#yes he has veins we know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mvybanks · 5 months

Text

the deal — the one where you almost break up

a/n: writing flangst just to feel something oh how i love being a woman😫 on a serious note, don’t kill me pls + this can be read as a stand-alone but it’s a post-series blurb from the deal !!! (i know this is longer than a blurb but we all know that i don’t care)

warnings: FLANGST!!!, rafe is mean, mentions of things that happened in the series, ward being a terrible parent, not proofread (will do it tomorrow🫡)

nav the deal masterlist

add yourself to my taglist <3

—

You and Rafe are in a fight.

Or at least what started out as just a fight.

It’s rare for either of you to be mad at the other, but he truly has crossed the line this time and you feel like your relationship is hanging by a thread now.

He had gone back home for a couple of days, that turned out to be a week, and although you didn’t know what was the reason, you didn’t think much of it, it was a habit of his and you believed that he only wished to see his sisters. However, when he came back, he wasn’t your Rafe. You couldn’t recognize the man that had walked inside your apartment and to be honest, you didn’t want to get to know him.

“Hey, baby!” You ran to him as he had opened the front door, for you had given him a key to your apartment.

If there’s one thing that he had always loved was being welcomed by your sweet embrace, engulfed by your comforting perfume and finally being able to relax against you. But that didn’t happen this time.

“Hey,” was all he said. No emotions behind it, no joy of seeing you again after an entire week, and that had already alarmed you. Hell, what had already made bells go off in your head had been the little to none contact when he was away.

You were only able to place your hands on his chest before he kept walking inside, ignoring you, while he reached the bathroom and left you at the entrance. Where was your boyfriend?

You went to lie on the couch and stayed there until he came back in the living room. You could tell something was wrong and you were unsure if you had done something to make him upset.

“How was your trip?” You only asked, not wanting to pry on his behavior immediately.

“I don’t feel like talking.” He coldly exclaimed, making your lips seal shut.

And so you remained in silence for what seemed an eternity. An uncomfortable silence; one that you had never experienced with Rafe and it was hurting not knowing what was going on.

Finally, you attempted at getting an answer, gently placing one hand on his shoulder as he sat next to you on the couch. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You inquired, worry laced in your voice.

“Nothing’s wrong. I told you I don’t feel like talking, Y/n, for fuck’s sake!” He groaned, shaking your hand off and breaking your heart in a million pieces as he did so. He got up from his seat, not even noticing the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Just tell me if it’s something I did. This isn’t you.” You whispered, heartbroken.

This isn’t you.

The words kept echoing in his ears. The same ones he had pronounced. He let out a humorless laugh, “What, you think you know who I am, then? This is me! Make your fucking peace with it.”

You also left the couch, anger running through your veins as your eyes were focused on the stranger in front of you. “No, I won’t make my fucking peace with it, Rafe! You left for a week, you avoided me, then you come here, in my apartment, and keep ignoring me. I think I deserve an explanation!”

“You know what? Yes, I left for a week and I wanted to come back to my loving girlfriend. Is she here by the way? Because she sure as hell isn’t in front of me now.” He raised his voice once again, his tone accusatory.

Shaking your head, you matched his tone. “Don’t you dare turn this on me! Jesus, Rafe! You’re acting as if you hate me. We haven’t talked for a week and you’re still ignoring me. You’re here and you still feel distant.” Although it went unnoticed by him, a tear ran down your cheek as you pronounced the last words, and even that felt like a punch in the stomach because nothing that you’ve ever done has gone unnoticed by his always attentive gaze. Not a day has gone by where you weren’t his sun and every star in the universe, where you weren’t the reason why to everything, to all of his breaths. And yet, you felt like this has been the first day.

“I’m here, Y/n! I’m fucking here, aren’t I?! Stop lying and bullshitting me with this stuff. God, is this what you always do, you lie to everyone until you find someone better? Huh?! Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your whole world stopped. You felt like the ground beneath you had fallen and had brought you with it. You were gasping for air and felt lightheaded all at once as everything in you ached. How could have he thrown that in your face? Your ears were ringing and your voice broke as you murmured, “Get out.”

The thing is that Rafe had regretted what he had said immediately. The hated filled words had spilled from his venom-tainted lips, but it hadn’t been your fault. Nothing was ever your fault, because you were his universe — you still are and have never stopped, because his whole life revolves around you and he wouldn’t want it any other way. So, he only let out a whispered “What?” as he felt a pang in his chest.

“Get out of my house.” You repeated looking at the ground before you raised your head to stare at him, “Get the fuck out of my house!” You yelled then, pointing towards the door.

He took a step closer to you, “Wait —“

But you were quicker, putting even more space between you, “If that’s what you think of me, why don’t you just break up with me? If that’s how you feel, why are you still with me?”

“Baby —“

“Shut up. Just — Shut up! Get out of my house, I don’t wanna see you.” You raised your voice once again as tears ran freely down your face.

“ I —“ He kept attempting to say anything, to make it right, but you interrupted him each time for the sound of his voice wasn’t a comforting melody anymore, but the reason of your pain.

“I don’t wanna see you again. I don’t wanna hear your voice. Get. Out!” And that’s when you began to physically push him away. He couldn’t stop you, nor did he want to upset you further, therefore he left.

However, he could hear you crying from outside, he listened as you sobbed against the door and punched it. He wished he was able to come back inside and take you in his arms, to console you, but he knew he wasn’t who you wanted in that moment, indeed he was the last person you desired.

But he stayed.

He stayed outside until he listened to the sound of your steps taking you far away from the door; until his back and his legs hurt and he had to sit down; until his heart screamed for you, loudly, bleeding for the tears that he had caused you; until now.

Softly knocking, “Can I come in?” He tries to choke out, the lump in his throat now impossible to swallow. Guilt. That’s what it is.

You’re sitting on your bed, the door of your room showing you the entrance, and you can hear the muffled words coming from the other side, but you won’t give in. You listen to him, pleading for you to let him in, because he wants — no, he needs to know that you’re okay, for he hasn’t heard from you for over three hours.

So, yes. You and Rafe are in a fight, but you’re not sure if this is the end of your relationship as well.

What you’re not aware of is that he has the key sitting in the pocket of his jeans, and although he’s dying to use it, he wishes for you to open the door, for you to tell him that you can find it in your heart to forgive him, to just hear him out; but he knows he doesn’t deserve it. As time passes and the lack of answer continues, his fear increases. Are you okay? That’s all he keeps thinking about. Therefore, he decides to open the door, slowly walking inside while looking for you.

You don’t even raise your head when he comes in, you don’t give him the satisfaction of your attention. Once he enters your room, tears streaming down his face, he reaches his hand to gently cup your cheek, “Baby,” he whispers. But you’re quicker, instinctively running away from his touch. The action breaks him completely.

He falls on his knees, sitting in front of you, as he shows his raised hands to you. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, sweetheart.” He says quietly for the uncomfortable sensation in his throat doesn’t allow him to speak at a normal volume. “I didn’t mean it, please.” Rafe repeats once again before a long string of hushed ‘i’m sorry’s leaves his lips. Finally, he lets his head fall on your closed knees and his fingers delicately grab your calves while the never ending apologies make him sound like a broken record.

You can’t help but cry with him, although your gaze is still on the wall beside you, and yet you can feel the pain written on his features.

“My father was there.” He mumbles against your clothed skin.

“What?” The word leaves your lips but you don’t even realize what you’ve asked until he continues.

“My father was home. He never is when I go back home, but he was there this time.”

You‘ve learned about Rafe’s relationship with his father; he’s told you a lot — actually, he’s told you everything about it, because he wanted you to know him, and you do. You know him better than anyone else in the world. “He was mad. Said that I’m ungrateful for never showing up when he’s there and that this isn’t me. He just— he kept yelling, saying that I’m a piece of shit who deserves nothing. I don’t deserve his kindness, I don’t deserve my sisters, I… I don’t deserve you.” He murmurs the last words, which finally makes you look down at him.

Your heart is in a thousands of pieces as you softly ask, “Me?”

Rafe stares up at you and bloodshot eyes bore into yours. “You. He never stopped saying that, until I believed him. I know you deserve better, I’ve always known that, but I guess hearing this from someone else, out loud, it made it real. So, I pushed you away and I’m sorry. I’m not finding an excuse, I swear, I only want you to know that it’s not your fault and that I take full responsibility.”

In a moment of weakness, you let your hand faintly touch his jaw and your thumb brush against his cheek, causing him to rest his head further in your palm.

“I’m sorry about your father, Rafe, I really am, but what you said hurt me, and I didn’t think it was possible for you to ever cause me so much pain.”

Twisting his neck, he kisses the palm of your hand and tightly shuts his eyes. “I know. I know and I’m sorry. I will regret this for the rest of my life, but I promise you with everything I have, with every single cell of my body, that I will never do that again. And I know how this sounds, but if you just give me one more chance, I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much I want to deserve you.” At last, he gets up and holds your face in his hands. “I love you so much, baby. So, so much.”

“The rest of your life, huh?” You playfully ask.

He lets out a wet chuckle. “The rest of my life, baby. You know I’m here for the long run.”

“You better act like it, then, Cameron.”

Rafe rests his forehead on yours, breathing you in and nodding his head at your words. “Can I kiss you?” He mumbles, his mouth almost touching yours.

“Please.”

Your lips connect to each other’s and it feels as if this is the first time you’ve been able to breathe in the past hours. He goes to sit next to you on the bed, never leaving your lips, before he grabs you and manhandles you until you’re sat on his lap. Rafe holds you impossibly close, scared that you’re going to leave as soon as he lets you go. However, unbeknownst to him, you could never leave him, not when he shows you how much he loves you over and over again, and especially not when you go to sleep in each other’s arms and the only thing that helps you sleep is the feeling of his skin and the sound of his voice, repeatedly whispering ‘i love you’s with his lips pressed against your head.

taglist:

@gemofthenight @vigilanteshitposting @m-indkiller r @buckysdogtags s @yoonabeo @iruzias @babypoguelife @poppet05 @earth2starkey @palmwinemami i @marzipaanz @softherveauxs @sweetestdesire @guililove e @colbysbrocks @magnificantmermaid d @chaostudee @rafesmoon @fangirl-madz @canarysposts @screan @fishingirl12 @darleneslane e @mattyskies @rafecluver @pedrosprincess @jjmaybankisbae @em-dee @rentaldarling @houseofperfecttaste @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @michelle-26 @imawhoreforu @pankowperfection @buckyhad @kliness @sugarcoatedstarkey @starkeybae @lexi1sblog @starxsluv @wickedlovely121 @softlies @outerbankspov @littlefreaksatellite @aris-void @maybankslover @dogmomalsop @savage-aespa @emery-333 @camelliaflow3r @midnightsgetawaycar @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @wpdailyminimeta @cloismami i @madelynie @mskezza @chaeraq @kardamenaa @alexxavicry @strkeys @lovelornanonymity

2K notes · View notes

eros7hanatos · 3 months

Text

➽ Sleepless Nights

Husband!Diluc x wife!afab reader Warnings: smut, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, I think that’s all? Word count: 811 A/N: inspired by rice-hime’s fic “well into the weekend”. Diluc is so husband AND daddy material I can't-

art creds: asterrales

Your hands tightly grip the sheets, trying to claw your way out, weakly pulling yourself forward as Diluc’s firm hands pull your hips back; eliciting a loud moan from you.

“D-Diluc!” you scream, your voice as shaky as the rest of your body. You turned your head back to see the glistening body of your husband. He looked so pretty like this, watching you through his red hair that kept sticking on his face, whether it was from sweat or your cum, you didn't know nor care.

“Didn't you say you wanted us to have a child, love?” he said in a tone so sweet, not matching with his rough and harsh thrusts. You gasped as he reached deeper inside your cunt, pressing onto that sensitive spot. You two had been married for a while now. He was a great husband, however he was almost always busy with work and his own things. You two hadn't had time alone for a long long time, always falling fast asleep before he had even come home. However today was different, Diluc had come back early and you told him how you felt. In a moment of weakness you let slip that you wanted a child.

“You…want a child with me?” he asked, slowly, as if he was thinking hard about what you just said.

“Yes, but it doesn’t have to be now! I understand that you're busy and don't have time. We haven't had sex since our wedding night…you’re probably too tired after working everyday.” you say, you were a bit sad, you had to admit. You would often masterbate alone, missing his fingers, his mouth, his cock… but he was busy, there’s no way he would be able to have time to pleasure you.

“Then it’s a good thing tomorrow's the weekend.” he surprised you. You look at him, wide eyed.

“B-but what about the tavern? and the winery? They’re both open on weekends.”

“Fuck it. One weekend is worth putting a baby in you.”

And that’s how you got to this situation. Completely fucked out under Diluc. Archons, how long has it been? You then feel that familiar sensation in your lower abdomen, cunt clenching around Diluc’s cock. You screamed, but no noise came out of your throat as you came once more, sucking your husband dry.

“F-fuck. Y-you have such a beautiful cunt, love. All mine. Let me fill you up again, fill you up until I’m sure you’ll bear my child.”

His pace slows, pulling his cock out just below the tip to watch the mixture of yours and his juices ooze out of you before slamming back in. Even as his pace slowed, you felt as if he reached even deeper inside you, poking your womb gently. As if giving it a gentle kiss every time he thrusted.

“D-Diluc!” you moan, chanting his name over and over again, like a mantra. You can feel every inch of his cock, every vein, every crevice rubbing against your walls wet with slick. The sounds of vulgar and messy sex that bounces off the walls drives you crazy, the stench of his cum and yours adding to your madness. “F-feels so good. N-need more of your- Ahh! c-cum!”

“I’ll give it all to you, love. Sh-shit- you’re clenching so tight. J-just lie back there while I pump you full of my seed.”

You feel your cunt pulse, clenching and convulsing, that familiar electric feeling had come to greet you once more. “D-Diluc! C-cumming! ‘M c-cumming!”

“Hah, hold it out, please, for me love? Want us to- Ngh! C-cum together.” Diluc grunts, fastening his pace and deepening his thrusts, reaching places that you’ve never known he could. You whine and scream, trying your best to delay your high as tears fall from your eyes.

“D-Diluc!”

