He does. He finds the shyness endearing in a way, a contrast from how exuberant Ellie could be when he spent patrols with her. It’s why things worked so well with you—you respected his space, he respected yours. 

“Remind me to check that guitar place for those strings Ellie’s been buggin’ about,” Joel tells you, “I’ll hit it before we leave.”

“She’s improved a lot,” You compliment, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “props to her teacher, I suppose.”

Joel shakes his head, emitting a bit of fondness every time he talks about Ellie, “That kid is determined. I don’t think she would’ve needed my help either way.”

“You know,” Your tone bleeds something teasing, putting Joel on edge as he tilts his head your way, looking expectantly, “she said you’re a pretty good singer.”

Joel opens his mouth for a beat before snapping it shut, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to sing,” You promise, “but—I don’t know, just didn’t pin you as the type.”

“I’ve got a type about me?” Joel seems dully interested, a soft smirk on his face as he yields the reins to a stop, leading you to follow suit as you both guide the horses to the makeshift stable tucked away on the side of the building, gathering your things before you make your way inside.

You leave Joel in a curious silence until you’re able to relax, closing the doors behind you with a heavy shove once Joel has done his quick walk-through, the fireplace setting unlit in the middle of the room looking all too appealing right now. 

“Look, I’ll just keep askin’,” Joel says, clapping his hands together deftly to grab your attention, throwing the lighter stuffed into your coat pocket at his waiting hands, cupped as he catches it with ease, setting up a fire that crackles to life instantly, “first I’m an old man, now you’re judgin’ me, doesn’t really seem fair now does it?”

It’s the most he’s talked to you before, suddenly invested in getting an answer out of you. It’s playful, his intention, and you can’t help but find it a little enjoyable to watch him squirm. You take a seat around the circular fire pit, feet propped up against the brick surrounding it, hands laying flat over you stomach, jacket unzipped but still snug on your body.

“You’re a big grump all the time,” You tell him honestly, his face morphing into something indecipherable, “—Ellie’s words, not mine.”

You hold a finger up, pointing in his direction.

“But, she’s not wrong.” It earns a subtle shrug, Joel’s arms stalling over the back of the couch that wrapped around the fire pit, a few feet away from you still. “I’m just saying, most of the people in town who enjoy that stuff—you know, music and all that. They’re loud about it, a little showboaty if you ask me.”

“What? I’m not loud enough for you?” 

He was loud when he needed to be. Directive and strong, aggressive to anyone who may cause him harm or anyone he cares about—you’ve seen it a few times, but never on the side of it being just you and him. Part of you is thankful for that, but you can’t help the wanted to feel that type of fierce protection aimed toward you.

You snort softly, “Forget it, Joel. It’s a nice surprise, I bet you have a great voice.” It’s free of any teasing or ill-intent of riling him up. A true compliment, one that cracks Joel’s surface, just barely.

Joel hits you softly in the chest with a bag of jerky a while later, chewing on a piece quietly as he rests, neck hung against the back of the couch, eyes closed. The heat creeps in slowly, forcing you to strip down a few layers—jacket first, then your sweater, down to just your jeans and shirt, wiggling your feet out of your snow boots in hopes that they’ll dry by the fire quicker. 

And truthfully, your bored out of your mind. It was hard to stay dormant like this, holed up in a place for an extended period of time with nothing to do but entertain yourself—and because Joel was about as entertaining as watching wet paint dry, you took the initiative into your own hands.

“Have you ever played pool?” Your voice slices through the thick silence, one of Joel’s eyes peeking open curiously, head still reclined back. “I’ve been dying to try this out since Tommy found those balls a few months ago.”

“It’s been years,” He mumbles lowly, tapping his fingers against the back of his right palm, “—what about you?”

“Not a chance, Joel,” You reply, voice oozing with a flippant vagrancy, “I was fifteen when the outbreak happened, I’ve never even stepped foot into a bar, let alone some place like this.”

Even now, twenty years into a world that had crumbled to the ground, the lodge still held up nice.

Normally you would expect Joel to make up some excuse, roll over on his side or lay down and pretend he was asleep or keep watch by the door, his demeanor never faltering for more than a second, clipped answers to your question. But, that was Joel wasn’t here now.

He’s warmed up to you, partially—but you could tell there was still a long way to go. He still keeps his distance, less of a chance to bump into your or accidentally brush shoulders. It makes you feel forlorn, like maybe you had scared him by how you reacted, eyes wide and terrified underneath him. 

Truthfully, Joel doesn’t want to scare you again. He couldn’t handle it. Not with how reluctantly fond he’s grown of you, something he kept close to his chest and didn’t dare tell a soul. He’s got his own justifications for it. 

“We can play a game,” Joel suggests, “it’ll kill some time, I guess.”

Joel didn’t need to know how easy it would be for you to play him under the table, having spent most of your time around the guys at the bar who like to hustle bets for pool. They never stood a chance. And Joel never frequented The Tipsy Bison outside of parties thrown for the community as a group (and that was still rare), always dragged along by Ellie or Tommy. They were insufferable to attend. 

You could share the sentiment. 

“Any bets?” You tease, stripping the pool cues off the wall and handing it to him as he approaches, strip down to a similar state as well, tanned skinned under a navy blue shirt, wearing the jeans he seemed to never take off and boots that were barely holding on. 

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Joel decides, “I’ve got nothin’ in mind anyways.”

“God, you’re no fun,” You pout, pulling an eye roll from Joel, his eyes flicking toward the ground briefly as he reconsidered, “come on—anything.”

“Jesus—uh, I don’t know,” He chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully, “huh, how about the loser just owes the other a favor?”

You blow a raspberry with your tongue, “Lame,” You tease further, but his quick switch to defeat has his arm slumping at his side forcing you to reassess, “—fine, fine. A favor is fair, I’m running low on those anyways.”

It’s a small hint at your competitive nature, something Joel is clueless to pick up on, guiding you through the basics of the game with ease—you listen intently despite how badly you were going to destroy him, the stakes surprisingly high.

A favor. For anything. 

The small crack of a smile on Joel’s face is enough of a reward as he watches you attempt to break the set, barely tapping the center as it rolls back slowly, your face scrunching up in annoyance. 

“Oh, fuck you,” You scoff playfully, “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Joel shakes his head in a blatant attempt at lying, heaving his cue up to show you his stance, “Keep your dominant hand on the end and your other near the type, you’ve just gotta guide it through with some force.”

You feign innocence, switching the cue to your dominant side, though still looking visibly uncomfortable and rigid. 

Joel thinks it over in his hand, rehashing his decision making a million times over until he’s resting the pool cue aside and joining your side, hesitant as he brings his hands to your elbows from behind, keeping a careful distance.

“Keep your arm a little further back,” He pulls at your dominant arm, thick fingers wrapping around your bicep, his body leaned forward slightly to adjust the other when he can’t reach, spreading your fingers to wrap around the other end, tucking your thumb under the cue gently at wrapping your index over the top, “it’s almost like you’re holding a pencil, if that helps. Sort of.”

You nod slightly, his touch lingering lightly as he leaned over you, pointing toward the center of the table, “Just use that hand as a guide, don’t grip it too tight and let the cue follow through. Here, try it.”

He crowds you in slowly, aiding you in the force of your cue as he guides it back and through with a sharpness, hitting the ball dead center and the rest of them scattering as a result.

“Just like that.” He praises, a softness to him that wasn’t there before when speaks over your shoulder. You roll your shoulders insignificantly, nodding at his response.

He notes how unbothered you are this way, in this situation compared to the latter, his touch guiding and soft compared to rough, suffocating, the force he only used in situations where his opponent wasn’t going to make it out alive.

Joel parts without so much as a word, shifting into his typical stance, favoring his right leg as it bends slightly, using the cue for support as he leaned into it. “Got it?”

You nod silently, feeling warm all over, too warm. It’s your own fault, really—not a soul to blame but yourself. To be fair, you didn’t think Joel would bother to take the bait. But he did, almost too eagerly. It was enough to mentally knock you on your ass, leaving you to play the rest of the game with a cloudy mind filled with how warm his touch felt against your bare skin, craving a touch you haven’t felt in months. It’s pathetic, but you can’t help it. 

Joel sinks the last ball with finality, slapping his hand against the felt table in triumph, a surprising show of emotion for someone so sullen as him. He was full of surprises you were quickly finding out.

“M’sorry, darlin’.” He tells you, sounding authentically apologetic, “I don’t expect you to owe me any favors.”

“Screw that,” You shake your head stubbornly, annoyed at how easily you let him get the better of you, “one more.”

“I’m not sure if that’s—“

“One. More.” You tell him adamantly, reracking the balls without an answer, nodding pointedly toward the table, “Pick a pocket.”

Joel’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion, “You want to play one-pocket? How the hell do you even know about—I thought you said you’ve never played.”

“Joel, pick a damn pocket.” 

You don’t choke this time, letting him take the first hit, watch the ball sink, and the next one he misses. 

You don’t miss, one turn after the other passing him up as you sink them in succession.

He stares at you with wide eyes, nose flared like he’s going to laugh, mouth spread into a subtle smile, his teeth peeking through.

“You’re a fuckin’ pool shark, aren’t you?” Joel questions, tossing the pool cue aside. “That was goddamn impressive, I’ll give you that.”

“How do you think I score the steak sandwiches for our routes over the tuna and cheese?” You ask redundantly, “I’ve played Tommy under the table enough times that he won’t even play for fun anymore.”

“Well,” Joel shrugs, “guess we both owe each other favors, don’t we?”

You could care less about the favors now, battling with the conflicting feelings as you stared at the man ahead of you, seeming like a completely different person to you now. He's acting nothing like the sulky man you walk by every day in Jackson.

“Shit—one more,” Joel insists, “no holdin’ back on each other. No bets, just braggin’ rights.”

Joel never hears the end of it that night, falling asleep to the faint giggle of victory.

Another few weeks later and things are even more different. 

You spot Joel from a mile away, tucked against the corner of the bar with wistful eyes downturned toward his drink, the ice in the glass swashing alongside the dark whiskey. The squeal of a couple kids and their scattering feet as they ram into you and pull your attention away, guiding them away to safety and out of the crowd with a gentle hand, a pair of apologetic parents waiting off to the side.

He must’ve seen the interaction halfway through, smirking with amusement as you approach, though still eerily silent. 

Your friendship since the pool game has blossomed slowly, he jokes with you more often, shares his food when he hears your stomach growl, no matter how much you refuse. He even talks about his hobbies, things he enjoys, and it feels like he’s less of an enigma now. Real, tangible, someone you can make a connection with.

He still keeps his distance, mostly—the pool game was a fluke, a split second decision he hadn’t thought through and fully regretted after the fact. He’s gone from tackling you to the ground in fear to feeling you up for a good shot and that just doesn’t sit right with him, but he never apologizes. He can’t find it in him to embarrass himself further, figuring that by getting his ass kicked at pool was already punishment enough.

But, it doesn’t help that he always finds himself in situations that end up with him closer than he intended—he can’t tell if you’re being intentional about it anymore, but tonight, it’s all you.

“Damn, who dragged you out of the house?” You ask, a huff of a laugh muffled by the glass that tips to his lips, your fingers drumming silently against the bar as you asked for a beer, smiling at a familiar face. “Wait, let me guess—Ellie?”

Joel shakes his head honestly.

“Shit—Tommy?”

“No.”

“Maria forced Tommy to force you to show up?” Joel actually has a laugh at that, the idea not that far-fetched, but it’s another wrong answer.

“Joel Miller—“ Your finger wags in his face, landing on the center of his chest as you sip from your own drink with your opposite hand, “did you actually wander out of your house on your own free will?”

Guilty as charged. Joel would never make decisions like this, but he knew you would be there—and goddamnit, he couldn’t help it. He’s dressed incredibly suave too, a clean, slick dress shirt that works well on him, a nice change from his usual thick coats and plaid button ups. 

“Hey, brother,” Tommy claps a hand down on Joel’s shoulder warmly, flashing you his trademark grin, teeth and all, “ma’am.”

You grimace at the word, “God, Tommy—you gotta stop calling me that.”

“Sorry, habit.” He chuckles before glancing over at Joel briefly, eyes connecting with yours in question, “So, what are we thinkin’—hell finally freeze over?”

“Seems that way.” 

You play along, teasing Joel with no reluctance, enjoying the pinched look on his face as he downs the whiskey.

“Well, sorry Joel, but I came to steal her away for a dance,” He informs Joel, jabbing his thumb in your direction, “it is tradition, after all.”

Joel didn’t know that, of course. How could he?

Tommy always takes a minute or two to dance with you, one of his favorite songs being played by the band of townspeople—Maria doesn’t enjoy dancing as much either, spending most of her time mingling and helping out where it was needed, it’s an easy compromise. 

It’s an upbeat song, something country that you can’t be bothered to memorize the words of, but it’s all big twists and twirls, dancing with little precision and more for pure enjoyment than anything else.

Joel tries not to stare, he does. But, it’s nearly impossible. It starts at your face, lingering as he savored that huge smile plastered across it, arm flying above your head as Tommy spun you, squealing in joy. Eventually it travels elsewhere, lower and lower, until Joel can’t help but keep his gaze stuck on the curve of your jeans, the way the denim cups your ass perfectly. 

And it feels wrong, almost demeaning, but you don’t seem to have a care in the world, turning on your heels and to Joel suddenly, who’s already straightened up by then and shoving his glass away, poised to make his excuse to leave until you’re bounding toward him, hand outstretched as Tommy watches from the side, hands settled on his hips. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

“Come on, Joel.” You try to persuade, using a grabby motion with your hands as you approach him closer, bordering on shoving yourself between the bar top and his legs, “Just one dance.”

“Darlin’ I don’t—“ His refusal is imminent, obvious in your eyes. But, you’ve got a trick up your sleeve that he’d never hear the end of if he denied you. 

“My favor,” You play your cards, “I’m cashing’ in.”

You cock your head to the side, awaiting his answer with a pointed look, satisfied smile creeping onto your face as he sighs, letting you take his hand in reluctance as you pull him to your feet.

Joel’s at least thankful the tempo of the song is slower, but that leads to a minacious closeness he wasn’t prepared for, your delicate set of fingers resting over his shoulder, the other slack in his hand. He settles one against your waist, touching cautiously light and his other hand enveloping your own.

“This is a waste of a favor, you know.” Joel comments off-handedly, his eyes dragging toward the floor as he swayed to the gentleness of the music, dancing with an ease that still stuck with him, even after all these years.

“I don’t think so,” You shrug, “I get a dance, you’re no longer in debt to me, seems like a win win.”

Joel shakes his head with a fondness, eyes flicking up toward you briefly as he bows his head, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he seems to relax, realizing that the only eyes on him were you now, Tommy having gone off to search for Maria.

“All these other guys and you want to dance with the old man,” Joel starts, “how’d you come to that decision?”

“You’re never letting that go,” You roll your eyes half-heartedly, pulling him in closer on a whim, trading your current position for one where your arms rest of his shoulders, fingers interlocking behind his neck loosely, his own hands adjusting against your hip more casually, fingers dancing over the sliver of bare skin from where your shirt had started to rise, “can I tell you a secret, Joel?”

“It’s not a secret if you tell me,” He counters slyly, “besides, I’m terrible at keeping ‘em.”

And blame it on the lingering remnants of his second whiskey, but you can feel his fingers drag against your skin, finding home under the fabric of your shirt, his expression never changing—but it feels like a test, like he’s waiting for you to have a reaction. There’s not a word traded during the subtle interaction, ignoring his actions as you spoke.

