#I may be a little drunk but that’s besides the point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luv4kozume · 2 months

Text

🎯 𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐎 — MATT STURNIOLO

— # ❝ 𝐈'𝐦𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 ! ❞ 🎧 ₊˚⊹

Cowboy!Matt x Cowgirl!Black!Fem!Reader

Contains: Swearing, lowkey fuckboy!matt, mentions of alcohol, pet names (baby), oral m!receiving, cum eating, fingering, praise, teasing, riding, rebound sex, public(ish) sex, drunk sex, unprotected sex, creampie. Proof read!

Synopsis: A story in which you forget all about your ex after meeting Matt at a costume party.

Word Count: 3,916

💋 — Requested: “can you do a matt smut with a black reader where he sees her at a party and they fuck🙏”

a/n: SAVE A HORSE…. RIDE A WHAT?!?! Also I’m not the fanfic police, you can read no matter what you are, I keep my writing pretty general. Just followed the prompt for the request!! ENJOY BABIES!! 💋💋

Other song mentioned: Killin’ You Hoes by Trina 🤭

*:･ﾟ✧ 💌 *:･ﾟ✧

OCTOBER 31, 2024 ₊˚⊹

“YOU SEE THE OUTFIT, BITCH?” Your friend screamed at the top of her lungs as her acrylics wrapped around the steering wheel, whipping the vehicle around the corner. Nearly scraping her rims against the curb in the process, as she sped down the neighborhood to the tempo of Trina’s song. “CUTE FACE AND ASS SWOLL!”

Your palm flattened against your stomach, your face twisting up in discomfort as you peered out the car window. Your stomach churned with anxiety, but not from your friend’s reckless driving. You had grown accustomed to that.

No, it was something else entirely.

“Girl, what’s the matter? You’re not even finishing the lyrics.” She asks, her tone still high as she turned down the music.

The glitter from her cat-like makeup shimmered against her toned cheeks, the amber streetlights carving out her soft features.

“Nothing.” You lie, turning around to face her. She gave you a side eye before bringing her attention back to the road.

“You’re not still hung up over that bum ass dude, right?” She scoffed in a half joking tone.

You hesitated before answering her question. Had you made it that obvious?

Yes, it may have been true that the only reason why you were all dressed up and going out to this party tonight was because she practically dragged you out of bed.

Your now, ex-boyfriend, dumped you without any sort of warning not to long ago and you hadn’t been the same since. It was a struggle being productive everyday, let alone being social with others.

Your original plans for Halloween were to stay inside and pass out candy to the little kids that came to visit. But your friend quickly shut that “lame-ass” idea down— her words, not yours. You just hadn’t seen the point in doing anything else.

In fact, your costume choice had her name written all over it. You would never in a million years wear this shit, but she successfully picked your brain.

Your eyes glanced down to the bright buckle of your leather belt as your fingers nervously looped under the sleeves of your red flannel. A brown cowgirl hat to match, that annoyingly pressed against the car’s seat each time you’d move.

“No.” You huffed out, rolling your eyes. You had already heard enough of her lectures this week, you were certainly not in the mood for another. Especially since this was supposed to be your night to forget all about him.

“Good. Because I’m gonna tell you right now, I don’t wanna hear shit about him.” A playful smile pulling at her lips, glancing over at your every so often. “Besides, you might even meet someone here.”

“I doubt that.” You sigh, a faint smile spreading across your face.

*ೃ༄

It wasn’t long before you started to feel overwhelmed and slightly agitated. Not even ten minutes into the party, your friend darted straight to the alcohol and slipped in between a group of sketchy looking guys. You watched her from the couch, wishing to not get entangled in that mess.

You only agreed to come out with her tonight because she claimed it help you get your mind off your current situation. But now you were stranded alone in a strange house on Halloween night— left with nothing but the thoughts of your ex swarming in your head.

You blew a raspberry, peering down at your red solo cup that was practically still full. The bass of the music bouncing off the walls and echoing in your head, causing ripples to form in your drink.

You grabbed your phone that buzzed in your pocket. Squinting at the overwhelming brightness before lowering it to read a text from her that appeared on your screen.

bestie bae 💗

I think that guy in the cowboy hat likes you.

Hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night. 👀

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, scanning the crowd of various bodies for the vague description she gave you. Nearly giving up, you just assumed she was tipsy and pulling shit out of her ass. Until you made eye contact with him.

He stood leaning against the wall talking to some other guy. One hand buried into the pocket of his black jeans, the other holding a beer in his hand. A smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced over at you. His eyes pierced right through you as if you were transparent, before turning his eyes back to the other man.

His ears were pierced, the silver jewelry shining in the party lights. His sleeves of his red flannel rolled up to his forearms, a trail of dark hair decorating them lightly. Finally, a black cowboy hat rested on top of his head, his brown locks falling gracefully over his forehead.

Your heart fluttered when his eyes shot back at yours for the second time, now eyeing you up and down. His gaze felt like he was slowly undressing you, peeling your costume off inch by inch to get to the most delectable parts.

You squirmed in the cushions of the couch, pressing your thighs together. Maybe it was the cognac, maybe it was the party atmosphere, or maybe it was just him— you couldn’t decipher the exact cause but one thing was for certain; you were most definitely attracted to this man.

You turn away, finally breaking the eye contact from the stranger. Darting them down to your phone to answer her text, but you couldn’t even send your message through before being interrupted by her new one. Warning you that he was coming your way.

“Hey.” He spoke, his tone low and raspy. Sending shivers down your spine. He stood over you confidently, forcing you to look up at him with those round, innocent eyes of yours.

“Hi.” You mumble, shutting your phone off and placing it on your lap.

“I’m Matt.” He revealed, claiming his spot on the empty couch right next to you. His thigh pressing against yours as he manspread, you couldn’t help but take a glance down to his groin.

“Y/N.” You reply, nearly inaudible due to the music still blasting throughout the house. But he didn’t mind, in fact he loved your shyness. It gave him all the more confidence to take leadership. And besides, he knew exactly how the quiet ones were like in bed.

Butterflies swarmed in the pit of your stomach, feeling the warmth of his body heat rush towards you as he leaned over to align his lips up to your ear.

The bass of the music pumping in your chest as you could smell the alcohol on his breath, slightly giving his speech a seductive slur, “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here—” He started, bringing his palm down to your bare legs, gently caressing the plush skin of your thigh, “—all alone?”

You had to exhale a breath in order to answer his question. You grabbed onto his bicep, leaning in towards his ear to whisper back, “Trying to get over an ex.”

“He dumped you?” Matt replied in mere shock.

You could only nod in response, mortified to admit that out loud to anyone that wasn’t your friend.

“What a fucking idiot.” He spat out. “Who would drop a girl like you?”

A faint smile appearing across your face, giving him a playful shrug, “He did apparently.”

A devious grin pulled at the corners of his lips, the same one from just a few moments before. Something sinful on his mind, mentally debating if he should even throw the idea out there.

But of course, his thoughts took over. He just couldn’t help himself, he would always be there for a sweet damsel in distress. And there you were, sitting so helplessly on the couch just begging to be ruined.

“Wanna take this upstairs, so I can show you how much he fucked up?”

*ೃ༄

Alcohol coursed through his veins, leaving him in a frenzy as the music from downstairs blasted through the walls. Your ass hiked up in the air, waving ever so slightly each time you’d lower your head down on his cock.

He had it made up in his mind that your ex had to be mentally deranged to toss a girl like you to the curb, with a mouth like that you’d get anything you wanted from him and more. All you had to say was the word and he’d do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

“Fuck baby, just like that.” Matt groaned, his head thrown back into the pillows behind him. “Keep going.”

More praises tumbled out from his lips, leaving you encouraged to go faster. Eager to see what face he’d make or the sounds that would come out from him as he finished.

His hips moving up on their own, slightly bucking up into you. Your mouth closing in on his member is just the right ways as your tongue swirled around his tip that oozed with precum.

Your fingers wrapped around the base, pumping the rest of what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. A pool of saliva bubbling around him and trickling through the gaps of your fingers as you continued bobbing your head up and down.

One of his hands came down, grabbing at your hat and quickly getting rid off it so that he could gaze upon the wondrous sight in front of him. Moving your hair out from your eyes, only for you to look up at him with that same helpless look you had on the couch. It was enough to make him spend right then and there.

His cheeks were flushed and his flannel was unbuttoned, exposing his toned stomach that would rise and fall with each movement of your tongue. A conniving smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your brought your mouth up to his tip, leaving a sloppy kiss against it before flicking your tongue on his slit.

“Fuck. You know what you’re doing, huh?” He groaned with a smirk.

You hummed against him, sending a pleasing tingling sensation all through his body.

“Keep doing that and I’ma cum.” He continued, this time nearly out of breath as his orgasm slowly approached. “Gonna be a good girl for me and take it all?”

“Yes.” You replied in a faint whisper that was hardly audible. Your timidness mixed with your risqué behavior was a dangerous combination. You never broke eye contact with him before slipping your lips past his tip, lowering your head back down as far as you could and pumping the rest with your hand.

His fingers caught in the sheets as he continued feeding you with praises through low grunts and moans. A knot twisting in his stomach as you picked up the pace, his brain completely fogged and all logic thrown out the window. Focusing on nothing else other than his high and the lust he had out for you.

“Oh, shit.” He groaned, his voice low and raspy. His fingers snuck around to the back of your head, pushing your mouth down further onto his dick. The tip hitting the back of your throat as his warm cum spurted out, some seeping past the corners of your mouth and trickled down your chin as he filled it up. “Come on baby, take it.”

Your eyes screwed shut, whimpering against his strong grip for a moment before he let go.

“Open.” He muttered, his hand gripping your face.

You stuck out your tongue, opening your mouth as much as you could. Your heart raced as his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, examining each crease and crevice of your mouth to make sure you did exactly as you were told.

“So good for me. I like that shit.” He smirked as he let go of your lip, amused at how it bounced back up in place.

A giggle slipping past your lips as you crawled up towards him, your knees sinking down into the mattress as you straddled his hips.

One of your hands went straight to his hair, brushing it back from his forehead, tipping off his hat slightly in the process. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, so soft and plump, you craved for them to be on your own.

Without any hesitation, you pressed your lips against his. It started off sweet and delicate almost, with your timid little pecks. But Matt made it clear he needed so much more, slipping his tongue past your lips and his hands navigated their way down to your zipper.

The kiss soon turned into a heated, sloppy mess. The sounds of your lips smacking against his, the mixing of saliva, your teeth clashing together— it all was a sweet melody to your ears that you could listen to on repeat for hours.

Matt swallowed each whimper and plea that slipped past your lips. A pool of your arousal filled up between your legs as his veiny hands removed your denim shirts at an agonizingly slow pace.

Now the only thing keeping your dripping center away from his length was the thin, taunting fabric of your panties— that you so desperately needed ripped off. Your hips instinctively began moving on their own, shamelessly rocking down onto him. So needy to get even the slightest bit of friction.

His fingers dug into the handle of your hips to hold you down into place. Another one of those cocky smirks spread across his face just before pulling away from the kiss. He adored the way you squirmed in his grip, practically crying in protest that he put your greedy, lustful movements to a halt. He absolutely lived for the teasing, he’d argue that it was his favorite part— other than the actual act itself, of course.

“So desperate for my cock, hm pretty girl?” He cooed as his hand traveled down past your stomach.

You tried to give him a response but your mind failed to form a proper sentence. It was completely fogged and consumed with an overwhelming amount of concupiscent thoughts. His finger tips teasingly danced just over the waistband of your panties before finally slipping into them.

Your head dropped down, hiding yourself into the crook of his neck. Your hands clenched around his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt entangling itself in your fingers. A series of whines and cries poured out from you. Taking in the rhythmic movements of his digits. You couldn’t help but grind down into his palm as you felt his fingers trickle down to your entrance.

The way your wetness oozed out from you and coated his fingers had his dick weeping. It ached in excitement to be buried inside you, pushing himself as deep as you’d let him. He could only imagine how it would feel to have your warm, velvety walls wrapped around his cock. You were already so whiny with just his fingers, he wondered how you’d sound with something much larger.

His name escaped past your lips in a breathy moan when you felt two of his fingers slip inside you. He only hummed in amusement, taking in the way your pussy hugged around his fingers so snugly.

“Such a brave girl, taking in the fingers of a stranger. Having me make you feel like this.” He coaxed in way that set your body ablaze, but that didn’t keep him from feeding you even more sweet praises.

“Pussy’s so good, I don’t know how he could ever let this shit go.” He nearly moaned at the way you were sucking him in each time he’d pump his fingers into you.

You whined into his skin, slightly upset that he even brought up your ex. You had forgotten all about him by this point and you wanted to keep it that way.

“Don’t worry.” He begins, gently pulling his fingers out from you, leaving you crying in protest. “I’ma get a taste of what he’s missing. Show you how special you are.”

Your head shot up, a flustered expression written all over your face. Your fingers caressed his jaw, his rough stubble pricking your finger tips, as you pulled him over slightly so that your eyes locked into his. You pressed your lips against his once again, your hands cupping around his face to draw him in closer as his fingers looped under the waistband of your panties.

You lifted your knees up from the mattress, only to bring them back down once Matt maneuvered your underwear off each leg. He groaned into the kiss, eagerness coursing through his veins as he quickly tossed them to the floor. His hand ran down along your back, eliciting a whine from you.

“Gonna ride me, cowgirl?” He grinned, grabbing a handful of your ass.

“Mhm.” You hum.

“Help me out.” He replied, referring to the fact that his hands were already quite busy.

You yelped as he raised you up, his fingers digging into the round cushion of your ass. Your dainty fingers shyly wrapped around the base of his dick, one of his veins shamelessly throbbed against your palm.

He sighed watching you place the tip at your entrance, running it along your wetness before finally slipping it inside.

“Oh, fuck.” You cry, it had been embarrassingly long since you last felt a stretch quite like that— it was definitely an adjustment you weren’t exactly prepared to make.

You tugged your bottom lip past your teeth as your palms flattened against his chest, slowly sinking yourself down on his cock. His hands now wrapped around your waist, holding you up straight so that he could see all of you.

“So fucking pretty, baby.” He groaned as he fought the animalistic urge in him to thrust up into you. “Taking my dick so well.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you fully sat on him, his cock stuffing you so full that you could see the bulge in your stomach. His warm hands roamed all over your body, gripping at your tits, squeezing your waist, groping your ass— anywhere and everywhere. He needed to touch, caress, and massage every single inch of your body.

But he’d be fooling himself if he didn’t see the embarrassment written all over your face— he didn’t want you to feel that way, in fact the complete opposite. So he knew he’d have to take the lead, which he doesn’t mind.

“Come here.” He huffs, his arms extending out so that your body falls into them.

Your head drops back down, hiding in the crook of his neck. His strong arms wrapping around your waist in an almost comforting way as yours draped over his shoulders. You could feel his heavy breaths began to pick up as he slowly began rutting his hips up into you.

You got a waft of his cologne mixed in with the alcohol from earlier, an erotic mixture that made your pussy flutter around his cock. One of his hands stayed on your back, his thumb massaging gentle circles into your skin as the other one made its way back down to your ass.

Your ass was heavy against him in a way that had him about to blow his load, he was lost in a trance at how it clapped against him. He fought the urge to pick up the pace, eager to see the ripple of your flesh and hear those sweet cries pouring out from you.

“You sound so sexy, baby.” He groans, propping up his legs so that his knees were now bent. This way, he’d have more control over the movements of his hips.

You only whine in response, the vibrations of your soft voice going straight towards his ear. It sent a shiver down his spine that had him yearning for more.

Your thick arousal trickled down his member, leaving it glistening in the dim amber lighting that the lamp illuminated in the bedroom. Your pussy squelched each time he’d pump himself in, your plush walls clamping down on him with each movement he made. The horrible slow pace drove him nearly to insanity but he had to make sure that you could handle it at first. But he hadn’t realized that he wasn’t the only one struggling.

“Faster, please.” You pleaded, your breath hitting against a sensitive area on his neck that made him shudder just a bit. Both of his hands now cupping your ass as a sly grin grew on his face.

“Is that what you want, pretty girl?” He whispered, adjusting his hips once more before finally giving your needy little cunt everything it ever wanted. “Nice and fast, having my dick touch that sweet spot of yours? I bet you want my cum too.”

A knot formed in the pit of your stomach and your soft pants soon morphed into desperate, broken moans and cries. He wasn’t kidding at that last comment he made, once he found that spongey area inside you, he didn’t give it a break. He angled his hips in a way so that the tip of his cock kissed that same spot over and over.

His fingers dug into your flesh, most definitely leaving markings to discover for later but you could care less. Matt’s dick had completely swamped your brain, like a parasite slowly taking control of your being— and you absolutely loved it.

Your own hips started grinding against his, your movements complementing his now sloppy thrusts. Your body squirmed in his strong grip as you slowly started unraveling above him. He was awfully close as well, a groan slipping past his lips as his cock twitched along your moist walls.

He continued showering you with even more lewd and sweet praises, so much so that you wondered how many other women he’s said these things to. Here you were, struggling to come up with just a few words while he was tumbling out full, proper and complex sentences.

“Squeezing around so fucking tight. It’s like you’re tryna suck me dry, baby.” Matt moans.

You’re so caught up in chasing your own high that you don’t even notice when one of his hands traveled down past your stomach. A sharp gasp slipped past your lips once you felt his finger tips press into your clit. He wasted no time massaging tight, quick circles into that sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Makes me wanna ask for your number.” He continues in a hum. “Would you like that?”

“S-shit!” You stutter, feeling your walls spasm against his thickness, eliciting a strangled moan from him.

Matt pulls more curses out of you as you rode out your orgasm. His hips still rutting up into as you coated his fingers with your sapid juices.

“So so good for me.” He slurred out, pulling his fingers away from your puffy clit.

Both of his hands now hugged your waist keeping that same sloppy rhythm going with his hips. Your sweet voice filling up his ears and consuming his thoughts as you sobbed out his name.

It wasn’t long before he approached his own orgasm. Your body curled into his as you felt the hot, sticky ropes shoot up into you. A white ring forming at the base of cock as he continued fucking his cum back into you before finally pulling himself out with a pop.

The two of your heartbeats raced in your chests, syncing with one another as your heavy pants filled the room. The erotic aroma of sex filled the room and you mentally cursed yourself for fucking this random man in another stranger’s bedroom.

📃 — join the taglist!

@bluesturniolo333 , @hoesformatt , @mattgirly , @stellarsturns , @mattsturniolosgf333 , @mrssturnioloo , @sturniozo , @littlebookworm803 , @only4mattyb , @breeloveschris , @liz-stxrn , @strawberrysturniolo , @mangoposts , @enyaslover , @1horrormoviewhore1 , @whatever1021 , @mysterioussmae , @mattslolita , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniolopowers , @hercigaretteblush , @lovingmattysposts , @stardustmf444 , @lovesturns , @gigisworldsstuff , @crispylouis28 , @that-general-simp , @lustfulslxt , @ifilwtmfc , @chrislapdog , @sstvrnioloo , @angelic-sturniolos111 , @sturniolosreads , @gamermattsgf , @luvmxtt , @kayannettesposts , @sophssturn , @isabellehoran , @sturnfix , @luvmila444 , @luhsexcbihh

©️ LUV4KOZUME 🦢

Navigation! ‧₊˚🥂✩ ₊

#luv4kozume #💌 — request!#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #sturniolos #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

905 notes · View notes

watchyourbuck · 3 months

Text

I really wanted to NOT analyze this scene bc it’s been done so many times but I’m a public menace, so

Buck and Eddie and Chris are at Buck’s loft, after a mission and a less than pleasant conversation w Bobby, and here are my thoughts:

We see Buck (who’s upset), cooking for Chris and Eddie, when — in the whole arc —, we never see him cook for Taylor (or Ali, or really, anyone else but the 118).

Recently therapied™️ Eddie doesn’t give a flying fuck about being interim captain, but has enough eyes to see Buck does. His voice softens, and he gives him foot to discuss his own feelings without hiding them bc Eddie doesn’t share them. (Bonus points bc he makes the same face he made after the lawsuit, in THE Kitchen Scene, when he tells Buck ‘not to beat himself up about it.’).

“Lucy is great– whatever-,” Buck says absentmindedly, and we get a glimpse of Eddie’s smug little face. It kind of implies he knows about the kiss, but opts to say nothing. He did, in fact, cheat on Taylor (and Chris is in the room). But the grin falls a little. Maybe he’s not so nonchalant about it, after all. Or maybe, he knows they (she and Buck) never stood a chance. He looks – relieved, almost.

Eddie feels comfortable enough to keep actually playing with his kid. Enough to win, actually. He doesn’t feel that comfortable at his parent’s house (5x17).

Buck keeps talking about this, and even if he acts like he doesn’t care (and Eddie has dealt with that sarcastic-coping-mechanism-tone Buck does one too many times), he’s visibly angry, so Eddie changes the subject. “What are you offering?”

“Right now? Bobby’s famous lasagna.” Okay, this doesn’t scream ‘I’m cooking you my family recipes’ to anyone else?

Then we have The Diaz’ compliments, which not only sound genuine, but make Buck grin. Like he did something right. Besides, it took him ‘three tries to get it right.’ Interesting, when other in the show has Buck not given up immediately after something doesn’t go his way? Surely, this had to be something he was very keen on achieving, cuz he barely cooks for himself.

Chris’ little ‘you don’t even have a couch’ is very funny to me. Because he’s a kid and he’s joking, or being smart. But Chris isn’t my focus here, it’s Eddie’s reaction. We do know kids absorb what their parents feel and say, right? Eddie laughs, so he must think alike. He looks almost drunk — all flushed cheeks, big smile, squinted eyes.

“My last two couches came with girlfriends” and the IMMEDIATE correction Eddie makes. We know Buck is at his most comfortable with the Diaz boys, so we know he’s not putting on a show. What he says – he means. Of the heart speaks the mouth. That’s how he feels about his past relationships, not the correction Eddie makes. (And if you may let me be annoying here, it’s kinda interesting, the correction. It sounds almost – hopeful. Eddie knows it’s supposed to be the way he corrects him to be, but in a way, he corrects him just to guarantee himself that that’s not what Buck meant ((and it’s not.)).

The way that Buck stops, stares and then plunges down on the chair. ‘Right,’ he thinks, ‘the girlfriends came with couches.’ Again, NOT his initial thought. He hides behind a grin.

Eddie is not careful mentioning Taylor. Buck isn’t heartbroken. He even mentions her in Chris’ presence, and we know by history they’ve always been careful. (If you ask me, that’s the reason they didn’t hook up after the ‘you wanna go for the title?’ scene).

“Maybe I don’t wanna pick the wrong couch again.” Please stay here for a second. In all objectivity we’re talking about furniture…, right? This is a three-street conversation, because Chris added himself to it, yet Buck won’t look at him. He looks at Eddie, very intently. As if… as if he’s saying something different with his words. Huh, whatever could he mean? (Faint whispers of: ‘your couch, you, I wanna pick you, I wanna pick you, pick me, too.’) And then Eddie, who is Oblivious Firefighter of the Year (awarded) brings the conversation down again to the actual topic, and Buck deflates, like his balloon has been popped. His eyes literally stop glimmering.

So, is this a conversation two best friends who are comfortable in that title would have?

#yall tell me #if I’m off I’m off #but I don’t think I’m off #buddie #911 fox #911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 tv show #evan buck buckley #buck x eddie #buck and eddie #911 abc #911 on abc #911 buddie #buddie 911

423 notes · View notes

valeskafics · 4 months

Text

"The Losers Club" - Billy Washington x Reader x Michael Gavey

a/n: dedicating this to @officerbrowneyes and @helaelaemond who i regularly scream at in dm's because of these two assholes 🩷

Summary: A night out with two of your best friends turns into something else when you take pity on them and give them a taste of what they've always wanted.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, sexual harassment (not by any of the main characters), unprotected sex, double penetration, p in v sex, anal sex, fingering, oral m receiving, oral f receiving, handjob, tiddy succin, if i missed anything lmk, men whimpering 🩷

Word Count: 2,575 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Trigger Point or Saltburn characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

You think you might just go insane if you have to listen to another moment of Billy and Michael bitching to each other about how girls only go for assholes. Michael drones on and on about the plethora of “vapid cunts” at Oxford while Billy only has his ex, Becky, to complain about. You stare at both of them, nonplussed, as you sip at your nearly untouched glass of wine. Though part of you wishes you were less responsible so you could’ve been drunk for this conversation.

“You know, you could always just approach girls like a normal person,” you drawl, interrupting Michael before he can go off on a tangent about some poor agoraphobic girl at his uni. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the reason she remains inside, prick that he is, “You two just sit there, whining to each other about how girls never notice guys like you when the fact of the matter is, you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourselves to actually try dating.”

The two blink at you owlishly for a long moment before Michael blurts out, “And you’re one of those high and mighty prissy girls who thinks she’s too good for anyone!”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake, why do I even bother with you two? You know, if I was a nicer person, I might have pity fucked the pair of you just to shut you up, but alas, I’m not. So you can continue sitting there, whining like a couple of impotent jerks, while I go and try to mingle.”

Billy watches you as you walk toward the bar, chatting up the handsome bartender, that gorgeous smile on your face that always has him feeling a bit hot under the collar, only snapping out of his trance when Michael declares that he’s going to take a slash and that Billy should order him another drink. Billy cringes at Michael’s words, though both of you are quite used to his abrasive manner of speaking by now. He picks up your purse that you’ve left at the booth the three of you laid claim to, not wanting to risk it getting stolen, as he approaches where you stand at the bar to order Michael’s drink.

It’s then that he hears the absolute bullshit the man beside you is spewing, speaking about you in a foul, objectifying manner while you simply stare blankly ahead, trying to ignore the inebriated fucker.

“Mate, I think you’ve bothered my girlfriend enough,” Billy says, stepping between the two of you.

It’s a tried and true tactic. Though Billy may not be particularly scary looking, guys like this often fuck right off if someone else shows up, claiming to be your boyfriend. You hate living in a society where this is a necessity, but you give your friend a quick smile of thanks. Billy’s quite a bit taller than the man who’s bothering you, but that doesn’t seem to deter him in the least as he continues trying to grab at you, whispering into your ear. You scowl, turning around, ready to give him a piece of your mind when Michael shoves his way between the two of you, an impish little smile on his face as he kisses your cheek, saying that he’s sorry for keeping you both waiting.

You shake your head at him, biting back a laugh as he and Billy stand on either side of you, glaring down your pesky companion until he mumbles, calling you a slag, and storms away, clearly disappointed that he’s going to be going home with no one beside his right hand tonight.

Billy seems to be thinking the same thing as you, considering he calls out, “Try using your left hand tonight for some variety, mate!”

You burst into laughter, looking between the two boys with a grin on your face, “My knights in shining armor to the rescue. How will I ever repay you?” Billy blushes while Michael opens his mouth to say something that’ll no doubt offend you, so you quickly silence him by placing a finger on his lips, smirking to yourself at the way he too is blushing now, “Maybe a kiss?”

Billy is utterly floored, rambling something or the other about how you don’t need to feel obligated, how he was just doing what any good friend would do. You’re not an idiot, it’s no secret that Michael and Billy are both pathetically attracted to you, hell, maybe even in love with you. You’re not a person who’ll put on false airs of modesty and act like you don’t know what they see in you. You’re sexy, you’re confident, and you’re their friend. That’s more than enough to have them hooked.