“A-almost there, love. Gonna put a baby in you!” he says, looking at you through the curtain of his blazing red hair once more, his grip tight on your hips as he slams into you over and over, chasing his own high. With a few more harsh thrusts, Diluc grunts, “C-cum for me love. G-gonna breed you so well-”

You both scream, almost in unison, reaching your peaks as a familiar warmth fills your insides. His thrusts continue, letting you ride your high as well as his as he continues giving you his seed which you welcome with open arms, ahem, open legs.

After a moment he stills inside you as your head falls onto the bed sheets below you. You breath heavily then let out a loud gasp as you feel rough fingers brush your clit gently.

“D-Diluc?!” you say, breathlessly as it turns into a moan. Suddenly, you felt his hips snap into action, slamming into your still sensitive cunt as you cry out in overstimulation.

“I said the weekend. We’ve barely even started, love~”

#Diluc #Diluc smut #Diluc Ragnvindr #Diluc Ragnvindr smut #Genshin smut #Genshin impact smut #Diluc x afab reader

2K notes · View notes

crazy4leclerc · 2 months

Text

“i want to claim what’s mine.” — m.v

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: after maxs’ DNF in australia, he finally comes out on top in japan and he has a certain way of celebrating the victory with you

warnings: smut!, possessive!max, cursing, partying, dom!max, mentions of alcohol, thigh riding, eating out, and p in v

a/n: i saw these pics on pinterest and went absolutely feral… bc i know max has a feral side to him. also pls enjoy the cute lil fan interaction at the beginning!! this fic is long so enjoy the ride ;)

—

i’m currently sitting on the edge of my seat in the garage watching the race with anxiety pumping through my veins. charles is currently in the lead as he got ahead of max when he pitted. im biting on my nails because i know how badly max needs to win this race since he DNF in australia.

i stay concentrated on the screen as max closes in the gap between him and charles. i feel my shoulders tense as they turn corners and max is right on charles’ tail.

coming up on the straight stretch, max finally gains enough speed to pass charles. “fuck yes! that’s my man!” i jump up from my chair and yell, pumping my fist in victory.

the rest of the race flew by easily. max was lapping people towards the end and checo was almost 15 seconds behind him. with a smirk on my face, i walk outside the garage and head over the the 1st place marker where max will be parking his car soon.

i watch as all the fans swarm into place behind the barrier as there is only a couple of laps left.

“y/n, can i get a picture?!” i hear a fan ask and i turn my shoulder over to see a little girl probably at the age of nine, with a smile on my face i walk over to her.

“of course you can get a picture.” i tell her, smiling down at her. she smiles at me and hands me the phone in her hand. i take it from her and snap a couple of pictures of us.

“can you give this to max and tell him i’m proud of him?” she asks me, taking a beaded bracelet off her small wrist. my eyes soften at her as i crouch down to her level. “of course i will. he will love this.” i tell her truthfully and she giggles.

“i have one for you, too!” she tells me and she goes to but the bracelet on my wrist. “thank you, i promise to never take it off.” she reaches over the barrier to give me a side hug and i obliged, squeezing her. “thank you, y/n. i’m your biggest fan!” she squeals to me, “you are, indeed.” i smile and let go of her and i realize the race is almost over.

“let’s watch max come across the finish line!” i tell her and she cheers along with me as we watch max speed down the straight stretch and the checkered flag waves. me and her cheer together as loud as we can.

“he did it!” she yells and i smile, “he did. we’re both so proud of him.”

i watch as maxs’ car approaches us and parks in the 1st place slot. he climbs out of his car and stands on the top, throwing his fist in the air as the crowd roars for him.

i run over to his car as he hops down, his arms wide open for me as i jump into them. “maxie, you did it! i’m so proud of you!” i tell him as he spins me around, laughing through his helmet. he sets me down and takes his helmet and balaclava off, his cheeks are flushed red from the marks and heat from the balaclava but that doesn’t stop him from smiling so big.

“thank you, schat. you’re my number one supporter.” he grabs my face and tells me but i shake my head no, “i’m actually not. i think there’s some one else who is more of a fan than me.” i tell him and he looks at me confused but i turn and point over to the little girl as she waves at us both. max waves back at her with a smile on his face.

“she wanted me to give you this and tell you that she is very proud of you.” i say while putting the bracelet on his wrist. i can see his face soften at the kind act as he kisses me on the forehead and makes his way over to her.

with a smile on my face, i stand back and watch as the fans congratulate max and so does his team.

before i know it, im listening to the dutch anthem being played and watch as max, checo, and carlos spray eachother with the champagne.

i feel my insides turn as max looks up at with a smirk on his face as the champagne roles down his neck and face.

feeling my body heat up at how he looks, carlos distracts him as he spray it all over his face. max sticks his tongue out letting the champagne get into his mouth. i giggle to myself at their little interaction.

once they’re all out of champagne, max bends down a bit, letting the champagne roll off his body. he runs his hand through his freshly cut and now sticky hair and with a devilish smirk in his face.

man am i in for it tonight.

—

after the race, me and max went back to our hotel room so we could both clean up and get ready for the after party.

“so where exactly are we going for the party?” i ask max while im currently doing my makeup in our shared hotel bathroom.

“it’s at yuki’s since he wants us to all see his new place he got.” he responds back to me through the glass of the shower.

humming a response, i focus on getting my eyeshadow just right as max turns off the shower and steps out. not even paying attention, i feel his hands grab my waist from behind and the heat off his steaming body.

“you don’t even need all this makeup, schatje.” his warm breath fans over my ear and i shudder. “maybe not, but i want people to know how sexy max verstappens girlfriend is.” i shrug and continue to work on my eyeshadow. gripping my waist tightly max kisses the back of my neck, “well it’s too bad that you’re all mine.” his voice dark and laced with possession.

i gulp and just focus on finishing my makeup. “did you hear me?” he reaches up and grips my chin in his hand, looking at me darkly through the mirror. “yes, maxie. i heard you and you are right. i am all yours.” pleasant with my response, he lets go of my chin and kisses my cheek, “just making sure, sweetheart.” i roll my eyes and giggle at his possessiveness.

“don’t laugh, i know it turns you on.” he says as he lets go of me and walks away. “my lips are sealed, verstappen.”

—

on the way to yuki’s house, i swear max could not keep his hands off me. i wasn’t complaining but i think him winning again had an affect on his actions.

his hand was gripping my thigh as we pull up to yuki’s. “holy shit, his place is nice.” i say aloud and max laughs at my sudden outburst. “it is, indeed.” he parks the car and gets out quickly to come open my door. giving me his outstretched hand, i grab it and we walk in together with his arm wrapped around my waist and my hand gripping his bicep.

every single driver was here tonight and the place was buzzing with excitement.

walking in, we’re greeted by yuki as we both congratulate him on doing good at the race and on his new place. “it’s gorgeous yuki, i love it!” i tell him and he thanks me.

i give max a tap on the bicep to let him know i’m going to go to the bar to get a drink and he nods, kissing my cheek and continuing his conversation with yuki.

once i’m at the bar, i ask for a cocktail and whiskey for max. “fancy seeing you here.” a thick british accent appears next to me as i snap my head in the direction it came from.

i’m met with brown eyes and a smirk on his face. “lando. what a pleasure seeing you.” i reply back sarcastically and he laughs. “i’m honestly surprised you showed up for once.” he makes a jab at me since i wasn’t able to be at the last party (which im convinced is why max DNF) because i wasnt able to make it to the race.

“well sometimes life gets in the way, wouldn’t you like to know that?” i jab back at him. “you’re feisty tonight then what you normally are.” he says as i watch him grab his drink and down it. “yeah, cause i got some asshole making jabs at me for actually having a life. my bad for missing one race. what’s it to you anyway?” i hiss at him sipping on my drink.

“lando, lay off will you?” thank god someone is saving me. i watch carlos appear next to me, giving me a sympathetic smile. “i’m not doing anything, i swear, just giving the pretty girl a hard time.” he smirks and i roll my eyes.

“i don’t even think you’d be tolerable even if i was drunk, norris.” i say as i down my cocktail. carlos laughs next to me patting me on the shoulder. “good one there, y/n.” lando scoffs and asks the bartender for more to drink.

“where is my knight in shining amour when i need him.” i groan. “seems that he’s too busy for you, wouldn’t you like to know?” lando smirks at me and i want to slap it off his face. “god and to think i actually liked you at some point. no wonder carlos left mclaren.” i say and stand up to walk away but someone grips my wrist.

“y/n, cmon, i’m only playing-“ lando is suddenly cut off by him being shoved away from me.

“and just what the fuck do you think you’re doing touching my girl like that?” oh thank god.

“max, i’m sorry, i was only giving her a hard time-“

“i don’t give a fuck,” i watch as max grips his shirt collar, “you stay the fuck away from her, especially when you’re wasted off your ass.” he pushes lando away and i watch as lando stumbles away from the bar. i look over at carlos as he goes to clap max on the back.

“there’s the knight and shining armor!” he says and i feel my whole body relax as max wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my into him. “are you okay, schat?” he whispers in my ear and i nod.

“and for the record, y/n, lando isn’t why i left, sadly to your dismay.” i giggle at carlos’ response and he gives me and max a smile and walks away.

“i need to get the fuck out of here.” max says and i furrow my brows, “why? we just got here?” i says confused as he grips my hips and pulls me so im flushed against his front, “because i want to claim what’s mine.”

—

i knew at the race today this is how tonight would’ve ended. but after the whole incident with lando it was like something primal took over max.

“maxie, slow down.” i say as i try to catch my breath from the heated makeout session me and max are having against our hotel door.

“hush, baby.” he says as he runs his hand up my body to put his pointer finger over my lips, which does shut me up.

“lemme take care of you.” he nearly whines as he picks me up and my legs straddle his waist. he walks us over to the bed and lays me down. keeping my mouth shut like i’m ordered, i feel max’s hands run down my legs as he grips my thighs to pull me closer. he kneels down on the side of the bed as he begins to kiss my inner thighs.

i’m so fucked.

i try to not make a sound as his fingers work their way up to my lacy panties. his fingers hook into them and yank them down. “are you wet?” he asks and i shake my head yes. but it clearly wasn’t good enough for him as he suddenly grips my throat in his hands, “i need a verbal response.”

“yes! i’m wet, i have been ever since you saved me from lando.” i confessed and he smirked, “that’s my good girl.” he says as he starts to mark my neck, “i gotta show some of those assholes who you belong to.”

suddenly, max’s other hand goes up under my dress and begins to stroke my clit, “you’re soaked, sweetheart.” and i whine in his ear. i feel his finger suddenly slide into my pussy.

it doesn’t take me long before i can feel myself unravel against him. “max, baby-“ i pant against his neck. “hm?” i feel him insert another finger and i squeeze my eyes shut.

“maxie, please, eat me out.” i whine to him and he stops working against my neck, nipping one last time, he gives me a harsh kiss on the lips and slides his hand out from under my dress. i watch as he takes his two fingers up to his mouth and licks me off of them.

“since you asked so nicely, i will.” he says as he grips my thighs and kneels down off the bed. pulling me close to him, he doesn’t give me a second to process before he dives right in, letting a loud moan out of me. “holy shit! max!” i feel him smirk against me as he grips my thighs so hard i know there will be bruises.

“i can’t help it, schatje. you taste too good and no one else will ever get to taste you.” he mumbles against me as i move my hips against his tongue. his stubble scratching against me turns me on even more and before i know it, im letting go all over his face.

“fuck, pretty girl. all this for me?” he asks and i whine out and yes. “mm, that’s what i thought. no one else gets you like this.” he says before he’s diving right back into my cunt for more.

“max, i can’t take it anymore!” i cry and he nips my clit to get me to shut up. i don’t last long at all and im letting go all over him again.

he lets go and stands up quickly, throwing his dark blue shirt off as im completely dazed. i feel his hands grip my waist as he flips me over and begins to unzip my dark blue dress.

“my teams color looks so good on you, love.” he whispers to me as im still trying to catch my breath. he pulls my dress off gently and turns me back over so i can see him. i reach my hands up to his pants and hook my fingers through his belt loop. “will only ever look this good for you.” i tell him and grabs my throat to pull me in for a heated kiss.

“i love when my girl knows who she belongs to.” he says as he sits on the bed as i straddle his thighs. “of course i do. im all yours.” i say as i begin to grind against his thigh. “fuck, schat.” he groans and i hold on his shoulders for support.

“i love the possessive side of you so much, maxie.” i whine to him as he grabs my hips to guide me against his thigh.

“good, baby. cause it’s not going anywhere.” he says and begins to leave marks on the other side of my neck as i work myself against his clothed thigh.

after hitting my climax for my 3rd time tonight, max still isn’t satisfied as he wipes my juices of his pants and licks it off his fingers. max grabs my wrist in his big hand and that’s when i noticed our matching bracelets the little girl gave us.

“max, look at our bracelets.” i tell him and he looks down, a smile gracing our lips.

“i’m assuming that’s our ship name?” he says and i giggle nodding my head. “that’s adorable, i’m never taking it off.” as he lays me down on the bed. he kisses me passionately as i feel him brush against my clit. whining into the kiss he finally pushes into me all the way as we both let out a satisfied moan.

“it’s the best feeling knowing i’m the only one who gets you like this.” he whispers to me, “i feel the same way, maxie.” he finally begins to thrust in out of me as he presses down onto my abdomen. “fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

and i took pride into that knowing max verstappen was all i needed.

—

a/n: oml i just wrote my first smut.

#nat writes #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 #f1 x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fluff #smut

871 notes · View notes

loveindefinitely · 4 months

Text

guess who? | feat. task force 141

-> minor bdsm, dom/sub dynamics, polyamory. ⚔️

your moans are high and breathy, lips spit-slicken and open as thick fingers thrust into you in an endless pattern. the blindfold wrapped around your eyes feels like torture, not being able to see your partners as you're fucked relentlessly.

"please, fuck, need you," you whine, squirming where your wrists are tied together, and your ankles are tied to the bedposts.

all you can think about; all you can feel, taste, touch -- is the slide of a dick against your pussy, the high of sex. even the tantalising, devastating fact dancing in the back of your mind doesn't minimise the pleasure flooding your body.

a light slap to your cheek has you letting out a pathetic whine.

"aww, love," kyle coos, "you know what you gotta do. be a good girl for us, hey?"

and, yes, you know that you have to do something. you're not entirely sure if it's even important, anymore, though -- if it even matters. nothing feels quite as significant as your impending orgasm.

a particularly rough thrust has you groaning, a tear leaking down your cheek from behind the blindfold.

