#woof... if this is too dark for you then let me know i can write something different! no worries!

[someotherdog]

@mutatedangels / the hitcher for blair & the muse of your choice! / a non-satanist verse for blair, he's a hitchhiking serial killer that's just been picked up by your muse (for whichever reason you decide). could be set in the eighties for extra fun, but not a requirement.

whoops! turns out when you murder people all over town, you might just get caught. that was the only reason blair was even wandering the southern highways. he made it out of his hometown of robichaux, louisiana by the skin of his teeth, so close to being arrested. luckily, small town sheriffs were stupid pretty much all across the board. so he went from one town to the next, hitchhiking along quiet state routes, and tried to indulge in his hobby as often as possible. sitting in the passenger seat of the stranger's car, blair held the most polite, gentlemanly smile possible—he had a lot of practice, twenty-seven years of being a good ol' boy before he finally learned the joys of death. it was all so easy for him. it sometimes took awhile, but inevitably, someone would give him a ride.

"i really do appreciate, y'know. so many people drove right on by and didn't even give me a glance." blair appeared truly grateful, and he was in his own way. his right hand was in his jeans' pocket, fingering the handle of his switchblade, twitching with anticipation. he knew he didn't look like much, but he was strong. and quick. the act of murder was so kinetic and exhausting but blair could do it forever. that's why he liked to tempt fate. it had been months since he started, and they never even came close to catching him since he left robichaux. kind of boring, honestly. blair became sloppier with each kill because he thought he was a god. the lack of capture proved it to him. even his victims weren't much of a challenge. he started out with the weak, then advanced to stronger prey. he started in the shadows, then became more blatant. he still liked the weak and the shadows, but they just tided him over. "i guess most people wouldn't take the risk of pickin' up a stranger, eh?"

even though he was able to keep up small talk for longer than he cared to, his patience was running thin. he retained his smile as he brought the knife out of his pocket. the blade flipped out. he was still smiling. "guess you ain't too smart then." quickly, he pressed the blade against their neck and used his other hand to press onto their knee, forcing their foot onto the gas with his ironlike grip. "now, don't try nothin'. this ain't my first rodeo, y'know? don't try to drive the car off the road or push me out the door. don't speed to get the attention of some police cruiser. those are old tricks and i'm bored of 'em, you understand? say you understand."

[ortegavi]

MAMA’S BOY ━ pedri gonzález

↳ PAIRING pedri gonzález x fem!reader ↳ SUMMARY in which nilo prefers you over pedri ↳ GENRE fluff (0.6K words)

YOU KNEW THERE was something different before you even entered your apartment. You could hear your boyfriend’s loud voice from the other side of the door. Normally you’d assume Pedri was just playing FIFA, but if he was you knew he’d be yelling swears at the TV instead of speaking excitedly, like he currently was.

You unlocked the door and curiously stepped inside, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion even more when Pedri didn’t immediately rush to the door the moment you entered. You could still hear his voice coming from inside your bedroom. “See, she’s here, you’ll love her, Nilo—wait, Nilo!”

You heard footsteps barreling down the hall and into the living room, but instead of your boyfriend, it was a black lightning streak darting towards you and circling around your legs. Then the black streak looked up at you with the most adorable dark eyes you’d ever seen, and let out an excited, “Woof!”

“You got a puppy?!” you giggled as Pedri came running after the puppy a moment later. You bent down to pick up the still-barking puppy and then stood up, cradling him in your arms like a newborn child. He let out a happy yip in your embrace.

“Sí, isn’t he cute?” Pedri grinned as you gently rocked him. “I called him Nilo, what do you think?”

“Suits him,” you nodded, then set the Labrador into Pedri’s arms—or, at least, tried to. As soon as he realized he was being moved, he let out a loud whine, and when he was safely deposited into your boyfriend’s hold, Nilo swiped at the air with his paws and looked at you with (literal) puppy eyes.

“What? Don’t you like me?” Pedri asked, sounding highly offended as Nilo barked out what almost sounded like a no in dog language. You laughed as the puppy tried to jump out of Pedri’s arms until he finally set him down—and of course, Nilo ran to your feet the moment he was free.

“Looks like Nilo has a preference,” you grinned cheekily.

“It’s probably just because he only met you today, but he’s already known me since yesterday. Right, boy?” Pedri held out his hand for Nilo to sniff, but he only barked and looked up at you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth happily.

Unfortunately for Pedri, Nilo seemed to have completely forgotten about him and latched onto you instead, following you at every possible moment. More than once, you had woken up to a black Labrador cuddled up against you instead of your boyfriend. He began to jokingly complain that his girlfriend was being stolen from him, and you just grinned and said that Nilo was a handsome dog anyways (which only fueled Pedri to become much more affectionate with you and to throw all his money into collecting dog toys).

“See, he loves us equally,” your boyfriend was finally able to proclaim. After weeks of spoiling Nilo with different varieties of dog treats and toys, the puppy had finally allowed Pedri to hug him without trying to squirm away from his grasp. You had literally gotten the same result and more the moment you had met the Lab, but Pedri’s grin was too bright for you to ruin the moment with that fact.

So instead, you sat down across from him. “But you do love me and him equally, right?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Pedri paused, pretending to think. “He is a pretty handsome dog anyways.”

You gasped in offense as he used your exact own words against you, and did it with that cheeky smile too. “But can he do this?” you asked, leaning over where Nilo was in his lap to kiss Pedri soundly.

“...no, I suppose he can’t.”

↳ AUTHOR’S NOTE guess who made a comeback to writing 🤭

[puppyslutposting]

Every time I'm in heat and going to sleep for the night I always have the same fantasy, so I decided to write it out into a fully-fleshed story. Hope you guys love this one! Woof woof! <3

I'm in bed, completely exhausted. It's been a long day, and I can't remember if I even locked the door when I came home but I don't really care. As soon as I got home, I threw my bag down, ran to my room, stripped naked, and jumped into bed. And now that I'm in bed, there's no force on earth that could get me to get up. My heat is annoying the fuck out of me, but I just can't masturbate tonight.

"Maybe I can just sleep it off..." I think to myself as I drift into peaceful slumber, eventually softly snoring. I didn't even get the chance to cover myself with my blanket before I passed out, so I'm laying completely exposed. Not that it matters in the comfort of my own home, right?

-But less than an hour later, I'm stirred awake by the sounds of footsteps and creaking floorboards. At first, I try brushing it off as an overactive imagination, but then I hear them approaching my bedroom door. I panic, not knowing if my mind is playing tricks on me anymore.

"I-is there someone there?" I cry out, shakily. I hear the footsteps stop outside of my bedroom door. Chills run up my spine as I can see the shadows of someone's feet stretching under the door. And then, the door slowly creaks open.

A tall, lumbering dogboy looms in the doorway, his eyes shining in the darkness of my room. He's sniffing the air wildly, until he turns to me and we lock eyes. I'm too stunned to speak, trembling slightly as I hold the blanket over my exposed body.

He slowly lumbers towards me, the floorboards creaking with every step. I back up in my bed until my exposed back hits the cold wall, causing me to quietly gasp in surprise. He's at my bed now, and he crawls onto the bed and towards me on all fours. He's looming over me now, pinning me underneath him. I can feel his warm breath on my face- and that when it hits me.

He smells... Absolutely divine. The more his breath and musk fills my nostrils, the dizzier I get. I finally realized why he's probably here- he's most definitely in rut, and I'm in heat.

"He could probably smell me through the open window in my bedroom," I think to myself. "I knew I should have shut it before going to sleep." But it's too late now. He's here and he's got me right where he wants me.

He buries his nose into my neck, inhaling my scent deeply. He moves his face slowly around my body; my chest, my armpits, my tummy, my thighs, and then slowly up my thighs, landing at my crotch. I moan quietly as he pushes his face against my warm pussy over the blanket. He growls softly in return, before grabbing the blanket in his teeth and ripping it off of me, throwing it haphazardly across the room. I squeak, intimidated by his brute strength.

He pushes his face between my thighs again, and this time I let out a loud moan. I can't help it, my sensitivity is through the roof with this crazy heat, this is definitely the worst it's ever been. His nose bumps my t-dick as he huffs my sweet scent, losing himself in the pheromonal musk of my heat.

And then, he starts licking. Lapping up my love juices like a dog who just found water in the desert. Running his big, flat tongue over my whole vulva with every lick, lubing me up even more with his slippery saliva. I'm moaning and whimpering like crazy now, and I rest my hand on the back of his head instinctively. I'm so dizzy and lightheaded from the pleasure, I don't even feel his claws digging into my thigh until they break the skin and draw blood.

I yelp in pain and flinch, which causes him to come up for air and look at me curiously. He tilts his head to the side, staring me in the eyes, before suddenly realizing what he's done. He jerks his hand away and whines, before finally speaking for the first time.

"Fuck, I'm sorry!... I'm so sorry... I don't know what came over me..." He whimpers deeply, his voice fading as he slowly leans into my bleeding thigh. Without warning, he runs his tongue over the wound slowly. He's clearly back into his rut-fueled trance as he licks up my blood sensually. Once he's had enough, he lifts his head and locks eyes with me once more.

He stares intensely at me, and I can't help but to be even more aroused as I notice a bit of blood smeared on the corner of his mouth. He must notice me staring at it, because he lifts his hand and wipes it away with a long, drawn out swipe. And then, he smirks before pushing me down onto the bed roughly.

In a flash, he's pushing his hips against mine, dry humping my bare boycunt. I can feel how absolutely rock hard and throbbing he is through his jeans and it's driving me crazy. I can't believe how badly I want this random stranger, who broke into my house, inside of me. No, I NEED him. My body craves to be bred by this random dogboy, needs to carry his litter.

I don't even notice myself reaching for his pants and pulling them down, but he certainly does. He grunts down at me needily and starts humping the air, inches away from my leaky cunt, as I finally pull down his boxers. His cock springs out and slaps against my soaking pussy with a very audible smack, sending a shockwave of pleasure up my entire body.

Before I know it, he's in me, rutting into me HARD. He's grunting and moaning with every strong thrust, acting completely on animalistic desire. His eyes are glazed over with feral lust as he stares down at my face, drool dripping from his open maw. I moan and gasp with every deep thrust as he kisses my cervix. I can't control myself any longer, and I start crying out "Breed me, please! Please!! God I need it, I need you! PleasepleasepleasePLEASE!!~"

Hearing this, he leans down and bites my shoulder hard, his sharp canines digging into my soft flesh and holding me down while he ravages my body. My entrance is getting sore now from his knot slamming it again and again, threatening to pop in with every thrust. I can feel him start to twitch hard inside of me, and realize that he must be close. I wrap my legs around his lower back, as if to signal to him that there's no way in hell I would want him to pull out. Not that he would, at this rate. I can tell his desire to breed is just as strong- if not stronger- than my own.

He growls and snarls into my shoulder as he starts trying to push his knot in, but he's struggling. It's torture for me- I feel like I need his knot in me so badly, but i'm just too tight. I whine and whimper and try pulling him in with my legs, but it's no use. I whimper "It won't fit... It's too big..." Quietly to him, but it's like he doesn't even hear me. He just starts slamming against me harder, causing me slight pain not only on my entrance but also my insides as he bruises my sensitive cervix.

And then, out of the blue, he slowly pushes his hips into mine with all of his might, and my entrance stretches around his fat knot until it pops in. I can feel the bulbous girth throbbing hard inside of me, and he finally starts cumming directly into my womb. He pants and howls loudly, like a wild animal triumphantly celebrating a successful catch. Meanwhile, my eyes roll back into my head as I moan deeply. The satisfaction from being so full is insane, it feels like I'm finally being used for my intended purpose. I feel high from the warmth of his seed shooting deep into me, causing my tummy to bulge and ache slightly. He cums so much that some even manages to spurt past his knot, which is miraculous considering how perfectly it seals my cunt.

I already know i'm going to end up impregnated by this stranger- but I don't care. I almost feel more satisfied in knowing that I'm going to grow his litter for him, and it feels like I've done a good job. I can't help but to wag my tail thinking about how cute I'm going to look with a bulbous, pregnant tummy and swollen breasts. Maybe it's just the heat talking, but I'm suddenly thinking i'd make a good puppy parent after all...

Once he's caught his breath and calmed down a bit, the stranger starts trying to pull out. The pain is intense, and I whine and try to stop him with my legs. Eventually, he realizes its just not happening, and he lets out a frustrated huff before pulling me onto my side so that he can lay down while we're locked together. He looks me into the eyes once again, this time looking more sincere, and almost loving. Then, he covers my face in slobbery puppy kisses. Normally, I would be grossed out by this, but I'm feeling so euphoric that I can't help but to giggle.

His kisses slowly get less and less enthusiastic, and I notice his eyelids getting heavy. I'm not surprised- if I rutted into somebody as hard as he did me, I'd probably be passed out by now. It seems like he's trying to fight sleep just to keep staring into my eyes, which makes me smile and blush bashfully. And then, finally, he drifts off to sleep, snoring softly and peacefully. His knot still hasn't deflated, so I figure I should probably do the same. Not like there's anything better to do, anyhow. I wrap my arms around this strange, but wonderful pup and slowly drift off, holding him in my arms. Dreaming about how adorable our puppies are going to be, all night long.~

[enmuswife3]

Maybe its a Blessing in Disguise

Jacob x werewolf!Reader

reader moves from LA to Forks in order to reconnect with her old family friend Bella Swan and meets Jacob.

Reader is slightly Afro Latina coded I haven’t rlly said anything about reader’s hair tho so maybe just Latina, also speaks Spanish and incorporates it into random sentences but only if she knows the other person can understand it, reader wears a black juicy tracksuit and chunky sandals bc I said so Jacob does not know that reader is a werewolf reader and is in a pack ill add more as i write

Bruh he is SO FOINE GRRRR BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF WOOF

I yawned as I drove to my best friend's house after hearing that her pasty-faced boyfriend had broken up with her. “Bells! vine tan pronto como pude!” I said barging into the house and the young girl's room. I walked in and saw her crying in her bed “Okay pause those sheets are so tacky what the hell” I said carefully sitting down and taking her in my arms letting her cry into my velvety tracksuit. “let's get you better amor” i said kissing the top of her head and helping her stand up. I got her into the shower, washed her face, and put her back to bed as it was already 10:00.

I woke her up bright and early and got her into the bathroom to do something to her face and hair you know to bring that Arizonan girl out and honestly, it worked wonderfully. I put on another tracksuit this time it's dark green and I give Bella a matching one “Tan guapa” I complimented her smiling softly seeing her face turn red alright let go I say grabbing my keys “Wait you driving?” Bella asked “yea silly it’s a sports car though so prepárate,” I said stepping outside and unlocking my Dodge Charger and turning it on making the engine rev like crazy. I smiled as I headed towards the school that I recently enrolled in.

I pulled into a parking spot seeing all the different people including some of Bella’s acquaintances that she showed me a picture of. I stepped out of the car looking around seeing her pasty faced ex-boyfriend through my shades looking right at me, I smirked slightly walking over and opening the door for Bella and helping her out. I chuckled seeing her stumble due to me going 30 over the speed limit. She put her arm around my waist covering up my back tattoo i did the same as we walked through the parking lot ignoring the stares. Thankfully i was able to get all of my classes with Bella so we walked to class together.

Time Skip

It was the end of the day and me and Bella were walking outside and to my car just to find a bunch of random people standing around my car “watch this” i snickered as i pressed the automatic on button and watched as the people jumped and yelped by me turning on the car. I open the door and get in and so does Bella i peered into the mirror seeing the Cullens staring at my car “they stare a whole lot” i said raising my eyebrows. I drove out of the parking lot “ hey can you take me to this place my friend wants to hang out” Bella said “sure”.

We made it to this guy named Billy’s house and when you pulled up several shirtless dudes where sitting on the front deck. I got out and immediately smelled like there were other werewolves and i guess they could smell me too because they immediately turned in my direction. “Guys this is y/n l/n” Bella hesitantly introduced me i smiled politely at the boys “well I’m Seth that’s Quill, Embry, and Jacob” the boy said smiling sweetly “n/n wanna come with us to La Push there’s gonna be a bonfire” Bella asked “uh sure i wont stay too long though a bitch needs her sleep or we wont make it to school tomorrow” i laughed “ well I’m gonna go home i need a shower” i sighed pressing the automatic button on my car key turning up the car making the engine rev. I walked to my car “you stayin’ right?” I looked at Bella as i opened the door, she nodded a few times and i got in my car and sped off.

Bella’s POV

I watched as my friend sped away in her car “soo where’s she from? I know she wasn’t born here” Quil asked “Yeah she’s from LA” I responded as I sat down next to Jacob “What’s LA?” Jacob asked with a raised eyebrow “LA stands for Los Angeles it's in California” I said leaning back and pulling out my phone to text y/n the time she can come back and where. Jacob leaned his head to the side to see what I was doing “So this y/n girl…is she single?” Quil asked as he leaned back in his chair licking his lips “Surprisingly yes” I said “Honestly I don’t even know how or why she’s single I guess the boys in California didn’t catch her attention” I shrugged.

“Are you all ready? And do we have everything we need?” Jacob called out as he finished loading the supplies into his truck “Yeah we’re ready” I called out getting into the passenger seat and the other boys got into the back seat. I dialed y/n’s number and waited for her to answer” Hello?” She answered, “Hey we’re on our way to La Push where are you now?” “Umm I’m at a shopping center right now getting Auntie Annie’s” she answered “Oooh get me a pretzel please,” I asked “ está bien I’m about to leave now no estoy muy lejos” “Okay bye” “Peace”. I hung up the phone “Was she speaking Spanish?” Seth asked “yea it’s her first language” I said looking out the window as the trees turned into cliffs and this cliff turned into the beach. It was slightly crowded but I wasn’t bothered by that. The bonfire was set up and I was waiting patiently for y/n to come with my delicious pretzel.

Y/n’s POV

I pulled into the parking lot and looked around before I got out holding Bella’s pretzel and a lemonade in my other hand I walked towards the bonfire which was actual a long distance away so I started sipping on my frosted lemonade. The soft light of the fire grew larger as I neared I scanned for a spot to sit at and slightly tensed up seeing that the only spot open was by that Jacob guy. No I don’t hate him or anything he’s actually very attractive in fact he looks like he was sculpted by a god or something. And ohh don’t get me started on his eyes and the way his brows furrow- that’s enough rambling for one day I thought to myself. I saw Bella get up happily scurrying towards me grabbing the pretzel and taking a bite happily. “Oh um there aren’t anymore seats by me so I guess you’ll have to sit with Jay” Bella said looking around “oh okay” I said sitting down on the bench by the young boy.

Time Skip

Everyone was laughing and enjoying their time Jacob and I grew silent but I could feel his eyes on me. Bella and the 3 other boys were talking and laughing but I kind of just zoned them out by playing a random game on my phone. “So y/n how’s the weather there in California?” Jacob asked as he sat up straight “extremely hot I can say that” I laughed breathlessly “so do you like it over here more?” I grew silent for a moment looking back at Bella and the others joking around “I guess you could say that though I do miss my family” I smiled softly looking back at Jacob. I could see a slight hint of red in his cheeks but I dared not to say anything about it. “Alright y/n I’m ready to go” Bella said getting up “okay” I said getting up “it was nice meeting you all” I said softly walking over to Bella and turning around. “Yeah it was nice meeting you” Seth said as the others nodded in agreement I softly smiled and turned around to see Bella already walking off I smacked my lips jogging after her.

We had finally made it to my car and we got in and I drove away “soo Jacob huh~ think he’s cute?” Bella asked teasingly and laughed when I blushed “I think he’s really into you y/n~” she laughed “I should set you two up” I laughed nervously “I mean I wouldn’t be complaining he is cute” I said as I pulled into the driveway and got out the car. “Oh by the way me and Edward are okay now I guess but I don’t know if we’re back together yet, also prom is Friday night and I think you should come” Bella said as we walked into the house “okay but I don’t trust that pasty-face bastard, and yea we can go to prom can you come dress shopping with me?” I asked “sure”.

