#update: 2.5k followers

[trans-cuchulainn]

for the most part tumblr is by far the most bearable social media platform because the website itself doesn't seem hostile to human existence but boy some users really try to change that

[cas-backwards-tie]

Guys I hit 2.5k followers finally! 😭🥹🥳🙌🏻🫂 I feel like I should do a celebration of some sort? Any ideas? Suggestions? 💕

[stuckybarton]

Happy 2.5k

After the daily bot purging I've discovered I've got over 2.5k people following me now.

So thank you for that. i haven't been as active as i used to be and just updating one story right now, but you know--i'm ready to pop the baby in a few weeks so there is that. but either way, thank you so much for everything guys! it means the most to me~

[janaispunk]

come morning light

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.5k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury

a/n: i'm finally finished with chapter 2, and once again nervous af about it haha. there's not terribly much happening in this one, but i promise we'll get there, it just needs the buildup :)

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading <3

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

You don’t feel like you’ve slept at all, but after hours of tossing and turning in the darkness of your bedroom, you think it’s probably time to get up. 

You’re halfway convinced that last night’s events were a product of your imagination, that your mind has felt so lonely that it conjured up the whole scenario. But when you step out of your bedroom and find the door of your parents’ bedroom only halfway closed, the way you have never left it before saying good night to Ellie earlier, you have to come to terms with the fact that this might actually be your reality. 

Ellie seems to be sound asleep, a lump under the covers, softly breathing, but when you head to the living area and switch on one of the smaller lamps, you’re met with the piercing glare of Joel. He’s still lying on the couch, much like you left him, still pale, still dark shadows under his eyes, but he’s much more awake now, his gaze following your every move. 

“Hey,” you say softly, sinking down on the same armchair that you sat in when you watched him last night while Ellie took a shower. You suppress a shudder at the way he regards you, his eyes flicking up and down your body, taking in your size, you presume, searching for weapons. Your gun is tucked into the waistband at the back of your pants, which you’re sure he’s already aware of. You don’t like the way he makes you feel, like somehow you’re intruding on him. You should have the upper hand, this is your home and he’s injured, you helped him for crying out loud, and here you are, nervously watching his every move. You did the right thing. It’s gonna be fine. 

“Where’s Ellie?” he asks, ignoring your greeting, his voice gruff. 

“Sleeping,” you reply, nodding your head to the bedroom door. “She’s okay, I promise.” 

Some of the tension seems to release from his body and he slumps back down a little, but the distrust in his expression when he looks at you doesn’t waver. Then again, you’re probably not much different. 

“Look,” you sigh, “I’m not playing some kind of game here. You came into my house, I saw that you needed help, so I helped.” You try to infuse your voice with as much confidence as you can. “Don’t make me regret that, okay?” 

He shrugs, a noncommittal grunt the only verbal answer. It could potentially be interpreted as a thanks, you guess. In a less tense situation, you’d probably grow annoyed by now. Shrugging yourself, you get to your feet and head to the kitchen. Anything to escape the way he’s watching your every movement.

“Hey, do you want coffee?” You don’t really want to offer him any, but you’d feel weird drinking it yourself without asking. 

He pipes up at the question, head turning in your direction, his face the most open that you’ve seen it yet. “You have coffee?” 

“Yeah.” That’s why I’m fucking asking. 

“I– yes.” A breath, a second of him not meeting your eyes. “Thanks.” 

You smile, small, fleetingly, busying yourself with the ground beans and the boiling water, reveling in the smell that slowly spreads throughout the room. It reminds you of happier times, when the world was still normal. 

He has pushed himself into a sitting position, breathing heavily, when you walk over to hand him the steaming cup, still careful to keep your distance. 

After you sit back down, the both of you stay silent for a few minutes. You enjoy the bitter taste on your tongue, the way you slowly feel your energy rising. 

“Does it hurt much?” you ask eventually, gesturing towards his stomach. 

Another grunt, the hint of a head shake. 

“So it does.” He opens his mouth, the protest most likely already on his tongue, and you raise an eyebrow. “I have painkillers, are you sure that you–”

“No.” It comes fast, his voice raised, no room for arguments.

You instinctively flinch back at the unexpected louder sound, the cup shaking in your grip. You set it down on the table in front of you. Have your hands free, just in case.

There’s a hint of regret in his eyes, his free hand slightly raised, palm open. He’s trying to calm you down, you realize. 

“Okay,” you breathe, working hard to keep your voice steady, “no painkillers, got it.” 

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face half hidden, words almost lost behind the cup. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s alright,” you tell him as much as yourself. 

You’ve gotten jumpy, not used to loud sounds anymore, raised voices, not used to humans in general, you suppose. You hadn’t fully realized it until now, until there’s other humans around you again.

“Thank you,” he continues unexpectedly, “not just for the coffee, but– you know.” He’s struggling, the words not coming easily, but you think that he’s being earnest. “Patching me up.”

“Of course.” You nod hastily, your heart still beating a little too fast. 

Another moment passes in silence, both of you slowly sipping the coffee. He’s looking around, taking in his surroundings, eyes lingering on the closed wooden doors and the stairs leading up. You try not to get nervous about it. It’s normal that he would want to know more about where he is, after all. 

“This is the basement, right? Is it safe?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “No way to get in from outside.” As long as you stay inside, you’re safe.

He hums, appreciatively, you think.

“How long have you been living here?” 

“Always. It’s my parents’ house. I mean–” you laugh, but it comes out hollow, “we lived upstairs, obviously. But my dad was… kinda crazy. Or– not that crazy, I guess, all things considered.” Your lips curl into a wry smile. 

Your mind flashes back to long lectures about survival techniques, learning how to shoot, your father going on and on about first aid, hunting, all the things that you couldn’t have cared less about as a teenage girl, but were ingrained in your brain nonetheless. You’re grateful, now, but it’s laced with guilt about how often you snapped at your father, how often you told him he was paranoid, seeing dangers that weren’t there, that he was wasting your time. You couldn’t have known, the rational part of you argues. But you can never take it back now, the guilt whispers. 

When you look up, Joel’s eyes are on you, eyebrows raised in question. You shake your head, trying to clear it. Stay in the present.

“Sorry, what did you–?” 

Worry is painting his expression. “Are you okay?” 

Don’t show weakness. “Yeah, of course. Just spaced out for a second.” 

You force a smile onto your face and stand up rather abruptly, gathering both cups and putting them into the sink. Joel hasn’t moved, but you feel his eyes on you as you move. 

“Do you, um, do you want to shower, maybe? Or just wash up, I don’t know, how–” You gesture towards the dried bloodstain on his flannel, forcefully keeping your tone light. “I have clean clothes, too, if you want.” 

A shiver runs through you at the thought of going through your dad’s things, of someone else wearing them. He doesn’t need them anymore. He’s not coming back. 

You know that you’ve gone silent for too long again even before you see Joel’s expression. He doesn’t ask this time, but there’s something in his eyes that you can’t place, something that almost looks like understanding. 

“Yeah, I guess cleaning up a bit would be nice. I– thank you. Again” 

His voice is gruff and he avoids your eyes. You think that he doesn’t like it, having to thank you. Owing you. 

Giving him a nod, you head to the bedroom, hoping not to disturb Ellie, but she’s awake already, her eyes glinting in the light that’s falling into the dark room from the living area. You clench your jaw, heading for one of the drawers, trying hard not to think about what you’re doing. It’s not like he ever wore this stuff, it was just sitting down here. It’s fine, you’re fine. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not about you,” Ellie says quietly from beside you, breaking through your racing thoughts. 

You turn towards her, confusion on your face. “What is?”

“Joel,” she shrugs, still keeping her voice low. “He’s like that with everyone. He’s a bit of an asshole, really.” She sounds fond, saying it, like it’s an endearing character trait. 

A surprised laugh escapes you. “I– okay, thanks, I guess.” 

She waves it away, swinging her feet out of the bed. “No, thank you for not murdering me in my sleep.” 

“Yeah, likewise.” You shake your head, still laughing to yourself. It’s so easy to like the girl, to feel like you already know her. 

You hand Joel a pile of clothes, purposefully avoiding to look at them too closely, explain where the towels are and he grumbles his approval before the bathroom door closes behind him. 

You release a breath and close your eyes for a second. You are undeniably warming up to Ellie, finding it almost impossible not to, but her companion is a different story. 

“Hey, do you drink coffee?” you ask in the direction of the bedroom. 

“Ew, no!” comes her reply as she steps out of the door, collecting the wild mess of hair on the top of her head and securing it in a ponytail.

Her offense at the mere suggestion makes you chuckle under your breath as you busy yourself with preparing breakfast in the form of porridge instead. She’s leaning against the doorframe, watching you, her eyes wide as she takes in the cupboards full of supplies. 

You’re glad that you don’t need anything from the storeroom, keeping that door in the corner firmly closed. You want to trust her, want to trust them, but a feeling of unease still lingers at the thought of letting them know just how much you have.

Instead, you voice another question, a thought that fills you with unease as well. 

“Hey,” you begin, keeping your eyes trained on the stove, “I’m sorry, but you and Joel, there– there isn’t anything weird going on, is there?” 

“Like what?” She sounds slightly defensive, but when you steal a glance at her, she’s eyeing you with curiosity. 

“I don’t know, like…” You shrug, stirring the mixture of water and oats, “you want to be here, he’s not forcing you to come with him or anything, right?” 

“No, don’t worry about that,” comes her reply, almost amused. It was a bit of a stupid question, when you think about it, considering how worried she was about him last night, how protective. 

“Okay,” you smile at her. You’re curious nonetheless, how they ended up together and where they’re headed, but it’s probably not really your place to ask. 

You divide the porridge into three bowls and hand her one, while you carry yours and one for Joel back to the living area and set them down on the wooden table. 

Ellie starts shoveling the food down immediately and you’re left wondering once more what happened to them and when they last ate something. 

“So…” Ellie begins, her mouth still half full, “you’re just down here with all this food? Because your dad stored it here, before… things went to shit?” 

You can’t blame her for her curiosity, you’re aware that you’ve probably found yourself in a better living situation than most people. Your thoughts go to the storeroom again, basically stuffed with enough supplies to last you multiple lifetimes, especially now that it’s just… No.

You hum in affirmation, not trusting your voice and you’re thankful that she’s too distracted by her breakfast to notice anything weird about your reaction. 

“So you don’t go out hunting or anything?” comes her next question. You freeze. 

You did go hunting, back when you cared about variance in the meals you prepared, about using fresh ingredients when you could. Until there was no need for that any more. 

You realize that Ellie is saying your name, not for the first time, judging from the look on her face. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, your hands tightening around the bowl. “No, I- I don’t go hunting.”

If she finds the situation weird, she shrugs it off impressively fast. 

She nods to herself, eating quietly for a minute, before she speaks up again. “So what do you… do? Down here all day?” 

“Uh…” What is it that you do all day? Time has been blurring together, days without anything happening repeating on a constant loop. You realize that you don’t remember, can’t talk of any activities that are part of your day. How long has it been like this?

You’re relieved from having to answer by Joel emerging from the bathroom, his face pale and his breaths going heavy. He has put on the sweatpants you gave him, but his torso is bare, the skin around the injury still an angry red. 

He sinks back down into the cushions with a heavy sigh and you quickly get to work, cleaning the wound once more and giving him more antibiotics before you redo the bandages and hope for the best. Your hands don’t shake as badly as they did last night. 

Ellie gets him some water and pushes his bowl of porridge into his hands, urging him to eat, before she turns to you. She’s trying to be strong, to hide her worry, but the pleading look in her eyes when she asks you if he’s gonna be okay tells a different story. 

“Of course,” you say, giving her what you hope to be a reassuring smile. 

Joel does look better after he’s eaten something, but his eyelids are drooping and after a few more minutes, his eyes close and his breath evens out. You do the dishes and check the cameras, calming down a bit more when you’re sure that everything seems to be quiet upstairs. 

When you return to the living area, Ellie is rummaging through her pack, muttering to herself, until she pulls a book out of, proudly turning the cover for you to read it. No pun intended - Volume Too.

She starts reading them to you while you settle back down with a second cup of coffee and you share her laughs, enjoying the way it makes her look lighter, allows her to be a kid who can laugh at stupid jokes. You ignore the sting it causes in your chest because you once knew someone who would have loved this book just as much as Ellie does.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Your Boyfriend Owen

Yandere Male x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon/dubcon, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, chaining, general yandere behavior, social awkwardness, creepy staring, mild scent kink.) Word Count: 2.5k (This was supposed to be a small couple hundred word drabble... oopsiedoodles...)

It was the first day of your last year in college.

At the end of class there was a student lingering at his desk. He was your age and of average build, maybe a bit on the skinny side, with disheveled medium length black hair that was a bit wet with sweat and glasses that were a bit crooked.

He seemed really distraught and panicky as he typed on his laptop.

You introduced yourself and asked him if he needed help with something.

He went silent and awkwardly stared at you for a moment before speaking.

“Uh… hi, I’m Owen.”

He was obviously not used to people approaching and talking to him.

I-I don’t know how to get assignments and submit them on this updated online portal we have this year! I just cannot figure it out!”

You leaned over his desk and took a look at his laptop, you happily showed him how to navigate the new system. You didn’t blame Owen for being so high strung, the classes were tough and this new portal was pretty confusing.

What you didn’t realize was that in this simple act of helping him you had made the biggest mistake of your life.

Owen was stunned that you were helping him. You must have liked him! No one was this nice to a random stranger.

As you leaned over his desk to use his laptop he noticed you smelled so nice.

If he hadn’t already been sweating from his previous issues with the student portal you may have noticed the blush that crept across his face.

When you finished he thanked you nervously before you left for your dorm.

There was plenty of foot traffic to and from the dorms, classes, and the food places on campus. It was very easy for Owen to go unseen as he followed you to your dorm.

He… just wanted to make sure you got there safely. And also wanted to see where you lived.

Over the course of the next few weeks Owen you constantly caught Owen staring at you in class and he never failed to greet you when you sat down or try to talk to you when you left. You were always polite but… it was a little creepy to be honest, but you ignored it because it was pretty harmless. He just had a crush on you.

It was far from harmless though, during the time of day that you had classes and he didn’t he would sneak into your dorm and take little “treasures” that he was sure you wouldn’t miss.

A used pair of underwear that still had your scent from the day before. Maybe a shirt if it wasn’t one of your favorites, he knew which ones you wore most often.

As far as he was concerned he was your boyfriend, even if you didn’t know it yet, and good boyfriends noticed small details like favorite clothes.

He also took note of super important information like what food seemed to be your favorite, wherever you ate lunch he was sure to be in the crowd watching you.

Things probably would have continued on like that for a lot longer, just a creepy stalker pining for you, but then one day you helped someone else in class.

They didn’t deserve to even breathe the same air as you! He was fuming, he clenched his hands so hard that his nails bruised his palms. To grace such a nobody with your assistance drove him beyond jealousy.

But that did not even compare to when he saw you the next day eating lunch with the slime ball.

Why would you do that to him? Surely you liked him, not this piece of shit. He must have forced himself into your space and you were just too sweet to push him away.

Owen had to do something before things escalated too far. And he didn’t have to wait too much longer to have his opportunity.

There was a huge Halloween party coming up and he knew for a fact you would be going.

He went with a masquerade ball costume, complete with an intricately decorated Venetian mask.

When you were at the party he waited for the perfect moment to make his move. He stared at you the entire time, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment. Even if he hadn’t been planning something he wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off you. You had decided to go as a pale faced vampire, it made him wonder what your teeth on his neck would feel like.

When you were all alone, and after your judgment was a bit off from a few drinks Owen came over and introduced himself and started chatting you up before offering you a drink.

He was a bit of an oddball, but he was always nice right? What was the harm?

You accepted the drink and soon everything was a blur. You weren’t rendered entirely unconscious, just helpless, compliant, and a touch clingy.

Owen escorted you out of the party with you leaning on him heavily, his face was red beneath his mask, his darling was relying on him for support! Just how it should always be~

Not many people at the party knew you, and even if they had they wouldn’t have thought much of you leaving in this manner, you just appeared to be a little drunk and leaving with someone who you trusted.

Owen stroked your cheek gently and guided you gently into the passenger seat of his car.

It was really happening, he was taking his love home.

He lived with his parents, in the large basement of their house. He was the true epitome of a basement dwelling freak.

You clung to him and nuzzled into his neck as he brought you inside. You didn’t know why, but you felt so needy.

He sat you down softly on the bed, he had changed the color of the sheets to match yours. He wanted you to feel at home and get adjusted to being here as quickly as possible and thought it may make the transition easier.

To that end he had also hung copies of the same posters you had hanging in your dorm, had the bookshelf filled with every book that he had ever seen you reading, and while everyone else was at the party he had even managed to snag a few things from your room.

Most notably your Nintendo switch and your blankets. They were drenched in your scent~

In your drugged state you couldn’t quite make sense of your surroundings… it looked kinda similar to your room… but not…

“Wh-wherrre aare w-w-weee?” You couldn’t speak without slurring your words.

“We’re home! Th-this is where you live now!