While Billy shies away, Michael shows no such qualms, turning his cheek, waiting for his kiss expectantly. But you, cheeky minx that you are, decide to give him more than he expected, taking his face in your hands and turning him to face you before pressing your lips to his own. You feel so soft and warm against him, your lips moving so very sensually that he feels like he might explode from wanting you so badly, especially when your fingertips move down to trace his jaw, then his throat. And when you break away, all he can do is stare as you pull Billy into a kiss next, this one a bit more intense than yours with Michael’s. Your hands move to tug at Billy’s hair, nails scratching at his scalp in a way that has him moaning pathetically, hands grabbing at your hips to hold you against him.

When you finally pull away, both boys can do nothing but stare at you in wonder, Michael being the one to finally break the silence as he questions, “What was that all about then?”

You give him a cheeky smile, tapping his nose with the tip of your finger, “For a smart boy, you’re a bit oblivious. Look, I know both of you want me. I know you have for a long time. So, tonight, I’m going to let you have just what it is you’ve been pining after for so long.”

Billy and Michael look at each other, eyes wide with surprise. This isn’t actually happening, is it? It’s not possible. You, their childhood friend who is so entirely out of their league, are willing to give them a taste? They have to be dreaming. And yet, you just give them a little smirk of yours, gesturing for them to follow you out of the pub and to the car park.

It takes everything in Billy and Michael not to fucking jump you the moment they get into your flat. You take off your jacket, hanging it on your sofa before glancing back at them over your shoulder. It’s one of those lazy little grins, so casual and yet so very enticing, that it almost drives them insane as they trail after you toward your bedroom.

“If you were a cartoon, your tongue would be wagging,” Michael snarks at Billy as he tries to shove past him.

Billy scowls, “Yeah? Fuck off, Michael, it’s not like you’re any better.”

“Boys,” you call out from your room, your voice a low, soft purr, so tantalizing to their ears, “There’s enough of me to share, just get in here.”

That’s enough to make them drop their argument and shove their way into your room, each trying to be the first one in. However, as they try to get in, they end up tripping and falling to the floor in a heap, glowering at each other, ready to bicker again, only to be interrupted by you clearing your throat.

There you are, laying on your bed, head propped up on your hand, your gorgeous body on display for them, covered only by a lacy black bra and thong. You giggle at the way their jaws drop and beckon them toward you with a curved finger. The three of you sit at the foot of your bed, Billy to your left and Michael to your right. You turn to Billy, pulling him into a searing kiss as you palm at Michael’s hard-on, reveling in the moans of your name he lets out, loud and unabashed in his desire for you. Afterward, you switch, palming at Billy while you kiss Michael, loving the way he groans your name, teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he bucks up against your hand pathetically.

And when you pull back, you feel like the most powerful, beautiful woman alive when both boys begin kissing at your neck desperately, Billy’s large palm splaying over your thigh while Michael’s hand rests on your lower back. They each nip at your neck, wanting to leave their mark, the soft noises of pleasure you make urging them on as the three of you fall back onto the bed. You pull back and demand that they both get rid of their clothes, watching with amusement as they scramble to their feet, nearly falling over in their haste as their shirts, jeans, and boxers come off in a flurry of movement. You lay on your stomach, gazing at them and trying not to laugh, legs crossed at the ankle, looking every bit the temptress they know you to be.

You sit up on your knees, feeling quite vindicated by the fact that both Billy and Michael are already hard for you, biting your lip as you glance between them before taking Billy into your mouth, placing your soft hand on Michael’s cock, tugging at it gently as you nod up at Billy, urging him to fuck your mouth. He seems unsure at first, hesitant, but soon, Billy begins rocking his hips against you, panting at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around his cock, your tongue moving along him, the sloppy, wet noises falling from your lips. Michael can feel himself getting close to his end pathetically quickly, trying not to cum too fast, trying to recite pi from memory in his head, though your soft hand and the sight of your lips wrapped around Billy’s cock are too much to handle. You move faster and faster, your thumb moving along the thick vein running along the underside of his length, the feeling make him stutter out an “Oh my fucking God” as he spills himself against your hand. You take Billy all the way into your throat, eyes tearing up slightly as you gaze up at him and moan around him, the sensation of which sends him over the edge as well.

You glance between the two before laying back, parting your legs, “While we wait for you to get ready for the main event, I think you two should get me nice and ready.”

Oh my God.

Michael shoves past Billy, moving to sit on his haunches between your thighs and begins desperately mouthing at your cunt over the fabric of your thong. You smirk down at him, running a hand through his hair, cooing words of encouragement, every “good boy” spurring him on as he moves your underwear to the side, suckling at your clit greedily, completely intoxicated by the taste of you. Billy stands there awkwardly for a moment, only for you to grab him by the hand to lay down beside you. You kiss him softly, taking his large hand, bringing it to your pussy, urging him to use those long fingers of his on you. While Michael suckles at your pearl, Billy’s fingers begin pumping in and out of you. You squeeze around him so fucking tight, your pussy feeling like heaven to him as he continues moving faster and faster. Michael gropes at the flesh of your ass, holding your thighs apart, allowing him and Billy to continue pleasuring you, moaning at the feeling of you bucking your hips up against him.

“Such good boys for me,” you murmur as Billy undoes your bra, taking one of your tits into his mouth, his stubble tickling your sensitive skin, “Fuck, so good for me.”

Michael gazes up at you, holding eye contact as your thighs begin to shake when Billy finds that rough patch deep inside of you, rubbing at it faster and faster until you spill yourself on his fingers. You watch as he brings them to his lips, moaning as he licks them clean.

“Please let me eat you out next time?” Billy begs, “Please?”

You nod, kissing Michael as he crawls back over you, tasting yourself on his tongue. Billy continues mouthing at your breast, both of them rutting their hips against you as they work their way back to being fully hard, wanting nothing more than to take you.

“Billy, lay on your side behind me,” you order while turning to Michael, “And you in front of me, Michael.”

“Do you need-”

You cut Billy off quickly, I have an IUD… Just use your fingers first and get me ready, yeah?”

He nods eagerly, pushing two fingers inside your puckered hole, past the tight ring of muscles, stretching you to prepare you for his cock, curving his fingers slightly, loving the way you squeeze around him. Michael, meanwhile, runs his cock along your center, breath coming quick and shallow before he finally begins pushing his cock inside you, whining at how fucking wet and tight you are as he pushes in, inch by inch, sheathing himself in you fully. He stretches you out so perfectly, you can’t help but mewl his name. You feel Billy remove his fingers, the head of his cock pressing against you as he slowly pushes inside you. The feeling of being stretched open by both of them, filled by both of them at once, is almost too much, but when they begin moving, one thrusting after the other, all you can do is moan, pressed between the two boys who you care about so much.

As you squeeze around them, you hear both of them letting out the sweetest little whimpers, gasps of surprises, as the three of you bask in your shared pleasure. You can feel your entire body going taught as Billy holds your hips in place, bucking his own against you gently, enough to give you pleasure but careful not to hurt you, while Michael’s rutting it more desperate, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face as he whines your name. You move your fingers to circle your clit, feeling closer and closer to the edge. Michael reaches his peak before you, spilling himself inside of you, eyes going wide, rolling back as he lays back on the bed, giving you a cocky little smile. You smile back at him, watching as he replaces your hand with his own, fingers circling your clit as you reach your peak, crying out Billy’s name, then his as you do, Billy spilling himself soon after with a low moan of your name.

The implications for your friendship remain uncertain, but what is certain is this. You’ve never felt more loved or cared for than you do laying between these two, each snuggled up at your side as they murmur how amazing that was, how much they adore you.

“You’re in the Losers Club now,” Billy teases affectionately.

“I was always in the Losers Club,” you tease him back, kissing his nose gently, then Michael’s cheek, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

821 notes · View notes

dilfprayers · 3 months

Text

21st Birthday.

realdad!leon kennedy x afab!reader based off of an ask i did a few days ago for @misscimi tw; incest topics (dad x daughter), alcohol abuse, dubcon , piss, virginity loss, manipulation + more

word vomit ??? yip yap type of thing that turned into a fic (?) so may be typos MAYBE? i dont know!! also ive been heavily brainrotting abt icky dad leon,..ugh

You were excited to turn 21. Everyone always made it a big deal and told you it'll be amazing being able to finally drink and do many other events that required you to be 21 anyways, which you hated. You went on years planning out what to do but when it finally came to that day, which was today, you sat there quietly in the house spacing out. Hours going by and you mainly sat there on the couch, quiet and alone.

That wasn't until the door crept open, your father suddenly walking in with a few bags. He glanced to the living room with a smirk, approaching you as you laid there. He did however admire you, how tight your shirt was to your upper body n' how those shorts were short enough to get a peek of your panties.

He knew better than to indulge in those thoughts but ever since you had had turned 19, he always had his eyes on you. Wanting you.

"Hey hun, what's got you in the dumps? Shouldn't you be celebrating the special day?"

He sits down carefully beside you, a quiet 'hmph' leaving his throat once he sits down. He leaned back, tilting his head with the bags still in his hands. You looked over at him before loudly sighing, slouching back into the couch.

"I don't know..My friends cancelled on coming over - Mom is always busy...And well you-"

You pause, looking at him. He looked puzzled, tilting his head as he leans in a bit closer to you.

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

He cuts you off halfway, smiling at you before putting the bags down; gently setting his hand down on your bare thigh, rubbing at it in a comforting manner.

"I was able to get off work early anyways, I didn't want my lovely daughter to be on her own for her 21st birthday."

You smile, glancing down at his hand that rubbed along your thigh. He always had a comforting charm, you loved it.

"Well.. I guess. But, I really wanted to go out and get drinks. I always wanted to get the drinking experience. Aside from the whole vomiting and losing your absolute mind— It seems cool. But I sound stupid for that don't I?"

His eyes lightened up when you said that. Almost like a lightbulb clicked in his mind - Surely he wasn't thinking of getting you drunk, taking full advantage of you - Making you do things you don't wanna do. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he pats your thigh and leans back.

"Nah, I get you.. That's why I got you a little surprise."

He pulled some drinks from the bags, glancing at you as he saw the shock on your face. He really thought about you and your 21st birthday — Knowing you wanted to drink? You were beyond happy now. And the thought of your first drink would be with your father.. You were living in the moment.

He figured you were too shocked to speak so he handled the drinks, popping the cap off of one of the bottles then handled it over to you with a warm smile.

"Happy 21st birthday."

Sluggish, you were wobbling in your seat..Shit, how many drinks were there? You don't even remember. You just know you kept blanking out, hearing loud ringing sometimes as you crawled over to Leon, laying across his lap.

"Sweetie, y'okay?.."

You hear his concerned tone but only let out a low, "mmm..." noise, feeling all woozy. You felt like shit in all honesty but for him, it was a good thing. He planned this all along, get you drunk off your ass and he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

"Poor baby.. Here, I got you. Just relax for me.."

He picks you up off his lap and holds you in his arms, walking off to his bedroom before kicking the door shut. He already had an erection, sick fuck had so many possibilities and thoughts in his head.. It was to the point he could feels his cock pressed up against the fabric of his boxers and pants, oozing crazily with precum.

He fucking wanted you. And wanted you now.

Afterall, It was his second part of his birthday gift, you should be happy right?..

You groan quietly as he sets you down to the bed, slowly sitting down beside you soon after as he watches your vulnerable state. Your body aching from whatever was going on in your head and stomach - Eyes halfway shut too. You could hear something being rustled with.. A belt?.. Pants? You didn't really know nor care as you shifted on the bed, comfortable from how the pillows and comforter made you sink into a whole different headspace. You were quiet, only breathing heavily. You wanted nothing more than to just sleep but that'd soon be disrupted. You just didn't know it yet.

Leon, on the other hand, had already had his pants off and his boxers, needily stroking his cock from the mere sight of you.

"Fuck.. You've grown into a lovely woman, you know that?.."

He mutters, as if you could hear him but you didn't. He bites down on his lip, pushing past his limits. He slowly moved himself over you, pulling your shorts down and saw your bright panties. Beautiful pair too.. He groans lowly, brushing his fingers along your crotch but pauses, noticing you shifting around again before staring directly at him.

"Mh-..Wha...H..huh? Dad..What's going on?.."

You mumble, feeling your legs spread open cause of him and felt a pit deep down in your stomach. You thought this was some kind of fucked up dream, not realizing it was real.

"D..daddy?.."

Your voice cracks, seeing him stare directly at you - But him hearing your innocent words through your drunken state made his cock throb. He knew you couldn't comprehend shit that was going on.. All you could assume was this being some kind of bad dream you couldn't wake up from. With him knowing that, it turned him on more.

"Shh, shh... I want to love you and make you feel good tonight. Isn't that what fathers do?"

He murmurs, brushing your panties again until he feels something warm — Or rather, hot. You weren't aware but out of fear and confusion, you felt yourself wetting your panties with the pee you held in for hours ever since you started drinking earlier. His eyes were widened, seeing the liquid damp up your panties and pour down along the sheets, staining it.

But even still, it left him beyond turned on. More than he should've been.

You weren't entirely sure what had happened for a couple minutes but you just know you gained some kind of consciousness the second he pushed his cock deep into you, keeping himself balls deep before he rutted himself in and out of you, brushing his thumb along your throbbing clit. You scratched at him, screamed and all but he knew how to make you slowly accept the fact he was raping you while you were drunk and half asleep. You didn't exactly think your father out to be some kind of rapist or sick fuck, but here he was, not only using you but also using your piss as 'lube'.. And not to mention - blood too. This was your first time. And your first time was from your dad taking advantage of you.

The thought nearly made you hurl but as time went on, you did actually start feeling good. He ensured of that so you could calm down. He never moved his thumb away from your clit, moving it in circular motions as he knew it was becoming raw and more sensitive. He could tell it was fucking with you cause of how much tighter you'd get.

"Feeling good yet? You want daddy to keep fucking you? Show you more about being an adult? Mm...?"

His cock plunged into you, way deeper at this point since you were naturally getting wet from his actions. It didn't help either that you wanted this to originally stop but the influence of alcohol and the pleasure he offered was driving you insane. You couldn't think straight before cause of the drinks but now it was way worse.

"Please... Please..- M..more.."

You whined to him, legs starting to shake from the overstimulation. His gaze down at you was darkened and he knew he enjoyed

"More? You don't even have to ask."

He leans in, his lips catching yours into a tender kiss while he now places his hands along your legs, spreading them out more with his tight grasp before going to town on you. The bed creaked and both of your moans and groans made a symphony within the room.

"Shiiit...G..gonna..Cum..."

He mutters into the kiss, feeling his cock throbbing within you. Your walls squeezed at his cock needily, but as a natural reaction again. Your body knew what it wanted. His cum.

But you couldn't do that.. The risk of him getting you pregnant was high but you weren't even thinking straight, you couldn't pull him off nor tell him. Actually, you didn't even want to.

"Daddy's gonna fuck a baby into me...~"

You babble out, lips still mushed against his as your tongues lock together for a bit till he pulls back, slipping his cock out of you to flip you on your stomach. He spanks your ass, grinning.

"Watch your language, I'm still your father you know."

He teases but knew damn well hearing those words slip out from you made him harder. He fucking loved it. At some point afterwards, he got into a better position before pushing his cock back into you. His cock throbbed some more before he rocked his hips along yours while he was towered over you. Seeing you in such a fucked up state, fighting the two separate sides in your head from what was wrong or right was arousing. Your slightly concerned face, wondering if this was you truly wanted. Or how your pussy clenched around his cock, wanting to milk him dry of his cum. Your body was rejecting your moral thoughts at this point.

The thoughts he had and also seeing you slowly come apart for him became overwhelming, but he enjoyed the hell out of it to the point he pushed himself deeper into you again, as he leans down, grunting in your ear. He finally came inside of you, no verbal warning what-so-ever.

You could feel it too, his warm pumps of cum flooding your insides - Giving you butterflies. He slightly rode out his orgasm before pausing, keeping his cock plunged deep into your sticky and wet, messy pussy.

"That was my birthday gift for you.."

He mutters, gently resting his chest on your back as he gently kisses along your cheek. You were all used up for the night, even more drowsy and at some point you closed your eyes and rested there beneath him while his cock remained inside of you.

Maybe being 21 isn't so bad after all...

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #realdad!leon #dad!leon kennedy #🕍 — detowrites

412 notes · View notes

lunatic-pudge · 5 months

Text

Scout, Pyro, Demo, Medic, Sniper, and Spy Relationship Headcanons

Can you tell which ones are my absolute favorite:')

Scout

• Unsurprisingly, it takes him a long time to get over his infatuation of Ms. Pauling (I'm 110% convinced she's a lesbian), so you must be basically a deity to be catching his attention (though he'd the type to flirt with EVERYONE)

• Golden retriever energy, also youngest child energy. Constantly wants to do everything for you but also needs constant attention. He's also used to be getting picked on by the other mercs and his older brothers so he'll be going to you for validation. But he also doesn't want to appear weak so it'll take some time to break through his (fragile) shell.

• Love language: physical touch and acts of services. Will be constantly trying to act like a macho man for you but will also beg to hold your hand. Cuddles are constant. He may not be good at being a handyman, but my gods he's gonna try his darndest. Plz tell him that he did a good job, he's trying his best.

• He's the best person to go to if you wanna go on randon and unexpected adventures. One minute you're both in Teufort, the next your across country at the beach up east coast. Poor thing gets yelled at a lot for just uping and leaving without notice.

• Local snack dealer. Ma is always making sure that he's got sweets on hand. His room has care packages from her with some of the most wholesome letters from her and the box if FILLED to the brim with sweets, treats, and soda

Pyro

• My little baby boo, a wholesome partner who would kill for you. Can get jealous very easily so you might have to hold them back from committing manslaughter.

• Love language: quality time and gift giving. Time with Pyro is time well spent. Constantly just wants to be in the same room with you. They don't do well when you're not around. Also loves to give gifts. Most of their gifts consit of stuffed animals and handmade drawings. Your room will be filled with gifts from this goofball.

• In my opinion, they're a lot more there than people realize. Some days are better than others though. They were literally CEO of an engeneering company! And I believe they made all their weapons to but I could be wrong on that. Homie is definitely reliable when they're having a good day, but on the bad days, just sit and spend time with them. You don't gotta say anything, just knowing your right there beside them is enough conformation to know you'll always be there no matter what.

• You two are little troublemakers. You'll constantly be up to no good with them. It seems like harmless fun, but you've both almost burnt down the base five times just this month!

Demoman

• Probably one of the best lovers you could have out of all the mercs (aside from Engie, they're competing for the number one spot). I'm deducting points cause of the nonstop alcohol consumpution. :(

• But he is a happy goofy dunk so thank gods for that. Always happy to be here. Very attentive, caring, cuddly, overall a good person to date or even just be friends with.

• Cause the constant alcohol ruined a good portion of his memory (and Medic as well), he writes down every little detail of you that he can in a little journal he secretly keeps on his person. Important dates, likes, dislikes, ect. The man has it on file in case of emergencies.

• Love language: gift giving and act of services. He works three jobs and makes over 5 mil a year, he's LOADED. He's gonna buy you the world if you ask. Definitely good at money managing so he never worried at how much gifts cost. He's also gonna try his darndest to help you out with any problems, though it can be a bit hard when you're constantly drunk. Hims trying his best, okay?

• Wants his mom to approve of you but knows how critical she is of him. Poor baby has some self-esteem issuses cause of her so please give him lots of love and support. It's hard when your mom never has anything nice to say about you and compares you to everyone else. It's a neverending struggle. :(

Medic

• You're definitley into weird and questionable people if you like this man, and that means we're best friends now. :D

• He will ask you to help him out with surgeries and organizing his lab. You're hims little nurse. He'd probably (absolutley) be getting you a nurse outfit with his symbol on it.

• He's very much the possessive type. What's his is HIS, no if, ands, buts, or questions about it. Would put a tracker in you so he knows where you are at all times, but someone would have to talk him out of doing it... for now...

• Constantly talks about you to his birds, if any on them ever have babies, he's naming one after you. Would get you a stuffed dove plushie to cuddle with at night when he can't be there with you

• Love language: physical touch and quality time, you're ALWAYS welcomed in his lab, in fact, he expects you to be there with him. Is the type to ask you to grab something and will graze his hands against yours when grabbing it from you. (then give a shit eating smirk afterwards) He'd also be the type to stand VERY close to you, and stand behind you in an intimidating way to keep others from talking to you.

Sniper

• This man is my all time baby boy so I have LOTS to say about him and how much I love him :')

• Is someone who takes a while to get close to, especially in a romantic way. He's just a shy little boy who's used to being alone. But isn't introverted, just has introverted tendencies (you literally see him hanging out with some of the other mercs in Expiration Date)

• Love language: words of affirmations and physical touch, he sucks at verbally saying how he feels about you but will leave cute little love notes around for you to find. He's also VERY touched-starved so he will just flat out lay on top of you if you let him. Loves hearing you say how much you love him, plz just hold his hands and say how much he means to you, he might just cry from it.

• Is also someone who goes on random adventures, but they're usually just out and away from everyone. But I could see him taking you to a zoo or aquarium to look at the animals. But you're not allowed to go to a Humane Society cause you'll be walking out with all the animals they have and raising them like they're your babies,

Spy

• Another gremlin who takes a long time to warm up to you. He's a grumpy old man who's never really been with someone in such a serious light (aside from Scout's Ma)

• Love language: gift giving and words of affirmation, another merc who would buy you the world if you asked. Will only buy you the best of the best and will throw hands with someone if it's not up to his standards. He could go on about his love for you. His words sound like poetry. You'd wake up with a bouquet of roses and one of the most beautiful love letters anyone has ever read.

• Is 50/50 on PDA, he'll wrap an arm around your waist, call you beautiful, and give you a peck on the cheek in front of others but that's about it. Any extreme PDA is to be in private or you're getting a scolding.

• Would definitely help you learn French. He's way more patient with you than anyone else. You've seen him yell and insult every merc a couple times (Scout getting the brunt of it), but he refuses to ever say anything negative about you

• Definitely the bragging type. He'll put you on a pedestal and go on about how gorgeous you are. How you were crafted by gods, and so on. He thinks he's better than everyone else so if you're with him, than you're right up there with him.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 pyro #tf2 pyro x reader #tf2 demoman #tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 medic #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 sniper #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 spy #tf2 spy x reader

502 notes · View notes

raz-writes-the-thing · 5 months

Text

Passing The Baton (Six of Crows One-Shot)

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: To your knowledge, your crush on Kaz is unrequited. Apparently this is not the case.

CW: Kaz is dumb but we love him

SAB/SOC Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker. Bastard of The Barrel. Also- your unrequited love. Kaz had caught your eye just as he had caught everyone else’s. Everyone knew not to mess with the Dregs, and that was thanks to Kaz. Before he’d risen through the ranks of the club, the Dregs had been no one. Quite literally the dregs of society- and while, yes, that was where the name came from, it was quite the rise to fame as the Dregs started getting more and more popular, and more and more dangerous.

Even the Crow Club was starting to become a real pain in the other clubs’ asses.

But Kaz? He’d fascinated you well before any of this. You’d been working at the Crow Club as a serving girl since before Kaz arrived. Not long, mind, but long enough before that you got to experience both sides of the Dregs’ fortune.

Kaz hadn’t seemed to take much notice of you at first- and why would he? Weren’t you just another serving girl being groped by the drunk patrons? Anything to make a few Kruge. But he did take notice when you threatened to cut the balls off a patron when said patron got a little too handsy one day.

He’d taken you back into his office and thwacked his cane on the table hard enough to scratch the varnish and told you rather harshly to never do that again. To come to him next time there was an issue like that and he’d deal with it… discretely.

What that had meant was clear only to Kaz, and that was fine by you. But that was when your little crush had really taken off. What could you say? You liked a bad boy. Someone who could handle his own and Kaz could definitely handle his own. Cane or no.

Despite telling you off, Kaz had clearly taken note that you weren’t afraid to get your hands a little dirty either, something he had an appreciation and mutual respect for. And so you went from lowly serving girl to, well, still a serving girl, but a serving girl who also took jobs for Dirtyhands and worked with him to secure patronage for the club, and Kruge for his and your own pockets. And for Per Haskell’s pockets as well, you supposed. Lazy bastard.

But you longed for more.

You longed for Kaz’s touch, for his lips on your skin. You longed for his affections as much as you longed for his approval. It was a dangerous combination.

As far as you could tell, he did not feel the same way. But then again, would you have ever known otherwise? Kaz kept his cards close to his chest- as he should.

Today seemed different though. You’d barely made it back from a job and Kaz seemed… angry, to put it lightly. You had no idea why, though, considering you got what he wanted, and made it out alive, too. Win-win.

Inej may have had to save you, but that was beside the point.

“You need to be careful,” he said, mouth pursed angrily. “You can’t be making reckless choices and silly mistakes. This is The Barrel. I can’t afford mistakes.”

You met his harsh gaze head-on and shoved the ledger he’d asked for into his chest with vigour. Kaz didn’t even break the gaze between you, just reached with one gloved hand to take the ledger off you.

“I got what you wanted, didn’t I?”

A muscle in Kaz’s jaw twinged.

“That is not the point.”

You let out an exasperated scoff, removing your hand from his chest with another soft shove. Surprisingly, Kaz lets the action move him.

“Then what is the point?” You ask, frustration evident in your features.

“The point is- oh, for Saints’ sake,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We could have lost you. I could have lost you.”

Your eyebrows practically disappeared into your hairline.

“You could have lost me…” you trail off, echoing his words, feeling them out for hidden meanings.

“You’re a good investment. I don’t like to lose investments.”

Oh. Okay. An investment. You should have known that that was all you were to him. That’s all you were ever going to be to Kaz no matter how much you wished differently. Ridiculous.

“Of course,” you reply, turning to walk away. “Your investment needs a dri-hey!”

Kaz’s gloved hand snatches at your forearm and yanks you back towards him. You re-balance yourself and glare at him, looking between the tight grip he has on your arm and his heated glare.

“Stop,” he says before forcing his features to soften. “I’m not one for feelings.” He practically shudders through the word. “You’re more than that. An investment, I mean.”

You stay quiet, not giving him anything to work with here, but you’re surprised he can’t hear the uptick in your heartbeat.

“Look,” his grip loosens. “I don’t want to lose you. Purely selfish reasons. Not because you’re an investment, but-” Kaz clears his throat and avoids eye contact. “I care for your wellbeing.”

It’s not an outright declaration of love, but it’s about as close to it as someone like Kaz would give. He’d bared his soul to you here. All the fractured, broken pieces of it. He’d bared his heart for you to treasure or smash into bitty little pieces.

You sucked in a breath.

“Are you saying you have feelings for me?”

Kaz grunts and lets go of your arm. You brush your fingers over where he’d just touched you.

“I suppose so, yes,” he said, eyes flitting to the door like he was thinking about making a run for it.

“Don’t suppose it would interest you to know I felt the same way, would it?”

And there it was. Passing the baton back to Kaz. Passing your heart in return for his. Now it was he who held the power to treasure or smash you into pieces.

Kaz finally met your gaze, and his lips ticked up into a small smirk.

“Oh, I knew that.”

664 notes · View notes

merakiui · 5 months

Text

crow & goat in courtship.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, coercion, religious symbolism/imagery, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, obsession, alcohol/intoxication, slight codependency, non-consensual touching/groping, au in which you attend classes at nbc instead of nrc under rollo's supervision note - the crow is always on call.

i. “but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (james 1:14-15).

Rollo answers on the third ring.

He always does—claims it’s polite to answer after three chimes just as it’s right to knock thrice before entering a residence. He’s stubborn in his ways, a crow bound by routine, only ever doing things in threes. Habitual to a fault, strictly so. You are similar in that regard; you find solace in the familiarity of predictable patterns. The relief that stems from knowing what will come next—in being prepared for all manner of events even if you haven’t yet reached the first.