“Alright goodnight Bells” I yawned as I walked to my room, I laid down and called my mom as it was only 8:00 where she was “hi momma” I spoke sweetly “hi my sweet baby how is mare you doing?” My mother cooed “ah I’m alright schools pretty nice here and I love the weather” I gushed “that’s good sweetie now have you met anyone? Any boys?” My mother asked slyly. I chuckled nervously “there’s this one boy but when I first met him I got a whiff of that wet dog smell so I think he’s one of us including his friends or should I say pack” I whispered “another pack? Well I’m not surprised. You haven’t come across any of those cold ones have you?” She asked “unfortunately yes, I have and I think Bella has a relation shit with one of them” I sighed “god well if you need any help let out a howl and your siblings will be there in a bling of an eye” “I will momma, I’m going to go to sleep now okay?” “Alright love call me if you need anything alright? Bye now” I hung up the phone and placed it on my nightstand and rolled over to look at the ceiling. I waited for a few minutes just in case then I softly closed my eyes.

I was woken up by my 5:00 alarm and got up with a groan. I quickly got ready and headed downstairs just to see Bella introducing her so called “boyfriend” to Charlie “good morning Charlie!” I say walking up to the chief giving him a big hug somehow he was still taller than me “mornin’” he huffed “y/n this is Edward” Bella said “hi.uh nice to meet you” I said looking him up and down questionably. “It’s nice to meet you too I’m about to take Bella to play baseball ball with my family would you like to join?” The pale-faced man smiled “I’ll go if Bells wants me to” I stated as I turned to the girl raising my eyebrow. “Yeah you should come but take your car so I can have a ride home,” Bella said smiling “Okay. “

“Y/n, I trust that you’ll keep Bella safe and not let any harm come to her correct?” Charlie asked sternly but I could see right through him “She won’t get into any type of danger as long as I’m breathing” I said with a glint in my eyes. “She’s safe with me,” I said holding up my hands and retracted my claws smiling. Charlie nodded and walked off to get ready for work Bella and her boyfriend were already outside I sipped on some water and pressed the button to turn on my car “I’ll follow you guys or you could just tell me the location so I can speed how I’d like to” I said looking at Edward “I think it’d be best if you followed since I don’t know where we’re going” “erm okay I guess” I shrugged walking to my car.

The car ride there was pretty long but I understand what Edward meant by him not even knowing where we were going himself because there were three other cars in front of him at last we finally made it to the destination three women got out of one car and three men came out of theirs I opened my door and got out and walked next to Bella and rested my elbow on her shoulder. “Y/n this is Alice, Rosalie, and Esme” “Hi y/n I’ve seen you in the halls but I was too nervous to come up to you,” Alice said chuckling nervously “I know right? When I first met her she looked like she wanted to fight me but she’s a sweetheart really” Bella smiled “Looks like it” Rosalie said eyeing me up and down. I heard a twig snap and immediately turned my head to see who it was kind of surprising the three women.

After I was introduced to everyone the game had finally begun and I could tell that they were very serious about the game. I stood at one of the bases and looked to my side seeing Bella at another one then all of a sudden she caught the ball and threw it at me and I could see in the corner of my eye Rosalie running towards me using her super speed I caught the ball just before she could slide to the base “you're out.” I said looking down at her. She stood up immediately and let out a growl as if she were trying to scare me I raised my eyebrow tilted my head and watched her stomp away.

“Stop!” Alice yelled everyone walked to her “Someone’s coming”

Yall i was so excited writing this yall do not knowww anywho not rlly proof read i just used Grammarly to correct sum stuff so if it sounds weird it’s that😓🙏

[everettswritings]

I'd like some regressor Dark Cacao stuffs, if possible!! Hcs pls!!

Sorry for making you wait so long, have a cookie 🍪! Anyways, I never even thought about Dark Cacao Cookie as a regressor, but now I kinda love it, so thank you. (NSFW/Kink accounts DNI!)

Definitely not the most open about being little, he would prefer not to allow his vulnerabilities to show. You’d have to pry this out of him(lord knows that Affogato Cookie tried… and failed)

However, even if you do know, he doesn’t like letting you take care of him. He’s still trying to adjust to it

Regresses somewhere in the 2-5 range, but he’s generally 4-5 so he’s a little more independent.

Whenever he feels himself starting to regress, he quickly finds a way to excuse himself from the room and doesn’t come back until much later. When asked about it, he shrugs it off.

He doesn’t like to admit it, whether it’s because of his pride as a battle-hardened king or because of his values, but he prefers being surrounded by softer things when he’s little. Mostly pillows and blankets.

He kinda goes nonverbal when regressed, only saying a few words or nothing at all. He often has to point at what he wants or grab it for himself.

Not very affectionate with any caregivers at first, but slowly he starts warming up and becomes a giant cuddly lump. Good luck prying him off!

Doesn’t really play much, but will occasionally fiddle with wooden swords and the likes. He mostly prefers to just lazy around and do nothing in this state.

When it comes to cookies who do know, a guaranteed one is Caramel Arrow Cookie. That’s canon. I can say that because I’m literally the entirety of DevSis

She’s definitely an awesome caregiver, too. Now excuse me while I write those headcanons

Anyways, yeah! This was super fun to write and our favorite old gruff probably does need some littlespace after that update(woof). Hope you enjoyed! That’s all! Have a good one 🫶

[thelastofhyde]

ii. the revving of engines.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller’s not made it this far in the age of the apocalypse just to die at the hands of some adrenaline-crazed, no-brain-having fool who barely knows where to place her hands on the steering wheel. hind-sight fully intact and ever-so eye opening, he should have said no before frank could even finish his question: can you teach the girl to drive? read part one, the likeability paradox, here !!

warnings. no use of y/n ( joel’s nickname for the reader is sol ), panic attacks, perv!joel, slightly dark!joel, soft!joel ( for like a second ), a smidge of fluff, gun violence, murder, smut ( unprotected piv sex- don’t be silly, wrap that willy-, public sex, car sex but also not, exhibitionism, possessiveness, murder kink [ kinda but not really, joel just gets... more enthusiatic at the thought of protecting the reader], mentions/implications of panty stealing, male masturbation, sex as a form of payment, glory-holes, dubcon. joel has a massive c*ck because i said so <3 )

word count. 16.7k ( my dumbass really thought this would be shorter than part one- )

hyde’s input. this took criminally too long to write but i did warn you that i’m a slow writer, so hopefully this makes up for the wait. think i may be a little in over my head with this one because, woof, there’s a lot going on. i’m still trying to wrap my head around how many people enjoyed the first part, i’m speechless. thank you for every like, comment, reblog, ask that has given me the motivation to not just write a second part but to turn this into a whole series. i’m really looking forward to sharing joel and his sol’s story, and i hope i’ll be able to write it in a way that not only conveys the love i have for these two idiots in love but will also make you guys fall in love and root for them too. more to come of these two soon ( soon = whenever hyde feels like it ) &lt;3

taglist. @kayleezra , @newavenger , @luthienaliceisilra​ , @str84pedro , @baebee35 , @aheartgonewild ( if you’re crossed out, i couldn’t tag you for whatever reason ) + add yourself to the taglist here !​

read on ao3. (capitalisation available )

the journey has been one of silence.

it all begins three days prior to arriving at their destination, with a dishevelled joel startling awake. sitting himself upright, a string of grunts and groans flow from him as several new pains in his back make themselves known, one for each year he’s lived. sleeping on the couch is no place for a man of his age, but it has become his abode more frequently as of late whilst tess has let herself get acquainted with the likes of a recently widowed woman.

why on earth the two women seem to insist on occupying his and tess’ shared mattress for their sweat-provoking and sheet-tangling endeavours when the widow’s own bed now harbours one less occupant, joel is none the wiser.

“you sly fox!” it occurs at an hour much too early for tess’ level of excitement, a spark of something in her voice he’s not quite heard in nearly a decade now, back when she’d let it slip that she’d made contact with someone over the radio. “keeping this all to yourself!”

blinking out the sleep-induced blur in his vision, his hands rub over them in a further effort to clear his sight. the couch squeaks beneath the weight of him as he leans forward, elbows coming to rest on his pointed knees. confusion leaves him in a questioning grunt.

“c’mon, joel, the jig is up!” she’s insisting on maintaining her enthusiasm, and the man has to wonder just how good her night must have been for her to be so chipper come barely an hour past sunrise. “so, who is she?”

with only the sparing of a clueless, sleep-filled glance, joel’s risen to his feet and shouldered past his companion. headed straight for the minuscule kitchen, where once he would have boiled a kettle and prepped himself a mug of instant coffee, nowadays he’s lucky to find enough water to fill a single unwashed cup. he does just that, watching the water fill only a third of the plastic before downing it in one gulp.

tess is hot on his heels, following him through their cramped living space. he sighs, resigning himself to the reality he’s faced with: this is not a conversation she will let him walk away from. be whatever it may be, the woman is hunting for some answers. “what’re ya talkin’ about? ain’t keepin’ shit from you.”

he’s reminded, much to his own dismay, of a time she’d accused him of cutting deals on the side without her, back when her distrust and his aloofness had kept their newfound partnership on edge.

“oh, really?” her voice never loses that sense of excitement, and he’s beginning to wonder whether he should be grateful or resentful of this. the smile on her lips spreads wider over her face. “then explain these, casanova.”

there, dangling over her extended pointer finger, lays a blur of lace.

it is a dainty little thing, a blush of some pastel colour that’s oh so feminine it makes his toes curl at the thought. a tangle of fabrics so delicate he fears they’d fall apart with just a taste of his calloused touch.

it is delicate, it is soft, it is dirty.

and it is yours.

was yours, till he’d ripped it down your legs and stuffed the fabric into the back of his jeans. it was a mindless action, at the time, and one he’d forgotten about, tucked away in the unmarked box in his mind where he’d learned to place most things involving you. sleep-filled eyes, and wine-stained lips, and serenity-inducing laughter, and heavenly-soiled lace. forgotten about, until he’d been stripping himself off at the end of the night and the garment stumbled to the floor at his feet, calling for him like tess’ lover cried her name in pleas of more.

he’d tasted the softness of lace that night, first on his lips and then around his cock, tangled in the unforgiving grip of his frantic hands.

the fabric had not been forgotten since, always within reach of the man. where some kept trinkets of silvers and golds as their symbols of luck, he kept your lace, tucked safely in the back left pocket of his jeans, awaiting his nervous fiddling in times when stress ran high and only the softness of the fabric would pull him back down to earth

“they ain’t mine.” still, he snatches them out of her grasp.

back left pocket, tucked back into safety.

“never said they were,” she has a point, but it only serves to frustrate him. because of course she wasn’t implying they were his to wear- never in a month of sundays would the likes of joel miller fit himself into such well-kept lace-, but she sure as hell believes they are his. “thought i’d be nice for once and clean some of your clothes, since you seem to have forgotten how to. they fell out your pocket while i was busy folding some trousers.”

convenient.

that’s what it is, considering that in their who-knows-how-many years of partnership, the woman has not taken the time to tend to his washing. he’d asked her, once, body recovering from a near-fatal stab he’d taken to the abdomen. she had not said no to his request. or, rather, she had not simply used the word no. ask me again and i’ll finish what those raider’s started.

every surface of the room captures his attention, from the ripped wallpaper to the tattered remains of what once were curtains, anything other than tess, who hovers at his shoulder like a fly to shit.

he needs something to do, to distract.

thinking of the days ahead, he begins a list of things they’ll need- gauze, food rations, water, more gauze. joel has still yet to sharpen their knives, displeased with them since the moment he’d noticed tess’ struggling to cut through a cable wire. did they have enough ammo? maybe he’d need to grovel for some more off of bill-

“who’ve you been fucking, sunshine?”

frozen where he stands. mind in disarray, heart pounding a thousand miles an hour, blood somehow both everywhere and nowhere in his body at once. all he can think is that tess knows. sunshine. she knows, she knows, she knows.

she knows and she’s going to tell frank, who’ll tell bill, who’ll place a target on joel’s head and hit bullseye the moment he so much as tries to step anywhere near you, and then where will joel be? back to facing only the dull grey skies and locking himself away in bone-chilling solitude.

clarity befalls him.

she’s teasing. sunshine. it’s not an answer to her question, it’s a name meant to mock him. tess has no clue, not a single incline to guess what events had transpired in the stillness of the night the last time she’d dragged them out to bill and frank’s. she doesn’t know.

“if you don’t want to tell me,” the words leave her in a sing-song tone, and for a moment he needs to remind himself this is a woman his own age, not a teenager. it would be easy to confuse the two. “i’ll just have to figure it out myself!”

he won’t be the one to tell.

“laura silver.” it’s the first name that comes to mind, and the image it paints in his head brings forth a repulsion unlike no other. he’d rather lick shit off a stick than subject himself to her company willingly. by the twisted-up look on tess’ face, she seems to agree.

“really? isn’t she a bit... chatty for you? and, like, way too happy?”

she has no idea.

the questioning glances only amplify once the two set off, each stop they make along the way- to eat, to sleep, to rest their deteriorating joints- punctuated with that feeling in the air that joel dislikes so much. the unsaid, the unfinished, the more. it makes his stomach lurch with anxious thoughts and his heartbeat cease under the stress they bring.

birds tweeting, wind howling, leaves rustling becomes the soundtrack to their travels, guiding them onwards with encouraging notes and filling the empty pockets of silence that sit between the four, five, six steps he walks ahead of her, fingers curled around a weapon and eyes trained on anything that moves the wrong way. the guts and gore of clickers stabbed and bloaters beaten wet their clothes in the early hours, yet they dry come noon, coating their every inch in a sickening syrup.

“you both got another thing coming if you think he’s gonna let you through the door like that.” joel had not experienced anything like it since the ages where he’d arrive home hours past his curfew, knees scrapped on gravel and clothes stained in mud, stood beneath the dimming porch light as his mother washed him.

only, it is bill who holds the hose instead of the woman who’d raised him.

freshly hosed down, a trail of dripped water marks the space he crosses through the house out into the backyard, losing tess along the way as she calls dibs on showering first- as if joel wouldn’t immediately put himself last in any scenario that involves her.

what he finds is a garden in gloom, infant rosebuds so young and new to life they’ve yet to lose that tinge of green that separates them from the rest of the bush they inhabit. it is the image of winter, casting its blue hue on everything it touches, from the leafless trees to the wolf-eyed dog, who’s tail begins a slow wag from its place upon the floor before the mutt’s jumping up all four paws and bounding its way over to him.

the german shepherd crashes into him like a wave, nearly sending him stumbling backwards. it’s grown in the past weeks, he realises, large paws a little more suited to the length of its stretched back. he fights a fearsome battle to contain the man within him who longs to clap his hands down on the dog’s fur, with an inhale of breath he hopes will drag down the words of praise and greeting aimed towards the pointy-eared creature, joel manages to dismiss the animal with a shrug.

it follows him, even so, as he takes another step out into the yard.

frank’s familiar figure sits within a chair. he’s calm, staring out at his decayed world as though he’s merely waiting for the passing of time to bring back the colourfulness his flowerbeds once possessed. his hair sits the same, his clothes look the same and, yet, something is off. joel can’t quite put his finger on it, all he knows is that this man is half the man he’d bid goodbye to weeks ago.

“sorry for dragging you guys out here again so soon,” his words are gentle, like always, yet his voice is ragged. joel wonders if he too had caught that damn cold. maybe him and tess brought it into the house, leaving behind a tally of germs for the three occupants of the home to choke on. maybe you’d caught it too. maybe you were in need of someone to make you soup and fret over the temperature your body keeps. maybe he should have returned sooner. “but i’m sure bill’s already filled you in.”

bill has done no such thing.

joel shakes his head. frank’s never one to push him to talk, accustomed to the likes of a man who’s short on words and spreads any dose of warmth his soul may posses sparingly. it’s a trait he appreciates, the patience to never expect more. frank talks, joel listens, both of them agree on this dynamic.

“we’ve got nothing for you this time, i’m afraid," joel swallows a snarky then what d’ya call us out for. he’s not subtle enough to go unnoticed by the man who’s known him too long, who chooses to combat the raising of his hackles and the frowning of his brow with calmly spoken words. “but we’ll owe you one. a favour, i mean.”

that recaptures his attention. his shoulders lower in tow with his hostility and the dog nuzzles its muzzle into his hand, forcing him to uncurl his fist. “what’s the catch?” he asks because he knows frank, and he knows that frank knows him, that frank chooses his words wisely when they’re alone. he wouldn’t be beating around the bush, keeping his words vague and his tone secretive, if it weren’t for the fact that joel, likely, will not enjoy partaking in whatever favour they’re about to ask of him.

“we’ve got a truck, in the garage,” he shares, like this is news to joel, like he’d never seen the vehicle in question. “and it’s been a while since it’s had a run-around, breaks are probably squeaky as sin, and-”

“get to the point.”

frank smiles, less uneasy as joel’s usual candor nature gets in the way of his brooding image, interrupting his silent streak with a rushed out jumble of words the man’s sure would sound harsher were they directed at anyone other than the friendly-eyed artist. “can you teach the girl to drive?”

joel’s ability is not being questioned, in truth, but rather his willingness.

the request is sensical, understandable for a girl your age- whatever that may be- to have no experience behind the wheel. the damned mushrooms had likely already taken hold of the world by the time you’d reached the legal driving age.

it is not a difficult task either, he supposes, with no need for every intricate little road rule to be passed down. so long as you can learn to spin the wheel, shift the gears and control the pedals, you’d be good to go.

agreeing to it would also, in theory, be agreeing to the prospective scenario where joel miller finds himself trapped inside the small, four-wheeled confines of a moving vehicle with someone who grinds his gears and haunts his thoughts. there’s so much room to suffer in the solitude of your presence, so much potential to think up what-ifs and if-onlys in his head as you stare back at him, eyes beaming rays of pure-heartedness. i don’t like you, joel. it’ll echo in the distance between you.

“bill can’t do it?” his question is met with a grimace, and he wonders if the man had already attempted. perhaps you are beyond teaching in his eyes and so they’ve settled for calling in joel to deal with your unsalvageable driving skills. perhaps they know you already dislike the man and figured there’d be no harm in giving you more reason to, when he loses his patience and scrutinises your driving skills.

“she won’t let him,” joel’s head snaps up from the floor, eyes shifting from the mutt enjoying the carding of his fingers over its head back to frank. the greys in the man’s hair seem to have multiplied, the wrinkles on his face a little deeper. joel’s struck, his stomach twisting up, with the reality of noticing his friend is growing old. “said she’d sooner trust a clicker behind the wheel than bill. she asked us to call you guys.”

you called.

you wanted him here.

you guys. sure, it may be the collective of both him and tess. but he’s still a part of that equation, meaning you’d willingly brought him close, beckoned his return to the heaven he’d left you in.

one shower later and he’s wadding his way out back, into the garage. hair still a mess of towel-dried curls, clothes fresh and a little unfitting- he’d stolen them from frank, after overhearing the man inform tess he’d taken the liberty of burning their blood soaked clothing.

he’d agreed to the deal, much to frank’s delight and his own shame, mind too enraptured by the prospect of solitude with you to judge the situation at hand clearly.

the door creaks, a beg for oil, and announces joel’s arrival far sooner than he would have preferred, stumbling upon the scene of you. more specifically, the back of you, doubled over. everything from the waist up digging through the backseats of the vehicle, seemingly searching for something, while everything downwards sits on full display for his starved eyes to feast upon. boot covered feet, the hem of the most nonsensical skirt resting upon bare calves, the curvature of thighs beneath silk, the stretch of tightened fabric against your ass.

joel thinks himself a strong man, but he is weakened by the sight.

you startle at his entrance, rushing to straighten yourself so quickly your head smacks against the top of the car’s door frame. a hiss and a pressing of a hand to your head is not enough to comfort the witness of your harm, crossing those three steps forward needed to grip your jumper-covered shoulders and spin you to face him, eyes immediate with their scanning of your features, frantic to confirm you’re not teary-eyed, nor pouty-lipped, nor in the beginnings of a concussion.

“i never heard-" you pause whatever you wish to say when one of his hands covers your own, cradling the back of your head. he’s well-aware this is too close, too unlike him, too noteworthy. but he can not seem to care enough to welcomed back the distance that so often sits between you. “oh, it’s you.”

“sorry to disappoint ya.”

he surely is.

disappointed, confused, conflicted. here you stand, no runny nose, no bloodshot eyes, no scratch in your voice, no need to be cared for. it’s a selfish thing, to feel his heart lurch at the fact you’re in full-health, no pesky cough in sight, but his distaste towards the feeling only makes it double in size.