“I’d choose you over any of those guys,” You say, a rawness that bleeds truth, Joel doesn’t have to second guess you, he sees it, “and Seth is way older than you and a prick, give yourself some fuckin’ credit, Joel.”

Joel settles quietly, shaking his head at your soft outburst. It shouldn’t surprise him, your shared devotion having grown over the past few weeks, small moments that made Joel second guess everything he’s taught himself to be.

Distant, hard, cold. But with you, it just wasn’t possible anymore. At least, not lately. 

“And,” You sing, wiggling excitedly under his grip, “I may have saved your ass for patrol tomorrow.”

Joel looks at you expectantly, pulling you in closer when a quick pass of two rowdy kids has you stumbling forward. 

You laugh at the sudden change in motion, hands slapping against his chest to keep you steady. He doesn’t try and move you away, which is surprising. But, you don’t try to move either, enjoying the slow guide of your chest against his as you sway to the music.

“Tommy’s takin’ coverage with Eugene,” You tell him, “I know how much you hate patrolling with him.”

Joel huffs out a laugh, “I don’t hate him, he’s just—“

“Talkative? A little too cheery for you?” You ask, leaning your head back an inch to examine his face fully, “Damn, I guess I’m not much of an improvement, either.”

“Now, I didn’t say that.” Joel responds defensively, though his face is still relaxed.

“Then?” You tease.

“Let me ask you,” Joel switches things around, “You’d rather patrol with Tommy over me?”

You shrug before thinking about it for a moment, actually thinking—and no, you wouldn’t. “No, guess not.”

“Why?” He questions, putting you on the spot.

“You’re prettier to look at,” You say with a nonchalance, “and Tommy really likes to reminisce, like…a lot.”

Joel snorts a quiet laugh at that.

“So, you see my issue with Eugene then.” Joel brings the conversation to a head, watching as a smirk appears on your face, realizing his mistake in real time.

“Hold on— that’s why you enjoy our patrols so much?” You turn your head into your shoulder to hide your laugh, quickly gathering yourself to tease him further, “Because, I’m prettier to look at and I keep my mouth shut?”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, ignoring your question. “You do realize where we’re going tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Of course, we’re stationed out at the dam.” You respond casually, “It’s not that bad, Joel.”

It’s the one place you and Joel haven’t had the opportunity to patrol together, always paired up with someone else—it’s a cramped spot, loud, and uncomfortably cold at this time of year no matter how many fires you set. Plus, it’s a lot of leg work to check the dam, making sure it’s still in good working condition. It’s what powered Jackson, without it, you wouldn’t be dancing with Joel right now, let alone even allowed the luxury of having a weekend to unwind and enjoy the party. 

Joel looks hesitant.

“What?” You pry, “Don’t like the idea of being stuck in a tiny room with me for that long, one bed, nowhere to sulk off into a corner?”

If anyone else had approached him like this, it would’ve ended in a broken jaw—his own internalized anger getting the best of him. But, it’s you. And he knows you’re right. 

You squeeze in closer, leaving barely any room between you now that the center of the hall was filled with other dancing bodies, shifting Joel’s hands down over your ass, the tips of his fingers adjusting over the curve and leaving little to imagination as he can feel every ridge and curve of your body, his solid chest against your own. 

Your heart clenches at the idea that he might pull away, something akin to a bad sting and finally give up on his attempt at being sociable—he doesn’t move an inch.

Doesn’t say a word.

In fact, his gaze is even more intense now than it was before, edged with a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I’ll sulk wherever I feel like it.” Joel retorts, falling into his usual scowl. “It’s probably about time we turn in for the night, don’t you think?”

You blink slowly, gaze never faltering. There’s a darkness behind his eyes, something still undiscovered. You nod blanky, but secretly acquiesce what he’s about to say.

“Long day tomorrow,” You agree, the shift in the air evident to the both of you, an innocent attempt at pulling some enjoyment out of Joel devolving into something dangerous and uncharted, “I’ll see you bright and early, yeah?”

“I’ll walk you back,” Joel insists, “maybe my sulkin’ will scare those boys who’ve been eyeing you all night.”

“I can handle myself, Joel.” He knows it—doesn’t make his offer any less tempting, though. He was a protector, you liked being protected. It was a devious offer that would find you in trouble soon, but you relent, accepting his help. He doesn’t make the first move, leaving you to take that step.

Joel doesn’t realize how badly he’s craved to touch you until he was, the second he laid his hands on you it was over for him—and he hates himself for letting you in, letting you wear him down. Joel’s close behind as you turn, navigating your way through the crowd quietly.

“Never said you couldn’t, sweetheart.” 

Your breath catches in your throat.

There’s a hammering in your chest that doesn’t calm the entire way back toward your house, a small street near the edge of the town, a few houses away from the one he shared with Ellie.

You clear your throat awkwardly, a thickness there that crept up on you, watching as Joel shoved his hands into his front pockets, leaning on his better leg, always favoring the left.

“I can ask Tommy to switch things back if you’re really bothered,” You remind him gently, wondering if that was why he seemed so bothered now, his face brooding and flat, “I won’t get my feelings hurt, I promise.”

But inside Joel’s head, his mind is filtering through a thousand bad decisions to make, every one of them involving you. 

“No,” He tells you surely, “You’re doing me a favor—shit, so I guess that means you don’t owe me anymore, actually.”

You shrug slightly, “Keep it, this one’s free.”

Joel has an inclination that you wouldn’t do that for just anyone, watching your face morph into a tired smile.

“Careful,” He teases, “you’re goin’ soft on me.”

You snort softly, ignoring the still burning tingle that lingered on your skin long after Joel’s touch disappeared. It was the same ache you felt the first time he touched you, tackled you to the ground and kept you pinned under his grip. He hasn’t gotten much better, still jerking awake in most situations, but you’ve learned to keep your distance. 

“Sorry,” You slip your hands into your back pockets, your thick jumper pulling tight over your chest, “didn’t realize that was a bad thing.”

Joel shakes his head slightly, still lingering on your doorstep despite himself. Old Joel would hightail it home, old Joel wouldn’t have even offered to walk you back to begin with—but, here he was. 

“I should turn in.” You tell him, his subtle nod in response.

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea.” Joel agrees, “long day ahead of us.”

The clipped responses are feeding a tension you don’t realize until you’re both still standing there, unmoving, swaying with the gentle breeze and somehow feeling warm all over while still surrounded by the bitter cold.

And there’s a quick flash that invades your mind, even while stone cold sober, that has you twitching under his gaze. He sees it, clocks it with his eyes. 

There’s no indication that he’s attempting to get a reaction out of you, just lingering in wait, waiting for you.

You never make a move to open your door or walk inside and that’s what he’s waiting for, to see you home safe. It’s the whole reason he walked you back, wasn’t it?

Joel says your name quietly, a beckon to bring your attention back to the surface, drowning in your own thoughts but your gaze never faltering, stuck on him. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” He asks.

It’s a question that has too many answers. And it’s a test too, wondering if you’ll slip up and speak on what you’re trying so hard to hold back.

Too much—is what you should say.

You—is what you want to say.

But instead, you act. That itching feeling overflowing and forcing you to make haste decisions, tired of hearing his voice in the back of your mind, how easily it drove you crazy. The endearing twang that echoed in your head all day long, even when he was miles away. 

And you find that Joel is almost expecting it, his hand cupping your face gently, warming the skin as you press in to kiss him cautiously, top lip slotting over his bottom and relaxing, your opposite hand mirroring his own. 

It feels too tender, like suddenly Joel is just as breakable as you—it’s terrifying. You pull away suddenly, coming to your senses, wide eyes staring him down. He looks calm.

You hate it.

It feels embarrassing.

He expected it, or at least anticipated it. You can see it on his face.

“Goodnight.” He tells you tenderly, sounding upset with himself but avoiding the choice to make things weird and you’re forever grateful.

You release a soft breath, nodding absently.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

You turn on your heels and enter your house, finally. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change Tommy’s mind.

It was.

Joel was already waiting by the gates by the time you arrived, food and supplies secured in your bag for the road, two rifles slung securely over his shoulders as he held the reins to the horses, both of them neighing impatiently. 

“All good?” Joel asks, avoiding the obvious air of unspoken instances surrounding you two. 

You nod confidently, taking the reins away silently.

“All set,” You assure him, guiding your foot through the saddle and mounting the horse, settling yourself as he followed suit, “you?”

Joel echoes your response.

You sigh internally, a deep annoyance settling into your bones. Annoyed with yourself, annoyed with Joel. Just annoyed, wholly and plainly. 

Joel didn’t need to admit that he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night prior—he already had enough trouble sleeping on a normal night, but you in his head? That didn’t help.

And it flooded into the morning, still, Joel watching your body sway and rock slowly from the motion of the horse, head tucked away slightly to counter the breeze that prickled your cheeks. 

When you finally make it to the dam he breaks the silence, slipping the reins from your hand and nodding toward the front entrance, “I’ll tie ‘em up if you want to settle and sign us in, you can get a fire going?”

He’s asking, not telling. You nod, hopping down carefully and unhooking your bag from the saddle.

“I’ll scream if I need help.” It’s a joke in poor taste.

Joel doesn’t take it too lightly, scowling in response.

“Sorry,” You apologize lamely, “bad joke.”

“Be careful,” Joel stresses, face softening, “keep your gun out until you’ve done a once over of the place.”

*

It feels like fate is fucking with you, most days. Dangling your life in front of its prey and savoring the outcome, because even with your gun poised carefully at your hip, knife tucked into the strap at your thigh, it doesn’t prepare you for what’s waiting on the other side of that door.

There’s a split second where you think you can talk things down, buy you some time so Joel could get here and settle their nerves, but they’re already on high alert, as are you, and there’s no time to think.

Plus, they don’t seem to be keen on listening.

“Grab her,” The burly man says, blunt weapon held tight in his grip as he goes for your arm, the other man forcing you to the ground with a harsh gasp escaping your chest as your back hits the concrete floor, “just gut her—fuckin’ do it.”

Your brain shuts off, realizing that your strength isn’t nearly matched with theirs, your shrill scream cutting through the commotion.

“Joel!” You tell, hoping he’ll hear, dodging the hand that comes your way to muffle your yells, barking out an even more broken, “Jooooel!”

Your gun is long gone, tossed away in a corner with your hand pinned under someone’s knees, eyes squeezed shut as you struggle for the knife around your thigh blindly. They didn’t have the wits or common sense to strip you properly before they were attacking you, the younger one hesitating at the other’s words.

“I thought you said we were just tyin’ her up.” He responds, sounding panicked. 

You grab the knife successfully and pierce it through the young one’s gut with a sickening squish, a garbled groan ripping from his throat—and a rush of a shadow overhead as Joel wrested the other down, coming in from the door on the opposite side of the room, fists connecting with the attackers face with a sickening crunch.

The rage overtakes quickly, adrenaline flooding your body as you shove the man away, pulling the knife out to sink back in once, twice, until the blood fills his mouth and spills over, lifeless eyes staring back.

Your chest heaves with a breath, adjusted your clothes from where they had been pushed aside in the tackle, tossing your knife aside and putting enough distance between your body and the one who’s your killed, watching as Joel sunk the tip of his own knife through the throat of the larger man, draining the life from him in an instant. 

Joel has a ferocity in his eyes when they land on you, tossing his knife to the side momentarily as he rises, towering over the body beneath him. He can't be angry with you—he can't.

“Grab your gun,” He tells you, ignoring how easily the rage would have overtaken his body in most situations, buring it away for the moment when he sees how badly you’re shaken up (it wasn't fear, not even close—more like rage), moving around rigidly to grab your gun off the floor, “knife too—then sit down.”

“But the—the bodies, Joel,” Joel can hear the uncertainty in your voice, shaking his head insistently, “we’ve gotta go back—tell Tommy, let them know.”

Joel shakes out his muscles, adjusting his thick leather jacket around his frame and steps over the dead body, moving to stand in front of you, touching you for the first time since last night. It’s not soft or gentle, more leading in an effort to get your attention and pull you out of your gaze, his fingers cupping your jaw, chin falling in the curve where his thumb and pointer finger connect. 

You wonder how many times he's done this before—how he'd come to learn to calm people down through his intense eye contact and grounding voice. He could mask his emotions for the sake of others, even when they were threatening to boil over.

“I’ve got it, I’ll take care of this—” His eyes never left yours, eyebrows raising in question as he awaited your acknowledgment, a small nod coming from you, “go wash the blood off and come straight back, okay?”

You nod again, deftly, eyes empty and void of emotion.

“Hey,” Joel calls out, pulling your attention back, “I need you with me—you with me?”

“Yeah—yes,” You mumble weakly, ignoring how tenderly his thumb rubbed the junction of your jaw at the admittance, something you’re sure he wasn’t even aware he was doing, “I’m with you.” 

“Go.” He instructs, releasing his hold on you.

His face morphs into resentment as you leave.

He should've stuck by your side. But, then he thinks back to the joke you made in passing and it fuels the anger more.

*

Joel’s taken care of the bodies by the time you returned, shrugging off his own jacket as he yanked the door closed, barricading it closed with the vacant table stuff in the corner of the room, letting his own paranoia get the better of him. It wasn’t a crime to be too safe, not anymore.

“If they’ve got a group they’ll come here looking for ‘em,” Joel tells you, “but somethin’ tells me we won’t have to worry about that.”

“So, no fire then?” 

Joel shakes his head, nodding toward the few camping lateens left haphazardly on a desk, “We’ll use those tonight, better to be safe.”

He would have to explain this to Tommy when he saw him, put the town back on high alert for a while and go to sleep every night worrying that someone was going to snatch his family away again—snatch Ellie away, snatch you away. It was another problem, another stressor, but none of that was new to him. 

“I’m gonna do a walkthrough,” He tells you, cocking his gun loudly, a little unnecessarily in your opinion, but his anger is still there, radiating off of him, “keep your gun out and shoot at anything you see that isn’t me.”

He doesn’t want you letting your guard down, which is why his apprehension to relax is valid. You nod quietly, sinking in on yourself as you take a seat on the old, torn up couch.

He’s gone for an hour or two, the sun nearly nonexistent outside now, lamps scattered around the room and bathing you in a low light, gun still clutched in your hand on your lap, safety off.

Joel knocks on the door shortly after, startling you to near death. You hated being jumpy like this, nothing to calm your nerves. You’d always prided yourself for being able to handle yourself in situations like that and you couldn’t explain why you froze—but deep down, you knew.

It was Joel. Worry for him when he wasn’t there, what threat might be awaiting him if they could get the jump so easily on you. You stumble to your feet and pull the door open, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the mattress in Joel’s grip.

“Tommy must’ve moved it last time—he doesn’t like sleepin’ when he’s on watch down here.”

You open the door wider, letting him inside and taking the opposite end to help with the weight, settling the mattress up against the edge of the couch and shifting the folded blankets down onto the surface, crouching down onto your knees with a soft sigh as you spread out the blankets.

You don’t realize Joel is watching you until you chance a glance up his way, wondering if this was the moment he’d let you have and berate you until he was blue in the face. 

You’ve witnessed it once, with Jesse. He’d nearly risked Ellie’s life on a patrol that should’ve been easy—he still seems a little jumpy in Joel’s presence, rightfully so.

“Look at me,” Joel beckons, adding your name in a demand to grab your attention, “you with me?”