"guess who, angel," simon mutters, a threat underlying his words.

he doesn't give away anything, but even after multiple rounds of edging, he barely lets out a whimper. he's stone cold, just as johnny always said.

"i --" you hiccup, squirming in your restraints, "i can't, please just let me cum --"

a pull at your hair has you crying out.

"you know the rules, darlin' girl. guess right, you can cum as much as you want."

john.

your captain.

his voice is rough and just slightly too condescending to be sweet. you can't find it in yourself to mind, not really, not when that relentless heat in your stomach feels like it's about to reach its peak.

"use yer pretty head, lass," johnny snickers, cruel, just this side of perfect. if you could get any wetter -- that would do it.

"or did we fuck 'er too dumb?" kyle taunts, a following hiss reminding you that they were all probably kissing each other too. or.

fuck.

your chest falls in heavy sweeps, sweat clinging to your skin, the smell of sex and cum and love in the air --

"john. it's --" you inhale a deep, shaky breath, "john."

"oh, good girl," john praises, a hand falling into your hair and combing through the ends in gentle strokes.

elation fills you, relief flooding your veins, so close --

"but you're wrong."

the thrusts stop, and tears fall from your eyes and trail down your cheeks as you hiccup sobs.

you were so damn close.

a mouth brushes against your ear, and you fail to supress a shudder, the movement so sensual it has your pulse racing tenfold.

it's simon.

"time for a new game, hm?"

2K notes · View notes

tojisun · 4 months

Text

simon ghost riley x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; extended foreplay teehee (fingering); mentioned switching

simon hums, the sound rumbling from the base of his throat. you startle, your eyes ripping open and you swivel to turn to him, forgetting, for a moment, that he's here.

that he's been watching you.

he smirks like he noticed; knowing him, he definitely did. still, it makes you self-conscious and you go to shut your legs close, hoping to shield yourself from his gaze, but simon moves so quickly, his warm palm landing on the inside of your thigh to push it down.

"no-"

"shh," he says. "y've got nothin' to be shy about, baby." he grins, all dangerous and mean. “we both know you've long crossed that bridge.”

you huff, rolling your eyes even when you let yourself be manhandled to the position he wants you in—spread open for him; presented for him.

he rumbles in pleasure, eyes darkening in rippling desire.

"c'mon, pretty, girl," simon murmurs, his fingers tickling the sensitive expanse of your inner thigh, making you tremble. "y'were just showing me how you play w'yourself when i'm not around."

the reminder makes you hiccup, shyness creeping up in slow drawls. you feel warmth filling up your cheeks and you duck down, hiding away from the intensity of his honeyed eyes.

simon chuckles. “such a doll, aren’ya?”

you ignore him and the way his words make your face burn, choosing instead to return to what you were doing—your fingers trembling as they begin to tease along your folds again. the previous sensitivity that you were riding off of has petered away but it was so easy to re-spark it, especially now that simon is touching you. the loose hold he has on your ankle makes your skin thrum and you use the hyperawareness to ramp up the flicking desire into an explosion of untethering euphoria.

your fingers aren’t enough—simon made sure, after all, that your body can only ever cum because of him—but he’s so close. he’s watching you and you take advantage of the attention.

you moan his name, a breathy little thing that rasps itself out from the base of your throat.

“si- si-!”

there is something doctored in the way you mewl, but who can blame you? yes, you’re giving him something to watch, but you’re desperate for more. you try your best to rile him up because you’re desperate for his own fingers or, and this one truly makes your breath hitch, his cock.

simon’s beautiful, beautiful cock.

god, the way it curves. the way the head is pink because simon’s so pale all over. the way his pre- beads like pretty pearls, always has you lolingl your tongue out to catch them before they drip. the way his veins surround the expanse of his girth, drawing his cock to look so macho, especially when you close your first around it.

“fuck-!”

thinking about simon’s cock makes you even wetter, slick gathering between your fingers. you punch the length of them as deep as they can go, crooking them and spreading them apart as your orgasm begins to build, pooling in your belly, making your toes curl.

“simon, please!”

your moans are more honest this time. more truthful despite the pitch that they’ve taken.

“need y’r cock. need y- no!”

you tear your eyes open—you didn’t realize you’ve even shut them tight—at the feeling of simon’s fist closing around your wrist, holding it steady, making you freeze. the peak of your orgasm crumbles, your legs trembling at the feeling of having it be ripped from you.

“no!” you cry again, thrashing. “why’d you stop me?! wanna cum, please, baby? wanna cum, please!”

“shit, lovie,” simon rasps out, looking dishevelled himself. your eyes flick down to his waist and you realize, with a coo, that he’s taken his cock out to palm himself while watching you.

you bite down a smile at the realization—you’ve won.

“y’almost made me jealous of y’r pretty fingers,” he croaks. you track the way his chest heaves, his muscles and his pecs rippling underneath the tight shirt he’s wearing. “lemme fuck you now, yeah, baby? y’want that?”

you lick your bottom lip, trilling to yourself when simon’s sharp eyes zone in on the action and tracking it with vivid intensity.

you hum then, teasing, and you shake his hold off of your wrist which simon easily acquiesces. he watches as you pull your fingers out of your cunt, slow and deliberate, before presenting them to him, the length of them having a thin sheen because of your slick.

“lick f’r me?” is what you reply to him instead.

simon full body trembles before circling your wrist for the second time today. this time, though, with a different purpose. he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he drops his jaw open to take your fingers in.

you mewl at the same time that simon groans and, you wonder, if you can last another round after this. maybe you’d bring out your strap then.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #female reader #suns

1K notes · View notes

urfavleo777 · 7 months

Text

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, oral (m receiving), choking, hair pulling, fluff.

It was an October evening. The sun had long since set, causing all the streetlights to go out. Now, the moonlight shining through the window was the only light you could use to continue reading your favorite book.

Accompanied by the sound of rain, you devoured the pages of The Picture of Dorian Gray. With a sigh, you turned the next page. You were getting close to the end, which made you even more sadder. Your weak spot was your attachment to books and some people.

Specifically to one person.

“Baby?“ Your boyfriend's voice caught your attention. You put the book on the bedside table and bit your lip at the sight of your boyfriend standing in only his lovely pink pajama pants. “Are you still reading?”

“Oh..“ you sighed softly, completely dazed.

"Whoa, you alright?" Colby looked down at you, concerned on his face, "Y/n."

You shake your head slightly, "Yeah." You stand up straight, "You just.." You found a more comfortable position, "Look so beautiful tonight"

“Only tonight?” he laughed brilliantly, moving closer to the bed. Then he lay down and took you in his arms, giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. You immediately forgot about the plot of the book that you were reading eagerly just moments ago.

You gently brushed his hair away and planted a kiss on his bare shoulder, only realizing you'd tickled him when you heard a small, muffled laugh come from the crook of your neck where Colby was resting his head.

During that quiet intimate moment the only sounds that could be heard in the room were your breaths and the sound of your kisses.

“Have I interrupted you in anything?“ he murmured dreamily, after a while.

“No, I was just reading.” You denied it immediately.

"I love you." He muttered as he gently pulled away from him, after some moments, and you cupped his face in your hands after tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “We can continue, if you want.”

“Continue what?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Reading your book.” He replied with embarrassment.

"My sweet, smart boy." You laughed before placing a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you too. And sure, we can continue reading my beloved Dorian Gray.”

“Oh.” He clutched his heart dramatically.

A smile appeared on your face. “Are you jealous because of a fictional character?”

He pretended to feel offended, making you laugh again. Just as he was about to answer, the loud sound of thunder interrupted him. You flinched unexpectedly.

Now he was the one laughing. You huffed in mock outrage.

“My little girl is afraid of thunderstorms?” He gently ran his fingers through your hair’s. “Let me take care of you properly, love.”

You nodded and tried not to smile too wide when you leaned in to kiss him.

You do a whole lot more than just kiss him, though. You open his mouth with your own and lick inside with a confident tongue. You take the breath from his lungs with little effort, leaving him more breathless than he has been all night.

“Wanna suck you off,” you murmured, slurred and muffled against his mouth.

Colby breathed out a laugh, one mixed with amusement and disbelief. “I rarely know this side of you, babe.” He told you, smoothing wide palms up and down your arms.

“Do you want a blowjob or not?”

“Well, yeah, but I—”

“Good,” you hummed with a smile before sinking to your knees in front of him. You unbuttoned his pants and free his half-hard cock from the confines of his pants. You tugged at the hem of his underwear until his heavy balls hang over the plaid fabric.

Finally you decided to have mercy on him as you flattened your tongue against his dick, deciding to follow the vein from his base to his tip. Colby let out a high-pitched whine followed by a "thank you", but you didn’t really care. Yes, it felt good for him, but this was also for your pleasure. You swirled your tongue around his leaking tip, tasting the salty essen.

“Jesus fucking christ— you’re so pretty, baby— fuck.” He tilted his head back, gripping the sheets. “Fuck, please baby. Don't stop.”

You smiled up at the wrecked man, the man begging for you to continue. You could feel the light pressure of his hand against your head trying to push you closer to his groin.

“Can I kiss you?” He surprised himself as the question had left his mouth.

“Please.” you whined with desperation, making Colby groan as his lips found yours in a frenzy.

Your fingers slowly trailed down, finally wrapping your dainty hand around the sheer girth and length that was Colby’s cock.

Another unashamed whimper fell from between his pretty lips.

“That feels good, baby?” You murmured into his mouth between the smacks that echoed off the walls.

“Fuck, yeah mhm, it does.” He rushed out awkwardly, making you giggle into the kiss.

You took him back into your mouth, but that time without mercy as you relaxed your throat, slowly moving down inch by delicious inch as you tried not to gag, his tip now bullying your uvula like his own personal punching bag.

You fucked his aching cock into your throat, bobbing your head up and down, over and over.

“I need your cock so bad Colby.” You moaned.

“Use me, please. J-just fuck, just use me pretty girl.” Colby whimpered.

“Yes, sir.” You whispered into his ear before placing a gentle kiss there. You turned around, hand grabbing onto his still hard cock, you lower yourself into his lap, pink tip already prodding at your hole as your back became flush with his chest, you lay your head back against his shoulder and burrowed it into his neck, both of you moaning in unison as you sink onto him, slowly.

He was so big it was like he was ripping you in half, but you welcomed the burn. The pleasure and pain of it all made your cunt drip even more, further creating less pain and a whole lot more pleasure.

“Shit, you’re so wet and so fucking warm, baby.” Colby huffed.

You wailed as your legs begin to shake, your cunt clenching around him as your nails digging into his thighs that continue to slap up into the backs of yours.

“Colby– I’m cumming, oh my god!” You sobbed, when the most intense pleasure was coursing through your body, turning you into a twitching mess.

“Fuck, me too baby, wher-” He didn’t even get to finish, before you were begging him to cum inside you. Of course he obliged, eyes rolling back into his head and cock throbbing as his heavy load shot deep inside you.

“Goddammit.” He whispered into your neck.

The intensity of the moment consumed you, as he poured every ounce of himself into you, leaving you both utterly spent and satisfied. You both were breathless and drenched in perspiration, your legs entwined with his.

The storm seemed to be going away, the quiet rumbling was barely audible. All of a sudden the street lights came back up. Colby chuckled and sighed.

“So, you still want to read that book of yours again?”

#colby brock #colby brock smut #colby brock fanfic #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach smut #sam and colby smut #colby brock x reader #sam and colby #colby brock fanfiction #hell week #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock fluff #sam golbach #colby brock imagine

2K notes · View notes

studioghibelli · 1 month

Text

the old man and the sea- a joel miller x reader fic

summary: grief is a sacred thing, a nasty thing, a sensual thing. it grips you from the inside until there's nothing left but a void of darkness- a void that can never be filled. joel miller knows this fact very well, and all he wants to do is save you.

warnings: girthed up age gap (college age!reader x 50’s age joel), i’m exploring a new type of writing ok let me COOK!!!! idk i am delusional, reader has hair that at least reaches her neck, cigarette use, this whole thing is basically an allegory for grief and growing but there also a lot of sexy smut soooo yeah. (mentions of death and two brief mentions of suicide, but nothing too detailed.) that being said, smut (f receiving oral sex, soft kissy missionary sex, unprotected piv sex, some 'dirty' talk, etc.)

note: this has NOT been proofread or edited. any mistakes are mine. i just hate going back and editing lmao. enjoy! xx

In the august days of your youth, when the rocky line of the coast line glimmered beneath the flame of the sun, when the foamy waves would pool by your sandy feet, you could remember the towering lighthouse just south of the beach, the way it stood tall and proud, like the statues of Roman soldiers you knew from your school encyclopedias. It was vibrant and alive, no more dead than the clams bubbling beneath the surface of the ocean, no more dead than the bellowing of the whales far off the shore.

You remember how it would speak to you, late at night when you would walk alone, hoping to catch the light reflecting off the tail of a pretty mermaid, hoping that the local legends of talking fish would come poke their heads above the water, speaking to you in riddles from days gone by.

You remember the words of the light which shone strong from above, circling above your head , like the passing lights of a traveling carnival, your eyes caught like a moth roaming towards the flames, lost in the eternal beauty of its golden light.

Come to me, child. Let the lighthouse unburden your pain.

But back then, when you were quick to scare despite your steadfast stubbornness, you never garnered enough courage to explore behind its walls.

Now college had passed, and you moved back home to your parent's rickety beach house, alone behind her comforting wooden exterior. This home. This home that was once so full of life. This home that held warm laughter and late night board games. This home that housed your closest friends and their secrets of crushes and undeciphered dreams. This home where you grew into a young woman full of life and beauty, clever and brilliant.

This home that was now empty.

You had got the call the week after finals.

We're so sorry, they went out fishing and a storm came. We never found them.

Oh, yes.

Adventure pumped through your veins, the taste for freedom like salty water on your tongue. You knew where you got it from, you always had. Your sweet family, your loving parents. Full of life like that lighthouse, full of of love like the sun.

Now they were nothing, and this house was nothing. Those years of laughter and secrets and adventure were nothing.

Nothing.

Your favorite word these days.

Going through belongings and shuffling through old books had taken almost a weeks worth of tears. Hot, tepid, angry tears.

How dare they leave you alone? How dare they forsake you like this?

The thought of crashing water and striking lightning was almost too much to bare.