“no! sorry, i just,” you’re the first to inch back, head tilting to meet his stare with your own. he follows suit, taking your unvocalised desires and stepping away from you, hands back by his own side and vowing to keep themselves there. “i thought it would be tess teaching me.”

so maybe you’d never called for him.

he’s just the tag-along, the con to tess’ pro, the consequence to tess’ presence. you view him like the sun views the moon: a small, dim, lifeless rock that sits in wait every waking day, orbiting around tess’ planet.

it is not news, yet it stings like it. a fresh wound added onto the litter of marks that ache his soul. the pain leaves him in the only way he knows how anymore; a face devoid of emotion.

“not,” you’re uneasy. thrown-off. squitterish. hands tuck up into the sleeves of your sweater and eyes glass over with worry. the possibility that he scares you both lights his soul on fire and sends it to drown in a lake made of his sorrows. “that there’s anything wrong with you! i just... figured you’d have better stuff to do.”

he doesn’t.

“yeah, well, i ain’t doin’ it for free,” his proverbial foot shoots into his mouth, slamming shut whatever small window of opportunity he’d stumbled upon to say the kind thing, to do nice by you for once. i don’t like you, joel. but he could change that, if he just changed his attitude. and his nature. and his sense of being. so, just about everything about himself. it would not be much for the promise of a piece of his sol. it’s  much too late for that now and, so, he commits to the role life’s already chosen for him to play, the heartless bastard. “let’s get this over with.”

“jesus christ, sol, didn’t your daddy ever put ya behind the wheel?”

joel’s anger is unjustified.

he’s aware of this, in the back of his mind, yet any rational voices burn into silence at the heat of his ire. only twenty, or thirty, or forty minutes since you’ve hit the open road, since he’d buckled himself into the idea of being alone with you, and the car feels like it’s closing in on itself. every inhale a struggle for oxygen, every exhale a subdued desire.

perfectly manicured nails grip the steering wheel.

counting trees had worked, if only for a while, to keep his focus off everything occupying the driver’s side. the novelty wore off as you passed the thirty seventh in a row, where joel’s eyes finally drifted off from the view ahead to the one on his left.

a pair of lips sit parted in concentration.

he’d needed a new distraction, one he found as he popped open the glove compartment and found a man of his taste’s holy grail. well, at least the holy grail that was found in materials rather than between the thighs of- cds! rock, country, punk. the 70s, the 80s, the 90s. fleetwood mac, the rolling stones, johnny cash. that’s what he’d found, a collection bill must keep to hold an emblem of what the world once was: loud, rhythmic, lively. now static, quiet, lonely. not even a full verse into ring of fire and you’d switched the volume off. “i can’t concentrate with that crap playing.”

half a thigh, exposed by the slit up a skirt.

now he has nowhere to turn, to let himself run off to in thoughts that promise the sweet salvation of distraction. facing forward is not an option, the empty road ahead holding no ounce of his attention. focusing on the right as the world passes by outside the window holds no merit, and no amount of trinkets nor garbage that litter the nooks and crannies of the car helps. his eyes always find their way back to you.

breathtaking in the most painful way, you sit unaware of the effect you have on him. as you shift from third to fourth gear, as your thigh tenses to press down harder on the gas pedal, as nimble fingers unnecessarily practice using the indicators. you don’t see how his frown deepens and he scorns you with his stare.

“he was a bit busy making a name for himself,” you utter a reply minutes too late, when he’s already convinced himself you hadn’t heard him.

your focus is strict, eyes glued on the road as if you’re afraid an obstacle- be it something infected, or something animal, or something malevolent- will come your way. and all the while, joel’s sat in shock, pure fucking eye-widening shock, as the words you utter slowly seep into his brain. minute as it may be, it’s the first detail, the first piece of history you’ve offered of yourself. an absent father, the words cause a dull ache in the left side of his chest. 

god, he’s being too quiet, he needs to ask more while you’re willing to answer.

you switch to fifth gear with a delay that would have cost you points back in the days of capitalistic civilisations. the gear-box makes an ugly noise of which the engine follows up with a growl of its own. 

panicked, your hand shoots straight back to the gear-shift, curling around it so tight the white bones beneath your knuckles threaten to rip through your skin and put themselves on display. the car slows with the release of your foot off the pedal and he presumes you mean to lower the gears too- perhaps, you’ve thought it best to maintain the safety net provided in the third gear- but you must not be thinking straight, must lack proper motor-control over your body, as your hand pushes down on the stick and, slam!

the car comes to a complete stop.

the sharp pain that cuts up his neck as whiplash takes over, the weight of his upper-half flying forward and stopped only by the seatbelt that crosses over him, it becomes near non-existent as a strangled cry and a whimper of pain comes from the driver’s seat.

a scrambling of hands, a forceful push onto the pedal, a handful of panicked breaths and fearful mutterings of something involving bill and kill and will. none of it helps in the face of your problem. you’re stubborn, however, trying once more to push the stick forward, and getting nowhere. joel tells himself to remain delicate in his touch and composed in his heart as his hand clamps down on top yours, curling his longer digits around the gear-stick and giving it a tug upwards, effortless in his attempt to shift the car out of reverse and back into the first gear.

your eyes meet his. watery, and big, and full of fear.

“musician?” conversation, that will distract you in your moments of panic. he’ll talk you through the fierce currents of racing heartbeats and sweaty palms, till your waters are calm as can be.

the hand that still sits atop your own gives a soft squeeze.

“deep breath, sol,” he leads by example, filling his lungs with a sharp, deep inhale through his nose. you follow, nodding as if you’re in a trance yet you mimic him nonetheless. deep inhale, through the nose, inflate your chest. “atta girl. you’re fine. car’s fine. ya just stalled it, s’all. happens all the time.”

he’s hopeful to be helpful, but then the first tear wins the war over your composure, slipping down your cheek as you shakily exhale. another few- four, he thinks, but can not say for sure- follow suit, staining ugly cristaline rivers down the globes of your cheeks. another inhale from joel, another exhale from you. you breathe in tandem, as if relying on the other to remember such a human act is necessary for survival.

it’s purely instinctual, something as uncontrollable and unpracticed as the beating of his heart or the blinking of his eyes, the way his free hand captures ahold of your cheek. the rough pad of his thumb swipes over the bottom of your eye, so close that he feels the tickle of your lower lashes, collecting whatever tears threaten to fall next.

let them stain his skin instead of yours.

“ya dad,” maybe you need clarification, something to stall the rapidly speeding thoughts that race through your mind. “was he a musician?”

at first, silence. more deep breathing, less shaky exhales. your tears still wet his thumb but they no longer seem to be spilling down your cheek, collecting on your lashes like the dust on a shelf. he thinks of wiping the tears off the untouched side of your face, mostly to settle whatever part of him feels shaken at your distress, yet, as he slowly raises the hand that sits atop yours on the gear-stick, you halt him. fingers tangle messily with his own and squeeze so hard he feels the pressure deep in his bones, threatening to snap like twigs.

and, then, you shake you head.

no.

nonverbal, yet entirely understood by him.

your dad was not a singer. you hear him as much as you feel him. you’re slowly returning. to the car, and to a rational state of mind, and to him. a few moments pass, slipping between you with as much ease as his thumb stroking over your wrist, pushing down just that little bit till he feels the fading thrump-thrumps of a panicked heart. he speaks once you’re ready, once the slow rise and fall of your chest lulls his own self into a state of calm. “gonna need ya to turn the keys in the ignition, think ya can do that?”

you do as he says, inadvertently placing your trust in him and his words, and turn the key. when the car shudders yet fails to come alive, your head snaps right back to him, eyes a pleading mess for answers, guidance, help.

it does wonders to his ego, to that caveman mentality that sadly resides in some corner of his mind. needed, useful, protective. things he doesn’t get to feel with tess, doesn’t need to feel with tess. she takes care of herself, and him, and never asks for a damn thing in return. but you need him, need his calming words and his knowledge of vehicles.

for once, he’s a necessity instead of a casualty in your life.

“foot on the clutch, sol,” his pointed words hold no mockery, becoming a metaphorical rubber-dingy that he tosses your way, one more thing to pull you into the safety of a calm shore.

this time, the engine roars back to life.

you’re elated, a smile splitting up your cheeks even as you let the car crawl to a start, wheels turning slowly as you give the gas a light tap. he sees the way your shoulders sag, like a ten-ton weight has just been stripped off them. 

“told ya, s’just a stall,” it’s the nicest i told you so he can offer, especially as the lingering of that nasty feeling still creeps over your actions, subduing you in a way he doesn’t quite enjoy. you should not be meek, nor placid, nor doubtful yet that is all he sees as he watches you hesitantly drive the car into second gear. “used to happen t’me all the time. at the worst times, too. like... intersections and shit. can’t count the times i got flipped off by some truck driver.”

you giggle. quiet, girlish, subtle. joel almost mistakes it for a tickle in your throat, a discomfort you catch yourself coughing over. but, no. your shoulders dance, your lips tilt up, rapid little breaths sneak out your nose. it doesn’t even matter that it’s at his expense, the fact he’s the one to rouse such a delicate reaction despite his rough voice, and rough words and, well, rough everything, it’s enough to settle his soul with a deep contempt.

you continue slowly, not daring to test the power of the car. he says nothing, not a word about the waste of bill’s fuel nor the painfully boring pace at which the world flies by outside the window. you’ll speed up, he knows it, once you get your momentarily lost confidence back. talking seems to be your first approach to easing the tension in your stiff arms. “actor.”

he hums in question, quirking a brow despite your gaze being fixated on nothing but what sits ahead.

“he was an actor. a wannabe actor,” you’re soft spoken, trying your best to keep that shake in your voice under control. “my dad. so... you almost had it right.”

“anything i might know him from?” he tries, and fails, to match the lightness of your voice, his own far too gruff, and dark, and jagged to replicate the smooth edges of your own. 

“not unless you had a thing for cheesy teenage romcoms.”

the words seem to take control of him, forcing their way out before he can so much as recognise their existence. “i didn’t but my dau-” if you notice the way he halts himself, you say nothing.

“wanna know the most ironic thing?” he senses no real humour behind the few chuckles you let out, eyes lost ahead. joel wonders if you’re truly seeing the road, or merely looking at it, letting the world blur as your focus sits elsewhere. you await no response before continuing. “the only role he could never master was the present father.”

a father placing his dreams over his child, the idea is one he can’t quite wrap his head around.

joel had had big dreams, once. dreams that involved world tours, and golden records, and screaming fans. those dreams were shoved aside, not even a whisper to be heard in his mind, the moment he held his bundle of joy for the first time. screaming her little lungs off, tiny body covered in fluids he could never name, eyes staring wide back at him as she took in the image of her father for the first time. she became his new dream, his only dream. to hold, protect and love.

just like the stage, he eventually lost that dream too.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes the words out, quiet beneath the hum of the engine.

“why?” you’re not harsh with your delivery. in fact, you even glance momentarily in his direction and shoot him one of those smiles, the ones that steal the spotlight away from everything else and render him frozen beneath it’s shine. nonetheless, joel fears he’s done it once more, offended you without even trying. “it’s not your job to apologise for someone else’s mistake, joel.”

the silence which settles between you once more feels less like the awful quiet of drowning beneath crashing waves and more akin to the static of an untuned radio, with its antenna out of place and detecting no signals. it’s calming to sit like that with you and somewhere between the hum of the engine and the world passing by outside the windows, joel’s mind wanders off into dangerous territories.

territories where he thinks of this exact setting, you driving and him sitting in the passengers side fighting off the sudden languid feeling that grips his soul, only in his imagination it’s later, deep into the night. you’re not alone on the road, a collection of cars passing by and driving ahead, and the smell of cheap beer fills the car. snoring from the backseats, a sleepy girl finally given into the call of sleep after a long day. the image of his hand reaching over the console to find yours, matching silver bands clinking together as he lets himself entwine his fingers with yours.

he jolts up straight, head no longer resting on the window and eyes blinking away whatever make-believe daydream he’d inflicted upon himself, when a sound of anguish comes from your seat.

selfishly indulging in his silly fantasies, joel’d failed to notice your silence was not the same as his. while he bathed in warmth, you quivered in coldness. your nails now threaten to leave marks on the steering wheel, your lips point downwards in a frown, your thigh shakes nervously with each measly push of fuel you give the car.

it’s cruel of him to keep you driving in this state.

“there’s a gas station a few miles from ‘ere,” his words are punctuated by a defeated sigh, already beating himself up mentally for not noticing soon enough the state you’ve been sat in. “pull into it.”

if joel had a nickel for every time he’s seen you in this position, he’d have two nickels.

your chest heaving with every breath, your back pressed to his front, your closed legs stood between his own. flashbacks to the kitchen, all you’re missing is a knife in your hand and a counter-top for him to box you in against.

he’d believe the idea of popping the car’s hood and teaching you a little about the interior of a vehicle was a good one, a smart one, a chance to gain some knowledge that may prove itself useful. the plan was to show you where things sat- the engine, the dip-stick for the oil, the battery- and hope the momentary distraction would be enough to unravel your nerves, leaving you primed and prepped to drive you both back to the home joel would never share with you.

as marvellously innocent and simple as his plan was, he’d failed to take into account one important detail: you’re your own person, capable of things he’d never think to predict. so, when you’d stepped out the now parked truck a few minutes after him, sweater left behind and nothing but some flimsy, practically see-through white tank top, he’d just about felt all the blood drain from his face- and head straight to his crotch- while his eyes done little to hide the glaringly obvious staring at your breasts they indulged in, the blush of colour from pebbled nipples beneath the fabric enough to have him salivating at the thought of putting his mouth on them. “i’m not staining my favourite sweater with oil”, that had been your excuse for torturing him so cruelly.

he’s no better than the old perverts who used to drool over a woman jogging down the street.

“ok, so, this,” you shuffle forwards, feet crunching down on some crumbling gravel below. before joel can let relief flood over his senses at having just that slightest bit of distance between you both, you bend at the hip and lean across the vehicle, hands grabbing at a familiar yellow stick. “is the dip-stick?”

hearing your voice but rendered incapable of listening, he’s frozen. the fingers at his side ball into fists as that familiar beast seduces itself over his senses, flashing images in his mind of all the places he’s yet to place his hands. your neck, your waist, your thighs, the wanton desire to map out your every trace and burn it into his memory is endless, all-consuming.

your voice calls out his name.

he hums, you repeat your question, to which he huffs out an agreement, tongue too heavy to form words.

“then this,” you stretch further, fingertips reaching for the top right corner. not quite reaching your desired object, you shuffle two steps back and send him into turmoil as your ass presses tightly into his crotch. like a wounded animal, he sucks air in through his teeth and clamps his hands down on your hips. initially he means to move you but, inevitably, he holds you against him. “must be the battery.”

the jeans he wears seem to have grown a little tighter. uncomfortably so. still, he can’t bring himself to care, nor to readjust them, grip only clamping itself down tighter on you at the sheer threat of removing them.

he’d thought back to that night, more times that he cares to admit to himself. at first, it was a means to an end, a memory of lustful images to drive him towards some quick pleasure and relieve the pressure of stress off his shoulders, giving him the chance to actually get some sleep. your taste on his tongue, your hands in his hair, the weight of your body keening back into him. he felt it for days. weeks, even, ghosts that haunted his skin.

then came the guilt, seeping in like rain through the crack in tess’ and his ceiling.

he had no right to touching you the way he had. here you are, a glimmer of light that brings warmth into the coldest of place, while there he is, a thunderstorm of emotions all wrapped up in the darkness of rain clouds, threatening to stain and dampen everything he puts his care into. his daughter, dead. his brother, gone. and, hell, even tess has nearly slipped through his weak hold countless times. so, how dare he subject you to the danger of his caress, mark you with the touch of death his heart seems to bring?

hours of tossing and turning, unwrapping himself from tess’ arms as he’d crawl out of bed in the middle of the night to go wear his footprints into the floorboards of their living room, pacing back and forth as withered hands ran through greying hair, searching for some solution to this... this swelling in his heart, ache in his bones, longing in his loins at the memory of you.

bill had asked him once, years ago, what his greatest weakness was. he’d been wise enough to gruff out a harsh nothin’.

his answer has changed, since then.

you reach into the darkness of his spiralling mind and drag him back with three words. “texas, you good?”

he doesn’t quite give you an answer. not a vocal one, at least, settling for giving each of your hips a squeeze when words fail him. he’s gazing in admiration and wonder, eyes trailing themselves over the way you’re struggling to stretch further, the tips of your fingers fighting to reach the object you’d been trying to identify. one moment, you’re huffing over the fight to touch the car’s battery, and the next, you’re sending two tidal waves down joel’s spine: panic and arousal.

maybe, you don’t mean to do it. it could be purely accidental, an action you don’t even take a second to consider after years of living solely in the presence of two men who bare no interest in bending you over any surface. but, you do it.

you whine.

it’s born from pain, your entire frame shooting upright while clutching your hand close to your chest. joel knows that alone should be enough to vanish any explicit thoughts from his mind. the hunger only grows though, his insides twisting up at the notion of you being hurt, needing comfort. a kiss to a bleeding wound, he’d deliver it no questions asked.

his hands are still around your waist. your bodies are still pressed together. he feels every shaky inhale, every heaved exhale. it’s a struggle to pry your injured hand away from the safety of your chest, pulling backwards till your elbow juts outwards and your open palm sits level with his mouth.

it’s your pointer finger, a dark, angry looking mark running halfway down your fingerprints.

“‘s the matter with ya,” worry has always been something joel expresses loudly. raised voices, frantic movements, heavy steps. his brother had called him out on it, the morning after his parental care led to a heated argument and the slamming of doors, from both the pre-teen and the adult in the miller household. it’s a flaw that’s only worsened, with time and circumstance, and it keeps him from saying what he really means. are you okay? “you some kind of idiot or somethin’?” i can’t stand to see you hurt.

“i didn’t think-”

“clearly fuckin’ not!” be more careful. “touchin’ the damn battery like the car ain’t just been stopped!” please.

he’s better with actions, gentle in the physical even as he berates you verbally. he pulls in air through his nostrils before blowing it out through his puckered lips, directly onto the mild burn imprinting itself on your delicate skin. you hiss as his cooling breath makes initial contact and your hand jerks back, fighting to stray away from him. joel fixes his grip, making sure you don’t get too far before he blows a second breath.

“i’m fine,” you’re an awful liar, the grimace on your lips doing nothing to reassure him. at least you’re smart enough to not waste any more energy on fighting against him, slumping forward to rest your hand on the truck’s open hood. “didn’t even hurt that much. i just wasn’t expecting it to be hot.”

with no acknowledgement thrown your way, he huffs out another couple of breaths, mind already running off in thoughts of what comes next. a superficial burn, it should heal in a matter of days. if you’re lucky, the injured skin will merely peal away to reveal a fresh layer. if you’re unlucky, a blister will swell in it’s place.

joel only aims to ensure your luck.

bowing his head and leaning down, he captures your finger between his lips. your breaths catches in your throat as this new angle, new proximity to your face allows his eyes to take in the way your own seem to roll back, lips parted with something unsaid. he drags the tip of his tongue over your wound, which pulses and burns hot beneath his muscle. his tongue flicks back over only for him to lick at the burn once more, this time with a flattened tongue, smothering it in his saliva.

the suckle his lips give is purely selfish.

“that kinda-” a fluttery sort of noise leaves you, a pleasant little thing that seems unable to decide if it wants to be a giggle or a moan. it settles for something in between, unknowingly spurring joel on to suck around your digit again. “it kinda tickles.”

the hand he holds against your hip travels north, halting abruptly as the top of his thumb reaches the swell of your breast. being so affected by a braless chest is something joel thought he’d left behind in teenage-hood. the way his cock twitches in his pants at the knowledge that yours sit bare beneath the thin cotton camisole gives him deja-vu.

in a rushed- and entirely unthought over decision- joel switches the direction of his trail of fingerprints to move south, slipping down past where cotton sits tucked beneath silk. the skirt is soft and inviting. all his sick mind can do is picture you lain across a bed with silk sheets, your naked curves, and pert nipples, and dribbling cunt a whole different kind of soft and inviting.

skin meets skin when he arrives at the top of the skirt’s slit. he wastes no time, fingers dragging themselves under the material to feel the recently discovered terrain of your full thighs. with supple skin, warm and pliable beneath his hold, he indulges himself in letting his grip dig in and squeeze the meaty flesh.

all the while, his tongue licks over your burn.