That didn’t seem right… did it? It felt a bit off… But why would this nice man lie to you? He gave you a drink and a ride… home.

“You’ll live here with me and I will take good care of you!”

“That’sss sooo n-nice of you”

Owen smiled, he knew you may feel differently once the drugs wore off, but he had taken precautions just in case. What mattered was that you were here, you weren’t leaving, and you’d eventually admit that you liked him and wanted to be here with him.

He sat down beside you on the bed and wiped the pale makeup from your face gently, you leaned into his touch with a cute sigh that made his heart swell and his cock twitch.

You were so perfect. Eventually you would be like this without the drugs, he just needed to be patient and train you until you saw that you needed him as much as he needed you. He had wanted to wait until that point to make love with you.

But… you were acting so sweet and needy. So malleable. And he could tell that you really needed it, your face was flushed and you kept grinding your crotch slowly against your arm that you had between your legs.

You stared up at him in confusion as he began to peel away his clothing, his cock bouncing free. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it. Then he carefully took off what you were wearing, slowly. He wanted to savor the moment. The person he loved more than anything else in the entire world was about to be revealed completely to him.

“So p-perfect~”

“Whaaaa are you doooinnng?” You looked up at him while not even noticing you were already grinding into your arm again.

He rubbed your thighs gently before replying.

“I’m g-going to help you with this,” he said as he caressed your crotch.

You blushed and smiled, in that moment all you could think that Owen was just so nice. He had already taken you home and now he was going to help you with your arousal too!

You spread your legs to allow for easier access as he fumbled with the lube.

He was considerably more nervous than before.

“I-it’s my first time, I hope I’m okay~ I-if I’m not we can pr-practice until I get it right!”

Owen applied the slick fluid liberally to his cock, where it mixed with the precum that his cock was practically drooling, then he scooted you to the edge of the bed and knelt between your legs, using his tongue to get you nice and stimulated.

The scent and flavor of you was almost enough to make Owen cum almost immediately, he was more drugged by your smell than you were on actual drugs. He moaned loud, taking it all in.

Before he caused either of you to orgasm before the main event he managed to pry himself away and apply lube to your entrance, sliding in a couple of fingers and twirling them around inside you.

You bucked and moaned, desperate to have more inside you as the lube mixed with all the saliva he had deposited inside you.

“Neeed morrrre,” You started crying a bit, you were just so desperate. You were like a bitch in heat and nothing would take care of it except Owen’s cock.”

“S-so needy! Don’t cry honey bun, I will take care of you!”

You tried to get your sobbing under control as he kissed you deeply.

“Gosh, y-you’re pretty even when you’re crying…

Then he stood beside the bed and propped your legs up on his shoulders. He rubbed the tip around your hole a bit, wanting to ingrain this moment into his memory for the rest of his life, before grabbing your hips and plunging his entire length inside of you in one movement.

The two of you gasped in unison, finally you felt that yearning void in you start to fill and he was inside of you.

It was much better than he had imagined in the fantasies he had so fervently jerked off to.

The heat, the tightness, your insides were enveloping his cock in pure bliss. And the smell of your sweat mingled with his and the scent of sex was just indescribable.

He slid in and out rhythmically, bending down and biting your neck as he did so. Claiming it as he sped up faster and faster.

Owen couldn’t help not lasting too long, and luckily for him you couldn’t either in your drugged state.

You cried out as you came hard, the force of your climax shaking through your body, pushing Owen over the edge. He filled you with plenty of cum before wrapping his arms around you lovingly.

“I love you so much!”

Your intoxicated mind felt the perfect response to this was, “I looo-love youuu toooo.”

When you woke up you were clothed and all cleaned up, and you could scarcely remember a single thing after the party. You had an awful headache and it took you a few moments to realize that this was certainly not your bedroom.

You felt someone spooning you from behind.

Owen. Owen was spooning you!

You must have gotten black out drunk and hooked up with him.

The thought made you feel sick to your stomach.

You immediately jumped out of bed and went to put your shoes on when you finally saw it.

A long thick chain that led to a shackle around your ankle.

You screamed.

Owen woke up instantly and tried to console you. He had been worried this may be your reaction.

“C-calm down honey b-bun. Just let me expla-”

“Don’t call me honey bun you sick freak!” You shouted the words with as much venom as you could muster, with tears threatening to roll down your face at any moment.

“HELP! HELP PLEASE!! SOMEON-”

Owen grabbed you from behind and put his hand over your mouth, using his other hand to hold you close to his shirtless form.

You still yelled, but it was pretty muffled. You could only hope someone had heard your initial outburst.

“Shh baby, calm down, it will be okay I promise~”

He kissed the top of your head and you tried to shake him off but you were still weak from last night, and he was stronger than you had anticipated. You finally went still and silently cried, your voice too strained now to say much of anything.

Then you heard footsteps coming from above you, they got louder as they approached. Did he have roommates? Had they heard your plea for help? You allowed a spark of hope to ignite inside of you.

You couldn’t see it, but Owen was blushing deeply.

“O-oh jeez, I didn’t want you to meet my parents y-yet. Not until you felt b-better.”

A man and a woman came down the steps. They both had features that reminded you of Owen.

The woman spoke while the man stood behind her, “Just what the HELL is going on at this early hour!? The sun is barely out and I have to work later tod-”

She met your eyes, only just now realizing that her son had someone in his arms. You could see her gaze follow the chain that bound your leg to the wall.

Seeing your tear streaked face, red and puffy from crying, shaking from fear, she gave a look of sympathy. Your hope grew. Would she help you escape her loony son? Your sore throat strained to form words, but they only came out muted and garbled through Owen’s hand.

“Owen! You didn’t tell us you were dating! Honestly, with how awkward you are, I was a bit afraid you’d never take a liking to someone.”

Then she looked at you again.

“You’ll be okay, I know it’s hard at first, but you’ll settle right in.”

“I-i made sure the shackle was lined with something s-soft so it doesn’t hurt them. J-just like you told me how you did when y-you started dating dad!”

You saw the man bite his lip and gaze down sheepishly.

Owen was in his mid 20s, if his age was any indication… if he was conceived when his parents first met… then you were going to be here for a very long time.

[sageispunk]

What U Need (18+)

Kinktober prompt: exhibitionism (day 3)

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Teasing Joel underneath a table in a bar sometimes leads to getting ruined on the side of the road.

"Your hands trailed along the zipper of his jeans, fingers teasing his cock over the fabric long enough to make Joel Miller begin to fall apart right in front of you. Right here, in the middle of this bar."

wordcount: 2.5K+

warnings: no Y/N, preestablished relationship, age gap (early 20s + mid-40s), no-outbreak + no sarah, reader’s feeling a bit feral in a bar, joel doesn’t talk much at first, intoxication, teasing, exhibition/public play (no panties in public), over-clothes touching, cursing (obv), degrading language (he calls reader a “dumb fucking slut” at one point), unprotected p-in-v sex (WRAP B4 U TAP), foreplay, angry/horny joel, kinda desperate reader tbh, groping, joel gets a bit rough, the word “daddy” is used several times, dom/sub vibes, praise kink, CREAMPIE, reader has hair that can be gripped/pulled

A/N: follow my sideblog @sageispunklibrary and turn on notifs to be updated when i post!! 🩷

You were on your third– no, fourth cocktail since arriving at the bar with Joel about thirty minutes ago. Your body was so warm that you could feel your dress clinging to your skin from the light moisture. You looked across the table at Joel, who was silently people-watching as he nursed his second glass of whiskey. He looked so sexy tonight, dressed in a black crew neck shirt that was tight enough to show off the outlines of his chest and beefy biceps. He also wore the necklace you recently bought him for his birthday, a simple thin gold chain that you found that same night was nice to look at while he was propped up above you, pounding your pussy into oblivion.

The memory of that night began to play in your mind, making your body heat up even more. Your feet subconsciously moved around under the table as your thighs clenched, one of them bumping into Joel’s, bringing his attention back to you. “Y’okay there, darlin’?”

You looked into his dark chocolate eyes, and responded. “Mhm, just a little warm, is all…”

He could tell there was more but decided to leave it be, to your surprise. You could feel your frustration growing the longer you sat still in your seat. Then his phone vibrated on the table. He picked it up and let out a deep sigh as he began to type out a reply. “Work?” You asked, already knowing the answer. The only other option would’ve been Tommy, and Tommy would’ve just called.

Joel grunted out a ‘yea’ and set the phone back down. The lack of conversation had you feeling needy, not having seen him all day because of work, and even now at 10 o’clock, work was still getting in the way. You watched as he picked up the glass and knocked back the rest of his drink, the way his adam’s apple bobbed as the liquid slid down his throat had your brain feeling fuzzy.

You cleared your throat, deciding to down the rest of the margarita. Joel noticed you were finished too, and slid out of the booth. “Heading over, y’want another?” You nodded, making brief eye contact before your eyes nervously looked elsewhere. He lingered back for half a second, wondering what was making you act so strange, but decided to just head to the counter.

After Joel left, your neediness, horniness, whatever it was–it skyrocketed. Some part of you wanted to get up and drag him into the restroom so he could fuck your brains out in a filthy stall, but you knew he’d probably never go for it. Joel wasn’t a prude, far from it, but public sex wasn’t something the two of you ever got into.

Tonight though, you were feeling frisky and wanted to take some risks. Your booth was tucked away in a darker part of the bar, not many people were near you so you weren’t worried about being caught doing anything lewd. You briefly glanced around to be completely sure no one was watching, before slyly bringing your hands under the table, sliding your damp lace thong down your soft legs. Once you had the small fabric bunched up in your hands, you had to bite your bottom lip to keep a poker face. Excitement rushed through your system–paired with the alcohol, you were beginning to feel invincible.

A few moments later, Joel came back, both of your drinks in hand. As he slid back into the booth, he noticed the flustered look on your face and cocked his eyebrow a little. “Here ya go, baby.” His eyes were trained on your face as he handed it to you, the look in his eye a bit dark, calculating.

It turned you on, having no panties on in public, but even more that Joel didn’t know yet. However, you didn’t think this far ahead and you really wanted him to know as soon as possible, just to see what he might do. “Thank you, Joel..” You made doe eyes at him, taking in the way he shifted in his seat, obviously beginning to feel the effects of the brown liquor. “I missed you today, I feel like I don’t get to see you much because you’ve been working so much,” There was a slight pout in your voice, and it drew him in.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry,” His deep Texan accent paired with the petname sent a shiver down your spine, all the way to your lower belly. He leaned into the table more, face coming in closer and you could see the way his gaze kept moving back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “How can I make it up to ya?”

You mirrored his actions, leaning in on your left elbow with the side of your face in your palm, leaving only a few inches between both your faces. “Mm, I dunno, let me think..” You took this as your opportunity to sneakily find his hands under the table with your right hand, transferring the fabric to his hold. You innocently smiled at the confusion on his face while he pulled back to look at what you gave him.

“Wait don’t–” You chuckled as he almost brought the panties back over the table. Joel narrowed his eyes at you, trying to figure out what the hell you were trying to pull on him. Your eyes focused on his face, enjoying each expression on his face as he realized what he was holding.

He whispered your name, in a shocked but slightly dark tone, watching as you sat back in your seat with a big grin on your face. “What the hell do y’think you’re doin?!” He kept his voice down but the harshness remained. You could feel your seat getting wetter, your slick dripping down your thighs onto the faux leather.

With a shrug and another sip of your drink, you responded. “Just wanted to show you how much I’ve been missing you, is all.”

He was more taken aback than you expected. “By takin’ your panties off in the middle of a bar, like a fuckin’ slut??”

You leaned back in, faux innocence dripping from your lips. “I’m sorry daddy, do you not like it?” As soon as that word left your mouth, Joel’s eyes got darker, almost black. You had him. Your right hand snuck back under the table, finding its way to his crotch, where lo-and-behold sat a warm, throbbing, rock-hard cock in a tight pair of jeans. “If you don’t like it, I can put them back on. Might get caught though…” You slowly moved your hand up and down his bulge, finding pleasure in the way he struggled to keep his eyes open and stern.

“Seems you like it when I act like a slut, based on how hard your cock is for me right now.” You gave a gentle squeeze and smiled when he groaned, eyes fluttering shut and mumbling quietly. “Jesus Christ.”

Your hands trailed along the zipper of his jeans, fingers teasing his cock over the fabric long enough to make Joel Miller begin to fall apart right in front of you. Right here, in the middle of this bar.

“Alright, that’s enough.” He snapped out of it, eyes coming back up to meet yours with nothing but need in them. “Get the fuck up. Now.” You removed your hand, a bit thrown at the harshness of his voice but ultimately turned on and ready to do anything he asked of you. He threw back the rest of his whiskey and pulled out his wallet, as you sipped the remnants of your drink.

Joel threw down a wad of cash on the table before looking at you with a look that said “don’t make me repeat myself.” You stood, careful to keep your way-too-short dress below your ass, a gasp leaving your mouth at the wetness you left behind on the leather. As you took a napkin to wipe it up, Joel quickly stood up and roughly grabbed your arm to pull you in front of him, an effort to hide his huge boner from the other patrons. “Come on, sweetheart.” He gritted in your ear, letting you sort of guide him out the bar and to his truck.

For the past five minutes, Joel had been yelling your ear off. He was mad, mad that you would pull that shit in his favorite bar. Where everyone there knows him and his quiet but handy reputation. He was mad that you would risk fucking that all up ‘just for some dick.’

Like he doesn’t know the hold his dick has on you.

Anyways he shouted at you, driving about 15 over on the same dark road the two of you took to go home everyday. It didn’t bother you, really. You knew there was a chance he’d be pissed off, you were prepared. What was bothering you was the fact that you still hadn’t cum. You thought maybe he’d be mad and you would have the best angry sex of your life, right in the truck outside the bar, but nope.

“Are you even fuckin’ listening t’me?” His voice cut through your thoughts again, and you looked over, not even having to answer because he could read the look on your face. “Of course not, all you care about is your fuckin’ pussy. You probably can’t comprehend a goddamn thing I’m saying right now, can ya? Dumb fucking slut.”

The words he spit out at you had an unreal effect on you. The degradation had you sopping wet, surely soaking his seat. You tried not to squirm too much but you were in desperate need of some friction, you needed something or someone to touch you. Taking a deep sigh, you chose to not respond to him, focusing more on ways to achieve an orgasm without touch. Your thighs trembled slightly as they squeezed together, giving your clit a little extra stimulation. A breathy moan escaped your throat, catching Joel’s attention once again.

He didn’t comment this time, just glanced over at you with a look you couldn’t place. You saw him shake his head from your peripheral, but you paid him no mind, continuing your squeezing and looking out the dark window. Suddenly, the truck was pulling off onto some dark backroad that you’ve never gone on. Joel parked off on the side and cut the car off.

“What–” He cut you off. “Get out.”

You unbuckled, a bit confused but following orders nonetheless. Once you were out of the vehicle, you walked around the back where he stood. “Joel, what are we–” He grabbed you by your hair, pulling your face close to his, so that you could see him better.

“Since you can’t control yourself, we’re just gonna have to do this here.” His lips were so close to yours, you wanted so badly to move closer to feel them on your own, but his grip on you was tight. He tilted your head back with the fist in your hair, exposing your throat to him, other hand placed firmly on your jaw. When you felt his hot, wet tongue lick a stripe along your neck, you thought you would combust.

“Joooeellll…” You cried out, almost overstimulated by the way he was licking and sucking on your favorite spots. He groaned into your skin, the sound sending a pang to your lower stomach. God, he needs you as much as you need him.

You brought one hand down to his cock–still hard as a rock in his jeans–groping and squeezing the bulge, pulling more deep groans out of him. He took a break from his conquest on your neck and chest, turning you around to face the tailgate of his truck. “Fuck, darlin’...you’ve been wanting this all night, huh?”

You shook your head. “All day, daddy.”

“Say it again.” He ground into your ass with his cock, and you pushed back, wishing he would just take them off.

“I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day, daddy. I want your cock so bad, I need it in me please, just fuck me please…” You rambled, desperately needing him to ruin you.

You heard his zipper open, then the shuffle of his jeans down his legs, and you felt as though you’d been lost in the desert for weeks and finally, you’ve come across a cold spring of water. “One more time for me, baby.”

“Please fuck me daddy.” You cried out, not caring if anyone could hear you, even though it was unlikely in this rural area. As soon as the last word left your mouth, Joel pushed you forward slightly, causing your dress to finally roll up to your waist, and slid right inside of you, the both of you groaning in unison. He pulled back out slowly, drawing a long wail of his name out of your throat, before he quickly thrusted back inside of your warmth. His long, thick cock stretched you out and filled you up to the brim, reaching your favorite spot with each thrust. “Fuck, baby, goddamn this pussy is so fucking wet f’me…” Joel groaned praise into your ear, one hand still in your hair and the other now gripping your hip.

You used the little energy you had left to meet his rhythm, throwing your ass back to him, occasionally receiving a hard slap or two. “Joellll, baby, fuck!” Those three words made up your only vocabulary for a couple minutes, until he got you right there, at the edge.

“I’m so close, daddy.”