When the storm had rolled in that morning, you had been tucked away in the alcove of your kitchen, nursing a steaming mug that was more cream than coffee. You watched the droplets of rain paint pictures on the window, you watched nature wring her tears across the fluttering branches of trees, cracking soft splashes across the pavement with each gust of air. Your chest felt heavy with thoughts of them.

Mom and dad.

Mamma and papa.

Perhaps it was in hopes you would feel some comfort, perhaps it was in hopes you would feel whole. If you could just stare out at the ocean that took them, maybe they would speak to you. Maybe those fairytale fish would poke their heads up from the water and exclaim to you how happy your parents were, how they were fitting right in, how they had invited Mrs. Dolphin over for tea last Saturday, and how they were finally warming up to the funny shark that always lurked in the seaweed.

You stood barefoot on the cragged rock, staring out at the roaring waves, with nothing but the lull of distant seagulls and the song of incoming thunder.

No fish. No parents. No Mrs. Dolphin. Just another season of storms and a crater in your heart.

Your throat was raw from all the screaming. You danced to your fight song as you let the rain take you, your clothes felt like skin from how soaked through they were. Heavy drapes of fabric that cemented you in place on that cragged rock. That cragged rock that dripped with the blood of your raw heels, your toes scraped and ruined from the sandy surface.

It was dark by the time the storm rolled out, dark by the time your back found the safety of the sand, dark by the time your hair clung to your neck and became tangled up with the seashells.

There was a glowing orb of light far off in the distance that you could just make out through the hazy fog of your eyelashes, and you realized it was growing closer, the old handle of a lantern creaking through the night.

"Hello?" The voice was rough and unknown to your ears, yet held a certain warmth despite the weariness.

"Yes?" You asked softly, refusing to open your eyes. If you opened your eyes, all of this was real, all of this was raw, all of this was right there.

"Are you.... okay?"

"Yes."

The lantern creaked once more, and you heard the shuffle of fabric as the man leaned forward, pressing his knuckles to your cheek. "You're colder than a reindeer's antlers, girl." His touch was warm, his hand a welcome solace from the rain. "You live around here?"

You didn't want to go back to that house. You didn't want to smell their detergent or see their old clothes. You didn't want to waltz through that kitchen or hear the creak of those old stairs.

Perhaps it was from the way your lip quivered, from the rain or from the cold, perhaps it was from the defeat in your voice, or the weightlessness of your soul, but the man before you knew he had to do something about it. How could he not? You were laying there like a pile of unfolded laundry, and no one else was around to fold it all.

You felt an arm slip behind your back.

"C'mon, stand up with me. On three."

You groaned softly, using a thick arm as leverage as the mystery man helped you stand off the ground. When you opened your eyes, you saw a pair of umber orbs staring at you, tracing over your face, every line, scar, freckle, dent, he was soaking you in like a sponge, as though he wanted to know your face just from memory.

"I'm Joel."

Joel.

He was handsome, that was the first thing you noticed about him. You felt your stomach churn at the feeling, angry you could find him so beautiful, despite the darkness which shrouded over you. Joel was broad and rugged, no doubt rough around the edges. He was adorned with various scars and random freckles, with thick eyebrows and broad shoulders, plush lips and kind eyes- hardened by time, no doubt, but beautiful all the same.

You know you mumbled your name out somewhere along the walk, eyes cloudy with tears. It was a miracle you managed to speak anything at all.

As you neared the lighthouse, you realized just how foreboding it truly was. Its paint was cracking, yet its foundation remained firm, and it towered up into the clouds like a Medieval castle. Behind it's white structure you saw a small cabin, warm light seeping through the misty windows, painting the green grass with splatters of sunshine.

When Joel opened the door, an old dog sitting in front of the fireplace lifted his head, the soft thump of a tail beating against the wooden floors. His fur was gray and his eyes were old, his long fur a mixture of brown, black, and white patches. Like a makeshift quilt.

Quilts. Your mother used to make those.

"That's Moby." Joel explained, setting a kettle on the old gas stove. "Sit down. You're trailing blood." You felt embarrassment creep up your neck, and he must have noticed the way your eyes darted with shame. "No, no. I didn't mean it like that. Let me fix up your cuts. I-.... I wasn't trying to be a dick." He spoke like this was his first time having human interaction in a decade, and by the way he moved, you might have been right.

He fumbled through drawers and cabinets, eventually finding a metal first aid kit that had begun resting at the edges years ago. Joel pulled up a dining room chair in front of you with a loud screech, peering up at you as he shuffled through the remnants of the kit.

"What were you doing out there?" He asked, gently grabbing your ankle. He guided it to his lap, inspecting the raw flesh of your soles.

"Exploring."

"Exploring what?"

"Myself."

You felt his shoulders jerk with a bit of a laugh. Normally, you would not have gone home with a stranger. Normally, you would not have let a random man place your legs on his lap or nurse you up.

But then again, nothing was normal anymore. Normal was home. Normal was family. Normal was homecooked meals and late night board games and sleepovers and secrets and.... well, none of this.

The hot stream of tears threatened the dam that rest just above your waterline. Joel noticed, but he didn't say anything.

His calloused thumb rested on the side of your foot, the sting of alcohol soaked pads causing you to wince.

"I know." He muttered through an unlit cigarette which dangled from his mouth, the lines of his forehead prominent with each movement he made. "There we go. Right one's done. Let me see the left."

You obeyed wordlessly, gently propping it up onto his thigh. He repeated his previous work until that foot was cleaned and patched.

Joel stared at you. The tea kettle behind him was whistling for attention, its top sputtering from the roaring boil of water.

"Earl gray or green?" He asked as he rummaged for two cups, blowing the dust off of one. You watched Joel stare at one of the cups for a beat too long.

"Earl gray." You croaked, blinking hard. You felt wetness by your hand. When you looked down, the black nose of a dog was pressing into your palm. Your fingers found his fur, rubbing that spot right behind his ear that made his back leg go crazy. Who couldn't smile at that?

Moby laid down, his fur a puddle at the base of your chair as he rested his snout atop your foot. You stared at him, welcoming the softness of his body against yours.

"Moby is a sweet dog. He's old. Rarely gets up from that bed." Joel explained, handing you a cup. The words World's Best Dad were fading at the sides. This cup must have been older than you.

"I like him." You let the liquid glide down your throat with each sip, savoring the warmth it provided you. At the first sign of a shiver, Joel had wrapped a blanket around your shoulders.

"Why are you being so kind to me? You don't even know me."

Joel sat back down across from you with a soft groan, the ache in his bones creaking like an old, rusting elevator shaft. "I do know you."

"Have we met before?" Your eyebrow raised with interest, and you looked at him wearily, trying to deduce what he was up to.

"No. But I know what grieving looks like." There was a long pause before Joel decided to speak again. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"What? No!" You guffawed, neck snapping up to shoot him a scowl. "Of course not."

"Look. If you walked up on a half dead, soaking wet person on the shore, during the aftermath of a storm, you'd be thinking the same thing." He defended himself sternly, setting his cup down.

There was a thick moment of quietness.

"Those were your parents, weren't they?" His voice was barely a whisper. It floated through the air like smoke off a candle, hitting you in the face.

"Yes."

"It was all over the news. Loads of us went out there, tried to find them."

"They're out there somewhere. Fish food." Your voice was bitter.

Joel didn't say anything. He just sat and stared. You stared back.

It became a ritual after that night. You were over there every evening, usually with a paper bag full of groceries and treats for Moby. You taught Joel how to make Paprikash and Japchae, you taught Moby how to fist bump with his nose (old dogs can learn new tricks), and you taught yourself how to laugh again.

Laughing. Such an odd thing to do in the aftermath of grief. Such a weird feeling to allow ones self to feel after weeks of chaos.

And Joel, he had his uses too.

Joel taught you how to do a fishtail braid, he taught you how to use a fly rod, and what the inside of a lighthouse looks like. Joel taught you how to smile again, he taught you what the feeling of freedom felt like once more.

Summer faded into autumn, and the orange and yellow trees began to paint the prettiest of pictures on the canvas of the coast. It held a certain nostalgia that summer had always failed to do for you, and the promise of apple cider and pumpkin scented candles floated through with every passing day.

It had taken some convincing, but Joel had swayed in to your demands, and you both sat at a tiny table in a tiny cafe, the steaming pumpkin latte swirling between his hands.

"So?"

He stared at it for a moment before meeting your gaze. "It's.... not half bad."

"Well, well, well. Looks like I was right. I knew you'd like it." You smiled through your victory, drinking your own iced coffee.

"I haven't been here in years." Joel explained, looking around at the decorations. Local art, framed photographs, and signed albums adorned the exposed brick walls, the glowing salt lamps on each table bathing the air with warm, orange light.

"You've been here before?" This coffee shop was old, you knew that much, but even when you were younger and frequented its counter with your high school friends, you can't remember ever seeing him here. And this was a small town- you knew you would have remembered his face, despite the wrinkles and grays. He still would have been Joel.

"Over two decades ago. Sarah loved this place."

"Sarah?"

His upper lip twitched at the sound of her name. Joel looked at you with heavy eyes, glossed over with the mark of grief. The kind of grief that settles in to your body as though it's its home, the kind of grief that sits beside you on the couch and never leaves. The kind of grief you were learning to grow beside.

"My daughter."

The air hung above your heads like a rainy cloud, thick and desultory. It fell across your shoulders like a fur coat, and you struggled to shake it all away.

"I didn't know that you..." Words were useless. They always were when it came to matters like this.

Joel drank his coffee in silence, tracing the ridges of the wooden table out with his eyes. "Don't like talking about her."

"We don't have to."

"Yes, we do." His voice was stern as he looked up at you, your gaze connecting. Joel's eyes were far away, searching for something in the recesses of his memory, or perhaps gaining the courage to speak to you.

"I've been alone for over twenty years." His voice was softer than you had ever remembered it being. "And then.... you were there. Just there. Laid out on the shore like a beached mermaid, shivering in the moonlight. I didn't know you... but I knew you. You were me in that moment. I had been you."

Your lips were pressed into a tight, thin line, and you watched as he spoke. There was a subtle shake to Joel's hands as he picked at his thumb nail, a tick you had picked up on the first week you had known him. The bouncing of his knee vibrated through the table.

"I know what grief is. I know the stain it leaves on someone's face. It was all over you.. just-just dripping."

You hadn't noticed the tears welling in your eyes.

Joel reached over, his palm engulfing your cold hand like a blanket, warming your skin up with his touch. He laced your fingers tight in to his own, cradling your palms close between his two hands.

"I know what all this does to a person. How it rots, how.... how it erodes. I knew I needed to help you."

"What's why you took me back to your house."

"Yes. That's why I bandaged you up, that why I made you tea, that's why I let you keep coming back. Because I wanted to help you, because I lov-"

"Are we doing okay over here?" A barista walked up with a smile, a tray in hand. "I'm just going to take these empty cups away! It's such a beautiful day outside."

You managed to shoot her a smile.

As she walked away, Joel continued staring at you, and there was a sense of something..... else in his eyes.

"Lets go back home? To- well, uh, to my home."

You nodded silently, letting go of his hands as you both walked out the door.

There was something unspoken between Joel and you, and it had settled between the two of you over the months. You knew that he knew, and Joel knew that you knew, yet it was never brought up, it was never allowed to spoken out loud. If it was spoken out loud, then it became real, and if it became real, then it would end up being a burden. Or a promise. Or a nightmare. Or a dream. Or a beautiful, welcoming, loving thing that lasted until the day you died.

How terrifying was that?

You don't know when you had started holding Joel's hand, but the walk back to the lighthouse was quiet and chilly.

Because I lo-

His words echoed through your skull with every single step you took along the cobbled path.

Lo, lo, lo, lo. Love? Loathe? Long? Look?

Your chest compressed against itself as your thoughts wandered. You must have been squeezing Joel's hand too hard, or your nails must have been digging into his skin too deeply, because he stopped and looked at you.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly.

"I- um. Huh?"

"You're practically making me bleed with those nails of yours. Are you okay? Thinking about something?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." You muttered sheepishly, gently recoiling your hand away. Joel stopped you, placing it back in the grasp of his own. "I just... what were you going to say to me?"

"Hmm? Say to you?"

"Back at the coffee shop?"

"Oh." Joel shuffled his weight between both of his feet, his eyes shifting to meet yours. His warm, gentle, dark eyes. Those honeyed orbs of warmth that you had grown to love so deeply. Love? Oh, yes. You were certain it was love.

What part of Joel Miller didn't you love? He had rescued you from much more than that shore on that fateful night. Fate. Hell of a thing, that.

Joel squeezed his eyes shut. It was like ripping off a band-aid. When he spoke, he opened them once more, allowing his words to drip off his tongue. They were soft, gentle, they swayed through the tresses of your hair like a breeze through a field of flowers.

"I love you."

And there it was.

Time must have stopped. Your ears rang with silence, the weight of the universe funneling and funneling, closer and closer to your head until there was nothing. No noise. No air. No nothing.

Joel stared at you with a blank expression on his face, as though he couldn't believe what he had just said.

"I shouldn't have... that was- I'm sorry."

You took a step towards him, his hand was still wrapped around your own. You felt the subtle sheen of sweat on his palm, you tasted the tang of metal on your tongue from biting your cheek too hard, too deep, too long.

You knew it as sure as the sun rose in the east, you knew it with every vein in your body, with every hair on your head. You loved him, too.

Oh you did, didn't you? What a fool you were for him. If he told you to jump, you would jump. If he told you to run away with him, you would ask where. Joel Miller had bewitched you, every ounce of you, and you couldn't bare the thought of leaving him, or forgetting him, or even worse- never meeting him.

Some brave rush of courage overtook you, and before you could think you had grabbed his face in your hands and pressed your mouth into his own, nearly knocking him off his feet with the force of your movement. Joel's hands instinctively grabbed your waist, and his back found the support of a stop sign. The tips of his fingers gently dug into your waist, and he held you close and tight to his chest. You could feel the beating of his heart against his torso, pumping and pumping and pumping its vibrations into your own chest, ricocheting through your body as you tasted him on your tongue.

You pulled away only when your cheeks ached, burying your face in to his chest, allowing the smell of Joel to overcome you. He always smelled like the sea air and cotton, sweet and nostalgic against your nose.

"Lets get home." He whispered in your ear.