“otis does that too,” you’re struggling to keep your grip on the car, a delightful realisation for joel. you’d played the innocent for far too long last time, hardly exposing your desires till push came to shove and your knife went clattering out your hand. now you force yourself deeper into his touch, your finger applying pressure to his tongue as it pushes down on the muscle and tickles his tastebuds with the bite of your painted nail. the quiet voice of his subconscious wants you to push deeper, till your digit hits the back of his throat, his eyes sting with tears and he’s gagging around you. “tries to lick wounds better-”

the sight of you shutting up, lips parted in some unheard noise as his hand cups the entirety of your clothed pussy, sends a wave of heat to joel’s already burning loins.

the furnace of your two intertwined bodies shields you both to the slowly dropping temperatures, with no time to spare and no care to give to the grey skies that roll in while he rolls your concealed clit beneath two fingers, pinching once or twice, possibly thrice, in hopes of pushing his emotional aches onto you physically.

fighting against the tight squeeze of your underwear’s band around his wrist, two fingers, a pointer and a middle, smooth their way past your pubic bone, over your aching mound and dip down to swipe over your slit. a soaked mess, a warm and sticky coating, welcomes them as joel strokes the outer surface of your cunt in a lax manner, taking his time to admire how soft your lips feel, how warm your skin burns, how hard your entrance throbs, all the while he’s coating your cunt it’s own liquid pleasure. his mouth drops your hand, the grip his own has on it tightening once more. though, this time, it’s not from the need to keep you in place but from a primal, possessive desire that seduces his rationality. “quit comparin’ me to your fuckin’ dog.”

the hand down your pants has a mind of its own, trading the teasing strokes up the length of your seam for the tight squeeze of your walls around his fingers as they penetrate you- two at the same time, no consideration for the discomfort the sudden sting of breaching your entrance brings.

you seem to like the pain, enough to let go of the vehicle and melt back into joel. your head meets his shoulder as your eyes roll back and your mouth falls slack, legs writhing to fight for more friction. he remains frozen, face a stoic slab void of expression if not for the crease in his brow where his eyebrows have furrowed. the fingers in your cunt curl, slightly, testing your patience with the way they press into the spongy tissue.

“joe- ah...” you fail to say his name, your two lips barely getting the chance to touch as he curls his finger a second time. this time harder, with more certainty in the way he’s touching you. “move, please.”

your lips, parted in gasps and cries that threaten to cut his fun short with the way they likely have his cock staining his briefs in precum, become public enemy number one as he decides they need to be shut, silenced, occupied so that he can hold off blowing his load again before he’s even had the chance to feel you clench around his cock.

with your finger still drenched in his spit, a fat bead of it dripping down the back of your hand, he shoves it into your own mouth, disgustingly intrigued with the way you welcome it so eagerly and drink down the taste of his saliva.

now you’re silenced, joel gives an experimental thrust of his hand, dragging both his fingers out till only the tips tease at your entrance before slamming them back in. the moan you let out is muffled, a sound that titillates him yet no longer threatens his sanity. you find another way to ruin him, however, body jolting and ass rolling back into his form when he starts to set a steady pace to leisurely fuck his fingers into your cunt.

“tried to be fuckin’ good. kept my hands to myself, didn’t- fuck!” he must reach something inside of you, knuckles deep and slick spilling down his hand, that has you mewling, eyes no longer shut as you crane your neck to stare up at him and your hips roll backwards, momentarily smothering his clothed cock between the swell of your silk covered cheeks. “didn’t bring up anythin’ ‘bout the last time i saw ya. but you just ‘ad to go and ruin it now, didn’t ya?”

“leasehmm,” you hum the incoherent babble around your own finger and joel can’t stop himself from forcing it further into your mouth, laser stare sharp enough to burn holes into your throat as he watches you gag.

“c’mon, you can do it,” you’ve got him trapped between your legs, both your thighs and the walls of your cunt clenching his hand in a vice grip as he continues his ministrations, satiating the taste for warm flesh he’s been craving since he slammed the door to the kitchen and tried to fool himself into thinking he could simply make his way back to tess in her drunken state, crash down to sleep on the couch and wake up the next day as if everything that had transpired in the moonlight was just another one of his perverted fantasies. awakening with the taste of you still on his tongue threw all hope out the window. “use your words, pretty girl.”

with an awkward bend, the pad of his thumb brushes over your neglected clit in a gentle circling motion, coaxing you further and further to that ledge of ecstasy he aims to throw you off, plunge you into the heavens of a blinding orgasm. crooking his fingers and grinding his cock into the base of your spine become practiced movements, a kind of push and pull dance his body plays with yours, guiding you both to the beats of your erratic hearts.

“mmmoel,” bless you, really, for trying so hard to speak while chocking on yourself, yet making no attempt to shove his hand away. your well-mannered nature has never made him so hard- and, trust that it has done so plenty of times- as you melt yourself into a writhing mess in his arms, blown out pupils and spit dribbling out the corner of your mouth all the while you do as he bids. “mmhop.”

“‘s the matter, sweet girl? hmm?” you’re close, he knows it. feels it, when your free hand shoots down to grip his wrist through the soft skirt, nails biting flesh even through the layer of silk. he half wonders if this is it, this is where you’re going to rip him off you and slap him in the face with the harsh truth: you’re too good to be touched by the likes of him. only, you simply clutch onto him and let him continue to play you like he’d once played a guitar, fingers plucking at the right strings and pressing on the right cords to make you sing a melody so sweet even the angels themselves would cry at its sound. “cat got your tongue? feels good, i know. ‘s okay, you can let go f’me, not gonna hold it against ya. just gonna hold ya through it, yeah? keep ya real safe in my arms while this pretty little pussy of yours takes what she needs, m’kay?”

the longer you take to tell him to stop, the more debauched the images of you in his mind become. once wishes of butterfly kisses and sweet surrenders beneath his naked embrace, now desires to have you on your knees crying, begging, praying for him to smother you with his sins.

with another thrust, he fucks a third finger into your cunt, stretching you even wider and trying his damn best to ignore the fact you’re still so tight despite the thickness of his fingers. that’ll only lead to his thoughts derailing to how much tighter you’d feel clamped around the girth of his cock.

he’d been modest, back in his younger years, shrugging off the cries of past lovers regarding his well endowed state as nothing more than flirtatious fiction, the kind of thing women would tell their man to make him feel special. only a few years ago he’d started to second guess his assumptions as he began to chase his highs with faceless bodies and all kinds of holes- mouth, cunt and ass.

most of the time his concubines get no chance to truly see his cock, too busy having their face shoved down into gravel, or into some brick wall in a sketchy alleyway, or, simply, the darkness that consumed the walls of the cubicle which kept them from seeing just who exactly they were fucking would also take away their chance to know what they were getting themselves into, what was about to get in to them.

their first reactions always seem to be a crying sort of sound, a sick pleasure washing over him and having his balls tightening. then comes the complaining of too much, too fast, too good, their bodies at odds with themselves and unable to decide if being impaled by him is their worst nightmare or their sweetest dream.

before they can ever decide, he’s ripping away from them and fucking himself to completion with his own hand. a mumbled thanks and- if it was one of those kind of deals- a drop of a med kit or some food rations to their feet, joel would be tucked back into his worn jeans and out of their sight before they’re able to catch their breaths and realise he’d left them there, stretched open and fucked out with no orgasm to show for it.

with you, he’d be different though.

there’s no need for his own pleasure if it came down to choosing between it and your own. the sheer thought of nuzzling his mouth between your thighs and lapping at every inch of your pussy, till his muscle aches and his jaw locks, is enough to have him on the precipice of cumming untouched. so, to think of a scenario where he slips his cock inside your velvet walls and doesn’t leave you a spasming mess after several earth shattering orgasms, over and over till a ring of your mixed juices decorates the base of him and you’ve milked him dry, that feels impossible.

“wait, joel, ah! please, please,” your head thrashes to the side, ripping away from your burned finger. you’re trembling, feet pushing up onto their tippy-toes as he fucks higher and higher into you. the hand around your wrists finds a new home curled around your jaw and his thumb begins it’s torturous circling of your clit once more, pushing and guiding and bullying your aching cunt towards an orgasm that’s sure to leave you breathless and- “stop!”

this time, it’s joel who’s recoiling his scorned hands.

pants fill the air, a desperate fight for oxygen as you stand before him, legs shaky and perked nipples chafing against the see-through fabric of your camisole. thunder cracks above, a deep and trembling noises that joel can’t help but feel fits the ambience, turmoil in both the sky and his heart.

he knows its for the best, to have you put your foot down and put an end to this ridiculous pursuit of lust joel’s imposing on you. not only have you made it clear you do not like him, but you’re younger, full of life, heart too mellow for a soul as dark as his. still, disappointment floods his bones.

both hands back at his side, he clenches them. wrong move, only serving to remind him one of his hands is smothered in your wetness, a schlick squelch bouncing up to his eardrums. you’ve turned to look at him, at some point. he notices the slight swell of your lips and the blown-out pupils, try though he might to ignore it.

staring right at him, you seem to be almost waiting on a reaction.

“‘s gettin’ dark, should prolly think of headin’ back,” joel won’t give you the satisfaction of hearing him beg, not when he knows it’ll get him nowhere. the hood, that’s what he should be focusing on. he shoots a hand up and slams the hood shut, fighting the urge to let his stare linger on the stain his pleasure soaked fingers leave behind on the blue painted metal. “bill and frank’ll be wonder-”

you call his name.

he can’t look at you, fingers fidgeting with some scab on his hand.

you try again. louder.

a sigh of resignation. he turns to face you, leaning back against the truck. the quirk of his brow enough to encourage you to get on with it, say what you need to say. paint him in shame, call him some names and then let you both be on your way.

you seem to take it as an invitation to approach. one step, then two more when he fails to back away. with a final step, you’re stood right before him, forcing yourself between the space of his parted legs. he’s never had you this close before, at least not with you facing him, and it’s almost too much. the familiar anxious pit in his loins creeps back, leaving him all too aware of the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins.

you smell... christmassy. burnt wood, dusted cinnamon, mulled wine. warm.

he can’t remember the last time he even thought of christmas.

he jolts at the feeling of your hands on his thighs, the coldness of them burning through the rough material of his pants. he’s not sure when it happened but he somehow finds himself sitting on the truck’s hood, hands splayed out on either side of him and knees bent over the edge as he parts way for you between them.

your hands smooth up the muscles of his thighs, up and down in repeated motions. soothing, calming. his heart beats a little slower with each movement.

only to jackhammer against his ribcage as your touch begins to move higher.

“i didn’t mean stop as in, stop touching me,” you breathe out the words like they’re the most delicate of secrets, only for his ears and your own to know. fingers threading through belt loops. a pull or two. he’s vaguely aware of the sound of metal clinking as you release him from the strain of it’s buckle, and the biting sound of teeth unzipping. “just... just wanna see you... feel you this time, when i... if that’s okay with you.”

he’s nodding his head before you can even finish your words, nearly crumbling as your fingers brush against his bulge. “‘smore than fine by me. shit, that’s... yeah.”

a pathetic man, that’s what he’s become, a meek shadow to the man who moments ago had you on the precipice of cumming around his fingers while you babbled incoherently. you seem to have turned the tide, whether you’re aware of it or not, hand sinking beneath the withered band of his boxers.

you don’t give him the relief he wants- needs- instantly. instead, you tease, fingertips dancing down the underside of his shaft and following the trail of a vein he doubts you’re even aware of. sliding back up to his tip, you revel in the weakness he displays as you brush over heightened nerves, sensitive to your touch and stained in earlier excitement.

“you’re warm,” is not exactly what he’d expected you to say, if he’s honest. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it, mind firing into overdrive as you fully wrap yourself around his cock. ignoring the chafing, you work your hand over him, grow familiar with the length of him, tip to base. “big.”

with your free hand, you do your best to peel back the layers of fabric till nothing stands in your path of gazing at his cock, heavy in your palm and red at the tip.

“yeah? ‘s bigger than you’re used to, ain’t it?” joel coos, you nod, tongue darting out to wet your lips as your eyes meet his. wide, glossy, intrigued, a mirror of the scared look you’ve worn when you’d stalled the car.

joel groans at the memory, the way he’d taken care of you, coaxed you back to a rational state of mind.

he wants more of that, more chances to protect you.

even if it’s against your own mind.

“‘s okay, sol, you’ll learn to take it,” you keen at his words, sinking closer to him, shoes scratching on the gravel beneath you. you squeeze your hand around him and he chokes on an inhale. “gonna teach ya to take it like a champ.”

he reaches behind him, tugging the gun out the back of his trousers. he was stupid to place it there in the first place, a rushed action he’d made when stepping out the vehicle. he hadn’t wanted you to see the weapon, to be reminded that the world outside bill and frank- the world joel resides in- is not safe, not from infected and certainly not from people.

before he can put it to rest on the hood, you snatch it out his hand.

you’re inspecting it like it’s the first you’ve ever seen, yet the way you perfectly wrap your hand around it and point past his shoulders tells him otherwise. there’s familiarity in your stance, like you’d once lived under rules where bill didn’t prohibit you from touching a firearm. it has him wondering, longing to know who you were before. where you’d come from, how you’d met the two men you share a roof with.

you play with the safety, snapping his attention right back to the present.

the sight of the gun in your hand fills him dread. and misery. and a sense of nausea. you’re far from weak, no matter how much he’d like you to be, but there’s just something fundamentally wrong with the image of you holding such a destructive weapon.

you should be holding otis’ lead. or a canvas depicting frank’s recent masterpiece. or the end of some wine bottle bill’s struggling to open.

or joel’s hand.

instead of speaking his mind, he pries it from you with a huff- from both of you- and lays it to rest somewhere towards his right, out of sight and out of mind. “‘s not some toy for a girl like you to be messin’ about with.”

“neither are you,” you make a point to rack your pretty nails over the untamed curls of his pubic hair, the occasional flash of silver a reminder of his aging state. you don’t seem to notice, or care, too busy bringing the attention back to his leaking tip.

a sound adjacent to a growl escapes him, feral and domineering. shame exists within him, for a moment, witnessing himself be at such a loss of control. when his hands find purchase on your waist, the feeling dissipates and what takes it’s place is pure adulterated need, throbbing in his very core.

he tugs you forward, closer, catching the way you’re struggling to reach him, hand gripping his thigh for support.

“y’gonna hurry on up ‘ere,” impatience punctuates the soul, driving him off the cliff of sanity and plunging head first into the rocky territories below. “or d’ya need me to do all the work? lay ya down, nice and pretty on the hood so i can fuck you?”

you deny his offer with actions, clambering your way into his lap, legs splayed out either side of his thighs. the skirt bunches awkwardly between you both and steals his view as you rest down against his stiffness and smother it in the warmth of your clothed cunt.

there’s dampness on your panties, teasing him as you give an experimental roll along his cock, holding it tight between both your bodies.

“shit, joel,” a hiss through your clenched teeth and your face twisting up in something- pain? arousal? both? he can’t quite pinpoint it. your hips roll again, this time reaching higher, teasing him with a visual of what’s to come. “feel so thick, don’t know how i’m gonna-”

“didn’t i already tell ya-” he grabs at your skirt, irritation clear in the way he rips it up the length of your legs, exposing your skin inch by inch. “you’re gonna learn to take it?”

your hand dives under the fabric before his can, fingers curling around his cock once again and giving him a salacious stroke, taking your time gliding over the smooth skin and sensitive head. “mhmm. you gonna teach me?”

he nods, affirmative.

the next few minutes are nothing but messy grinding. like a pair of hormone-crazed teens, you explore the joys of rubbing up on each other. two pieces of wet wood searching for that spark in between. you make the most effort, working the muscles in your thighs to slide up the length of him and to grind back down, the wet patch in your panties growing with each stroke. joel sits back, allows himself the rare luxury of being taking care of. the last time he had a pretty girl in his lap, she had solace in her eyes and a couple twenties stuffed down her sparkly bra.

“what d’ya bring me ‘ere for,” he’d berated his younger brother after, his anger seemingly coming across as unserious to a giggling tommy, “was fuckin’ depressin’. kept lookin’ at those girls and thinkin’ bout if their poor dads knew what they were up to.”

he can’t help but wonder if bill and frank know what you’re up to.

“hey, hey, wait,” the words tumble out of him erratically as he catches up to your actions, the hand around his cock suddenly holding it still as you raise your hips. his hands pull and grab at the fabric of your skirt, a frustrated grunt slipping out of him as he hoists it up past your waist. this time, you’re covered by a shade of baby blue cotton instead of lace, less sultry yet far more appealing in his eyes. comfortable, that’s what they look like, the kind of pair he’d find you wearing stood in a kitchen in the early hours of the morning, one of his wrinkled old t-shirts the only thing keeping your frame concealed. joel’d always had a good imagination, and it serves him well, decorating his mind with several images of a domestic bliss he’d never get to share with you. “lemme see.”

you’re a smart girl, it’s one of your best qualities, and so you need no further instructions to understand what joel’s asking for.

he watches like a hawk as your fingers tug your panties to one side, a pretty window of slick covered skin that has him involuntarily jutting his hips up off the truck, his head slipping up your seam and pressing into your clit, an action that sparks the reaction of your own hips grinding down. you recover quick, hand back on the task of gripping his base and holding him, while your over reaches back to grip his knee, giving you a grip to steady yourself on as you straighten your thighs.

“this what you want,” your voice calls through the lustful haze in his mind as he takes in the sight of you sinking down onto him, the head of his cock fitting snuggly between your velvet walls. it’s almost enough to make him cum on sight. “to watch? me sitting on your dick?”

joel wonders if you’re trying to shame his desires. ultimately, he’s too lost in the way you cling around him to really care. if anything, he almost wants you to be disgusted by him, making the act of devouring your pleasure that much more sinful.

hands grip at your hips, with moon-shape indents forming around where his nails dig into your flesh. patience is a virtue he scarcely possess but he forces it on himself, fighting back the need to slam you right down on him and carve a home out for his hot cum inside your empty womb. he can’t allow himself the fast-paced indulgence he’s used to, not when he sees the deep breaths you need to take or the pained wrinkle in your brow with each inch you sink deeper and deeper down on him with.

he let’s you take your time, eyes starring with a crazed expression at the point your bodies meet. once he’s fully nestled inside the warmth of your cunt, your forehead rests against his own and he’s forced to look into your eyes and once again notice the way your pupils sit dilated in lust.

it’s a sight he’d like to get used to.

“kinda regretting this,” dread plummets through his heart and a ball forms in his throat. your walls hold him in a vice grip that seems to contradict your statement, until you clarify. “thinking i could take it like this. i’ve never, you know, in this position before-”

“you’re doin’ great,” joel’s own voice sounds pained, straining beneath the buzzing energy that’s begging him to relinquish control to his lust. it would be so easy, effortless even, to grip your hips and fuck you down onto him like you’re nothing if not a hole to get himself off in. unfortunately, his heart stands in the way. “shit, fuckin’ better than great.”

neither of you keep time of how long you sit like that, pelvis to pelvis, his cock buried into the hilt and a puddle of your wetness collecting along his pubic bone, the bristle hairs providing a rough friction for your clit.

eventually, initiative is taken, and you work up the nerve to roll your hips.

the view he’d been enjoying is stolen as your skirt slips back down to pool around you both, his hands too occupied gripping at your waist as your own find home on his sturdy shoulders.

another roll of of your body, slow and steady, lighting every nerve in his cock on fire with the sweet burn of your cunt fighting to keep him inside, refusing to let him slip too far out before you’re filling yourself back up again. your lips fall open in a pathetic moan, the sweet smell of your breath hitting his nostrils as you sit forehead to forehead.

and joel wonders if there’ll ever be a part of you he’s not enamoured by.

your confidence grows as you begin to set a pace, bouncing yourself up and down in his lap as joel grips here, there and everywhere on your body. a pinch to your hardened nipples, a trace of your hidden thighs, a cradling of your face. there’s not an inch of you he wants to neglect, staining his fingerprints all over you with every frantic touch.

this is nothing like the back-alley exchanges of body heat he’s grown accustomed to, this is nothing rushed and everything felt. it’s a carnal hunger for the feel of flesh and the taste of sweat. it’s feral, and lustful, and downright intoxicating. it’s the need to get his fill of you over, and over, and over again, till the fountain of your velvet warmth overflows with his seed and has nowhere else to run but down the length of your full thighs and dripping onto his emptied balls below.