And it breaks you, what little patience you have left in your body.

“Yes, Joel. I am right fucking here.” You snip back at him, throwing the blankets down and standing to full height. You’re tired of his act, hidden behind his pathetic excuse of a kind guise, wanting him to say what he really felt. When he looked at you earlier, hovering over that man’s body, all you could see was contempt. He was upset with you—upset that you allowed yourself to be in danger, ignoring his lectures time and time again, that you weren’t mindful of your surroundings, upset with himself that he wasn’t there from the beginning. 

Joel looks offended, like maybe you wounded his ego or something similar, his hand held up defensively.

“You’re the one over there shakin’ like a leaf,” Joel accuses, “I told you to keep your damn gun out, told you to be careful—don’t you try and take that anger out on me.”

“Jesus, Joel,” You cry out in desperation, “careful? Two against one and you’re telling me I wasn’t careful? Fuck you.”

You toss your gun and knife sheath aside for good measure, stripping out of your coat and extra winter layers, his hardened gaze stuck on you. 

“I’ll take first watch.” You tell him flatly, reaching for the lantern on the table beside the door that led to the rest of the plant, a maze of halls and room. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

Joel knows that if he lets you leave, there is no repairing what little relationship you had—it would return to a tolerance rather than anything else. His hand wraps around your closed fist, forcing the latent back down as he moves to stand in front of you, head tilted your way.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes, though it feels unsympathetic coming from him, and he’s blaming it on his tone, “okay?”

“It doesn’t matter, Joel.” You tell him adamantly. “You said it, it’s done. I’ll let Tommy know you don’t think I can handle myself anymore and you can keep running patrols without me. That’s what you want, right?”

Joel scoffs.

Say no, please say no. 

“What are you getting at?” Joel challenges.

“The first time I make a mistake—one that almost kills me and all you can think to do is shift the blame on me? That somehow I’m responsible for not handling it myself?”

He shifts slightly, jaw clenching as he moves his outstretched hand to rest against the doorframe, blocking you from the exit. 

“You never let me go alone,” You remind him, “why all the sudden today?”

Joel doesn’t answer. He knows why. He trusted you, trusted that you could handle it. Joel knows you’re not the one to blame, but he can’t battle with his internal guilt of putting you in that position, letting it come out in bursts of wrath.

You lean in slightly, his eyes mindful of your body language, shoving a finger into his chest roughly.

“Why isn’t it your fault, huh?” You ask, baiting a reaction out of him before you can’t stand the look on his face, mouth shut tight as he his eyes trace your movements, the soft brown irises now an encroaching darkness.

You scoff, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” It’s a snide comment that has you feeling a surge of confidence that you’ve finally rendered him speechless.  “Don’t act like you haven’t been bothered being around me all day—if the kiss bothered you that much you should’ve just told Tommy to switch out. Now, move.”

Joel doesn’t budge.

Now your patience is wearing then, reaching to shove his forearm out of the way, but he’s as solid as steel and doesn’t take too lightly to your touch, gripping your wrist and pulling it back in a harsh grip, one that has your face grimacing in pain.

“Say that again.” Joel demands, his voice shaking you to your core, the sickeningly dark turn it’s taken. 

You double down, “Move, Joel.” You say through clenched teeth, yanking your arm back to no avail.

You hadn’t realized how wound up you both were until now, the shared frustration and pique boiling over the edge.

You yank away again, forcing a quick change of position as Joel retaliates, shoving you against the table by the door, your legs buckling from the force of it as he towers over you.

“I apologized,” He glared at you through hooded eyes, chin tilting down slightly, “it’s your turn.”

You scoff softly, never making a move to push him away, his legs crowding between yours as they spread involuntarily, the only thing keeping you upright being the grip he had on your arm, leaving you hanging by a thread. If he let go, you’d surely collapse.

“Why don’t you tell me why you really switched patrols?” Joel suggests, tilting his head in interest. “Don’t lie to me—I’ll know.”

There was a side of you that couldn’t stand being around him, his proximity driving you crazy. But, there’s a bigger part that yearned to be around him, by his side—it was never like this at first, but you found yourself unable to escape him lately. 

You want to blame him for letting you in, letting his guard down—but you can’t. It wasn’t just his fault. It wasn’t just yours. 

You craved each other. Plain and simple.

“You tell me,” You counter, “I’m not the one keeping you from leaving.”

It snaps Joel—that feeling he’s been burying away all day. He’s nearly insatiable over it. 

He trades his grip on your wrist for your face, too quick to counter before he’s gripping your chin again like earlier, but under completely different pretenses, your mouth lolling open at the force and pulling a soft grunt from your lips, eyes narrow in defiance. 

“You are so goddamn stubborn,” He complains, eyes scanning over your face slowly, “—and you know exactly what you’re doing.”

You laugh bitterly, a choked gasp. 

He's never touched you like this, but intensity is all too familiar.

His grip was tight, your mind flashing back to the first time he held you, though involuntarily. There was intention now, meaning—and you needed him to give in to it. 

You blink once, slow, eyes staying shut for a moment longer than needed. There’s a soft sigh that leaves your nose, ghosts over Joel’s outstretched palm. When you open your eyes, there’s little left of the Joel you’ve become accustomed to.

“We’ve got all night, Joel.” His nostrils flare in warning, “Go on—do it.”

He won’t. Joel wouldn’t let himself. You’re waiting for the moment he lets you go, shuffles away and tucks himself into a corner for the rest of the night. But, it never comes.

Instead he’s surging forward, tilting your chin up roughly and forcing his lips against your own, nothing like the delicate kiss shared the night prior. There’s no gradual increase, no soft sighs and hesitant touches. He doesn’t want that and neither do you. 

You open your mouth in an airy gasp of breath and Joel jumps on the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, into your mouth, pressing against your own until you finally, finally return his touch. He feels the heat, the weight of your hand where it rests against the seam of his jeans, fingers resting over his belt and your knuckles pressing into the firmness of his stomach, his breathing steady despite his eagerness to ravish you. He greedily pulls your bottom lip between his own, sucking lewdly until his teeth drag against the skin, pulling back with untamed eyes.

You narrow your eyes with intrigue, mouth quipping up into a smirk at his final break of self control, allowing himself what he wanted. There was no turning back now. 

He grips your hands, yanking you upright and forcing you to turn until your hip bones are hitting the blunt edge of the table, his movements haste but pointed, his palms rubbing over the soft curve of your hips, pressing underneath the material of your shirt and squeezing the skin. 

“Joel—“ You sing softly, your tone mocking.

“Keep quiet,” He warns, pulling you back suddenly and against his front, the heaviness of his cock pressing into your backside, strained through his jeans and craving a selfish need for release—it’s been too long for him and he’s bursting at the seams, “don’t wanna hear your smartass remarks.”

And you can hear the restraint in his voice, drowning in his thoughts—he wanted to ravish and pull you apart, not thinking about how he would put you back together and make you whole again. You shift back against him, a greedy rut of your ass against the stiff denim and he’s grunting under the weight of it.

“Get ‘em down,” He instructs, yanking at your jeans briefly before his touch is gone, hands working swiftly at his own.

The rustle of his belt is deafening, metal clanging against something solid, the quick shuffle of his zipper and the shifting off fabric. You rise without hesitation, unbuttoning your jeans and wiggling them far enough down your hips until they hit your knees, underwear following roughly as Joel shoved them down impatiently, bunching your shirt higher up your back as he rubs his fingers over your cunt sleazily. 

He’s waiting a beat, eyes examining you from behind and looking for any sign that you didn’t want this—it never comes. In fact, the subtle push back into his fingers is enough, two thick digits sinking inside slowly.

You gasp ruggedly, feeling the immediate difference in fullness to your own, the touch of someone else that you haven’t felt in so long. Joel is desperate, but so are you. 

You turn your face to the side, cheek pressed against the hard surface, fingers gripping either side of the table and you let yourself melt into his touch, his fingers working you over steadily, his other hand squeezing at the soft globes of your ass, following the insistent and impatient wiggle of your hips as you seek more friction, more fullness until Joel can’t stand it anymore, palm coming down in a rough slap to your backside to still you, a warning.

“You treat all the ladies like this?” 

He should’ve known you wouldn’t give yourself over this easy, his stifled chuckle coming from behind, low and dark, until he’s quickly switching back to menacing, his fingers increasing with speed and intensity, dragging a third finger along your center and pressing it in smoothly, forcing a lewd moan from your lips as you grip the edges of the table harder, willing to strain your neck for a look his way, a glimpse at his face to see how this was affecting him. You could only imagine, his groans stifled behind heavy puffs of air forced through his nose when you forced yourself back against his cock, inadvertently rubbing yourself against the length of his shaft.

“Fine, keep acting like you hate me.”

The loss of fingers is sudden, fingers fisting into your hair with a sudden fierceness as he pulls you upright, your hands grasping for purchase. He tilts your head back, allowing you the smallest glimpse of his face as he looks forward, talking to you but never allowing you the eye contact you desperately craved. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, sweetheart.”

You shake your head in disbelief, lifting your hand up to wind into his own overgrown hair, curling wildly. You pull taut, reveling in the grunt that slips past his lips.

“You don’t scare me, Joel.” 

He never could. You’ve seen all sides of him, the good and the bad—there was nowhere left for him to hide.

But, he should, he thinks. You should be terrified. 

“I don’t remember sayin’ I wanted to hear your voice,” Joel reprimands, “can’t fuckin’ listen today, can you?”

He turns his head toward you slightly, catching the playful glint in your eyes, the type that was asking to be pushed. Begging for it.

“Depends,” You smile, releasing the rough grip on his hair to slide between your bodies, cupping his cock from where he’s tucked it over his briefs, also pushed haphazardly down his hips, “are you going to fuck me, Joel?”

His name shouldn’t sound like that, falling from your lips in such a circumstance, but it drags a rabidness out of him he’s never felt before. 

“Say it again.” Joel demands—and you already know.

“Joel,” Your voice is sultry, dangerous, adding a squeeze of your hand to his length, thumb rubbing over the head of his cock, smoothing the slick of precum over the slit, “you started this, too afraid to finish it?”

Joel smirks at that, a smug expression crossing his face as releases the grip on your hair, shoving your hand away and gripping himself at the base, removing his fingers from inside you and replacing them with a slow press of his cock, watching your expression fall lax, mouth hung open in a silent release of pleasure. 

“You underestimate me,” He shakes his head in amusement, his own brow furrowing at your snug hold on him, walls clenching around him involuntarily, “Now, why don’t we teach you a lesson?”

You nod numbly, gasping loudly at the sudden change in pace, body shifting to lean forward and Joel’s hands slotting against your body, one secured firmly on your hip, the other guiding you back with a steady pressure against your shoulder, immediately blanking your mind, whatever rude quip you had poised was failing you.

“So — goddamn — stubborn,” He echoes from earlier, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, no restraint, divulging in the pleasure both of you have been seeking for a while, “don’t fuckin’ listen, always testin’ me.”

You release a soft cry, reaching an arm behind you to squeeze at his side, tightening with every sharp thrust, the head of his cock nudging something deep inside of you, the feeling coiling in your gut despite yourself. It’s a dull ache, mewling desperately when he forgoes his hold on your hip to keep your arm stuck, thick fingers wrapping around your wrist to hold you steady, eyes shifting to watch you sink onto him with an unrestrained eagerness.

“Nothin’ to say now?” Joel pesters you, thumb rubbing the tender spot at the base of your neck, the start of your spine between your shoulder blades—your silence lingers, at least in words, your pathetic noises keeping you busy.

He feels like he’s finally got the upper hand with you, he just never realized this was what it would take. 

“Fuck—fuck, Joel.” You say through a stuttered sigh.

Joel grimaces from behind you, that longing feeling of release creeping on him, too long without it and he feels pathetic for it, but you—the sounds, the view.

Oh, the view. It’s your neediness for it that sucks him in, how eager your cunt is to take hold, the wet squelch growing louder, your slick soaking the base of his cock.

“Why’d you kiss me, huh?” Joel questions firmly, trying to draw the truth out in the heat of the moment, your movements growing desperate as you orgasm creeped in, blunt nails digging into his skin. He hissed, pulling you in tight, trading the hand on your shoulder for a squeeze to your chest, palm the mound of your breast through your shirt—still enough contact to drive you insane. 

“Wanted to—wanted to see how you would react.” You admit, but there was also that selfish need. You kissed him because you wanted to—and you knew he did too.

Joel huffs in response, not fully believing you. 

“Try again,” Joel assesses the way your body tenses when his hand shifts down, pressing over his fingers over your clit and driving you over the edge in an instant, your body arching into his touch as you come, a broken moan falling from your lips, “why?”

“Doesn’t matter—you kissed me back,” You argue tiredly, “You wanted it just as much as I did. Clearly.”

And in a way, it’s all the confession he needs. 

Joel growls lowly, pulling out abruptly to grip himself, squeezing himself at the head to delay his orgasm until it fades, face scrunching up tightly in anguish. 

“What—what are you doing?” 

Joel is already tucking himself back into his pants by the time you turn around, his expression stiff and avoiding your gaze. 

There it was again, the avoidance. 

You don’t know why it bothers you so much, but it does.

“I’ll take the first watch,” He says, shuffling backwards slightly, “get dressed.”

You stare back blanky, at a loss for words.

“Did you hear me?” He asks bluntly, brow now permanently furrowed in frustration.

“But—you didn’t—“ 

The silence lingers, your head tilting in question. Your expression softens suddenly, pulling weakly at your jeans to secure them back over your hips.

“Get some sleep, we’ll head out early tomorrow.”

You still had to send a bigger team to scout the place thoroughly, a distant memory now.

You’re so fucking confused. A few minutes prior he was lost in the moment, though still wound up and tense—but it was the biggest break in demeanor he’s ever given you, the most he’s allowed himself to touch you, be close to you. 

Joel didn’t want to admit it, but he didn’t deserve it. He was trying to convince himself it was a mistake, that this was a fluke. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, hesitating for a brief moment as his hand hovers over the doorknob before he’s leaving you alone. Again. 

Joel handles himself later that night, long after you’ve gone asleep, a permanent frown on your face when he peeks his head in before he’s traveling down the hall to a separate room, cupping himself in his palm eagerly, groaning out your name as he comes.

Somehow, it makes him feel even worse.

The week that follows is tumultuous. 

Tommy swears you and Joel off of patrol for a while, tells you that as soon as he has you two alone, gathering the full story of the attack, but somehow—Joel always weasels his way out. 

He’s gone most of the daylight, leaving you to fill your days around Jackson, helping wherever it was needed. And when it wasn’t, you were stuck inside your home, watching the snow melt from the ground, only to be covered with a new blanket of it the next day.

Joel always comes home late, heavy feet scuffling down the sidewalk after dark and entering his house, Ellie having already turned in for the night. His bedroom light comes on a few minutes later and it never shuts off, his shadow crossing the window every now and then. 

He can’t sleep, but neither can you.

At first you blamed it on the bodies—but none of that was new to you. You’ve killed before, animals, infected, raiders, even a few bystanders in a situation long ago, nothing they’ve done to end up the way they did. 

You followed a bad group for too long, but eventually you found Jackson—things were different here. Joel’s told you about the horrible things he’s done to survive, assures you it wasn’t anything you could blame yourself for.

This world made people rabid. It made people afraid.

There were people, much like Joel, that used to terrify you. But this Joel, he was lost and worn down, weathered by the world and by age. He’s afraid to let himself indulge, enjoy—you saw it that night, his hesitancy to look at you afterwards. 