Home. He hadn't corrected himself. Home.

Joel's fingers refused to leave yours, locked tight as you made it to his house. Moby greeted you with a kiss to the knee, waddling back to his bed with a heavy huff of air. You gave him the bone you always picked up for him on the way there, before turning around to see Joel in the kitchen, a cigarette in his mouth.

"Want one?" He asked as he brought the lighter to his mouth. You walked towards him, nodding. He took the item out of his mouth, before placing it between your own two lips.

Joel watched the way you took the cigarette, the way your glossy lips looked against the white sheen of paper.

"You're so damn beautiful. God, I just..." Joel shook his head as he kept his thoughts to himself, lighting another smoke before tossing the half empty pack on to the table.

"You just what?" Your voice echoed through the bellow of smoke, and you leaned against the counter, challenging him with your words.

"I just... got so many things I want to do to you."

You smiled, alluring eyes beaming up at him as you puffed and exhaled, slowly putting out the embers on the clay ashtray you had bought him months ago. "Like what?" Your words were teasing.

Joel watched you step towards him, and his chest rose and fell underneath the unlit kitchen light. He took in a deep breath of tobacco before flicking it in to the metal sink.

He'd deal with that later.

"How 'bout I just show you, baby?"

Your lip caught between your teeth as you nodded.

Joel had never moved so fast in his life, whisking you off to his room with a loud bang of his door. He had you nearly naked and on his bed in record time, his knee resting between your legs as he kissed you, the hair of his moustache tickling your nose.

He allowed you to grind yourself down on his leg, soft moans flooding in to his mouth as his tongue explored your own, tangling and dancing with one another as his fingers worked the back of your bra. Joel threw the material across the room, your breasts pressing in to his chest, nipples hard and tantalizing.

That was the first time Joel had pulled away. He left a trail of wet kisses down to your nipples, his lips wrapping around the stiff bud. You watched him suckle at your flesh, shivers causing the hair on your arms to stand up. His curls became tangled with your fingers, a leg resting on his shoulder as he adjusted himself, sucking and licking at your tits as though he were starved.

Your sweet melody of arousal was like music to Joel, who finally gathered the strength to pull away from your chest and move down between your legs, his mouth planting a flurry of pecks to your stomach. He hooked your panties in his fingers and tugged them off, large hands resting on your thigh as he spread them.

Joel stared at your pussy, now open and bare for his eyes. It glistened with arousal, the soft pink of your flesh causing his mouth to water.

"Jesus." He breathed out slowly, eyes darting up to your gaze. "You were made just for me, weren't you?"

You felt your cheeks heat up. You were. Oh, God, you were!

His free hand snaked up to yours, and you held it tightly, nervously. His hand was your anchor, tethering you to the ocean floor of his bedroom.

Joel leaned forward, his tongue pressing flat against your clit. You whimpered out once. He sucked it in between his lips. You whimpered out twice. He worked your aching bud until you were singing a song composed just for him, pants of hot, heavy air swirling through the four walls of his room.

He was devouring you. You were his Eucharist and your pussy was his prayer. Joel worked you in ways you had never been worked before, licking and sucking your pussy with the fervor that could only ever be found in a religion. You were his religion. His idol. His worship. His solace.

Oh, solace. What a sweet, sweet thing when it was found in you.

Joel's chin was quickly soaked in your sweet wetness. He would have drowned in you if you had let him.

His tongue pushed deep in to your folds, exploring your most precious pf places, tasting every inch of you like a starved man, like a frenzied man, like a mad man.

You were his. He was yours.

Your hips were bucking, your body like a wild animal caught in a trap. Except you weren't in a trap. You were in his arms. His strong, thick, heavy arms, and ecstasy was overtaking you. His tongue was coaxing you towards an explosive orgasm, the likes of which had never been known to you. Not one so intense. Not one at the hands of a man who loved you.

Joel's grip tightened around your own, his lips sucking at your clit, tongue tapping and swirling, licking and lapping.

You could barely get any warning out before your orgasm rushed through you, thighs shaking with earthquakes of pleasure. Your fingers tugged at his hair, holding his head tight in place. Joel licked you through the height of your euphoria, sucking softly at your bud before you could barely take it anymore, before you had to gently push his head away.

"Joel." You whispered, staring at the ceiling as the white hot heat of your climax rushed over you. "Joel." You spoke it like a mantra. His name was a promise to you.

"Baby?" He climbed over you, weight supported by his elbows, and allowed the tip of his nose to gently brush over yours.

"Take me." You whispered, the palms of your hand moving to his cheeks. They were warm, and you could smell your pussy on his facial hair. You leaned forwards, kissing him, tasting your cum and his spit. A moan tumbled out of your mouth, straight through your teeth.

"Make me yours. Fuck me." You begged, although Joel didn't need any begging.

"Anything for you."

His boxers were off in the blink of an eye, and you glanced down at his cock. Tanned, slightly curved, hanging low and heavy, the mushroom tip gleaming with pre-cum. Your mouth was watering at the site, but his grasp on your chin moved your line of sight to his face.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and a soft gasp escaped you at the feeling of the tip of his cock pressing against your folds. He grinded against you, his shaft rubbing up and down the folds of your pussy, jolts of electricity causing you to shiver each time he brushed your clit.

Joel was teasing you. He was making you in to a mess. A mess all for him.

His eyes never left yours. Joel watched you lovingly, noses pressed tight, lips brushing past the others. You were as close as two people could possibly be, and you were unsure where his skin ended and yours began. Stray curls of his hair tickled your forehead, and your chests rose and fell in unison.

"I love you." His breath was hot against your face.

"I love you too-" He pushed his length in as you spoke, stretching out the lips of your pussy, hitting deeper than anything had before. You moaned out a wanton noise you had never heard before, nails gently digging in to his shoulders.

Joel sat there for a moment, heavy eyelids half closed. He was soaking you in, literally, allowing himself to relish in the feeling of being inside of you. Of being one with you.

He had not afforded himself many of life's pleasures. Not after Sarah had died. Not after he had let himself go. He had paced the same shore as you many moons ago, gun in hand, trying to urge himself to just put the barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger. It sounded so easy.

But something had stopped him. Something hadn't let him.

He had wondered, many years after that, why he hadn't done it. He had wondered what could possibly be worth living.

And then he saw you.

In that very same spot, rotting beneath the silver light of the moon.

It was you. Everything had been for you, hadn't it?

And now there you were, beneath him, as pretty as a picture, the embodiment of everything he had ever yearned for, everything he had ever dreamed for. You were everything to Joel, and he was everything to you.

And now there he was, deep inside of you. You were all he could feel, all he could smell, all he could see. You, you, you. The most beautiful thing he had ever saw, the most wonderful thing he could have ever waited for.

The shiver of your body brought him back down to reality. He kissed you deeply, and all you could do was smile against his mouth.

Lucky. That is what you were. That is what you both were.

"You feel so good." You whispered softly, hands gently running down the back of his head, finding a resting spot on the broad stretch of his freckled back.

Joel rubbed his cheek against yours, slowly moving his hips, grinding down against you, eliciting a sweet moan out of you. "Yeah?"

You both giggled in unison, and he watched your eyes shut as he began to pump deep inside of you. The feeling of your nails pinched at his skin.

Joel glanced down, watching his cock disappear into the depths of your cunt, sloppy noises of your arousal filling the air. Your pussy lips looked so pretty wrapped around his length, your wetness looked so pretty glistening off his cock.

You were made for him, and he for you.

"Take me, Joel." You begged, and his movement increased, growing slightly rougher as his forehead met yours, lips pressing together once more.

"God, you're so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. So fucking pretty. You feel so fucking good. This pussy.... fuck. Fuck, I never want to leave it." He was rambling through his thrusts, hand reaching down to rub at your swelling clit.

"Fuck me, Joel. Fuck me." You whined out, bucking up against the touch of his fingers as he fucked you harder in to the mattress.

"You're my girl. You're my beautiful fucking girl. God, you're everything to me. You're my world." His breath was hot against your face as he kissed you, coaxing you towards another orgasm with each rub of his middle finger across your clit.

"That's a good girl. I can feel you getting closer. I can feel that pussy tightening against me."

Your back arched off the mattress as you cried out his name, moaning as his praises filled your ears. Joel rested his face in the crook of your neck, hips slapping in to your thighs as he filled you up with every inch of his length.

"That's my girl, that's it, baby. Cum for me."

You did as he said. There was no use in holding back. As your orgasm rushed through, his own was approaching. Your name tumbled off his lips, the only word he could remember, as he came deep inside your walls. His hot cum filled you to the brim with a warmth you had never experienced, and Joel kept slowly pumping as his high rushed off, as his orgasm died down.

You shivered beneath him, another kiss being planted on your mouth. Then you cheeks. Then your nose. Then anywhere else Joel could get to.

A moan tumbled off Joel's tongue as he slowly slipped out of you, falling beside you before grabbing you and pressing you in to his chest.

"Stay with me."

"I always do." You whispered in to his chest.

"No, stay with me. Permanently. This can be our home."

"Our home." You whispered quietly, nuzzling closer into his body.

"Our home." He established firmly, resting his palm on the crown of your head.

The world would always spin, and sorrow would always lurk. That was how the world worked. That was the way of the universe. When you both awoke in the morning, the pain of yesteryears would still be there. The horrible, nasty tug of old memories and distant lives would always be somewhere deep within you.

The cosmos, however, were full of possibilities. You could have stayed in your parents home and succumb to a darkness greater than yourself. Joel could have drank himself to death or tasted the metal of a bullet. Those waves could have taken you, and he could have never decided to take a walk down to that beach.

There were many what if's.

But right now you were alive with passion, eyes wide and awake with a newfound love. The bitterness had gone, and something much brighter and better was waiting for you in the future.

Beside you, Joel Miller sat puffing on a cigarette, smiling at you through dreamy eyes. The sheen of sweat was still glistening across his chest, and the gentle smirk on his lips reflected the tales of a lovesick fool.

"Ready to go again?" He asked cheekily, handing you the smoke.

You took it with a smile.

For now, grief would have to wait.

939 notes · View notes

boba-beom · 5 months

Text

are we just finding out that soobin’s got mirrors on his bedroom ceiling or is it just me 🫠😵‍💫 bc are you thinking what I’m thinking 🫠

soobin hard thoughts

soobin eating you out OR soobin getting head and recording the ceiling pov

soobin invites your over to hang out because he knows just how fascinated you get over his mirrored ceiling. you both sit on his bed, and you go from talking, to being a little touchy with one another, and eventually start making out.

he ends up lightly pushing you so you’re laying down, head against the pillows and his body resting between your legs. you look up at the ceiling and you watch the way he descends down your body. his face buried in your neck to kiss you at every single sweet spot he knows, lifting your top to trail kisses between the mounds of your boobs.

your eyes never leave your reflections on the ceiling. he takes his time suckling on your nipples, kissing around your tits until he decides to trail even lower down your abdomen. he discards your lower garments, leaving you bare in front of him and your reflections.

“wanna feel good sweetheart?” is all he says before you let out an airy ‘yes’.

in your reflection your eyes focus on the back of his head, the way he settles between your thighs, kissing and licking small areas here and there before planting wet kisses along your slit up to your clit. once he starts eating you out with so much dedication and attention to your body reacting to his movements, he puts your legs over his shoulders. the view of your legs splayed on his back with the back of your heel digging between his shoulder blades.

“keep your eyes on the ceiling. I want you to watch yourself while I make you cum.”

soobin lures you further onto the bed by making out with you, both your hands wandering until he grabs ahold of yours and places it on top of his bulge. you start palming him through his thin pyjama bottoms, knowing he isn’t wearing underwear underneath as your fingers feel a couple of veins on his shaft.

“want my cock in your mouth, sweetheart?” and you nod, wanting nothing more than that right now.

his eyes literally light up when you situate yourself between his legs, laying on your stomach and pulling his flimsy pj bottoms down.

you waste no time and start sucking on the head of his dick, eliciting soft moans out of him all while he takes his phone out and records both your reflections. the movement of your head bopping up and down his shaft through his camera has him twitching in your mouth.

you keep taking him further and deeper until he’s essentially throat fucking you, yet he doesn’t hold back his whine and moans. just know when you both rewatch the video all you can hear are his soft ‘hah- oh yes, yes baby. mmm yes like that. fuck, i wanna cum in your mouth, be good and swallow, yeah?’

and he does, his abdomen twitching as he spurts his last few droplets in your mouth and pans the camera to you showing him his load pooling on your tongue before swallowing it with an innocent smile at the end.

#soobin hard hours #soobin smut #soobin hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #smiles hard hours #mdni #I’m sorry but I’m not #he’s so hot

2K notes · View notes

h0rnyauth0r · 1 year

Text

ghost wants to help teach you how to snipe! (but it turns into… something else)

i know i haven't posted in forever but i'm doing so much better so we'll see what happens <3

ALSO 1K??????? THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH AHHH

word count: 2.2k

tws: choking, unprotected sex, reader with vagina, pussy eating, cum eating, fingering, rough sex, cumming inside

you hate how cold it is on the rooftops, slow gusts of winds chilling your bones completely. you would normally complain, but with ghost being right next to you, you truly can’t. his large body blocks the majority of what should be hitting you, and you can’t help but feel giddy getting to spend time with him alone.

he gives off heat, thick layers of clothing doing nothing to stop the way his gloved fingers and muscular arms touch into you as you try adjusting the rifle appropriately. his eyes are looking you over to make sure your positioning is right; it’s not.

“you need to move some.” his voice is barely above a whisper, sending shivers down your spine as you turn your head slightly and only then realize just how close you are to him.

you gulp and nod your head, heat bubbling up in your tummy as you try to adjust yourself and the rifle once more. you can feel his eyes on your every part, silently judging how you just seemingly can’t do this right.

the darkness of the night is all that surrounds you, rifle aiming at some lit up targets prepared on base for you to use. you opt to fire with the newly adjusted position, but it’s no use.

the bullet whizzes into the very edge of the target, just scraping it. ghost sighs frustratedly, deciding to move closer to you so he can help (force) you into the right aiming position. you don’t expect his arms to wrap around you the way they do, causing you to jump a little as you’re moved around with ease.

once he stops, he’s speaking up. “try now.”

you nod, aiming down the sight and pulling the trigger. excitement courses through your veins when you notice the bullet hit the center of the target, a smile forming on your face.