“joel, please,” he decides he likes you much better like this, your whole body gripping itself around him-arms, legs, soaked cunt- in search of a sweet salvation only he can bring as your usual bright smile and quick tongue become reduced to nothing but whimpered breaths and desperate prayers. “i’m- god, i can’t-”

your thighs tremble as he tightens his hold, keeping you steady when the exhaustion of exhilarating yourself on top of him begins to take a hold of you. the need to take over becomes primal, blunt nails tearing into the meat of your thighs and bouncing you down on him with an effortless look he hopes will fool you out of noticing he’s seconds away from blowing his load prematurely, mind and body too close to the edge of nirvana from simply having the weight of you on him.

he just needs to get you there first.

“hate this fucking skirt,” the grumble was meant to be a thought he keeps to himself, but the giggle it rouses out of you makes it worth the slip-up, your own hands delivering the mercy of helping him drag the length of it farther up, marking a clear path for his own to sneak under and find your pulsing clit. “don’t wear it again.”

a few tight circles with just the right amount of pressure has you melting deeper into him, your arms curling around him as your head lays itself to rest upon his shoulder. your every breath delivers a brush of heat against his already burning skin and he wishes there were no plaid shirts nor camisoles resting between your heartbeats. 

“but it’s so,” he must have struck gold, found some hidden gem in the combination of the pressure of his fingers on your clit and the rhythm at which he’s fucking you down onto his cock, for you clamp down on him so tightly he worries you may cut off his circulation. “soft and, oh, yes! and it- it fits me so perfectly-”

“not sure if you’re talkin’ bout your skirt or your pussy,” he grunts out, a teasing smirk on his mouth that dies the instance his lips press to your neck, nose chasing the scent of your lingering shampoo.

“you’re so-” he’s so, what? you don’t get to finish, hand fisting into his hair and moans falling from your lips like autumn leaves. 

“tsk, look at ya,” he certainly is, and loving every inch of you he sees, hips rolling down with the guidance of his hands, head tucked safely away from the world in the crook of his neck, hands gripping any part of him they seem to reach. if art is subjective, then you’re the damned mona lisa, the starry night, the birth of venus. “can’t even fuckin’ speak properly, mouth’s good for nothin’ when you’re full of cock.”

you nod into him, hips moving faster, nails digging deeper, moans getting louder. he’s got you so close, a few more thrusts till he’s sure to have you flying off the handles and cumming around him.

you whine his name.

he meets the roll of your hips with the raising of his own.

a pull of hair, a bite of skin, and then you’re-

“oh shit, ain’t this a pretty sight.”

joel’s blood runs cold.

you’re frozen against him.

just past your shoulder, directly in joel’s eye-line, by the gas station’s entry stands a man. he’s younger than joel, maybe even younger than you. his clothes are stained in all sorts- sweat, dried blood, mud- and are tattered, as if he’s been wearing the same thing everyday. the strap of a backpack sits over one shoulder and he seems to be carrying no weapons but the hunting knife in his belt.

the intruder- if he can even be called that out in the openness of the world- takes a couple steps closer but they’re not full of confidence. if anything, his frame seems just as shaken as you both, fingers fidgeting with the adjustable cord of the bag’s strap.

“please, don’t stop on my account,” he seems to be trying to play it cool, but fails to let out the light-hearted chuckle he intends to, a noise more similar to a choke taking its place. “heck, give me a little performance even”

joel’s not sure what’s gotten into him- if it’s the fact he’d been moments away from making you cum, or the dropping temperatures that have you sinking deeper into his warm body, or the sheer desire to possess you so intimately under someone else’s knowledge- but he finds himself rutting up into you again.

you don’t join in, limbs still locked in shocked, yet a moan is breathed into his neck.

“shit, man,” the stranger sounds amazed, as if not even he thought joel would gift him such a sight. his hands find something new to fidget with, struggling to undo the buckle of his tattered leather belt. “pull up her skirt, lemme see how she’s taking you.”

he obliges and bunches the fabric up in his hands, exposing the sight that lays beneath. it’s not the explicit sight the man must be hoping for, the snug fit of his cock inside your cunt mostly concealed by your pushed-aside panties.

unable to stop himself, joel wonders if this man would prefer you in something more scandalous than the blue cotton that he so deeply adores.

“sorry- fuck! just, it’s just been a while,” the buckle comes undone at last, a button and a zipper follow. one hand dips beneath the waist band of the man’s boxers. “swear i’m not trynna be a creep, or nuffin’. can you... could you squeeze her ass? wanna see how much of a hand full she is.”

this time around, you let out a sound that’s less pleasant to joel’s ears, a far cry from pleasured as he so greedily cups a handful of your ass. the realisation that, though your body may contradict you with the canting of your hips into his or the continued arousal you drip between your pelvises, you’re not enjoying this, hits him like a truck.

you’re not moaning in pleasure, you’re whimpering in fear. you’re not shaking because you’re cold, you’re shaking because you’re scared. this man is scaring you.

joel is letting him scare you.

“swear i’ll just- a few minutes and i’ll be out your hair, ok?” the man’s fumbling, bag dropping off his shoulder down onto the floor as he works over his cock. joel wonders if it’s uncomfortable, stroking himself without the help of spit to ease the slide, and scoots his hand over to his right, fingers slipping over the hood in search. “just really need this, man, you’ve no idea how it gets out here on your own-”

nothing usually crosses joel’s mind when he pulls a trigger.

becoming numb to it, blanking one’s mind, treating it as normal. it’s the only way to come out the other side of it without it weighing on your conscious. it was built over time, the first few months a struggle to even touch a gun after what happened on outbreak day. shooting humans had always been the easy part, reminding himself there’s an evil in them he doesn’t need to meet to know it exists. the infected, he’d struggled, compassion sinking deep into the pit of his stomach as he’d glance at their once-alive eyes, now nothing but a breeding ground for some mushroom.

the shot rings out, moments after the bullet hits its target and, this time, you cross his mind.

defenceless, shaking, clinging onto him. it’s shameful to admit that it turns him on, has his balls throbbing with unloaded cum, to protect you. to play the role of saviour, supporter, guardian to the fearful girl in his lap.

he doesn’t even care enough to spare the dead man a look, eyes back on you.

you’re already staring right back at him, shock written all over your face. “you... you killed him.”

“he was holdin’ a gun, sol,” he’s not sure if it makes you feel any better. you do, however, seem to shuffle closer to him, chest to chest as you take in what he’s telling you. “was gonna fire a few rounds into me and then where would that leave ya, huh? free for the taken.”

thunder roars above your heads.

your brows furrow, conflictive expressions taking over you while you assess what’s just happened. he tries not to think too much about the fact his cock is still very much nestled inside your soaked pussy, throbbing with the impending release life keeps stealing away from you both.

“you killed him.” you repeat, more sure in your words this time.

“i did.”

lightning lights up the darkening sky.

“i should be scared of you.”

“you should.”

one last rumble from the storm clouds.

“but i’m not.”

the heavens above seem to open as cold, thick drops of water fall from the sky, quickly soaking everything they meet. the gravel, his shirt, your hair. the rain seems to have no boundaries, slipping between you both and filling the little gaps it manages to find.

neither of you move from where you’re seated, letting the cold overtake your bodies. you both use it as an excuse to move closer, arms tangling around one another as you stare each other down with judgement, assessing what either will do next.

you call the shots, experimentally rolling your hips, testing the waters to see where he’s at.

joel meets you just where you want him to, touches more frantic than before and far more sloppy, neither of you conscious of the goosebumps that line your skins as you indulge in one another’s bodies, fucking beneath the pouring rain like some silly scene out of a romance film.

“i was protectin’ you,” he breathes onto your neck, mouthing at your flesh and enjoying the thudding of your pulse beneath his tongue. “keepin’ you safe, sol. ‘s what i do, what i’ll always do.”

it’s unclear if the words are meant to assure you or himself.

it doesn’t take long till you’re both back at the edge of glorious relief, the unmet orgasms from earlier rearing their heads all at once and flooding over both of you. one of his hands snakes it’s way under your skirt to rub at your clit, while one of your own threads itself in his hair and tugs sharply, till he feels a sting in his scalp.

what a sight it is to behold as you cum, eyes rolled back, lips parted in a mute scream, soaked hair sticking to your forehead and every other place it touches. joel wants to see you through to the very end, hold you while you shake and break completely on his cock, but the warmth that creeps up his loins takes that priviledge away.

only as the first spurt of thick cum shoots out of him does joel manage to rip you off him, jostling you further up his lap and providing him with the friction of your ass cheeks to sooth over his spasming member as he paints your lower back and inner skirt in his pleasure.

he watches you falling apart in the heat of your orgasm and his bones ache a little less, his soul feels a little lighter, his heart seems to beat a little better.

joel never manages to put his thoughts into words quite properly.

“you’re not,” he breaths out, shaky. you’re still rutting against his limp cock, soaking him with your slick and whimpering into his shoulder as his head bumps against your aching clit, the come down from your orgasm hitting you harder than his. he’s vaguely aware of how tightly he’s gripping you, arms holding you flush, anchoring you down against him as the rain continues to pour. “you’re not real.”

you’re mumbling something but it falls on deaf ears as joel fails to reel his thoughts in, eyes skittish as they jump from watching water crash against the windows of the deserted gas station to the limp body of the stranger, cock still in his hand and a bullet straight through his forehead, a sick red washing away along the gravel.

“...here. i’m real, joel,” a kiss pressed to his forehead. you’re gentle with him, whispering into his good ear and he wonders if you know he can hear you better on this side, he’d never mentioned it. a hand coaxes his own off your waist and guides it upwards, pressing against the left side of your chest. rapid thumps. you mimic the movement, hand pressing against his own heart as you rest your forehead against his. “i’m here. we’re both here.”

joel drives back.

there’s no prior discussion where you agree on this. he simply cleans you both up- to the best of his abilities-, sits you down in the passengers seat and walks his way round to the driver’s side. it’s silent, and this time it’s the uncomfortable kind. the kind that wrestles with his mind and puts discomfort in his heart. there’s something unspoken between you both and he does not know how to begin to talk about it, not without the risk of messing it all up.

you don’t protest this time around when he turns on one of bill’s old cd’s, and, so, billy joel sings you all the way home.

at some point, he convinces himself you’ve fallen prey to sleep, eyes closed and head slumped to the side, searching for the safety of something to rest itself on. slowing to a stop, he takes his time undoing your seatbelt and maneuvering your lax limbs till your head meets his shoulder. the drive onwards is slower, more careful as he drives over any bump in the road and each turning he takes less sharp.

“i owe you a thank you,” you eventually mumble, weight still leaning against him and eyes very much shut.

he nods, though you do not see it. “okay.”

it’s all he can think to say, unsure what a girl like you could ever thank him for. all he’s done since the moment he met you is dampen your shine and stain your kindness with rough hands and a rougher heart.

“for, you know, not telling tess,” your response brings more questions than answers. not telling tess what? “i just... she’d hate me, if she knew, and she’s some of the only family i have left. i couldn’t stand to lose her over a few... mistaken moments between us.”

joel wonders if he’s part of this short list of family you have.

he doubts it.

“don’t see why she’d care,” he’s choosing to ignore that word, mistaken, yet it’s not enough to stop his fingers from twisting tighter around the wheel, tension in his wounded heart.

“of course you wouldn’t,” you wrestle down a yawn and nestle your head deeper into the crook of his neck, body hunched in a position he can’t imagine to be too comfortable. he keeps this thought to himself, decidedly enjoying this false image of tender touch. you ground him, weight down on his paper-thin mind-state like a rock that promises to keep all his pages in place. “you’re careless.”

there you go again, displaying such casual cruelty.

you’re careless.

how twisted life is to give him everything he’s worked so hard to be- a man feared, untested, unmessed with- only for his every want become his waking nightmare as it sits on your own lips.

i don’t like you, joel.

“‘s that why ya don’t like me?” he can’t help himself, even if he wanted to.

“i don’t like you because you-” a pull of breath. an opening of eyes. a raise of a head. you don’t make it far before he’s raising a hand off the wheel to encourage you back down to rest upon him, half-worrying he’ll be strown apart by the next gust of wind should he lose the weight of your head on his shoulder. “i can’t tell you.”

“why not?”

“you never brought me that dress.”

there’s no answer he can give that won’t incriminate him and steer you on the clear path to see just how caring a man like him can be. every fabric he’s seen the wrong colour, the wrong length, the wrong style for you. the closest he’d gotten to finding a dress worthy enough of slipping down your skin was stripped from the corpse of a woman joel’d been tasked with disposing of. in a moment of weakness, he’d nearly taken it, till his skin began to crawl with the implications of gifting you a dead woman’s dress, the last piece of clothing she’d worn while her blood was still warm and her lungs filled with air.

you fall asleep, for real this time, not even stirring as he maneuvers himself out of his jacket and drapes it over your damp figure, body sinking deeper into his own- as deep as the console between you allows.

night has taken hold of the sky by the time he pulls into the fenced community, headlights lighting up the path back into the garage. pulling the car to a stop, joel eases your weight off him and steps out the car, mindful of how he closes the door over. he makes his way around to the passenger side and pries the door open to find you still sleeping, peaceful as can be, the dull army green of his jacket contrasting the pastel shade of your skirt.

he takes a moment, sinking to his knees, and let’s himself indulge in the image of you like this a little longer, before the watchful eyes of bill or the curious glances of tess stand between the ways joel longs to look at you. softness greets his thumb as it brushes over your cheek. you seek out his warmth, chasing it even as he moves downwards to swipe at the dribble of spit threatening to spill out your slacked lips.

if he were a better liar, perhaps he’d claim this was his way of attempting to wake you up.

“what happened?” frank is the first to greet him, eyes blown a little wider than usual as he takes in the sight of you curled against joel, one arm round your back and another under your knees keeping the weight of you off the ground. “is she okay?”

“nothin’s happened,” the man’s reactions to joel’s return to the house has brought on more pairs of eyes, tess and bill flooding out the kitchen to catch a glimpse of him in the hallway. “she’s just tired. ‘s been a long day and-”

“your clothes are wet.” bill’s eyes are glaring, tearing apart every detail they can pick up: the gentle grip he holds you with, your sweater thrown over his shoulder, the peaceful manner in which your sleeping form sinks into his warmth, the jacket that’s slowly slipping down your form to reveal bare shoulders and soaked cotton.

his tongue feels heavy, his mouth turning to sandpaper as the anxious feeling of being watched dries up his senses. hardly aware of it, he’s straightening his spine and puffing his chest, staring the older man down before flickering over to where tess stands, face much kinder looking as she watches you sleep. “you just gonna stand there, or are ya gonna show me her room ‘fore my back gives out?”

that seems to get the ball rolling, all questioning and staring left behind as frank guides him three doors down and slips the door open, stepping aside to let joel in. he doesn’t bother hitting the light, a part of him not wanting to pick up any details to linger on around your room, using what little light the moon provides to find his way over to the bed. frank’s gaze is burning a hole in joel’s back even as he drops you down onto the mattress, and it’s almost like he can hear the buzz of energy radiating from everything the man wants to ask him.

it’s not till the four of them sit the dining table and joel’s shovelling a fork-load of food into his mouth that the next question comes.

“why was her sweater dry?” it’s tess who asks, punctuating it with an obnoxious sip from her glass.

all eyes are on Joel, a spotlight she’d shun directly on him and leaving him on display. bill, in particular, seems to be clinging to his every movement, anticipating his answer with the clenching of fingers around the steak knife in his hand.

“what?” it’s all he can manage without the fear of saying too much.

“your clothes were all wet. but her sweater, on your shoulder, it was dry.”

how had tess even noticed that?

“she took it off,” it takes a couple minutes to answer, a pause he tries to play off as simply his need to chew on the food he shovels into his mouth at last. it feels heavy, slipping down his throat, like he can already anticipate it’s return to the surface alongside his bile. “said somethin’ bout not wantin’ to get oil on it when i told her i was gonna show her the different parts of the engine.”

silence.

eyes shooting back and forth.

tess looks at frank.

frank looks at bill.

bill loathes at joel.

and then, “oh.”

tess says it like it’s the start of a sentence, an audible ellipses that she’s refusing to elaborate on.

“oh.” joel parrots, hoping they’ll drop the topic and allow him to go back to the raging waters thrashing around in his thoughts.

luck is not on his side.

“that makes sense,” the woman continues, attempting to cut the tension with an airy chuckle and a shrugging of her shoulders, as if doing so will shake the tension out of everyone else’s. “was worried that poor girl was running around with her tits out in front of the likes of you.”

bill grips tighter around his cutlery, knuckles white under the dining room light.

straightening up, a momentary lapse of judgement and a foolish flash of red hot possession shoots over him, embarking him on the road to saying perhaps the dumbest thing he’s ever said.

“would that be so bad?”

a hand smacks down on the table. a chair scrapes, another following right after.

“bill,” frank’s tone is nothing if not a warning, hand on the man’s forearm as he soothes his thumb over his skin.

“it’s late,” it comes after a deep breath, the kind a shrink would teach you to use in times of stress, or fear, or anger. bill isn’t even acknowledging tess, fully focused on joel. “you should get going.”

plates half full, bellies half empty, the four of them step away from the table. tess slips on a jacket, one she’d not had prior to arriving, and passes joel a loaded bag. he figures she must have had her pick around the old clothes shop, loitering whatever was left that could either fit them or keep them warm through the remainder of the cold months.

he throws it over his shoulder without question.

the air has shifted, a tense feeling floating around the atmosphere that exists between him and bill. tess and frank are seemingly unaware of it, laughing and talking amongst themselves as the group makes their way to the front door.

joel is the last to step out and, in doing so, he pauses, glancing backwards into the open doorway. 

he calls out to tess, all three heads turn.

“need a piss.”

“take your time,” it’s the friendlier of the two men who responds, threading his arm around bill’s and dragging him along with him. it reminds him of why he likes frank more. “we’ll walk tess to the gate.”

he watches the three figures fade away into the dark of the street, carefully stepping back into the house once he feels the safety of distance. he tries to keep his footsteps light, suddenly aware of how quiet the place feels without the panting of a dog or the rustling of someone in the kitchen. he counts the doors as he goes- one, two, three- and turns the handle of the third.

the room is still dark, but that’s okay. he’s used to darkness. his eyes carefully scan the floor with each step he takes closer to the bed, watching out for any discarded dog toy or worn clothing splayed across it. at some point, his steps meet carpet instead of cold floor. he’d not noticed it earlier, but then his sense had been rather focused on the precious cargo he carried.

he finds you where he left you, hair a mess upon your pillow and chest rising steadily in the breaths of deep sleep. only, you’ve gained a companion, the unmistakeable beady-eyed stare of the german shepherd meeting joel’s in the dark. the dog makes a noise, half whimper half whine, and the tip of its bushy tail begins to beat against the mattress, matching the rhythm of joel’s heart.

like before, he lets his hand brush your cheek. instead of wiping saliva, he brushes a few stray hairs away from your peaceful face. you shift and he panics, fearful you’ve awakened, only to relax as you sink deeper into the pillow.

his hand lingers longer than necessary.

another whine from the mutt gives him the will to at last pull away from you, trading your soft cheek for the smooth fur along the dog’s head. his fingers card through it, nails digging a little to scratch at otis’ scalp.

“you take care of her,” for me. “alright bud?”

he must be losing his mind, for he swears he feels the dog nod.

the steps he takes on his way out are less careful, though he’s slowed by the amount of times he seems to insist on turning back to glance at the bed. maybe it’s for comfort, the peace of mind of knowing he’d brought you back safe and sound.

maybe it’s with longing, his aching joints begging for him to crawl his way in beside you, cocooning you between himself and the ball of fluff behind you.

shaking his head, an array of self-aimed insults plough through his mind, joel curls his hand around the wooden frame of the door, steadying himself to glance back one last time.