“I know baby, I can feel it, let go f’me okay. Cum for me sweetheart, you got it.” The degradation from only a few moments ago paired with the sweet things he was now panting in your ear had you about to explode. One of your hands gripped onto the tailgate and the other went straight to your clit, rubbing as fast as you could.

All you could hear was your own breathy moans, paired with Joel’s deep groans and the sloppy, gushing, wet unity of your two bodies.

Your entire body tightened up as you tipped over the edge, finally getting that release that you’ve needed all day. You screamed out in total bliss, your eyesight leaving you for a few moments. Right behind you, Joel let out a longggg groan, crying out to you. “Fuck, baby I’m cumming.”

“Cum for me, daddy, fuckkkk..” You felt him pulsing inside you, filling you up until it was leaking out around his cock. His hips slowed and stuttered, eventually slowing way down, his upper body resting on your back. “Jesus Christ,” Joel panted, leaving a couple kisses on your back.

You chuckled, all of a sudden feeling very, very tired and blissed out. Joel left one last kiss on the back of your neck before slowly pulling out, trying not to overstimulate you, with his cum spilling right after. “Oh, fuck,” you shivered.

You turned around and threw your arms over his shoulders as he pulled his jeans back up, sloppily pulling him in for a kiss, needing to feel his soft lips on yours. He obliged you for a few moments, before pulling back and grabbing something out of his back pocket.

Your panties.

“C’mon baby, let’s put these back on and head home.”

AAAAAAH finally published, i know it's past midnight now its a little late (not if we count the west coast tho hehe). but my second post (and my first joel fic)!! so excited to share this with you guys, i rlly hope u enjoy it!! please like and reblog (and leave plenty of comments) if u do. feel free to send requests/suggestions!! <333

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

[palioom]

santa claus is comin' (to town)

summary: the children of Jackson aren't the only ones excited about Santa visiting.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; established relationship; santa kink; unprotected p in v; creampie, lap sex

a/n: banners by @/saradika-graphics

follow @palioomfics & turn on notifs for future updates

Christmas in Jackson was a cheerful time. Allowing its residents some rest and peace in between the daily reminders of survival in a world overgrown by fungus.

There was a tree – a beautiful, tall fir – which they had felled in the surrounding woods and placed in the small town square, lit up with bright, colourful lights and hundreds of handmade decorations from the residents. Mostly made by children, as they learned to work with wood, just small figures like hearts and stars.

The houses and shops were decorated with just as much colour, lighting up everything around them.

And, Jackson even had its very own Santa.

Clad in all red, slightly yellowed fur trims on the sleeves of the shirt, the brim of the hat and on the hems of the pants. A nice, gray beard, and even a hint of Santa’s iconic, large belly.

Joel hadn’t really wanted to do it at first, eyeing the costume they had found on one of their runs with slight concern before he eventually relented. But only after Tommy had nagged at him a bit and Joel’s girl had sweet talked him into it.

The kids went wild for him, screaming and laughing when he walked down the streets, waving at them and laughing back. That really was when he had started to like it, seeing their eyes shine, prodding at the heavy sack slung over his shoulder – as well as his tummy.

To be honest, he had missed this a little, and it reminded him of how much Sarah loved to go down to the mall to tell Santa her Christmas wishes. Back when she was younger. He could still see her perched on Santa’s knee, the widest smile on her face as someone took their photo.

Now, it was him who had the kids whispering their wishes into his ear, just to squeal in delight when he pulled the requested toy or book from the brown sack next to him. A genuine smile on his face when one kid hopped off so the next could hop on.

It made her happy, too. Seeing the old man happy and laughing like this after he had grumbled about not really wanting to do it. 

And to be honest, he looked good like this. It had been a fight to keep her hands off of him when he first tried on the costume. The longer beard he had grown out just for this suited him well, too, her mind wandering to how it would feel on the inside of her thighs. 

And that belly.

She had teased him about it, asked if he had grown it just for this as well, something he answered with a grumpy look, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.

But she loved it, loved him a little bigger and so soft and warm.

All in all, Joel was just unbelievably hot. Even when dressed as Santa.

Especially when dressed as Santa.

So when she had to leave the event early to get dinner going while he stayed behind, she really couldn’t stop thinking about him. About him and that stupid but hot costume, wanting to sit on his lap and having him give her a very special gift as well.

One that only he could give her.

So when he finally came home over an hour later, she quickly made her way out of the kitchen and to the front door, catching him as he wanted to take off his hat. 

“Leave it on.” She mumbled against his lips as her arms wrapped around his neck. His beard scratched against her skin and she could feel his arms encircle her waist. “There’s someone else who wants to sit on Santa’s lap.”

The low hum he let out quickly turned into a groan, his broad hands squeezing at her sides and hungrily kissing her back. He still found her love for this costume ridiculous, but Joel couldn’t deny that this whole thing was really hot.

“Wanna lay over Santa’s knee instead?” Joel asked, pushing her back into the living room, towards his favourite armchair.

She laughed, shaking her head when she parted from him for a moment.

“Mhmmm, no. I want to tell Santa my wish, too.”

His eyebrows shot up, a wide grin on his face that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. Now that certainly was something.

Sitting down on the chair, he pulled her down onto his leg by her waist, spreading his legs wide. His cock was already pressing uncomfortably against the fabric of these stupid pants, excited about what she wanted to do.

Right back in his role, his gloved hands dipping beneath the hem of her turtleneck and grabbing her waist. All while she looked at him as innocently as she could, biting her bottom lip.

“Now, tell Santa,” Joel said, his voice dropping a few octaves, “have you been a good girl this year?”

She giggled, nodding her head. Oh, this was already better than what she could have imagined.

“Of course, Santa.” Her voice was sugary sweet when she replied. “I’m always a good girl.”

Joel chuckled, his grip tightening on her waist. His head flooded with images of her being anything but a good girl.

How dare she lie to Santa himself?

“Well, somebody told me that that’s a lie, angel.” He replied, his hands skirting higher over her sides, feeling the warmth of her through the gloves. “You’ve been a naughty girl, and naughty girls don’t get presents from Santa.”

Blood was already rushing in her ears, her eyes dropping down to the tent in his pants. She rubbed her thighs together, needing any kind of friction on her throbbing clit. 

One of Joel’s large hands came out from beneath her top and smoothed over her thigh instead, dipping towards the inside before getting dangerously close to where she needed him the most. Hearing her breath hitch at the touch.

“But Santa, please.” She whined, putting on her best puppy eyes in an attempt to sway and convince him that she indee did deserve a present.

“Naughty girls get a very special something from Santa instead.” He whispered, his fingers finally pressing against her clothed pussy, making her moan. “‘Specially ones as naughty as you have been.”

Just rubbing back and forth, unable to feel if he found her clit through the thick gloves, but he was quite sure that he did with how she reacted to it. 

“Do you want to know what that is?” He asked, growing impatient with how she whined and ground back into his fingers.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. She desperately needed to know and she hoped they both were on the same page here.

“Yes, Santa. Please.” 

A small growl escaped Joel when he made her stand up, with her back to him, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of the sweatpants she wore before pulling them down. Exposing her ass clad in a lacy thong to him.

When he pulled her back into his lap, his dick ground against her ass, her legs spreading over his own. Joel held her by the hips, his own rutting up into her and making him moan, too.

There was no way he could handle this for long, lifting his hips to shimmy down his pants so his cock was free, hard and rubbing through the wetness that seeped through her underwear. Sliding it back and forth, hearing her soft moans whenever he nudged against her clit through the lace.

“You like what Santa got you?”

She hummed with a frenzied nod, her body so hot compared to the icy coldness outside. Her eyes were glued to his cock, watching the head become shinier with every rock of his hips - fat and angry and just waiting to be swallowed up by her greedy pussy.

“I love it, Santa, oh-” Biting her lip, she watched Joel take off his dark gloves, revealing his tanned, broad hands, the veins on the backs of them protruding. They moved to her panties, his fingers hooking into the lace and pulling them to the side.

Allowing his cock to slide against her bare pussy without any barriers.

This was an even better image, the head vanishing and coming back into view, nudging against her clit and making her squirm in his lap.

“All special, only for the naughtiest girls.” Joel chuckled, his breath hitching in his throat. She felt so nice and wet and he wasn’t even inside of that dripping pussy yet. He could come just like this, sliding through her folds, the image of it so lewd. 

But the way she stared at it was almost lewder – wide, dark eyes, looking like she was about to jump off his lap and drop to her knees instead. He swore he could see a trickle of drool on one corner of those pretty lips, glistening in the light.

She couldn’t wait to have it inside of her, to feel the thick length of him spread her pussy open. As much as she liked the view of him like this, she reached for his cock with one hand, raising her hips as much as she could. Prodding against her entrance but not pushing in, she just felt the thick head resting there.

Joel’s chuckle vibrated against her back before she could hear it fall from his mouth, almost sounding like Santa himself – causing a new gush of wetness to release on him.

Fucking Santa on his lap hadn’t been something she thought to turn her on.

“You really are a naughty girl.” He said, close to her ear and shifting his hips. Just lightly feeding her the swollen tip, relishing in the sweet mewls she let out. “Looks like Santa has to punish you, hm?”

She barely listened, so focused on the feeling of him splitting her open as she slowly sank down on his hard cock. Feeling inch by inch enter her, until she was back in his lap again, one of his broad hands holding her hip while the other went to find her nipple beneath her shirt.

“So big, so big, fuck-” Her voice was small, her eyes still focused on where his cock was vanishing inside of her. Feeling impatient as he just kept her there and whining when he pinched her nipple. “Santa, please.”

His hips rocked up into her at the name. It was lewd, naughty, to have her call him Santa. But Joel couldn’t deny that it was fucking hot, too.

“You like Santa’s very special gift for naughty girls?” He asked, thrusting up into her again, his hand on her hip aiding her as she carefully began to move in his lap. Still teasing her nipple, pinching and twisting the little nub in between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Mhmm, yes, I love Santa’s gift.” She moaned, feeling the unbearable need to strip out of her clothes entirely, feeling the heat of his body against hers while her veins were on fire. “‘M gonna be a naughty girl every year, Santa.”

Joel chuckled, the sound strangled by the moan that creeped up his throat when her pussy gripped him tight. Obviously she was enjoying this whole game as much as he did, if not more.

Slowly he rocked up into her faster, watching her face contort in pleasure. But she never took her eyes off of his cock, watching her juices run down the length, frothing with each thrust.

“You already are the naughtiest.” Joel rasped, feeling his balls twitch as her pussy contracted around his cock again. Her moans and mewls became higher in pitch and she seemed to have trouble keeping up the rhythm she had set to match his. “Bouncing on Santa’s lap, creamin’ all over him.”

He accentuated his words with another pinch of her nipple, her back arching deliciously into his touch.

But soon he took away his hand from her breasts to rest on her other hip, helping to lift and slam her down onto his cock over and over as her movements became more erratic.

“Santa has even more gifts for you.” He teased, dancing dangerously close on the edge of his orgasm.

“Yes, yes yes.” She breathed out, whining. The slap of skin on skin echoed through the room, only spurring her on more as she watched him bury himself inside of her aching pussy again and again. “Please, Santa- Give it to me, give it all to me!”

Joel chuckled, his mouth attaching to the skin below her ear and biting down. His hands pushed her down hard just as his hips rocked up – pushing her over the edge she had been dancing on as well. 

“Santa- Fuck!”

She gripped him like a vice, her hands finding his as her orgasm seared through her and Joel fucked her through it, his voice becoming darker.

“Like that, like that-” He mumbled, needing just a few more thrusts with how madly she was still pulsing around him. “Fucking naughty girl, strangling Santa’s cock- Oh, shit-”

Joel kept thrusting up as he spilled himself inside of her greedy pussy, filling her up as she writhed in his grip, her hips still erratic on top of him.

He couldn’t stop his cock from slipping out, a noise of protest leaving her which was quickly replaced with a moan as she watched the last few ropes of cum splash over her mound and the bottom of her shirt, the white in stark contrast to the dark fabric.

The view of his still swollen head gliding through her cum-covered pussy sent shivers through her as she came down from her high, hearing Joel’s heavy pants in her ear.

“Ain’t that better than coals in your stocking, darlin’?” He asked in between breaths, chuckling slightly. Watching the mess in between her legs, he couldn’t stop the small groan that creeped up his throat. “Gonna behave for next year?”

She giggled, finally tearing her gaze away from where his cock still rested in between her pussy lips to look at him instead. 

“Mhm, I don’t know.” She said, a grin spreading on her face. This whole thing was exactly what she’d needed, and she would fight for him to keep that stupid costume. And for him to put it on again. “Is my present gonna be better than this?”

His warm hands smoothed over her thighs, the fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt as he moved up. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and he knew this wouldn’t be the only time this happened. 

“We’ll see.” Joel said before leaning in and kissing her, hearing the soft hum vibrating in her chest. “But before next year… Maybe I have just a little something left in my sack for you.”

A laugh broke out of her, feeling herself clench around nothing as she thought of what else his sack contained for her. 

And she would enjoy every second of it.

[covetyou]

just a taste

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: cuck!Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: daddy kink, cuckolding, creampie, cum eating, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, male masturbation, one single pussy slap, rimming if you squint, pet names (baby, sweetheart), dd/lg vibes, established relationship, mention of original male character. word count: 2.5k summary: Joel helps you clean up a mess.

A/N: This has taken me so long to write beyond the dialogue because it's all been so distracting that I've had to stop myself and go have breaks, but then I come back and write more horny shit for parts I didn't even intend to write. cuck!Joel is something else.

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You're still floating on cloud nine when the bed dips beside you. A kiss is placed to your cheek, the corner of your mouth. You lick your lips - you can still taste him on your tongue.

"Wake up, baby. Daddy's home."

You sigh and stretch, arching your body into a bow as you pull yourself from your doze, the crumpled sheet falling to your waist as you turn to greet Joel. His hair is mussed from running his fingers through it all day, and his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you.

"Hey, baby," he whispers, tugging the sheet further off your body. "Just look at my pretty girl."

"Hi Daddy. I missed you," you breathe, softly kissing him, that lingering taste still on your tongue.

A rough hand smooths your hair back from your face before cascading down your shoulder, over the softness of your breast and down between your legs to cup your damp pussy through your panties.

He traces soft kisses over your shoulder, your collarbone. "You have a good day?" The ghost of his words flutters over your skin, pebbling your nipples before he takes one into his mouth, sucking lightly as you melt into his touch.

You smile and nod lazily at him. You had the best day. "Mhm."

He releases from you with a pop. "You did?" He pushes softly against your mound, cupping you more firmly before rubbing his fingers from side to side across the crotch of your panties.

You wiggle your hips away from him, whining in discomfort.

"What is it? What's wrong," he says, faux concern pulling at his brows.

"My panties are all messy, Daddy," you pout, biting your bottom lip as you look at him through your lashes.

"And why's that, sweetheart?"

He keeps rubbing, his hand moving back and forth now across the damp fabric, smearing any mess into your skin with each movement and forcing you to stifle a moan.

"I don't know."

"Hm, I think we both know why your panties are messy, baby."

He raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for your confession. You bite it back and try to look away, his dark eyes boring holes into your skull, seeing right through you. He taps a finger to your cheek with his other hand, his usual sign for you to look at him. You obey. Of course you do, you always do.

"Did you have a friend over to play today?"

"No," you pout again.

slap

His broad hand claps dully against your clothed pussy, all noise and no sting. Still, it makes you gasp as the buzz shoots through your cunt straight to your sleep addled brain.

"Don't lie to me baby."

"Andrew came over to play."

"And did you play down here?" He tickles his fingers lightly over your entrance through your panties, making you squirm.

"No." This time you can't keep back the smile that pulls across your face as you say it. This was your, and you suspected his, favorite game.

He rolls his eyes at you, dragging his tongue across his teeth. He knew when you were lying and, most of all, he knew when you wanted him to know you were lying.

"Let's have a look then shall we."

He peels your sticky panties from your slick pussy, pulling them down to your knees. He looks at your glistening cunt, then to you. He's clearly unimpressed. "Think I'm gonna need a better look."

Rough hands smooth down your soft thighs, meeting at their apex and digging his fingers lightly into your flesh. Large thumbs slide up the side of your pussy and pull you open, exposing you to his gaze. The action makes you clench, pushing a trickle of milky white out from your hole and down the valley of your ass, staining Joel's bed below.

"Baby," he says, a warning tone in his voice. "I think you've been lying to me."

He traces another trickle with his finger, catching it before it can drop down to his sheets. He inspects it, before putting it in his mouth to taste. He doesn't even bother to hide his moan as he suckles on his own finger.

"I think we both know why your pussy is messy, baby. You and Andrew played with each other down here, didn't you?" He slides one thick finger all the way into you with ease and you gasp.

"Yes, Daddy."

"I'm not mad at you, baby," he says as he begins to pump his digit in and out of you, coating his finger in the clear slick if your pussy and the creamy white of your playmates spend. "I just don't like you lying to me."

His finger hooks up into you, making you moan and curl your toes, back arching from the bed.

"You have fun with Andrew?" he mutters, smiling softly, a fondness in his eyes kept only for you as he strokes your thighs.