“nice! did you see that?” you say, turning your head to him and immediately becoming hyper-aware of his face only inches away from your own. he nods, eyes staring down at you in a way that makes you feel a lot less cold than before.

it’s the sultry look that he always has that makes you break eye contact quickly, clearing your throat as you turn away from him and decide to take another shot.

following his prior movements of your body, you try once more to shoot and that’s when your confidence skyrockets. once again, a direct hit.

“yes!” you say happily, grinning and glancing over to the man. he nods at your work, opting to put a hand up for a high-five as opposed to using his words for the moment.

your eyebrows raise at such a random gesture, slapping his gloved hand gently and then move the gun over to the side of you. “did you want to practice at all?” you ask, swallowing harshly once you’re looking into his eyes again.

his eye contact remains so sharp in a way that sends spikes of heat in between your thighs, head shaking as he looks between your faltering smile and your bright eyes.

“i think we both know i don’t need it.”

you nod knowingly, almost feeling embarrassed. obviously he wouldn’t want to practice, he’s the best sniper on the base. you feel stupid for even asking, eyes wandering to the edge of the rooftop and looking around at the night sky.

the lights directly above the two of you make the view less visible, but it’s still beautiful nonetheless. you can’t help but wish you were able to stay out with ghost, that maybe this would be a date instead of him doing his job.

you decide to move around some to prepare to get up. “well, i suppose i should get going. i don’t want to take up anymore of your time.” you mumble.

as you move to get up, his hand stops you with a strength that has you wondering just what other parts of you he could move around so easily. you gasp out, looking to your side at him.

“stay.”

his eyes look pleading, emotions held in them that have you nearly melting into his touch. you immediately falter, getting back into the same prone position you were in before.

you don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. it’s like that for a while, silence between the two of you and the weight of unspoken words creating tension. you choose to take a glance at him, almost forgetting to breathe when you see the way he’s staring at you.

“it’s nice out tonight.” you’re embarrassed saying this, knowing it’s completely random to even mention how the weather is given the current circumstances.

he nods along though, which comforts you in some way. “better than normal.”

you sigh, shutting your eyes tightly. “why did you want me to stay out here?” you don’t want to pry, but it’s needed now. with the tension in the air and the crickets chirping away, your mind is left wandering.

one of his hands gently touch you, eyes pulling open from the pressure of his hand guiding you toward him. your body leans against him, his other hand snaking around your waist. you wait patiently for his words, but nothing is said.

instead, he’s adjusting your bodies so that you’re on top of his body, thighs on either side of his hips as you look down at him. the movement happened so quickly that you can’t think properly for a moment, just staring at him blankly.

your insides feel like they’re on fire from pure lust, face growing hotter from the feeling of a bulge pressing against your clothed pussy. you want to kiss him so badly right now, eyes desperately looking between his eyes and where his lips would be underneath his mask.

“please…” you whisper breathlessly, eyes fixated on that one spot. you unconsciously grind your hips against him, feeling his hands shoot to your hips where they dig in and he pushes up into you.

“fuck it.” he mumbles, hand flying up and pushing the mask up just enough so his lips are showing. you immediately lean down and press into his lips roughly, kissing him with every bit of passion you can muster.

your lips move against each other heatedly, one of his hands grabbing onto your neck to push you in more. you let out a whine when he starts grinding up into you more, the pressure absolutely soaking your panties and probably your pants, too.

the stimulation is just enough to have you gasping his name into his lips desperately, teeth clashing and wet sounds echoing in empty outside air. the hand on your hip is rubbing circles into it, making your body twitch as you push your hips down harder and harder.

he abruptly ends the kiss between the two of you, hands hurriedly pulling your jacket off before he hesitates to take off any more of your clothing. “will you get too cold?” he asks.

you nod, “it’d be best to leave my shirt on.” you mumble, trying your hardest to catch your breath. but he kisses you again, this time fumbling with your belt and then the button of your pants.

you stand up and quickly pull them off with your underwear in a rush, settling back down on him with your bare pussy resting against him. he reaches down and lightly presses his thumb against your clit, making you whimper out.

you kiss him again while he plays with your clit, eventually sliding down your slit and playing with your hole. his finger stretches you out and your teeth accidentally bite down on his lip as you gasp.

a second one pushes in as your lips leave his again, eyes looking down to where his fingers are thrusting into you and biting your bottom lip. your hips grind down and push him in deeper, eyes rolling back as you come closer and closer to your orgasm.

he slides his fingers back out though, looking you in the eyes as he slips them into his mouth and sucks gently. the sight has you moaning pathetically, a hand reaching down to palm his dick in his pants.

he grunts and pushes your hand away, quickly undoing his pants and pulling them down enough to free his cock. “are you sure you want this?” he asks.

you nod, hand reaching out and jerking his cock several times before lining it up and pushing just the tip in. you slowly sink down onto it, eyes clamping shut from the size and just how good he feels inside of you.

“fuck…” he groans softly when you clench around him, and you almost cum just from how sexy he looks. eyes glazed over, lips still revealed and puffy, and fists clenched roughly at his sides.

you start to move against him, grinding up and down on his cock as you reach out and grab onto his hands. he uses this to his advantage, pulling your body forward just a little as his hips start thrusting up into you quickly.

your mouth falls open, a mix between a gasp and a whine coming out of your mouth. “more…” you cry out, eyes widening when he pulls out of you. his body is moving yours around, your ass in the air as he adjusts himself to be behind you.

he slowly pushes himself into you from behind, fingernails digging into your ass as he bottoms out. the angle is much better than before, his hips slapping into your ass as he begins thrusting feverishly.

“so tight and pretty. and all mine.” he growls out, hand reaching around and gripping onto your throat as he fucks into you harder.

you can barely keep your eyes open, but you do when he leans your head back to look at your face while he thrusts. you can feel the pressure building up in you, a steady orgasm bubbling up from the pressure of his dick hitting every little spot that you know gets you going.

he squeezes your throat and you wheeze out, eyes rolling back and clit throbbing hard from the sensation. you can’t help but cry out loudly, even more so when his other hand moves from your ass to your clit to rub circles into it.

your whole body shakes as his movements quicken, his fingers pushing down on your little button as your orgasm hits you hard. you feel your thighs shake and you’re sputtering out incoherent words, a mix between his name and different curse words.

“that’s a good girl. so good for me.” he whispers in your ear, tears streaming down your face from the overstimulation and a content noise coming out from his praise.

he doesn’t stop after you come down from your high, hips never faltering but fingers leaving your clit after you try to squirm away from them. his hand remains tight around your throat, occasionally squeezing.

it’s not long after when you notice his hips sputtering and becoming more and more sloppy in movements, and eventually you can feel his cum fill you deeply. it’s leaking down your thighs, mixed with your own release and sweat as he finally pulls out.

you sigh out, exhausted but entirely satisfied. “that was amazing.”

he pushes your back into the ground, “i’m not finished with you yet.” his words are stern, and you let out a squeak when you feel his breath against your thighs.

he licks up your pussy, lips finding your clit and beginning to suck hard. you cry out, a hand slapping over your mouth to calm yourself as his tongue begins completely violating you.

his tongue runs along your clit in circles before moving back to your stretched entrance, sliding in and out of your hole before moving to your clit once more.

your orgasm approaches quicker since you’ve already cum once, a loud moan escaping your lips as you release against his tongue. he coaxes you through your orgasm, humming softly once he pulls back.

“you taste as good as you look.” he says shamelessly, and you don’t respond. your whole body is shaking beyond belief and you don’t think you can move anymore without falling over.

“i can’t move.” you say quietly, and he’s looking at you smugly as he pulls his mask back over the bottom half of his face.

he decides to help you put your clothes back on, hands gently taking care of everything and wiping your wet thighs down with a towel. “i can carry you.” he says, shrugging.

you shake your head quickly, “no! we’re not going to do that. it’d be so obvious we just fucked out here.” you disagree, arms crossing as you sit down criss cross on the floor.

he leans down to your ear, “you think they don’t already know, love? you were screaming my name. everyone here knows.” his voice is low and makes you shiver, your face going hot as you realize just how right he is.

needless to say, ghost carries to your room with knowing eyes glaring at the two of you the whole way there. but you really can’t care, knowing that this won’t be the last time it happens anyways.

taglist: @wwwurmomdotcom @kovieky @chibijusstuff

(send an ask/dm to be added or removed from my taglist!)

#ghost #ghost x reader smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod #call of duty #call of duty smut #x reader #female reader #smut

6K notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 3 months

Text

What Are We (3 of 4)

John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): light angst, soft!Price, heavy suggestive themes, canon-typical swearing

Word Count: 978

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Not interested in playing games, Price makes it clear what he wants.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // what are we masterlist

“Are we doing this or no, love?”

You glance up from your morning tea, surprised. “What?”

John crosses his arm and leans against the edge of the counter. He’s only wearing sweatpants, and his bare chest is distracting. He might be older, but John is just as strong as the younger men that work under him. Those large arms of his are all corded muscle and protruding vein. His chest and stomach have a thickness to them that speaks to more than simply going to the gym.

“Us,” he replies. “What are we? What are we doing?” He sounds slightly huffy. Not angry, just impatient. In need of an answer.

You swallow down the burning liquid and nearly grimace from the heat. “I—what do you mean?”

One eyebrow rises, almost in chastisement. Which is fair since you know what John is pushing back about even as you feign innocence. Right now, you don’t want to face the reality. What you and John have is so peaceful that pushing it forward—or back—might disrupt the quiet, shattering it all like smashed glass.

John sighs, and reaches out, placing his large palm over the mouth of your tea mug. His fingers grip it, and you know to let it go, to release your hold. John sets the mug down on the counter next to him.

Spreading his legs, John uncrosses his arms, holding them out in front of him. “Come here,” he murmurs, and the tone is so soft and inviting that you immediately comply, entering his arms like melted butter over toast.

Fuck, he’s warm. A furnace.

You wrap your arms around his middle, and John does the same, tucking you against his body. “We live together,” he says.

“Yes.”

“We sleep in the same bed.”

You nod. “That we do.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with amusement. “I’ve met your bloody parents.”

“What’s your point?” you ask, haughty and stubborn.

Price’s hand drops lower. Squeezes. The power behind it forces you further against him, and you feel everything, especially the hardness that hasn’t appeared to abate since the morning’s quickie.

“My point, is that we need to call this what is it.”

Shit. This is it. You’re going to have to face the reality of this and look it in the face. You and Price are not simply friends. You are not even friends with benefits or a uncomplicated fling. This is real. Truly and utterly real and yet you keep denying what sits in front of you.

You and John are a couple. That is what this is.

He has met your parents. He has met your friends. You know his coworkers—at least the ones he trusts enough to share your existence with. The two of you talk about the future together, never pivoting away from the possibility of separation.

Everything happens together. Everything.

So why keep denying it?

“I’m not looking to play games, love.” John reaches up and slides his hand to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your throat. “With my career, I need stability when I come home.” He hugs you closer. “I want you as my wife. Little versions of us running around.”

He closes the distance, lightly pressing his lips to yours. With the hold on your throat, John is a bit possessive with it, a little rough in the way he holds you. It’s such a contrast to how his lips caress your skin, tasting softly.

John releases your lips, pulling back just enough to stare into your eyes. “If you don’t want these things, you tell me now.” The husky drop in his voice sends a shiver straight to your core, makes you slick between the thighs.

Returning to your lips, John’s pressure increases, becomes slightly desperate. Slightly choking with his need to get his point across. You need to make a decision. You need to tell John what you want.

Because, you do want him. You crave him every second of every day. But this is a massive step, and John’s life is an unpredictable assortment of missing time and extended absences. The stability John desires is something you are more than willing to give, but you also don’t want to carry that burden all on your own.

“What happens when you’re not here, John?” you ask, once he’s ceased kissing you. “And even when you are, am I to take up the mental load?”

There are times when you will need to give more, or John might have to, but you don’t want to be left to do it all yourself. John’s job is difficult. It can be traumatizing and stressful, but you need to know if he’ll be present when he returns.

You don’t need to elaborate. You don’t need to explain. John already knows. He understands.

“Coming home to you in between is the happiest I’ve ever been. I just want you here. Everything else is negotiable.”

You smile against his mouth. “I thought you said you wanted little versions of us running around?”

John shrugs. “I do. If you don’t, that’s fine.” Both hands fall away from your body to firmly squeeze your ass. “But I will fuck you like we’re trying.”

“John!” you rear back and playfully smack his chest.

He nuzzles your neck and inhales, drawing you right back into him. “We can go try right now.” John lightly presses his pelvis against you and you smile as his desire creates a pressure between your bodies.

“We don’t have anything planned today,” you murmur.

John squeezes harder. “Exactly, love. We have the whole day.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glassgulls @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project

984 notes · View notes

katiexpunk · 12 days

Text

Scarlet Haze - Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader | W/C: ~6.2K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Series Summary: Life in the QZ was fairly predictable. That was, until Joel Miller showed up on your doorstep covered in blood. Since then, you've helped him more times than you can count. Now it's his turn to return the favor.

Series Warnings: SEX POLLEN. SEX POLLEN. SEX POLLEN. Set in the TLOU universe in the Boston QZ. Buckle the fuck up for a lot of filthy, feral smut. Check chapter warnings for specifics. This series will follow them through current day.

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Blood. Sexual tension. Bloody knuckles/wounded Joel. Flirting. Alcohol. Male masturbation. Voyeurism. Pearl Jam. Drug-seeking behavior. Medical references. Crying. Hallucinations similar to a drug high. Euphoria. Damsel in distress trope. Pet names. Praise kink. Begging. Unprotected P in V. Oral (female receiving). Fingering. Use of daddy. Age gap (make it your own!). No use of Y/N. Reader has no physical descriptions. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Surprise! It's here early (probably the only time you'll be glad something came early). Part 2 as part of my contribution to @morallyinept's Flora and Fauna Challenge. Part 3 coming 5/19.

Part 1 | Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

“And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.” ― Stephen Chbosky

Joel Miller is a bad man.

It wasn’t always this way – there was a time when he thought he was good, kind even, a gentleman through and through, just like his momma raised him to be.

But those days are long gone. Nowadays, the things he does are far from decent.

What he’s doing right now tops the list.

He should avoid it. He knows he should.

