honey-on-your-tongue

[honey-on-your-tongue]

OMFG YES. JUST YES.

so i saw this man and my rotted brain went i bet he spends a lot of time jerking off and yes i know the context of the picture idk what to tell you, and then y'all encouraged me, and here we are.

cw: f!reader, masturbation (m&f), edging, addictive behavior, voyeurism, extremely inappropriate behavior by joelseph miller, light spoilers for tlou2, idk if this is hot or just weird but it's both to me, sorry if there are words missing i wrote this in a fugue state and that happens sometimes

It starts as a way to pass the time. Even with his wood-carving and guitar-making and patrol shifts, there are still soooooo many hours in the day. Ellie's in her own little place, all independent, and the dating pool is about as dry as you'd think for a place with 300 people.

He doesn't mean to get addicted to it. It just happens. He Pavlovs himself into getting hard every time he's alone in his house. And it's fine, actually, because he hasn't really been able to relax in over twenty years, so why shouldn't he just give himself this one thing? Just to pass the time.

But then it's not just to pass the time.

Eventually he can't keep his hands off his cock when he's alone. He can barely wait to shut the door behind himself and strip, using whatever's handy (lol) as lube, or if he really can't wait, he'll spit in his hand and go at it.

And it's amazing.

He's never let himself feel this good, never done anything just for him, and fuck, he can't stop. He likes making noise, moaning so fucking loud it echos. He figures out different techniques, different ways to hold himself, how to make himself almost come and stop before it actually happens.

He can go for hours if he has the time.

He tries not to let it affect his life, still makes time for other things, but if he can, he'll get off a couple of times a day.

Tommy comes knocking on his door one day, just after he's finished. He can still feel the flush on his neck, heart still pounding in his chest, head still clouded with endorphins. He wipes his sticky hand on a shirt he needs to wash anyway and opens the door, hoping it doesn't smell too much like come in the living room.

If Tommy notices anything he doesn't say it, just goes right into introductions--Joel, she's new, and she needs a place to stay until we get her permanent place ready. Just a few weeks.

You're pretty, really fucking gorgeous, smiling all sweet and polite with some little accent he can't place, but he doesn't want you here in his space. This is his space, this is where he--where he relaxes.

But he can hardly decline. You stick your hand out in greeting, and he clasps his over it, cringing internally as he remembers he'd just had his cock in his hand not five minutes before, just wiped all the results his activities even less than.

If he hadn't just come, he'd probably be hard again, and he feels like the dirtiest old man that ever lived.

You promise you won't be a bother, and he tells you not to worry about it. You're polite and thoughtful and you pitch in with chores and his dick is going to fucking explode if you don't leave this house soon.

He's gotta figure something out. He still gets time in the bathroom or before he goes to sleep, but his orgasms are small and unsatisfying and he's short tempered--even more so than usual, even to you. He doesn't want that, though. Even if he is a dirty old man, even if he does need this, he doesn't want you to be upset with him or have him think he's upset with you.

Eventually he starts locking himself in his studio, tells you he just likes to be alone when he's carving and to please not disturb him. And you don't. Sometimes you even leave, and he can be as loud as he wants, and it works, and he'll be able to get through these next few weeks.

The thing is that you're not an idiot. You know what an erection looks like, you know what desperation looks like, you know exactly what's bothering him. Also, the house is quiet, and your hearing is much better than his. You can hear him even when he's trying to keep it down, the soft slap slap slap, the groan, the stopping and whimpering before he spits in his hand and starts again.

He's making you fucking crazy.

Every time he comes out looking flushed and chipper and asking how your day's going, you have to excuse yourself and get off as quickly as you can.

It goes like that for a while, like this game of jerk off tag, and you really, really want to see him.

He wants to let you.

It doesn't take him long to pick up on the fact that you know what he's doing, when you just happen to be hanging around the immediate vicinity of his studio when he comes out. The way your pupils are blown wide, lips parted and bitten, almost panting, running off to take care of something in your room.

You've been so good to him, letting him have this thing he needs so badly, even though you could've shamed him for it, and he wants to share it with you. He wants to show you. He wants you to see him, and he wants to see you, too.