But then you also like fun, and the best sort of fun is often had with a disregard for habit. Disorder and spontaneity. Throwing all caution to the wind. Trusting in the arms of the crow who will catch you, the carefree goat, when you fall.

“Good evening,” he mutters into the phone, his voice sounding so close despite the distance between you and him. “It’s rather late. Is there a specific reason you’re calling?”

“Rollo! Hey! Hiii,” you drawl, grinning like a fool. You stagger through the door into the chilly, starless night, your heels slipping on cracked, frozen pavement. “Whoa!” You stumble against the railing with a carefree giggle. “Almost lost my footing!”

There’s a stalling silence on his end. And then, with a deep inhale, he asks evenly, “Have you gone out?”

“Mm. Yeah. Went out to celebrate with some friends.”

“Some friends?”

“Like one or two…or a whole house full of ’em.”

“(Name).”

“What?” When he doesn’t reply, you laugh. Not because it’s humorous or embarrassing, but to merely fill the silent gap. “What? Roro, you’re sho stern. Don’t lecture me!”

“So you’ve been drinking.”

“What?! No!” With an offended scoff, you shake your head even though he’s not here to witness it. “You know NBC’s no-booze rule. I’m not gonna get caught—won’t get caught.”

“You slurred your speech and called me ‘Roro’—both in the same sentence, mind you.”

“So what? Rollo, Roro. Tomato, potato.”

“It’s to-may-to, to-mah-to. And—” he exhales an exhausted breath— “Never mind. That’s besides the point. Why, pray tell, have you called me at midnight?”

“Why’re you up at midnight?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Not fair! I asked first!”

“Not quite.” There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks next. “If I were to visit your room right now—knock on the door and wait there—would you let me in?”

“Yeaaah,” you start to say, only to catch yourself halfway in the trap. “No!”

“No?”

“No…thank you. No visitors tonight. S’late and I gotta study for tomorrow’s exam.”

“And a party will somehow aid in that endeavor? (Name), you do realize you’ve spun one too many lies and now you’re woefully entangled.”

“Less poetry and more picking me up.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

“Rollo, please be nice,” you whine, your lips twisting into a pout. “S’cold and I didn’t bring a jacket and I’m kinda-maybe-sorta a little…”

“A little…?” he encourages, and you can just envision that self-satisfied smirk of his.

“A little-drunk-but-also-not-really-drunk-but-also-totally-drunk,” you hastily admit in a string of syllables. Snowfall swirls around you, and you grasp the bannister to prevent yourself from falling over. “Oh, it’s snowing.”

“I can see perfectly clear from my window. Beautiful, is it not?”

“So stop being an obtuse dick and come get me before I freeze!”

“Should that come to pass, you may just rival the Righteous Judge at the entrance. I’ll be sure to polish you every month.”

“I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna poison your coffee and watch you drink it, and then we’ll see who’s stiffer than a statue. It’ll be you—in death, y’know!”

“Will you now?”

“If you don’t pick me up, yeah!”

There’s the distinct sound of shuffling. You hear crisp pages turning and then a book closing before the rustling of fabrics invades your keen ears. You picture your responsible friend pacing around his room as he dresses himself for the weather.

“Very well,” he says after a moment, ever the composed gentleman. “Send me the address.”

“You’re the best. Love you lots. Thank you! Thank you!” You press your lips together to mimic obnoxious kissing sounds, which elicits a huff of amusement from him. “It’s not a far walk. Promise.”

“Stay on the phone with me. I’ll be there shortly. And don’t go anywhere.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You do realize sneaking out is against the rules, yes?”

“Aaand here comes the lecture. Gimme a break. Can’t a girl celebrate her birthday in peace?”

You drag your hand over your mouth and wipe sticky wine residue away. In the process, you smear black lipstick. Dark like night, like a crow’s inky feathers, it leaves your once-flawless appearance in disarray.

“There are much better ways to celebrate. Did I not say I’d take you into town this weekend and we could celebrate then?”

“That’s so far from now.”

“It’s three days away, (Name).”

“Still too far.”

“Don’t expect me to provide cover if you get caught.”

“And you can just leave campus whenever you please?”

“This is different.”

“Yeah?” You giggle into the speaker, warm and fuzzy and endlessly entertained. It’s enough of a distraction to keep winter from seeping into your marrow. “How so?”

“This is official Student Council business.”

“Really?” you ask with an impressed whistle.

“Indeed. On account of my being President, it’s only natural I punish students who conduct themselves poorly. Shall we review your list of infractions and decide on a suitable penalty together?”

“I’d rather we not.”

“Oh, but I insist. Perhaps our discussion and the cold will sober you and teach you a valuable lesson about integrity.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you lower onto the step to await his arrival. The icy stone digs harshly into your rear, which is hardly covered by your too-short dress. It’s definitely not fingertip length or weather-appropriate. You shiver and stuff your hand into the pocket of your cropped sweater. You should take shelter inside, where it’s plenty cozy and inviting, but your inflated pride disagrees. Retreating to the warmth after you’ve already bid farewell would be foolish. At least, that’s what the alcohol in your system is telling you.

So the goat endures the cold, for it knows that that is all that awaits it as the crow closes in.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an academic criminal. Get on with it, President Flamme.”

“Let’s see. You’ve disobeyed campus curfew, snuck out on a school night, attended a party when your grades could use improvement, neglected your studies, drank carelessly, called the one person who can and will punish you for this and the aforementioned…”

The sound of crunching snow pierces the air then, and you look up in time to see Rollo approaching. He’s dressed in a long woolen overcoat with a scarf twined around his throat and a hat pulled down over his ears. He smirks at you from where he stands on the pavement, cutting the call and sliding his phone into his pocket. Tilting his head at you, he pulls another coat from under his arm and offers it to you.

“And you’re dressed for your death.”

“Okay, that one’s personal.”

Rolling your eyes, you rise on unsteady legs. He meets you at the stairs, climbing two of them to help you into the coat. It’s an embrace more welcoming than that of a lover’s, so soft and comfortable that it immediately rejuvenates your weary skeleton. It smells like Rollo, too—like coffee and weathered pages in an old book. You hum your approval, snuggling into the fluffy fabric. He’s plopping his hat on your head next, tugging it so far down that you almost slip on the slick stoop. Like he always has, ever since he first met you, he catches you.

“Hello to you, too.”

You blink back at him. “Yeah, thanks. I owe you.”

“Let me see your hands.”

He takes them in his, runs his thumbs over the tops, and then procures mittens from his pockets. You watch him slide both over your hands, rubbing them together briefly to generate heat at a faster rate. Your body sways, gaze unfocused. He’s just about to unwind his scarf from his shoulders when you reach out to stop him.

“I’m good. This is enough.”

“You’ll catch your death—”

“And you won’t in just a coat and scarf? At least let me give you your hat back.”

He shakes his head, holding his hand up in objection. “You’ve been out in this weather longer. It’s only fair. But, really, did you have to wait out here? Couldn’t you have gone inside?”

“My pride’s on the line.”

Rollo’s unamused stare cuts through you. “You won’t have much pride left if you’re encased in ice.”

“Then we’d best get moving. Campus awaits!”

You wrap your arm around him, clinging out of instinct. Rollo peers at the proximity, his lips upturned in a covert half-smile, and his arm snakes slowly around your waist in return. You don’t notice this, for you’re too busy dragging your feet through the snow while he acts as a helpful crutch, stable in a way you just aren’t. Not right now, at least.

But then the goat is never stable enough to survive the inevitable—the swift, sacrificial blade that befalls and beheads, leaving gory spatters to run red and visceral in the wake of the end.

You’ve never known, and you never will. How could you when he’s been nothing but cordial? A clean slate. Admirable guidance. A helpful friend. Your only friend.

The crow descends in three knocks. He lets himself in regardless of whether you wish to have him as a guest. He is unwanted and feared, the very foundation of death and destruction, and he has set his beady eyes on you—the goat.

It’s common knowledge that you cannot pray away the crow. He persists, as always, quiet even when his wings beat against his sleek, feathered body like the loudest war drums. And the caw—the dreadful caw! It’s a most disturbing cry, one that pierces through the dark like jarring slivers of light in shadow. Or a butcher’s blade through flesh, sawing through sinew to get to brilliant bone beneath. The hoarse call of Death’s crows—they circle in a murder, swooping down to meet you as harbingers of malevolence.

Rollo has always strived to lead a virtuous existence defined by a rigidly righteous moral compass. In the gloomy pits of misery and hatred, where he festers in a bundle of tar-colored feathers, he does not hope for sunshine. He no longer knows the uplifting ebullience of life’s greatest miracles. Because there is no miracle in death or tragedy. Because there is no happiness to be found in a doomed hand, every card showcasing Death and its many forms. Not for him. Never for him.

But then, amidst the despair and despondency, each all-consuming, a goat fell into his lap.

A divine offering to the crow, who is so far from divinity himself, can only mean one thing. It is neither conciliatory nor a reward.

It is a sacrifice.

But then the City of Flowers adores its goats—reveres them for all that they are. Goats are cherished, not sacrificed. But to drag a nameless, magicless goat from the grounds of its far-off, inconceivable pasture—is that not the cruelest form of sacrifice? To drop this goat into the equitable embrace of the crow—is that not the sweetest gift? Generous yet unfair. Plucked right from the folds of another heaven.

The mortal coil can be callous, which is precisely why the crow is permitted to exist in impartiality. Death does not care for who you were in life and who you will be in the next, and the crow only ever oversees finales. Never beginnings. Much like a deity does not care for what good you can do if you do not first adore them in copious adequacy.

The crow carries with him a most fearsome knell—the chime of judgment, to be delivered right on time like an execution staged for noon.

All throughout life, you can plan for the crow and all that he shall deliver, and still you will never be fully prepared to greet him. He brings misfortune bundled in baskets woven from the bones of sacrifices past. In holy scripture, it is the goat who is punished most often—who is slaughtered at the altar, who is arranged as peace to quell the torrential fury of the deity, who is made to suffer at the hands of those hoping to avoid damnation or godly wrath, who is meant to shoulder the blame when no one else wants to. Favors have been bought with the blood of the goat, its head nestled amidst verdant grasses, pure forevermore even when it is dyed carmine. It appeases and pleases.

So it’s just—religiously so—that the crow takes the goat for himself, strips it bare, and proves to the prying eyes in heaven that the greatest sin is more than lustful temptation.

For the crow—for Rollo—the heaviest sin, a vile, cursed burden from his very first breath—it is existence itself.

And only the blood of a pure goat can wash away such filth—can cleanse what has been rotting within. The goat can make a garden out of the crow—bring life and love to its barren insides regardless of however fleeting its presence may be. It is within this garden—within the softest, fertile soil—where the crow shall sow the most special seeds.

You cross the bridge with Rollo, your laughter filling the cloudy sky as you recall all manner of amusing stories from the past few hours. Drinking games paired with drunken gossip. Delicious wines and snacks. A party with an energy so lively it could rival the city’s annual festivals. Even though he doesn’t seem outwardly pleased to hear any of it, he listens well and occasionally stops to steady you before you can topple over the railing into the water below. Your heels clack against smooth, frosted stone, and the wind whips at your face, each snowflake biting and vicious. Noble Bell’s vast campus waits just beyond the wrought iron gate, standing proud and backdropped by the night.

“You think anyone’s up?” you ask, curling your fingers into his arm as he guides you through.

Rollo eases the gate shut. “They might if they hear you. It would be best to keep quiet.”

You pantomime zipping your lips and discarding a nonexistent key. He quirks a small smile at that and then hurries you along. Nights are always peaceful at Noble Bell. The halls are desolate and quiet, devoid of all signs of student life. Your and Rollo’s shoes click in unison as you walk through the hall and past the courtyard. You gaze at the arched openings, counting each one as they become fainter with the growing distance.

Your breath materializes in front of you when you sigh. “I’m so sleepy. I wanna go to bed for a thousand years.”

“You’ll miss your exam if you do that,” he chides, tutting. “And every other exam that will follow.”

“That’s the point!” Your voice bounces off the walls, returning to you in a reverberating echo. Cringing under Rollo’s disapproving glower, you speak softer. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Just how much have you had to drink? You can hardly walk straight without leaning on me for support.” He narrows his eyes, his lecherous gaze crawling down to your bare legs. “Not that I mind…”

His words don’t reach you, for they’re swallowed in a howling gale as it sweeps across the courtyard. You spy the dormitories then, each one looking more like gingerbread covered in confectioners’ sugar instead of buildings dusted with snow. Your eyelids droop while you cross the distance to reach your designated building, your every movement feeling slower than molten molasses, and by the time you’re actually inside the dorm—Rollo’s shushed you more than once—you’re yearning for the warmth of your bed.

So it’s bewildering when, rather than your own room, you stop at Rollo’s instead.

He opens the door and steps inside with you in tow. You keep your mouth shut, too tipsy to think coherently. After he clicks the lamp on, which leaves the room awash in soft shades of amber, he shrugs his coat off, draping it over a nearby chair. You drag yourself over to his bed and flop down, squeezing your eyes shut to block out both the light and your spinning surroundings. Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you hear him shuffling about his room, crossing to close and lock the door before walking back towards you. The mattress dips under his weight, and you feel nimble fingers working to undo the buttons on your coat.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask, cracking your eyes open just as he’s pulling the coat from your person.

Rollo folds it neatly and sets it aside. “You’re practically melting into my bed already. It would be quite the undertaking to make the walk back to your room at this hour.”

“So considerate,” you tease, grinning up at him. Sleep stretches your expression into something dazed, and you yawn loudly. “Then I’m gonna sleep here. Wake me up before class.”

You almost drift off, but those frigid fingers are moving to tug you out of your sweater next. They crawl across your bare shoulders like a spider on a web.

“You really are something,” he marvels, glancing at your body sprawled beneath him. “To brave the cold in such thin material…”

“Stupid choice. I know.”

“It appears we’re in agreement.”

“Shut up,” you snap back with a weak laugh. “You’re no better, showing up so cozy and then giving everything to me.”

Rollo memorizes the way the form-fitting dress hugs your figure. He inhales a shaky breath and brings his hands back to his sides. Your chest is right here. So close. So frustratingly close.

He can’t indulge. He really shouldn’t. It’s unbecoming to show such unfair favorability when he’s meant to remain impartial. Death should not lust for the beauty of life because it only knows endings—or the beginnings of ghostly eternity. The crow should not allow himself to be swept up in tumultuous temptation.

And the goat is the only friend he’s known—the only one who understands the crow, if only by a few meager slivers. But someday the goat will know.

Rollo swallows his inhibitions, beating his urges away with a stick. He’s not one for rash decisions; he’s meticulous and thoughtful. He would never take such a risk—would never nosedive into a crude confession. He’s plotted it in his diary, but it’s never come to fruition. He restrains himself because he must. Because it’s the polite and proper thing to do when caught up in courtship. Because if he opens his torso and allows you to poke around inside, you’ll find that he is not the friend you’ve known for all these months.

He is a fiend, devilishly so, wearing the hide of a goat to put the real one at ease.

Warring with rationality, he slides away from you and intends to recover at his desk. He’ll scrawl all of the things he wishes to do to you in there and that will be enough. That will help clear his head of the intoxicating fog that settles whenever he’s with you in private. But then he’s reaching to untie the canopy draped over his bed, each corner undone within seconds. The sheer curtains fall in thin layers, confining the both of you to this island in the middle of a barren sea. It’s darker in here, dimly lit by the faint glow of the lamp outside.

You blink up at him, owlish.

“You…” He stops himself, shakes his head, and turns away. Hastily, he fishes his handkerchief from his pocket. With this enclosed propinquity, he can smell your perfume. It’s spiced and flowery—alluring and adorable all at once—and it assaults both his nose and mind. “You should sleep. It’s late.”

This is for the best. The crow is only meant to look after the goat, remain unaffected even in the face of lustful, fateful sacrifice.

But you’re here. You’re splayed like a spill, perfectly imperfect, and your shoulders are a canvas coveting kisses. He clutches his handkerchief in a white-knuckled fist.

“Mm, okay. Night…”

“Yes… Yes, good night,” he mumbles, lowering his handkerchief. He swallows thickly.

This is for the best.

But even though he thinks this, his arm is stretching out. Closer. Closer. So close, until his hand is hovering just above your chest. He’s so close.

When will he ever have another chance as fortuitous as this?

His hand closes around your breast and he squeezes it experimentally. It’s soft when his fingers dig in gently, depressing with the pressure of his digits. Rollo’s green hues flick to your face. Your eyes are shut, and soft snores slip from your parted lips. He glimpses your chest again and, with the utmost care, slides your dress down to free your breasts. They’re mostly bare, save for the heart-shaped pasties covering your nipples. Rollo heaves a disbelieving sigh.

“Promiscuous,” he mutters, plucking the edge of the first adhesive and peeling it away to reveal the perky nipple beneath. You look so soft, so clean, so pure… What was he even worried about? No one’s had you before. He’s sure of it.

He’s about to remove the other heart when your voice freezes him.

“What…are you doing?”

He holds your gaze. It’s tense for a moment, unspoken accusations brewing between the both of you.

“A massage,” he blurts, but there isn’t a hint of haste in his tone. He suspected this outcome when he chose to traverse the line of right and wrong—and ultimately sided with the former. Because to him it’s right, even if it’s wrong. He knows what will soon follow: disgust and detestation.

Instead, you giggle. It’s sleepy and silly-sounding, but it’s also light and lively.

You catch his hand in yours and drag it back to your chest. “If you wanted to touch, just ask,” you murmur, your words slurring. “Nothin’ wrong with it.”

You’re not just perfect and pure. You’re everything.

Yes, it’s the alcohol blurring your brain and the intimacy of being trapped in a quiet, comfortable space such as this one that allows you to desire him. Would it be the same if you were sober? He can’t quite say, but he doesn’t wish to know. This is enough. This is paradise.

He kneads slow, steady motions into your breast, and you watch from where you’re lying on the bed. His other hand slithers between your legs to search for your clothed clit. Your breath hitches just as his fingers brush it, and he presses in, rubbing with his index. Your arm falls over your face, and your chest rises with every breath.

“How does it feel?” he asks, rolling your nipple between chilly digits.

“Not enough,” you bemoan, curling your fingers into a fist. “S’not enough…”

“How fascinating. I suppose cheap wine truly does turn you into a pute.”

“No… Was definitely expensive. The fancy kind.”

“Was it now?” He circles your clit, predatory and shark-like, his eyes alight with glee. “You say that, but look at the state it’s left you in. Utterly disheveled.”

“That’s because of—” you gasp, your voice rising in pitch— “because of you…”

His heart hammers in his chest, a resounding, pounding melody.

The City of Flowers treasures its goats, and the crow loves his fiercely even though he shouldn’t.

“Did you enjoy drinking yourself foolish and indulging in debauchery?” His fingers dance along your inner thigh, hooking around the hem of your underwear. “Was it a fun celebration?”

You lower your arm to glare halfheartedly at him. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“More so disappointed, mon chou chou,” he coos, sugary, sickeningly sweet. “Someone could have taken advantage of you. Someone could have tainted you with magic.” His lip curls up into a nasty sneer. It lingers for a moment before fading into something calm. He gazes at you, oddly tender. “That didn’t happen, though, yes?”

You shake your head and flinch when he drags your panties down. Dewy strings of your slick come away with it, and you shudder at your newfound nudity. He hums approvingly and drags his finger through the wet patch staining your panties. Driven by libertine compulsion, he stretches viscous strands of your essence between two fingers.

Your eyes find his deceitful greens once more. Silence sparks between the both of you, quickly broken by your exhalation. Rollo kneels before you, taking in the sight of you as your face wavers through the stages of consideration. Upon arriving at your conclusion, you sit up slightly and shuck your dress over your head. And then you’re lying back, shaking your panties from off your ankle, and wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him in closer.

You grin, coquettish. “Why not search for yourself if you’re so worried, Mr. Student Council President?”

There’s no turning back. Not that he ever would. Not when the goat’s given him the signal. The blade doesn’t fall, but he does.

And this is better than dreams and erotica. This is real.

He surges forward to fit his lips against yours. Sloppy and inexperienced, he molds himself to your body. You tug him against you, your hands working to undress him. Clothes and shoes are cast aside between open-mouthed kisses, torn off half-buttoned and ripped away from soles. You breathe him in, gasping into his mouth. Translucent strings of saliva connect your mouths when you part, soon broken when you lean in for a chaste peck.

“You’re okay,” he says, the words practically bleeding onto your own tongue with how close he is. “Still as pure as the day I first met you.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“The best thing.”

His third and fourth fingers prod at the depths of your pussy, pressing inwards. Shallow at first. He watches your face unblinkingly, burning every pleasured contortion into his brain, and slides his thumb along your clit. Your breathing staggers, coming in quick huffs, and you grab at the bedsheets to steady yourself. Rollo works you open on those fingers, curling and scissoring in equal measure. The slick squelches join in the salacious symphony you’re currently producing. Every sigh and groan come together in perfect harmony. You’re a heavenly harp, and he’s plucking your strings like an expert musician.

“Tonight is unforgivable,” he adds, and you blink through blissful tears to view him. “Folly is the worst distraction.”

“Then be stupid with me,” you joke, running your hands over his shoulders. He’s so cold. “Warm yourself with me.”

And he will because he’s always wanted to. He’s desired it. Craved it. Coveted it. Thought of nothing else for days and days, each delusion so cyclical it often felt tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, sliding his other hand up your hip and towards your rib. He traces the path of where it lies beneath layers of flesh before pressing down to feel it. “So beautiful…”

Your hand glides into his, fingers twining like silken thread around a spool. A lopsided smile lifts your lips, and you preen under him. “Yeah? Am I really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about the obvious…” Your walls hug his fingers tighter then, and a shiver electrifies your nerves. He hums again, quite pleased. “Oh, did you like that?”

“I did. Very much.”

Lashes fluttering against your cheekbones, your head thrown back in ecstasy ever-mounting, you render him ensorcelled. Like a prized Renaissance nude, a goat laid to sacrifice in the crow’s nest, you are beatific. Divinely so.

“Allow me to reiterate then.” He hastens his pace, pumping his fingers relentlessly. You tamp down a shameless moan. “You’re exquisitely beddable. A work of art. Enchanting. Une belle femme.”

You’re nearing the edge—very gradually, but not quite—and so it’s devastating when he slips his fingers out, each one thoroughly coated in you. They shimmer in the dim light, reminding you of where they had previously been.

“Put it back in,” you beg with wide, glossy eyes. “C’mon… Please don’t stop now. Was so close. So close and—”

Your complaints are curbed when you follow his hand as it moves to wrap around his half-hard cock. He strokes himself thrice, using your slick as lube, until his cock is curving up against his stomach. You stare at him; he stares right back.

And then you realize he intends to go all the way.

“Wait, Rol…lo… S’not my safe day,” you say, shifting away. Whether impatiently or anxiously, he can’t tell, but he can certainly guess. Your world spins once, a dizzying blur, before it promptly clears. In the very center of your vision, as he’s always been, Rollo remains. “S’not safe…”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with levity. “I know.”

He’s kept track, dutiful like always.

You attempt to crawl out from under him, but he stops you. Your stomach churns.

“I’ll pull out in time,” he promises, rubbing soothing circles into your plush hips.

Even with the alcohol still buzzing through your system, you aren’t convinced. “N-No, really, we should stop here…”

“You’ll feel so good. Come now, aren’t we nearly there already?”

Rollo lifts your legs onto his shoulders. You squirm with more determination this time, but his fingers dig into your thighs. With a startled squeak, you sink into the mattress, cowed into submission.

“We… We can’t.”

“Why not?” The smooth, soft head of his cock prods curiously at your pussy.

You chew your lip, admitting in a meek tone, “I… I could get p-pregnant…”

“Pregnant,” he parrots, tasting the word as if it’s a delicacy he has yet to sample. His cock twitches. “Pregnant…”

“So… So that’s why…”

“Do you not want children?”

“I… Well… Now is kinda…”

He presses onwards, sinking in slowly. Your breath hitches; your heart stumbles. The intrusion is not entirely unwanted, for your slick, snug walls cling to his shape, and you almost give in to bodily inclination. But it doesn’t feel right. You’re scared. No matter how naturally your body reacts, you don’t want this.

“Rollo, wait—”

“It would be a wonderful thing—to see you rounded with my children.” Rollo props himself on either side of you, his body pinned to yours in sinful, sweaty connection. He exhales a deep breath, restraining himself as he pushes deeper. Patience is a virtue, after all. Your expression tightens with discomfort, and so he peppers your face with placatory kisses. “To see you grow in and—mmh—out of the most flattering maternity wear. To behold every change that blesses this beautiful body of yours… To see you swell with my love, filthy as it may be. Ah, but pregnancy is just as messy… Nevertheless, it shall be a special bond for us—a sacred vow, if you will. We are connected here—” he punctuates this point by slotting the rest of his length inside, and your legs involuntarily close around him to keep him there— “and soon here when life develops within.”

One hand splays across your stomach to pat it with fondness. You choke on your helpless whimper when he rocks his hips once, experimenting with the movement. It’s awkward, but it reminds you that he’s inside. So close to your womb that in just a few more thrusts he might—

“No… No, please… Rollo, you have to—oh—have to pull out. Please pull out. Don’t wanna get pregnant…”

“Oh, but you would be so beautiful.” He breathes you in, savoring sex and floral fragrance. “If I’m allowed one miracle—just one for all the anguish I’ve endured—let it be this.”

You know not of what anguish he speaks, for he’s never verbalized it, but even so it can’t possibly be so agonizing that it would warrant such invasion.

The vise-like hold your velvety walls have on his cock is deliciously addictive. He groans while he ruts into you, his eyelids fluttering. He could be animalistic and cruel in his movements—ravish you as if the world is faced with annihilation and this is his final hour—but instead he settles for exploratory leisure. His hand fits into yours and he squeezes it gently. A feeble protest builds in your throat and so he swallows it with a hungry kiss, his mouth molding against yours.

Your nails dig into his shoulders when he draws back and slides in again, filling you deeper than before. You breathe between kisses, panting and licking into his mouth in even intervals. He does much the same, anchored to you in a way that is both temporary and yet so permanent.

The world narrows down to this single sliver of space, enclosed in a canopy. And in it, laid bare and fertile, the goat is sacrificed to the crow. Death cannot reach either one here. There is only the promise of new life, thrust upon the goat all at once.

You don’t have the willpower to object, for you’ve already found yourself entrapped, so instead you cry. Tears track down your cheeks; your mascara runs with it. Ruined. So, too, is your pitch-black lipstick, smeared along the edges of your lips and printed onto Rollo’s porcelain skin.

Rollo’s hips stutter to a halt and he holds you against him when he spills thick and hot inside. Nothing is wasted; it’s all emptied deep within. If you’re lucky, it won’t take. But if some mischievous fertility goddess has cursed you, you’ll wake nauseous in the coming weeks.

If you have anything worth praying for, it’s the former.

The both of you are panting in the aftermath, but only one is coming down from his glorious high. You remain unsatisfied, your peak not yet breached. Rollo rolls his hips once more for good measure before easing out. You crumple into the wrinkled sheets, frigid and still as a statue. Carved empty and hollow, yet stuffed with sin.

The crow has come. Though this time the gift of tragedy is something between boon and curse.

— — —

The curtains are drawn to let in sunlight. It filters in through frosted glass, each pane stamped with snow, and it blinds you the moment you try to open your eyes. You twist and turn in bed, feeling heavy with hangover. A splitting ache cracks your head in half, and you groan loudly.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you hiss, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. “This sucks…”

You force yourself to wake after two more minutes of rolling around. Groaning once more, you sit up in bed. The canopy has been tied back in place, and when you glance sidelong at Rollo’s desk you notice something. A glass of water and a plate are waiting for you, seeming more enticing by the second. You throw the covers off, realize you’re nude seconds later, and promptly snatch them back. They’re wrapped around you like a comforting cloak. You stagger out of bed to check the contents. Two croissants, a single orange, a dollop of strawberry marmalade, and two tablets are arranged on the plate.