Whatever this feeling is, it’s entirely alien to him—like a cocktail of a thousand potent drugs coursing through his veins, igniting an instinctive physical response. His heart pounds furiously, and a searing heat prickles his skin. He feels lightheaded, probably from the blood rushing anywhere and everywhere except for his brain.

He tries to reason with himself that he can wait— he should wait. Wait for you to wake up, do your typical doctor business, pull out a magic pill or some bullshit, and you’ll both be well on your way.

He should wait. A good man would wait.

But then you started whimpering.

Fucking whimpering.

It was soft, just a whisper; he almost second-guessed it, but then you said his name clear as day, drawing him closer to the edge of control.

“Joel, please,” you moan, spread out on the dusty sheets, lost in a daydream he wishes he was part of, totally unaware of your actions.

He palms himself through his denim, hips titled forward as he sits on a wood chair that he’s not all too convinced can bear his weight after years of abandonment, but he could give two shits about that right now.

“Yes, oh god, yes, just like that,” you moan again, your hand inching closer to your center, chasing friction of any kind. He wonders if you’re wet right now, how sweet you must taste.

Fuck it.

If he's destined for hell, he might as well make it worth the trip.

He unhooks his belt and yanks down his zipper, forcefully pulling his pants down to bunch around the muscular expanse of his thighs

Heavy cock in hand, he takes a second to admire it. It’s a fat, healthy one with a little curve to the left and a prominent vein running up the side. He’s a blessed man – in this regard, anyway.

He rises to full attention, and his hand rises with it, thick, strong fingers just about meeting his thumb as they curl around him. He savors the first proper stroke, the shift from teasing to relief.

He’s so fucking hard. He’s not sure he’s ever been this hard.

His skin feels like velvet wrapped around steel. Even at the end of the world, hell, even before it, he’s not sure touching himself has ever felt like this.

As the edges of his vision begin to soften and blur, he focuses on you. He empties his mind into thoughts of you and only you – how good you’d feel, your tight cunt wrapped around him, creaming on him as you chant his name like a prayer.

Fuck.

His head falls back to lean against the wall, eyes tightly shut, his hand still working as he conjures up images of you bent over for him as he watches his cock slide in and out of your wet heat.

It feels like his whole system has been turned on, his body flooded with adrenaline, the frantic thud of his pulse in his ears now palpable against his palm, too.

Just then, you blink open your eyes, and the remnants of your daydream evaporate like a mist in the morning sun. For a moment, you’re unsure where you are, the room spinning gently in your haze.

The last thing you remember is being in the flower field with him, and now you’re on a bed that hasn’t seen a warm body in over a decade. How did he?

You drop the thought when you feel the air, thick with a heavy, sweet scent that tugs at the edges of your consciousness. You feel hot, every nerve ending tingling uncomfortably. Breathing feels difficult, each breath deep and labored. It’s as if your lungs are struggling under a heavy weight, a need you can’t quite pinpoint.

Your gaze slowly shifts from the ceiling to the corner of the room, and that's when you spot him.

Sunlight streams through the grime-streaked windows, casting beams that light up the swirling dust in the air. As your eyes adjust, the details come into sharp focus, cutting through the haze in your mind like a knife.

Oh. He’s —

You must still be dreaming; you must. There’s no way this is happening.

Your stomach flutters and flips, enough physical proof that you see what you think you do.

You take a moment to admire him, his cock, the glistening precum that’s gathered at the tip of it, the soft groans coming from his chest. The way his thick neck is angeled back perfectly presents his Adam's apple and the nape of his throat.

You adjust to prop yourself up slightly.

"Joel," you coo, his name dripping from your lips like nectar from a flower.

He pauses at the sound of your voice, and time suspends for a moment. If he weren’t so fucked out, he might think to stop what he’s doing, might even feel embarrassed that he was caught.

But right now, part of him wants you to watch. When he tilts his head up, you’re staring at him with a look he can’t quite place, but holy fuck, you’re beautiful.

Seeing your own lust-filled eyes, knowing you're watching what he’s doing to himself, consumes him.

“See what you do to me,” he groans, holding your stare as he fucks his fist, jaw slack and balls tight.

It’s so intense. He’s intense.

“Wanna see you,” he rasps, and you’re more than happy to oblige.

You work to undo the buttons of your jeans, desperate to touch yourself – dazed and dizzy.

You haven’t even touched him and you’re already cock drunk, tipsy with the need to touch him. You can’t stop it, not even if you tried. It feels like this moment was always meant to happen, and everything in life—the good and the bad — has led up to it.

Feeling a sudden surge of boldness, you stand to walk over to him, but the floor rushes up unexpectedly. As gravity claims you, a different kind of pull—a magnetic force you've felt since the night you met him—lingers in your mind.

You think you hear him call your name as the ceiling swirls into shades of red, patterns like a kaleidoscope painted behind your lids, and you’re living that night again before you can be sure.

++++

Boston QZ, Fall 2022

The bar's dim lights hardly penetrate the thick air and despair that seems to stick to everything inside the QZ. You shove open the heavy metal door and step inside. The noise—a mix of wood chairs scraping against the ground and low conversations—briefly spikes before settling as the door thuds shut behind you.

It's been a long, tough shift at the clinic, leaving you feeling bone tired.

The bar—if you can even call it that—has a worn appeal. As your eyes get used to the dimness, you head straight for the counter.

The bartender, a middle-aged guy with a scar trailing down his cheek like a tear track, gives you a quick nod in greeting. “Hey, Tom,” you greet him with a tired smile. “I’ll have a chardonnay.”

Tom chuckles, wiping down a glass with a rag that has seen better days.

“Doc,” he nods. “Best I can do is beer. Got a fresh batch that’s more hops than rust this time.”

“Sold,” you laugh, settling onto a stool and pushing him one of your ration cards. “Make it a cold one, if you can remember what cold feels like.”

Your eyes drift across the bar as Tom turns to fetch your drink. That’s when you notice him—a rugged man nursing a beer, his presence almost as worn as the leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders.

His knuckles are raw, the skin split, and a dark bruise blooms around his left eye. It’s an impressive shiner that catches your attention more than it probably should.

You lean slightly on the bar, the wood cool under your arms, and a half-smile forms on your lips when you catch his eye. “You really should have someone check that out,” you say, nodding toward his hand, the flirtation in your voice unmistakable.

His eyes assess you momentarily, weighing your words, maybe even your presence here talking to him.

He curls his right hand into a fist, the skin tight and pale over the knuckles. “This?” His voice, rough as gravel, carries a hint of nonchalance. “It’ll heal eventually.” As he speaks, his words stretch out with a slow Southern drawl, wrapped in a weariness you can almost touch.

“Must have been quite the fight,” you remark, accepting the beer Tom slides in front of you. “Or a really stubborn door.”

A trace of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Something like that.”

“You know,” you continue, sipping the beer and finding it surprisingly not terrible, “I’m pretty good with stitches and less good with doors. If you ever need a hand…”

His dark eyes flick back to you, pausing on your lips, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You sip your drink, the corners of your lips twitching upward slightly. Turning to face him fully, you let your eyes roam over his features, openly appreciating the chisel of his jaw and the facial hair that covers it. He’s handsome.

He doesn’t ask for your name, but the silence feels like an invitation. Leaning a bit closer, you raise an eyebrow playfully. "And you are?" your voice lilts at the end, lingering on the anticipation.

"Joel Miller," he says, his voice a deep rumble that cuts through the bar noise. His handshake is firm but careful as if he's mindful not to hurt despite the roughness of his hands.

"Joel Miller—I like that," you reply, holding his gaze a little longer than necessary, your hand still clasped in his. You gently turn his hand to inspect the battered knuckles, not having to work hard to imagine the sting you know he feels.

A shout from across the bar catches your attention; your friends are waving you over. You turn towards them, but he continues to look at you. When you turn back to him, he drops your hand quickly, almost like you burned him.

"Well, Joel Miller, I guess I'll see you around," you say with a hint of promise.

He nods, “Maybe so.”

As you walk away, you feel his thoughtful, dark, and hungry eyes still fixed on you.

The intensity of his stare sends a shiver down your spine as you move toward the laughter and warmth of your friends waiting at a table near the back.

You feel the pull of curiosity that makes you want to look back, but you don’t.

++++

Later that week, you’re pulling a late night at the clinic.

"Fuck," you moan, bringing your hands to your temples and rubbing them slightly. You're exhausted. When are you not?

You don't have a clock in the clinic, but you know it's probably close to curfew. Every cell in your body tells you to go home, but you ignore it. At least you have the peeling paint and the constant drip from a leaky faucet to keep you company.

You’re restocking a shelf in the lobby when the front door slams open violently. A man staggers in, his eyes bloodshot, clothes tattered, and reeking of what you don’t even want to know. You straighten up and quickly reach into your coat pocket, your grip finding a scalpel from earlier. Using your thumb, you work to remove the cap and position it between your fingers should you need to use it.

"I need some meds," he growls, slamming his fists down on the reception desk. "The strong stuff, now!"

"Sir, I need you to calm down," you say, trying to keep your voice even despite the adrenaline surge. "I can help, but first, you need to tell me what's wrong."

"Listen here you little bitch, I don’t need advice; I need fucking pills!" he bellows, his voice echoing off the walls. Suddenly, he lunges over the counter, grabbing your arm with a firm grip.

You struggle to pull away, but he’s too strong. You try your scalpel, but he slaps it away. Panic spikes as he twists your arm behind your back and slams you against the counter. Pain shoots through your shoulder, sharp and blinding.

Just then, the door to the clinic bursts open with a force that makes the entire room shake. You barely have time to register the figure rushing in, his movements fast and determined.

And then you see him.

Joel Miller.

His expression is set in a hard line, eyes pinpointing the man pinning you down. Without a word, he grabs the man by the collar and yanks him away from you. The man flails, trying to swing at Joel, but he’s too quick, too angry. He lands a solid punch to the man's jaw, sending him reeling backward into one of the shelves.

"You okay?" he asks, turning to you with concern etched on his face. His hands are still clenched into fists.

Breathing heavily, you nod, rubbing your bruised arm. The pain is sharp, and you know you'll be feeling it tomorrow, but you’re relieved to be free from the man's grasp.

"I think so?" you manage to say, trying to steady your voice as you back away from the counter to put some distance between yourself and the now-groaning figure on the floor.

Joel’s eyes find the man as he slowly picks himself up, giving him a warning glare that promises more if he tries anything again. "Come in here again, and I’ll make sure a broken jaw is the least of your worries," he threatens. Is he always this intense? The man, clutching his jaw and mumbling curses, stumbles out of the clinic.

Once gone, Joel turns back to you, his expression softening. "Let me look at your arm," he says, gently taking it in his hands, his touch careful as he examines the bruising.

“Playing doctor today, are we?" you tease with a smirk.

Joel's chuckle rumbles low and warm, melting some of the tension from your shoulders.

"I'm not, but you could've fooled me," he replies, his touch light as he examines your arm. His eyes hold a soft concern that seems at odds with his typically rugged exterior.

“Didn’t know you were a doctor.”

"Do a lot of women at the bar tell you they’re good at giving stitches?" you quip, watching his reaction.

“Alright, smartass, point taken," he teases, releasing your arm. You gently massage the sore skin.

"How did you know I was in trouble?"

Joel leans against the counter, his brow set as he watches you rub your arm.

"Let's just say I've got good instincts.”

"Instincts, huh?" You say, stepping closer. "I suppose next you’ll say that it was just my luck that you happened to wander by when you did?”

His eyes lock with yours.

"I think you're lucky I came when I did," he agrees, his tone serious now.

"Yeah," you agree, a wave of gratitude washing over you. The clinic is suddenly quiet, and you both look at each other momentarily. Everything suddenly feels heavy.

“Too bad there’s no lottery anymore—I could've used some of that luck earlier,” you joke. Stupid.

Joel shakes his head, eyes still scanning your face, perhaps looking for injuries you hadn't mentioned.

"Really, you should be more careful," he chides. "It’s not safe to be out here alone this close to curfew."

"I usually manage fine," you assert, trying not to let his concern make you feel like you can't handle your job. "Tonight was just... unexpected."

"Doesn't mean it won't happen again. You should think about having someone here with you during late shifts," Joel suggests, his voice low and insistent.

You consider his words, knowing he's right, but it’s also not like people in the QZ are lining up to care for people who aren’t themselves.

Joel seems to read your mind. "Just promise me you'll be careful," he says, stepping back, giving you space. His eyes still hold that fierce protective glint.

"I promise.”

Joel nods once, satisfied. "Good.”

You give him another small smile and think he sees the thank you behind it.

He nods again, eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he turns to leave. As he walks towards the door, you watch him go, feeling a mix of emotions—appreciation, relief, and that same magnetic pull from last night.

“Joel?” you call out, halting his steps. “You like whiskey?”

Joel turns, a curious arch lifting his brow as he shifts from his reserved demeanor.

"Yeah, I like whiskey," he replies. "Why, you offering?"

A playful smile dances on your lips.

"Maybe I am," you say, considering for a moment. "How about a thank-you drink? My place isn't far."

For a moment, Joel just looks at you, assessing.

"Lead the way, Doc,” he says, his voice carrying a warmth you haven’t heard before.

++++

You unlock the door to your unit, stepping aside to let him in. "Make yourself comfortable," you say, gesturing vaguely towards the living room. Joel nods and walks through the threshold. As he passes, you notice that he smells slightly sweet and smoky, with a rich, woody undertone.

He takes a seat on the worn couch that’s a carry over from the 80’s, it creaks under his weight. He settles back, his knees spreading wide, and makes himself at home.

Heading into the kitchen, you rummage through the cabinets before finding an old bottle of whiskey. You don’t own any glasses.

You call out to Joel, "I hope you don’t mind sharing with me." You unscrew the cap, take a swig directly from the bottle, and feel the warm burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat.

You cough. “It's not great, but it’s the best I’ve got.”

Carrying the bottle back to the living room, you pass it to Joel with a playful wink. "Your turn," you say, watching him take his swig with an approving nod. He takes a moment to assess the bottle; not bad for decade-old Tennessee whiskey.

As he drinks, you walk over to a shelf cluttered with various knickknacks and pull out an old battery-powered CD player. Rifling through the modest stack of CDs you’ve traded more ration cards for than you care to admit, you pull out the one you're after and slide it into the player.