The door is ajar the next time you sneak down the hall, and you're greeted to the most delicious sight. Naked--naked--shimmering with sweat and effort, one big hand pumping his impressive cock, shiny with precome and spit. The bulbous tip is dribbling steadily like he's been at it for a while, every now and then he thrusts up with his hips, groaning and freezing like he's trying to keep from coming all over himself.

You've never seen a man enjoy himself so much, and you don't move an inch. You just want to watch him bite his lips and moan, that mane of salt and pepper hair slick with perspiration. This is on purpose, he wants you to see. He's so careful, door locked, mostly dressed all those times you got to your knees to peek through the keyhole.

He knows.

He opens his eyes when the floorboard creaks, a smirk spreading across his lips just before he bares his teeth, gripping the base of his cock.

"C'mere," he rasps. "Look at it."

You move a little closer, feeling shy, but you do as he says. You watch him. You wait.

"Look at it," he groans, breath hitching, hips stuttering into his fist. "Watch."

He comes with a long, loud moan. It goes everywhere--his hand, his belly, his chest. You don't move, you just watch his face slacken, whispering something over and over, licking his lips. He's lost in it. You're shaking, pussy soaking as you wait for him to open his eyes.

His panting slows, his soft belly going up and down with each steady breath. You can't stop looking at him. He gives you a long, feral leer and crooks two fingers at you.

"C'mere." He pats one sticky thigh. "Your turn."

ANYWAY BYE

[honey-on-your-tongue]

burying your face in his neck while you ride him on the couch. feeling his head turn and his lips glide a wet path over your jaw before he nips at it, breathing something about how good you’re making him feel — or maybe something with more of a teasing edge. getting tired? need me to do it for you? his hands cupping under your ass, getting a good handful before moving up to grip and guide your movements. maybe a light smack for encouragement. there you go, don’t stop now. ride that dick. you do it so well, baby. so well that i don’t think i can pull out.

[honey-on-your-tongue]

pascalispunk: Happy Mother’s Day

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People are calling women who read ‘spicy’ novels porn addicts on TikTok and when women responded “um. That’s not what addiction is.” People are going “the first symptom of addiction is denial” like okay buddy.

[honey-on-your-tongue]

I forgot how to draw...

GIRLS!!!! REMEMBER!!!

When you're starting to think that you're ugly and no one loves you! - there's ALWAYS someone who thinks that you're very cute!!!

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how I read the most toe-curling, spine-shattering, nerve-wrecking, nastiest smut ever written in this god forsaken app

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the reblog dillema on tumblr dot com is insane. why are we still having these conversations in the big year of 2024? just reblog the fic?? LEAVE A COMMENT? do the bare minimum?? its called etiquette babe! try it!! if you read a fic, reblog it, i promise it's not hard 🫶🏽.

you read dirty filthy disgusting smut? you liked the fic? okay hit reblog. nobody gives a shit, and if they do, block them!! it's liberating you should try it.

curate your tumblr experience it is NOT that deep, it will never be that deep. it's not embarassing to reblog fic, this is tumblr, be so ffr with yourself pls.

support the authors (and artists!!) who make you happy and they will continue to do so with no qualms i promise.

[honey-on-your-tongue]

I'm sorry just Javier Peña and Oberyn in general HEHE

Pedro Pascal's Sluttiest Moments

Slutty is Oberyn running his hand across a candle.

If you see this post, please share a slutty Pedro moment.

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Pedro Pascal as Max Phillips Bloodsucking Bastards (2015) // dir. Brian James O'Connell

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The feminine urge to unbuckle his pants and good god forget what feminism is 😩

The feminine urge to roll up his sleeves, unbutton a few more on his shirt and make him sweat 🫠

I love a man who can do both

Materialist pic source @a7estrellas

[honey-on-your-tongue]

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Prompt #1089

"Why did you come back?"

"Because I forgot something important."

"Oh, what did you forget?"

"You, you idiot."

[honey-on-your-tongue]

PEDRO PASCAL is seen at the movie set of the 'Materialists'

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google play exclusive: pedro pascal for hispanic heritage month

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Why is this so true?

meme by: @Inknopewetrust

[honey-on-your-tongue]

YES. JUST YES.

if she wears cute lingerie for you don’t take everything off, push the panties to the side and fuck her in her cute little outfit.