Hangover medicine, you realize, lifting one up to scrutinize it.

You peer around the room. It’s empty. And then you see the clock. It’s a little past noon.

“Oh,” you mumble, lowering into the chair. You clutch the blanket closer. “Rollo must be in class.”

Amidst the piercing migraine, which you quickly resolve by throwing your head back to swallow both tablets in a single gulp of water, two things occur to you. You’re in Rollo’s room. Naked. In Rollo’s room. Surely you must have spent the night after you returned from the party. Why are you naked?

But more importantly…

“Shit! My exam!” The excitement doesn’t help your current state, and you slouch in your seat, even more exhausted than before. “I completely missed it… Rollo’s gonna kill me.”

You scrub the sleep from your eyes and reach for a croissant, content with giving up. You don’t want to endure the walk of shame from Rollo’s room to yours. If anyone were to catch you, they’d certainly be left wondering.

As you nibble on the croissant, admiring the way Rollo’s arranged the contents of his room, you spot the edge of something beneath the plate. Perplexed, you push it aside to reveal a note. Penned in Rollo’s effortlessly pretty script, it reads:

I’ll forgive your transgression just this once if you’ll forgive mine. For now, get some rest. I’ve left breakfast here. Stay for however long you’d like.

You scowl at his attempt of ‘breakfast,’ and your stomach rumbles in dissatisfaction.

“Right?” you say to your stomach, clicking your tongue. “If anything, this is hardly a snack.”

But you’re grateful for his efforts. He cares. He always has. From the very first day you found yourself in this world, he cared.

While you peel the orange, pondering foggy recollections of last night, you begin to realize just how sticky you feel. As if someone’s slobbered all over you and left it to dry. The feeling persists between your thighs.

You pause momentarily, overcome with an uncanny sense of panic as you piece the puzzle together. The still-forming picture does not look good.

“Shit…” you whisper, haunted with a fragmented timeline. “What the hell did we do last night?”

You know. The deep, dark part of your brain knows, but you don’t want to confront it. Because Rollo wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t. He’s always done what’s best for you, so he wouldn’t.

Right?

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo flamm #yandere rollo flamme x reader #yandere rollo flamm x reader #yandere rollo #yandere rollo x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon

633 notes · View notes

klausysworld · 4 months

Note

Hello gorgeous!

Sooo I had this idea of Klaus and reader being married (she wants a divorce) but currently separated. She starts seeing Damon. Klaus lets her have her way for a bit as nothing has crossed the line, but then he finds out reader slept with Damon and Klaus goes absolutely feral over it and tells his wife that’s enough of this and drags back reader home and slides her wedding ring back on her finger.

Not His, Not Yours.

Klaus and I had slowly but surely grown apart.

We had married for decades for now, just over a century actually and to begin with it was all but a dream.

He had hundreds of thousands of gifts and words to express his love. Paintings and poems to show how pure his feelings were.

He was gentle when I needed and only ever rough when I wanted when him to be.

There wasn’t a question of doubt between us both. I loved him with all of my heart and he loved me with all of his soul. So much so that he actually proposed to me. Elijah and Rebekah couldn’t believe it but were unbelievably supportive. I even turned into a vampire so that I could be with him forever.

And for a nearly eighty years, everything was okay.

Of course the gifts were less frequent but I didn’t care about that so much. Not if I still had him. Even if he forgot to tell me he loved me, I didn’t need him to, deep down I knew that he did.

One thing I didn’t like, was when he would get flirty with other women. Especially because of how he behaved when I, heaven forbid, smiled at a man.

But still, with reassurance from his siblings and Elijah’s promise to talk to Klaus about it, I dropped it and didn’t speak of it. So he flirted, it didn’t mean anything. What’s a kiss when I have his heart?

Surprisingly Klaus never slept with anyone else. I suppose it’s unfair to say surprisingly but to be honest I had feared and expected him to have from time to time.

Especially when he became more distant. When he would disappear or return in the early hours of the morning. I would beg to know where he was and after a series of repeated yelling, he would grab me and show me his memories of the night before. Often he just got drunk and would pass out somewhere random or wonder around for inspiration, sometimes he’d attack a village and slaughter hundreds in mere hours. When finished showing me, he would give me that same look and tell me that I shouldn’t look so surprised. He may love me, but he wouldn’t ever be better for me.

And I would just nod and told him I already knew that.

And I’d wait for the next time that would happen.

We went days between sex, then weeks, gradually months and eventually we just didn’t. We slept beside each other mostly out of habit but we wouldn’t touch.

I never stopped loving him, I don’t think I ever could but I wasn’t sure if I loved him the same way anymore. And I certainly didn’t think he loved me that way. But we weren’t exactly friends either. It were as though we were just strangers at this point, strangers who held each others hearts.

And I had accepted that perhaps that’s all we would be. We lived that way for a couple of years, I’d stay with him like a shadow but that’s all I would be.

Until Mystic Falls.

So much happened in not enough time. Klaus became his true self and for some reason part of me thought perhaps that would rekindle something but he showed no more nor less interest so I just went on.

Until one day, his eyes held a spark. But it wasn’t for me. It was for Caroline Forbes.

She was blonde, young and new to vampirism but still bold and confident in herself. I was like that once, before I grew quiet and obedient to Klaus’s will.

So I took another step back and let him chase her a little. I sort of wanted him to sleep with her so that maybe he would just divorce me and I would know that what we had was really over.

But he didn’t. He gave her a present, drawings and spoke poetry to her without her realising but he didn’t kiss her or even lean in.

He still would come back to bed and lay beside me like usual.

I didn’t want him to think I would hate him if he fell for someone else. I’d rather he be happy with another than miserable with me. I knew he craved more, so did I.

And so with a lot of courage, I asked for a divorce but he refused me. That I didn’t understand.

“Why?” I asked, my brows pulling together as he scowled

“Because you’re my wife” he answered as though that meant anything anymore “I have loved you for a century. I will not just be done with you”

“Loved, Klaus. Loved. It’s in the past.” I argued

“I love you now as much as I did then” he told me, his voice raising

“No Klaus…you don’t” I whispered, my eyes glancing to the floor as I let out a small sigh. This was probably one of the reasons he liked Caroline more. I showed weakness and submission too easily to him. The difference was that I knew he wouldn’t kill me if I fought back but I feared it would be worse.

“We’re not getting a divorce. Ever.” He stated calmly, though I could feel his anger.

“I can’t do this Klaus” I mumbled. “I can’t just be known and your wife and hide in the house all the time”

“Then go out” he grumbled

“You don’t let me” I answered, remembering the last time I went out without telling him and he yelled at me for being inconsiderate and stupid. Apparently it wasn’t safe for me without his protection due to being so intimately associated with him.

“Well…now you can” he replied matter of factly.

“You should ask Caroline out” I whispered “She likes you too, Rebekah heard her talking to Bonnie about you”

“I wouldn’t-“

“But maybe you should” I sighed, hesitantly looking him in the eye once again. “You should at least try…you might like to be with someone…” I paused and swallowed dryly “someone else”

“Are you seeing…someone else?” He asked quietly, his eyes flicking between mine.

“No…not yet” I whispered and he nodded

“But?”

“But I think I should” I murmured before falling back into silence.

We stood there for a while, uncomfortable and guilt ridden before his phone went and he reluctantly left.

He didn’t come to bed that night.

To me that seemed like his way of confirming that we wouldn’t be together anymore, or for a while at least.

When I saw he had made up a bed in one of the guest rooms, it was clear that was the case.

So I started to go out a little.

When I saw Klaus with Caroline at the grill, I realised I needed to leave. Leave town, his life so that I didn’t ruin his chances.

But as fate would have it, when I rushed out of the building, I walked straight into Damon Salvatore. He recognised me in an instant and was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“What’s Klaus’s wife doing out and about?” He snickered and I sighed

“I’m not” I mumbled and he raised a brow

“Not what? Not his wife or not out?”

“I’m going home” I whispered, walking outside but he followed.

“Oh come on, I didn’t mean to scare you off so quick” he chuckled and I rolled my eyes

“Please. You couldn’t scare me” I muttered “have you seen who I’m supposed to be married to?”

“Supposed to be eh? Things not turning out?” He pressed, walking backwards beside me as I made my way back to the mansion.

“My marriage falling apart won’t benefit your precious Elena. It’s been broken for years.” I grumbled, and he rolled his eyes

“Forgive me for being curious” he muttered, his annoyance shining making my heart sink. I didn’t like it when people were rude and now I was the one doing it.

“Sorry” I whispered “I didn’t mean to sound so snappy”

I could feel his eyes on me as we neared the manner and before I could get it the door, his hand reached for mine which however pathetic it may seem, made my smile. Nobody had touched my skin for months.

“You should come out more, I’d like to talk with you some more” he told me and I faltered

“I wouldn’t tell you anything- not about him”

“I didn’t think you would” he answered, before leaving.

After that I went out a little more.

Damon would tease me and make me laugh. He would draw out the little confidence I had left and have me use it. I’d taunt back at him and go so far as to flirt once I’d had a few drinks.

After a while he asked to take me out. I thought he was joking.

“Oh will Elena be joining us? Perhaps Stefan to?” I laughed but he didn’t even smile

“I’m serious” he stated, his hand squeezing mine “just us…anywhere you want”

I stared at him “I um…I don’t know” I whispered, nervous and confused.

“I can wait” he answered as he caressed my arm softly.

When I got home Klaus was already there, his eyes on me in an instant. Without a word he placed his wedding band on the table before him and walked out the room. I felt a lump form in my throat as I shakily slid both my wedding and engagement rings off and put them beside his.

I went upstairs and cried. And I felt stupid for it because I was the one who asked for this.

So after a moment I pulled myself together and grabbed my phone. I took a breath before sending Damon a message

I like the Italian the next town over?

He replied quickly

Friday, 7?

I’ll meet you there

I’ll see you soon

I swallowed thickly and closed my messages before searching for apartments near me to rent.

If Klaus and I were actually ending this then I wanted to do it right. That meant I needed to live without him fully, so I sent in some applications to a couple of places.

Before any of them could come back, my date with Damon came around.

It went surprisingly well. We ate, spoke, joked and laughed. He paid, insistent that I shouldn’t. He then drove me back to the mansion and kissed me goodbye.

I refused to look anywhere near Klaus when I went up the stairs. He never said anything either, we spoke only if we absolutely had to and on the occasion that Damon and I would see Klaus out, we would instead go to his house for a while.

I spent a lot of time with Damon, he made me feel more alive. He brought back the spark in me that I thought I had lost and built my confidence back up. He made me feel more things in a couple months than Klaus had in the past fifteen years.

I knew it was wrong to compare them, but when all I had ever known was Klaus…he was all I had to know how a relationship worked to be able to tell if what I had with Damon was really something.

It progressed quickly, it scared me somewhat. I worried that it was a trap to make me help him with everyone else. However when I heard him defending me to both Elena and Stefan, I double guessed myself.

Slowly I felt myself begin to trust Damon, I felt as though I was learning to love and desire once more.

It was because of that feeling that I didn’t stop him when he began to take my clothes off. Or when he trailed his lips down my skin and pressed his mouth between my legs. I cried out for him when his fingers curled inside me and I clung to him when he finally took me as his own.

I stayed beside him for the rest of the night, pressed to his chest with his arms around me. It was a warmth that I wasn’t used to anymore but that I needed and yearned for. I stayed at his house for days after, wearing his clothes and living in his arms. But unfortunately I knew that I couldn’t just move in there so soon, so I had to go back to the mansion.

————————————————————————

(3rd person)

Klaus found out that Y/n had slept with Damon the day after it happened. Stefan had told him so when in the heat of an argument.

To begin with he thought the Salvatore was just trying to piss him off but when Stefan’s face dropped and his heart sped up, Klaus realised it was true.

Immediately he went home and smashed every item in her room. Shredded her clothes and tore up every flower Damon had gifted her and the little photos she had printed of them. It was after he broke apart her bed and found the box of forgotten memories did he calm down. He found all the poems and pieces of artwork he had ever given her, love letters and other tokens of their love kept safe and close to her. It broke him.

Klaus never meant for their marriage to deteriorate so badly. He loved Y/n, truly. But throughout the years he got distracted. Whenever his family got to town, his focus was off her and whenever a threat showed up he made a point of being distanced from her to ensure they wouldn’t attack her. After the first few times he’d done that, she got upset and wouldn’t want to kiss him, not when he would go weeks of ignoring her and then expecting her affection.

So he began to drink some more, to forget her touch and her voice for just a moment. But it made everything worse. She began to worry he was cheating on her and to be honest he couldn’t blame her for thinking that but in the moment when she would accuse him, he would be outraged.

He couldn’t stop himself from yelling, being offended and snapping. But after, when he would hear her cries and see her curled up in their bed, he would push himself further away in hopes that he wouldn’t be able to hurt her as much from a distance.

It only got worse.

And now he was on the floor of a room that was once his aswell, crying for his marriage that would no longer last.

Eventually he dragged himself up from the floor and went back to his own room, or rather the spare room that he had been sleeping in. He dug through his drawers to find their rings that he took after they both removed them and put his wedding band back on, smiling sadly at the fond memories of the first time she had put it on him.

He held her rings in his hand tightly as he heard the front door open and closed quietly before soft footsteps sounded up the stairs.

————————————————————————

(1st person)

I moved as quickly but as quietly as I could up to my room. I was in jeans and one of Damons shirts so I really couldn’t let Klaus see me.

Hurriedly I opened my bedroom door only to come to a standstill. Quite literally everything was on the floor. If I didn’t know what Klaus was like, I’d have thought a hurricane had passed through the room. I stared blankly for a moment before I both heard and sensed his presence from beside me.

“What did you do?” I whisper, staring at all the little things that meant so much to me scattered and broken into pieces.

“I don’t want you seeing him” he told me, his voice firm. My head snapped to his and I felt both anger and sadness swirl inside me.

“You ruined everything I have” I uttered, my voice still barely above a whisper

“You slept with him” he stated his tone cold but his eyes showed hurt and I part of em felt guilt but the other side just wanted to smack him.

“And?” I asked, my volume increasing slightly

“And? And you’re mine. You do not get to sleep around-“

“For crying out loud Klaus! I am not yours!” I yell, pointing my finger at him “And I do not sleep around! I slept with one person”

“I should have stopped you seeing him ages ago, this shouldn’t have happened” he muttered

“You can’t control every aspect of my life Klaus. We are not together anymore. We agreed on this” i whispered, my tone tired.

“We have not agreed on anything! I never wanted this-“

“Klaus we haven’t agreed on something for a good twenty years! It’s why we’re here” I exasperated

“That does not give you the excuse to fuck someone else” he growled and I glared

“Why? Did you plan on fucking me? Because I highly doubt it Klaus. And even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t have your hands anywhere near me now” I retorted.

I knew immediately that he would speed at me and so moved out of the way, he continued to chase me round the house until eventually he had me against the wall. Both of us were panting heavily, my hands pushing at his chest but he kept me caged.

“Get off me!” I cried, kicking my feet at his legs but he only grunted and held me as still as he could. I shoved at his chest with as much strength as I could but it was obvious that I couldn’t overpower a hybrid. He faltered only slightly at the impact before his hands were grabbing my waist to lift me. Without thinking I brought my hand to his face, smacking him as hard as I could manage.

His head cracked to the side and my eyes went wide. Slowly, he turned back to me. His expression was one of surprise as he stared at me. I felt myself grow meek under his gaze and my bottom lip wobbled.

“I’m sorry” I whispered “I didn’t mean to do that- I didn’t…” I felt his hold on me weaken but I didn’t move this time. My hand tingled from where I’d hit him and so did the guilt that pooled in the pit of my stomach.

His arms slipped around me, hugging me to him and I just didn’t know how to react.

I love Klaus. I do, I always will. But I couldn’t just pretend that every bad thing hadn’t happened and fall back into his arms. I wondered if in Klaus’s mind, if he thought that just sleeping with me and telling me that he found me pretty would be enough to fix this marriage. I knew it wasn’t but I worried for what he thought.

Still, I hugged him back gently. By touch reluctant but there. His warmth enveloped me and I felt my eyes water at the once familiar sensation.

“I missed you so dearly” he mumbled, his face lowering to nuzzle the crook of my neck. He pulled away slowly and grabbed my left hand, I looked to him blankly as he slid both rings back onto my finger. “I’m gonna fix everything” he whispered

“Klaus-“ I sighed

“Just let me try” he murmured

“I-“

“Please” he whispered and I sighed softly. Only the lords know whether I was going to make the right decision or not.

377 notes · View notes

swiftispunk · 10 months

Text

worship this love | frankie morales x f!reader

pairing: sub!frankie morales x fem!reader summary: on a date night in, frankie works for your attention. eventually he earns it. rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 3.5k warnings: smut smut smut, sub!frankie, soft dom!reader, dom/sub dynamics, body worship, light pain kink, some public sex, hair pulling, oral (f receiving, duh), unprotected p in v sex, kind of rough sex, praise kink, multiple orgasms, cumplay, fingering, reader (attempts to) ignore frankie, brief cockwarming, creampie, light humiliation kink, mami kink, pet names (baby, sweetheart, honey), sweet sweet aftercare, little bit of angst towards the end, insecure!frankie for sec, some fluff (they’re in LOVE, OKAY?), mental health struggles implied, established relationship. NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: aaaand we’re back! the next instalment of this kinky little series. it’s filth ya’ll, it is filth.

also since someone asked about this - i’ve actually decided that this takes place after triple frontier but is technically canon divergent bc frankie does not have a child.

mostly this series was supposed to be filth for filth’s sake but i keep expanding on these two’s relationship so some things may end up being relevant idk.

PART ONE

Considering the nature of your dynamic, you probably could have predicted the way your first proper date with Frankie would go.

It had taken until nearly two months in, Frankie looking up from his morning coffee after an evening at yours and realizing, “I’ve never taken you out to dinner or anything, have I?”

No, but he’d been a quivering mess under you the night before, tears spilling from his sweet, brown eyes as you’d ridden his oversensitive cock past the point of pleasure, only to make him come dry when he’d pleaded for respite.

So, yeah, you’re not too concerned about formalities with Frankie. Still, he’d insisted even as you’d shrugged offhandedly.

“Just seems like something I should have done by now,” he’d scowled. “What do you say, hermosa? Wanna go on a date with me?”

Like you could ever say no to him.

So you’d gotten dressed up in a tight, skimpy dress, Frankie in a collared shirt and the most formal pants he’d owned. You’d drunk expensive wine and shared a decent meal (all fairly run of the mill) - until Frankie had decided to start running his hand up your thigh under the table, brazenly stroking his fingers featherlight over the skin there.

He’d thought he’d been sly, the fucker, but of course he’d been unable to leave it at that. While you’d sipped on the last of your merlot, he’d spread your legs open further, his pupils shot as he’d searched your face for any sign of a reaction, finally succumbing and raking his fingers over your clothed heat when you’d offered none.

It had all happened very quickly then. Frankie’s lips had gone slack when you’d gripped his wrist and towed him to the bathroom, forcing him to his knees and fucking his face till you’d come against his mouth, slick smearing his chin and getting caught in his moustache.

You’d made him return to the table like that, messy-haired and wet-lipped, cock visibly hard in his nice little trousers, garnering him a series of shocked glares from the restaurant’s stuffy patrons.

“Good boys don’t tease, Frankie,” you’d reminded him, back in the safety of your booth while he’d squirmed uncomfortably beside you, blushing violently after his walk of shame. “You can wait to come until we’re home.”

He’d loved every goddamn second of it of course - the waiting, the wanting, the humiliation. And you’d loved it because it he’d loved it.

Date night becomes a weekly ritual after that, although, going forward, you opt instead to share it at either his place or yours rather than risking getting permanently barred from every restaurant in town.

You still get dressed up even if it’s a bit silly, still share a nice meal and sip on (admittedly cheaper) wine. Tonight, Frankie’s shown up at yours, a vision in his blue shirt and dark jeans, his curls free for once, Standard Oil cap presumably left behind for the sake of his ensemble. You’d unconsciously matched him, your light blue sundress a suiting compliment to his fancy (for Frankie) outfit.

What’s nice about these nights is the comradery of it all. Because Frankie’s servitude doesn’t extend beyond your sex life - in fact, around the house, you actually live a fairly balanced life. Frankie’s not the best cook, but he helps chop vegetables in the kitchen while you manage most of the hard work. Chores are split evenly between the two of you without contention and tonight, it’s your turn to do the washing up after dinner.

What’s really nice about these nights though is how they always turn into something more, always an opportunity to play.

Tonight it’s Frankie who - naturally - sets things in motion.

You’re finishing up the last of the dishes in the sink when you feel him come up behind you, pressing his broad frame into yours, his warm breath at your ear.

“I’m busy, Frankie,” you whine dismissively when you feel his hands gliding over your bare thighs and up your sides, fingers catching the hem of your dress.

It’s cold, you know - maybe a little mean - but it’s what he wants. Frankie loves working for your attention. More accurately, Frankie loves when you make him work for your attention. He especially loves it when you don’t make it easy for him.

Really, as you’ve come to discover, Frankie loves when you ignore him altogether.

“I know,” he breathes into the skin of your neck, his lips brushing over your pulse point distractingly. Arousal sparks in your core, brimming below the surface.

You attempt to reign it in. You have a role to play.

“Mmmm, baby, I’m trying to clean up here,” you chide him lightly, keeping your eyes fixed on the plate in your hands, dunking it in the soapy water, your fingers turning pruney as you work to slow your efforts, taking your time just to torment him further.

“Can I just touch you, mami?” he murmurs huskily and fuck, it’s almost impossible to resist him when he sounds like that, quiet pleading coating his words, his noticeably hard cock poking against your ass through his jeans while his hands continue to wander over every inch of you he can reach. “I won’t get in your way.”

“You can,” you allow. “But I have to finish what I’m doing.”

Frankie hums obediently.

“'Course,” he says, fingers confidently hooking under your dress now that you’ve given him the okay. His calloused hands rake over your tummy until they find your breasts, cupping them gently in his big palms and fondling them without pretension, like he just wants to feel them, just for him.

His fingertips skirt over your nipples, pinching lightly at the pebbled nubs and now you really have to work to maintain your composure. You steady your shallow breaths and focus on the motions of your hands in the sink, meticulously working your way through the cutlery now, leaving no spoon or fork or knife uncleaned.

But then Frankie grinds his hips into your ass and you have to turn the tap on to drown out the sharp inhale it elicits from you.

“You look so beautiful,” Frankie sighs, sweet words juxtaposing the filthy movement of his hips on yours, his hands moving from under your dress to stroke your hair, his lips now skirting under your jaw so he can better see your face. “This dress...”

You clear your throat pointedly.

“What’s that, Frankie?” you mutter, eyes still fixed on the sink. “Can’t hear you over the water.”

It’s a lie and he probably knows it but if the next gentle snap of his bulge into you is anything to go by - he likes it, likes that you’re barely giving him the time of day, that you’re making him earn it.

“Nothing, mami,” he hums, and you think you can feel the faint smile in his voice. You smile too, content in the knowledge he’s enjoying the game.

You continue working away while he hikes your dress up over your ass, revealing the lacey black underwear you’d been waiting for him to discover, relishing the soft groan he emits when his hands feel their way over the scratchy fabric.

“Fuck...” he curses lowly as he squeezes the meaty flesh of your ass, fingers digging into your skin with just the phantom promise of pressure. He’ll find out soon enough, you’re sure, but you’re soaking the crotch of the panties, your body naturally reacting to Frankie’s tender touch and loving attention.

But you’re not going to tell him that.

You’re vaguely aware of him dropping to his knees behind you then, languidly pulling your underwear down your legs to your ankles. You can feel his marvelling eyes on your bare ass, can sense his adoration in the way his hands feel their way upwards along your thighs. When he sighs raggedly, you decide to help him out, just a little, arching your back ever-so and pushing out your ass.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” Frankie groans reverently before ducking forward to plunge his tongue into your heat, stealing the air from your lungs. You bite back a reaction, teeth digging into your lip to avoid making a sound - any sound - that might indicate he’s having an effect on you.

Because Frankie loves this game (and you love making Frankie happy) but fuck, if it isn’t hard. All you want to do is scream and cry and let him take you, to tell him how perfect and wonderful he’s making you feel. That time will come, it always does. When the game ends and the aftercare begins, then you’ll tell him. But for now, you hold your breath and let Frankie lap at your folds, his hooked nose buried in your ass while his hands splay out on your hips, the fabric of your dress bunched messily in his grip.

You subtly spread your legs the slightest bit wider for him and Frankie groans at the offer, the flat of his tongue fanning out over your centre and tickling at your clit while his fingernails digs half moons into your hipbones. He sucks ravenously at the velvet folds of your pussy, slick spilling over his chin and down your thighs, giving away your desire pretty assuredly.

The dishes are nearly done now - you could give in and let him off the hook. But you kind of want to see what he’ll do next, if he’ll try to eat you out like this until you come, if you could stay quiet and restrained through that.

To your surprise though, he’s suddenly pulling back, lips puckering over your folds as he unlatches himself from you to rise of up off the floor and press his body into yours again, his mouth once again finding your ear.

Fuck.

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he pants into your hair, his hand sliding between your legs as he speaks before sinking two thick fingers into your aching heat. “Am I making you feel good?”

His teeth scrape over your jaw as if you were something he could eat while his fingers hook inside you, reaching that spot that makes it hard to stay standing let alone focus on the wine glasses taking up space in the sink.

Yes, you want to say. You’re making my fucking head spin, Frankie.

But Frankie has to earn that kind of praise.

“I think...” you say, deceptively blasé even as you drip over his knuckles. “I think you could try a little harder, Francisco.”

You punctuate the sentiment by placing the last glass onto the dish rack, turning off the tap and wiping down the counter, making quite the show of your indifference.

The one-two punch of the lack of validation and the use of his full name is enough to make Frankie hang his head into your shoulder in delicious anguish.

“What can I do for you?” he implores weakly.

You smile. It’s your cue to give him a win.

“You can make me come.”

You can practically hear his heart rate increase behind you.

“Yeah?” he asks eagerly, peppering sweet, grateful kisses onto your cheek as you nod - of course, baby, of course you can.

“Fuck - thank you.”

You barely have time to get a breath in before he’s back on his knees. This time, he lets the fabric of your dress fall over him, too focused on spreading your ass cheeks apart so he can better access your cunt. You help him out and slip the damn thing over your head altogether, letting it fall to the linoleum.

You have to brace your hands on the countertop to stay upright then as Frankie devours your pussy, his expert tongue piercing your entrance before easily locating your clit, flicking over it in ardent little lashes. Frankie hums and moans contentedly against you, clutching at the flesh of your ass and bringing you closer and closer to the edge, right where you know he wants you.

You finally cave, reaching behind you to touch him at last, gripping his curls and holding his face flush against your heat. His fingernails press harder into your sides when you tug at the locks with intent but Frankie never lets up the skillful movements of his tongue, his mouth now everywhere, pinned to you by that firm hand of yours at the back of his skull.

“That’s so good, baby,” you grant him because it’s true and because he deserves to know. “Gonna make me come. Want me to come all over your pretty face, Frankie?”

Frankie can only nod and moan into your pussy, desperate and suppliant. You look over your shoulder and catch his eye, that same beseeching glint reflected in his gaze and that’s all it takes - you come with a high-pitched cry, finally letting him hear the sounds of your pleasure.