And that ache that lingered for a few days, it made you realize that you were missing something you couldn’t have. It was clear on Joel’s face that he’d made a mistake. With you. 

Joel looks bitter the week that follows, you having convinced Tommy to let you back out, assuring him that nothing was wrong. He’s hesitant, rightfully so, but you’re too convincing. 

You even offer to run patrol with him, or Jesse—literally anyone but Joel, who seemed obviously disgruntled by your presence that morning.

Tommy clocks it immediately, swiping a finger between you both, “You know what—I’m sending you two out together.” It’s dreadful. “Take the lodge again,” and Tommy waits for everyone to part ways, except for Joel and you, before he’s eyeing you both down, “work out whatever argument you both have going—or you’re both coming off patrols until I feel like putting you back on.”

Joel grumbles at that, adjusting the thick gloves over his hand and shaking his head with a look down. Tommy seems slightly apologetic when you lock eyes, but it’s necessary. You were too scared to admit it to yourself, but it’s exactly what you needed.

*

You can’t be bothered to stay still, wandering around the lodge aimlessly, picking up some scattered trash, sifting through the small library that had accumulated over time, worn and slightly rained over books, the pages stiff and discolored. 

Joel’s cheeks are still tinged pink from his last watch, arms crossed over his stomach as he glares at the small fire burning in the fire pit, crackling softly in the silence.

He’s being insistently stubborn, somehow managing to avoid any exchange of words in the past eight hours, not giving you his usual orders, whether delivered in a clipped tone or a kind one—it’s just nothing.

And considering how talkative he was last time you ran patrol with him, you found it to be bullshit.

You grab a random book, large and bulky and make your way toward him—he sees you coming but he ignores it, the book hitting solid against his chest as you force it there, making a snide comment to rattle him.

“To entertain yourself, since you’re so miserable,” Your eyes drag over his face, his eyes lilting up your way, the fire melting them into a warm, honey brown, “and you won’t even have to worry about finishing.”

He grabs your wrist suddenly, thinking that he might pull you toward him, but he tosses it away, throwing the book to the side too. You sigh through your nose, frustrated.

“What’s it gonna take, Joel?” 

There’s an ire of defeat in your voice, a willingness to do just about anything to put this to rest. 

“Do I need to leave Jackson, is that it?”

That gets his attention, his gaze narrowing fiercely.

“Don’t say that shit,” He bites, “you got a death wish or something?”

“Well, you clearly don’t want me around, so who cares?”

Joel bites at the inside of his cheek—he didn’t agree with that. 

“Give me something, Joel. Anything.” You plead, hand accidentally brushing his thigh as you fall into the spot beside him, imitating the closeness he craved but couldn’t bring himself to ask for, not again. 

He tenses under your touch, fist curling at his side, noticing how you pointedly keep your grip there. 

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning.

But, it’s the biggest sign he’s given you. There was still a fondness there, lingering behind wall after wall that he’s built up.

He doesn’t move your hand either, your fingers dragging up the inside of his thigh, along the seam and stopping where his jeans creased at his groin, palm settling over the curve of his thigh.

“So, do we work things out or not?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper, talking like you might scare him away. 

And, yeah—Joel wasn’t big on hashing things out, confessing his thoughts or emotions and conveying them into words, that was never a surprise to you. But, you needed equal ground. 

You weren’t looking for a confession or some dramatic change in pace with your relationship—whatever you could classify it as. A partnership, maybe?

You need something mutually beneficial, something that was give and take on both ends. 

You squeeze at the junction of his thigh, taut muscle giving way as Joel shows little signs of being affected. His eyes follow though, acutely aware of your intention.

This was you returning the favor. 

This was you cornering him, like he had you—if he didn’t want it he would’ve pushed you away ages ago, but he does want it. He needs it. 

His jaw flexes under the weight of your grip, watching you move slowly to sink to the ground, thankful that this floor wasn’t nearly as dirty as most places. Joel shifts slightly to accommodate you, thighs spreading open to box you in, hands coming to rest down at his side, flat against the cushion.

You push at his coat lightly, forcing it away from his chest until he gets the idea, stripping himself the rest of the way, his unbuttoned flannel falling open.

You work quietly, eyes flicking up toward him occasionally to check in, make sure he was still with you. He’s mesmerized now, despite himself. Locked in.

He doesn’t stop your hands when they reach for the zipper of his jeans, unbuttoning and loosening them in one fluid motion, tugging at his jeans until, again, he catches on, forcing them down just enough.

It’s surprising how in tune he is with you despite how hard he tried to keep his distance, hoping that one big mistake would fade away—but frankly, it hadn’t left either of your minds since then. 

“Touch yourself.” You command softly, an amused aspect to your voice.

Joel balks slightly, his bewilderment something to enjoy.

“What?” You ask innocently, “Is that too personal? Sorry–I should’ve considered that when I let you fuck me over a table.”

His nostrils flare in annoyance, but he listens. Thank god. He slips his fingers under the band of his underwear, palming himself lightly under the fabric, leaving you to lean back onto your heels, enjoying the lazy show he put on for you.

He had nothing to be ashamed of.

His fingers roll against the taut skin of his sack, drifting upwards over his shaft until he finally has the courage to shift his underwear to sit snug under his balls, watching your eyes drift from his cock to his face. Joel’s mouth parted briefly, rubbing his thumb over the head, glistening with a sheen of precum, your hands itching to touch him. 

He knows it will lead to nothing but bad outcomes, but he’s indulging in it. Allowing it.

“Come here,” He’s using his free hand to beckon you forward, leaving his palm extending for you to lean into, resting your chin there gently, “open your mouth.”

You obliges, sweetening the deal by sticking your tongue out, earning a gruff laugh in response, softening your gaze on him. There were plenty of other ways to resolve things, but this was so much easier.

He slides the head over your tongue in a deft slap, slipping it past your lips slowly before he’s pulling back and repeating the process again, watching as you eagerly follow his movements until you’re bordering on impatience.

“Don’t think you have the upper hand here, sweetheart.” Joel says, eyebrow quirking up in amusement at your annoyed expression. “You want it?”

You tilt your head at him, eyes narrowing. “You want me to beg for it?”

Joel chuckles at the thought, shaking his head. “I didn’t pin you as the type.”

Cheeky Joel was something to admire, rolling your eyes and shoving his hands away, allowing yourself to take over fully and leaving him with nothing to do but watch, rolling your tongue around the head and through the slit, mouth enveloping the heady taste of him. 

Joel was always good at keeping his composure, even now–but you were looking to break him down, nothing but a mumbling, begging mess of himself, even for a brief moment.

You take him in slowly, soft and parted lips pressing down the length of him, the heavy weight of his cock pressing against your tongue, cheeks, until he’s nudging the back of your throat and you swallow out of reflex.

His knuckles flex, turning white as he curls them inwards and digs into the cheap cushion, the stitching protesting under his grip.

There he is. 

You make a small noise, a soft bubble of laughter out of pure enjoyment, pulling back with a showy drag of your tongue up his shaft until you’re sinking down again, burying your nose in the short, trimmed thatch of hair at the base of his cock, ignoring that telltale feeling to let up, breathing deep through your nose. 

“Goddamnit,” He curses, the hand not gripping the cushion rising slightly before slamming back down in a fist, the material taking most of the blow, “you gotta ease up on me.”

He doesn’t add the please, but you can see it’s implied.

You smile sweetly when you pull away, a thin line of spit connecting your lips to the wet head of his cock, stroking him languidly to keep busy, running your thumb along the thick vein that traced along the underside. 

“Don’t think so,” It’s sickening, tone laced in sugar and daring him—for what, you weren’t sure, “—more?”

Joel nods quickly, widening his stance as he sunk further into the couch, your hands bracing against his stomach as he filtered his fingers through your hair, framing it away from your face as you continued, driving him to near insanity with how easily you would take him down over and over again, stopping to tease your tongue over the head of his cock, realizing just how sensitive that part of him was.

He grunts on a particular rough pass, yanking your hair back and allowing a centimeter of reprice as your lips barely brush the aching tip, “You can stop, sweetheart. It’s alright.”

It feels like a punishment, not allowing himself to seek that relief—he sees it as a barrier, that by not allowing it, things won’t ever reach a point of no return. Not that this wasn’t already dangerous enough—it’s a ridiculous rule, but Joel follows it. He’d give you as much pleasure as you asked and then some, if that’s what you wanted.

And it clicks in your head slowly, his cock pulsing dully in your hands, begging for it. 

No. He wasn’t doing that again.

“No,” You echo your thoughts, “Give me your hand.”

“Darlin’—“

“Joel, shut up.” You demand, gripping his open palm and replacing it with your own, “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Joel looks conflicted, eyebrow pinching in a mix of pleasure and regret, his mind blanking the moment you press a gentle kiss to the head, pressing your tongue flat again and moving his hand in tandem until he starts to give in, his breaths becoming shorter, more strangled.

“That’s it,” You mumble a praise through his haziness—he doesn’t know how to take it, the feeling so foreign to him, “take control, Joel.”

His eyes fall shut briefly, forcing focused breaths through his nose as his free hand grips your face, keeping you still as he strokes himself roughly, that last string of self control breaking under your gaze when he tilts his head down to look at you, soft gaze staring back at him and he’s coming over your tongue and into your mouth with a warm rush, the taste of him overwhelming your senses as he squeezes up to the tip, milking every last bit of himself into your mouth before he’s pulling away and gently guiding your mouth closed.

“Shit—“ He groans quietly, cupping himself tenderly as he pulls away, watching you swallow and tracing a trace of him at the corner of your lip back into your mouth with your thumb, staring him down intently, “you’re fuckin’ greedy, you know that?”

You shrug proudly, rising to your feet slowly, the ache from sitting crouched so long singing a protest from your joints.

“Add it to the list,” You snark at him, taking a casual seat beside him as he tucks himself away, your hands working carefully to roll up your jacket and tuck it under your head as you recline, laying down on your side, “right?”

Joel scoots away to accommodate you, looking perplexed at how quickly you’ve changed your demeanor, yawning until your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Stop staring and get some sleep, Joel.” You gripe, reaching blindly to ball his coat up and toss it at his chest, “Problem solved, we’re even now.”

Joel puffs through his lips, ignoring that lingering feeling as you very quickly forced the distance between him and you—a payback to his own previous actions. It hurts, stings, and now he realizes what that meant and why that frown never left your face before, not even on the ride home or long thereafter.

He’s fucked. 

To say things escalate is an understatement.

The two of you never actually talk, avoiding all aspects of emotional vulnerability in turn for your usual interactions—small conversations, jokes, driving each other up the wall with the constant close proximity due to your assigned jobs. But, now there’s more.

There's the Joel that wants and takes, stops holding back his desires and gives you just about every possible orgasm from then on. This Joel is insatiable if he allows himself to be. He’s downright filthy and terrifying when it mattered and he found that the more you seemed to give yourself over, the easier it was for him to stop worrying so much. 

And he seems lighter nowadays, happier—though, it was still Joel. There was only so much to enjoy, his smiles few and far between. However, that smirk, laced in a smugness he carried with himself when he was alone with you—it had become a regular sight to see and something you craved when you’d finally get him alone.

It never starts off slow. Joel’s always itching by the time rotation leads you his way. You two keep it close to your chest like a secret–saving times like this strictly for patrols.

Joel doesn’t even wait sometimes, cornering you the moment the horses are tied up, bags set aside, crowding up behind you as he wrangles your jeans down, along with his, and presses himself inside you with a deep grunt, pressing you up against whatever hard surface was near–it didn’t matter, the ferocity of his thrusts clouding your mind.

It’s punishment for how well you tease him on the rides there, thighs spread wide over the saddle and always riding just a few inches ahead, leaning forward enough that you can stick out your ass, Joel’s eyes drawing toward you immediately. 

It was easy.

“You like messin’ with me, don’t you?” He chastises, palming at the inside of your thigh in desperation, pulling you wider and wider for him until it aches and you have nothing to do but take it. “Fuckin’ with my head?”

You laugh breathily, head thrown back against his shoulder as you moan wantonly, thick fingers bearing down on your throat, keeping you tight against him. “It’s not my fault–fault you can’t control it.” You reply innocently, stumbling over your words when his fingers press against your core.

And it’s often like this. Fast, hurried, no care or soft, caressing touches involved. It’s simpler that way.

But, eventually, Joel breaks down–little by little.

*

A week or two passes by and Joel seems desperate. 

“What did I just say?” He seethed, voice laced with annoyance, “Keep your eyes open.”

He’s right there, his hand, his fingers, buried deep inside your cunt. Joel’s on edge again, having ordered you to strip down naked while he remained completely clothed, the cold air prickling your skin like this, the lingering days of Winter coming to a close. It’s dark here, wet and mucky, the only barrier between you and the floor is an old blanket that Joel had stowed away in his saddle. He spent the last two weeks dealing with a copious amount of shit–killing more infected than they’re used to, dealing with mundane problems around Jackson that shouldn’t be his problems, but in being Tommy’s brother, he took a piece of the burden off of him.

You gasp sharply, feeling the force of Joel’s grip as he orders your eyes open, an impossible feat in the moment with how easily he’s able to bring you near the edge with just his fingers–something he found out fairly quickly. 

“Joel–Joel, please,” You beg–it’s new for you, something you don’t do often, “let me–fuck–”

“Hmm, sweetheart?” Joel questions, igniting a fire in your belly that won’t go out. He likes you this way, clawing at him, nearly on the brink of tears over how bad you need him. “Spit it out.”

You’re hastily shoving him away, brow pinched in determination as you shove him down, working desperately at his buckle, his pants, working them down with little care or finesse, gripping the length of him and sinking down in one quick movement. 

It punches a moan out of Joel’s chest that you’re not used to, his head slamming pack against his bag, the makeshift pillow he’s got stuffed behind his head as he grips your hips tight, eyes locked on the center where you’re both connected, grunting with the hurried bounce of your hips, losing what little patience you had left as you chase your orgasm, shoving his shirt up his chest to feel him–all soft, tanned skin under your fingertips as you brace yourself against him, using the surface for leverage.

He can’t stand to watch you this way, tits jostling with every hurried thrust, blunt nails clawing at his abdomen, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, again. He likes you facing away because he can hide his own inflections, how well you drive him wild–you’ve never cared, especially not now. 

Joel grunts raggedly, forcing out a hoarse whisper, “You’re fuckin’ killing me here.”

A soft laugh bubbles in your chest, head lolling forward and eyes opening to look at him.

“Mmm, eyes on me, Joel.” You beckon, his slow gaze trailing upwards, nodding in response to his wrecked state, hair sticking up wildly, teeth grazing his bottom lip gently. “God–it feels so good, doesn’t it?

Joel nods absently, his hands slipping from your hips to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hands, aware of how your touch burns a trail up toward his face, coaxing his bottom lip to freedom, grazing your thumb over the soft tissue, soothing the ache.

You ignore how easily he takes the pad of it over his tongue and lets you press the digit beyond his lips, how willing he’s being to let you take what you want.

He pulls out before he comes, spilling into his hand to contain the mess, leaving you enraptured with his expression as his face pulls up in anguish, the same expression he has when he’s bothered or annoyed but edged with something more, his breath catching.

He rolls you back over soon after, replacing his hand with his mouth, hot tongue lapping into your folds and tasting, savoring, the mix of you two tangled together and he devours until you come, hand yanking hard at his hair.