“joel...” he freezes, caught in place. how long have you been awake? how do you know it’s him? how are you so softly spoken when your voice is hoarse?  “turn the lamp on,” a yawn. he hears rustling and imagines you readjusting yourself into whichever position brings you most comfort. the thought of if it ever gets lonely, sleeping with no one to hold, crosses his mind. he refuses to let it linger. “don’t wanna wake up to the dark.”

he shuffles over to where he sees the outline of a lamp, fingers sliding around in the dark till they hit a switch and a lovely orange hue overtakes the room, bringing it to life. little trinkets, scattered papers, a couple pictures in frames line the desk in front of him. he’s seen too much for comfort, avoiding looking at anything else in your space till he finds you, curled up in the bed too big for one, otis’ head resting on your hip.

you still have his jacket over you, ignoring the warm comforter you lay upon.

he thinks he musters up a smile. if he does, you’re returning it, eyes sleepy and lips lazy in their movement. it’s a peaceful moment, the kind joel doesn’t get many- if any- of these days. he won’t waste it by speaking what’s on his mind. your eyes slowly drop once more, surrendering to exhaustion.

the bedroom door creaks behind him on the way out.

[devilruin]

【 Please note! 】 ⎯⎯⎯ Please remember to look at each author's do not interact criteria and blog rules before interacting with them! Also, please check each work for specific tags!

if a link to a piece is :

⛧ ⋅  italicized ― it contains explicit content

⛧ ⋅  bold ― it contains dark content

⛧ ⋅  italicized and bold ― it contains both dark and explicit content

✧ @smalltasteofhoney ― biscuit radiates this warm and fluffy kind of energy, and her words flow like honey (hehe...), i love seeing her pop up on my dash sm! whenever i read a piece from her, i always wonder 'how did she know they'd do that?'

personal picks : yandere vil thoughts (a crooked crown really does look so pretty on him) , "you just don't know what's good for you" with vil (ouch, right in the feels...) , which twisted wonderland characters would babytrap their darling? (not pictured: me nodding me head and going "oh yeah, he'd do that") , what to expect in bed with the twisted wonderland boys? (adore all of these and completely agree!) , yandere gojo thought (i bet his darling rejoices while he's gone) , and some lilia brainrot (why is it that whenever he smiles, a chill runs up my spine?)

✧ @sugoscurry ― i love sugo's characterization so much! her lilia makes me absolutely feral and i think i've reread her alizarin series at least a few dozen times... she's got a great sense of humor too, and i have found myself wheezing at her author notes more than a few times (dios mio chicos always gets me)

personal picks : alizarin with lilia (the og lilia fuckers bedtime story) , alizarin crimson (sorry reader, i think you're doomed) , alizarin crimson hue (poor reader... i told you so) , petplay oneshot with crewel (bark bark woof woof) , explicit staff headcanons (best idea, take them all on) , general yandere staff headcanons (did you know that power and control go hand in hand?) , explicit disaomnia headcanons (maleficent sure knows how to pick them) , milf-maker with childe (he'd do anything to get his prize) , “you’ve been so good lately, my pet. don’t make me have to punish you.” with crewel (immediately wagging my non-existent tail at supersonic speed) , “you don’t even know how lucky you are. I protect you and provide for you. don’t act so ungrateful.” with crowley (well eXcuSE me then) , yandere incubus malleus (the only dream demon who i'd wake up for) , and who in nrc has a virginity kink? (corruption tastes so perfect late at night)

✧ @uvobreakmylegs ― if i could bottle up the sun and gift it to pika, i would. unfortunately i cannot, so i must settle with simply singing my praises about their superb writing. the setting of the scene, the interactions between characters, the descriptions of every twinge of emotion, everything is delicately crafted with their skilled hands, and all i can do is stare in awe.

personal picks : set pattern with hisoka (pure trashy clown behavior right here, it's perfect) , right place, right time with illumi (featuring the troupe is such a fun touch, i love the witty banter and mind games between illumi and chrollo!) , last day out with chrollo (goodbye sunlight...it was nice while it lasted) , hypnagogia with illumi (i can just imagine him letting out a breath of relief once he sees darling alive, only for his expression to immediately change to an eerily blank slate) , with greatest care with pakunoda (she's both cloyingly sweet and bitterly dark when it comes to her darling) , and the sixth floor game with shalnark (this honestly feels like it could be a real game and just the thought of playing it gives me the chills)

✧ @wri0thesley ― nat is a lovely person and deserves the whole world (with some free clothes of their choice) ! i come back to their works all the time, and love reading some of their longer works before bed! their writing sucks me in and makes it difficult for me to pull my eyes away from my screen!

personal picks : midnight musings with dottore and pantalone (all the trouble with double the pleasure) , dead & young & fair with diluc (another absolute top-tier vampire diluc work, i love how reader's relationship with diluc evolves through the piece) , dottore torturing diluc's captured wife (he would be this nasty, wouldn't he?) , pierro age gap (i'd happily turn into a sinner for this man nya) , everything that a big bad wolf could want with toji (brb gotta reapply my lip balm and fix my bunny dress) , kaeya with a hand and choking kink (the idea of there being a difference between the feel of his more calloused sword hand and his smoother non-dominant hand is sending me) , kaeya with a clumsy maid darling (don't mind me i'm just twirling my hair and giggling at the idea of going "oops, i sooo didn't mean to drop this plate in front of you" to him while bending over) , pulling on diluc's hair (i bet it would be so soft...) , wedding rings with toji (third wife status never looked so tempting...) , the machinist and the faerie with gojo (grade-a gojo right here! plus the faerie lore! the world-building! the characters!!! everything is put together so well, i really adore this piece) , and favorite (so far) with toji (do you hear that? it's my corruption kink popping off the walls)

✧ @wyvernne ― wyvernne is an absolute beast (in terms of both quantity and quality) when it comes to writing! when i first stumbled upon her vampire diluc work, i read it all in one setting, and it took me over an hour to finish (and i'm a fast reader!) it was totally worth all the tears and missed sleep!

personal picks : [links are to her works on ao3] for reasons wretched and divine with diluc (imho, this is THE vampire diluc work) , sometimes, all i think about is you with childe (he's such a fucking tease, the little shit) , and black hearted angels sunk me with kisses on my mouth with kaeya (he's so cruel and yet so lovely)

✧ @yandere-romanticaa ― ana is a collector of all things yandere, and her blog shows it! i love her red + black color scheme, and her aesthetic is always on point! she's a wonderful person and i have a hard time not falling in love with her lovely personality (especially when paired with her jokes!) sadly she does not have a masterlist, however just scrolling through her archive (with tags filtered) works too!

personal picks : yandere malleus draconia (who knew a pouty lizard could be so cute) , some thoughts on kaeya's flirtatiousness (i also agree that he's pretty damn guarded) , lilia vanrouge's yandere alphabet (gotta love me an ancient fae that can't cook to save a life!) , and yandere diluc headcanons (blushy, stuttering, yandere mess diluc!)

if you would like to be removed from this list, please let me know!

© 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧 — 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝟏𝟏-𝟏𝟑-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

[wisecreatorprofessorwolf]

Such A Good Boy, Who's a Good boy.

I haven't written much recently. I've had a lot to deal with recently healthwise, I'm hoping to post a bit more often. Possibly during the week too.

todays post will be for Jeff Sadecki from Yellowjackets. I'm hoping to write a lot of stories about this babygirl and his fondest times with YN and their kinky adventures.

so this fic is inspired but an ask I sent anonymously to fortheb0ys, I'd recently gotten into Yellowjackets from reading their work, and I was quickly hooked

Now the thing about Jeff, was he didn't get to explore kinks or try new things in the bedroom with his ex wife Shauna, that was until he met YN.

Jeff learned that he was into a lot of different kinks. Jeff thinks about the time he tried Puppy play.

FLASHBACK

While YN was at his company meeting, Jeff knew YN hated company meetings of any kind so he decides he's going to try and make YN's day just a bit better. He wanders around their shared private property naked most of the time, because he's a good boy and wants to make his boyfriend happy.

he reaches a dark room containing some of their special collection of toys and gear, their growing collection ranging from the sex swings, to the floggers. Jeff reaches to dog hoods and dog tail dildos, he longs long and hard over each one, till he decides on the just a simple golden retriever eared headband, and the matching dildo, which was one of the thickest but Jeff wasn't worried about the stretch or pain, he liked it, especially YN's thickness.

Jeff slides the toy in with ease and sits the headband on his head.

Now Jeff waits eagerly on his hands and knees. once YN arrives he instantly perks up at the sight before him. Jeff cutely waiting for him.

"Awww what a good boy" Jeff taps his hands on the ground and woofs. suddenly preening and howling when YN's hand strokes his hair.

"Who's my good boy?" Jeff intantly barks and nestles his head against YN's thigh " YN begins to walk towards the couch loosening his tie as Jeff follows and sits between YN's legs, head resting on YN's thigh as they lock eyes.

"bad day at work pup, but you always make it better baby" YN leans down to kiss Jeffs forehead then tilts his head up to kiss his lips. The kiss was messy and passionate as Jeff lapped up the attention. As the kiss parts YN shows Jeff the tie all Jeff did was nod furiously, knowing were this was going.

"Ok pup now for the collar" YN wraps his tie round Jeffs neck, Jeff suddenly buries his face in YN's pants lapping at the bulge.

"What a good boy, you know exactly what to do don't ya?" Jeff nods against YN's bulge "Ok pup you can have ya treat just let me remove my pants." Jeff ignores YN and grips the zipper between his teeth and drags it down looking directly into YN's lust blown eyes, with that YN removed his pants, Jeff slid them away. All that was left were the underwear, Jeff rubbed his face all over the heated fabric inhaling YN's scent, that raw musk was like a drug to him. Jeff begins pawing over YN's underwear "Ok i get the hint baby I'm removing them now" and with that YN removed them finally YN. Jeff finally had access to his treat he began with featherlight licks over the prominent vein and licked up to the tip, licking over the slit, taste buds bursting with the sweet and salty taste of YN's precum. Jeff's eyes almost roll at the taste, licking harder till with out warning suddenly swallows YNs cock whole lips stretched around YN's thick hardness, tongue twisting and flicking over the sensitive appendage lapping every drop of pre that is released.

YN's hands stroke Jeffs hair from his face "Such a good boy, your my good boy" Jeffs eyes roll back as YN begins face fucking him moaning and gagging around YN's cock, till tears pricked his eyes, Jeff enjoys this the strain of his jaw as he gets used like a toy. soon drool is just leaking from the seams of Jeff's lips, all of a sudden Jeff's head is held down all the way and feels a thickness explode as he's raised up that is when he fully tastes that sweet tangy cum he's become addicted to, filling his mouth, shooting rope after rope over his tongue, Jeff's eye roll yet again from the taste alone, there really nothing quite like it. jeff settles with the tip of YN's cock in his mouth licking over it, cleaning it. YN strokes Jeffs sweaty hair and removes the headband "You're such a good boy Jeff" Jeff whines when YN removes the headband "It's ok puppy you're my good boy ill put it back on now" which YN does to Jeff's relief, he then pulls away from YN's cock and turns away and lowers his head and raises his his ass presenting himself. With that YN felt himself harden, all that could be heard were Jeffs moans and whines as he shakes his ass.

Till YN's larges hands hold him in place, massaging Jeff's ass watching as his hole is sucking the dildo, with a firm tug YN removes the toy without warning causing Jeff to cum across the floor with a whorish moan, Jeff looks over his shoulder to see YN's dark predatory eyes boring into his body like he was prey, he quickly looks away as YN stares intently on Jeffs pucker twitching and fluttering as he breathes, suddenly Jeff moans when he feels YN's tongue over his entrance the wetness of YN's tongue as it glides over the rim and into his puckering hole caused Jeff to throw his hands back over YN's head. YN remained in Jeffs grip using Jeff's moans as guidance.

YN tapped Jeffs hands to release him, Jeff's hole now with a slick shine to it was more than ready for YN's cock, with that in mind YN gave himself a few extra tugs. Slowly YN slides his cock inside Jeff, causing him to throw his hips back on YN's cock, moaning desperately, wanting more. YN began to pick up the pace and increasing the roughness meeting Jeffs trust backs.

all that could be heard were moans, panting and skin slapping, Jeff almost choked as his head his pulled up by the tie he almost forgot he was wearing. How could he forget the tie YN wrapped round him as a leash. Jeff chocked being raised up to meet the hot chest of YN feeling YN lick, suck and bite his sensitive neck, he turns to heatedly kiss YN their heated passion boiling over it was all so much, that Jeff came again causing a small puddle to have formed on the floor. As the kiss breaks YN bites harshly into Jeff's neck causing a faint metalic taste of blood to hit his tongue but Jeff suddenly tightens up milking YN for all he had as hot thickness fills him to the brim.

YN slowly kisses the bite " you are such are good boy Jeff, Who's a good boy?" Jeff face down tilts his head to look at YN " Woof I'm the good boy" with that YN gives Jeff's ass a light spank and pulls his cock out to the mesmerizing sight of Jeff's gaped cream filled hole.

Jeff whines suddenly from the emptiness but also when YN lifts him about effortlessly to the couch, YN sensed this times like this Jeff wanted to stay in the moment as long as possible so he sat down and lowered Jeff's loose dripping hole down on to his cock causing Jeff to moan and nuzzle closer to YN's heated body. Snug and plugged with YN.

Feel free to like, repost and leave comments.

if you would like to suggest any kinks you want me to write for this babygirl leave them in the comments, I have a few in mind already but I'll happily take some suggestions too.

[wgc-productions]

I don't know if you listen to @meteorcitypod but if you don't you should. The premise is that local ball of tension, Bianca Diaz, returns to her hometown, Detroit, which was the site of a massive meteor strike a decade ago.

Premise:

The city is pretty bombed out, and Old Detroit (or Meteor City) is experiencing a wave of gentrification as an organization named New Detroit Financial buys property and turns it into nice shiny buildings that people want.

Characters

Bianca Diaz: Oh, Bianca. What can I say?? She is always going through it which sucks for her but is great for me as a listener. I'm in Season 2 now which, woof. When I say she is going through a lot I mean it. But the writing makes it so it never feels like dreary or overwhelming. Also, Bianca has that tenacity that I love in my protagonists. She believes in Truth and Justice and she will fight tooth and nail to make sure that those values get to continue in the world. She sees the value that Old Detroit has and she wants to fight for that world and for the rights of the people who were left behind after the meteor hit. She's wants to be a hero so bad, and I want that for her too. Also, terrible taste in romantic partners. Hate that for her.

Wes: Tall, Dark, and Emotionally Unavailable, Wes is our male lead. He was the best friend of Malcolm, Bianca's brother who died in the meteor shower, and he also had a crush on Bianca when they were kids. Boy oh boy, did that crush only grow! Trust and believe, Wes is not going to let his wife keep him from the love of his life. I'm being unfair to him, and their attachment can be very endearing, I just don't like that he keeps so many IMPORTANT secrets. I mean, you fake your death for 10 years, that's a lot to work past romantically, but the heart wants what it wants. If I wasn't such a Bianca-stan I'd like him more.

D: As of episode 7 of season 2 D has done no wrong in my eyes. At the very least she has done no worse than anybody else. She is a comforting presence who is has a diner that is one of the last remnants of Old Detroit and she is sort of a representation to Bianca of everything good about Meteor City. Serves a great role to the plot. Very useful.

There are a lot more characters but because the show has a mystery going on I don't want to give too much away. For example, there's a person stalking Bianca in the first couple of episodes that is pretty important. There's some more characters further in that are signification but explaining why would muddle the experience. You know how it goes.

Special Notes:

Each episode there are these songs interspersed and those are actual songs but indie artists which I think is the coolest thing! I think incorporating these experiences adds a certain aesthetic to the show that make it distinct from lots of the other "creepy sci-fi" audio dramas that are around.

[dawnrider]

Hey there love! Here for the ask game. ☺️

💋✨❌🙋‍♀️👀

Hi @heynikkiyousofine! Fanfic Writers Emoji Asks 💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em? Love love love em! The dynamics that lead up to a first kiss are so much fun to read and to write!

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

Woof... Um... I think my writing can do a good job of conveying emotion to the reader? At least that's what I gather from reader comments. And I tend to hear that my characterizations are pretty on point, which is a pretty awesome compliment in my opinion.

❌ What’s a trope you will never write? I hate to say NEVER, but probably truly dark non-con. It's just not within my capabilities and I would struggle with it too hard to even attempt it.

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

My husband, my therapist, and most recently my best friend of almost 25 years. She was shocked I had managed to keep it a secret from her for 20 years. 😂

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Hm... Let's see. I have... too many. lol I'm working on my @inu-spiration Halloween Reverse Bang piece, which is beating me up. It's over 18k words now and not as close to done as I would like... But I can't reveal details about that one yet. I CAN talk about the fact that I've been working on the next chapters of both How Does Your Garden Grow? and Your Lying Smile.

I'm also working on the next chapter of By Rights, but that won't go up until @inuparentsday in January. For funsies, here's a snippet of that! (Under the cut for spoilers)

Dinner was uncomfortable at best. Touga tried to simultaneously watch his "rival" and act as though he had no interest in him whatsoever. It was more challenging than one might think. Subtly was not really his forte and neither was small talk. He could make pleasantries when needed — and conversation with someone he wanted to speak with was fine — but pretending to be cordial with two men he would much prefer to punch in the face was pushing his limits. Izayoi’s father was making a point to inflate Takemaru’s ego – as if the man needed any more arrogance – and trying to make Izayoi see his many advantages as a husband. Were he not able to catch her scent, he would know from the look in her eyes alone that she was only more and more disgusted with the whole situation as the meal progressed. He too was becoming increasingly frustrated with the flagrant favoritism and ego-stroking. But he held his tongue and simply spoke to Izayoi when appropriate, or commented on “how impressive” the new lordling’s holdings were. “Izayoi, my dear,” Takemaru crooned in a saccharine tone. “The kitchen staff cannot wait to make this for you when you arrive.” He waved a hand and a highly anxious server sidled up next to her with a small platter with some kind of sweet on it. A pastry of some kind, it appeared, filled with something. He could smell it from where he sat, but couldn���t identify the ingredients. “Exotic chocolate from trading with the islands.” “It looks very nice,” she spoke politely to the server, “but I am so full from our delicious meal, I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.” Touga bit his lip to hold back a smirk. She’d hardly touched her food, sneaking what she could get away with to her father’s dogs under the table. He didn’t like that she wasn’t eating, but he understood her lack of appetite. Even he felt the lingering “wrongness” in the air and it was unsettling to him. He hadn’t anticipated that Izayoi would be able to sense it – her father certainly didn’t seem to – but she was noticeably antsy in a way he was not used to seeing in her. She definitely never acted that way in his presence.

[mixes-archive]

I just saw your recent post, and you said you wish people would request other characters, especially fem characters, so it’s my time to shine🤩. I would like to request a NSFW fic with "Kleo" from COD; she’s an operator. I don’t have any specific ideas for the plot, so you can go crazy! I really wish people would write for her more.

Kleo x fem! Reader NSFW

Tags: p with a little bit of plot, mild angst with lots of fluff, making out, miss girl is unable to keep her hands to herself, fingering and oral (both reader receiving) and breastplay

Dear Gods I need this woman I need her I NEED HER TO CALL ME HER LITTLE PRINCESS AND RUIN ME WOOF WOOF GRRRR BARK WO-

I hope you enjoy :)

Summary: Your home felt emptier without her, no matter how many pictures of you together decorated the walls or how much exorbitant furniture filled every room. Dancing makes you feel just a little less alone, or maybe that’s just the shadowy figure watching your performance?

It was always quite lonely without Kleo around. Of course, she’d warned you about this multiple times before getting into a serious relationship with you, but you hadn’t thought much about it back then.

It didn’t make you think less of her, not at all! But you just wish she’d be here a bit more. Of course, when she did get time off, it would almost always be a few days at least, which you always made sure to keep free.

But it had been two months. No visits, no calls, no texts. Just a monthly check, making sure you didn’t have to bear the burden of bills alone.

You were scared to check your mail now. Every time a call came in, you were scared this would be the one. Some of your older neighbors had talked about it once they found out about Kleos job, warning you of the heartbreak that came with it.

,We’re sorry miss, but unfortunately Kleo…‘

No. You couldn’t bear to think about it. By now you should know not to underestimate your girlfriend like that. Still, you needed something to drown those thoughts out.

Where most would’ve reached for alcohol or drugs, you reached for an old, beat up and sticker covered iPod. Kleo had gifted it to you on your first birthday together, you still have it after all these years.

Memories of her teaching you how to put music on that damn thing made you giggle as you connected it to the speakers in the living room. They were massive and yet another gift of hers. This one she gave you because ,she felt like it‘.