You hold him prisoner where he is, fingers knotted painfully in his curls as the waves pass through you. Frankie’s eyes slip closed, unabashedly savouring each one.

You finally release him when it ends. Frankie pulls back for air, but like he can’t himself, dives forward to lick over your heat a few more hungry times, greedily drinking up your leftover come.

“Again...cariño...” he sighs, sounding as dazed as he looks. “Let me give you one more.”

You chuckle breathlessly. Always so eager.

“Sweetheart, if I’m coming again, I want it to be around that gorgeous cock of yours.”

Frankie lays his face into your ass, his arms snaking around your hips.

“Fuuuuck, yeah - please, can I fuck you? Please...”

God, this man. Begging on his knees for just the chance to fuck you. How did you ever get so lucky? You twist to look down at him, petting his hair affectionately.

“Needy boy,” you tut. “So polite for mami, though, aren’t you?”

All you get is a whimper in response. You massage your nails into his scalp and you look him over; he already appears spent, his cheeks pink and his lips puffy, eyes hooded over, face slick with you. His knees are probably throbbing against the hard tiled floor. Meanwhile, his neglected cock pleads for contact, visibly hard under his jeans.

Poor baby.

“Go on, sweet boy, give me your cock,” you command him finally. He looks up at you from under his lashes, sanguine and starry-eyed. “So hard for me, aren’t you? So hard just from making me come. How bad do you want this pussy, baby?”

“Need it - fuck - need to feel you,” he breathes while he hurriedly gets to his feet, stripping off his jeans and boxers, not even bothering to remove his shirt before the tip of his cock is prodding against you, the precum gathered there streaking over your ass.

Oh, he’s been aching for it.

He’s already lining himself up behind you, agonizingly gliding the tip of his cock over your wet centre a few times.

“Don’t tease, Frankie,” you chastise him, reaching back to dig your nails roughly into his forearm, hard enough to sting, definitely heard enough to leave a mark. Frankie gasps sharply through his teeth and gets the message, finally pushing himself inside you with a laboured groan, perniciously stretching you open till he’s fully submerged in your walls.

He stays there, frozen for a long moment, bent over your back and panting hotly in your ear, letting you - in part - adjust to his size (the other part being, of course, that he just likes it there, likes being enveloped by your warmth, likes you drenching his length and dripping onto his balls. He’d stay there, unmoving, forever if you didn’t push him, you think).

Like you’re ever not going to push him.

“Be a good boy and fuck me, Frankie,” you order him.

“I will, I will, sorry...fuck, you just - you feel so perfect...” he huffs into the skin of your neck. “Cómo lo quiere usted, mami? Slow? Rough? I wanna make you feel so good.”

“Put your hands on me, Frankie,” you instruct him and he obeys easily, one big palm moving to grip your breast while the other finds your mound, fingers ghosting over your clit.

“Good boy, baby. Fuck me hard, now, okay? Don’t you stop touching me.”

Frankie grunts softly, an affirmative sound, and then he’s pulling out halfway only to slam his cock back into you, swiftly finding a splitting rhythm.

His fingers come down on your clit then, circling the bundle of nerves as he fucks you. His other hand fans out over your chest, fingers flicking over your perked nipples, somewhat erratic but undeniably certain; he knows what you want and he wants more than anything to give it to you.

You gasp when he gets the angle just right, hitting that spot inside you and making your eyes roll back into your skull; Frankie’s triumphant smile behind you is palpable.

It’s such a rare thing, to be fucked like Frankie fucks you, to still have it feel like it’s for you, even when he’s bending you over the kitchen counter, rearranging your guts with his cock. Frankie still manages to find every trigger, every beautiful pleasure point, exploiting them for all their worth, no part of you forgotten.

You feel yourself nearing your second orgasm, your hips unconsciously pushing back into him in search of more. Frankie obliges; he pulls your frame against him so your back presses into his chest, the movements of his fingers on you never ceasing. His thrusts increase in speed and drive, hitting deeper now; there’s no hope for you, your head falls back onto his shoulder and his lips meet your ear.

“Let me feel you come, mami. Come on this cock…so fucking pretty around me, hermosa - fuck - so perfect and tight, take this cock so well. Tell me it feels good, baby…please…”

You give him another win.

“S’good, Frankie, shit - so good…I’m so close, don’t stop.”

He talks you right to the edge as heat rises in your core, his husky rambling sending shivers down your spine till the tension finally breaks. Frankie’s arms circle around your middle to hold you steady when you come, your back arching into him as you tighten around his cock and now you’re powerless to stop the raucous moan his touch inspires.

He fucks you through each shuddering crest until your body goes limp, finally pausing his measured thrusts to clutch you tightly into him, the buttons of shirt grating at the bare skin of your back as you both catch your breath.

He probably thinks you need a minute to come down. Or, more likely, he’s waiting for your next command.

You don’t make him wait.

“Keep going, Frankie,” you tell him breathlessly. “Come for me. Come inside me.”

Frankie groans appreciatively, his arms constricting impossibly tighter around you. “Fucking...thank you, mami.”

You grip the edge of the countertop for dear life then as Frankie sets a heady rhythm, quick, shallow thrusts that let you know he’s fucking you to finish. It doesn’t take him long, the rough slaps of his pelvis into your ass growing ever more chaotic until he’s coming deep inside you, his knees quivering while he groans out a string of curses into your hair.

He stays there, shrouded in your cunt till he finally begins to soften, his arms still entwined around you while his face cleaves to the skin of your upper back.

After what feels like a very long time and also not-nearly-long-enough, he slips out of you and you turn to face him at last. You clutch at either side of his patchy-bearded face and plant a gentle, thankful kiss against his cracked lips.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, babe?” he asks, his eyes still half-closed, sounding very far-away in the haze of his afterglow.

So sweet. So generous.

“Actually, yes,” you say with a grin, hopping up on the counter and slowly spreading your legs for him. Frankie’s darkened gaze drifts down to your pussy, where you can feel his come dripping out of you; you’re sure he sees it too. “It’s your turn to clean up, Frankie.”

He smirks devilishly, immediately understanding your request, before diving forward without hesitation, his hands bracing on your knees to lap at your centre, drinking in your come and his while you watch with awe. It’s beyond filthy and you’d be content to watch him forever but -

“Frankie, c’mere,” you whisper when the feeling of his tongue on your sensitive cunt starts to become too overwhelming. You grip his chin and pull his face close to yours. You both moan in unison when you lean forward to lick into his mouth, tasting the combined flavour of your salty slick and his bitter come.

You deepen the kiss then, wrapping your legs around his waist and melting into his chest as your fingers coil behind his neck. Frankie sighs into it, sweet and serene.

“You did so good for me, Frankie, honey,” you tell him when you free his mouth to plant more kisses along his shoulders, his hands, his face. “Always so good for me. Fuck - that was hot. I’m so lucky.”

You feel him shaking his head from where it rests in the crook of your neck.

“I’m lucky,” he protests quietly. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

His voice sounds far too sad all of a sudden, you think.

You pull back to meet his gaze. “Why are you saying that?”

It pains you to hear any negative self-talk from him, but this Frankie is no stranger to you by now; teeming with self-doubt and insecurity, so full of guilt and quiet torment.

You grip the sides of his face again so he’s forced to look at you when he says, “Sorry - I’m - I love you so much and I’m being stupid. I’m just…really happy I found you.”

Half a year together and he still can’t believe it.

His forehead collides with yours and you stroke his flushed cheeks with your thumbs soothingly. You don’t know where they come from, these sudden outpourings of emotion, sometimes they just seem to creep up on him out of nowhere.

You’re always there to put him at ease.

“Frankie, baby, listen to me - you deserve all the good in the world, okay? Do you have any idea how amazing you make me feel? In, like, every way?”

That brings a soft, lop-sided smile back to his face.

A little reassurance never hurts, he’d said the first night you’d met him.

With Frankie, it’s always true.

END.

frankie morales tag list (sign up here) -

@darlingjeon @soaringcloud @morallyinept @unnecesarysstuff @strawberry-privilege @tieronecrush @pedrit0-pascalit0 @wmsfornumberone @javiscigarette @endlessthxxghts @vee-bees-blog @peppesgirl @maryrhodalouandted @ktheunready @pascalisdrunk @starving-soulzz @justashypotato @ship-enthusiast @amanitacowboy @thozaoaks @huffle-punk @livinxdeadxgrl @candycane4287 @voteforpedro09 @preciousethings @urmomsgnocchi @weirdsociology @rorygurlie @thedaughters @blooming-bubs @basicoccult @johnwatsn @toxic-seduction @queerly-anxious @ehopehobihope @theduranreflex @moriartyyouwhore @thetriumphantpanda @soquicktopointthefinger @louswrld11 @butiknewyoudlinger @h1ghinmiami @harrisonispunk @rrrrosie @sushiwriterhere @joelsversion @kyloispunk @casa-boiardi @hecatombix @aphterthoughtt @str84pedro @vickie5446 @happy--birthday--kiddo @julesonrecord @yoursoulsunbreakable @myswficlist

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #sub!frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n

900 notes · View notes

hauntedbubbles · 27 days

Text

Ghost: *hands Johnny a tea* Here, this’ll sort ya out. Soap: I swear you fuckin’ Brits think tea’ll fix anything. Rudy: *confused* You’re both British, no? Alejandro: *kicks Rudy under the table* *Whispers* Now you’ve done it… Soap: *sipping tea* I identify as Scottish. Ghost: You can identify as a fuckin’ tree, mate. But it don’t change nothin’ Scotland’s part of Britain…you’re British. Soap: Geographically, aye. But that’s no’ the point! Ghost: You know, none of the Welsh or Irish boys make as much noise about it as you… Soap: This doesny concern them! Rudy: *to Gaz* Are they going to fight… Did I miss something? Gaz: *who’s been sitting quiet* Nah mate, this is foreplay for them…I’m just glad my room’s not next to theirs…

Some Soap Headcanons/Thoughts from a Scottish person? 👇🏼

“Fuckin’ Brits!”

I’ve seen a lot of folks mention how odd it was, and that the writers have somehow forgotten about Scotland being a part of Britain.

Some folks have suggested that maybe this was just an attempt of them writing Soap as a Nationalist only to be countered with comments that he would have said “Fuckin’ English.” Because Scotland is still a part of Great Britain.

Keep in mind that “British” is often used as a generalisation by many for those living in the UK, so anyone who is strongly against the Union may refuse to associate themselves with it and strongly emphasise by affirming their “I’m Scottish.”

Whatever Soap’s political views on the treaty of Union, signed all the way back on the 1st May 1707, matter not, because it’s purely banter. The Scots and English have history, and they’re playing with it (Especially when you consider Ghost's whole “Speak English.” stuff.)

As a Scottish person, who’s man was also born here, but his family are English, I often take the piss about his heritage…some of us are just like that, okay? 🤣

Soap’s accent.

I’ve seen it come up again and again in comments that Soap’s accent changes, and sometimes his Scottish accent seems forced…that his VA is clearly not a native, unlike Captain MacTavish’s…

Besides the fact that his VA is actually Scottish, Soap travels the world, he works closely with folks from all over, so it is no surprise to me that his accent is going to dip and change from time to time.

And the times where he’s “forcing it'' in"Alone ","Awa and Bile yer heid!” “It’s pishin’ it doon oot here.” c’mon now, he’s purposely trying to goad Ghost! 🤣

I worked in tourism, my colleagues came from all over. I’ve grown up with American TV shows and video games. And you bet I hear an accent and have to mimic it! When folk ask me where I’m from, it’s like a default to emphasise my accent as much as possible… oh and angry and drunk… tends to rev up the accent a little more too 👀

Basically, the accent is Scottish… with extra seasoning 🤣

#john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #ghost mw2 #modern warfare #cod ghost #call of duty mwii #kyle gaz garrick #ghost riley #cod modern warfare #mw2 #mw2 alejandro #mw2 rudy

398 notes · View notes

yawnjunn · 1 year

Text

:*:✼ TXT attending your concert ✼*･ﾟ

Woahh its been a while huh...got super busy with life, just failed my physics exam 😜✌️ and now im on my school break, i decided to write this post bcs im SUPERRR bored rn but anyways

╰┈➤ idol!ot5! txt x idol!gn!reader

╰┈➤ no warnings, just fluff

╰┈➤ quick guide : y/n = your name, y/g/n = your group's name, y/f/n = your fandom's name

yeonjun(연준) :

☆ This man isnt afraid to attend your concert WITHOUT covering his face, yk how some artists covered their face and attend their friend's concert? yeah...not yj tho

☆ He might only bring a lightstick, not those extra banners or signs or whatever

☆ The only reason why he only brought a lightstick was bcs, he treats your concert like its his monthly/weekly routine

☆ Youre having a 2 day concert in seoul? You know damn right he'll be there despite his busy schedule

☆ Having a concert in japan? Finds a way to get to japan just to attend your concert

☆ so thats why he didnt feel like the need to bring extras cs in the end, yk hes gonna attend anyways

☆ but that didnt stop fans from screaming whenever they saw yeonjun

☆ he'd probably try to make a conversation with your fans while waiting for you to perform with your group

☆ "so how long have you stan y/g/n ?"

☆ "im a y/n biased, and you?"

☆ when you came on stage and during the breaks between performing, you called out yeonjun

☆ "yeonjun i know youre here somewhere, cameraman pls find yeonjun and point the camera at him"

☆ and when the camera is on him, hes smiling brightly and covered his shy face after getting those cheers from your fans

☆ you'd probably ask him to dance to one of your songs

☆ "yeonjun dance this song for me pls" then hes like shaking his head and all, refusing

☆ but the moment the music started, he danced so well that he literally became the hot topic of your group's show

soobin(수빈) :

☆ well soobin however, he'll come 2 hours early before your concert starts

☆ the reason he came early was because he was excited to give out his handmade freebies

☆ the night before, soobin had asked if he could hand out some freebies to your concert and you found this soooo cute that you told all your fans to find soobin for freebies

☆ he may be a little bit biased but all his freebies are just you.

☆ you wonder, what did he made? well...he made a banner, your photocard that he printed himself using his company's printer, candies of your fav and pastries that he had bake

☆ believe me or not, he woke up as early as 4 am just to make cute little pastries as your concert take place in morning

☆ he believed your fans wouldnt get breakfast, so he baked the pastries for them 😭

☆ as soon as your concert starts, he whipped out his phone so fast and record it and whenever you came on screen, hes like "wahhh theyre so pretty"

☆ when you start singing, he starts crying???? hes way too proud of you that he starts crying and vent to his friends sitting next to him

☆ "you know how hard my baby worked? im so proud of them, i remember them crying every night to me because of training and now look at them, theyre on stage now"

☆ his friend sitting beside him was like, soobin are u okay??? are u drunk?? but either way, his friend can only smile and nod while listening to soobin rant

beomgyu(범규) :

☆ idc what anyone says but this man will be fighting for a front row ticket

☆ literally camps outside the venue like..literally

☆ you had offered him to enter the venue earlier than anyone before the show starts

☆ but he refused this bcs he wants to get them freebies from your fans 😭 instead of giving them out, he wants the freebies himself

☆ goes from fan to fan, if he sees a fan handing out freebies? he'll be speed walking, another fan giving out freebies too? he'll be speed walking

☆ receives the freebies until it couldnt fit in his little bag that he brought with him

☆ as soon as the security lets everyone inside, he'll be running just to get close to the barricade

☆ since hes an idol, i know its ridiculous but he'll be surrounded by 2 of his protocol team 😭

☆ even though he had brought his 2 protocol teammates, he'd somehow make them enjoy your concert too

☆ like when your group tells the fans to jump, beomgyu would convinced his protocol buddies to jump aswell

☆ you spot beomgyu in the crowds and he'd wave you like crazy, like a fan boy 😭 ...does beomgyu knows that youre his lover???? 😭😭😭

☆ but anyways, he'll go on weverse and post the concert pics and take a photo of the freebies he received

☆ "what an amazing night, they look so beautiful tonight and thank you to y/f/n for giving out the freebies, i'll be keeping it forever"

taehyun(태현) :

☆ this man is quite lowkey but he is a hardcore stan of yours

☆ hes a bit dissappointed when he founds out that he wasnt the first one to arrive at the venue, he was like "2 hours before the concert starts, and theres alot of people waiting..." poor him, he thought he was the first 😭

☆ he'd show up with his mask on and a cap as he didnt want the fans to know he came to see you

☆ but that kinda failed as your fans started to notice his famous boba eyes in the crowds

☆ this made him open his mask, since theres no point in using it 😭

☆ as soon as y/g/n performs, yk damn well he'd be taking tons of videos

☆ he'd sing along to your songs and dance to some of it

☆ he memorised the fanchant too !!!

☆ bro got jealous when he sees y/f/n got the banners like...ugh he wants one too????

☆ he was like "see i knew i shouldnt have brought lightstick only"

☆ politely asks y/f/n for some extra banners

☆ believe me or not, he'd use those digital text on his phone that says, "y/n please notice me"

☆ luckily you noticed this and blew him a kiss and in return, he gave you a big heart which made you giggle on stage which also made y/f/n cheer louder

hueningkai(휴닝카이) :

☆ you think hes gonna go alone to your concert? nope

☆ he'll invite everyone he knows, his members, his family, his staffs. literally everyone to show how talented you are

☆ as much as you would love your boyfriend to bring in alot of people, apparently it has limits

☆ so in the end, he only brought his 2 sisters, lea and hiyyih

☆ dont worry, he paid for their tickets lmao

☆ LOVES receiving freebies from y/f/n

☆ when lea or hiyyih got your photocard from the freebies, he'd say smthn like "can i have that..?"

☆ not only he likes receiving freebies but hes also a merch buyer. sees a cute wristband for the lightstick? he'll buy. a cute shirt? he'll buy. a batch with your face on it? he'll buy.

☆ he'll buy everything that has your name or your face on it, until lea told him to stop unless he wants his bank account balance to be $0

☆ he'll do anything to get noticed by you, even tho he knows youre his lover

☆ before the concert, he texted, 'i'll be on the middle row, 3rd line from the front!!'

☆ but he decided to go extra as he thought you'd forget to see him so yk what he did? he brought glowing light sticks with him to make him more noticable 😭😭

☆ when you noticed him, you gave him a heart and him being a fanboy of yours, he started giggling and bragged to his sisters, "did you see that? they definitely gave that heart to me"

☆ after the concert ends, he'd ask one of his sisters to take photos of him doing cute poses whenever youre on screen, like him doing a big heart whenever you show up on the screen

☆ fans found this cute as they started uploading his leaked pictures doing those poses

☆ people may or may not label you guys as the couple of the year 🤭

1K notes · View notes

danihow · 4 months

Text

Stare

Jack Sparrow x Fem!Reader C. Is it so hard for you to believe I love you? 7. You are so so pretty I can’t help but stare and you caught me. Requested by anonnie.

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: In which the reader realizes she cares for captain Jack Sparrow (idk).

Warning: Angst, crack, fluff, rum, drinking, (?).

A/N: I didn't realize i was writing in fem reader until i revised it, and also, i loved the tropes but it got lost by the end, i'm so sorry i butchered it. LIKE IT DOESN'T EVEN HAS A SUMMARY OMG.+ I HATE ITTT.

Sailing on board of the Black Pearl was rather... peculiar, if you were to put it in words.

One of the sea's most infamous ships in the seas, captained by one of the most known pirates of the Caribbean; a captain that according to tales was either a hero or the devil himself but to you was just a man with a severe craving for rum and an insane amount of luck by his side.

Still, you would never trade your place in the Pearl's crew by anything else in the world, it was your safe place, your home. From the creaky black floors and the moldy walls to the welcoming crew and the surprisingly insanely smart captain who cared for his crew even if his mouth never expressed it.

"Jack, have you seen Marty?" You ask while you walk past him, the Pearl was anchored in Tortuga while replenishing of provisions and the guys of the crew relaxed for a while; it was less to say to say you were a bit surprised to see Jack on board and not in a bar. "Wait why are you still on deck?"

"To answer your multiple and incessantly questions, love, one, I haven't seen Marty, two, I... I just didn't feel like it." He said, the first answer you knew was sincere but the second one was not all that honest by the way his gaze diverted further to the floor and his hands made that little gesture he does when unsure.

"You know you don't have to lie to me, Jack." You say, a raised brow inquiring for a deeper answer while Jack walked away from you. "Actually, you've been acting quite strange these past days."

"Strange?" He reiterates, brows furrowing and lips pouting right before his hands flew around him discarding your words. "You are one to tell that lass." He says, walking around you going to the hold for some of the new rum bottles. "If anything-" He starts again, some rummaging interrupting him before a satisfied hum sounds again. "You be far more strange...er."

While walking back on deck he walks again past you to his cabin, stopping at the door. "Ye should go and have some fun love, you look rather distressed." He says before closing the door behind him, leaving you rather confused in your place.

Out of all the words you just said to the captain it appeared he understood none and replied with less. To anyone else it would appear normal from Sparrow but something in your gut said it just wasn't as right as it seemed.

With a huff you turn on your heels ready to walk off the Pearl, feeling sick due to the annoyingly fleeting butterflies that seemed to rise in your belly every time he called you love even though he called every woman he met that way.

"He's so stupid." You mutter, chugging down some rum mixed with some fruity juice Gibbs handed to you once you sat down beside him at the bar, bottles flying above your head and yelling perforing your eardrums.

"Who? Jack?" He says absentmindedly while eyeing who to take another rum bottle from, hand flying to grab a drunk man's one and exchanging for is water full one. Satisfied grin on his face.

"Why is he so... confusing?" You ask again, another gulp from the bottle before giving it back to Gibbs. "Like, what is the point of answering something you never inquired about?"

"Jack be kind of... a surprise box." He says, alternating from which bottle he drinks from. "He may not say what you want to hear but more of what you need to hear."

"Well, in that case there's nothing usable in his words." You huff, Gibbs shrugging your making you groan.

"Why do you care so much either way? Ye can just let'm be lass." He opines, face scrunching at the sight of someone falling down the second floor.

"I don't care!" You exclaim, slamming your hand down the table as you turn to him.

"Whatever let you sleep at night." He mutters, patting your back before standing up, leaving you a bottle of rum and your thoughts.

Some weeks after departing from Tortuga you came to the realization that, unfortunately, you do care.

And is driving you insane.

"Let's head north, Master Gibbs!" Jack exclaimed as hi pocketed his compass, however he seemed not too sure of the directions of course that had to be taken.

"Ye heard the captain!" Gibbs recalled loudly, everyone moving to occupy themselves as loud chattering filled the deck.

Jack, however, stood in place on deck by the helm, guiding the Pearl as he seemed to be deep in his mind and a few feet away from him, hands in her pockets, stood the only other women on board ever since Anamaria left the crew, you.

Ever since talking to Gibbs in Tortuga your mind has all but stopped thinking about the man that now stood in front of you; some time ago you could’ve sworn you had good taste in men but now, you weren't so sure as you could look at him per various minutes without growing bored of the way his eyes scanned everything around him and how he never failed to do smart remarks in the most serious moments.

You weren't sure at all but what you do know is there is something scarily charming about Jack Sparrow and you can't help but feel uneasy about it.

"Love, even though I may have to accord with you as in I be madly attractive to women, you do need to go and do... whatever it is that you do." Jack stated, turning to look at you with a small lopsided smirk, eyeing your face as it turned as red as a tomato, Jack himself thinking of it as it’s kind of cute, even if he despises tomatoes.

"Right." You nodded, diverting your eyes to wherever else and stepping down to the front deck, away from Jack whose gaze followed you, a sigh leaving him.

"Ye should act on it, Jack." Gibbs dares to say as he steps back on helm.

"Act on what Master Gibbs?" He asks back, Joshamee not letting slide the knowing tone Jack's voice held upon his clueless acting.

"If I know one thing about women it is that they change their mind over a man rather quickly if he doesn’t act on it." He mutters, receiving a hum and a nod from Jack.

However, that small chat from the morning prior left a bitter aftertaste in Jack's heart, something he hadn't felt in a long, long time. It scared him.

They change their mind rather quickly. A voice in Jack's head spoke again, making him shake his head and step out of his cabin into the darkness of the Pearls at night, all of the crew sleeping, and the air silent enough Jack could hear his own breaths.

Squinting his eyes he spots a figure laying against the front deck's rail, eyes staring at the water that expanded endlessly around them. Slowly, he walked closer, his boots making a small creaky noise as he walked up the stairs.

"What are you doing awake Jack?" Your voice whispered to the air, making the captain stop in his tracks while staring at your figure in the night.

"Could ask you the same thing, love." Finally, after some seconds he walked to your side, standing firm with his back against the railing, opposing your posture.

"The sea at night is always beautiful and calming." You mutter, taking in the way the full moon reflected on the calm tides.

"Can't argue with you on that." He smirked, looking down to his compass, the little red arrow spinning for a while before staying still, pointing to his right.

"Now, why is the captain awake?" Your tone held up some diversion, Jack could hear the smile on your face and feel your eyes boring into the right side of his face.

"Couldn't sleep." He simply states. Compass away in his pocket and back drifting away from the railing, ready to walk back.

"You can stay for a while either way, I can leave if you don't want me near." You mutter, backing up to look at him, his eyes meeting yours for the first time in a few days of slipping away from you between tasks and calls.

"Now why wouldn't I want you near me, love?" He asks, sincerely confused as his eyes registered sadness and sorrow in your sweet gaze.

"I don't know, you seem to have been avoiding me these past weeks." you keep on talking as his eyes never falter upon yours. "At first I thought it was just you being weird but now I realized it's only when I’m around." You shrug your shoulders, trying to let it slip of you, but your Captain knew you even if he wanted not to, it was hard for him not to get keen on you.

"There's no need to lie about your feeling lass." He states, feeling almost sad of seeing you shrug your emotions away. "And I have not been avoiding you at all."

"You have"

"Have not."

"You have"

"Have not!" He reiterates, relaxing upon your chuckle reaching his ears.

"You know Jack..." Your voice interrupts the comfortable silence that settled. "When I first got into piracy a few years ago I swore to never care about any mates I had, knowing far well about how dishonored people were becoming as summers passed." To say Jack was intrigued about where you were headed to would be an understatement.

"The thing is, and I don't know why, is has become really hard for me not care about this crew, about the Pearl, and about you." Chuckling, you gaze falls to your hands, head moving almost in a denying demeanor. "I really tried not to care for you, Jack."

"Love..."

"Even Gibbs has come around asking what's up with me, what is it that keeps me looking for you everywhere, it's almost dumb you know..."

"What's dumb?" He had to ask, handheld together tightly to the point his nails clawed his palms.

After a few beats of silence, you force yourself to word it out, the sky shifting as the sunrise came. "How much I ended up loving you."

Jack's face became a poem, an angsty poem as guilt, surprise, shame, sadness, and something else passed behind his features. "I... Really?"

"Just forget it." you quickly recover, straightening yourself and walking away, sensing the betrayal oncoming.

"Is it so hard for you to believe I love you?" You have to ask, turning around in your heels to meet his gaze again, face stern and almost guilty as he stares back at you.

"You wouldn't even bare to imagine how hard it is, Y/N." He says, walking over to you, talking your wrist gently before you walk away on him. "I, meself, can't even come around to put in words how insane you would be if you did love me, darling."

"Why?" Your voice become small, eyes looking up to his as his hand entangled itself in a strand of your hair.

"Because, on which mind it would be correct for a woman like you to fall for a pirate like me, darling." He states, hand falling to his side, ready to let you go,

"Am I not a pirate too, Jack?" You mutter, pinky finger searching for his and tangling them together.

"You could choose not to, you're free to leave this life." Seriously enough his voice responded your question, warmth spreading throughout your chest.

"I would've done that many years ago if I wished for it, wouldn't I?"