*

April comes quickly—it means longer patrols, more problems out in the field with the infected less dormant, and Jackson coming alive more often at night, everyone enjoying the weather after a bitter winter.

You find yourself at Tommy’s doorstep one night.

Maria had been planning this dinner for a few weeks, something special for Tommy’s birthday, and somehow you got roped into going.

It was Ellie.

Joel was the least bit surprised when you showed up at the front door that night, dressed up nicer than he’s had the privilege to witness. You’re smiling, a flowy dress cutting off mid-thigh, forgoing the usual sweater with the air warming up, leaving your shoulders bare. 

Joel nods in greeting when Ellie peeks around his shoulder, beaming at the sight out of you.

“Thank god,” She groans, “Those two are insufferable together,” Tommy and Joel, “—they’ve been arm wrestling each other in the backyard for the last hour.”

Your eyebrows raise, looking over at Joel. He’s got the hint of a smile on his face, looking down at Ellie before he’s shoving her away with a palm to the crown of her head, his arm flexing under the fitted cotton shirt he wore, muscle on full display. 

It’s easy to forget how strong Joel is under all those layers, but it’s even more apparent now with how often you find him stripped down underneath you, behind you, watching him become more and more comfortable around you as the weeks pass, finally giving in to whatever it was that you two were indulging in.

It was mostly sex—a means for release and often a cure for boredom and neither of you minded it much, but there was something lingering in the shadows. 

You were good at ignoring it, apparently so was Joel.

He leads you to the backyard with a silence you’ve become accustomed to, and spends most of the dinner laughing at Ellie’s terrible and poorly timed jokes. It’s such a sight, seeing how effortlessly Ellie can break that man down, and you realize just how deeply he cared for her, even if she wasn’t his daughter. 

He glances at you frequently, a silent check-in.

You were fine—a little tired, maybe? 

You excuse yourself to the bathroom with a flick of your hair behind your ear and a whine in protest from your chair as it scrapes the floor, leaving the rest of the party in the backyard while you traverse inside. 

It isn’t long before there’s a knock behind the closed door and that unsettling creak, only to be met face to face with Joel. He looks relaxed, placated, his face falling into a natural smirk.

And based on the drink in his hand, slightly inebriated. 

“Lost?” You tease, fixing yourself idly in the mirror, watching as Joel crossed the threshold and nudged the door close behind him. “Joel–”

“Don’t worry, darlin’.” Joel soothes, “Tommy thinks I’m using the one upstairs, everyone’s outside.”

You don’t need him to explain to know what he’s implying. But, for him to want you here–now? That was different. You hate how it made your heart skip, realizing how willing he was to risk this bond of secrecy because he just couldn’t get you out of his head.

His glass slides against the countertop, the soft scuff of his boots grazing the floor as he moves in behind you, causing you to pull away slightly as he raises a hand, brushing your strap down your shoulder and mouthing the skin there, “You’re drunk.” You muse, earning a subtle shake of his head.

“Not at all,” Joel denies, “can’t be in a good mood?”

You sigh at his touch, opposite hand grazing under your dress and over the skin of your stomach, pinky finger grazing the hem of your underwear.

“When are you ever?”

Joel ignores your snark, “Don’t act like you don’t want it, sweetheart.”

He can feel the heat radiating off your body, the wetness that coats his finger as he dips it under the fabric and down the center of your cunt, “Joel,” You stress, “there’s people outside, we can’t.”

“Don’t worry about that,” He says softly, “Ellie’s gone home, Tommy and Maria are busy with a neighbor–if you want me to stop, tell me. You don’t need to make excuses.”

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

“Been needin’ this all day,” He admits, cupping your mound roughly, shifting to press the hard line of his chest against your back, pulling you taut, his idle fingers playing with the soft material of your dress, “This is cute–it’s a nice dress.”

You roll your eyes, though fondly. He can’t see it, face buried into your neck as he mouths along the skin, slipping the straps of your dress down until your tits spring free, nipples pebbling under the cool air.

“Are we talking or fucking?” You ask impatiently, pointedly rubbing your ass back against his body, earning a dark chuckle in response.

“I never said anything about fucking,” Joel points out smugly, “but since you’re askin.”

It’s the impatiences that brings you to take matters into your own hands, sliding your dress up high enough that Joel can yank your underwear down, undoing his pants with one hand and freeing himself hastily, sliding into you roughly, forcing a strained gasp from your throat. 

Joel shushes you, covering your mouth with his hand.

“Careful, these walls ain’t soundproof.” He warns, his forceful thrusts plunging you forward, eyes dragging toward the mirror image of you and him, a sight to see as he smirks from behind, admiring you openly. “Look at you.”

He grin’s devilishly, your senses overwhelmed, showing through your eyes as you squeezed them shut, only to be forced back open by Joel’s coaxing voice.

He clicks his tongue in warning, breath hot against your ear. “Open those eyes, sweetheart. Need you to see how good you’re takin’ my cock,” You whine into his hand, his brutal thrust driving you further into the countertop, ignoring the pain that spreads, overtaken by the insatiable need to come, “and how pretty you look when you come.”

Pretty. He’s never used that word before. It sends a flutter through your chest, down to your core.

It’s more intense this way, the subtle pull in Joel’s face when he drives deeper, his own orgasm on the horizon. His teeth grit hard, small peaks of it as he bares his lips back in a growl, squeezing at the soft planes of your body that he could reach, driving you over the edge with little warning, not that you needed the help. 

Seeing him this way was enough. God, was it enough.

“Fuck, fuck—“ He curses a symphony, holding himself back as he gripped at the base of his shaft and you jump at the opportunity, turning to him in a haze and sinking to your knees despite the cold floor beneath you, urging him with a silent plea as you open your mouth to him, nodding subtly.

That’s all it takes for him, a few quick strokes of his cock and he’s spilling into your mouth, head hung back at how intensely it hits him, the skin of his neck straining over the muscle, his mouth open in a soundless grunt. 

*

Luckily, Joel is the one that takes care of the goodbyes. You wouldn’t be able to face Tommy or Maria after such an instance, adjusting yourself back to a semi-presentable state in the bathroom, with some of Joel’s help as he sets your dress back over your shoulders.

It shouldn’t feel endearing, not in this context. But, it does.

“Wait for me out front,” He tells you, buckling his pants, eyes connecting with yours briefly, squinting curiously, he reaches a hand forward and wiping a mix of spit and what you can only assume is his come, away from your mouth and onto his jeans, “—you had a little…”

You both laugh at the unspoken, rubbing a tired hand over your face as you nod, shoving him away playfully.

Things are vastly different when you’re facing him on your doorstep now, his lingering presence a hint at what he didn’t have the courage to ask.

“Stay for a while?” You suggest softly, nodding toward your front door.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Joel agrees.

You never realize how much Joel likes to talk about music until he’s finally found himself relaxed, your body reclined into his open, outstretched legs as he adjusts himself sideways. It doesn’t feel intimate, no—but it feels different. Joel rests a hand over your shoulder, massaging the tight muscle with a steady grip. His voice is nice, soothing.

You fall asleep like this, but Joel is already gone by morning.

By June, things are confusing. Good, but…confusing.

Joel and you have a routine by now—off days were usually spent at your house, occasionally Joel’s (but rarely) and only when Ellie wasn’t around, the days that were spent patrolling were fairly normal, aside from the insistent touching you both allowed yourself now, always leading to something neither of you could be bothered to stop. 

Joel’s vocal about things now—what he likes, what he wants, but he’s also holding back. You can see it when things get a little too intense, hands grabbing at clothes, pulling each other in with a rabidness that neither of you could calm.

He doesn’t kiss you, not really. He likes to nip and bite and leave bruises where only he can see them, but he won’t allow his eyes to linger on your face for too long, your lips, too afraid things might be misconstrued.

Not that it mattered, Joel was already fucked beyond repair. He’s only ever felt this intensely once, before—his relationship with Sarah’s mom was a fling that turned into something more, but ultimately fizzled, crashed and burned. It gave him Sarah, but he never understood what heartbreak was until then, young and naive and wanting to make things work.

Clearly, they never did.

He feels that with you, though he’s smarter now. He can be cold and distant when he feels that pull in his chest, push away just enough that you won’t pry. But, you’re smart—you’re stubborn, so goddamn stubborn. 

And he knows eventually, things are going to implode.

He just didn’t expect it to happen like this. 

You were starting to hate the lodge, finding yourself lingering to the connecting shops down the road—a guitar store that Joel and Tommy picked through often, a small coffee shop further down the way that didn’t have much left for picking, but it helped when you felt cooped up, a nice change of scenery.

But even then, the lodge wasn't a luxury to patrol anymore. Summer is practically unbearable most days there, the building always too warm, too stuffy.

Joel had other ideas this time around, stripping you down slowly by the couch nestled against the large window that overlooked the rest of the small town surrounding it.

It was quiet here.

Joel presses you into the soft velvet cushion, his own body stripped bare, a combat to the heat, he says.

You didn’t mind. In fact, it was everything you wanted. 

He’s never allowed such contact, all of you against him, the slow push of his hips inside of you has you gasping softly, fingers gripping his biceps. His place is slow, dreadful, and you both are already sweating, skin sticky and damp.

Joel doesn’t seem to mind.

He seems needier today, more willing to let the sounds slip from his mouth, his hands more curious, pulling your knee tight around his hip and gripping at the knee, head tilting up as he huffed through his nose, tense jaw, teeth clenched. He’s looking off distantly, not at you or your body, or anywhere in your vicinity really, but the torture on his face is all the same. He couldn’t hide it.

You moan softly, mumbling soft praises under your breath when he fucks into you hard enough it has you clawing at his chest, gripping tight at his shoulder, seeking whatever skin you could touch. 

Eventually, your touch lingers near his face, palm spreading over his warm cheek, thumb running along the strong hook of his nose, forcing his attention down toward you. Your fingertips graze his lips gently, other hand mirror the action as you caress his face, his eyes closing under your touch. 

The arm holding him upright nearly gives you, barely catching himself as his chest is pressed in tight against yours, changing the angle immensely.

That couldn't have been you’re doing—not a chance. But, you’re curious. You guide his face to your chest, his mouth sliding lazily against the skin as he pumps into you steadily. You meet his rough grunts with whispered praises, his breath becoming more frantic as time goes on until he’s finally chancing a look your way, eyes soft and pleading. He looks lost. You frown slightly, guiding his face toward yours and ghosting your own lips against his, never quite indulging, keeping the praises going with a soft whisper.

“God, you always fuck me so good,” You say in a breathy whisper against his lips, “so good, Joel.”

Joel squeezes you tighter, a sign of his impending orgasm. “Right there,” You sigh, “fuck—you feel that? Need this all the time, everyday.”

This. Him.

“Sweetheart—“ He warns, grunting into your open mouth, knees buckling as you slide your tongue against his teeth, grazing his top lip.

“Don’t—don't,” You panic, eyes connecting with him suddenly, “wanna feel you, all of you.”

It was something Joel could reflect on later, consider the consequences, because now was not that time—not with you looking at him so earnestly, pleading with him.

He slips a calculated hand between your joined bodies and has you both hanging over the edge in seconds, gasping into each other’s mouth in desperation as Joel does something completely selfish and unlike him.

He kisses you, no qualms or hesitation. It’s messy and wet but it’s him—his mouth soothes the ache as your orgasm overwhelms your body, his own chest rattling at the force, moaning pathetically against your mouth as he comes in hot, warm pulses inside of you, cunt clenching around him tight, like a glove. 

Joel soon slumps against your body, all energy drained from him, your hands weaving through his hair gently, caressing the soft spot behind his ear.

He doesn’t complain, letting you hold him until his cock softens, pulling out of you with a disgruntled noise before he’s resting on the cushion beside you, back pressed tight against one side to make room for the both of you, tilting himself sideways and letting his fingers drift over your naked frame, indulging in every part of you. 

“Should we talk about this?” You ask curiously, voice softened under his gaze, his fist pressed to his cheek.

There it was.

Joel looks down briefly, his touch stalling over the spot between your breasts, right over your heart.

“I’m not even sure what this is,” Joel admits, the most honest he’s ever been with anyone, “just that—I enjoy it.”

He's being honest, he's letting you in. Your heart soars.

Joel was tired of fighting it. He'd be ignorant to think you didn't see it just then or even before.

“I would classify it as fucking,” You joke lightly, “but that—that didn’t feel like fucking to me.”

Joel shakes his head, “No—it didn’t.” He agrees, grabbing for the blanket draped over the back of the couch, spreading it gently over your frame despite the heat, finger fingers grazing along the underside of your breasts, a teasing touch that has you giggling in response, his own laugh following.

It’s a beautiful sound.

“Or we don’t have to figure it out at all,” You suggest, realizing that trying to force something out of Joel was not the way to go, it never had been—he’d come to whatever conclusion he felt on his own, “that’s okay, too.”

“We can save it for another day,” Joel promises, his fingers tracing up toward your jaw, his palm resting to cup your cheek, a tender gesture that’s all new, “right now, I just wanna quiet that pretty little mouth of yours.”

He sees your eyes light up with intrigue, already tilting toward him eagerly.

“You want that?” He teases, earning an eager nod in response before he’s closing his mouth over yours again, kissing with a leisureliness he didn’t have before, “Answer me, sweetheart?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me, Joel.”

And it terrified Joel, because he’d give you anything.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[girlgenius1111]

do you need me?

a self indulgent sick fic of alexia x reader :)

warnings: migraine, vomiting, general sickfic things.

You woke before the alarm went off, barely containing a groan of pain. The left side of your head is pounding, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, the light coming in through the curtains only reinforcing the throbbing sensation. You didn't get migraines often, but when you did... they were incapacitating. The body next to you didn't stir at your movements, and you were glad. God knows Alexia needs the rest. You can't resist rolling over though, in search of comfort from her warm body. You nestle against her, and her arm comes to pull you into her, even as she sleeps.

You lay there for what feels like hours trying in vain to fall back asleep, knowing her alarm is due to go off any minute. You were dreading it; the sound, but also having to get up and either decide if you could push through and go to practice, or if you weren't going to be able to leave the bed today. You and Alexia had been together for almost a year, and you'd managed not to get sick around her that entire time. You'd always hated being sick; when you were younger, because no one really bothered to take care of you. Now, you hated that people DID try to take care of you. You'd done it alone for years, you could handle it yourself now.

However, you knew Alexia well enough to know that your usual pattern of laying in bed motionless, by yourself, until the migraine passed would not fly. She had been slowly but steadily breaking down the barriers you'd set up, getting you more and more comfortable with accepting help and letting her take care of you. She'd made good progress, but she hadn't seen you with a migraine yet, your stubbornness only exacerbated by the pain you felt.

You were contemplating whether it would be possible to hide this from her when the alarm finally blared, causing you to wince and shove your face farther into Alexia's neck. You felt the rumble of her chest as she chuckled, reaching over to shut the alarm off. Your behavior wasn't really alarming to her; you were not a morning person, and you normally made it very difficult for her to get you out of bed.

"Buenos días, mi amor," she whispered against your hair, pressing a few kisses onto your head, trying to get you to wake up. You grumbled incoherently into her neck, and she laughed again. She found you irresistibly adorable in the morning, all grumpy and clingy. She let you lay on her for a few more minutes, before she rolled out from under you, and headed into the bathroom to get ready for training. She busied herself with her morning routine, expecting that when she returned to the bedroom, you would be up and making coffee, as you normally did.