"Mhm."

"He make you come?"

You giggle at the memory of the many times Andrew had made you come that day. "Yes Daddy."

He shakes his head at you, trying, and failing, to hide a grin by biting the inside of his cheek. This was definitely his favorite game.

"He came too, huh? Right in here?" He pushes his finger into you as deep as he can, curling it upward to hit a spot that makes you groan.

He pulls his finger out without warning, watching your hole flutter in his absence, cum coating his finger and dripping out of you once again.

"I know. There's so much in here baby, he made a real mess o' you. Lemme get this pussy cleaned up." For anyone else, this might have meant grabbing a wet wash cloth or hopping in the shower. But not for Joel. Instead, he slides his finger into his mouth, sucking it clean, and pulls your ruined panties off the rest of the way, using both hands to push your thighs wide as he leans down to lick a thick stripe through your swollen folds.

You squirm, jerking your hips from his grip. "Mnnngh, it's sensitive," you whine.

"Do you want Daddy to stop?" he says, nipping and licking at your inner thighs. Andrew's cum had spilled from you and smeared on them earlier, drying and making them sticky before you'd slipped your panties back on to keep in the rest. Joel doesn't mind, he never does, and he continues to nibble at your skin, tasting the combined release of you and another man.

You look down at him and pout. Of course you didn't want him to stop, his tongue on your pussy was the best feeling in the world, even when it made you twitch.

"Didn't think so, baby. You always want your Daddy, don't you?"

"Always, Daddy," you sigh, practically melt into the bed at his words. Even when you were being filled by someone else, you could never stop thinking about Joel - how much he would love to be there, watching you, listening to your moans, tasting you.

"I'll be gentle," he croons, stroking your thighs with his rough finger tips. "She's so sensitive, huh?"

He keeps his word, going back to lapping at you softly, small licks all over your pussy, suckling at the skin, cleaning you of the evidence of your earlier activities. He presses soft kisses back to your clit, before holding you open, pulling back your hood and lapping directly at your over sensitive nub.

"Keep still for Daddy."

It is impossible to keep still.

"Oh, fu-Daddy," you moan, reaching down to grab at his shaggy mess of hair between your legs. He looks blissful, his eyes almost closed as his mouth engulfs your clit. His tongue laps at it in broad strokes, desperate to bring you to orgasm and force more cum from your tender hole.

You were so oversensitive, so tender, that when he brings a finger back to circle the outer rim of your pussy, you can already feel your release barrelling into you. You whine, high pitched as you come, a feeble little thing in the grand scheme of things, hips gyrating uncontrollably into his face as you tug on his hair.

"Ohhhh."

Joel wastes no time unlatching from your clit and plunging his tongue into your twitching hole. He swallows heavily after each deep lick, swallowing down Andrew's cum as some of the remnants pulse out of you. His tongue teases down beyond your hole, to the crevasse of your ass, flicking over your asshole briefly to collect any drops from earlier as he teases a finger back into your cunt, dragging gently at your walls to pull more cum from you before sucking it off of his finger. He repeats the action, groaning with each taste of another mans cum off of himself.

"Open up," he says, sticking his finger deep in you and dragging it around your walls to collect as much of your slick as he can. You do as he says, letting your jaw fall open as you stick out your tongue, eager to add to the taste still held in your mouth. "Good girl. If you make a mess you gotta help clean it up."

You watch dumbly as he pulls the finger from your dripping cunt and sits up to reach and slide it between your lips. You suckle on the digit, swirling your tongue around it to taste the salty tang of your used pussy. When he removes his finger his mouth quickly finds yours, tongue lapping at your own. You can taste the same salty sweet flavor on his lips, and you reach up to hold him, pulling him into you. You feel the painfully hard bulge in his jeans grind against your thigh.

"Such a good girl," he says into your mouth, biting at your bottom lip before entwining his tongue with yours. "He got your mouth all messy too, huh?" he says, and you nod in response, nose dragging up and down the side of his nose with the movement. "I can taste it."

He's shifting back from you then, pressing your body delicately, but firmly, away from himself. You try to protest as he pushes you down into the soft embrace of his bed, but he's soon slipping back down your body and between your legs, sliding two thick fingers through your folds and into your cunt. He slips them into you with ease, pumping slow and deep as he mouths all over your tender flesh, sucking your labia into his mouth and swirling his tongue over your clit with well practiced movements.

You convulse and twitch, bearing down on his fingers as pressure builds in you once more. You clench your muscles, wanting to grip his fingers and draw him into you, but the pulsing of your cunt does nothing but push more of your playmates creamy spend from your hole and into Joel's eager mouth. He keeps slurping at you, tongue plunging into your hole with his fingers to drink down every last drop that leaks out of you.

"Oh, fuck."

He yanks his jeans down, his thick cock painfully hard from being trapped in his jeans for so long. He's been thinking about this all day, sporting a semi for most of the afternoon as he dreamed of devouring another man's cum out of your pussy. He's so fucking close he can't help himself, and he grabs his cock as soon as it's free. He jerks himself frantically as he sloppily eats your pussy, hips rutting into his own fist and tongue desperately seeking out the creamy taste of your hole as it twitches.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he mumbles into your cunt, squeezing his eyes closed, staving off his orgasm as long as he can. You feel his hot breath fan across your exposed pussy as he pants, groaning as he tastes you and moves his fist harder and harder, tighter and tighter up and down his length. You wish it was closer, you wish you could taste him, have his cum flood your mouth and erase the taste of anyone else from your tongue. You could ask for it, beg him, but his face buried in your your sensitive swollen folds is so much that the oversensitivity makes words impossible. All you can do is whine and moan, pushing your hips into his face, grinding into him as you babble the only word your brain can muster.

"Daddy, d-daddy, daaa- fu- daddy!"

You come again, legs clamping hard around his head, pulling him into you tighter when all you want to do is push him away, as sensitive as you are. He's surrounded by you, he probably can't breath, but his tongue doesn't relent and neither does his fist. You try to tug him off of you, hands pulling on his hair as you sob, but it does nothing but spur him on, nose pushing hard into you as he breathes deep one last time before his jaw goes slack and he releases a deep groan directly into your pussy, his cock throbbing in his hand. He comes long and hard, spurts of thick white cum coating his fist and the bed sheets as he comes all over himself and the bedsheets.

You go limp, thighs falling open and hand slipping from his hair, flopping uselessly down between your own legs as you gaze off into space, small whimpers still falling from your lips.

He rests his forehead on your mound, breathing deeply as he comes down from his own high. He places one last gentle kiss to your clit before placing his broad hand over you, rubbing gently, possessively.

"S'all clean now," he mumbles into you and you moan in agreement, even if you feel like more of a mess than when he started.

Joel stretches back, rolling from between your thighs to lay on his back, pulling you toward him as he goes. You curl into him, not bothering to avoid mess of his cum splattered on the sheets. The bed always needed changing after a playdate with Andrew anyway, a little more mess wouldn't hurt.

You card your fingers through his hair as his breath finally starts to steady. He takes a deep breath and shifts, his cock hanging limply against his belly now. This was your favorite thing in the world - curled up in a messy bed with Joel, both of you spent and satisfied.

"Saw Andrew as he was leaving. Told me you came six times today, baby, a new record," he finally says, looking up at you and pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

You laugh, smiling as your mouth finds his. "I lost count after three."

"Mm," he sighs as you place gentle pecks all over his lips. "You'll have to thank him extra hard next time."

"I will, Daddy. Then I'll tell you all about it."

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[flightlessangelwings]

Drowning in You

Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Word count-2.5k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), exes to lovers, alcohol, pining, feelings, f receiving oral (all hail Frankie the pussy eating king!), overstim, sexytimes in a car, reader is able bodied but otherwise not described other than body parts, no use of y/n

Prompts- Both/all parties get caught in the rain. / "Kiss me in the rain. Please?"

Notes- Written for @undercoverpena April Showers Challenge! Getting this in on literally the last day of the month too lol! But I had fun with this one so I hope y'all enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

Moodboard made by me

~

You never expected to see him here. Especially after all these years. You had broken up with Frankie so long ago… or had he broken up with you? Honestly it had been so long that you couldn’t even remember. Were you upset about one of his deployments? Was he upset that you worked too much? Was it something so inconsequential that you drew a blank? At this point, it didn’t even matter anymore.

As you stared at Francisco Morales- Frankie- from across the bar, all your old emotions bubbled up to the surface. He had more lines on his face than the last time you saw him, but it only made him more handsome. He still wore that same ratted baseball cap, but his hair looked a little longer as brown wavy locks poked out from under it. And his smile… even from far away you saw how his smile lit up his face. It made your heart flutter in your chest like you were a lovestruck school girl all over again. 

But time felt like it stopped when you and Frankie locked eyes from opposite sides of the room. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the temperature rise around you. All movement that surrounded you felt like it was in slow motion as you and Frankie just stared at each other, both as dumbfounded and surprised as the other. 

You hadn’t changed a bit. No, you were even more beautiful than the last time Frankie saw you. And the way your lips parted as you wore a stunned look across your face only brought up all the feelings he fought so hard to bury. The truth was not a day went by that Frankie didn’t think of you. So many times he picked up the phone to dial your number only to hang up before he could hit the call button. He couldn’t even remember why the two of you broke up, but he knew that letting you go was the biggest mistake of his life.

And he wasn’t about to let that happen again.

“Hi,” Frankie tried to sound smooth as he approached you, “You look…” he cleared his throat as he messed with his hat, “You look… Wow,” he breathed as a crooked smile lit up his face.

“Wow yourself,” you shimmied your shoulders subtly as chills ran up your spine from hearing his voice again. You fiddled with your fingers for a moment as nerves overtook you, “It’s good to see you, Frankie,” you said, “How have you been?”

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, “You?”

“Same old,” you sounded playfully dismissive, as if neither of you cared about the past. All that mattered was the present, and maybe the future. “How are the guys?” you asked.

“Nothing’s changed.” It was a lie; so much had changed since the last time Frankie spoke to you. But now wasn’t the time for that. 

“That’s good,” you grinned. Shifting your weight from side to side, you felt like there was so much in the air between you two that needed to be let out. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to voice any of it. The tension was palpable, and even the strangers in the room could notice.

There was so much Frankie wanted to say, and yet none of it felt relevant. What could he possibly say to you after all these years? His chest felt tight and he felt like his throat was dry as he tried to swallow. And he was sure it got warmer in here since he came over to talk to you.

Frankie finally settled on, “Can I get you a drink?” 

Your eyes lit up and it made his heart pound in his chest, “Yes,” you breathed.

It was as if no time passed at all as you and Frankie shared drink after drink together. In an instant, you remembered what made you fall in love with him, and Frankie felt the same way about you. Both of you lost yourselves in each other as you talked and caught each other up on where you were in your lives.

“Hey, I bet I could still kick your ass at pool,” you shimmied your shoulders playfully as you motioned over to the empty pool table.

Frankie took a big swig of his drink and smiled widely, “You’re on!”

Heat built up between your bodies as you took turns shooting the balls into the net on the table. Every time Frankie came close to you, you felt your skin warm and tingle. And especially when he leaned so close against you that you thought he was going to kiss you. For a brief moment, you almost gave in as you unconsciously leaned in and glanced down at his lips as he teased you for missing a shot.

But, before you could make a move… 

“Alright love birds, last call,” the bartender interrupted you and Frankie, “It’s closing time.”

“Oh shit,” you laughed as you took a step back, “I didn’t even realize it got so late!”

“Me either,” Frankie’s eyes never left your figure as you put the pool sticks away. He flagged down the bartender and paid for both of your tabs before he returned to you, “Can I walk you to your car?”

“I actually didn’t drive here,” you admitted sheepishly, suddenly embarrassed about being out so late on your own. But you weren’t on your own, were you? You almost forgot about the friends you came here with, and you were sure they all left hours ago as you were catching up with your ex. 

“Can I give you a ride home then?” he asked, hopeful.

You smiled at him, “Yeah.”

It was dark as you and Frankie walked through the parking lot of the bar. Most of the cars were gone, and those that remained were about to drive away. Only Frankie’s truck parked on the far end of the lot was left.

“Still got that shitty old truck, huh?” you jested.

“Hey, this piece of shit has done me good,” Frankie laughed, “She may be getting up in years but she’s still got some life left in her.”

All you could do was grin widely. Yep, he was the same old Frankie that you fell in love with all those years ago. The same Frankie that you missed every day. The same Frankie that you wished you could get back and be the way things used to be…

“Well,” Frankie groaned as you both reached the passenger side, “Your ride waites,” he made a scene about hamming it up for you, making you burst into laughter.

“I’ve missed you, Frankie.” The confession slipped out before you could stop it.

He froze. 

Under the low light of the streetlamps, you looked stunning. Even in the darkness, Frankie could see the way your eyes shone. The tone shifted as he reached out and cupped the side of your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“I missed you too, baby,” he murmured softly.

Your lips parted to let out a deep breath as you found yourself drawn closer and closer to his face. You glanced down at his lips for a moment, remembering the way they were always so soft against yours. But, just as you felt his breath on your skin, it suddenly started to pour.

“Shit!” Frankie hissed as you both found yourself soaking wet in the downpour that came from nowhere, “Quick, get in!”

“Wait,” you grabbed his shirt, “Kiss me!”

“What?!”

“Kiss me. Right here, in the rain,” you sounded more sure of yourself this time, “Please?”

Frankie exhaled sharply as he hovered his lips over yours, “I can’t say no to that.”

With that, Frankie crashed his lips against yours in a deep and desperate kiss. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, feeling your soaked body against his. Swallowing the moan you let out, Frankie let out a groan of his own as he tasted you for the first time in years. And it was way better than he remembered. Instantly, Frankie was addicted to you again.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured against your lips as he broke away briefly only to kiss you again.

“Frankie…”

“Baby,” he cut you off, “I gotta tell you… Now that I’ve had a taste, I fucking need more…”

“What’s stopping you then?” you smirked as your tone dropped, your tone obvious.

“Now? Fucking nothing,” he smirked against your face as he grabbed you as yanked you towards the backseat. Fumbling with the door, Frankie quickly ushered you inside before climbing in on top of you and shutting the door behind him. Laughter erupted from both of you as you clumsily tried to situate yourself in the cramped backseat of Frankie’s truck. 

“Feels just like old times,” you mumbled in between frantic kisses as you felt yourself stripped of your soaking wet clothes.

Frankie let out a short laugh, “Like when we were younger and I’d fuck you in my back of my old beat up piece of shit car for hours,” he groaned as he yanked your bottoms off of you, “Fuck…” he breathed in awe.

All you could do was moan as you felt the heat of Frankie’s gaze warm you from the inside. Suddenly, the cold rain felt like a steamy mist on your skin as he looked at your pure pure need and adoration. 

“Shit baby,” Frankie purred before he dove into you in a flash.

You threw your head back and screamed as his lips made contact with your pussy, immediately sending you into a state of ecstasy. Pleasure overwhelmed you as Frankie’s tongue worked your fold with expert precision that you knew and loved from him. Moans filled the truck as your hands landed in his hair, pushing the cap off his head so you could bury your fingers in his tick locks.

“Fuck… Frankie…” you moaned as your eyes rolled back into your head. 

The rain continued to pound on the roof of Frankie’s tuck as he devoured you like a man starved. And perhaps that’s what Frankie was. Ever since the day you left, he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms again, to taste you again. And now that he had his wish, he was not going to let you go.

Frankie’s emotions overwhelmed him as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer against his face. He felt no need for air as he licked and slurped greedily at your pussy, savoring your taste and every sound you made. With every flick of his tongue, Frankie felt his cock stiffen more. But he ignored it. All he cared about was drawing in your pussy, drowning in giving you the pleasure you both craved after so long apart. 

“Oh baby… Fuck…” you cried out as tears filled your eyes.

As much as he wanted to coo soothing words, Frankie found that he couldn’t pull himself away from you. Licking down your folds, he darted his tongue in and out of your entrance a few times before he ran back up and sucked hard at your clit. The action pulled a cry from you that drowned out the pouring rain and you tugged at his hair harder.

That’s it baby, Frankie thought as he groaned into your body.

Your hips bucked against Frankie’s face on their own. Up and down, up and down, you rocked your hips against his face, feeling the combination of his tongue and his nose against your folds that created a pleasure unlike anything you ever felt before. You cried out in ecstasy as you felt a tingle emanate from your core.

“Fuck… Frankie… I’m…” you moaned as you felt your climax quickly approach.

Frankie didn’t let up. Instead, he grabbed you even tighter and picked up his pace with his tongue. Flicking your clit over and over again, he pushed harder, knowing exactly which spots drove you wild. Your moans and cries were music to his ears, highlighted by the sound of the rain that continued outside, surrounding you in your little pocket of bliss. 

“Fran…” you couldn’t even get his entire name out before your orgasm crashed into you like a wave hitting the beach. Your legs trembled on either side of his head as you threw your head back and screamed loudly. You felt like you were floating, with only Frankie’s tongue and hands to keep you grounded.