"You won't change your mind after, right?" He asks, nose now brushing against yours, eyes searching for anything that tells him to walk away before he isn't able to.

"I will take no offense upon your words, Jack." Your smiling lips brushing against his was enough for him to shorten the distance between you two, the bittersweet taste of rum and herbs that came off Jack was making your knees weaken, hands snaking around your waist to pull you even closer if possible.

"So... this is why you stare so much?" Jack's voice is teasing, a playful smack landing in his chest as you chuckle, walking away from his embrace to wake up the crew as the sun has not risen enough.

#this is so bad #omg #jack sparrow #jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow fanfic #jack sparrow fic #jack sparrow fluff #jack sparrow angst #potc fluff #potc crack #potc fic #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #maybe i should rewrite this

278 notes · View notes

jazzthatonewriterchick · 4 months

Text

The Greatest Gift of All (JJK Men x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

"How’s this for a Christmas gift, hm?"

Pairing: JJK Men x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which your friends take it upon themselves to help you release your inner slut by taking you to a glory hole for the first time to get you some dick for Christmas. Many of them.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Dubcon/R*pe (to be safe); Reader is Fem; Reader is Black-coded; Reader Has Breasts/ Pussy/Brown Nipples/Thick Thighs/Curves; Gloryhole; Deepthroating; Face-Fucking; Hair-Pulling; SLOPPY Blowjobs & Cunnilingus; Fingering; Anal Play/Anal; Ripping Clothes; Some Dacryphilia; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampies; Bukkake; Consensual Gangbang; Petnames; Degradation; Praise; Aftercare

Petnames According to Characters:

Gojo: Cutie

Geto: Baby Doll

Nanami: Darling

Sukuna: Princess

Choso: Mama

Mahito: Kitty

Toji: Little Girl

Shiu: Pretty Girl

Ino: Sugar

Todo: Gorgeous

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

*IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: Regarding the "dubcon/r*pe" warning, while the reader does consent to a gangbang, there are parts in this one shot where she does not VERBALLY consent to different, sexual things done to her, BUT does enjoy them.

Writer’s Note: MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS, YA FILTHY SLUTS!! I'm wine drunk & going to bed. Brace yourselves. This one is very long & VERY nasty. Enjoy & stay sexy! Love you! -Jazz

*********

You stand in front of the strange building with its glowing, neon sign pointing down the stairwell beneath the building, staring at them like they’re the gates leading straight to Hell.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ joking,” you whisper to yourself.

You turn to your friends who excitedly stare at you under the glowing street lamps, their excited breaths leaving their mouths in puffs of air in the cold December night. “This was your gift to me for Christmas?!” you squeak. “A glory hole?! You brought me to a fuckin’ glory hole of all places?!”

“Surprise!” Shoko shouts while Mai excitedly giggles. Beside her, Maki just looks ready to get inside somewhere and get warm, hugging herself in her waistcoat. “We said we were taking you to one of the greatest places on Earth,” Shoko continues, puffing on her cigarette in her red coat and nylon stockings.

You would’ve thought judging from her outfit, along with the rest of the girls’, that you were going to a nightclub after dinner, which was what the girls originally told you they were taking you to before mentioning taking you to “the greatest place on Earth”. They left you complete in the dark during the car ride here, and now you understand why. “Shoko, one of the greatest places on Earth is Disney World or a spa. Nothing a damn glory hole. Like…I can’t even believe this.”

You press your hands to your temples, rubbing them as if that will help this unbelievable situation process quicker. Mai giggles in between Shoko and her sister in her faux fur coat, her glossy lips curled into a smile. “Believe it, baby,” she chuckles. “We brought you here as a way to show you that we appreciate you. It’s the best Christmas gift we could come up with for you.”

You gape at her. “You seriously couldn’t have came up with something else to get me? Like a bag or even a vacation? This is what you decided on?” You motion to the building, exasperated. “I would’ve even had taken a club hop and dinner, which I thought y’all were taking me to!”

That was the whole reason why you dressed up in your best sexy clothes for tonight: a mini dress that hugs your curves and ass, and makes your skin pop with its bright color (you wanted to catch eyes tonight); nylon stockings that stick to your shapely legs and thick thighs; a push-up bra to show off your breasts to every eligible, sexy guy on the street; rhinestone heels that you can still walk and dance in. You did your hair, letting your braids/twists/coils/curls down to bounce around your face that Mai perfected for you with eyeshadow, blush, and Fenty Gloss to make your plump lips look even more appetizing.

Now you’re getting the feeling that Mai only did your makeup just so it can be ruined in here.

“And we still will!” Shoko protests. “Honey, no way am I giving up on that hibachi dinner. And if you’re still in the mood and got all your energy after this, we can go clubbing. The night is still young, girl!”

“Plus, the clubs don’t open till about 8,” Maki chimes in, hugging herself tight in her black coat. She’s still wearing her glasses despite her eyes coated in dark eyeshadow and sharp eyeliner. “We’ve got an hour till then.” You stare at her, wanting to throw a tantrum. “You’re not supposed to chime into this, Maki,” you groan. “You’re supposed to be the sensible one!”

“She’s the one who had the idea,” Mai giggles. “My sister can be such a slut sometimes.” She bumps her hip with Maki’s, making the long-haired girl blush behind her spectacles. “Stop,” she whines. “And logically speaking, the best cure for winter blues and burnout is sex. It’s scientifically proven.”

You squint at her, not believing a word she says. “Is it though?” you argue. Maki just shrugs, not denying or arguing back. “I mean, how did you even find this place?”

“It’s been here for a hot minute,” Shoko explains. “Plenty of young, tender folks like us venture in and out of here for a quickie. I’ve been going here for the longest ‘cause it makes for a great spot for a no-strings-attached, hot, anonymous sex.” She gives you a wink that makes your stomach churn. “And it’s a reverse glory hole too, meaning you can get your nut as well as give someone else theirs.”

You stare at your friends and then at the blinking neon sign pointing down the staircase like it descends into Hell. You can hardly imagine yourself walking in there in your mini dress and heels, looking all pretty, only to be wrecked by the strangers wandering in and out of the dark that you don’t even know. Let alone their faces! You step away from your friends then, putting your hands out to stop them from coming near you.

“No,” you firmly say. “No way am I going in there. I’d rather go to the club and fuck somebody in the bathroom than do this.”

As soon as you say it, you know that it is the wrong thing to say. Shoko raises a questionable eyebrow at you. “So what’s the difference between fuckin’ a guy in a nightclub bathroom and fuckin’ a guy at a glory hole? Either way, you don’t know the dude!”

You flush embarrassingly, knowing that she’s right. “And each guy that comes in is tested and has background checks, so no weird shit,” Mai adds. “Don’t worry; we’ll show you everything once we get in.” She goes to take your hand, but your hand goes slack, your fingers refusing to interlock with hers. Your stomach is churning like you’re about to vomit and you feel like you can’t breathe despite the frigid air surrounding you. “I'm sorry, girls, but I can’t. I’m gonna take an Uber back and–“

“The hell you are!” Shoko scoffs, glaring at you. “We paid $25 each to get you your own private room for an hour and you’re not about to waste this gift.” Maki huffs exhaustingly, visibly shivering in her coat. “Can we please just get out of the cold? I’m freezing my tits off at this point.”

You look back up at the glory hole sign, biting your lip. “I-I don’t know…” The truth is you do want to go in. You want to throw caution to the wind and experience what the girls are saying will get you out of your rut that has been bugging you since November came and hasn’t left since despite Christmas finally being here and all of that hard work (and money spent) being done. You’ve been working extra hard to rack up for Christmas gifts and save money, which means working extra hours at work and budgeting….even if that meant calling off plans with your friends and staying in.

It has made you extremely stressed and they say that sex is the best stress reliever. And you’ve wanted sex for the longest time. You want nothing more than to feel hands on your body; lips on yours; a thick, throbbing cock filling you up; someone taking care of you the way you can’t. The most you can do is use your fingers and sex toys that you keep close to you in your nightstand, and though it feels good, each orgasm has been feeling more unsatisfying than the last.

You need something more. Something intense. Explosive. You need your hair pulled and your ass spanked. You need your mouth filled as you’re told what a naughty slut and a good girl you are. But the idea of doing this with someone you barely know, let alone multiple men, makes you nervous.

Mai must sense your apprehension because you squeezes your hand tight. “Hey,” she says soothingly. “We know you’re apprehensive and we know you were looking to a normal gift and some food, but we only did this because we know how burnt out you’ve been lately. Every time we see you, you’ve got dark circles under your eyes and you’ve mentioned how you’ve been sleeping less and less.”

“And you cancel plans with us nowadays just to work,” Shoko adds.

“And you’ve mentioned before how you’re not dating,” Maki adds. “So that only adds more stress to you.” Maki eagerly nods. “It’s not good for the body or for her!” She nods down at your thighs and you flush harder, hugging your coat flaps together to hide yourself from review.

You know that they’re right. Dammit, all of them are! You’ve been noticing how haggard you’ve been looking and no kind of creams or vitamins are making it better. Not to mention how irritable you find yourself getting over minor shit, like a stain on your shirt or someone stepping in front of you in a line. While irritating, you find yourself wanting to flash out more and more. It doesn’t feel good, especially now that you know your friends have noticed it too.

Maki squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “You’ve been working so hard, Y/N, and you deserve a reward for that. What better way to be rewarded than to get fucked by a bunch of sexy guys all at once?” She winks at you, giving you an encouraging smile. “Just trust us. We’d never steer you wrong. You’re going to love this!”

You, once again, gnaw on your bottom lip harshly. “Well…” You look at the sign and the steps again, wondering just what will await you once you venture down those steps. You don’t know what it is, maybe the comfort and encouragement sparkling in your friends’ eyes or the undeniable ache between your thighs, but you find yourself giving in to temptation and accepting their “gift” to you. “Okay,” you sigh. “Let’s go.”

Shoko and Mai let out a loud cheer while Maki sighs in relief, happy to finally be escaping the December cold. Maki hooks your arm through hers while Shoko practically drags to toward the staircase with its iron railing and concrete steps. You carefully step down each in your heels, your heart thundering in your chest the closer to get to the door to the secret club. Once you finally make it down the steps, Shoko knocks on the door thrice, causing a guard to emerge from inside. He eyes each of you curiously yet intimidatingly, towering over each of you.

“Hi, there!” Mai greets, giving him a finger waggle with her manicured nails. “We’re here for the party. Champagne floats.” At this, the guard gives a wordless nod and asks for your IDs to which you show him. Once he sees every single one, he steps away from the door and lets you inside. “Have fun,” he grumbles, humor in his tone despite his rough voice.

“Oh, we will,” Shoko chuckles. “Especially her.” She wraps an arm around you as she guides you inside the building which starts off as a dark hallway only lit by Christmas lights strewn along the walls as decoration, making your journey much more intense…and also exciting. With each click of your heel and your friends’ excited, hushed whispers, you can feel each emotion tighten into a ball inside of you, threatening to explode. When you finally reach the end of the hall, soft music with an R&B twang hits your ear as you come to the front desk where a young woman in a leather dress, piercings, and very nice breasts pushed up purposely high on her chest greets you four. “Welcome to the Underground,” she greets you in a sultry yet kind voice. “First time here?”

“Not for us,” Shoko explains, “but for her, yes. Go easy on this one.” She nudges you, earning a glare and a giggle from your friends. “That’s alright,” the desk clerk giggles. “I’ll show you around and how everything works around here. Just let me look up your name and what room you’ll have tonight.”

After looking up your name and finding your location, that being in the “master room” (whatever the fuck that means), she walks you and your friends down the endless hallway of doors. You believe you hear moans and lewd, wet sounds that remind you of unholy activities, but maybe that’s just your paranoia talking. The clerk brings you to a gorgeous foyer space with carpeted floors, arm chairs and a blazing fireplace. The atmosphere gives you a cozy yet sensual feeling.

“This is what we call the Master Hall,” the clerk explains. “It’s for renters with the most money, which means the rooms come with more complementary items, such as a shower, furniture, and drinks for hydration.” She walks over to one of the many doors surrounding the hall, using a key to unlock it.

“We’re just the peasants tonight,” Shoko whispers, earning giggles from the Zenin sisters.

The door is opened, revealing a beautiful and tasteful booth-like room (big enough to hold three people) that smells of lavender and vanilla. It comes with a shaggy carpet that sits between two armchairs, a loveseat, and a small table littered with mini water bottles, packages snacks, and a small tablet with its cord connected to a wall…a wall littered with holes. It is the same thing on the wall behind you.

Holes for cocks. Holes to fit your legs through for your own pleasure (including a bench for comfort). Holes to present your ass for the customer behind the wall.

You flush at the sight of them, swallowing harshly. It’s so hard not to stare at them, picturing yourself sticking your ass or pussy in one of them. Though lewd and dirty, it is also arousing. You can feel a warm tingle between your inner thighs at the sheer thought of a hot guy coming through, deciding your pussy is pretty enough, and fucking you until you’re a mess.

From here, the clerk shows everything you will need to know about your time here, including what each hole is used for and how to position yourself for comfort. She also gives you a rundown of the number one rule: “Consent is key, so if someone asks you to do something you’re not comfortable with and they refuse to respect your decision or feelings, you contact us immediately on the tablet and they’ll be escorted out.” You nod your head eagerly, putting that away for later. She smiles then, excitedly. “And that’s it! I hope you enjoy yourself, sweetie. Just give me a call if you need anything.” She gives you a wink before walking out of the room in her heels, leaving the door open just a smidge.

You look at the girls for comfort or encouragement, but they’re already heading out to give you your privacy. “We’ll be right next door if you need us, babe,” Mai says as she inches towards the door. You feel your stomach flip with fear at the idea of being left alone in such a strange place. “Wait,” you gasp. “Y’all are leaving me?”

Maki almost looks apologetic but even she doesn’t stop to stay. “Of course!” Shoko cackles. “After all, you’ll need the privacy. Have fun, girl.”

She gives you a wink before she shoos Maki and Mai out the door and closes it behind her, leaving you alone in the clean yet terrifying room with its damned holes. You feel yourself wanting to run out of the room and down the street to call a Lyft to take you home, but how would your friends react to that? They did use their own money for this. To bail now would make you feel guilty…

And also like you’d miss out on something. Something satisfying. Something that may fulfill you if you give it a try. Plus, the idea of the men who come in being checked previously before you “spend time with them” makes you feel even better about the whole situation. To calm yourself as you wait, take advantage of the offered drinks and snacks. As sit down in one of the armchairs and proceed to sip on a beer and chomp down on a bag of chips to push away the nagging anxiety, you hear a ding come from outside your room.

And then a knock along the wall facing you. Your heart nearly falls into your ass and you roughly swallow a chip. ‘One already?’ you think. You haven't even been here for twenty minutes…or have you? You haven’t been looking at the time.

“Hello over there?” a silky voice calls through the wall, startling you. “Anyone in there?” You find your voice failing you, even as the stranger knocks on the wall.

“Cut it out, Satoru,” another silkier yet deeper voice criticizes his partner. “Obviously, someone is there. She must be shy.”

“It’s okay, stranger,” Satoru, which is apparently his name, teasingly says. “We won’t bite…unless you want us to. Come over and introduce yourself. I know there’s a wall here, but still, we’d like to meet you.” You can hear the smile in his voice and the deep chuckle of his friend. Their voices are extremely attractive; the type that belong to two very attractive men. But are you to take on two men at the same time your first time here?

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, you slither off of the chair and crawl towards the two holes in the wall that the two strangers stand at. “Uh…h-hi,” you stutter. “It’s nice to meet you both.” You hear them both lightly laugh at the sound of your voice, making your stomach flip like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Nice to meet you too, cutie,” Satoru chuckles. “First time here, I’m guessing?”

“Does it show?” you sheepishly ask. You each chuckle, the tension ebbed somewhat. “This was a Christmas gift from my friends.” At this, both of them full on laugh. “To a glory hole?” Satoru guffaws. “Guess you really must’ve been needing it then, don’t you think, Suguru?”

His friend, Suguru, hums in agreement. “No shame in that,” he adds. “Sometimes, we all need a stress reliever. We come here just for that. I’m sure you need the same thing if you agreed to be here, right?” His tone has taken on a seductive purr that works on you shockingly well, making you shiver and shudder in delight.

“So you got a name?” Satoru asks randomly. The question is so simple but it startled you all the same. “Satoru,” Suguru growls in warning. “You know names are a forbidden topic here. Don't get us kicked out.”

“It’s okay,” you say abruptly, shocking yourself. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

Satoru hums, pleased with your obedience and name. “Cute name,” he comments. “But if you’re not comfortable with us usin’ your name, we can always use pet names. You okay with that?” You swear, you nearly gush in your undies at the mention of pet names. You’re a certified sucker for them. “Uh-huh,” you reply, nervously wriggling your fingers.

Satoru chuckles at your answer, whether out of humor or endearment, you have no idea. “Well, now that we’re all acquainted, do you mind if we fuck your throat for a little while, cutie?” he purrs. Before you can even utter an answer, two cocks are suddenly sliding their way through the two holes facing you. Your eyes widen at them and how big they are. While Satoru is on the thicker side and veinier with a clean cut of white pubic hairs, Suguru is much longer and curves upward, his pubics bare and completely shaven. “Go ahead, baby doll,” he coos. “Pick whoever you want. There’s no rush.”

“And if you pick this loser, just don’t leave me out,” Satoru adds, pouting. “You’ve got a free hand, don't ya, cutie?”

You stare at them for a moment longer, mouth agape and trembling. Can you really do this? Are you about to do this? You don't even know these men and you’re about to give them both blowjobs! You can hardly believe it. But at the same time, you’re relishing it. You feel a thrill shoot through you like being at the top of a rollercoaster before it hits that drop.

You first spit in your hand and rub both together to coat them in your saliva before you wrap them both around both cocks, stroking them up and down, testing out how they feel in your palms. They feel heavy like they could whack you in the face and possibly leave a mark. Soft moans and encouraging grunts leave their lips at the feeling of your soft, little hands stroking them. You become hypnotized by the shiny coat of your spit on their cocks and how your skin tone contrasts with their lighter skin–Satoru is paler while Suguru is a bit tanner.

Finding yourself salivating, you go for the real thrill seeker and lean in towards Suguru’s cock first as he is the longest one and may possibly hit the back of your throat. You wrap your lips around his head and begin to lightly suck him there before going deeper, pushing half of his shaft into your mouth while your hand strokes the other. His loud moan as soon as your wet mouth and tongue wrap around his cock is orgasmic, making that tingle between your inner thighs grow.

“Dammit,” Satoru growls, jealous that his friend gets your mouth before he does. “You lucky bastard.” Suguru begins to thrust his cock slowly into your mouth, sliding it along your tongue. “That’s it, baby doll,” he huffs. “Take me. You’re doing so well so far.” He takes a moment to slide out and slap his cock against your wet tongue before sliding back in, filling your mouth until he lightly hits the back of your throat.

Your throat flexes around him for a moment and you gag, not used to having such a large appendage in your mouth. And so deep! All you can taste and smell is him, his scent a mixture of cologne and lavender soap that seems to make you wetter. The sounds of his enjoyment only make you hornier and you find yourself swallowing his dick whole, ignoring the way your eyes sting with tears. "Fuck, your mouth feels heavenly, baby doll,” he groans. “I wish I could see the pretty face I’m fucking into.”

Satoru peers through the hole where he sees your glossy, plump lips wrapped around his friend’s dick, saliva dripping from your chin. “Just look at those lips!” He growls, almost animalistic. He begins to fuck your hand faster, picturing that it’s your mouth. Or, even better, your tight pussy. “So fuckin’ pretty wrapped around that big cock…we’ve gotta switch, Suguru, or else, I’m killing you.”

Suguru chuckles. “No need to get hostile, sir. Have at her, but don't get greedy.” He pulls out with a soft groan, slipping his cock out of your mouth. You take a moment to catch your breath before switching to Satoru who isn’t that gentle. As soon as he’s inside of your mouth, he is thrusting his entire cock into your throat, stroking the walls of your throat and filling your mouth up with nothing but him. You let out a squeal of protest as he goes too deep, making your gag reflex kick in, but as your throat flexes around him, he shudders with delight and pleasure. “Ohhh, shiiiit!” Satoru hisses. “You were right, man: her mouth is heavenly. God, her little throat is such a good cock sleeve.” He continues to thrust into your mouth, making you take all of it. “C’mon, cutie, take that big dick. Swallow it all like I know you can.”

You know you have a choice to move away, to pop off of his cock and take a breath…but you don’t. You stay on your knees with a pillow underneath you that you snatch off of one of the chairs without tearing your lips away from Satoru’s cock. You suck and gag on him like your life depends on it while stroking Suguru’s cock in time with your sucking until you’re working both cocks like it’s your profession.

As you do, another stranger comes out to the wall on your left where your other free hand lies. “I suppose I was too late for your mouth,” the stranger sighs. “But perhaps you have another hand free, darling?” His voice, calm, deep and coated in honey, makes you shiver.

“Nanami?!” Satoru guffaws, still fucking your mouth. “Oh, shit, you come here too?!” Nanami doesn’t sound too happy about seeing someone here that he knows. “I don’t know you,” he growls. “And you won’t mention this to anyone or else I’ll find you later and kill you myself.”

“I guess everyone needs a Christmas stress reliever,” Suguru chuckles, his voice breathless and strained from constantly fucking your hand like it’s his toy. “You’ll find it with this one. I promise you. She’s a first timer, but she’s so good at what she’s doing.”

Satoru hums in agreement, slipping out to give Suguru another chance at fucking your sloppy throat. “That she is,” he agrees. “You wanna takin three big cocks at the same time, cutie? You don’t have to think about anything except makin’ these cocks cum.”

You find yourself wanting just that: to be nothing but an object for these three men. To be a hole for them to fuck because it pleases you too. You don’t want to think about anything––not Christmas or work or money––but making them bust their loads all over you. So you reach a hand out and grasp Nanami’s cock which is just as veiny and thick as Satoru’s and protrudes from a nest of clean, cut, golden hairs. His shuddery moan makes your stomach flip in excitement, especially when he joins the chorus of moans, grunts, and pleasurable sighs from the duo.

For a while, it’s just the three of them…until it isn’t. Two more men show up, behind the wall facing your back. One of them knocks on the wall, startling you enough to retract your mouth from Suguru’s cock. “Boring,” the stranger grumbles, his voice raspy yet smooth, sending chills up and down your skin. “Don’t tell me you three losers have just been pumping your dicks in her holes and haven’t touched her yet. Amateurs.”

“It’s truly a shame, brother,” the other stranger, his voice softer yet deeper, agrees. “And she’s a pretty little thing from the looks of this photo. I bet that ass and pussy are even prettier. You wanna show us what those losers are missin’ out on, mama? Skunka and I can take care of you.” His voice and the idea of being touched by them tempts you more than you can explain.

“Reaaal good,” Sukuna growls. “You haven’t seen a big dick yet, princess. Choso and I both two. Now get that pussy over here before I lose my patience.”

“That’s no way to talk to this girl!” Satoru criticizes though he has switched places with Suguru again and is now thrusting into your throat until his balls swing against your chin. “This is…fuck, cutie…her first time!”

“Are you sayin’ we don’t have big dicks too?” Suguru asks, sounding irritated with and offended by the statement.

“Ooooh,” Sukuna coos, full-on ignoring Suguru, the sound sending a shiver up your spine. “Even better. Don’t worry; I’ll prep her first. That’s why the lube is here.” Choso chuckles mischievously behind the wall, giving you a sense that they plan to do exactly what they are telling you…and won’t be gentle about it either.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you are lifting your ass in the air and pressing it into the hole behind you that is big enough to fit your ass cheeks and your pussy into it at the same time. The brothers groan at the sight of your plump ass and wet pussy on display for them, leading Skunk to squirt some lube onto his fingers while Choso lightly glides his fingers over your slit. You can’t help the soft moans that escape you as you continue to blow Satoru and Suguru while stroking Nanami.

“Fuck, what a pretty voice,” Sukuna groans. “I know you’re prettier in person. Just as pretty as this slutty fuckin’ pussy.” He replaces Choso’s fingers and gives your pussy a light slap before gently running his cold, slick fingers over and around your slit. You retract your lips from Satoru's cock, hissing at the sensation. “Shh, mama,” Choso coos, stroking your backside comfortingly. “We won’t hurt you. Sukuna’s just gonna add some fingers, okay?”

You do your best to relax, but nothing can prepare you for Sukuna’s thick fingers sliding inside you. “Fuck!” you moan around Satoru’s cock. The older, pink-haired brother begins to slowly fuck you with his fingers, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. As he does, lewd sounds of his fingers stroking the inside of your sobbing, wet pussy fill the air along with the famished moans and groans of the men surrounding you (so far).

“Shit,” Satoru hisses. “I can hear how wet you are, cutie. That’s gonna make me fucking cum!” You can tell by how big his cock has gotten inside of your throat and how rough his thrusts have become, fucking your mouth like it’s his own fleshlight. Suguru hums in agreement, also fucking your hand as he swells inside of your palm. “Me too,” he pants. “Lemme fuck her mouth too, Satoru. Don’t be fuckin’ selfish.”

Satoru listens, sliding out of your mouth to give Suguru a chance to fuck it. Your throat has become raw, a slight burning sensation now present from it being constantly fucked and stretched.

“When you two are finish with her, pass her over to me,” Nanami demands, his tone strained and needy. “I can’t be satisfied with just her hand…though you’re doing a great job, darling. Such a good slut for me.” He grunts as he continues to fuck your hand, wet with your saliva and his dripping pre.

Meanwhile, you continue to be finger fucked, stretching out your pussy and helping you accommodate to the digits inside of you. “Good girl,” Sukuna approvingly says. “Takin’ a stranger’s thick fingers so nicely. Mmmm, I’m gonna have fun stretchin’ this hole out the way it needs to be.” He curls his fingers up, drawing a loud whimper out of you that excites your customers. Choso is feening for you, buckling his pants to pull out his hard cock and pumping it in time with his brother’s finger fucking. “C’mon, bro, let me feel her too,” he groans.

Sukuna angrily huffs, not sounding happy with being interrupted. “Then you’d be fuckin’ up my hard work,” he growls. “But you can taste her. Come here and put that tongue in her cunt.” The littlest, dark-haired brother does just that. Your soul practically leaves your body when he begins to suck on your clit while Sukuna continues to finger you, both brothers playing with your pussy.

The immense pleasure you feel makes your body tingle and your mouth form an O-shape as you tear your lips away from Suguru’s dick. “Oh, my God!” you sob at the top of your lungs, causing Satoru and Suguru to quickly reach their end. They love hearing how pathetic and needy you sound as your pussy is eaten and fucked at the same time. How they wish they could see you…touch you… They each begin to fuck their fists to chase their orgasms, pumping their dicks in time with your sweet moans and whimpers.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ hot, cutie,” Satoru moans. “I'm gonna fuckin’ cum on that pretty face of yours.”

“Me too, shit,” Suguru groans. “Take it all, baby doll. Don’t disappoint us, okay?”

Before you can answer, the duo each let out loud, muffled moans from behind the wall as they finally explode, cumming all over your face and cleavage, staining a bit of your dress with their nut. You gasp in surprise at the warmth that splashes across your skin as they cum on your face, ruining your makeup and coating your lips in their cum. Their loud, boisterous moans of pleasure quickly morph into soft sighs and groans as they come down from their orgasmic highs, chuckling slightly as they are sedated for the time being.

“Oooh, I can hear that someone got a facial,” a deep, rumbling, unfamiliar voice chuckles. “Am I too late for the party?” At this rate, you don’t know which wall he’s at.