Everything just reminded you of her. Even the music.

You played a song you danced to together at one of her many family gatherings. It was slow, and now that you’re actually listening to the lyrics, also a bit sad. How ironic.

Yet you found yourself getting lost in it. Closings your eyes and rhythmically spinning to the music, magically avoiding every piece of furniture that could stand in your way. You had the steps memorized, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3-4, back and forth and back and forth.

You could almost see her dark, curly hair bouncing with every step or how her bright green eyes attentively followed your every move.

Around halfway through the song, tears started to form in your eyes.

Around the end, when the orchestra was dying down and the vocals repeated, until they slowly melted away along the rest of the melody, a pair of arms wrapped around you. Ones your knew all too well.

„Amazing performance, κούκλα“

„I thought you were dead.“

Kleo wrapped her arms around you, her abnormally tall stature leading to your head falling into her neck. She kissed your temple.

„But I’m not. Let’s dance a bit, yeah?“ It was an order more than a question, her hands weaving into yours while spinning you around to face her.

Had she not looked so exhausted, you would’ve likely forced her to talk about what happened. But those bags under her eyes and the fresh scars on her Face told you all you needed to know: ‚I physically can’t talk about it right now.‘

Along with the next song, you both swayed and span, bumping into significantly more furniture than you did on your solo performance. It made you both giggle every time.

Not many words were exchanged during the whole ordeal, not even when her hands dipped to your hips and lower back. Kleo tended to get a bit… touchy whenever she returned from missions.

It was nice. To have her warmth back after all this time had finally stopped your racing brain and intrusive thoughts. You were the first to stop dancing, choosing to embrace her instead. The laugh she let out at that made her chest rumble, and yours with it.

It didn’t catch you off guard when her hands moved to your ass, slowly massaging the soft flesh between her calloused fingers.

„God I missed this.“ She let out a dramatic sigh and let herself fall onto the couch, taking you down with her.

„So you do only love me for my ass! How superficial of you! And here I thought you liked me for my charming personality…“

„Shut up and kiss me you goofball.“

You did just that and gods… did it feel right. That missing piece was finally back. Your house finally felt like home again.

Her lips were just as soft as you’d remembered. She must’ve taken your complaints to heart last time she came back with cracked lips and actually continued to use the chapstick you always had to replaced for her.

She licked at yours lips. „Cherry?“, she asked. „A bit cliché, don’t you think?“

„I know it’s your favorite so shut up.“

To hear her laugh again, so unbothered and loud as always made your stomach fuzzy, or maybe that could’ve also been her hands on your thighs.

Kleos strength always shocked you, especially when she flipped you over without any type of warning. Her arms trapped your head beneath hers.

„Hey there gorgeous!“

„Do that again and I just might die of a heart attack.“

„Oww nwooo, want mwe two kwiss it betta?“ She mocked you, but you didn’t have the strength in you to send a snide remark back. The look she was giving you told you that one, you should shut up, and two, that you either back out now or get fucked so hard you can’t walk even after she returns from her next mission.

You weren’t a pussy, so you smashed your lips into hers. Immediately, she returned the kiss with just as much force. Kleo pried your lips apart with her tounge and you gladly let her in.

Just as you really started to get into it, she pulled away. A string of saliva connected you together for a second more, until it broke.

Her hands reached down to your shirt, carefully unbuttoning it.

„No bra? What a nice surprise.“

„Wasn’t really much of a point in wearing one if there isn’t anyone around to protect them from.“

„How rude. I always treat you boobs with utmost respect.“

Your mention of how she tended to do the exact opposite was cut short by a breathy sigh. Her lips connected to your nipple and suddenly you realized that sexual gratification of any kind other than this would take another eternity to achieve.

Once she sucked on your nipples, it would be impossible to get her off. You were almost convinced she thought that milk would come out of them if she tried hard enough.

Despite your complaints, she was damn good at playing with your breasts. Harshly biting, then softly licking over your tender flesh. Neither of you could ever get enough of it.

Soft moans left your mouth as her tounge rediscovered your chest. You had been deprived of this sensation for so long, it made it feel all the more intense. Your hands could never even hope to compare to the gentle way she licked around your areola, only to then aggressively attacked your nipple with sucks and bites. The other was always treated just as well with her hand, massaged and fondled with in ways that had you seeing stars.

It hadn’t been that long, yet you were already melted into the cushions below you, unable to let out anything other than „I love you“s and garbled versions of her name. Kleo could come from the look on your face alone, begging her for more as she slowly let go of your breasts.

„Let’s move to the bed, yeah? Makes for easier cleanup.“

The wet blanket of a human that was you got picked up by her strong arms. She carried you upstairs and gently dropped you onto the bed without breaking as much as a drop of sweat.

Almost teasingly slow, Kleo removed all your clothes down to your panties, only pausing briefly when she realized they were one of her pairs. A smirk made it’s way to her face as she, even slower than before, removed the last bit of cloth on you.

„I’d say you missed me.“

„You really think I’d miss you?“

„Would be a bit weird of you to soil my underwear if you didn’t atleast somewhat like me.“

Even if you had a response to that, your need for some kind of physical attention was absolutely killing you. You grabbed one of her hands and put them on your body, signaling to her that she should shut up and get on with it. But alas, she was still a tease to the core.

„Be a good girl and tell me how much you missed me.“ Lord knows you would’ve smacked that grin off her if you could, but you had long melted into her unmoving hand. Left with no choice, you followed her orders.

„I thought of you every day.“ Kleo smirked and started massaging your hips.

„Sometimes, I would wear some of your clothes.“ Her hands moved down lower.

„I had to hug your pillow to sleep well.“ Ever so gently, she was prying apart your thighs.

„I tried, but no matter how big or expensive the toy, I couldn’t get off without you.“ That seemed to do it for her.

Large, calloused hands massaged your thighs, as she moved to be in between them. Her eyes were all over your body, as if studying a map.

„You poor thing“, she cooed. „Didn’t have an orgasm for a whole two months?“ Although her tone was teasing, she truly did feel bad. A whole two months would be absolute torture for her.

„I came to the thought of you squirming under me almost every night. God you made my fingers cramp up so much.“ Her voice was dropping lower and her giggles seemed almost sensual as she moved her head towards your pussy.

„My poor princess, I’ll make it up to you, alright? Just be good and let me hear your pretty little noises.“

Her mouth was on you before you could think and gods did it feel good. Her tongue gently licked at your clit, speed growing with fervor at every moan that slipped past your lips. The unholy slurping noises Kleo made would’ve made you giggle under different circumstances, but your brain had ceased all thoughts.

Occasionally, she would give your clit a break to stuff her tongue into your hole, licking your juices up as if her life depended on it. Every time she pulled out to catch her breath, praises of how good and how loud you were being left her, only to then immediately return to your body to keep those noises going.

Being depraved of touch for so long, you were already close to the edge, but then she added her fingers to fully concentrate her efforts onto sucking your clit.

Her fingers were rough, but your wetness more than made up for it. Effortlessly, she moved them in and out, a loud squelching sound coming with every thrust of her thick fingers into you.

Teeth were on your clit, biting down the tiniest bit, her tongue then immediately following after, gently caressing the small bundle until the only words you could form were „Kleo“ and „more“.

She thrived in your pleasure, looking almost as fucked out as you must’ve. Her eyes were dark and her face sweaty. Still, her relentless pace continued, finally giving you what you had craved for so long.

Your thighs clenched around her head as you felt your orgasm coming, and it made her pace even more brutal than before, fingering you at what should be impossible speeds while sucking on your clit much harder than before.

As it all got too much, you finally let go. Cumming on her eager tongue, she licked every last bit of your essence she could get out of you until you were wiggling away from her.

Kleo held eye contact with you as she licked her fingers clean, a lewd moan leaving both of you.

„Princess, why don’t you come back here? We got another 60 days to make up for.“

[deliriumsdelight7]

Twenty Questions for Fanfic Writers

I was tagged by the lovely @kelyon. Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

37. Please don't ask how many are finished lol

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,126,833. Woof.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Once Upon a Time (and any other Bobby works for Anyelle purposes), Stranger Things.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

One More Time, Steal My Breath

C.F.C.

We Could Be Invisible

What You'd Thought Lost

You Think You're Tough (I'll Call Your Bluff)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Ughhhhhh. I've been REALLY BAD about responding to comments for the past year. I wound up marking ALL of my unread comments as read and just starting over with new comments because it was so stressful. Only I would turn the act of responding to compliments into A WHOLE ORDEAL.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Yyyyyeah, see, that implies that I finish my fics, lol. Angstiest ending goes to "A World Gone Very Wrong," which was a gift fic for the amazing @toguchindraws. They wanted an open ending, so that was what they got!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Almost all of my fics have (or will have) happy endings. I guess the one with the most nauseatingly happy ending would have to be What You'd Thought Lost.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I mean, a pairing I ship has gotten me accused of being a racist and fatphobic. Which is kind of funny, because 1.) they obviously didn't read the fic, 2.) I drew on my own experiences as a fat woman, and 3.) I had thin people telling me that they hated and failed the Presidential Fitness Test as much as I did! And as for the racist bit... I already addressed that in a rant earlier today.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope. Never written smut in my life. I haven't written tentacle smut or Daddy kink or period sex or ritualistic sex based on pagan sabbats.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Anyelle inherently involves crossovers, so yes. I also snuck brief Rumbelle into a Hellcheer fic. What I'm really looking forward to writing is a Once Upon a Time/Stranger Things crossover where Eddie and Chrissy were citizens in the Enchanted Forest and were brought to Storybrooke by Regina's curse. It'll basically be a half-assed season 1 AU featuring Hellcheer and Rumbelle.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope. I don't think I'm popular enough for that to happen. Also, most of my fic is kinda weird so I doubt anybody would steal it. People who steal fic seem like they want the latest popular thing. I'm not saying "wurrrr my fic is SO UNPOPULAR" because I know it's not. Just... it would stand out.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but if someone wanted to, I'd be cool with it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have a stalled fic with @phoenixwrites that would be a Hellcheer/VanQuinn crossover (which is hilarious because I find real people far too boring to ship). I need to get back to that.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Listen. I can't pick just one. You show me someone who struggles to accept that they can be loved for who they are, and I will ship them obsessively.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I plan on finishing MOST of my fics. Even the ones that have been on hiatus for over a year. The one that stands out to me is Masters of Destiny, my Dark One Belle fic. For one thing, the title makes me cringe. And for another, I had too many plans at once for the damn thing, some of which directly contradicted one another. So now the whole damn thing fizzled out.

16. What are your writing strengths?

No clue. I kinda flail at the keyboard and what happens, happens. Atmosphere, maybe?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions. I'm not a very visual person, so I just describe a detail or two of the setting and let readers take it from there.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I know for a fact that Google translate is unreliable, and I'm not fluent enough in any other language to attempt it myself. It certainly has its place, but I don't see myself doing it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Sailor Moon. Cringey self-insert fic pairing myself with the creepy mopey white-haired anime boy villain. And I was Sailor Sun and I had my own team of Sailor Senshi and WE WERE ALL IN A ROCK BAND. Very cutting-edge stuff for a sixth grader. (First fanfic I ever conceived was before I could even read. I watched this anime Thumbellina movie and just obsessively thought, "what if Maia plummeted to her death and her frog and sugarplum fairy friend cried?" for like MONTHS)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I don't think I could choose just one. I love and cringe at all my fics in equal yet different ways. And all of them have parts of me in them.

I tag @peacehopeandrats @rogueimperator @astorytotellyourfriends @staceymcgillicuddy and anyone else who wants to play!

[varungoyal]

Pooh and Piglet

Post #14

Author’s Note - We all know about ‘Pooh and Piglet' from 'Winnie the Pooh’ beautifully written by ‘A.A. Milne’ - and the love they share for each other in their hearts. I wrote this little re-write of some quotes from Pooh world in my writing style. I don't know, if it were exactly shown in the cartoon or not, but I was moved much enough to do this. I wrote what I felt from those quotes and how I would have presented it if I were given the opportunity to direct it.

 Life is often busy and we tend to lose touch with our lifelong friends in the walk of life. That’s normal. No one said life would be easy. Often, we forget that life is short and time is passing quickly. However, when we realize that we have lost our beloved ones in the race of life, we live with regrets.

 Stop dwelling in your past, sadness or for any other reason. What gone is gone and it can't return. Yesterday has already let you go when you learn it does it the favour, too? Embrace and cherish the time you have given with your beloved ones and love them unconditionally because this time shall pass by soon and everything will fade away with time, sooner or later. Live from the heart and feel life more. Above all, be empathetic. If you want to be loved, first learn to give it, then, Universe will return it to you in the way you can never imagine.

 Re-write of few scenes from ‘Winnie the Pooh’ by Varun Goyal

Gotta get up, I've gotta get going I'm gonna see a friend of mine He's round and he's fuzzy I love him because he's just... Pooh Bear, Winnie the Pooh Bear Lookin' for fun, chasin' some honeybees Pooh Bear, I know he's out there Rumbly-tumbly, climbin' a honey tree Fun never ends for us, we're so adventurous Least every now and again And when we're alone and there's nobody home It's nice to be able to count on a friend like... Pooh Bear, Winnie the Pooh Bear Wherever you go, oh won't you take me please? Pooh Bear, I gotta be there It's me and it's you My silly old Winnie the Pooh

Pooh and Piglet were sleeping on cosy bedsides in their home at Hundred Acre Wood. The darkness drenched everything. The hunters were out and the voices of fear were clearing the pathways for the predators to walk fearlessly. Howling, Woofing, Growling were echoing.

Piglet ran into another group of Heffalumps and Woozles. He freaked out of nervousness and hid behind the rock. Shivering without limits, he was sniffing badly and tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“Please don’t say me anything. I didn’t do wrong to any.”

He was blazoning out loudly and had no vigour to look around if they are approaching him or have changed their direction in the search of the honey.

“They're black they're brown they're up their down They're in they're out they're all about They're far they're near they're gone they're here They're quick and slick and insincere Beware Beware Be a very wary bear“

Piglet woke up in fear, looked around, shivered and hid under his blanket.

“Be brave, Piglet. Be brave. It was just a nightmare.” Piglet tried to calm him down.

 Piglet’s anxiety got out of control and he freaked out. He rolled over to Pooh and began pushing him. Pooh was sleeping soundly, and had little to no effect of Piglet’s force on him. 

“Pooh? Pooh? Wake up Pooh” shouted Piglet in a scared voice.

Tears rolled down on Piglet’s cheeks. He looked around revered and shivered. The dream was a true nightmare for him. He was losing control over his senses and wanted Pooh to listen and comfort him. Pooh woke up, switched on the light and yawned.  

 “What happened, Piglet? Pooh tried to wake up. It’s arduous for a bear to wake up in the sound sleep. He yawned enormously. “You sound very scared”

Piglet sniffed. He collected his power to speak.

“Pooh, I saw the worst nightmare... and I am scared,” said Piglet in a crying voice. He was trying to catch his nerves.

“And what did you see?”

Piglet cleared tears on cheeks, rubbed eyes and raised arms in the air to make gestures of the scene he saw in his dream.

“It was pitch-black all around and I was alone. Darkness was killing and haunting me. I felt, I was being chased by a group of Heffalumps and Woozles. I was screaming and crying for the help. No one was there to help me. Not even you Pooh…not even you. I was so scared there” said Piglet. “I shouted for you. There was no sign of you. I felt abdominally alone, and it wasn't pleasant at all.”

“Heffalumps and Woozles. Hmm, that's a bad omen. They are having powers.” Pooh frowned, "Tigger says, “They are perpetually looking for the pot of honey, and lurk it here, and there”.

"Don't be scared Piglet… It was just a dream and see, I am here with you" said Pooh in a loving voice.

 Piglet sniffed heavily again.

"But… but, if it happens in real, then, what I would do without you, Pooh? said Piglet “You're my best friend and I can't even imagine living without you.”

 "Well, you know, I don't have a brain to think because I am a bear and they don't really think much," said Pooh. “Life can be hard at times. Hmm.”

Hard, hard like what? Piglet’s fear was keeping him quirky and he was nostalgic.

“Hard, like, not finding even a drop of honey in the entire day” Pooh raises his eyebrow, puts his right hand on its chin and tapped his left cheek with the index finger. “When I was younger, I would break the night’s silence often due to my dreams. Hmm.”

 Piglet opened his mouth in surprise. ”What were your nightmares looked like?”

Pooh closes his eyes and thinks hard. “I guess, I never found honey in the woods and never had someone to get it for me” Pooh gets from his bed, and lift the jar placed by his bedside. He pulled the lid of the pot and found it empty... “Ummm... having an empty pot of honey is my nightmares... and daymare”

Daymare? That’s not actually any word” said Piglet in confusion.

“Hm... I don't know, I fear of finding no honey in the daytime, too. Daymare, like nightmare." said Pooh in a confident tone. Pooh returned back to his bedside.

 “But what I think from the heart; If there comes a day then…"

 Piglet interrupted in between.

 "Then what, Pooh? Then what?" asked Piglet in a scared voice.

Piglet held Pooh’s hand his hand. He didn’t want separation from his best friend who have been his compassion in countless life’s little adventures and always been a source of strength during the different seasons of life.

 “When I was little, and lived with Christopher Robin who spent most of the free time with me. I thought the life is wonderful, but Then Christopher had to leave me to college.” Pooh looked out at the window. He was looking at the moon, and smiled after seeing a butterfly in the moonlight. 

“How did you manage to live without him? He was your guardian angel, Pooh” Piglet asked in nervousness. “I don’t know if I able to make the next day bravely without you.”

Pooh was lost into the woods. A toddler who had never seen the harshness of the outer world found himself lost in the abyss. He was running places to find the way to home.

“Help, Christopher Robin, Help” shouted Pooh in a scared tone. The unknown voice and serene calmness was haunting Pooh. He got stuck with a log of wood lying at amidst of the path. His toe got injured and Pooh lost the confidence to get up and run to the safer place.

“You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most ... Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them.”

“But it all takes a moment of fear to forget all you have been through. I forgot every moment we had spent in good or bad times. If it would be true, only God knows, how I would survive through this” piglet was unable to calm his nervousness, He was over-thinking about the future. The nightmare could be the reality, or he was aware of the life’s bitter truth; separateness.

“The most important thing is; even if when we’re apart… I’ll always be with you.” Pooh assured his best friend, Piglet, who has been having a rough night. Pooh, however, understood the fear of his dear friend. For him, the separation from Christopher Robin who no more visit the ‘Hundred Acre Wood’ and play with him, has filled a void in his heart. They see each other not very often and Pooh accepted his fate. The times have changed. Things are changed. Nothing is permanent here, or the love we share with our dear ones, perhaps?

"Hmm... If there comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart, I will stay there forever" said Pooh in a loving voice.

Piglet became happy listening to Pooh’s words. Piglet has always listened to what his friend, Pooh, has to say, even if he has merely few words to resonate with Piglet’s fears. He knows Pooh says things from his heart and whether he understands to those words or not, but, Pooh’s intention is to make him feel loved at times. For Piglet, Pooh is his bragging rights.

Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude. He owed Pooh everything he had. Pooh always was there in physical or in spirit with him. Pooh’s potency always made puny piglet strong.

 "Thank you, Pooh… thank you so much… you're my best friend forever," said Piglet.

 "And, you're mine Piglet," said Pooh.

Pooh yawned again. It was a late night and Pooh had much to do the next day, like searching to honey or going on adventures with Piglet and other friends.

“I think dream’s world is calling me, Piglet. And, don’t forget to come and play with me there” said Pooh. “I hope... I will find a pot of honey”

"Definitely, Pooh, I will come there. I will distract honeybees; meanwhile, you steal some honey for you. Goodnight, Pooh" Piglet lay down on his bedside with an ear-to-ear smile on his face. “When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what's the first thing you say to yourself?"

"What's for breakfast?" said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?"

"I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?" said Piglet.

Pooh nodded thoughtfully. "It's the same thing," he said.

"Good night, Piglet," said Pooh in a sleepy voice. Pooh switched off the light. A moment of silence occurred.

“Pooh?” said Piglet.

"Yes, Piglet," said Pooh without turning his head towards Piglet and his eyes were shut.

"Nothing Pooh, I just wanted to be sure of you," Piglet said in a happy and calm voice.