Even as your peak hit, Frankie still didn’t stop. He was too consumed with you to even think of breaking away. Instead, he kept going. Even as you whimpered from becoming overstimulated, he kept going. Frankie sucked and slurped at your cunt like he was eating a melting ice cream. And to him, you were just as sweet, if not sweeter.

Tears fell down your cheeks as your mind went blank. Even the uncomfortable cushion of his backseat didn’t bother you as you let out a desperate whine. In the break between your screams, you heard the rain hit the roof of the truck… as well as the obscene slurping of Frankie in between your legs. Picking your head up, you saw the outline of him in the dim light, his head bobbing up and down as he refused to let you go.

“Oh fuck…” you moaned as another climax hit you out of nowhere. Your body went limp as you cried out in bliss once more, feeling the overwhelming pleasure that Frankie’s tongue brought you. “Fuck!” you screamed as you yanked on his hair, letting him know you finally had enough.

With one final loud pop, Frankie finally broke away from your body. His eyes were glazed over and his chin glistened from your juices. He stared at you in silence, the only sound being the rain outside as you both caught your breaths. The windows were so fogged up that no one could see inside even if there was anyone out to peer in, and Frankie could barely see out.

“You alright, baby?” Frankie asked, breaking the silence. 

You blinked your eyes open and your heart fluttered in your chest from the way he looked at you, “Never fucking better,” you grinned.

Frankie leaned over, pushing himself forward to cover your body and take your lips in a slow yet still heated kiss, “Me too,” he murmured against your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him in closer, “I missed you so much, Frankie,” your voice was like a plea.

He cupped your face, “I missed you too, baby,” he replied, his tone soft. Frankie’s thumb brushed a tear off your cheek before he spoke again, “Hey,” he started with a hint of a smirk in his voice, “How about we go back to my place and make up for lost time?”

You grinned widely, “What are we waiting for?” you kissed him again, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. 

“Absolutely nothing,” he replied with a grin of his own and a bright future ahead for both of you despite the downpour outside. 

[urhoneycombwitch]

breathe in the air

eddie x reader x steve. part i

foreword: this is part one/set up for a fic I’ve been chewin’ on. cw is for both parts and will get updated- no actual smut in this first one but please heed the tags anyway. +18 mdni as always. (@somnambulic-thing you inspired me to write from Eddie’s pov! 💖)

cw: smoking (weed and nicotine), R’s hair is mentioned but unspecified texture/length, also wears Eddie’s shirt, R has breasts + V,  Eddie and Reader are both varying degrees of stoned while performing sex acts (please be safe IRL and don’t read if that makes you uncomfy!!), pt. ii will have: voyeurism (Eddie and R fool around and Steve watches), blow jobs, masturbation, both the boys being Down Bad™️

wc: 2.5k (part i)

_____

The sun has sunk low over Forest Hills, Eddie’s room cast in deep blue where the golden path of his bedside lamp doesn’t touch.

He’s lighting up a post-sex cigarette, one of the best things this shitty world has to offer, in his opinion- second only to feeling your warm body against his; writhing and wriggling with pleasure, neck craned to let him lick the sloping sweat from your skin- or times like now, when you’re calm and satiated, nude under the comfort of sheets and the weight of your head on his chest.

Casting a hand out to shuffle blindly through the bedside table, Eddie wraps his other arm around the sleepy length of you, pulling you tighter to himself; your response a wordless, happy little noise. His hand deep in the drawer catches on a stray cigarette, then around the hard plastic of a spare lighter. With a sigh of contentment, he kisses the top of your head before bringing the filter to his lips.

Sparks catch under his thumb, cherry of the cig burning red- like some sort of sleeper agent responding to the click, you sit up with a jolt, stealing the mess of sheets upwards, exposing Eddie’s lower half to the cool air.

Eddie swears, startled- thinking you were almost asleep, he’d been nearly careless with the open flame- tossing the lighter aside, he reaches towards your back that now faces him. “Jesus, babe. Give a guy some warning before you snap to attention like a damn general.”

Thumb pressed to the notches of your spine, palm wide around your lower back, Eddie can feel the quiet giggle that shakes through your ribs.

 “Sorry,” you whisper once you’re finished, still staring at the far wall like you're trying not to break a spell. Your arms are crossed, sheets bunching around your chest- “Had a thought.”

“Must’ve been a good one,” Eddie muses, thumb following the line of your spine down, like he’s petting an oversized cat.

In true feline fashion your back arches into his touch, encouraging his palm to sweep up again, to your shoulder blade this time as you murmur, “I wanna go swimming.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s immediately agreeable, taking a long drag from the cig, letting smoke fill out the hollows around his lungs. “We’ll go to Lover’s Lake tomorrow. Heard it’s gonna be a hot one.”

Hawkins is having a record heat wave for the second summer in a row- as if all the damn underground monster shit and horrific earthquakes of last year weren’t enough already: global warming to top it all off. The sun has been merciless these last few weeks, peaking midday, nothing for it but to lie in a heated daze on the kitchen tiles of whoever’s house is the least amount of bitch to get to.

Not that Eddie’s complaining about you being half-naked most of the time. He thinks this is the year you might actually kill him, now that he can touch you, call you his- every curve of upper calf in those short shorts, every soft slip of stomach peeking out from cropped tops- he’s got enough spank bank material to last until his deathbed. (Which he’s decidedly allowed to joke about, since, ya know, the whole almost-dying thing last spring.)

Eddie moves on haptic memory to set aside his cigarette, searching pinky-out for the lip of the ashtray (ceramic, with a poorly-drawn Snoopy, the ears far too big- you’d laughed until you cried over it at the thrift store; he was fifty cents poorer that day but rich and dizzy off your glee). 

“No, not the lake. And I wanna go swimming now.” There’s a hint of petulance in your voice, walking the thin line of childish whine that only appears these days after you’ve smoked, tongue and desires loosened and lax with the help of the finest hash stash in Hawkins. 

There’s a smile threatening to split Eddie’s face in two. He’s been working at that hard-won wall of your solitude for ages now, showing rather than telling you it’s okay to ask for things, that you’re safe to make requests and hell, even demands, from him. Eddie’s not sure what he wouldn’t do for you, at this point- hasn’t found that line yet. Probably doesn’t exist.

A monster of my own design, he thinks, fondly, sweeping the hair from your neck so he can see the outline of cheek and jawbone, reflective with lamplit glow. “Baby, there’s nowhere to swim right now- it’s dark and that’s not real safe. Tomorrow I’ll make us some sandwiches- we can drive out to the lake, you can get stoned and I’ll play lifeguard.”

It’s probably too much to hope you’ve swallowed this bitter pill of compromise in silence, but based on the lack of response, it’s certainly possible. Eddie presses his thumb into the muscle where your neck meets shoulder, massage a silent apology for saying no when you’d been so good to ask. 

Crickets chirp in chorus outside, sound dampened by the glass window- he needs to open it soon, get the hot air out and night breeze flowing (though he is loath to replace the heady smell of sex wrapped like a cozy blanket around his room).

He feels you shuffle under his hand, eyes popping open to watch- you’ve tucked your chin over the dip in your shoulder, looking down the slope of your own nose at him, an expression on your face that makes Eddie’s stomach flip (with nerves, fear, excitement, hard to pinpoint exactly).

Your voice is quiet but steady when you speak, Eddie’s massaging fingers freezing to a halt when you say, “I know a place, open right now, with a lit-up pool. And a lifeguard.”

A thin tendril of smoke from the ashtray floats into Eddie’s vision as he stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment. Then he sits up, crushing the cherry into Snoopy’s wavered outline (sorry, pal) before brushing arms with you, patient and stern with a headshake to match- “No way, sweetheart.”

“Why-y?” That petulance is back, Eddie’s heart kicking up in response; it’s your turn to give the physical affection, winding your arms in a closed loop around his neck, forehead bumping against his jaw as he works it back and forth. 

His stitched-tight resolve quickly unspools as the wet plush of your lips track a path across his throat; he clears it before squeezing at your side again, one last argument to try and stick like cooked spaghetti to a wall. “You’re high.”

You snort, puff of breath sending goosebumps across his skin, rapidly cooling from lack of your affection- “Yeah, and you’re not. So you can drive us there, and then smoke again with me before we go in, and Stevie boy will keep us safe in that nice, heated, well-lit pool of his.”

Even as you speak, Eddie’s shaking his head, but it’s more in disbelief of his own weakness (namely: you). He slips a hand to your cheek, pulling back to take you in- mischief shimmering like twin stars in your eyes as you lock onto his gaze, lips parting pliant when his thumb swipes at your bottom lip. 

“You gonna behave yourself?”

It’s less of a question and more of a check-in, the meaning behind the words an undulating variable, a riddle with a thousand different answers.

The one you do give is complimented by a wicked grin, punctuated with a quick kiss (awfully chaste, considering your bare front pressed against his), your mirthful delight at having won both unsettling and tantalizing.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

With a sudden push to his chest, Eddie goes down easy for you, hair spreading riotous across the pillow as you move with shocking fluidity to throw a leg over his hip. Your hands meet in the middle of his chest, just under the rippling ink of a crow in flight, settling your weight comfortably on his stomach. 

Eddie’s sure you can feel his pulse, jack-rabbit fast, as you dip to kiss beneath his jaw. His hands automatically settle on your hips, grip tightening with each loving kiss you scatter over his collarbones, his sternum.

He’s half-hard under the sheets by the time your lips find the hitch of his ribs, stuttering and expanding to meet your mouth- can’t be faulted, really, not when your bare chest gleams in the low light, the top of your head imploring for the warmth of his wide palm to rest. 

Just when Eddie thinks he’s in the clear, that the call of your needs (evident in the slickness pooling just under his navel where your naked cunt rests) will drive the call of your wants to distraction, you sit up again, using your planted hands as leverage to swing completely off and away.

The coldness of your absence is cruel and unusual punishment. Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, deciding right then that he won’t be above begging tonight- when you suddenly reappear with a clean beach towel in either arm, pulled from the bowels of his closet.

There’s youthful, honest enthusiasm to your movements- something that’s catching, apparently, ‘cuz Eddie’s tipping himself out of bed with a resigned sigh, pulling boxers over his flagging dick and answering your spree of questions about these new evening plans.

“Sure, bring a water bottle. No, babe, we don’t need sunscreen- it’s night. Yeah, I’ll bring more weed. How ‘bout you bring me that old shoulder bag and we can bring some stuff with us.”

As you work on digging through the mess of a combined closet to find something suitable for swimming, Eddie folds the two towels that you’d found along with a baggie of joints into the bag. You’re humming under your breath while getting dressed, and Eddie’s staring at all the leftover space- what does one pack for a nighttime high swim with one’s girlfriend and the guy you’ve both sort-of mentioned threesoming with?

He tosses in a well-loved edition of your favorite book of poems, figuring the Harrington abode will have plenty of snacks. Food for the mind, he thinks, then snorts at his own joke. 

“C’mon, snorty.” You beckon from the doorway, an old t-shirt of his just swishing past the dark strip of your bikini bottoms, van keys held aloft. 

At the front door, there’s a brief argument about coats (you think you’ll be fine without, Eddie disagrees vehemently) which Eddie wins, wrangling your arms into the sleeves of his oil-stained work jacket before locking the front door behind you both.

Eddie smiles, a secret, pure thrill watching you tiptoe gingerly across the gravel on bare feet (too stubborn to actually wear the sandals that hang from either hand). His coat is bunched up around your ears while your legs poke out like some sort of winterized bird with bare legs. 

There’s a bright pang of love that suddenly hits hits sideways, a dizzying urge to sink on denim knees to the ground, sharp rocks be damned, just to kiss the tender spot behind your knees, to feel the hill of your calf under his tongue…

Your giggle breaks his reverie, impatient and pointed jiggling of the locked passenger handle clunking out into the quiet park. “Quit staring, weirdo. You coming?”

Hope so, Eddie thinks, spinning the key ring in looping arcs around his pointer finger. He bypasses the porch steps completely, boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Your cheery mood is sustained during the short car ride as you chatter animatedly about some coworker drama that you forgot to catch him up on, Eddie’s hand drawn like a magnet to your upper thigh while he drives. 

But by the time he’s pulling the van next to Harrington’s beemer, your eagerness has waned, speech drifting off into silence once he’s parked. 

“Hey.” His voice draws you back to him, a bit, your eyes too wide and roving for his liking, coat sleeves clenched around opposing fists as you hang onto his words. “Sweetheart. We don’t have to go inside. Can go anywhere- diner for some food, back home, the damn trash heap for all I care. Just want you to feel safe.”

“I do,” you counter, earnest but chest still punching a fast rhythm. “I feel safe. I just… you think he’s even awake?”

There’s a yellow glow coming from one of the second-floor windows. Your fingers twist harshly around fabric in the dark, breath loud. 

Eddie nods, then kills the engine and grabs behind his seat for the Ziploc of pre-rolls, an offering held to you between two ringed fingers. “Want a bit of Green Courage before going in?”

The van windows are soon fuzzily obscured with a haze of smoke, sprinklers for the pristine lawn nearby hissing to an automated start at the turn of 11 PM. The weed coaxes your earlier state of relax to the forefront, this time with an added layer of giggles, which Eddie finds desperately cute. 

He’s sure he’s high now, too, ‘cuz he’s unintentionally focusing really hard on your lips as you speak, and you’re letting him, corner of your mouth quirking when you ask, “Gonna take me inside, Munson?”

“Uh huh.” An automatic response, just so he can keep staring- when you pop the handle of your door open Eddie reaches, faltering before landing on your face, cupping the tilt of your cheek- “Meant it. Earlier. Just say the word. Take you anywhere.”

Weed fragments his speech but you melt with understanding, leaning into his hand, your lashes sweeping sweetly at the bridge of his thumb as you whisper, “Okay.”

You’re out the door and he’s left scrambling in the wake, hauling the strap of the packed bag over one shoulder and snapping up your forgotten shoes from the footwell. He locks the doors (nevermind that this is a nice neighborhood, can’t trust rich people farther than he can throw ‘em and Eddie has always been better at running over shotput on field days) and hikes it across the grass to where you stand, a beacon of beauty under the porch light.

“Ready?” he asks.

Your bare foot- flecked with wet grass- trails up the back of your opposing leg, veins at the whites of your eyes spidering pink with anticipation (and the fresh joint) as you turn to smile at him. “Yeah. Bring it on.”

“Your wish, my command,” Eddie says, winking, knuckles pulled into a fist to rap at the front door of one Steve Harrington. 

___

[END: PART ONE]

[readychilledwine]

This is baby daddy. Stealing Lizzy's account to give you a play by play of what just happened.

Lizzy is both stunned into silence and crying.

Lizzy may be in shock.

Lizzy just found out she has a little over 2.5k followers. I, a frequent viewer of her follower count, thought she knew and just was not excited because she has been my little depresso espresso.

Lizzy made a joke about googling Imposter Syndrome.

Lizzy feels horrible for not updating more now.

Lizzy is going back to her laptop.

Lizzy says she is going to finish her poly week fics tonight and tomorrow so she can focus on other projects. (That means I get to read smut later. This is a win for me.)

Lizzy is maybe going to plan a 2.5k celebration for you all. She's doing her happy rambles, and that hasn't happened in a few months. (This is also a win for me. We don't need to discuss why.)

Thank you all for making my Lizzy feel like she isn't wasting her time and for letting her into your lives a little. She thought she would maybe have 3 of you who would enjoy her. Now there's 2.5k of you.

I'm sure she will make a poll asking about what you all want her to write later. It is Elizabeth tradition, after all.

Very proud of my mamacita.

[yandereheathen]

The Boss's Plaything [18+ Ateez Yandere Hoongjoong x Fem Reader]

Paring: Yandere Hoongjoong x Fem Reader

Yandere songhwa x Reader if you squint at the end. Warnings: Yandere dark themes!! NSFW Non-con, Mentions of hurting other people, jealousy, voyeurism. Choking, knee grinding, no protection (BAD) Disclaimer: This in no way reflects any of the real Ateez members. This is my own fan content :> I also do not endorse these kind of relationships. Enjoy with your own mental heath in mind <3 Word count: 2.5k "You know what they say about Office romance."

Working for Kim Hongjoong was an experience. Long days, short deadlines, and odd requests were quite normal. However, the pay was terrific, along with the benefits. Also, you had the fortunate situation of studying and being best friends with him before his creation and rise of the Cromer Corp. You, him, and Songhwa were good friends. You and he naturally followed Hongjoong after schooling to help him with his dreams. He was ruthless but hard-working, and you knew this company was his whole life, and you wanted nothing more than to see him grow and achieve that.

So, you started your day seemingly like any other. 5:30am Two americanos, one black with extra ice for him, the further your own with cream and sugar. You liked things sweet. 

Little did you know, so did he.

You called up the elevator to his high-end apartment, going through your phone and seeing the schedule for today. Meetings, some project updates, and, of course, The Halazia Party. You and Hwa had been running ragged along with the other branch heads. Well, mostly, you had to keep Woo and San more to task than the others. 

You have gotten along very well with the other branch members. All brilliant in their rights, you always felt a little out of place. You know the lower associate whispered that you didn't quit having the background or shine they did and that you had only gotten this position due to your friendship. First, do your best to ignore those and work as hard as possible. You never wanted to bother Hongjoong with that stuff. 