Instead, you continued to lay in bed. You'd rolled over, throwing an arm over your eyes to block out the light, trying to convince yourself that you could get up. Your brain felt like mush, though, and you knew if you tried to stand you would just fall right back down. You felt tears welling in your eyes, from both the pain and the feeling of being completely useless.

Alexia walked back into the bedroom then, and you heard her footsteps pause as she took in your form still curled up under the covers. You could tell her she was trying to determine if you'd fallen back asleep. You willed yourself to move, to do anything, but only managed to move your arm away from your face, immediately letting out a pathetic whimper as the light hit your face, more tears escaping.

"Hey, que paso? What's wrong cariño?" Alexia spoke softly, walking toward the side of the bed quickly. She stopped, gently resting a hand on your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

Alexia could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen you cry, and she'd never before seen the look of pain etched over your features; she was worried to say the least.

You managed to respond to her, voice raspy from sleep. "Migraine," you mumbled out, cracking an eye open to look up at your girlfriend. Her face was pinched with concern, and it made your stomach twist. You were fine, she didn't need to worry.

"I didn't know you got migraines, bebé," she stated, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, still looking at you with a face full of concern.

"Not often. From stress. Been a while," you spoke the fragmented sentences through clenched teeth, the pain in your head increasing at the low volume of Alexia's voice, and the light peeking in through your barely open eyelid. You had hoped to put Alexia more at ease, but at your words, her brow furrowed more.

"What can I do?" She responded, her voice dripping with worry. You sighed, very torn between asking her to bring you your medicine and stay in bed with you all day, or telling her to leave you be and get to practice before she was late. You settled for a combination of the two.

"Medicine in the nightstand. Then go to practice." You replied, letting your eyes falls shut again as Alexia immediately moved to get you the medicine. She helped you sit up and take it, holding the glass of water to your lips. She placed the glass back down, and brought her hand to run through your hair. Her touch was gentle, and you felt yourself melting into it against your will.

"I'll stay home with you today, y/n, one missed practice won't kill me," she said softly, as if anticipating your protests. You were reminded how much she must care about you, for her to consider missing practice to take care of you. At her words, your eyes flew open again, much too fast, and you let out another groan, covering your face with your hands.

"No, I'll be fine. Go to practice and explain why I'm not there." you made the extra effort to speak in full sentences, trying to make your girlfriend feel better about leaving you. Luckily, Alexia knew better than to argue with you, so she stood, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, before speaking again.

"Call me if you need me, if you need anything. Okay? Promise?"

"Si, Ale, promise," you were really screwed now because you'd rather die than break a promise to her. With that, she pecked your lips, and left the bedroom, heading to training. You rolled onto your side, pulling the fluffy duvet over your head, trying to fall back asleep.

-----

Alexia arrived at practice, and did her best to focus. She wasn't very successful. Her thoughts kept floating back to you, curled up in bed, in pain, all by yourself. She really, really hoped you'd actually call if you needed her. She'd given her phone to Jana, who was out for a few weeks with a muscle strain, with strict instructions to call Alexia over if you called.

She knew how you were about letting other people help you, so when Jana called her over only an hour into training, she knew that it had gotten worse, and you really needed her.

And you did. You'd managed to fall back asleep for about 45 minutes, before you jolted awake, suddenly nauseous. You realized you'd taken your medicine on an empty stomach, which you weren't supposed to do. You sat up slowly, trying to stave off the dizziness to no avail. Your stomach lurched, and you had the sense to grab your phone off the nightstand before stumbling into the bathroom, and unloading the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You rested your head against the cool toilet seat, trying to take deep breaths.

You were sick again and again, before you slumped onto the floor, exhausted. The act of getting sick had made your head hurt worse, and moving into the bathroom had made you dizzier. You laid on the floor, watching the room spin around you, before you tried to sit up and get yourself back to bed. The minute you raised your head from the ground, though, the world started to go hazy, and you instantly rested it back against the floor, realizing you weren't going anywhere by yourself anytime soon.

Your decision to call Alexia was more because you knew she'd be furious if she came home and found you passed out on the bathroom floor, and less because you were allowing her to help you. Regardless, you managed to click her contact, it only ringing once before Jana's voice came over the speaker, speaking much softer than she normally did. Alexia must have told her what was going on. You hadn't gotten a word out before Jana was telling you what you wanted to hear.

"Ale's coming right now, just hang on a sec." There was some brief shuffling, and suddenly your girlfriend's voice was cooing at you over the phone, and it took everything in you not to break into tears again.

"Hey amor, do you need me?" She asked, already moving to leave practice, regardless of your answer.

"Si, por favor." Your voice sounded weak and you hated it, but there really wasn't much that you could do at this point. You were quickly losing the battle of being independent.

"Okay, I'm leaving right now, I'll be there soon." she replied, making no move to hang the phone up. You couldn't respond, instead resting the phone on your chest, hoping the sound of you breathing would be enough for Alexia until she got here.

Alexia realized you'd gone quiet, and hoped you'd just fallen asleep. She sped home, ignoring several traffic laws, pulling into the driveway too fast and throwing the car into park. She turned it off, rushing inside and leaving her bag in the car.

You had, in fact, dozed off, and you were suddenly waking up to the feeling of soft hands cupping your face, and Alexia calling your name. Your eyes fluttered open to see Alexia's face hovering right above you. She helped you sit up, which proved to be a mistake, as the nausea returned and your were bending back over the toilet. You tried to push Alexia away with a weak hand, incredibly embarrassed , but she didn't move.

"No, I'm staying right here," she told you, her voice firm, carefully pulling your hair into a loose bun, and resting a hand on your back. When you were done, she pulled you back to rest against her chest, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist. You allowed your head to lay on her shoulder, too exhausted and in too much pain to resist her. She pressed a few tender kisses to the side of your head, and you blinked back tears again; this time, because of how soft and caring she was being. You didn't want her to have to take care of you, but now that she was, you couldn't deny that it felt good.

"What is it, amor? Are you in pain?" She whispered the words against your hair once she noticed the tears. Telling her that you were crying because she was being too nice to you seemed like it would end poorly, so you just nodded your head. You WERE in pain, it wasn't a lie. It just wasn't why you were crying.

"Y/n... maybe I should take you to the hospital." You jerked forward at her words, twisting in her arms to assure her that that wouldn't be necessary. Another wave of dizziness hit you at your rapid movements, though, and you had to shut your eyes, leaning forward to rest your head on Alexia's chest.

"No. No hospital. I'm fine. It'll pass. I'm sorry you had to leave practice for me," your voice grew thicker as you spoke, and your throat hurt from holding back sobs.

"Cariño..." she sounded unsure, like she was desperate to take you to the hospital that minute.

"No, Ale. I'm fine." Your voice came out sharper than you intended, and you were flooded with guilt instantly. She was only trying to help, why were you snapping at her? Instead of pulling away from you, as you'd expected, she tightened her arms around you, pulling you in even closer. You knew you didn't deserve it, but you couldn't help but snuggle closer to her warmth, burying your face in her chest. She somehow seemed to know what you were thinking.

"It's alright, y/n, let's get you back in bed okay?" her voice was unbelievably soft, and more tears leaked out of your eyes at her tone. You pulled away from her, intending to stand up with her help, but she was swooping you into her arms, cradling you close to her chest as she carried you back to the bed. She set you down so carefully, as if you were the most important thing in the world to her. You looked up at her, focusing on the furrow in her brow as she pulled the blankets up around you, tucking you in. Your head pounded, and you wanted nothing more than to shut your eyes, but you couldn't tear them away from your girlfriend, looking at you with so much care.

She met your eyes, then, and you tried to smile up at her, to express your deep gratitude, but you're sure it looked more like a grimace than anything. She smiled back down at you anyway, brushing the flyaways out of your face. You looked at her, trying to figure out how to ask for what you wanted. Again, she seemed to be able to read your mind.

"I'm all gross from training, I'll shower and then come lay with you, vale?"

"Si, gracias Ale. For all of it." Your voice cracked on the last word, and she leaned in to kiss you.

"Te quiero. You deserve to be taken care of, mi amor. Always." She said it definitively, leaving no room for argument, before heading off to shower.

You laid completely motionless while she was gone, pulling the blankets up over your face to block out the light. You weren't crying anymore, and you'd completely given up trying to push her away. All you could do was wait for her to climb back into bed with you.

Alexia must have rushed her shower, because it couldn't have been more than 10 minutes before you heard the bathroom door creak open, and the soft padding of her feet on the carpet. The bed dipped, and she was right next to you suddenly, wrapping you up in her arms. You cuddled into her, tugging her impossibly closer, gripping her shirt in your hands. She was wearing your favorite sweatshirt of hers, the one that was all fuzzy on the outside, which made laying in her arms even more comfortable. She didn't love the way it fit, and your heart melted at the fact that she was wearing it anyway. You breathed her in, the coconut of her shampoo, and the mango of her body wash.

"Rest, cariño, you'll feel better when you wake up."

She felt your soft breath on her neck, and relished in the feeling of you in her arms. She really didn't want to be anywhere else. Not at practice, not anywhere. She just wanted to take care of you. As you drifted off against her, her thoughts were consumed with exactly how she was supposed to convince you to allow her to take care of you, without any resistance.

-----

part 2?

[wildemaven]

strangers : fog | dave york

pairing: dave york x f!reader word count: 5208 chapter warning's: 18+ blog: established relationship, workaholic Dave, soft Dave, miscommunication, Smut (slight exhibitionism, dry humping, orgasms, keeping kind of vague for the sake of not giving things away), implied/alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn’t know this), Dave’s phone makes an appearance- shocking, drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes, conversations with bestie, reader is mentioned wearing lingerie and a bathing suit- but zero description features, no age given but it’s implied she’s at least over 30, no y/n, this is au- no Carol (at least not canon Carol) or kids, if I missed anything let me know notes: I kind of struggled with the end of this one. It felt very flat and blah, but thankfully @gnpwdrnwhiskey Is a gem and helped me, and it feels good now. So grateful for all of you who’ve been following along. Xoxo

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It’s sweet. 

But not the kind of sweet that aches and destroys your addiction. 

It’s perfect. Just enough. 

The kind of sweet that falls somewhere in the middle. Satiating that deep seeded craving that burns through your every fiber. 

Like a glass of ice cold tea under the Texas sun, sweetened to perfection. Each tantalizing drop coating your tongue, idly encompassing every single taste bud with refreshing pleasure. 

You're greedy. Reveling in your consumption. Take. Take. Take. Because it’s all you want and everything you’ve been needing. 

Finally.

You feel him everywhere. The weight of him is substantial, pressing you into the side of the pool. A secure grip onto the ledge, the swell of his biceps flexed as he does his best to keep you both suspended and unmoving from your secluded spot. 

He’s a blistering summer heatwave, one you’re fully hydrated and prepared for, but still stunned by its sultriness. 

“You think they’re watching us right? All of them so fucking jealous at how good I’m makin’ you feel.” You don’t bother to take a look when he says it, your head angled back and eyes closed as his lips work their way up your neck, your only concern at the moment. 

“Mmhmm— I honestly don’t care. Let them watch. Let them see how good you’re taking care of me— fuckbaby!” Your train of thought derailed when his hips jerk up with a little more eagerness than you expected. 

The cool water laps rhythmically against you both. The tiniest of splashes to your exposed skin as it surrounds your bodies, relieving the heat that’s burning through you. 

“Ahh!” You gasp at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Nipping and pulling. The gentle glide of his tongue soothing over the pleasant sting. 

“Sorry—“ He manages to get out. “Didn’t mean to be so rough, but also been wantin’ this so fuckin’ bad.”

His lips seal over yours again, groaning where he can feel you grinding against him, discreetly hidden below the surface of the water. Your legs wrapped tightly around his narrow waist, holding him as close as possible. 

He’s unbelievably hard. Cock nudging against your aching core, the water aiding in the flow of your hips moving over him in search of relief. 

“I’m definitely not complaining in the slightest. If anything, I’m entirely enjoying the roughness— wouldn’t be opposed to more of it.” You say smiling against his swollen lips. 

Your words lure him back in, driven by a deeper sense of want forging beneath the water. Lashes fluttering shut as every bit of him consumes your senses. All tongues and teeth, tracing over every ridge and fleshy surface. A sweet delicate dance of unbridled emotions. 

It's a slow building, intensely breathtaking. Your body ignited by self-indulgent energy, so hell-bent on seeking out unrivaled satisfaction, but you don’t seem to care. Focused solely on how each and every nerve lights up because of him, desperately wanting a release. A natural response to the way he’s holding you, kissing you, his determination to bring you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Fuck— that feels so good!” Breathless and anchoring yourself to his warm body. 

“Yeah? You think you can come like this?” One of his hands settles on your hip, helping your unfaltering movements, hitting that ever so desirable spot just right. “There you go, gorgeous— just like that.”

“ohmygod!! I’m so close— don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.“ Your grip secure on his taut shoulders, unmoving even under the wet conditions. Your head falling onto his forehead, noses nudging, exchanging desperate wordless breaths. 

“I’ve got ya.” He whispers, nodding softly as your body writhes against him. “Come for me, Baby.”

“Oh fuck! oh fuck! oh fuck— I’m coming!” Everything dissolves into pleasure. Tense and blissed out as your cunt contracts around nothing. 

“Open your eyes, Baby. Let me see you come undone.”

You pull back just enough to see him. He’s beautiful, framed in a hazy white vignette. His patchy beard is both rough and soft beneath your fingertips, tracing over every little detail of him while you still can. His rich brown eyes now a golden hue as the light hits them from the reflection of the water.  

“Fuck— Joel!”

You’re floating. Further and further away. Every detail of him slowly dissolving into nothingness. 

Your body jolts awake, Oh god, That felt so fucking real. Quickly sitting up, your hand to your chest feeling where your heart is frantically pounding. 

The dry air from the vent billows out from above you, cooling as it skims over your tacky skin. 

The remnants of last night's headache still remain. Though it wanes in intensity, the throbbing pain continues. Rubbing at your temples, the added pressure doing absolutely nothing. 

There’s a faint familiar ache that catches your attention from below the sheets, prompting you to throw them off, finding a pillow still tucked tightly between your legs. The experimental squeeze of your thighs around the pillow sends a fresh ripple of pleasure from your fading orgasm, causing you to inhale sharply. Your palms clamping over your mouth, breath more constricted than the last as a strong feeling of shame begins to surge through your veins. 

The hotel room feels paralyzing, especially with Dave sleeping beside you. 

The beach. 

Needing some fresh air and some time to collect your irrational thoughts, away from this confined space where everything seems to be closing in on you. Hastily, you manage to pull on some warm clothes and sandals while throwing your wallet and phone in your purse without waking Dave.

You know the minute he wakes up to find you gone he’ll panic. It will take only minutes to have all his agent buddies pulling maps and running background checks on anyone who lives within a mile radius of the hotel. You’re already annoyed with his distant behavior, you don’t have it in you to deal with the added disgruntlement that will ensue. 

Grabbing for the monogrammed hotel stationary, you scratch out a note to leave on this nightstand for him to find when he does wake. 

Good Morning, Babe Couldn’t sleep. Went for a walk down to the beach. I have my phone. Will be back in a bit.  Love you Xoxo

You two his phone screen, noting the time at the bottom— 8:00 am —a little tactic Dave had ingrained in you for matters as such, giving a starting point in the case anything were to happen to you, taking the guessing game of when out of the equation. 