“Just for her mouth,” Nanami growls. “I’m using it right now. Isn’t that right, darling?” You don’t know what possesses you, but after wiping most of the cum off of your lips and dabbing at your face with the towel provided, you turn your attention to Nanami and latch your lips onto him his cock. He begins thrusting immediately, not giving you any chance to breath or prepare yourself.

Because of his rough thrusting, you accidentally graze his cock with your teeth, earning a sharp inhale. Nanami takes his cock out of your mouth to smack you in the face with it, tapping it onto your cheek. "No teeth, darling,” he huffs. “I was under the impression that you were good at this. Don’t disappoint me.”

“You’d better be careful not to do that unless you want a spanking,” Sukuna chuckles, still fingering you. Choso hums against your clit, the vibrations traveling up to your waist and causing your hips to shimmy uncontrollably in the hole, desperate to push your ass into the sensations. “Oh, an ass wiggle?” Sukuna chuckles darkly. Guess you want one right now.”

Smack! The sharp sound and sensation of a hand coming down hard onto one of your asscheeks makes you wince and let out a gargled moan as Nanami continues to fuck your throat. “Oooh, an I join in on that?” Toji asks, obviously lust quivering in his voice. “Seeing that ass jiggle was just too good. I wanna punish this little slut too.”

“Make that for two,” another unfamiliar, deep yet equally as sexy voice chimes in. Toji laughs in delight. “Damn, that was fast. You finish up with the other little slut you had wrapped around your dick five minutes ago, Shiu?” The stranger–Shiu–scoffs through a chuckle. “More like I didn’t finish at all. Not after seein’ all these horny fucks over here, but now that I got a look at this pretty girl’s photo, I can see why.”

“Be my guest,” Sukuna chortles, delighted with the idea of you being punished by multiple men. “Just don’t have too much fun. Choso and I still gotta make this little slut cum, don’t we, Choso?” The younger brother groans in agreement against your clit as he eagerly sucks and slurps at it. “Actually, bro, take a breather,” Sukuna rumbles. “I wanna taste this whore for myself now.”

So the brothers switch, Sukuna now latching his eager, wet, torturous mouth onto your clit while Choso fingers you, fucking your cunt with slow, upward strokes that glide against your G-spot. The sensations you’re feeling are only heightened by Toji and Shiu spanking your ass repeatedly, the stinging sensations bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Finally, you feel your first orgasm of the night drawing near and you release Nanami’s cock from your mouth to moan out your warning. “Gonna cum!” you whimper. “I’m gonna cum!”

Sukuna growls into your cunt, eager for your cream all over his mouth. “Go ahead, cutie,” Satoru whines, no doubt fucking his hand behind the wall. “Cum on that tongue. God, I wish that were me!” Nanami’s deep moans of need are what lead you to latch your mouth onto his cock again, causing him to thrust desperately into your throat. “Make her cum, brother,” Choso begs. “Make this cute little slut cream all over herself.”

And Sukuna does. With a few quick, skillful flicks of his sinful tongue, you release with a loud moan only muffled by Nanami’s cock. Choso and Sukuna groan at your taste, both now slashing their tongues greedily across your pussy to lap at your juices. “I’m close too,” Nanami grunts, thrusting into your mouth faster, harder. “Gonna cum…gonna cum…fuck!”

He finally cums with a deep groan that makes your stomach flip and your pussy clench excitedly at the sound. His nut coats your tongue and the walls of your mouth, enveloping it in his taste. “Swallow it,” he orders. “Swallow all of my cum.” Though you could simply spit it out and pretend you swallowed it due to the wall, you find yourself obeying him and swallow his cum before exhaling. “Good girl,” he grumbles.

Sukuna moves away from your pussy, as does Choso, and Toji and Shiu cease their assault on your now stinging, tingling ass. “She's all nice n’ wet now,” Sukuna approvingly says. “Perfect for a nice, big cock…with a rubber.” You suddenly feel something much bigger and thicker slide against your sensitive pussy lips and you flinch at the sensations. “Relax, princess,” he cackles. “I’ll go in slow.” And he does, but he still stretches you out once he does. He grabs your lips as he sheathes himself inside you, slowly filling you up.

You gasp and your eyes widen at the sensation, a choked moan leaving your lips. “Fuck, you’re tight!” Sukuna grunts, his nails digging into your hips as his big cock sinks deeper and deeper inside of you, thrusting out before thrusting back in with another inch of him. You know without the orgasm or lube, this would be even more uncomfortable, so you’re grateful for their work.

“Mmm, she sounds tight,” Toji groans. Suddenly, a thicker cock with an angry vein throbbing along the shaft and a red tip dripping in pre-cum slides through a hole beside you on your left. “You’ve got two hands, don’t ya, little girl? Stroke Daddy’s cock too. I paid good money for you.” Another cock slides through its own hole on your right, slightly thicker and girthier than Toji’s. “Me too,” Choso practically begs. “Stroke me too, mama. I need you.”

“Don't forget me, pretty girl,” Shiu chuckles, sliding his dick through his hole to find your mouth. You don’t know what comes over you, but the need to make them feel as good as Sukuna–who moans and grunts through trembling breaths as his hands grip your hips and ass–overcomes you. You spit into your hands before wrapping them around the two cocks on either side of your head and then wrapping your mouth around the one in your face. You are fucked from both ends, so many cocks thrusting into your hands and your holes, turning your body into a living, breathing, moving flesh light.

“Oooh, sounds like someone’s gettin’ fucked,” another customer chuckles from behind one the walls. You can’t tell where anyone is anymore. “Too bad I wasn’t the first one in line for that pussy. There’s always next time though, sugar~”

“You’re just assuming you’ll get her next time, Ino,” a raspy, graveled voice retorts, saying the stranger’s name like it’s a curse word. “Once it’s open, that little kitty is going to be mine…right, kitty? You’ll need some more milk anyway.” Ino hums at the challenge, a smirk in his voice. “We'll see about the, Mahito,” he cackles. You feel as if your brain is about to explode, more because of the fact that there are more cocks to fuck, suck and make cum than because of the ones already fucking you.

Speaking of fucking, Sukuna is the king of it. The friction is sweeter than sweet now, making you grind your hips back into him to meet his rough, ruthless thrusts. His callused hands massage the flesh of your ass and his nails dig into your hips, making you winch slightly, but you love the pain at the same time. You can tell with every thrust that he is getting closer by how fast his hips go, snapping against your ass and making your tits and ass jiggle. “C’mon, Sukuna, get it over with,” Choso whines, impatient.

“Shut up,” his older brother growls. “Don’t…fuck…rush me. She’s so…fuckin’ fuck, princess…tight!”

He goes faster and faster like he’s trying to shove his entire cock into your stomach, pushing and pushing until you can hardly take anymore. You can feel your second orgasm of the night approaching and you moan around Shiu’s cock as spit drips from your lips. “I’m gonna cum!” Sukuna growls. “Take it all, you little slut! Deep in my pussy.”

And you do. You have no choice. When Sukuna bursts inside of you with a loud, primal growl and a string of curse words that would make a nun blush, your mouth forms an O as you feel a warm, wet gush of cum shoot inside you before dripping out of your pussy and down your thighs when he slowly pulls out of you, emitting a weak moan from you. The men on the side where your pussy and ass protrude from the hole in the wall groan at the sight of Skunk’s creampie dripping out of you. “Look at that, Shiu,” Toji comments. “A nice, pretty pussy all for the taking…soon.”

Shiu agrees, gliding a finger over your twitching, overly-sensitive pussy, dragging cum all over your lips. “A nice, used, pretty pussy at that,” he hums. “It only makes sense for such a pretty girl. You want us to fuck you next?” You shudder and shake from the aftermath of Skunk’s rough fuck session, but also from the idea of getting filled and fucked yet again. You can’t speak, your throat too dry and puffs of air leaving your lips in heavy pants.

“I don’t fuckin’ think so,” Mahito says, though sounding chipper. “Turn around, little kitty. I’m gonna fill you up with my milk next and give you what your filthy hole is craving.”

“And who the fuck are you to take my toy away from me?” Toji asks, irritated. “You got a death wish, bitch?”

“Like we weren’t here first,” Satoru argues, just as heated. “If anybody deserves to fuck her next, it’s me and Suguru…and maybe Nanami if he can handle his pussy.” Nanami growls in anger from the insult while Suguru laughs.

“Um…sorry, am I interrupting something?” a deep voice––much deeper than Toji’s––tentatively asks. “I’m here for…” He pauses and gasps at the sight of you. “Fuck, that’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen!” he excitedly says. You feel his cock, big, thick, and would absolutely ruin you, slowly slide against your slit, making your breath hitch. “You’re so wet down here, gorgeous,” he sighs through a shuddering breath. “And so tiny, too. I can tell I’m so much bigger than you. Don’t worry though; I’ll take good care of you.”

“And who the fuck are you?” Mahito angrily growls.

“Aoi Todo,” the big, buff, deep-voiced stranger simply responds. “I’m about to fuck this gorgeous pussy here. Who are you?”

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Ino says, becoming the peacemaker between the horny men outside your booth. “There’s plenty of her to go around. We can all share!”

“Yeah,” Shiu agrees. “C’mon, pretty girl, give us that mouth. I’m sure the others can be satisfied with just your hands for now.”

Once again overtaken by your sluttiness and need, you wrap your lips around Shiu’s cock while Todo and Ino slides themselves into your hands, thrusting into your palms as they moan about how good you are. As you do, Mahito slides into your pussy as he promised, taking your hips and gripping them so hard that you’re sure they’ll leave bruises. He fucks deep into your pussy, filling your walls with nothing but him and thrusting so hard inside of you that his heavy balls slap against your clit, giving your body sparks of pleasure.

You switch between Shiu and Toji, becoming a wet hole for their relentless thrusting into your throat, causing you to gag and slobber so much that your spit drips over your tits and hits the floor. “Such a big girl takin’ two cocks at the same time,” Toji praises you. “At this rate, you’ll be a certified size queen in no time. Take me deeper, little girl.” You do as he says, taking Toji deeper down your throat and bobbing your head while Shiu slaps his dick against the side of your face, wanting more of you.

Mahito’s huffs and pants of breath get louder as he gets closer to his own orgasm, pistoning himself inside you again and again. He begins to babble dirty talk, rasped whines leaving his lips as he lets you know just how good your pussy is. “Slutty little bitch, makin’ me lose it like this…makin’ me fuck you so hard and fast…I’m gonna give you lots of milk now, okay, kitty? Gonna fill you up now…fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He, too, explodes inside of you, filling your pussy with cum. His feral grunts and whines trigger your own orgasm and he shudder around his cock as you cream all over it, squeezing him so much that his body begins to tremble from the sensations. “Oh, my God,” Todo groans, totally losing it at the sight of your pussy dripping with yet another cream pie. “Oooh, nice one,” Ino chuckles. “Though I have noticed that one of her holes hasn’t been filled yet.”

It doesn’t take rocket science to figure out that he means your asshole. “Because of this stupid fuckin’ wall,” Satoru growls. “I’d love to fuck that tight little hole, feel that ass bounce against me…” Sukuna grunts in agreement. “If we lost this wall, she wouldn’t be able to walk for days. I’d fuck that pussy so good that she’d be sore. She couldn’t even walk out of here.”

You can physically feel the arousal radiating off of the men through the holed walls, dozens of cocks oozing pre-cum and balls heavy for you. You smile at each of them, a seductive smile stretching onto your lips as someone––someone sluttier and careless––steps into your skin. “Do whatever you want to me, boys,” you purr. “I’m all yours tonight.”

And then you do something very stupid: you allow them to drop that wall. You unlock the door for them and allow them to enter the booth, two at a time, in shifts, to fuck you silly. And you can’t believe how sexy they all are.

First are Satoru and Nanami, both equally as tall and as sexy with lean muscle, but while Nanami is rocking a blonde undercut and a sharp suit (strange for a trip to a glory hole), Satoru has on a tight black tee and jeans with snow-white hair and blue eyes you know are panty droppers. As soon as the door shuts on you, he gives you a dazzling smile while Nanami’s eyes roam over your semi-naked form. “Hey there, cutie,” he chirps. “Thanks for letting us officially meet you. Now bend the fuck over.”

Before you know it, minutes later, you are bent over the loveseat by Satoru while his tongue lashes at your pussy and clit, his words muffled and mashed by his face in your cunt. “You taste so good, cutie!” he whines into your cunt, but it comes out as, “You tashte sho good, cwutie”. Either way, it makes you grind your hips back into his face and sob into the pillow. Then it’s Nanami’s turn, who does the same thing, only he uses his funny-looking tie to restrict your wrists behind your back, making it so you can’t use your hands to push him away or pull him deeper into you.

After your explosive orgasm into Nanami’s mouth, he places his hand on the small of your back, keeping you in position as he pistons his cock snuggly inside of your pussy while Satoru thrusts into your mouth from the other end. Both men trap you between them, using your holes for their own pleasure. “Nothing teamwork, right, Kenie?” Satoru chuckles breathlessly, his eyes glinting. “At this rate, we can fill this little cutie up at the same time, ya think?”

“Shut up, Satoru,” Nanami growls, one hand gripping your hair back while the other massages your ass. “You’re making me lose focus. Come on, darling, keep clamping down on me. You have one more cock that still needs a turn.” He continues to fuck you, emitting muffled moans and sloppy, wet sounds from your gushing pussy tightening around his cock with every stroke.

Soon, they switch and now it’s Satoru’s turn to finally fuck your insides. He fills you just as Nanami did, smacking your ass and groping your titties, his fingers tweaking your nipples. He leans down as Nanami pounds away into your throat, not even caring about your ruined makeup. The others watch on from behind the walls, desperate for a turn to fuck you in person.

“Such a cute little pussy tightening around that dick,” Satoru coos. “You love bein’ watched, don’t you? Love all this attention like a little attention whore…a good little cum slut. That’s what you are now, cutie. Now take my cum.” Five more thrusts and he explodes with a loud moan that bounces off of the walls as he fills you with his cum. You soon cum with him, your body shuddering and soaring high above the clouds.

“Take my cum too, darling,” Nanami grunts. “Take it all inside you…fuck!” He cums too, filling your mouth to the brim so you have no choice but to swallow again.

Next are Suguru and Sukuna. Like Satoru and Nanami, they are tall and sinewy with hard, lean muscle, but while Suguru has long black hair you want to run your fingers through and a dragon tattoo inked on his muscular back, Sukuna has spiked pink hair, tattoos, and piercings that make you wetter. They each walk with a swagger into the booth, oozing with confidence and sex appeal. It doesn’t take them long to have you on your back and their cocks to be inside you again.

Suguru sits up on his knees, slowly rolling his hips into your mouth, your head turned to the side to accommodate him. “Gently, Sukuna,” he grunts. “Don't wanna break the girl.” Sukuna is practically mounting you, your legs hiked up over his shoulders as he deep dicks you. “Please,” he scoffs. “This slutty girl can take anything we give her, right, princess?” His hand snatches out to grab your throat, squeezing it, and emitting broken gasps from your mouth.

Suguru leans down to press a kiss to your sweaty brow and whisper into your ear while Sukuna nails your G-spot again and again, turning it into mush. “You’re gonna let us fuck you good, right?” he purrs. “You’re gonna trust we can take care of this body and use you until you can’t even move because that’s what you want from us.” His thick fingers find your clit and begins rubbing it between your thighs. “You want us to fuck these tight holes until you’re cumming over and over again.”

Sukuna cums inside you for the second time, giving you yet another creampie that oozes down your thighs, before Suguru leans back and pats his lap for you. “Hop on top, baby doll,” he coos. You slowly do so, your body weak, and he holds you close, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “Just relax for us, okay?” he whispers. And as you sink down onto his cock, you feel Sukuna’s fingers, slick with spit and lube, gently probe your asshole. “Fuck!” you sob.

You grip Suguru’s shoulders as Sukuna slowly and gently stretches out your asshole, his eyes widen like a kid in a candy store at the way your brown little hole stretches around his fingers. “Good girl, takin’ these fingers in that tight hole,” he chuckles. “Even tighter than that pussy. Such a good fuckin’ slut…a nice toy for us to play with.”

Your hips begin to stutter and you stop fucking Suguru to whine and yelp at the sensations, feeling too much at the same time. Though it doesn’t exactly hurt, you feel too full and it is uncomfortable. "Can’t take it!” you desperately scream. “I can’t…I can’t!” Suguru pauses to shush you, pressing a wet kiss to your lips.“Shh, baby doll,” he whispers. “He’s gonna use your mouth instead while I fuck this pussy till I fill you up. You can handle that, right?”

Sukuna has now pulled his fingers out of your asshole to kneel beside your face, not even waiting to thrust into it. “Stop askin’ her what she can and can’t handle,” he impatiently growls. “This slut doesn’t get a choice, but I wouldn't wanna break my toy, so I’ll just fuck your throat until I cum deep inside it. How’s that, princess?”

And he does. And when he does, Suguru wraps his arms around you and firmly holds you, bucking his hips until into you. “Good girl, good girl,” he repeatedly hums as Sukuna fills your throat with every ounce of his cum. Suguru cums right after, exploding inside of you and filling you up with him until you feel full enough to burst.

Next are Ino and Todo. By this time, you’re an exhausted, cum-filled mess, your dress ripped off and makeup ruined. The only things left on you are your heels and jewelry. Ino waltzes in first, dressed in all black with a beanie drooping over his forehead. He gives you a humored smirk as the sight of you. “Oooh, shit, sugar!” he cackles. “You look so wrecked.” He kneels down to lift your chin up with his thumb. “But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet ‘cause now it’s my turn to have you. And I don’t get to share you either, so I can have you all to myself.”

He presses a wet tongue kiss to your lips, only to be interrupted by Todo. Your eyes widen at how big and buff he is with a scarred face that does nothing to hide his handsome features. Your eyes immediately fall to the bulge he is sporting in his baggy black pants, knowing you’re done for. “Speak for yourself,” he grumbles, cutting his eyes at Ino. “Usually, I don’t like sharing any pretty thing with just anyone, but I can make an exception this one time.” He smiles down at you, a twinkle in his eyes. “You’ve never seen the likes of me, have you, gorgeous?”

And then his pants are down and you decide that no, you haven’t. For Ino either. They both are so much bigger without the glory holes in the way. You can barely lift yourself up off the couch to move and the two don’t try to make you. Ino crawls on top of you and gently slaps his cock against your asscheeks. “You don’t have to do anything, sugar,” he coos. “Just lie there just like that. I’m just gonna get on top of you, slide in and…f-fuck, you’re tight!”

He fucks you prone bone style, completely mounting you as he drives his cock and hips into you, making your ass jiggle and the couch cushions bounce with his every assertive, rough movement. In front of you, you see two heavy balls, thick, muscled thighs, and a thick cock in your line of sight. Your eyes roll up to meet Todo’s who stares down at you with the desperation of a horny, tortured soul.

“Can you pick your head up for me?” he gently asks. He does so for you, lifting your head up with his hand under your chin. “I just need your mouth this time, gorgeous. Don’t worry; you don’t have to do much.” He taps his cock against your plump lips, leaving pre-cum staining them. “Just open up and…f-f-fuck yes!” His grunts and whines fill your ears as his cock slides in and out of your mouth, filling your throat and nostrils with the taste and scent of him.

Ino continues to drill his cock into you, going deeper and deeper with every thrust. “Fuck, your pussy is sweeter than you, sugar,” he groans, then chuckles. “Just kidding. Every part of you is sweet…fuckin’ delicious…” He peels back the hair in your face to see your expression, your eyes glazed over and lost in total ecstasy. “Take it all for me, sugar,” he moans into your ear. “Take all of this dick deep. I know you need it.”

He slides out a few times to fuck his cock between your ass cheeks, hotdogging you and dragging his pre-cum and your juices across your ass crack. He whines as he does this, babbling about how good your ass feels and how much he wants to fuck it.

You realize how much more vocal he and Ino are, how “subby” they sound as they groan and whimper about how tight, wet, and good your holes feel. Ino ends up cumming between your asscheeks, clenching them as he shoots his load across your lower back. You gasp weakly as he does, not expecting it, and you just feel sticky afterward.

Without moving you, the two switch and suddenly, Todo is mounting his big body on top of you, pinning you down with his weight. Though you’re exhausted, the idea of being trapped beneath his muscles excites you and you clench around him as he nails his cock inside of you again and again. “You’re s-so good at this, gorgeous,” he groans. “That pussy is grippin’ me so tightly, shit, shit shit, I’m gonna cum!”

He finally cums too, filling you to the brim with his cum. It oozes out of you freely, dripping down your thighs and around his cock, emitting soft whimpers and moans from the both of you. “Fantastic,” he huffs, kissing your shoulder. “You're at natural at this.”

Choso and Mahito seem to think the same thing when it’s their turn to wreck your shit. When they come in, their arrival is like a dark cloud floating into the room. You know just by looking at them that they’ll fuck you up. Choso is quite attractive with spiked, black hair tied into ponytails, tape on the bridge of his nose, and a pediment, sleepy look in his eyes rimmed in purple. “Damn, mama,” he laughs in disbelief. “You just had five different cocks and you’re still able to function? I’m impressed.”

Mahito is just as hot despite his unruly, long silvery hair and disconcerting smile. He also has the prettiest eyes framed by doll-like lashes, piercings, and tats that cover every inch of his muscular body. “Of course, she’s still functioning,” he argues, looking down at you with nothing but dark, molten lust. “She needs as much milk as she can handle, don’t you, kitty?” When you don’t answer, he yanks roughly on your hair, pulling you up. “Don’t you?” he growls. You hiss at the pain of your scalp being pulled.

“Don’t be so fuckin’ rough, man,” Choso growls, but even he can’t hide the way his cock twitches at the sight of you being yanked around like a rag doll. “Please!” you whine, unsure of what you’re begging for.

Choso leans toward you, his face just inches from yours. “Please what, mama?” he asks. “You want us to fuck you again?” His hand sneaks between your thighs to cup your mound, wet and overused. “It’s okay, we’ll give it to you. Don’t you even worry about it.”

Without another word, he flips you onto your back and crawls on top of you, blocking your view of the ceiling like a handsome eclipse. “Just rest your pretty ass there and let me fuck you, okay?” Then he’s sliding inside of you, your thighs pinned open by his hands. He gives himself time to get used to your tightness, rolling his hips slowly into yours. With every roll, you weakly moan and gasp, too tired to be another louder.

You can’t make any more noise because Mahito is turning your head to slide his dick into your mouth, forcing you to take every inch until his pubic hairs and balls are touching your chin and lips. He stands near the edge of the couch as he fucks your face, glaring at Choso fucking your cunt as he does. “Motherfucker takin’ my spot,” he grumbles. “You’re lucky she looks so enticing right now with how she’s taking your cock.”

Choso smirks as he drives his cock into you a little faster, causing your body to bounce against his cock. One hand shoots out to fondle your breast, rolling your hard nipple with his thumb, as he fucks you stupid, sharp huffs of breath and moans leaving his lips. But no matter how good it feels or how your clit rubs against his pelvis, you can't get any louder.

“So quiet, kitty,” Mahito chuckles. “Must not be fucking you good enough.” He slides his dick out of your throat to smack you in the face with it. “You won’t be able to hide that voice when I’m inside of you. I’ll make sure of it. I like my whores loud.”

“So do I,” Choso grunts. “C’mon, mama, give me that voice.” He slides his wet cock out of you to smack his hand against your clit, bringing a sharp, pleasurable sting that makes your thighs clench. Smack! Smack! “Give it to me!” he repeats, louder this time. “Let me know how good that dick feels fucking you!”

“Please!” you yelp. “Please, I can’t take it! It feels too good!” Happy with that, Choso goes back to fucking you until he spills his cum deep inside you, filling you up so much that Mahito is impressed with the amount…but then it’s his turn. And he makes sure that you feel it. He has you sit up on your knees and presses his cock against the entrance of your ass: the one hole that wasn’t purely fucked. You whimper and gasp as his head presses into you, farther and farther, feeling stretched despite Sukuna’s fingering and the wetness surrounding it.

“Guess nobody stretched this hole out yet,” he tuts. “Well, I’ll change that. I’m just the man to do it.” Before you can protest, he pushes himself farther into your ass. You can’t describe the pain nor the pleasure: it is searing hot and draws the loudest sounds out of you that make Mahito cackle and Choso fuck his semi-hard cock with his hand as he stands before you.

Mahito relishes your wails and the wiggles of your body as you try to get away. “Don’t run from me now, kitty,” he chuckles. “I’m just doin’ what you wanted.” He grips your hips tighter as he roughly fucks your ass, his slow strokes more torturous that fast ones. You can feel all of him stretching out your asshole as his other hand loops underneath you to rub your clit. You can feel your body failing on you, your knees and wrists becoming weak. “Aww, what’s wrong, kitty?” Mahito condescendingly asks. Can you not take anymore cock? Am I being just a little too rough?”

You whine in response, unable to form words. His hand then snatches out to grab your throat, squeezing it. “You should’ve thought about that before you opened the door, you little cock slut. Now you get what you came here for.”

You look up at Choso for rescue, but he is too busy pumping his cock in your face, chasing another orgasm. “Keep lookin’ at me,” he demands. “I want this sexy body and pretty face covered…want her to smell like me. Don’t want anyone else touchin’ her, not even my brother.” When he finally splashes his cum all over your face, Mahito empties his balls deep in your ass, filling you like you’ve never been filled before. You gasp as the feeling, your fingers clenching the pillow below you.

When they finish and leave you in your booth (not without a kiss on your lips from Choso and an ass slap from Mahito), you lay on the couch, spent and exhausted. You think this is the last of your rounds…but you forget about Toji and Shiu. And baby, you haven’t been fucked yet. They make sure you understand the differences between sex with the others and sex with them when the two older men walk into the room.

You weakly look up at them from the couch though you don’t lift your head. They are equally as hot and muscular, their toned muscles pushing against their dark clothes and cocks swinging nakedly out of their flies, veiny and thicker than snicker bars. Toji has a tiny scar at the corner of his devilish smirk, gray eyes the color of rain clouds, and a black mullet. “Last round, little girl,” he chuckles. “Don't worry; we’ll go real slow for you. Won’t we, Shiu?”

Shiu has a sharp, trimmed cut, tanned skin, and a thin mustache over his plump lips. “Mmm, absolutely,” he agrees, “but you’re not leavin’ here till you make us cum.” He kneels down so his face is level with yours, his breath smelling of mint. “And we’re not leavin’ till we make you cum,” he whispers.

Toji kneels down too, stroking a hand over your hair. “Is that understood, slut?” he asks. Weakly, you nod, understanding that you’ve opened Pandora’s box and the only way to close it is to give them exactly what they want. Toji’s smirk grows and he taps his hand lightly against your cheek. “Good.” He stands along with Shiu, their cocks dangling in your face. “Now take these cocks just like we know you can.”

You don’t know what kind of fire lights inside of you, but at the sight of their dicks dangling in front of you for you and you alone, you suddenly get a burst of energy and eagerness to get your hands on them. Minutes later, you are on your knees between them and eagerly sucking and stroking them dry, spitting, slobbering, and gagging all over them. You stare up into their eyes and alternate between stroking their dicks and trailing your hands down their toned stomachs, relishing their muscles and abs under your fingertips.

You welcome the tiny grunts and soft moans Shiu gives as he watches you, astonished at the way you take both cocks. “She’s so eager,” he moans, staring down at you in disbelief. “How is it you’ve had all of these dicks slung inside you already and yet, you’re still going?”

Toji smiles greedily at you, his hand cupping the back of your head as you throat his cock, swallowing it hole as spit dribbles from your lip. “She makes it so easy,” he sighs wistfully. “Makes it so, so easy for me to scoop her up and take her home for my own…my little toy…my little cum slut.” “Keep suckin’, pretty girl. You’re doin’ so well. Don’t stop now. Such a perfect mouth on you~” The praise has you sucking faster, gulping down both of them like the eager cum slut they see you as.