You opened the door with your hip, put the coffee down at his desk, and opened the blinds, looking around his office. It was just like him. It was clean but had a carefully cultured style. Everything in the room had meaning. Small, expensive gifts were the case from investors, and his awards and degrees were also put in specific positions on the counters around the room. Only one thing was slightly out of place. You pick it up from the right side of his desk. A picture Hwa had taken of both of you in school. You were laughing at something happening on screen, and Hongjoong had a rare small smile on his face, looking up at you. Not that he didn't smile. He had the charming smile he saved for clients or investors and his "demon face" when he put someone in their place. This was a smile you didn't see often, but you caught glimpses. 

Only when looking at you.

"Y/N. I see your habit of coming in unannounced still going strong."

You smile to yourself, turning. Hongjoong was already dressed impeccably. His hair spilled black and bleached and slightly slicked back. A sly played on his lips, looking you up and down. To check if you are dressed appropriately, of course. He was so particular about fashion.

Boy, did that skirt he had bought you hug your curves.

"Yeah, well, I want to ensure you had sun and coffee for when you got in. It is a big day."

You beam at him, but he sits, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at his computer but still giving you glances.

"We do. Have you and Songhwa finalized the food, venue, and security?"

You nod and start listing off confirmations and any other information that he would need to know. Emails he needs to answer or reminders.

You worked so hard for him. Even since school, what you lacked in pure born talent you made up with hard work, determination, and empathy. He loved to see how hard you tried for him. To impress your best friend turned boss. It more than stroked his delusional ego. You were his best project, along with Cromer Corp, of course. A sweet, nervous girl, pure and so tentative. It was easy to fall for you and keep you in his clutches. Hongjoong has liked to collect things ever since he was young, whether it be things, money, or people. 

His carefully created branch members and brand. You and Songhwa are the jewels. Park Seonghwa, someone who he found was the only person to match him, a perfect right-hand man for all aspects of his business. Even the more unsavory parts that you didn't know about. Then there was you, Y/N. The sugar in this recipe. His one guilty pleasure. Something to be carefully shaped and modeled into his perfect little plaything.

Tonight, he was going to take that next step.

"I don't want to wear this. It will look silly. It looks like a collar."

You frown at Songhwa as he helps you zip up your dress. He bites his lip, eyeing the leather in your hand. He knew, of course, that Songhwa knew everything about his boss. 

Things he had helped Hongjoong with. The threats of the people who wanted to talk to you in school, then the carried-out threats on the people that threatened his friend's careful little relationship. There was one part of him. The empathetic human part that made him squirm thinking about it was the blood and screams. However, he knew he was no different. He liked the neat little world Hongjoong and Y/N had with the other members. He also would do anything to keep that peace. Even if it meant dooming you to your part in his plan.

"It is fashionable Y/N. You know he will throw a fit."

He takes it, slipping it over your neck, fixing the latch so it is tight but uncomfortable. He glances at the ceiling, a slight shine of a camera only seen by the tall man. He gives it a quick look:

"Are you watching? This is what you wanted, isn't it, Sir."

You smile, greeting the guests, trying to hide your slight annoyance. For the event, Hongjoong liked to dress you and all of the members. Typically, he had you in a simple but still conservative outfit. This was not the case. A tight red dress is lined with lace dancing around your hips and chest. The leather band with a latch in the back and a tiny hourglass charm in the front only made you feel more self-conscious. 

You took a sip of your wine in your glass, waved over by Jongho and Mingi, sitting at a far table. Both dress smartly, of course, but with their own personalities shined in. Jongho had a more straightforward, classic fitting for the head of HR, while Mingi had more colors and tight pants showing his old legs, perfect for the marketing head. You flop in the chair next to them, fanning yourself. 

"Thanks for calling me over. I need a break just for a moment before I do my rounds on the other side."

"Joong, has you rubbing around in a dress like that? he must be crazy. Minji winks at you.

You roll your eyes.

"Yea, yea, I know I look ridiculous in this. I don't know what Hongjoong is thinking."

you pick at the dress, painfully aware of any "flaws" it shows.

"I don't think that is what he meant, Y/N."

The younger man sips his drink, looking into your eyes with a ... knowing look? What was that about? 

You playfully hit him, standing up and stretching. You feel a hand sneaking around your waist, pulling you to his side; you let out a small yelp.

"There she is. I have been looking all over for you. I need help with something."

You look at the handsome face of Hongjoong. He is dressed to the nines like always in a front tye suit, the inner shirt matching your own dress, a pocket square of the same lace in his front pocket. His mouth pulled into an odd smirk, his eyes lingering below your chin. You don't haul away used to his closeness by now. Hongjoong always said he liked to be more hands-on with things.

He really did enjoy handling his "things."

"I was just taking a short break. Did the Reps from Stay Offices come yet. I know Chan and Bin said they would-"

Hongjoong ran his finger on your chin and traveled lightly with his nimble gloved fingers to the collar, tugging it ever so slightly.

"This looks good on you, Y/N. It really suits you."

Your ears got warm as you met his eye, not pulling away in embarrassment. 

"Is this some joke calling me your pet, huh? I get enough slack from the associates."

You laugh light-heartedly, but he doesn't match you playing with the small charm eyes cold.

"I told you to tell me if anyone was giving you trouble, Y/N I would handle them."

Mingei and Jogho cough, getting up and waving at you. 

"That is our cue to head out and schmooze. You both have fun~"

Mingi winks again, and Jongho looks at you slightly. Was that worry? You just brushed it off, turning back to your boss.

"It is fine. Harmless teasing, I promise I am a big girl. You don't need to take care of me so much. I am supposed to do that for you!"

You smile, holding his face and rubbing his cheek lightly. His whole body seemed to soften at your touch, but he pulled away quickly, looking around, making sure none of his business partners had seen this moment. You weren't ready yet, after all.

"Y/N. Can you come with me quickly? I need to speak to you about something."

You tilt your head, letting go and crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"Are you sure? People are still-"

"This can not wait."

You already have made him wait too long.

You walk into his office, slightly nervous. You run through your head everything that needs to be done. The food tasted and perfect, you triple-checked every guest. What could-

"You look beautiful, Y/N."

He steps forward, cornering you to his desk, putting his hand on it, boxing you in, and smiling at you.

This was a new smile, almost.

Predatory. his black eye held something more than the softness or anger. 

"Well, the dress you picked out was perfect, as always. Was this all you needed to"

He cuts you off again, pulling you by the leather collar onto his pouty lips, his other hand pulling you against him. He lets a soft moan into your mouth, a release almost as you feel his hand grope your backside and something poke your leg.

Your brain goes a mile a minute. Shock, confusion, anger, and something else mixed inside you. You try to pull away, but he grabs you harder, forcing his tongue into your mouth and mixing his saliva with yours. You continue to struggle, but it seems to only strengthen his grip. After another minute of young wreaking in your mouth, he pulls his mouth away just so slightly to gently kiss the top of your ear.

"That's a good plaything. Y/N, you were waiting for this, weren't you."

You quickly shake your head, face and ears hot.

"Hongjoong, a-are you drunk or something that's going on?"

He only laughs, his knee sliding up between your legs, rubbing the soft fabric of your clothes sex.

"Halazia can mean Hearts awakened Y/N. I chose tonight to awaken your heart and mind to your rightful place. Next to me. Forever."

He nuzzles into your neck, kissing it lightly, knee rubbing faster; you let out a whimper, hands on his chest, and you try to push away from him.

"Hongjoong, please, I don't; you are my boss. We are best friends. Let's go back to the party. You must have been drinking too much."

Hongjoong rows into your shoulder, pushing you onto his desk, the objects painfully cutting into your back. He stands between your legs, rutting into between your legs, his eyes lidded and breathing heavily.

"I don't think so, Y/N. I have let you simmer long enough. It is time for my meal. You. Are. Mine."

He rips up your dress roughly, pulling down the thin fabric of your panties. You scream, but it is cut short by another kiss. Even rougher this time mixed with whispers of.

"That's a good girl."

and 

"Look nice and wet for your Sir already, are you."

Your brain screams for him to stop, but your body heats up, enjoying the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit gently as her ravages your mouth. He pulls away, leaving you rambling and light-headed, before undoing his pants and rubbing the top of his cock on your slit.

"How long I have waited for this day, Y/N. You have no idea. You were teasing. The frustrated night, the people I had to hurt to keep you my perfect plaything. All min now."

Before you can question him, he trusts you. Thanks to his fingers, your body was prepared, not your mind. This was Hongjoong, who you loved like a best friend whom you followed, loved, and supported your whole adult life. You had no idea he had these feelings and weren't sure you liked them. 

You fought his thrusts in vain. He was too strong, and the adrenaline of finally fucking the love of his life only boosted that his lips found your chest young, hungrily licking around your sensitive bud. You wiggle under him, trying your best not to call out in pleasure that was coming in waves from your core. He stood up, egged on by your little noises.

"That's it. You are taking me so well, Y/N. Look at how perfectly your little pussy fits around me. Take it, take me inside of you, let me fill you with all my cum. Let me fill your womb that is begging for my seed. My precious little plaything."

He closes his hand around your throat, resiting your air as he mercilessly pounds into you, the object cutting your skin. With repeated motions, he lets out a hiss as he pours inside you.

"F-fuck, that's it, take it. Take it like the good object you are."

You bite into your lip, drawing out blood. The metallic taste mixes with his taste in your mouth. as your body betrays you. His love filling your already sore and abused pussy is too much. Everything was already too much. His confession, anger, and mark on my heart, body, and soul. You could only mutter out jibberish as you lay on his desk, the picture of both of you beside your arm.

He grinds into you, taking out his phone to take another picture. He could also frame this one but keep it on his desk, and then he would have to send it to Songhwa to give him a better angle after all. He waves at the small red light his other assistant thought he didn't know about hiding on the shelf. 

"You will enjoy your new position with me, Y/N. I will make sure of it."

Author note: *Cries* this was a heck in a half I am not great with real people, but the great Kpop Yandere writers have been such an inspiration for me I wanted to try <3 Thank you for your support :> reminder my asks and requests are open!

[irisintheafterglow]

End Game #9 (volleyball captain!gojo x you)

summary: during the final nationals match against kyoto, the captain wins a bet.

wc: 2.5k

cw/tags: mild angst/comfort, established relationship (pet name-angel), mostly just fluff and volleyball, swearing, more fluff and volleyball

note: HELLO VOLLEYBALL!GOJO NATION *crickets except for midi cheering alone at the back of the stadium* uh anyways i know it's been months since i updated this, but i wanted to give you all a gift for the new year starting with the series that brought me a lot of new friends at the beginning of my blog's creation! i can't thank you all enough for the support you've given this series and i hope you enjoy this last (official) iteration :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <33

“Looks like they’ve gotten better,” you observe in slight disbelief while the scorekeepers flip the board to show 25-23. By some miracle, Tokyo managed to rip the fourth set from Kyoto’s hands right when it seemed that all was lost. It still didn’t help the queasy feeling in your stomach. “A lot better.”

“Or, we’re becoming inferior,” Yaga growls with fiery determination burning under his sunglasses. You slide the basket of water bottles from under the bench and stand to grab the box of clean towels. Your coach inhales one more time to speak and you already know what his command will be. “Deal with Satoru.”

“I’ll do my best.” From the start of the fourth set, Kyoto had Tokyo on the run again. Despite their best efforts, Tokyo was struggling to hold up against the relentless pace set by their opponents, fighting to maintain their resolve and willing the other team to break first. Between the time of your first practice match and Nationals, Kyoto’s players significantly improved, much more than your team’s. Though they’d made steady progress over the past few months leading up to these crucial games, it seemed that the slope of Kyoto’s improvement was steeper. It also didn’t help that, wherever you looked, you were surrounded by the most prestigious volleyball recruiters in the world with their shiny reading glasses and slender fingers tapping away at their keyboards. Both teams were essentially under a microscope, none more than the third years that were at their wit’s end trying to prove that they were pro-material. And, whether people acknowledged it or not, all eyes were on your boyfriend and captain of the Tokyo team, Gojo Satoru. 

“He’s overexerting himself to the point where he’s making mistakes,” Suguru says to you quietly when you hand him a bottle. You nod, both of you aware that he’s preaching to the choir. “To the point where I’m noticing, so that means they’re noticing.” He tilts his head up to the stands, where you catch a few Jujutsu Volleyball Society officials conversing with whom you could only assume were Olympic recruiters. The thought of them discussing Satoru’s abilities and reputation in blunt detail makes you wince. 

“Have you talked to him about it?” The vice-captain shakes his head, eyeing his best friend warily. 

“Haven’t had the chance to.” The corner of your mouth turns down and you follow his eyeline, recognizing the familiar fake smile and emotionless blue eyes while he charms some brave fans that pushed their way to the court’s barricades. “Even now, he isn’t taking a break.”

“Mmm, well, you know him,” you sigh. The group of lovestruck girls hand Satoru various items and printed photos for him to sign and he takes them, flicking a black marker over their surface with all the grace of an old Hollywood movie star. “It’s always about others, never himself.” 

“Except when it comes to you, then he gets to be selfish,” Suguru reminds you and you shrug. Your casual response causes his eyebrows to draw in concern, like he was alarmed by your indifference. His tone is much more unsure when he asks for clarification. “Right?” You inhale deeply and shake your head again, gathering what little thoughts you could from the jumbled mess in your mind. “Did something happen between you two?”

“No, no. We’re fine…I think,” you half-heartedly reassure him, but the skeptical raise of his eyebrows tells you he isn’t convinced in the slightest. “He’s just been off, lately,” you admit. “I think the pressure that’s been building up for three years is finally getting to him.” 

“Pretty inconvenient time to crack, don’t you think?”

“Burnout doesn’t wait for you to finish Nationals, Suguru,” you conclude, patting him on the back in farewell before you find Satoru. “Good luck in the last set. And, for the record, the evenness of your gameplay hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Recruiters can see how reliable you are. If they don’t, they need their eyes checked,” you joke before maneuvering between players to find Satoru on the bench, in Yaga’s spot. His eyes are dulled from exhaustion, no matter how much he was trying to hide it. His forehead is covered in sweat and you kneel in front of him to wipe his face with a dry towel. “When’s the last time you drank water?”

“The last time you asked me if I drank water,” he answers and you know he’s trying to force his sing-songy lilt into his voice, but it falls flat onto the court floor. “Thank you, angel,” he murmurs as you swipe the towel over his eyes, allowing him a brief second of relief from the blinding fluorescents above. 

“Of course. I’ll let you get away with it this time, even though I miss those pretty blues,” you whisper and the smallest smile appears on his face. But he can’t bring himself to look at you, not when he’s on the brink of falling apart. It was killing him just as much as it was killing you, watching him stumble during the one moment where he needed to stand tall the most. The pressure was getting to him and his final appearance at Nationals was compounded by the scathing words of his father, the unimpressed stares of Jujutsu brass, and the intense scrutiny from the recruiters he was trying to win over. “Need anything else, captain?”

“A long fucking nap,” he groans and you hum in assent, letting his warm cheek rest in your freezing palm. “This’ll do, for now.”

“Alright, Atlas, but you’re gonna have to get back to holding up the world in about five minutes.” 

“Holding up the world is fucking exhausting,” he mutters. “Being captain is exhausting.” Before you can come up with another comforting response, his eyes suddenly fly open and peer at you with more intensity than you’ve seen within the past few days. He pulls away from your hand and looks at you, really looks at you, like he’s come to some revelation. “You called me captain.”

“What?”

“You called me captain,” he echoes slowly, a dazzling grin breaking out over his face that you didn’t realize you’d missed so much. You’re speechless, startled by his newfound enthusiasm from just one word. “You actually did it.”

“I guess I did,” you respond with obvious confusion.

“Say it again,” he says with all the seriousness of announcing a death. 

“Satoru–”

“Say it again,” he repeats and you don’t realize how close his face has gotten to yours, so close that you can smell the faint minty smell of the gum he’d stolen from your bag. “Please.” 

“It’s good to see you back to normal, captain.” His smile grows even wider and suddenly he’s kissing you, with both hands on your cheeks and leaning over you while you continue to kneel on the floor in front of him. Your face is set on fire, keenly aware of the thousands of eyes that can see both of you and this display of affection. Satoru doesn’t seem to care, though, and the glittering brightness of his eyes is all you focus on when he pulls away. 

“What can I say? You bring out a different side of me.”

“Cheesy lines too? You’re feeling better than I thought.”

“Nothing like winning a bet to light a fire in a man’s heart.”

“You know, if I’d known that was all it took to get you back, I’d have said it sooner,” you chuckle and his lips peck your nose until you gently push his face away. “I’ll ask about the change in behavior after you win. Now, go,” you giggle and he all but leaps from the bench, instantly in top-form and letting his voice boom through the building as he calls his team to him. 

“It’s fifteen points,” he reminds them, who muster up all their energy to look more confident after noticing the shift in their captain’s behavior. “Fifteen points at Nationals for the first time in who knows how long, so make ‘em count. Don’t let me take all of them,” he taunts and real confidence appears in his players, dead set on snatching the points away from Kyoto. “Let’s go!” 