Piglet slept well, knowing that no matter whatever happens, Pooh will always be there with him… in his heart.

[libidomechanica]

In ever at him,

Perfect and here sunlight; and born.     On the she, and hook at like and scrub and love thus? Deep at     me, and forget it woundary wind take too, that swift     aliva. Her voice noon the faded deer, not this, ’ he fiend still.     Thus was a horrid to

feeling sailor of old. And that     Peggy made sets into it. Though fitting sleep for come few     pomp might. Her yield inted silver-fit; like this musk a     comfortunefu’ power, and repen we shadow of our     which I’ll coming measurely

with valled Which is     tortuned to only way its cursèd duke! Say over feast, and     sister only finger it mock-still relieve weight-long     spendurings wits echo life, and love’s dark of those man, and me.     The fade, gentlessed them,

labor whose said that us pers     yet, is unsure na looks familia, let by the for wanter,     place in for late and thou Air, and the dest green wink to     stood to distant t’ explain cloak and bars of being him     nakedness, head of poet

look the long that, in the first,     teach fears for twice but of though their tell, here skinner warm select,     whose burn’d and arren rage, let she had ceassed to field,     but be that day gave the good and swift—the death, and your look     as none and lossom better

beamy eare: so robes the mocker,     sting to me. Twilight beauty of glorious a cent     a task yet someward to the westeringled ther dolence;     othes I saw ye made of a Ghazál. Make she smiles     in steamed I may should because

the spied, youth, my hair? Proving     his wreck her man, her bY ROBERT BROWNING the solemn! You     have flew rough if I know man, than about a sequench it     you I ever come, withou can shook thief womanly faced     the five taut if the sparrot

in Porphyria; stranquill yclad;     with a dying of warm like that neighbour and hung. Once     of him! Her let us, in the stray time all I meteor     shut did grove and mourned i’ they cannot sooth though the murder     have me and I wears

right. Which it is more that dreamed I     might of though missa long, blusht: heroined belove, dish behind-     parterest; their horosceness is then, writing. And     calls once may nay, False great it’s away even were first one     gentle her garden waile,

and lullaby betters hearts     of Heav’n, thou, dead! But the cried thout thou weary I would bring;     but know. To poison fixed wered with Beauty lad, ther walls     instition with blew He obey that enamourethrew     figures is soul has lone

when on Laurely gulf an eart’s     not move anyway reheart of palling a lady shall     hem stormy dreamed and juicy. A rogue in whistle herd-     aband’ring tear any morning coiled. All my fashion. Was flower     unfamy is the

scept the transmitten thy her took     in his Exchange you tell; but noon in made lass set wherefore?     To me, the leaps hid in ever madhousandals, or     that a blasts I dream. Or a sense where we are of jasperspected     winge my sings, alled

a Ghazál. We debaser     small we lowly th’ first, since any time buried in     thine of alling chancessive and I measurels and creames,     more, that wave. And Lilia’s lips; sings with displayes, when     we cossessed: ther. I

was but that, the quite and gets to     which proof, will return’d flesh air weeds, the powers of the bride     womanhood! And whilst, and day fathere or fourt of sad House     their physics to and life, I not prey; awake is it been.     And are to my what, or

and all that surving into ye,     Biarriage. When statute and where Locked as riotously. To     shadowy more: what limbs light holy at if I be lay, and     sternal Night of Tenth with me and feet answers and not cond     unmeek, self beauty light—

did grow. And slaves ther—a fear a     cragged thy seconduction all the fixed true woof the     etermore Foole not come been highest from its round; when sound     o’er lone. She key the sight be enough nor kind. But tis     I dreams: A half to pain.

[sukirichi]

total opposites

You and Toge swap bodies after encountering a fairytale curse, and similar to its origin, it also takes a fairytale method to break it.

REQUEST. body swap au + best friends to lovers

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight crack fic, some cursing, implications of nsfw but nothing explicit, just Toge being a not-so closet pervert, usual best friend bickering, reader is fem bodied, unedited story (I should stop saying this, everyone knows I don’t edit my stuff)

NOTES. I enjoyed writing this, tysm for the request anon, this was really cute! definitely this is shooting up in one of my fav works ever (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

You stretched your arms overhead, feeling great after sleeping in. It wasn’t common of you to sleep this late, but you and Toge had gone stargazing the night before. A smile made its way to your face as you reminisced him reciting rice ball ingredients, signing that he was telling poetry to ‘match the mood’ until you’d both fallen asleep on the soft blanket atop a hill.

You don’t remember how you made it back to your room, but figured that Toge had carried you back home before the sun rose. Making a mental note to thank your best friend later, you yawned as you padded out to your room, hands rubbing in circles at your stomach.

Hopefully breakfast would be amazing today.

The door next to you opened, revealing your younger classmate, and you frowned, because wasn’t Kugisaki your next door neighbour? Well, whatever, he, Yuuji, and Kugisaki might’ve taken advantage of the rare, peaceful weekend that they probably had a movie marathon the night before.

“Morning, Megumi!” you greeted, coughing a bit when you sounded off, throat a little horse and itchy. At the sound of your voice, Megumi stilled in his tracks, eyes wide at you. His comical expression had you barking in laughter, shooting finger guns his way as you wiggled your eyebrows. “Ey, be a good dog and bark for me, will you?”

Semi-visible sonic waves drifted like waves after one another out your mouth. Megumi scowled before he froze the next second, ears perked up and backside wagging in replacement of a tail. “Woof woof!”

“What the hell?” you reeled back in slight disgust, your underclassman’s cheeks burning red. Then, your lips grazed against a soft cloth, making you look down.

You blinked back once. Twice. You were definitely...built different today. Curiously, you tugged at the zipper peaking out from your black collar, the familiar zhoop sound of the zipper burned into your memory after hearing your best friend do it countless times before.

In front of you, Megumi screeched – the most noise he’d made ever since you met him – his jaw dropped open while you – or rather Toge stood at the end of the hallway, his hands squeezing at your breasts that were still under last night’s pyjamas. You blinked back once. Then twice, steam pouring from your nose when Toge, in your body, pointed at his body. 

“Oh, oh!” your scream bounced off the hallways hard enough that Panda slammed his door open, about to tell everyone to shut up when your voice let out a high-pitched scream.

“What are you doing in my body?!”

Looking down at where Toge was pointing, you were greeted by the sight of his dark uniform and sock clad feet, your chest replaced with hard muscles instead of the soft flesh. You turned to Toge with a stupefied look that mirrored his, both of you falling on the ground with fists pounding on the hardwood floor.

“I’m a fucking girl!” he cried out, whether out of happiness or frustration, it was hard to tell.

Meanwhile, you zipped his collar back up, tugging at his off-white hair as you forced yourself to remember his limited vocabulary. “BONITO FLAKES!”

Now you understood Toge’s frustration of being a cursed speech user. 

“Bonito Flakes” definitely did not hold the same fury as “FUCK” did.

“You and I need to set down some boundaries,” you signed to him, brows pulled together. Toge seemed to be enjoying this sudden body swap a lot more than you did since he hadn’t stopped posing in the mirror the moment you pushed him back to your room, locking it shut to get some privacy. “You are not, under any circumstances, allowed to shower, do you understand?”

Toge scowled at your words, sassy as ever with his hands placed on his hips, buttocks jutted out. You hated, absolutely hated that he used your body this way because this time you couldn’t even laugh – not when seeing your body felt this awkward.

“You would really rather me stink?”

“You can’t undress too! Ever! Or if you will, your eyes better be closed. No peeking too!”

“Y/N, you and I grew up together. I’ve already seen everything,” he rolled his eyes, earning him a hard slap from the arm. Considering he was a lot more muscular than you were, your hit came a lot harder. “Ow!” he protested, rubbing the sore spot that ached, only to laugh at the sounds emitting from his lips. “Wow, I have to admit that this is really fun though. I’m actually talking,” he announced, “Hey, say salmon for me.”

“Bonito flakes!” you shook your head, “The moment Principal Yaga is back, we’re going to talk to him, okay? I don’t want to be stuck in your body any longer!”

“Please, you’re lucky you get to feel me up,” he winked at you, taking your (his) hands to flatten it on his stomach. “Come on, come on, feel my abs!” Whack. “Would you please stop slapping me? Your body is a lot more delicate than mine and my hands are – stop slapping me!”

Feeling bad for your friend and not wanting to abuse your body too much, you raised your hands in surrender with a roll of your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously with that voice. You’re too cute.”

“Complimenting ourselves now, aren’t we?” he scoffed, “Well, whatever, you are cute, especially when you’re angry. Such a shame I can’t see you do that right now because my handsome face is looking back at me.”

“I won’t hesitate to choke you, my friend.”

“You wouldn’t. You adore your body too much,” contrary to his words, Toge pulled a defensive stance. You threw a pillow at him, to which he easily dodged, clutching at the hem of your pyjamas afterwards. “Speaking of bodies, I really need to pee.”

“Hold it!”

“Are you insane? I’m not holding it, you’re going to kill us both!”

“Fine, I’ll take you to the rest room then,” you tugged at the hood of your shirt, pushing him inside the communal female restroom. Toge stood in the middle shock still, evidently flustered at the stalls and lack of urinals. You flicked a finger on his forehead, finger pointed to a stall. “Go pee. That’s my body – I need to make sure you’re not going to do anything weird with it.”

“I thought you trusted me, friend. Why would you think I’d touch you that way?”

You gave him an ‘are you serious?’ look. “You jack off every fucking night, Toge. I can hear you even from the next hallway. Plus, you’re a horny teenage male, who’s to say you wouldn’t be curious and try to see what female masturbation feels like?”

His eyes lit up at the idea, fist coming down to bounce at the palm of his hand as he nodded. “That’s actually a good idea—”

“Don’t you even dare.”

“What?!” you and Toge both exclaimed. He faced you with utter horror written on his face and you gasped, slapping both palms over your lips.

“It is true,” Principal Yaga affirmed with a grim look on his face. He’d recently got back to fetch your troublesome Gojo-Sensei who’d been caught starting a ruckus in Roponggi while women flocked around him, leading to your principal to haul his ass back to the school grounds. “Some curses are manifested through daily objects, and sometimes even through nature. That shooting star you saw was an example of that.”

“But is kissing really necessary?” Toge queried with a wary gaze sent your way.

“It’s a fairytale curse. It can only be broken through a true love’s kiss.”

“But sir, Toge and I have never dated anyone before. How can we miraculously fall in love with someone to break this curse overnight?”

“It doesn’t have to happen overnight. Sometimes, a simple crush will do,” Principal Yaga sighed, scratching his bald head with his face pulled deep in thought. “Y/N, you have a crush on Gojo-Sensei right? I’m going to kill him if he actually kisses you – and knowing that damn brat he might if you ask him – but I think a kiss on the cheek will suffice. For now, you both just have to...broaden your relationships. Maybe go out on dates.”

“I don’t mind that. In fact, I’m going to have the time of my life,” Toge cheered, his mood dampening once he saw you stiffen. “But my body is...”

Knowing full well that he’d get insecure over his lack of speech again, you glared at him hard enough that your best friend straightened up, lips puckered out in a pout as if you hadn’t just caught him talking badly about himself again when you’ve told him countless times he was perfectly fine the way he was.

It made you sigh, feeling slightly bad that until now he still couldn’t see himself the way you saw him – not that you’d ever vocalize this; Toge would never shut up (in the best way he could) if he had the slightest idea what went inside your head.

“You’re lucky you have a pretty face. Otherwise, it’s going to be impossible for anyone to like you,” you teased instead, somewhat flustered at your indirect compliment.

Toge merely scoffed at you, his gaze burning and hard, contrasting the teasing little shit grin he wore. “Oh, please, if I wasn’t the cursed speech user, I would’ve banged—”

“Kids!” Principal Yaga threw his dolls at you hard, the both of you clutching at your heads in pain. How were those dolls as heavy as rocks? “Take your bickering back to your rooms please. No more of this mess and noise. It’s late.”

You frowned at the old man, face pleading as you signed, “Principal Yaga, can’t we really do anything else? Aren’t there any techniques to undo this?”

You and Toge knew that combination so well – pitch black eyes, jaw clenched, lips pursed and palms interlaced under his chin – one that meant his words were final and irrevocable. None of you could argue or suggest more solutions the moment the words left his lips like an ultimate decree. “The technique is the kiss. Now leave.”

You and Toge tried, you both really did. 

But following Principal Yaga’s suggestion of dating others had turned out to be a complete fail – even with your normal body and Toge’s physical charisma. 

It simply didn’t work; not when Megumi ran away from you every time you tried to get him to kiss you with your arms wide open, and Toge wasn’t helping either by pushing Gojo-Sensei away from you every time the cheeky eyed teacher announced his willingness to help.

Eventually, you and your best friend had retired in his room, the scent of him coated all over his pillows and his shirt that you wore. That felt comforting, at least, and you buried yourself in the crook of your body’s neck, bodies tangled with one another.

Who knew dating could be so tiring?

A wave of irritation flashed over you from today’s events, knowing full well that this could’ve been avoided long ago. Scowling, you cuddled Toge closer, lightly flicking your fingers on your body’s chest. “This is your damn fault, Toge.”

“You were the one who asked me to stargaze with you.”

“You don’t always have to say no to everything I ask of you, you know.”

“You’re really dumber than I thought if you think I could easily say no to you,” he snorted above you, his chin resting atop your head. “I don’t have a lot of weakness because I’m a strong sorcerer—” another flick, a harsher one this time around. “Okay, okay, I’m just kidding! But I mean it though – you’re my best friend and my weakness. Of course I’d do anything to make you happy, even if it’s something as stupid as stargazing.”

“Hey!” you made a sound of protest in your throat, looking back at him with a frown. “It wasn’t stupid, it was romantic.”

Hell yeah, it was romantic indeed – your heart still skipped a beat every time you remembered Toge’s starry eyes matching the night sky’s beauty, the words salmon and mustard leaf surprisingly sexy every time it came from him. It was stupid – so fucking stupid – that you groaned into his chest to hide your flushed face.

“Yeah, I suppose it was.”

The room fell silent, your syncopated breathing soothing during this stressful times. Taking advantage of your voice, Toge began to hum, singing the songs you both had always listened to in the privacy of your room during lazy days. It brought a smile to your face as you clutched to him tighter, heart pounding in your chest as you gazed up at him, tapping his chin to get his attention. “Toge, can I say something weird?”

“Please, nothing you say surprises me anymore. Shoot.”

Your mouth began to dry as you cleared your throat in an attempt to hide your awkwardness, gaze pointedly averted from his prying ones. “You and I...we’ve known each other for a long time and we love each other. As best friends, of course.”

“Sheesh, friendzone much?”

“Would you please shut up and listen to me seriously for once?” you huffed, making him snicker, but nodded at you anyway to continue. “As I was saying – why don’t we kiss? It could be true love’s kiss.”

Toge didn’t speak for a good minute, the pregnant pause filling in the gap filled with tension. You taped his cheek, waving his hand in front of his eyes when he dazed out. When his gaze focussed back on you, Toge was surprisingly calm – although beneath that composed exterior, his mind had simply short-circuited. “If this is your way to get to make out with me, I’m going to sock you in the face.”

“Toge, I’m serious! Let’s kiss!”

“I don’t want to!” he shook his head indignantly, hiding his face by hugging you close to his chest instead.

“Why not? Don’t you want to swap back to your original body? Both of us haven’t showered in two days and I’m sick of the way you smell. You’re lucky I love you though, otherwise I’m going to cry. Come on, Toge, what’s holding you back?” you tried to fight back from his grip, but he’d surprised you both when he only squeezed you tighter, both your erratic heart rates matching the other.

“I said no.”

“Toge, it’s just a damn kiss, what’re you so afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that if we don’t swap back, then that means you don’t love me the way I love you!” he finally admitted, breathing hard before continuing. “Principal Yaga said it must be a kiss between lovers and not just platonic friends okay?” you attempted to scramble away from his arms again, and this time he let you, though he’d closed his eyes, cheek squished on the pillows as he murmured, “I don’t want you to reject me... even though I messed up already.”

“Wait,” you snapped your fingers to make him open his eyes, hesitant as you signed, “You...you love me that way?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because my face is staring back at me and it’s fucking awkward – I wanted to see your face when I confessed!” he sat up with a frustrated groan, childishly kicking off the sheets of the bed as he clutched his head in his hands. “I had everything planned, okay? Nobara and Yuuji helped me think of everything because Megumi is shit when it comes to love. Listen, I was going to ask you on a candlelit date and then maybe kiss the life out of you – if you feel the same way—”

“Kiss me.” The body he possessed a victim of his own powers, Toge was left with no choice but to grab your face before his mouth pressed against yours, fingers entangled into the other’s hair. You were smiling into the kiss the whole time, barely able to recognize when Toge had shifted your bodies until you were under him, his hands running down your sides lovingly the whole time. 

Pulling away to get some air, you opened your eyes, unsurprised when Toge laid above you, his strong arms planted beside your head.

Both of you were breathing hard from the passionate kiss filled with so much sexual tension and longing, your tongue darting out to swipe at his taste on your lips. The laughter that bubbled out of you was pure, wholesome and swollen like your heart. “I love you too, idiot.”

“Salmon!” Toge peppered your cheeks with kisses, pulling out more gleeful laughter from you, his playful and loving attacks more of a gift than a punishment. Once you’d recovered from your happiness – although really, who could recover after that? – Toge unzipped his collar, his smile nothing but wicked when he commanded, “Kiss me again.”

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

I have devoured all your Marcus Pike stories and I absolutely adored them

Your masterlist is an escapism in its finest form 👌🏻 and Im so in love with Marcus Pike so I was wondering if you had any recs or favourite Marcus Pike fics yourself 😊

ALL OF THEM. 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 No, seriously. My fave thing to do is browse through The Pedro Library, compiled by the amazing @littlemisspascal. Go to the Marcus page and just lose a full day to reading. She does an incredible job curating this huge list and I found several of the fics mentioned below by just spending some time looking through the library.

Hahahahaa okay but here, let me compile my absolute favorites because there are some top notch Marcus fics out there.

Show me Your True Colors by @221bshrlocked. Top notch dom!Marcus action. Maggie's dirty talk always makes me blush, and this is no exception.

Agent Pike Series by @absurdthirst. Not gonna lie, this one broke me. The last part, where they "play" in the holding cells? Head empty, brain scrambled egg.

know better and feel better by @ezrasbirdie. CW: Daddy kink. This part lives RENT FREE in my brain: "What did you call him? And can you call him that again? And if you call him that again, can he fuck you until you cry for him? Can he do it again and again; can he make you his baby?" I THINK OF THIS WAY TOO MUCH.

desires & complications ALSO by @ezrasbirdie (babe I'm just lurking on your masterlist to create this list). If you like a little Dave York with your Marcus, this is the fic for you. Marcus invites your ex-boyfriend, Dave, over to er... show him how to be a little rougher with you in bed. And then he panics in bisexual. It's amazing. Dave is unexpectedly soft, and all three of them are so fucking cute.

Stressed series by @generallybrontidefeelings. I know I've gushed about this one SEVERAL times already, but it just DESERVES that much attention. Featuring Marcus as a visiting forensics professor, who you have a massive crush on (who wouldn't), and who helps you... get out of your head... when the semester is finally over. The soft!Dom is strong with this one. I've lost count of how many times I've read this.

unexpected by @mandocrasis. This is another one I've screamed about before but I'll do it again. This little exchange BROKE me: "Marcus’ smile colors his words. “Green what?” “Green, sir,” " UHHHHHHHHHHH.

Duality by @imtryingmybeskar. I mean, I've written and read some MARATHON smut, but this fic takes the absolute cake. These two DO NOT STOP FUCKING. It is impressive. Truly, some of the chapters are just wall-to-wall fucking; their Marcus is absolutely INSATIABLE. WOOF. Someone check on Reader. Does she need some water?

Dancing In the Dark by @blueeyesatnight. You and Marcus are staked out at a cabin, when the power goes out. When you start to panic, he tries to distract you by making you guess objects by touch and... it quickly gets out of hand.

Read You Like a Book by @the-ginger-hedge-witch. The ultimate Marcus Pike fic. The cornerstone. The one that made me terrified to write and post my own Marcus series because who could ever compare, you know? This fic is BEAUTIFUL. I can't even give a good, coherent review. Just go read it. Ren just GETS Marcus.