A New Message glows on the screen, came in sometime last night after you both got back from dinner, he must have fallen asleep before seeing it. 

Double checking, you peek over the mound of blankets that is Dave’s solid body— still sleeping. The side of his face buried into his pillow and his plush lips parted. No worry lines etched across his forehead. No tension pulling at his jawline. His perfectly groomed hair, all disheveled and twisted in all directions. 

Your heart blooms at how handsome he is, his truest self on full display. A running joke between you, how others would be disappointed to find out his grumpy exterior is all a show, only reserving his softer side and big heart for you. 

Refocusing back to his phone, you tap the message to preview it— a message from his mom. 

Mom: Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then. 

Did she find out? Find out what?

*

The beach isn’t far from the hotel. Grateful for only a few hellos and forced smiles exchanged on the shared path on the short walk.

The air is crisp the closer you get to the water, a light breeze blows over the shoreline bringing tiny bits of sand crystals through the air. You can feel the salt already crystallizing against your cheeks. 

The lingering fog adds a bit of gloom to the atmosphere as you look out over the horizon in front of you. The white caps of the waves slowly roll over into the next, pushing their way through until they’ve reached the shore. The water fanning out as it moves, blanketing over the sand as it reaches where feet are planted firmly, now surrounded by the frigid sea water. Then it slowly slinks back out, leaving you numb as you wait for it to return. 

Good Morning! Are you busy?  No. Are you okay? Yeah, I’m fine. I just need someone to talk to.  One sec!

It takes a few flicks of the small metal dial for the flame to ignite, cupping your hand around to shelter it from the light wind threatening to squash your attempt at some sort of relief. 

It’s instant when it hits the back of your mouth, swirling and stinging about as it creeps up the back of your throat. That burn is all too familiar, no longer a regular occurrence, but definitely not forgotten. It takes the edge off momentarily, it always does. You imagine blowing out all your pent up anger as your release the smoke into the oceanic air. 

The cigarette sits between your fingers with ease, secure against those first knuckles as you bring it back to your lips for another desperate pull. That dedicated drag of your favorite menthol smokes had once been a regular part of your daily life in your college days. Getting you through long days of studying and working late hours, barely keeping your head above the water. Pack after pack. Light, smoke, tension gone, repeat. 

Eventually it was downgraded to a social practice before finally kicking the habit all together. Something Dave never pushed for, but was proud of you nonetheless. 

Your phone screen illuminates and buzzes simultaneously, a picture of Jacey double fisting some beers at last year's Fourth of July party pops up. The image alone already makes you feel better. 

“Mmm… Hello?” You can tell she just woke up by the way she garbles her words into the phone. 

“Hey, Jacey. I didn’t wake you did I?”

“Mhmm— Kind of but it’s okay— had a bit of a late night, but it’s fine. How are things going?”

“Fine. Good. Things are good.” Trying hard to keep your voice even without giving away too much— but she knows you too well. 

“I’m calling bullshit. You’re seriously the worst liar ever. Spill.” 

“Ugh. Where do I even start?” You tell her, audibly groaning into the brisk pacific air. 

“I’ve got some time.” 

Jacey has always been this way. Available whenever you’ve needed her, at a moment's notice. Connecting with her in college, your friendship has been a steady source of support and encouragement through the years. She stood by you when you married Dave— having her now makes you feel less alone. 

“Well, if it’s not one thing it’s another. There were some high hopes for sex when we got in the other night,  then he passed out— which is fine ‘cause traveling and what not. But I got in my head, questioning shit about myself and our relationship. Like maybe it’s me or something. He did try to initiate the next morning but I just kind of wasn’t feeling it— so we didn’t. Plus he had phone calls he needed to make so he wasn’t worrying about them the rest of our time here.”

“Hey, it’s not you at all. Don’t ever think that. You’re a catch— Dave knows that too.” She says, her reassurance firm but delivered sincerely. 

“Thank you. I mean, we kind of fooled around at the pool yesterday.”

“Ooooh!! I love this for you.”

“Well, then he ran off right before I— you know.”

“Fucking men, I swear.”

“Only to find him on the phone when he said he wouldn’t be. Then he was all jealous over this stranger I was talking to. We got back to the room, things seemed a little tense— we still went to dinner. Don’t really remember much after that, because I kept ordering dirty martinis at dinner.”

After hearing the beginning of his phone call, the shower didn’t do much to help. You didn’t want to make a scene, deciding to just leave the hurt bubbling inside of you back in the room and make the best of the rest of the night. 

Dave seemed pretty much his normal self going into dinner. Conversation was lighter than it was earlier in the room. You both caught up on things that you hadn’t really talked about in a while— details about his latest assignments (within reason), your own latest work projects, random tidbits about things —things felt normal.

There was a slight shift in the evening, when he was checking his phone more often than usual. Glancing at the screen between bites of his steak then trying to figure out where you left off in the conversation. 

You hadn’t even planned on drinking, but the chilled cocktail in front of Dave had been taunting you, begging to help obliterate your lingering thoughts. Then it was I’ll have another, Maybe one more, Suuuuure another sounds grreat. The dim restaurant turned into hazy fractures of light. The steady buzz of alcohol had you feel giggling and sleepy, slumping back into the velvet cushion of the intimate booth. Dave cut you off before things turned into a wild evening, shifting from your introverted self into a very lively and friendly drunk. 

You don’t even remember getting back to the room, just brief glimpses of Dave undressing you and helping you into one of his shirts, then tucking you into bed. 

“Hold up. Rewind— you fucking hate martinis! What the hell happened?!” She knows you so well. 

“Jacey, you’re my best friend. Someone who will be straight with me no matter what. I think— Do you think Dave is cheating on me?” You ask meekly, inhaling another minty pull from your nearly finished cigarette. 

“What?! Babe, why would you think Dave is cheating on you? Did something happen?”

““No— I mean yes. I think so. Fuck! I don't know what to think. We got back to the room after the pool yesterday, talked for a little bit then I went to get ready for dinner. I guess he thought I closed the door or something but I could hear him talking to someone—“ You try to keep your voice steady, finding it hard to blink the tears away as the wind whips around you. 

“Okay. Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s cheating on you. It could have just been more work shit he said he wasn’t going to do. Maybe he figured he could squeeze it in before dinner— not wanting to upset you.” Jacey is all about layout the facts and details before jumping down dark rabbit holes. 

“Ashley— Her name is Ashley. I heard him say her name.” 

There’s a beat of silence on the line before you hear her sigh. 

“Oh— what else did you hear?” She says, sounding a little more somber than before. 

“Nothing. My brain kind of went blank after that and I just got ready for dinner like I didn’t hear anything. Hence the abundance of martinis I drank my way through. Which also explains the slight headache I woke up with this morning.”

“Okay. So whoever he was talking to—“

“Ashley.” Details Jacey. 

“Right, Ashley. We don’t really know much, aside from that. So it could be anyone. Could be work related— Ashley could be a last name too. You know how they always do that last name first thing for whatever reason.” Somehow she always finds a way to get you to back away from the cliff, especially when your feet are over the edge. 

“Yeah, probably.” You say softly in agreement. A flock of birds catching your attention, their wings moving in unison as they fly overhead. 

“Look, like you said before— I’m gonna be straight with you. I don’t think Dave is cheating or would ever cheat. That man loves you. Sure, he’s kind of been a little too invested in work, which is affecting things with you. I don’t think there’s someone else. I promise. But I do think you both need to talk instead of this weird dance you both are doing, that way you’re both on the same page.”

“Okay. Yeah— you’re right. Thank you, Jace. Last thing— Does it make me a bad person if I had a dream about another man last night?” You ask, feeling a bit embarrassed as you voice it out loud. 

“I have those all the time— especially with that cute actor from that narcos show we love. Dreams don’t equate to real life.” She only slightly laughs at your confession. 

“What if it was with a guy I met at the pool who’s staying in the hotel, who listened to me spill my life away about how I’m not sure if my husband wants kids or not now— and how marriage feels like a mess.” 

“Oh! Pool guy was cute— No, I don’t think that makes you a bad person. Your thoughts are just all over the place right now. It was a dream. You’re fine. Hey, I hate to bail on you— but I’m umm, getting another call. We will chat soon, then you can give me more details about the cute pool guy. Love you!”

“Love you too, Jace. Talk soon. Bye.”

The call clicks out. Waves crashing onto the shore brings you back to the beach. Your cheeks cold and feet stinging as the water recedes again. 

It's nearing 10 am now, deciding to head back before Dave does in fact worry that you’ve been gone for too long. You snuff out the smoldering cigarette in the wet sand and stick it in your bag to dispose of later. The added nicotine now mingles poorly with your lingering hangover, body in desperate need of water and a strong pain reliever. 

On your way back to the hotel, you take every bit of what Jacey said and truly let it sink in, even as hard as it is to not let your mind wander into dark territory. She’s right though, it doesn’t do you any good to dwell on situational events if you have zero proof of anything. That doesn’t mean that you’ve written off your uneasiness completely, just simply tucking it away for the time being. 

The sweet bellmen welcomes you back with a friendly smile and a wave as he holds the door open for your return. The lobby now bustles with more guests than earlier. Some checking in for their stay, others enjoying the picturesque ambience of the hotel. 

In the time that it takes to get up to your room, you’ve run through several different scenarios in your head. All feeling immensely overwhelming at the thought of talking with Dave about how you’ve been feeling since he hasn’t seemed to pick up on the subtle inklings that there’s been a definite shift in your relationship the past few months. You’re not really sure you even want to have the conversation now, let alone here— not wanting to ruin the rest of the vacation in the chance things don’t go as smoothly as you want. You ultimately decide to wait, once you’ve settled back in at home, finally address everything with him.

You can hear Dave’s voice muffled outside the door of your room as you search for your key card in your bag, sounding as if he’s talking to someone on the phone. 

The room is bright as you enter, the curtains pulled open allowing the sun to shine through the large windows. The bed is somewhat made with the pillows stacked neatly and sheets straightened in an orderly Dave manner. 

Food had already been ordered and delivered, set out on the small table on the balcony. Your favorite breakfast of eggs benedict and toast along with a fresh pot of coffee. Dave’s usual eggs and bacon sit untouched, waiting for your return to enjoy breakfast together. 

Dave’s standing in front of the window, looking out at the scenery with his phone to his ear, but the sound of you entering the room has him turning towards you. 

His hair is freshly washed, combed up and out of his face. Wearing his favorite blue jeans snug around his hips, a white patterned shirt just barely buttoned to reveal enough of his slightly burnt chest to make your mouth water. It’s his beaming smile, arguably his best accessory, that makes your chest flutter, drawing you in closer to where he’s standing. 

“It’s my mother.” He whispers, covering the phone with his hand as she continues to talk into his ear. 

Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then. Still wondering what her vague text message meant. 

“Yeah, Mom. She just walked through the door.” You hear her mention your name through the speaker. “My mom says hi.”

“Hi, Carol.” You say sweetly, kissing Dave’s cheek before turning to place your bag on the ground near the dresser, leaning back on the wall, watching Dave as he finishes the rest of the conversation. 

“Okay, sounds good…Tell dad hello for us and we’ll talk to you later… Love you, too… bye.” The screen of his phone goes black and he tosses it over to the bed. 

Grabbing a glass and some small pills resting on the dresser, closing the short distance to where you’re standing and holding the water and pain reliever out to you.

“I figured your head is probably killing you this morning.” Dave says smiling at you, no sign of annoyance in his face. 

“Thanks— Sorry about last night. I don’t know what got into me.” Tossing back the pills back, gulping the water down quickly, your focus on the remaining drops of water sliding down the side of the glass, pooling together at the bottom. 

Dave takes the glass from you, setting it over on the top of the dresser. One of his hands settles on your hip as the other tilts your chin up so your gaze is now directed at him. 

“Did you have a good walk?” Dave asks. One of his warm hands now cupping the side of your neck, surely he can feel the way your pulse is quickening, elevated just by a simple touch from him. 

“Yeah. It was nice— foggy, but beautiful. We should go again before we leave.” Your hands migrate to his shirt, fingers absentmindedly toying with the top abandoned buttons and soft silky fabric.

“Umm— I can smell the smoke on you. It’s fine, I don’t mind that you were— but is everything okay?” He knows, senses something is off, because he knows you don’t just smoke to smoke these days. Senses there’s something that triggered your need for your old vice, something to dull out whatever is silently bothering you. 

Yet somehow you have almost forgotten about the cigarette until now when he asks. Feeling a bit of shame for the second time again this morning, though you don’t pick up on any sort of judgment when he does ask about it. 

“Everything is fine. Just sounded good so I bought them on my way to the beach— don’t think I’ll even finish the pack though. I’m good.” Liar. You hate the way Dave winces at your answer. He knows there’s something simmering below the surface, but he doesn’t push for more. 

“Okay— okay. There’s breakfast here and I was thinking afterwards we could go to some shops or something. I made reservations for tonight at 6, I thought you might want to find something new to wear. Maybe we can grab some lunch near the beach too.” He tells you, brushing off the small specks of sand cemented to your face. 

You find yourself on the brink of tears, swallowing the little lump that started to form in your throat. Certain the next few days would be filled with worriment and noiseless vexation. There’s almost relief in hearing how he’s planned out the day, something he hasn’t done in months. Work and meetings always at the forefront of his planning lately, leaving little to no time for dinners or regular weekend getaways. 

“Or we can stay in if you want.” His head tilts a little, brown eyes scanning over every detail of your face as you mull over his plans a little longer than he expected. 

“No, that sounds nice. I brought some dresses that I can wear though, we don’t have to buy anything.” You shake your head in response. Pushing a few loose strands that had fallen out of place, his eyes closing at the sensation of your fingers combing through his hair. 

“We can just look, and if you find something you like we can get it.” Dave suggests— a nice middle ground. 

He leans in, his nose knocking against yours, humming as you continue to play with his hair. 

“Okay.” You breathe out, his intense eye contact starting to ignite something within you. 

“You’re sure everything’s okay?” Offering you another opportunity to bare it all out for him. 

His lips graze over yours when he asks, just enough to have you wanting more. 

“Yeah. Everything is fine— promise.” 

“Alright. Let’s get some food in you and then we can get ready to head out. And there’s coffee—” His thought abandoned, his lips crashing into yours in a passionate kiss. 

You eagerly respond, wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses you further into the wall. Your head swirling with want, thrilled at the fact that he’s so keen to give you exactly what you’ve been craving. The scent of his cologne mixed with the musky smell of him fills your senses, making you weak for him even more.

His tongue explores your mouth, tangled together in a heated dance as your bodies grind against each other, arousal growing with each passing moment. 

His hands roam freely over your body, stopping at your hips to pull you in even closer has you gasping into his mouth.  

“Fuck— Dave!”

“Yeah— that feel good, Baby?” Dave’s hard almost instantly, pressing against you as you slowly grind on him. You're scorching from the friction of your bodies, the coil already winding in your lower abdomen, shivers tingling up your spine.

“Yes!! Oh god, yes!! So good, Dave!” You cry out. The heat between you unbearable, the need for release is all consuming—- more more more. 

Dave’s lips fuse to yours again, dragging one hand down between your bodies. He slips under the waistband of your leggings, deft fingers finding the damp fabric of your panties, a sticky mess because of him. He’s enlivened by the way your body writhes as a result of his touch. Fingers circling over your clit in a deliberate frenzied manner, causing you to release a breathy moan into his mouth.