And, just like during the practice match and the match at the beach, no one is safe from the sheer power of Gojo Satoru. It’s as if he’s woken from the dead, refreshed and wielding enough energy to elicit sparks from his fingers and flickering of the overhead lights. When you look at his eyes, they’re not the hollow pits they’ve been for the months leading up to Nationals. Instead, a dark shadow of unrelenting resolve covers his eyes and radiates from his body like an aura, sending shivers down the bodies of opposing players. In true Satoru fashion, he exploits every advantage he recognizes, whether that be a skill of his own team or the pitfall of the opposition. He knows you’re watching, too, and trusts your eyes like they were his own. Kyoto makes a mistake by calling a timeout when they’re down, 13-11, and Satoru makes a beeline for you; in hushed tones, you relay what you see before he can open his mouth.

“Todo’s hiding a limp on his right an–”

“Ankle, and Kamo’s primarily using his left hand to launch spikes. So, that means–”

“Something’s off with his right, maybe a jammed pointer finger or tweaked thumb. They’ll think you’re gonna take the final point of the game to show off to the recruiters, so if you fake a hit on the left edge, bait Todo and the front line to block you–”

“Suguru can blow past Kamo’s weakened right hand–”

“And the Tokyo Jujutsu team wins Nationals,” you conclude as the whistle blows, lightly swatting Satoru’s arm to urge him back onto the court. “Go, stupid. You’re almost there.”

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he calls, skipping onto the court and yanking Suguru by the back of his jersey, pulling him to the side to confirm the plan. He shoots you one last wink before broadcasting a hand signal to the rest of the team behind his back. With Nanami, Megumi, and Yuuji in the front row and Suguru, Satoru, and Inumaki in the back, it was the ideal rotation to shift leverage to Tokyo. A deafeningly powerful jump serve from Satoru immediately throws Kyoto off balance, and it doesn’t take much for Suguru to send Todo’s unsuccessful hit to Megumi, who pulls the same infuriating dump that he achieved during the practice match. “That was bold,” Satoru says to his protégé with pure admiration, “even for me.” Megumi shrugs, but stands a little taller from satisfaction with his point. 

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know you think I’m awesome, even if you won’t admit it.”

“I was talking about Geto,” Megumi deadpans and Satoru’s face contorts into indignance that makes you laugh from your seat.

“He’s not even a setter!”

“I was kidding, captain. Let’s win already,” his student responds impatiently. And win, they did. The final play you discussed with Satoru pans out flawlessly, with all attention going to the captain of the Tokyo team in anticipation of the game-winning point, only to be sent to his right-hand man. The cacophony of cheering and cries of joy is eardrum-shattering, but you don’t care as the rest of the team rushes onto the court and buries Suguru in a dogpile. Your heart swells at the sight of the nods of approval from the recruiters given to Suguru and Satoru, whispering among themselves and writing down their contact information. Despite Yaga gripping his sunglasses so hard that the frames broke, it doesn’t seem to bother him as he slams his palm onto the players’ backs with pride. You even think you catch Todo teary-eyed from the other side of the net, yelling something about being happy for his best friend. Hours of celebration later, as you walk with your hand in Satoru’s down the quiet streets of your neighborhood, you finally get to ask him why calling him ‘captain’ had such a profound effect on his psyche. 

“Being happy about winning the bet isn’t enough?” You look at him doubtfully and watch his cheeks turn a little pinker. “Alright, fine. But, you can’t make fun of me for this, okay?”

“I promise,” you say, making a big show of hooking your free pinky finger in his. “At least, I won’t make fun of you in public for it.”

“That’s enough for me,” he concedes with a smile. “It’s just…winning at Nationals wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve done this year, not even in all three years of high school.”

“What’s been the most difficult, then? You were literally on the verge of burnout today, so I don’t know any other circumstances where–”

“Winning you,” he murmurs, stopping you on the sidewalk and turning you to face him. The streetlights are dim enough to where the moon shines off of his hair and his face seems to glow like a statue carved from marble. “That was the hardest thing I’ve done.” You blink once, twice, and still don’t understand. 

“What do you mean, ‘winning me?’ How am I harder to get than winning Nationals?”

“Nationals was my dad’s dream. It always was. I started caring about going to Nationals when we made that silly bet to get you to call me captain. But, I’ve cared about making you fall in love with me since you took a sip from my soda can during our first year.”

“I’m still not a fan of that fizzy sugar water,” you chuckle and he looks at you so fondly, so softly, that you’re glad his arms have found their way around your waist to hold you up and keep you standing. “You’ve loved me since our first year?” 

“I loved you before I knew your name in class. And then, today, I figured if I could get you to fall in love with me when I thought it would take a lifetime, I could win some National volleyball title.” His pretty mouth breaks into that lopsided grin that you’d fallen for time and time again. 

“‘Some National volleyball title,’” you echo, slightly delirious from how warm he made you feel. “As if I’m more important than that.”

“Because you are,” he vows with utmost devotion that makes you dizzy, kissing you under the spring moon like it was the first time he could finally see you clearly. “You’re more important than anything, and that’s the truth.”

He was infuriating, to say the least, but you’d found that you didn’t mind how much he irritated you as long as he loved you just as much. 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[forlix]

⤷ last updated apr. 29, 2024. ⤷ read the #about my work section here before proceeding. ⤷ minors and/or ageless blogs that interact w/nsfw content will be blocked.

𝐊𝐄𝐘 ♡ = fluff ☁ = angst ϟ = suggestive/smut gn! = gender neutral ✧ = personal favorite [!] = most recent

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 · chan · minho · hyunjin · felix

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 · 방찬

dimple ♡ ϟ gn! [!] 2.8k words · fratboy!chan ⤷ incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang.

𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 · 황현진

places, places! ♡ ϟ gn! 1.3k words · idol!hyunjin x stylist!reader ⤷ you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.

fallen star ☁ ✧ gn! 2.5k words · ex-bf!hyunjin ⤷ an impromptu drive to the airport at five in the morning rekindles conversations and feelings alike.

crying lightning ☁ ϟ ✧ 11.1k words · idol!hyunjin x stylist!reader ⤷ hyunjin finds you’re not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.

ace ♡ ✧ gn! 15.2k words · volleyball player!hyunjin x tutor!reader ⤷ volleyball superstar and your personal hell proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade.

𝐇𝐀𝐍 · 한지성

empty my mind ♡ ☁ ϟ 6.4k words · fwb!jisung ⤷ stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 · 이용복

lifetimes ♡ ☁ gn! 1k words · established relationship, hurt/comfort ⤷ "if you smell the same as someone, you'll have some peace of mind."

subtext ♡ gn! 1.1k words · roommate!felix x streamer!reader ⤷ in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

resurface ♡ ☁ gn! 1.7k words · established relationship ⤷ felix misses you a little extra tonight; good thing you're way ahead of him.

everything has changed (besides myself) ♡ ☁ ✧ gn! 5.4k words · babysitter!felix, exes to lovers ⤷ the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

not mine ♡ ☁ ✧ gn! 7.7k words · idol!felix, best friends to lovers ⤷ five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 · 스트레이 키즈

when they know they're in love ♡ ☁ gn! 1.4k words · headcanons

skz + the habits you share ♡ ✧ gn! 3.7k words · headcanons

winter falls · collaboration with @astraystayyh ⤷ eight winter-themed fics for each member of stray kids.

skz + reverse writing tropes · 2k followers event ⤷ series of requested minifics from this list.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[t-h-i-n-g]

𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙨𝙪𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙩, 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧.

(Jacob Black x Reader Series)

This is a series based off the request: Hey! For Jacob Black can you do a story where after the two meet and he imprints he starts following her around like a lost puppy completely obsessed and she’s just completely confused and weirded out until he starts growing on her? Female reader if possible, thanks!

I did put some book cannon information in this fic. However there isn’t really a time frame in the story where these events particularly take place. I hope you all enjoy. (Just an fyi updates may be slow)

Total Word Count: 11.9k

Warnings: mainly swearing, crying, slight panic attacks, slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, character dealing with a lot of internal conflict(if any come up later in the series they will be put here)

————

Twilight-masterlist m.masterlist

————

Chapter one: “If I could ask for anything, I would want to go back to the moment we met. I want to experience that magic again, one more time.” -Anonymous (2.5k)

Chapter two: “You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart; imagine my heartbeat when you are in this state.” ― Franz Kafka (2.4k)

Chapter three: “Good things come to those who wait, Better things come to those who try.” ―Nishan Panwar (2.4k)

Chapter four: There are times when two people need to step apart from one another, but there is no rule that says they have to turn and fire. -Robert Breault (2.2k)

Chapter five: They say if the love is true, then it’s easy. But that’s false. Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy. -Dominic Riccitello (2.4k)

Taglist:

@nighttimemoonlover @savakewl @felinegrate @foi-en-toi @sugaraddict301 @prettygreymelody

[covetyou]

open hand or closed fist would be fine

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con, vaginal fisting, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V, creampie, praise kink, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap. word count: 5.7k chapter summary: You see Joel everywhere, the sight of him alone making you even more desperate. You turn up to his door, drenched from the rain, and let him give you (almost) everything you need.

A/N: I cannot believe there's only one week to go. Thank you so much for all your support. ily 💛

The last few days I've been chanting "fist it fic, fist it fic" whenever I've gone to write for this. They hype has been real and the triumphant and feral SCREAM I let escape my body when it was done. You probably all heard it. And the amount of squeezing and examining my own hand I did this last week? Unreal. I am deeply acquanted with my own fist anatomy now.

4k of this is pure porn, 2.5k of which is fisting and the build up, my fucking god.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

song: cherry wine by Hozier

You see him everywhere. You're really not looking for him, but everywhere you turn it seems he's there too. Turning a corner as you walk your dad to a job. Talking in the street, Tess by his side, her eyes briefly catching yours as you stare, a smirk tugging at her lips when you dart your eyes away.

You even see him at work. He ignores you, of course, turning to your colleagues to pick up food, exchanging flirty quips and a wink with one of them, making her giggle and bat her lashes, before walking away without a single glance at you.

It's driving you mad. You don't want to talk to him, you wouldn't even dare to, but seeing him is sending the thread of want through you scalding hot, burning through your veins. There's no let up and there's no relief, no matter how much you make yourself come.

Thankfully, collection day comes around fast.

Your dad had been good recently, even with the change in weather. He maybe could have stretched his pills further, gone a bit longer between collections, but you were eager to see Joel again, and even more eager to have him look at you, to touch you. Seeing him around so often had done nothing to ease your desperation either, and by the time your free day rolls around you're trying not to bounce off the walls.

And, of course, it's fucking raining. You hold off as long as you can, watching as the rain drizzles consistently from the gray sky for hours. With no sign of letting up, you head out, resigning yourself to a damp walk to Joel's apartment. You're going to be wet by the time you get there anyway, rain or not.

You're not quite wet through when your cold knuckles tap against the wood of his door.

When he answers, he takes your breath away. He's stood there, pants slung low on his waist, towel thrown over his shoulder, hair damp and touselled. He's shirtless, his usual shirt no longer stretched across the width of his shoulders, and you gape at him. If the last few weeks hadn't been enough to send you stupid with want for him, this certainly has sealed the deal.

There's a glass of whisky in his hand and he takes a sip, looking at you, before he says anything.

"Did you not see the rain?" he quips.

Your skin prickles and burns just looking at him, the cold wet from outside already leached from your bones just by setting your eyes on his bare skin. You swallow heavy and he's talking again before your brain can kick into gear.

"You really that desperate, ain't you?" You don't answer him. You know he's not talking about the pills any more and you know he already knows the answer.

His eyes roll and he twitches his head to the side. "In," he says, moving from the door, taking another sip of whisky. "And take this shit off, I don't want you drippin' on my floor."

You take your coat off and hang it on a hook on the wall, reaching for the button on your pants just as he throws the towel at you.

"Dry yourself off."

You keep your eyes on him the entire time you strip off the rest of your wet clothes. Now that the towel is gone from his shoulder you can see everything - every scar and blemish on his broad torso, every curl of hair. You've never seen him shirtless and you want to take in every part of him now whilst you still can. He might dress whilst you blink and then the moment will be over. Who knows when you'll see him like this again.

"So, you're so desperate for it you came here in the rain, huh?" He asks, taking another sip from his glass. You don't answer. You're stood in just your panties now, grateful for the warmth in his apartment, but that does nothing to stop the pebbling of your nipples and the shudder that creeps down your spine.

"Dad's out of his meds, he -" you start.

"Sure. S'always the pills," he scoffs. "Don't think I ain't seen you lookin' at me. It's like I'm being fuckin' watched with you out there."

You couldn't really help it, if you saw him your eyes were magnetically drawn to him for as long as possible. You didn't think you'd been that obvious but, well, you'd not exactly tried to hide it either.

He's approaching you now, whisky glass discarded on the table.

"Look at me," he says, tilting your head up with a finger. You reluctantly drag your eyes away from his chest and meet his gaze. His own eyes are burning into yours, maybe as much as yours are to his. If you didn't know better you'd think he felt as needy as you did. You hope it's even for you specifically and not just needy for a warm, wet hole.

"What are we gonna do with you, huh?" You shrug - you didn't mind what he did with you, to you, you just know you needed it. "Something's got you showing up needy and wet to my door sweetheart, gotta do something about it. Can't have desperate sluts like you lookin' at me all the time without repercussions."

At his words you tense.

"Hm? Is that what you are?" he's whispering to you now. "S'not enough that I'm giving you your daddy's pills, is it? You need me to give you more."

You nod. You need fucking more, anything more.

"Take the rest of this off. Y'know I like lookin'." He pings the waistband of your panties against your hip, the elastic sharp against your cold skin.

He could complain as much as he liked about you watching him walk down the street, but the way you looked at him in those moments would never compare to the way he looked at you now. You liked him looking.

You quickly tug your panties down your legs, wobbling as you stand upright. You reach a hand out to him to steady yourself, not wanting the humiliation of falling on your ass in front of him and desperate to feel his skin under your fingertips again. His hand reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can make contact.

His thumb brushes across the inside of your wrist. Your heart is hammering and he must be able to feel the thrum of your pulse beneath the thin skin of your wrist. Air huffs from his nose, a single dry laugh coming from him.

"You're wet already, ain't you? I can tell, sweetheart. Always been able to tell." Then he strokes a single thick finger over your body - across your arms, over the swell of your breast, down the valley between your tits, across your belly, stopping at your mound and pulling away.

"Let's get you what you need then, huh," he tucks hair behind your ear, never letting go of your wrist with the other. He's already tugging you to his bedroom when you nod, closing the door to keep in the warmth.

He drops your wrist, telling you to make yourself comfortable as he moves to the window, closing the curtains, keeping yet more heat in.

You climb onto his bed, scooting yourself up and sitting yourself by his pillows, watching his every move.

"It's been a while since I got a proper look at that cunt," he says as he turns around to approach his dresser.

You spread your legs for him instantly, no shame and no heat in your cheeks as your thighs fall flat to the bed, spread so wide the stretch in your hips is almost painful.

He laughs at you, shaking his head and muttering under his breath as he pulls his belt from its loops, placing it onto the dresser before popping open the top button on his pants. You're still staring at his crotch, willing the zipper down with your mind, when he's crawling on his knees toward you, a rough hand smoothing up your calf as he goes.

With no warning, hands clamp around your ankles and you're being yanked down toward him, slipping down the bed and back hitting the mattress with a thud, knocking the air from you.

Joel lets out a deep breath, moving closer to you, massaging your thighs in both of his hands, squeezing the meat of them and dragging thick fingers across your flesh over and over until his fingers meet at the crease of your thigh.

"Jus' look at her," he breathes, eyes transfixed on your cunt. You roll your hips, pulling a smile across his face as he tuts at you. "So desperate."

You nod, trying to hold back a slew of begging as his hands run across your thighs and finally - fucking finally - pull you apart and start stroking your lips, spreading slick over your pussy with one thick finger.

"Barely even touched any of this yet," he says tickling your clit with his index finger before dragging back down through the wetness of your cunt, "and just look at you. You're a fuckin' mess."

You wiggle at the touch of his finger, shifting your thighs to ease the stretch in your hips, and he's holding you down with both hands, staring at you with a stern look.

"I know you want me to spank your pussy again sweetheart, but keep 'em open, lemme see the mess you made."

You moan at the mention of it, tempted to let your legs twitch closed to feel the clap of his hand on your cunt.

"If you're good I'll spank your pussy another time," he smirks as he says it, but you hope he means it.

"I'll be good," you promise in a whisper, watching as his eyebrows raise at your words, shaking his head.

He covers your bared cunt with his hand rubbing softly, gently jerking the nub of your clit between his fingers before spreading them and ducking his head down to swipe his tongue where your clit peaks out from between his fingers. "We'll see how good you are."

His hand drags down you, two fingers stroking your empty hole before pushing in smoothly in one movement. Your cunt is so slick there's no resistance, and Joel notices.

"So easy," he taunts, looking down to where his fingers push into you. "You been keepin' her stuffed at home?"