As the first chords of Pearl Jam's "Alive" reverberate through the room, Joel's head swivels, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Holy shit. Pearl Jam?" he says, his voice tinged with surprise.

"You know ‘em?" you respond, settling beside him on the couch.

He looks at you with a you’ve got to be serious look.

“Yeah, darlin’, I know ‘em. Pretty sure I was listening to them before you were even born.”

“Oh please,” you laugh, gently elbowing him in the ribs as you snatch the whiskey bottle back. “I’m not that young.” “Pretty sure I’m old enough to be your daddy,” he looks at you. You’re not sure who moved closer, you or him. You feel the solid warmth of his thigh pressed firmly against yours, sending a spark through you.

You turn and look up at him through your lashes.

“Is that what you want to be?” You feel a little thrill as you watch his pupils dilate, and his jaw tightens.

You take another swig from the bottle, and his eyes linger on your lips and the shine from the amber liquid on them. “My daddy,” you emphasize the word daddy with a suggestive tone. His hands flex on his thighs. You can tell he’s holding back, trying to maintain composure. He blushes a little; you notice.

Your words hang in the air. You decide to go easy on him. For now.

“I’m just fucking with you; that’s not really my thing,” you lie. You take another sip from the bottle, and you feel the alcohol coursing through your veins, your cheeks warming from the combination of the whiskey and his burning gaze. Your muscles feel a little gooey, and your bones feel lighter.

“All yours, cowboy,” you say, passing him the bottle. His left-hand kitten kisses yours as he grabs it, and even though it was just a brief touch, you still feel it afterward. You bring your free hand to his resting on his thigh. His knuckles have started to heal, but scabs still linger.

“You gonna tell me how you got this for real this time?” Your fingers gently explore the rough texture of his skin, tracing the prominent veins that stand out beneath. He clenches his hand into a fist, looking at you with an intensity that suggests you don’t want to know.

"Alright Miller, keep your secrets then," you murmur playfully, leaning in so your side body is pressed against his arm. You gently pluck the bottle from his grasp and set it aside on the table. Sliding onto his lap, you straddle him, your thighs framing his sides.

“Wh – what are you doin’?”

"If you won't tell me, the least you can do is kiss me," you suggest, your fingers weaving through his hair, using it to tilt him up to look at you. His eyes flicker to your lips, and his hand cradles your face as you inch nearer. His thumb brushes softly across your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. His touch wanders, trailing from your neck to your waist, each movement charged with tension.

Suddenly, he shifts, flipping you onto your back with a smooth motion. Your back hits the cushions and a small oof escapes your lungs. Your thighs are still bracketing him. The pressure of his hips against your center makes your insides flutter.

“You’re a needy little thing, arentcha?”

Mhmm, you moan, cupping his face, trying to pull him closer to you. The hardness you feel pressed up on your hips makes you a little desperate.

God, you’re perfect, he thinks. So warm and willing, making it so easy for him.

You’ve been fairly obvious in your flirting with him. He hasn’t been with a woman in a while, but he sure as shit wasn’t born yesterday. A voice in his mind tells him this might be the liquor talking, not you. Or worse, he thinks you might feel like you owe him something for helping you out earlier.

He wants you, but not like this.

"I think you're a little drunk, darlin'," he whispers, his voice low and teasing. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, noses so close they touch.

“So what if I am?” you giggle.

“Kiss me, Miller.” His eyes fall to your lips.

You close your eyes, expecting a kiss, but instead, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I should go," he murmurs, pulling away and standing up. "Get some sleep," he adds, his voice mingling with the music. Before you can reach for him, he's out the door, leaving you wet, tipsy, and confused.

By the time Joel returned to his unit, the ache in his jeans was almost too much to bear.

He fucked his hand twice that night, once to the thought of how you felt on top of him, your hips rocking into his, and the other to the thought of what your lips might feel like pressed against his.

He wanted to kiss you. He wants to kiss you.

And while his cock might have other thoughts on the matter, he’s never been one to take advantage. Joel knows he’s a bad man, but he’s not bad enough to do that to you.

He’s done many hard things, but walking away from you at that moment might be near the top of the list.

++++

You feel his fingers on your forearm, gently tracing up and down on the skin there when you open your eyes. He’s sitting on the bed next to you. His voice, a heavy mix of concern and warmth now, steadies your spinning world. You try and sit up. What the actual fuck is happening? Wasn’t he…just?

"Hey, take it easy," Joel murmurs, guiding you gently back against the pillows.

As you settle, the dizzying spin of the room slows, and you're met with Joel's intense stare. He's studying you, his eyes flickering with a mixture of unease and something deeper, something unspoken.

"You okay?" His voice is a soft murmur, barely rising above the whistle from the broken window across the room.

You nod, but your heart feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest —not just from the disorienting fall, but from the closeness of him. The magnetic pull you've felt since the beginning is more palpable now, impossible to ignore. You blink away the last clouds of your dizziness and focus on him. His shirt clings to him, damp with sweat; his usually neat hair begins to curl at the edges, and there's a tightness in his expression that mirrors the pain you feel.

You’re aching, not in your muscles or bones; no, it’s deeper than that. It's like the pull of a wave threatening to take you under tow.

"Yeah, just,” you sigh. “Joel, I feel so weird," you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m so hot,” you say, and admitting it out loud overwhelms you.

“I know, baby, me too,” Joel responds softly, his hand brushing lightly over your shoulder,

He’s so sweet and tender. The nickname lingers in your mind and plays on a loop.

Baby. Baby.

Warmth spreads up from your chest, a burning sensation that lodges behind your ribcage, familiar yet overwhelming. Tears start to prick your eyes, and before you can hold them back, they stream down your face.

You're crying now, not just from the discomfort but from everything—the closeness, the concern in his voice, the way he keeps calling you baby, and the deep ache it all stirs within you.

“Stupid fucking flower,” you say through your tears.

“What’s that now?”

“In the field—the flower, the colorful one I showed you. I didn’t know what it was at first, but then I remembered reading about it in a book about herbal remedies.”

“And you think this flower has something to do with what’s wrong with us right now?” he questions.

“I don’t remember what it’s called, but I remember reading a warning about it –”

He doesn’t say anything; he just looks at you, patiently waiting for you to finish your thought.

“The flower,” you sniffle. “Well, the sap and pollen of the flower, I should say, have some strange side effects if ingested or put into the bloodstream…”

“Go on, baby.”

There it is again. Baby.

“It causes extreme arousal, light-headedness, and a shit ton of other things I don’t remember.”

“Oh. Well, that explains –”

“Yeah,” you cut him off, already knowing what he wanted to say. You use the back of your hand to wipe away some moisture from your face, but there’s no point; you still feel the tears falling. You close your eyes and try to will the discomfort from your mind.

“It's okay, darlin'," he murmurs, "I’m here. We'll just let it run its course, alright?" His arms envelop you, drawing you tightly against the solid warmth of his chest. Gently, he cradles the curve of your head in his hand, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady against your ear. You open your eyes, and through your wet vision, you look down and see that he’s still hard.

“Joel, I –” his hand floats to the column of your neck, holding you to look at him.

“What do you need, baby?”

“I need you to fuck me.”

Shit. No going back now.

“I can’t do that. We’re not in the right state of mind. I don’t want to take advan–”

“Joel, please,” you say through your tears.

He looks at you like he’s at war with his mind and body; your desperate doe eyes stare back at him.

His cock twitches.

He’s been in pain ever since you hit the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to finish after you passed out again. How could he? He was too worried about you. Every fiber of his being was screaming to cum, but the concern he held for you overrode it all.

“Joel, I’m begging you,” you plead.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yeah—yes. Joel, I need you,” you respond quickly, already moving to drag the unbuttoned jeans off your body. He’s still unmoving, and his body feels like molasses—viscous and sluggish. You’ve rid yourself of your shirt when you command his attention again, “Joel!”

“Fuck, yeah – okay,” he takes off his shirt, and you help him with his buckle. He undoes his jeans once more while you make quick work of removing your bra and underwear, leaving yourself bare in front of him.

“Lay back, baby, need to taste you.” You do as he says, letting your knees fall to the sides until you’re spread open for him. He comes to his knees on the bed, the mattress groaning under his weight.

“God damn, darlin’ — could cum just from lookin’ at you like this,” he says, stroking his cock. You thought he was big when you saw him in the corner, but seeing him this close, really seeing him, is another story.

He collapses onto his stomach between your legs, his breath warm against your skin. Gently, he presses his lips to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, delivering a playful nip that sends a shiver through you.

“Wanna taste you – you have no idea how bad I want to taste you,” he groans as he breathes in your scent, the tip of his aquiline nose bumps against your clit. You’re so keyed up already, a dripping mess for him, your aching clit just begging for a bit of attention.

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. He clamps his eyes shut and groans. “So fuckin’ sweet, baby.”

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He plants a soft kiss on the top of your mound and then gently parts his lips, allowing his tongue to lick through your dripping folds.

“Please,” You cry, with one hand gripping the worn fabric of the bedspread and one tugging on his messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth.

“I’ll take care of you, baby, don’t worry, ‘m here,” he whispers before returning his attention to you.

Your vision fills with glittering spots while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, you think, but you can’t be sure; your sense of time is fully warped.

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their death grip on the fabric. You feel your peak approaching. It feels different, like euphoria injected straight into your veins.

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick fingers into your wet heat.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he mumbles against your skin. He picks up his pace and then adds another finger, one your greedy cunt happily accepts. He hooks them slightly so they’re pressing against the spongey spot inside you that you can never seem to reach yourself.

“Come on, baby. Wanna feel you.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, and then tension inside you releases all at once, snaps, and hurtles you into another dimension.

As if the cosmos has poured all its beauty into a single moment, the wave of your orgasm breaks—an explosion of white light, pure and cleansing, sweeping away all that came before, cooling the fire raging inside of you.

Joel works you through it, his fingers keeping a steady rhythm as you come down, coated in a gentle rain of shimmering particles, bathed in a serene and growing peace, and you catch your breath.

“I’ve–I’ve never felt anything like that,” you pant, “That was amazing.”

“It was pretty pretty to watch, too,” he tells you, rising between your legs. His hand comes to his cock again, holding it by the base. He’s furiously hard, the tip of him drooling, the color of it a deep, rich shade of violet.

“I need you, baby, so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, voice wrecked.

You spread your legs open a little wider for him, bringing your hands to your knees, spreading your glistening cunt open for him.

“She’s all yours,” you coo, and he’s on you. He arranges himself above you, his forearms taking the brunt of his weight, yet the impressive heft of him presses down, enveloping you in his presence. His broadness looms, an expansive canopy; he eclipses your view, and all that exists in this moment is him. You wrap your fingers around his midsection, and he lines the tip of himself up with your wet and waiting hole.

“You’re mine,” he tells you like it’s a fact, not a statement, as he pushes his hips forward and buries his cock deep inside of you. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. There’s a dull sting, but it quickly dissipates as he pulls out of you slowly and then thrusts forward again. The slow drag of his cock against your walls, the tip of it kissing your cervix, sends you into a frenzy.

“Faster – ah shit, harder –” you moan and he begins to ravage you without mercy, kissing and nipping at the razor edge of your jaw, the tip of your chin. Your moans are muffled against his skin, cries of pleasure that rise in pitch with each thrust forward.

“Mmm, you’re so warm,” he huffs and moans above you as he fucks away at your tight core. “Feels so good, not gonna last long like this. Tight little pussy’s choking me too good.”

The familiar, odd sensation washes over you again, that strange mix of feeling both insubstantial and overwhelmingly heavy. It's as if you're simultaneously a feather, drifting weightlessly, and a boulder, rooted deeply and immovably. This feeling lifts and anchors you, leaving you floating between reality and a dreamlike state.

You focus on the feeling of his thrusts.

Back and forth.

In and out.

Back and forth.

In and out.

You’re drunk off it, off him.

He snakes his hand behind your body to grab your ass for extra leverage, allowing him to slam into you harder, his hips thrusting against yours. The thatch of dark hair at the base of him rubs up against your swollen clit. You feel like you’re getting fucked into near unconsciousness, your eyes heavy and half-lidded.

“Joel,” you moan, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m so close, oh my god, please.”

Joel’s eyes roll shut as you wrap your arms and legs around him tightly, holding on for dear life as he fucks you like a man possessed.

“That’s it baby, beg for it,” he tells you, and you do.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you cry out, “Daddy, please.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Joel groans as he feels your walls clamp down on him, your orgasm gripping you like a fever.

“Good fucking girl,” he praises.

Tears once again stream from your face, this time from pleasure, as he splits you open even more.

He repositions, bringing your knees to your chest, holding them together with his strong arms as he continues to push in and out of you.

The tension builds, a gathering storm within him. Every nerve seems to tighten, coil, ready to spring. His world narrows and blurs until there’s only you and the tight feel of your pussy around him.

“Gonna come,” he tells you, and his thrusts slow.

His breath catches, and he quickly pulls out of you. Then, the release comes— your legs fall to the sides again, and a spray of his cum lands on you, hot thick ropes of it drooling from his cock.

He’s floored by relief, pleasure radiating through his body. It's like watching the sky split open with light after a storm—vivid, raw, and beautifully clear.

The aftermath is quiet, a soft descent back into himself, marked by a satisfying stillness.

He drops to the bed beside you, and you both stare at the ceiling, breathless, nothing but prey ensnared in a web of desire. He looks at you, his deep brown eyes now soft and satisfied.

“So…Daddy, huh?”

Part 3 - Coming 5/19

A/N Continued: Okay ngl, I am down so bad for these two. If you are, too, I would really appreciate a comment or a reblog. Your feedback and interaction really are so special to me. Tags: @syd-djarin @endlessthxxghts @thereaperisabitch @caramilena @promptly-mercy @alex-does-art-things @swankyorange @ayishahislost @bensonispunk @doblasftcisco @lizlil @pigeonmama @sullyselena @deansimpalagirl @theelectricmind @pedropascalsbbg @laramc-02 @elegantduckturtle @rainbow12346 @senoratess @eff4freddie @auteurdelabre @yxtkiwiyxt @javipispunk @reedrchards @miller-n-morgan @sawymredfox @casa-boiardi @punkshort @pastawench @survivingandenduring @aspecialgreenie @puduvallee @moel-jiller @sheepdogchick3

#joel miller smut #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #sex pollen #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #jettsflora&faunachallenge

644 notes · View notes