“You think you can come right here? I’m not gonna last much longer.” He says breaking the kiss. His eyes are filled with a burning desire as he looks at you. You nod, encouraging him to continue his ministrations, before he’s capturing your lips again. 

You whine at the loss of his fingers moving over your aching bundle of nerves, your body in dire need of his touch now that he’s giving you all of it. 

Dave’s hands slip under your top, fingers trailing over your pebbled skin as he pulls it up and over your head. You help him, tossing it aside, leaving you in only your lace bra and bottoms as you lean back against the coolness of the wall, chest heaving with need.

“More— pl-please, I’m almost there. ohfuckyesyesyes!.” His hands explore your body, memorizing every curve and dip with a new surge of want and urgency, his fingers trailing down your back to grip your ass and pulling you closer— sparks of pleasure blazing through you nearing a fiery release. 

‘I know baby, I’ve got you’ murmured against your neck, his words riddled with assurance as he sucks on the sensitive skin there. 

Your hands grip his shoulders as he continues to explore you with his mouth, caressing every inch of you as he makes his way down to your chest, pulling the fabric of your bra down, his fingers gliding over the tight skin. He cups the weight of your breast in his hand, taking one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, teeth gently nipping as you moan louder and louder, while his other hand fondles and twists at your other side. 

“Oh fuck! Baby, I’m gonna come—“ You gasp, arching your back, your nails digging into Dave’s shoulders has him clamping down harder on your overly sensitive nipple. The pleasing painful sting shoots straight to your core, your velvet walls pulsating, your climax within reach.

A pleasurable ache builds for the second time this morning, except this time it’s because of Dave. All your pent up emotions forging together, building into the most magnificent wave of arousal you’ve felt in a long time. 

You pull his face up to meet yours, lips messily crashing against his in another bliss driven kiss. His hard cock straining behind the tightness of his jeans, tilting your cunt at the perfect angle while hoping Dave is reaping the benefits of your euphoric pursuit as you grind down on the rough seam of his denim that helps careen you over the edge. 

It’s like a dream— except it's not, it’s better. Real and satiating. Your orgasm is forceful as it rips through you, taking every bit of residual tension along with it. 

Dave’s movements become faster and more charged. His hips moving in a stuttering pattern— fuckfuckfuck —then stilling as a deep groan barrels through his chest. You wrap a leg around him as he collapses into you, his face nestled in the crook of your neck, holding him tightly to your body. 

A breeze blows through the open balcony door, diffusing the layer of sexual haze wafting through the room. The air is welcoming, enveloping your bodies in the crispness that comes with being in close proximity to the Pacific. 

It feels lighter. Less suffocating— even with the weight of your husband holding you against the wall. The low lying fog no longer a dense cloud looming over you, allowing the brightness to fully shine through. 

The turbulent thoughts have settled, replaced with a mildness that seems more manageable for the time being. Your headache becomes a subsiding dullness, overpowered by the replenishment of a compelling desire. 

“Shit— I came in my fucking pants like a goddamn teenager. Couldn’t even make it to the bed.” He says, post sexual vibrato etched into his voice, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone as he lifts himself up to his full height. 

Dave’s skin is glowing, a sheen of sweat glistening in the morning light. His cheeks flushed with a tinge of pink, the muscles in his neck flexing as he worked to control his breathing. The silkiness of his shirt now damp and stuck to his chest. 

“Hmm. I feel too good to even care. You have no idea how bad I needed that.” You smile at him, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, brushing a few fallen strands of hair away from his face. 

The corner of his eyes crinkle. He’s beaming, infatuated with you as he leans in, resting his forehead on yours and whispers, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?.” 

“Love you too, Dave.”

[528-hotline]

🦢🍵🩰 ryujin nippon in bed …

featuring | ran takahashi , yuki ishikawa , kento miyaura

pairing | dom!player x fem!reader

cw | 18+ smut, slight rough sex, slight bulge kink, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, slight degradation, choking, cunnilingus, praise, petnames (baby, bub, princess)

a/n 💌 welp…… i said i want to write ran, right? 😅 after learning them and appearing constantly on my tt fyp, ishikawa & miyaken got me too 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this is self indulgent so let me write for my top 3 😻

and also we need more n/sfw rjn writers!!! this is your sign to write them 😼 i’ll def eat them up & be moots with you guys 😁🍽️

NSFW UNDER THE CUT ! (18+ ONLY) MINORS DNI

ran takahashi .

most of the time, he’s a softie in bed, he could be rough but in some instances only, when he really needs you or when he feels stressed or frustrated. literally a service dom, he always asks permission or are you okay or feel good while doing it.

“is it okay if i go faster, baby?” ran asked you, his cheeks flushed, breathing heavily. you gave him a reassuring smile, giving him the permission to do so. “mhm, ‘s okay, bub…”

he gradually increases the pace, as he holds your thigh up for more access, as the other one is underneath your abdomen, feeling his bulge piercing through it, “feel good?”

“ngh… y-yes… feels soso good…” you moaned, eyes rolling back, feeling his cock nearly hitting the spot. all you need is for him to be a little bit more faster and to make him press his cock even further. “can you go a bit faster and rougher than usual, bub?”

“are you sure?” he asks you in a gentle manner and a hint of concern in his tone. “y-yes please, ‘m almost there…” you pleaded, and he nodded, he does one sharp thrust, making you gasp before he thrusts his cock in even faster. you swore that you almost felt like you were in cloud nine when he pressed his cock even further, making him reach the spot you wanted him to be in the most.

“fuck, that’s it! agh!” you whimpered as he hisses in satisfaction, he felt your walls clench into his cock, as he uncontrollably thrusts his cock in and out of your pussy, his mind lost in the bliss.

“been wanting to have you like this, gonna make sure you cum all over me, princess…”

yuki ishikawa .

if you get this man in his nerves or when he loses a match while also being sexually frustrated, you better be nervous. definitely the type who wouldn’t let you touch your own pussy because he firmly believes that he’s the only one who could make you feel good. could make you dumb over his cock & can be degrading at times.

“i-i’m sorry, yuki! agh!” you cried from pleasure, feeling lightheaded as your face buried in the pillow, making you suffocated. yuki rams your insides from behind, thrusting into you in an animalistic pace. “look at you, i think your slutty pussy’s clenching.. are you cumming, hm?” he coos at you, as he slaps your clit, making you yelp in pleasure.

“agh! p-please, please! i-i’m sorry for touching! i’m about to cum!” you pleaded, letting out soft cries, thinking he would try to tone it down a bit, but your pleas never fazed him from what you did to him behind his back while he’s away.

he grabs your hair, making you lean his chest, he whispers, “see, if you really want to cum, then why did you break my rules?” as he grabs your neck, choking you with his hands, making you lose your breath even more.

“i-i… ngh– fuck!” your brain short circuited, as no answer was coming out of your mind, and the only thing that you’re thinking is to cum all over his cock.

“such a dumb cockslut, can’t even answer me properly,” he pushed you back, as he grabs your waist, thrusting you in and out of his dick as if you’re a fleshlight, your head landing back to the tear and drool stained pillows.

“c-can’t take it– agh! please!” your legs were already quivering from pleasure, nearly cumming any second. he knew that you’re about to cum when your legs start to shake, but as a punishment, he pulled out his dick, making you clench over nothing. “w-why… why would you–“ you hiccuped, as cry out of frustration because you wanted to cum so bad, but he chose to stop when you were literally about to cum.

“impatient cumsluts don’t deserve it, so why would i continue?” maybe breaking the rules after him losing a match and being punished like this was not in your bingo card.

kento miyaura .

probably gives one of the best oral & you cannot convince me otherwise, like have you seen him when he shows off his tongue… it’s quite long & thick… him eating you out + fingering = heaven sent … probably tends to forget that you’re already being overstimulated, but he just can’t get enough of you & also thinks you’re really cute when you get all overstimulated by him, that’s why he can’t get himself to stop.

“k-kento… f-fuck… i– agh….” you moaned in estacy, your hands grabbing on to your bedsheets while his mouth attached to your clit as his tongue moves in a circular motion around the bud, while two of his long fingers are ramming your insides. you were losing it because it gets faster and faster every second.

“what baby?” he detached his mouth away, looking at your eyes from above as he continues to finger you, gradually getting faster. “i… y-you know i get overstimulated when you do– ngh! that…”

“go baby, i’d like to see you try and stop me,” he teases you, flashing a smirk before he reattached his mouth to your clit, making harsher and faster circular motions. your eyes were flickering from pleasure, your thighs started to quiver as his other hand had to hold your thigh to keep your legs from closing.

“fuckfuck! ‘m almost there!” you grabbed his hair as you arched your back, eyes rolling back from the pleasure hiking up to your senses. “ken– p-please! agh..!” you whimpered, thighs shaking as your cum on his fingers, detaching his mouth away from your clit. he pulls out his fingers away from your pussy, feeling empty and passing out from how hard you came.

he climbs back to the headboard, where you’re laying down, as he noticed your eyes were already falling. “woah there, babe! don’t sleep on me! do you really think were done?” kento slaps your cheek playfully, refraining you from sleeping. “w-what do you mean?”

“we’re just getting you started, princess. this is going to be a long night.” he whispers in your ear, as he proceeds on kissing your neck. i mean, how could you say no to this man.

[quirklessidiot]

title: Y/N and her boys [sneak peek] pairing : Upper classman/popular kid!Gojo Satoru x F!reader, Exchange student!Eren Jaeger x F!reader, MMA Fighter/Celebrity!Ryomen Sukuna x F!reader, Childhood Bestfriend!Aki Hayakawa x F!reader, Varsity football player!Itoshi Rin x F!reader (use of she/her pronouns) Genre: Alternate Universe-University setting, romance, fluff, angst (if you squint), slice of life, drama, all cliche romance genres unite! (Based on the Manhwa, Bunny and her Boys)

Summary: Y/N’s denied the existence of pretty boys and god forbid she’d ever end up dating one yet with one horrid break-up, she decides that relationships aren’t just meant for someone stupid like her but the problem is — five of them suddenly appear and god, why does it seem like they can’t get enough of her?

General warning for the story: mild sexual content, cliche tropes (help), mahito is his own warning, minor character death, mentions of depression, a lot of second-hand embarrassment from y/n's part (shes not a cool girl, SHE IS A BUBBLING MESS AND THATS OK <33), insecurities, bullying, and mentions of cheating Notes: english isn't my first language! (dont judge me) this multi-chaptered story will probably be 20-30 chapters (idk) in ao3. you can totally tell this story is rooted from self-indulgence LMFAO. Im not sure if i should cross post it but im leaning towards ao3 more either ways, can't wait to release this on friday!

also can u guess who she ends up with :P rb’s are appreciated yay FULL VERSION IS RIGHT HERE!

SNEAK PEAK

“Maybe…Maybe we should break up.”

There's another round of silence between you two, and you know that you can’t exactly take it back anymore since you had said it loud and clear, “Woah, woah, I told you I wasn’t with Misa.” his voice turns louder, and the background noises are good as gone as if he had left the noisy place, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you-”

“I said,” you try to control the stammering of your voice, trying to avoid the stares of the people who cast odd glances, “We’re done. I don’t want to see or hear from you again.” and before he could let another excuse out of his mouth, you end the call. It is only now that you notice how your legs have been quivering and your mouth has gone dry, seemingly like a pup who had just been born and trying to walk. You lose your footing and sit down on the dirty pavement.

No tears were shed at that very moment, probably because you were only stupefied, and it was written clearly on your face that this wouldn’t be something you’d recover anytime soon. Heck, you couldn’t even grasp the idea entirely that someone you’ve been friends with for years and, eventually, a lover would do that to you.

Was it as easy as a snap of a finger?

“Miss? Miss?” someone calls out, but it only bounces back to him like an echo in a cave. You remain still, eyes blinking rapidly while the rest of your face is slack. Everyone around you continued to move, but you remained there like a decorated statue.

“Miss? Christ, you’re about to be–” the husky voice also stops, and it’s only now that you look up to find a man. He seems stocky but, simultaneously, smaller, as if he didn’t want to come off as intimidating when he maintained eye-to-eye contact. 

He is incongruous with everyone who walks by since he desperately tries to hide his features with a baseball cap and a dark face mark. The only thing you can see are strands of his bleached hair, his eyes that resemble the sunshine that peeked through the glasses of whiskey, and the swirls of ink becoming visible underneath his coat when he stretches out his arm.

If this were any other day, you’d run in the opposite direction because he looked like an unscrupulous loan shark, but your body remains in a state of unknown fatigue that you just wanted to stay still. 

You watch as his face softens, the lines on his forehead somewhat disappearing when he watches the color bleed from your face. “...Alright…” he stops, squinting as he crouches to your level. His thick thighs encompass the rough expanse of his straight jeans, and you wondered if he had been an athlete or something. Aside from his built, his presence was rather invigorating,  “oh…” he continues, “Sorry, you-uh…” The confidence he had to throw you off is gone like the evening dust as he motions his index finger up and down his face.

At that moment, you feel something wet running down your cheek. It seemed like the waterworks were late.

You didn’t want to be a pity party in front of anyone, and you’d expect there to be only bystanders, not ‘good samaritans’.

You sniffled, violently wiping the tears away as you felt your ribs were too tight when you took one long breath, “I’m fine…” you respond monotonously.

Who were you even fooling? 

“Right…” you carefully watch him take out a handkerchief, “Fine, sitting on a dirty pavement near my car doesn’t make you look fine, Miss.” he prodded.

“Well, what do you care, anyways?” you tried to keep your voice from cracking, but the stranger showed no qualms of anxiety or fear, nor did he seem mad at your snappy attitude. The blue handkerchief is laid on his palm, waiting for you to take it, yet you exhibit no signs of accepting his kindness. Instead of forcing you through like the usual status quo, he returns it to his pockets.

The odd man.

“Well, for one, I don’t want to run your feet over since I’m parked over here,” he thumbs towards the black jeep that’s parked in front of you, “And my mom didn’t raise me to leave a girl sitting alone, crying her eyes out…”

“Well, did your mom tell you to mind your own business, as well?” your body remains heavy and distant from the stranger, not minding if it came off as rude, but you’ve always been wary of them, especially the ones who claimed to be nice. You wouldn’t be swayed even if you were in a vulnerable place.

He sucks in a deep breath, quite surprised that you had the energy to exchange a vehement response to him. Weren’t you just about to bawl your eyes out?

“Well, you honestly looked like you deserve some niceness after whatever happened.” he conceded, remaining suspiciously friendly, “Piece of advice, though, if it’s a guy, he’s not worth it.” 

“I-what makes you think it’s a guy?” there it goes again, the unknown tightening of your throat and the way the gummy lids on your eyes would heat up as if a pipe of water was about to burst and flood the segways any moment.

“It’s always an asshole who doesn’t seem to know how to treat a woman right.” he lamely explains, and slowly but hesitantly, as if he was waiting for you to move away, he places one hand on top of your hand. 

Unlike a while ago, you weren’t as hostile, but you were confused about why the stranger suddenly did this and didn’t seem to tilt away like you usually would, “So go home tonight, Miss. Cry it out and wake up tomorrow for yourself. You’ll be fine.”

You don’t even see his entire face, but the way he gently caresses your hair as if you were a long-time friend had your lips quivering, and without even realizing it, your torso bends forward. You bury your face in your arms, finding solace in your makeshift fetal position.

The stranger says nothing more; honestly, you didn’t even mind. His newfound presence is comforting.