You had. You couldn't lie. Tess's fingers had felt so good in you, you often stuffed three of your own into yourself and pretended they were hers. You look at him and nod, watching as a soft Fuck falls from his lips. He pushes his fingers down inside you, stretching your hole open as he massages from side to side. The deep pull makes you groan.

You feel his teeth graze your clit, making you buck into his hand just as he's pulling his fingers from you and replacing them with three, sliding them in and flexing them inside of you. He licks at you once more before sitting back on his haunches, watching your hole grip tightly around his fingers.

"My dick not been enough for you?" he suddenly asks, pulling down his zipper and tugging at his pants to free his cock.

You start to shake your head. "It is I-"

"Don't lie to me," he cuts you off, distracting you with the increased movement of his fingers in and out of your hole as he suckles your clit back into his mouth. He releases with a wet pop, giving your cunt a broad lick, sitting back once again. You watch him tug on his cock, fingers still buried in you, thighs still spread and pussy dripping.

He's reaching now, over the side of the bed, fingers keeping a slow pace inside you, the slow drag of them stretching your walls as he flexes and swirls them in you. You hear a familiar snick and look down to see a bottle just as a cold trickle of oil hits your clit, drizzling down to fingers spread into your pussy, funneling it in. He removes them, rubbing broadly over your entire mound with his hand, smearing oil everywhere. You don't think about how fucking long it'll take to wash off this time, you just think of how wet he's making you, staring burning heat straight into your core as he massages your oiled cunt with his heavy hand. You were already a slip and slide, but now you're impossibly wet, cunt and inner thighs shining with oil and your own slick.

His fingers push back into you, the stretch move obvious than before, when you realize four of his thick fingers are seated in you.

"Good girl," he says as you moan, feeling so stretched but not full enough, you want him deeper, you want more. "Your own fingers feel as good as this?"

"Not even close," you say around another moan. Of course they fucking didn't. You wondered if he ever thought about what you did to yourself in the dark of night, what you did the chase the feelings you'd only been able to get in his apartment. You wonder if he ever touched himself to thoughts of you too.

"That's cause a needy pussy like this needs more than your little fingers."

You nod. He'd never said anything more true - you needed more.

"I'll give you more, sweetheart."

A wicked smile pulls at his lips, sending a thrill through you. You'd stopped expecting anything of your visits to the nice apartment on the other side of the QZ, leaving your fate up to Joel entirely the minute you stepped through the door. You could trust him, in some sick twisted way. Somehow, he'd never showed you reason not to.

His fingers push in, curling and squelching inside you as he fucks you with them. A calloused thumb finds your clit, rubbing slick oil across the bared surface of it, making you squirm, throwing your head back as you plead with him.

"That too much?" You shake your head. "Didn't think so. It ain't enough, is it?" You say nothing, just whine through the wet sound if your pussy being fucked by four of his fingers.

There's more pressure, a deeper push of his hand, the ridge of his knuckles stretching and burning the entrance of your pussy as he pushes. The feeling startles you, and you shoot up onto your elbows.

"Wait," you gasp, "What-uhhh."

"Shhh," he says, pushing a hand down onto your lower belly to keep you still.

His slicked thumb never stops circling your clit just as the widest part of his knuckles breach you - he can feel a jerk of movement as the rock of your hips into his palm, desperate to take more of him in, is stopped by the weight of his hand on your belly.

"Fuck, that's it sweetheart. You can take it, just a little more." His words, as always, generate a surge of wetness from you, and with that his four fingers slip into you past the solid ridge of his knuckles and down to the palm of his hand. The only thing stopping him from slipping into you completely is the jut of his thumb.

You pant and still, willing yourself to relax, but instead whine with the immense fullness in your cunt. The length of Joel's cock had prepared you for intrusions battering your cervix, but his impressive girth was nothing compared to the width of his hand.

"Oh I know, I know, that's so much ain't it. So much for this little pussy." He teases a finger around the swollen skin of your hole as he admires the look of his fingers buried in your cunt.

He places a gentle kiss onto your clit, the gentlest he's ever been with you. "Doin' so good for me." He kitten licks the sensitive nub, distracting you from the stretch in your cunt, and before you know it you're liquid beneath him again, writhing on his bed and moaning his name as you get teased closer to the edge once again.

"So good. Reckon you can take it all, sweetheart." He had a knack for asking questions that were never really questions.

"N-no, I can't, it's too much," you beg, his fingers still wedged deep inside you. "This feels good, I promise."

He begins to move his hand, flexing his fingers at first, before twisting his palm this way and that. You stare, mesmerized between your legs as the opening of your cunt stretches across his twisted palm.

"S'not gonna be too much. You'll like it, I promise. Look," he pulls his four fingers from you, the burn so much less this time, and you feel yourself stretch over the bones of his knuckles again before the pressure releases and you're left totally empty.

You whine with the loss.

"She just wants to be filled up. She's gapin' and empty right now, sweetheart. She needs it." He kisses your clit again, holding you open with thumbs that you feel slip inside of you and tug you apart.

He plunges four fingers into you again, drawing them together as much as he can as he fucks you past his knuckles again in one movement, aided by the slick of oil that's now dribbling out of you and making a mess on his sheets. You only just feel his knuckles pop inside you before they're pulling out again, the sensation making you feel weak as you let your arms fall and drop back onto his bed once more.

When he goes to push back in, his thick thumb joins his fingers. You feel it as his knuckles approach your cunt, the stretch even more this time.

"Wait, no I can't do it," the words tumble from your mouth in a panic. You're gripping his sheets, trying not to slam your legs closed at the intrusion of most of his fist seated inside you.

"Yeah you can, you can take it. You wanted more. Remember how empty it feels?"

You nod. You remembered, you felt so fucking empty without him inside you.

A slick hand smooths up your thigh, calming you. "Then lie back and close your eyes, sweetheart. Greedy girls gotta get their pussies stuffed."

The hand never stops caressing your thighs, dragging oil slicked fingers up and down your skin, turning you to putty with each stroke. By the time he's pushing in again, your legs are pinned back, spread obscenely, just for him, as your pussy stretches wide over his fingers.

His hand stills on the apex of your thighs, holding you down, stopping your hips from moving as he tries to seat his entire fist in your desperate cunt. You start to whine when his knuckles pull at your entrance, the sting of the stretch stronger again now.

"You can take it, you can take it," he murmurs, spurring you on.

You breathe deeply, uncontrollable whines falling from your mouth, the stretch is so much you feel like you might burst. You take a deep shuddering breath to steady yourself, and as you breath out Joel pushes his fist in harder, any resistance giving way to his force.

The sound he tears from you as he pushes his fist fully into your pussy is animalistic, guttural. It roars from you and he continues to fuck his fist into you until your hole is clamped down on the thickness of his wrist. You throw your head back and reach for him, fingers touching his where they rest on your leg and you grab onto them.

"Fuck yeah, that's it. That's fuckin' it." He lets you grip his fingers, still moaning as the blood pounds in your ears.

He's smiling up at you, almost laughing, when you next look down.

"Got my whole fuckin' hand in your pussy sweetheart. Hole is so stuffed and stretched out now."

His cock had been a stretch at one time. You were usually so wet that it parted you easily, but you could still feel that ache inside you as you gave way to him. This was new. Even rock hard and standing to attention, his cock had a softness to it. His hand did not. Calloused palms, rough fingers and bone did not yield or give way. The ridges of his fist felt foreign inside your cunt, and yet part of you still wanted to ask for more.

One breath, then another, and another, and your fingers are relaxing their death grip on his own. He twists his hand inside you from side to side just a fraction. Feeling so much moving and writhing inside you feels strange, but the fullness in your cunt and the depth of his hand have you moaning again, throwing your head to the side.

"That good?"

"Yeah, 'sgood," you whine.

His hand twists more, the ridge of his knuckles dragging on your inner walls.

"Ohhhhhh."

"Oh fuck, that's it," he says, pulling his fingers away from your grip and finally letting go of your hips.

You hear the wet sound of his oiled hand on his cock as he strokes himself, gripping his tip tightly and jerking it slowly at the sight of his hand buried in your cunt. Your pussy pulses around his fist as you watch his thumb swipe at a bead of cum about to drip off the tip of his cock and onto his pants to join a wet patch forming there. For all the mess you were making, it seemed he was making plenty of his own.

"Sit up now, want you to watch," he's saying, letting go of his cock and stroking around your stretched hole, dragging more wetness up to your clit.

Joel moves his fist, twisting this way and that, before dragging it back from you. His hand barely releases from your cunt, the edge of you stretching over the lowest part of his palm, before plunging back in. His eyes are locked on your pussy, watching his fist gently fuck into you. You groan at the sight, at the feeling.

"That feels good, huh?"

"Yeah," you whine. "I wanna cry," you're suddenly saying, because it's true, it's so much, so good, that you want to do nothing more than sob.

"That's because you've been so desperate for it, sweetheart," he says, stroking your clit more firmly now as his hand continues its movement in and out of you, barely breaching you before punching in a little further each time. You can see your lower belly bulge and move with each movement of his fist.

"Please," you're begging again. "It's so much. It's too much." You could be begging him to stop, for more, to come, to take it out, you don't know.

"S'too much for your needy little pussy, I know, but I ain't takin' it out 'til you come on it."

"Oh, fuck."

You almost come there and then, but then he's lowering his face back to your pussy, replacing the roll of his fingers with the lick of his tongue.

You start to garble, a blurred mess of words falling from your mouth. You have no clue what you're saying, you just know that you can't stop, can't do anything but focus on the whole fist fucking into your cunt, stuffing you full as he suckles your clit so delicately.

"Stretching you out, no one's gonna wanna use you after this. Goin' to ruin this pretty pussy."

You start begging again. "Please, please ruin me. Ruin my pussy. Please, please." You feel him smile into you clit and you know you're done for.

He latches fully onto you, sucking hard as he flicks his tongue over and over. His hand punches in harder, faster, fucking you and filling you more than anything before. Your insides feel like they're being shifted with each thrust of his fist, your womb jerked forward and back. You're so near, so close and then the hand on your thigh pushes on your belly, feeling each deep punch of his fist as he bottoms out.

The pressure builds and explodes almost instantly, your whole pussy clenching down on his fist, drawing him in with each pulse of your orgasm. Your hips rock, thighs try to clamp shut around his entire body as you scream - scream - into the cavern of his bedroom. He doesn't stop, doesn't relent, fucking his hand into you deeper and deeper as you come undone beneath him.

Only when you stop writhing and your back falls flat against the bed does Joel stop, disengaging from your clit with one final pop, stilling his hand inside you.

He watches as you come down, glassy eyes staring into space as you sigh in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm of your life.

"Was that enough?" he asks you as he kisses along your mound. You're shaking your head before you even realize what you're doing.

"Such a needy hole that even stuffed full of my hand it ain't enough?"

You moan, shaking your head. No. It's not enough. It feels so much, so full, stuffed to the brim, but it's not enough.

"Oh fuck, 'course it's not enough for you, sweetheart. Look how fuckin' greedy she is. You want more fingers?"

"No, no," your head is filled with as much clarity as delirium. You don't know where you are but you know exactly what you want, what you need.

"But you need more, sweetheart," he taunts, pushing his fist into you more.

"Hnnnng. Your cock," you gasp out. "Please. Your cock. I need your cock."

"Not sure you're even gonna be able to feel it after this, but I knew I'd have you beggin' for it sooner or later."

He's tugging his hand from you, gently pulling his entire fist out of your body as you bear down and groan with the pressure. It releases with a wet squelch and you watch as he immediately places it over your mound and lower stomach.

"All of that was in there," he says, almost in disbelief. He looks down at your pussy, still gaping. Thick fingers drag back down, past your over sensitized clit and around your hole, watching as you bring yourself together.

He moves closer to you, moving his slicked hand from your body to his own, covering his length with it as his palm slips over himself with ease, massaging his balls before teasing his tip. It's so angry and red now, desperate for some kind of relief, relief you want to give him.

"If you want it that bad, you're gonna have to put it in."

You grab at him, his cock looking huge in your hand. You line him up, dragging his glistening head through your folds before pushing him to your entrance. You roll your hips, feeling the ridge of him drag across your hole before you rock against him, letting the tip of him breach you. You feel your stretched walls pull around him, letting him in, wanting to swallow him whole.

"That's it sweetheart, you put it in," Joel coos, stroking your thighs as your rock yourself onto his tip. He starts to rock his hips with you, plunging his cock into your further as your hand still grips him.

You want to reach out and touch him. Run your hands across the planes of his body, feel how his muscles stretch and contract with every movement. You're still instead, holding his cock as he fucks it inside you.

"Let go now, let me all the way in." You let go of him, gripping your own thigh instead of pulling him toward you like you so desperately want, and he's bottoming out inside you with a deep groan. His cock retreats almost all the way before plunging back in to the hilt again, and you gasp when his tip collides with your cervix.

He watches your face as he bottoms out each time, eyes locked with yours. You feel so close to him, he's so near, you could just reach out and touch him, hold him to you, kiss him.

Before you know it, the world is spinning. He's pulled out of you and flipped you onto your front, laying you flat on his bed. He pulls your ass cheeks apart, notches himself back at your abused hole and pushes in with one easy movement. You grip the sheets, stifling your gasp into his pillow before he's yanking it away from you.

"Nuh-uh, lemme hear those pretty noises. Sound so good when you're moaning on my cock."

You let him hear you, not holding back a single moan as he fucks into you from behind, his weight heavy on your legs. His body falls forward, and he's threading strong arms under your body, hooking them over your shoulders. He holds you tight, the closest thing to a hug you've ever felt from him, as he pulls you down onto him with every thrust.

You're about to turn your head, turn so you can see him, so he can run his nose along your cheek, but a hand grabs your hair, yanking your head back as he slams his hips down into yours.

"Fuck," he gasps into your ear. "Can you even feel that? Can you even feel my cock?" You can feel every part, every ridge dragging across your insides in ways you've never felt from anyone before. You nod your head, hair tugged in his grip as you move.

"Oh fuck yeah, had my whole fucking fist in you but you're still clenching around my dick."

Your mind is blank, you feel dumb from his cock and his fist, fucked out whilst still being fucked. The best you can do is moan out a garbled "yeah" before going back to unintelligible babbling and moans.

"Good girl. Always takin' it all so well. This pretty pussy'll take anythin' I give her, won't she?" he whispers to you, like it's some kind of secret and not the most obvious thing in the world. He nuzzles your hair - he nuzzles your fucking hair - and you're soaring, floating above the clouds on a high you will never come down from.

"Joel, fuuuck."

He's all around you, warm breath on your face, grunts straight into your ear, the sweat of his chest slick on your back, his broad hands anchoring him down to you. You feel his whole body start to tense, shaking and quivering. His hips stutter, slamming into you hard once, twice more before he groans deep, burying his head in your neck.

His weight relaxes on top of you, pushing all air out of your lungs, but he's gone again before you start to struggle for breath, pulling his cock from your used hole. He spreads you, looking down at your pussy, pink and swollen from being so used, first by his fist and then by his cock. Cum dribbles out of you, down to your clit, and he takes his softening cock, swiping it up your folds and to your ass, squeezing out the last dribbles of his cum and wiping his tip on your ass cheek.

You lie still, hoping he'll lie next to you for a while, but his weight leaves the bed and there's the rustle of his jeans as he pulls them on. Before you can even turn around he's opened the door and left you alone, still dripping his cum.

You flop back down, face into his pillows, mind reeling. He'd been so close, felt so near. You could've reached out and touched him, grabbed him, but you didn't. And then the moment was gone. Every time you got near to something, it was gone before you could make up your mind. You were so frustrated you could scream.

Instead, you bury your head into his pillow and breathe deep, calming yourself.

The bed shifts again soon after. You didn't hear him come back in, but Joel's rough hands are lifting your legs and pulling the fabric of your panties up to your knees before he climbs on top of you and yanks them up the rest of the way. He massages your ass in his hands, smearing the remnants of his cum into your panties with the action before climbing off of you.

"You gotta go," he says, simply.

You turn round immediately, panties crooked and not quite covering your pussy. You scramble for an excuse, a reason to stay.

"What if my clothes are still wet." You want more time. You want to stay longer, cocooned in the warmth of this room. Maybe if you stay longer you'll get to feel the weight of him on top of you again.

"It's still rainin' outside so they'll be wet when you get home anyway," he doesn't look at you as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. "Pills are on the table."

And he's stalking out of the room again. You see him flop down onto the couch and pick up a book, as if nothing had even happened, as if the hand holding the pages open hadn't just been buried in you.

There's a chill in the room as you stand. Your clothes are still wet as you put them on. The pills burn your hand as you pocket them, wanting to do nothing more than throw them back at him. If they were for you, you would.

He doesn't walk you to the door, doesn't see you out. You unlatch it and twist the handle yourself, pulling it open and stepping through.

"You gotta stop lookin' at me so much," he calls out as you go to leave. "Not gonna protect you if some asshole thinks you're one of mine."

You don't turn to look at him, you just leave, slamming the door behind you as you make to walk home in the rain.

You didn't even want him to kiss you anyway.

next part

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