But they don’t cum down your throat. No, they want to make this count. So you find yourself sitting in Shiu’s lap with his cock snuggly inside of you and his hands gripping your hips as you slowly grind your ass back to rub against your clit. Toji sits beside you on the couch, watching you ride Shiu; more specifically, watching the way your ass moves in his lap. “Decided to give that throat a break. Just focus on makin’ my friend cum, okay?” He winks at you, wrapping a hand around his thick cock.

You don’t know what to focus on anymore: the way Toji so intensely stares at you as he fucks his hand or the way Shiu fucks back up into you. He grasps your breasts; your stomach; your ass; anything else he can touch.

“That’s it,” he praises you, his voice strained from the pleasure and your tight walls squeezing him. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight! I could stay here all day.” And you would let him. The way his thick cock strokes your velvety, inner walls and bumps against your clit is just too good for words to describe. Your eyes flutter shut as moans and gasps leave your lips and echo in the booth, unable to be hidden anymore.

You suddenly feel Toji’s hands on you and his lips sucking at your nipples. “You have the prettiest body, little girl,” he chuckles. “Look at these gorgeous nipples…so hard from these old guys’ dicks.” His teeth graze one of your hard, brown nipples, giving you a spark of pain and pleasure.

“T-Toji,” you whine. It’s the only word you can form. As he continues to work your breasts, Shiu snakes a hand around your throat and lays it there as he drives into you deeper and deeper. “Take more of me, pretty girl,” he groans. “I want to be so deep inside you that you have no choice but to take all of my cum.”

And you don’t. Because when he cums, you feel every inch of his cock swell and then explode inside of you, filling you up. Shiu presses his face into your back as he groans, cumming deep inside of you, and squeezing you like he owns every part of you. As his nut drips out of you and all over the couch, you think that he is all that is left…but you’re forgetting about Toji. When Shiu releases you and gently settles you down on the couch, Toji is more than ready to have his fill of you next.

He leans down to coo at you, a mocking expression on his face that you miss because of your exhaustion. “Tired?” he asks. Weakly, you nod, emitting a laugh from both men. "Aww, don’t worry, little girl. I’ll do all the work for you. Just stay there and be a good slut for me.”

And you do. You physically cannot move. Your limbs feel like jelly and dizziness has taken over. Toji doesn’t mind how sticky with sweat and cum you are. He takes you as you are––on your back with your legs draped over his big, broad shoulders.

His cock drives in and out of you, alternating between fast and slow, his balls slapping against your ass and his pelvis rubbing against your clit with every thrust. Shiu watches on the other end of the couch, lighting himself a cigarette. Your weak moans are drowned out by his loud grunts and the slapping of skin against skin as he fucks you into the couch.

“You like that, little girl?” he grunts, staring down at you with lust-blown eyes. “You like how Daddy fucks this pussy?” His hand, big and veiny, shoots down to grap your throat. He squeezes it as he fucks you, making you gasp. “God, you look so good like that,” he groans. "Keep that pretty mouth open for me, you little slut. I wanna see that tongue when I cum deep inside you.”

He leans down suddenly, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours. “How’s this for a Christmas gift, hm?” he murmurs to you. “Your friends must’ve known how slutty you are to have pulled this off.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. All you can do is weakly moan and whimper as Toji drives you closer and closer to your final orgasm of the night, your clit overstimulated and twitching. “Gonna cum,” you whisper, tears of desperation pricking your eyes.

Toji nods encouragingly, driving his cock faster and faster inside of you. “Cum on this dick, little girl,” he demands. “Give it to me. Give all of it to me, now.” And you do. Your orgasm hits you before you realize it, but all you can let out is a silent gasp as you cream all over Toji’s cock.

He doesn’t stop fucking you, even when your walls squeeze so enticingly around him and your mouth looks so pretty wide open like that that he shoves his fingers inside of it, letting you suck on the digits. His grunts grow louder and more guttural as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm, driving you up against the couch.

“Gonna cum,” he warns. “Gonnacumgonnacumgonna fuckin’ cum!” He yells the last two words before he lets out a deep growl as he sprays his cum deep, deep, deep inside of you, mingling with Shiu’s and all of the other men before him. You gasp at the warm, wet feeling as he orgasms, his large hands gripping your hip and throat as he slowly rolls his hips, chasing his orgasm, before he finally stops. He sighs in satisfaction, drawing his dick out of you and letting his cum drip out of your twitching, used, puffy pussy.

Finally. Finally, they’re done. You don’t think you can go on much longer. But with the way Toji and Shiu are looking at you, you can tell that they still have more plans for you. “Need…rest,” you pant, your eyes fluttering with exhaustion. But Toji tuts, gently scooping you up into his big arms.“Uh-uh, little girl,” he tuts. “You’re not done quite yet. We still need to cover you, don’t we? Make sure you remember this Christmas Eve forever.”

You’re too tired to understand what’s happening at first when Toji carries you away from the couch. But when he lowers you down on the floor near the dozens of glory holes where hard cocks dangle from, you understand exactly what’s happening. So you sit with your knees together and your palms in your lap, face tilted up, eyes closed, and panting mouth open, waiting the loads that you will soon be given. Toji and Shiu stand before you, pumping their dicks in your face, their grunts and moans mingling with the others’ behind the walls.

Finally, with a chorus of moans, whines, groans, and other sex, porn-worthy sounds of climax, every single cock you have taken tonight shoots their loads all over you––your face; your mouth; your tits; your chest; your stomach; even your back and ass. You are completely covered in cum. You are sticky and wet with it, already feeling it dry on your skin and the many different scents staining you like tattoos.

Finally, your men are satisfied and so are you. “Thanks for such a fun night, cutie,” Satoru giggles from behind the wall. “You were so good for us!” You can barely manage to smile.

After Toji and Shiu leave (after making sure you’re not dead and proposing you do this again sometime), you kick off your heels, strip off what is left of your dress, and crawl to the shower where you wash off the sweat, cum, and memories of tonight. The hot water rinses the nut, tears, and makeup off of your face, making you feel brand new. As you step out of the shower, you smell of lavender soap and steam. You are silent as you put on the bathrobe left for you, processing everything that has just happened.

You just visited a glory hole. You just participated in a gang bang. You just fucked multiple men and made them cum.

When you walk out of the bathroom, there is a sudden knock on the door and you startle. “It’s me!” Shoko calls through the door. All of the men are gone, having left earlier to give you privacy and rest. You walk to the door and open it, revealing Shoko with smudged lipstick and a strap from her dress hanging down her shoulder. She definitely enjoyed herself tonight too.

“Hey, you!” she brightly chirps. “Just came to check on you and tell you we’re about to head out. I think our hour is up.”

She looks you up and down in your robe and knowingly smirks to herself. “Sooo how’d you enjoy yourself for your first time at a glory hole?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

There is only one single thought swimming around in your foggy mind that is still coming down to Earth from cloud nine and above, too busy thinking about what other fine ass men you can meet and delicious things you can experience in this sinful yet glorious place:

“Can we come again next Christmas?”

THE END.

#smutty smut #black fanfic writer #my works #black writers #black coded reader #jjk smut #jjk reader insert #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #black reader

272 notes · View notes

wildwestdean · 2 months

Text

sweet and sour

summary: when you get back home after drinking a little too much, a sweeter side of ben slips out to take care of you. though you quickly learn that with him, you can't have any sweet without a little sour

pairing: soldier boy x female reader

word count: 3.2k+

warnings: some (mainly) ooc ben, swearing, depictions of alcohol consumption, drunk reader, angst, mentions of drug use, allusions to past sexual behaviours, fluff, hurt/comfort, nicknames/pet names

a/n: okay so i haven't actually made it to soldier boy's appearance in the boys yet, but i had a burning desire to write for him anyway. so yeah just don't judge pls lol

“What the fuck are you doing?” boomed a voice from behind you.

You jumped slightly at the sudden noise, but turned with a grin upon recognizing whose voice it was.

“Ben!” you giggled, meeting his confused gaze with bright eyes as you slightly swayed on your feet. “What’re you doing?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, trying to fight off the smirk forming on his lips as he ignored your question. “Looks like you had a good time out, huh, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks at the term of endearment, or the string of giggles that left your lips. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but it never failed to make you giddy - especially now. “I did!” you announced, before a frown suddenly took over your face as you remembered why you were in the kitchen “But now I want another drink, and I can’t find anythin’.”

Ben just stared at you for a moment, taking in your rosey cheeks and glossy eyes; but most importantly, the frown that currently adorned your adorable face. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he suddenly wanted nothing more than for that frown to disappear.

“Alright,” he sighed, heading over to you. “What do you want?”

You watched as he approached, taking in his more casual appearance of a t-shirt and sweats - and, you noticed with a shy grin, a pair of old man slippers. He came to a stop just before you, and you paused as you stared up at his stoic face while he towered over you. You didn’t even hear his question, too distracted by his overwhelming everything to even realize he asked something.

He softly called your name to rouse you from your stupor, repeating it a little more gruffly when it didn’t work the first time. “What?” you asked, blinking up at his annoyed yet smirking face.

“I asked you what you wanted,” he murmured.

“Oh,” you said, your face scrunching together as you thought about it for a few moments. “I dunno,” you determined with a shrug.

“And you expect me to find something for you?” he asked curtly, his brows rising in disbelief.

Your brow unfurrowed as you grinned up at him. “Yes, please!” you declared eagerly, oblivious to the fact that he did not want to cater to you.

He clenched his jaw, extremely irritated with his urge to smile at the sight of your cheesy grin. “Fucking-” he started, before he cut himself off with a long sigh, rolling his eyes. “Alright, fine. Just go sit down or something.”

“Why?” you asked sadly, the frown taking over your face again.

“Why?” he echoed incredulously. “When I came in, you were trying to find a drink while just staring at the fucking glassware for over a minute. That’s why.”

“Were you watchin’ me?” you asked smugly, smirking up at him. “Besides, that doesn’t mean I can’t help find a drink!” you argued, completely missing his point.

His blank expression faltered for a second, a flash of colour fleeting across his face so quick it may as well have never been there. Then he simply barked a laugh, which only deepened your frown. “I bet you wish I was, huh? And you know, that's actually exactly what it means, dollface,” he chuckled darkly, tracing his knuckles along your cheek before suddenly grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up onto the counter. “So sit this one out,” he said, ignoring your shriek of shock and protest.

“Fine,” you grumbled, completely bewildered by the ease in which he manoeuvred you; as if it cost him zero effort. Which, of course, you knew to be true.

“Good,” he said, smiling in satisfaction before ghosting a kiss against your forehead. “Now don’t fuckin’ fall off,” he warned as he walked over to the coffee machine.

You watched him in confusion, your swirling brain trying to figure out why he was suddenly so much more affectionate with you. You were used to him teasing you, or returning your flirtations and banter, though this felt like more than that. Maybe he was just being extra nice since you were drunk. Or maybe you only thought he was being extra nice because, well, you were drunk.

“Okay, knock it off,” he demanded, glancing over at you. “Why are you so frowny? I thought you liked your stupid girls’ night thing,” he added, leaning against the island with his arms crossed.

“I do like my girls' nights! And I’m not frowny” you grumbled, almost offended he would suggest otherwise.

“No?” he challenged, arching a brow as he took a few steps towards you. “‘Cause last I checked, this wasn’t your pretty smile,” he teased, tracing a thumb against your persistently downturned lips. Your smile naturally grew at that, and he beamed in response. “There’s my girl.”

Your eyes widened at his words, and your reaction must have made Ben realize what he was doing. With slightly widened eyes of his own, he dropped his hand from your face as if burned and turned away from you once more, busying himself with making your coffee - exactly the way you liked it.

You watched in silence, your feet softly swaying against the lower cabinets as your mind drifted in and out. “You don’t have any company tonight?” you found yourself asking suddenly.

“Think I’d be in here doing this if I had fucking company?” he asked hotly. “And I’m pretty sure you know when the last time I had company was,” he added bitterly.

Through all the months of you living with Ben, you had noticed when his parade of bed warmers had started to dwindle down; and you had definitely noticed when it stopped altogether. Part of you likes to wish you had something to do with it, while the other part knew that was insane.

“Okay, grouchy,” you scolded with a chuckle. “Don’t act like it’s my fault.”

“When the fuck did I act like it was your fault?” he snapped, growing exasperated.

“Are you almost done?” you asked brazenly, ignoring his question. “I’m thirsty.”

“Coming right up, princess,” he sneered.

You knew it was meant in a derogatory way based on his tone, yet you couldn’t help the warm tingle that spread through you anyway.

“Here,” he grunted after a few minutes, nearly shoving the mug at you. He raised his eyebrows impatiently when all you did was stare down at it. “I better not have made this for nothing,” he warned.

You gingerly took it from his hands, staring at it as if it was a foreign object; because, with a fluttering heart, you realized that he gave you your favourite mug - though you knew it was probably just a coincidence.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, grinning softly at him before taking a sip.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes as he hastily turned his back on you once more.

“You seem extra grumpy tonight,” you pointed out, watching him intently as you happily sipped away.

“Who fucking cares?” he grumbled, keeping his attention off you as he made himself a drink - a strong one. He had a sinking feeling that if he looked at you he’d feel all warm inside again, and he refused to let that happen. “Besides. Maybe me being extra grumpy has to do with the drunk girl currently sitting on my counter.”

“Oh,” you said meekly. “I’m bothering you?”

“You always fucking bother me,” he mumbled, slamming the bottle down.

“I don’t mean to,” you assured quietly, your vision growing blurry with unshed tears. “I thought we’ve been getting along,” you added sadly.

“Me putting up with you isn’t us getting along, dollface,” he sneered.

You inhaled sharply at his declaration, your tears finally breaking loose and running down your face. “I can just leave you alone, then,” you offered, your voice a mere whisper.

Ben made the mistake of glancing over at you, and the pang of guilt he felt inside his chest really pissed him off. He begrudgingly made his way over to you, standing between your swaying legs as he tried to meet your gaze - but you refused to acknowledge his presence.

“Look at me,” he ordered, placing a hand on your chin to force your gaze on him.

“No,” you said, closing your eyes.

He let out an honest chuckle at your stubbornness, and if you had been able to see him, you would’ve noticed his eyes sparkle with affection. “Look at me,” he said again, much softer this time as his thumbs wiped away your tears.

You let out a resigned breath, slowly looking up at him.

“There she is,” he cooed, a small smile growing on his face. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Hi,” you replied solemnly, your face scrunching ever so slightly in confusion over the interaction.

He didn’t speak for a while. Instead he just stood there, staring at you with your face in his hands as he tried to figure out what the hell to say next.

“Look, just- stop crying, alright?” he said awkwardly, almost nervously.

“Is that your idea of being comforting?” you asked dejectedly, almost laughing in disbelief.

His grip on your cheeks tightened ever so slightly for a fraction of a second, before loosening again. “You and I both know that offering comfort isn’t my thing.”

“You could at least try,” you muttered snidely. “I’m tired of being the only one of us who tries.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” he snapped, letting you go and taking a step back in order to glare at you.

You scoffed, frustratingly swiping away angry tears that began to stream down your face. “It doesn’t matter.”

A heavy silence blanketed the two of you, and you picked up your mug to idly sip at it once more as he stared you down. He suddenly let out a frustrated huff, swearing and muttering under his breath as he turned away from you and grabbed his glass. With disbelieving eyes, you watched as he left the kitchen without a second glance. You weren’t a stranger to arguments with Ben, but this time, it felt different.

You stayed where you were perched, silently finishing your coffee and trying to make sense of everything that happened. You worked yourself back up into another frenzy as you thought everything over, and by the time your mug was empty you slammed it onto the counter with so much force you were surprised it didn’t break. Hopping off the counter, you began to stumble your way to your bedroom while angrily grumbling to yourself. A new inferno was set alight within you when along the way you came across Ben, nonchalantly lounging in the den as if nothing ever even happened.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to do that inside?” you snapped, watching in growing contemptment as he merely glanced in your direction before turning his attention elsewhere, smoke billowing over his face.

“Tell you what, princess,” he muttered, taking another long drag from the joint he held. “I’ll stop smokin’ inside, as soon as you start payin’ for this fucking place.”

Without so much as giving it a second thought, you marched over to him and ripped the joint from his hands. He raised an eyebrow as he watched you with curiosity, a smirk already forming on his lips.

“I said,” you seethed, grabbing the ashtray from the side table as you stared him down. “Stop.”

He stayed silent, watching as you crushed the joint in the tray before tossing it back on the table with a clang. The corners of his mouth twitched as he fought back an amused grin before he steeled himself.

“I’ll go ahead and give you ten seconds to leave,” he announced calmly, though you knew him well enough by now to notice the hint of warning in his tone.

“Or what?” you challenged, stubbornly crossing your arms.

Normally, you knew when to stop trying to push his buttons, but you had just enough alcohol still coursing through you to keep on going this time.

He leaned forward, his presence completely imposing despite the fact he was sitting and you were standing over him. “Do you really want to find out?”

You shifted nervously as you took in his expression, and you knew he was both pissed off and annoyed; then again, it was rare that he wasn’t.

“Whatever,” you finally muttered, turning away to leave.

It wasn’t due to you being afraid of him - yes, he was intimidating as all hell, but he had never once actually physically hurt you. Despite the many times the urge struck him, and no matter how much he despised it, he quickly learned that you’re the one person he could never lay a harmful hand on. No, you simply left because you were growing exhausted over this whole night, and you just wanted some peace and quiet.

“Thought so,” he grumbled behind your back, snickering as you momentarily stopped in your tracks.

“Oh, just go to hell, Benjamin!” you exclaimed, whipping the closest thing you could grab towards his head.

He caught it easily, laughing heartily when he realized what it was. “Thanks, doll. This is just what I needed,” he teased with a grin, rattling the pill bottle as he held it in the air for you to see. “It’s the only way I can fuckin’ put up with you.”

You stared at him carefully, and you could tell just by the look in his eyes that he only said it to get another rise out of you, but you couldn’t help the way your bottom lip trembled as you fought back more tears.

His face instantly fell as he noticed your reaction, and while it was his intention, he instantly regretted it. With a heavy sigh, he tossed the bottle aside and stood up.

“What are you-” you began to ask as he made his way over to you, but he cut you off.

“Just shut up for once,” he muttered, a trace of a lighthearted chuckle in his voice as he shook his head.

You opened your mouth to fire off more insults when he shocked all the words out of your vocabulary by wrapping his arms around you. He rested his chin on the top of your head, and even though you felt insurmountable anger towards him, you quickly found yourself melting into his touch, your arms tightening around his torso. A few moments passed by before he let out a small sigh, his fingers tracing a feather-light pattern along your back; a gentleness neither of you knew he was even capable of.

“Look, I-... I didn’t… mean it,” he finally said. His tone was tight and awkward, and you knew it was a near impossible thing for him to actually admit. Honestly, hearing those words from him was nothing short of a miracle.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, knowing this was the closest you would ever get to an apology from him.

“How about we get you to bed, huh?” he asked lightly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Yeah,” you said, pulling away from him. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

You quickly left before he could respond, making it to your bedroom and locking yourself away in the bathroom to get ready. You took your time, carefully scrubbing away all the traces of the club, and the rest of the night, that you could before slipping into your night clothes.

The first thing your bleary eyes noticed when you reentered your bedroom was Ben, paused in the middle of your room with a glass of water in his hand.

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously, rubbing at your tired eyes.

He let out a heavy exhale, looking at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Was just… bringing this to leave for you."

“Thanks,” you replied awkwardly, meeting him halfway to take the glass from him.

He stared at you for a moment, watching as you made your way to the bed and under the covers. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what.

“I’ve been trying, you know,” he suddenly grumbled, unable to take the tense silence any longer.

“What?” you wondered aloud, glancing over at him.

His face was scrunched in concentration as he stared at something straight ahead, unable to bring himself to meet your gaze. “With you. To be… I don’t know… better.”

His words took you by surprise, and you felt a little guilty for making him think you never noticed. “I know that,” you admitted softly.

“I don’t think you do,” he quipped, his voice more aggressive than he meant it to be. “You bother me all the fucking time.”

“You know-” you began to argue, anger starting to simmer deep within your bones again.

“Stop,” he all but growled, holding up a hand. “Just fucking listen for once.”

You glowered at him, folding your arms as you sank further under the covers, as if seeking some kind of protection, while waiting for him to continue.

It took him a while to speak up again, and you almost thought he’d never continue, but he hesitantly explained himself. “You bother me… because you make me different.”

“What do you mean?” you asked tentatively.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, chuckling humourlessly. “I’m a dick. I don’t care that I’m a dick. But you- I’m around you, and I want to be less…” he trailed off with a sigh, unsure of how to go on.

“Less dickish?” you offered, fighting off a smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Yeah, I guess so.”

You hummed thoughtfully, thinking over your response. “In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly send me running for the hills, Ben.”

“I know that,” he said passively. “I just… I don’t know. Don’t think that I don’t try.”

He finally turned to look at you, and you could see the pleading in his eyes; the hurt. You sighed in defeat, sitting up and gesturing for him to take up the space beside you. He hesitated, raising a brow in contemplation before making his way over. You peeled back the covers for him, and he carefully slid in; cautious, as though he thought it was a trap.

Neither of you were sure what to do next, and after a few minutes of awkward silence, you laid down to settle in for some sleep. Ben followed suit, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close; you instinctively nestled against him, relishing in the warmth he provided.

“I hope you don’t think I’m drunk enough to forget that you were actually sweet tonight,” you said suddenly, your voice a playful whisper.

He let out a chuckle, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek and forcing a small giggle from you.

“Just don’t expect it all the time,” he declared, a playful undertone in his voice as well. “I’m mostly sour.”

Though despite his declaration, his grip tightened to pull you in a little closer.

“Well,” you said, closing your eyes and relaxing against him. “Sweet and sour does happen to be my favourite combination.”

“And thank Christ for that,” he muttered, more to himself than anything.

You smiled to yourself, hearing his words despite them sounding far away. You had a fleeting intent to respond, but your mind grew too heavy, and you quickly fell asleep to the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your head - though, not before you felt him placing a lingering kiss to your hairline, paired with a murmured goodnight, sweetheart.

tagging: @roseblue373

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fluff #soldier boy angst #jensen ackles #jensen ackles soldier boy #the boys tv #the boys #the boys series #soldier boy the boys

368 notes · View notes

wheresarizona · 1 year

Text

September Part 3

Jackson, 2024

summary: After twenty years apart, you and Joel Miller have been reunited and are picking up where you left off all those years ago—still just as in love as you were. Getting to the little town Joel’s brother calls home means showers, beds, and reacquainting yourselves thoroughly.

rating: Very Explicit (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (10 years), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), shower sex, oral sex (f & m receiving - Joel gets pussy drunk), vaginal fingering, masturbation (m), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise kink (Joel needs to know he’s a good boy), body worship (you’re kissing Joel’s scars), a lot of kissing, teasing, breeding kink mention, Joel being bossy, emotions, love confessions, slight angst, mention of pregnancy loss, dad jokes, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU tv Spoilers, TLOU game spoilers)

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader (reader is a doctor with no physical descriptions aside from wearing Joel’s jacket)

word count: 17.5k+ (over 6k smut)

a/n: The name of this chapter in my brain was The Fuckening™ if that gives you an idea of what you’re getting into. I also have to increase the chapter count due to reasons… I’m over the moon by all the love for this series! All of the comments and asks make me so happy!! Thank you all so much! Shoutout to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing!

I reply to comments from my side blog @wheresarizona-writes

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

It may be Spring, but nights in the mountains of Wyoming are chilly.

The abandoned farmhouse you’d taken shelter in for the evening is drafty and cold, the scrubs you’re wearing not the best attire for the conditions. Joel had put his jacket on you, but when your teeth started chattering, he’d gotten up, broken down old furniture, and started a fire in the home’s old living room fireplace, him cuddling with you on the floor in front of it.

He’d checked on Ellie, who was hiding away on the second floor, huddled under dusty blankets and cozy enough that she didn’t want to join the two of you downstairs.

He told you to sleep while he kept watch, and so you laid down in front of the fire with your head in his lap, his jacket on you as a blanket, and you fell asleep to him stroking his fingers through your hair.

In twenty years, you’ve never slept better—no nightmares, no fear, just comfort. After so much time living in the apocalypse, your body had become accustomed to only sleeping a few hours at a time, so when you woke with the night sky still black outside, you told Joel to get some rest, taking over his post.

More wood is added to the fire, your legs stretched out in front of you, a gun beside you on the floor, Joel using your lap as a pillow, on his side, facing you with an arm wrapped around your back.

It’s embarrassing how long you stare at him, your fingers slipping through his grey strands and trailing over the shell of his ear, down his jaw, feeling the coarse hair of his beard, touching those spots where it refuses to grow, and smoothing over his eyebrow. God, he’s so handsome, Joel softly smiling as he drifts off, knowing when sleep takes him, his breaths evening out and body relaxing, him melting into you.

At some point, his face nuzzles into your stomach, hearing him sigh contentedly.

It’s still hard to believe that he’s there with you after two decades of being apart, unable to stop yourself from touching him, needing to feel him to know he’s real, your hands rubbing his arm, or playing with his hair, pretty sure your eyes don’t move from his head on your thighs.

Though your gaze is locked on Joel, you’re still on high alert listening for any potential danger—the house creaks, the fire crackles, a frog croaks outside, and thankfully, there’s nothing else.

Dawn breaks in a soft glow through the windows, Joel apparently having the same internal clock as you and waking after a few hours.

His body tenses as he comes to, seeing his eyes blink open, his eyebrows dipping down in confusion as he reorients himself with consciousness. His head turns in your lap to look up at you, seeing relief wash over his features before he smiles.

“You’re here,” his words come out rough from sleep.

You smile back.

“I’m here,” you reply, sliding your fingertips over his cheek. “And I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, Joel Miller.”

It makes you grin when he gives you a dimpled smile, Joel chuckling as he moves to sit up and turns to get on his knees. He shuffles close to you, his big hands framing your face as he tilts your head to lean in and kiss you tenderly, long presses of his lips to yours like he’s memorizing how it feels.

His mouth leaves yours, kissing each of your cheeks, forehead, and the tip of your nose, faces close while he gazes into your eyes.

“I‘m not stuck with you,” he says. “I want you with me. I need you. I’ll do anything to make sure I never lose you again, and plan to spend the rest of my days on this godforsaken earth by your side. ‘Til death do us part, baby, and even then, I’ll find you again wherever we go to meet our maker.”

Your heart is thumping wildly, warmth flooding your veins at his proclamation.

“That sounds an awful lot like a marriage proposal.”

He smiles crookedly, his palms rubbing down your arms until he’s taking your hands in his larger ones.

“I’ve told you you’re it for me. I planned on marryin’ you all those years ago and still want you to be my wife.”

Sucking in a breath, there’s a nervous look on your face, because you’re not who you once were—not that naive girl who risked her job to date the hot older single dad. The world has chewed you up and spit you out, and there’s no room for risks anymore, every move needs to be calculated with your life on the line—saving Ellie worth the possibility of dying.

“We’ve been back together less than twenty-four hours…” you say slowly. “I’m not the same girl you fell in love with—”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off, his thumbs smoothing circles on the tops of your hands. “I still see her, but I know you’ve changed, just like I have. We’re survivors. We’ve been through shit, I’d kill for you without a second thought, and I know you’d do the same for me. We aren’t the same people as before, but now we’re pretty fuckin’ similar—know what needs to be done to keep livin’, and that won’t keep me from lovin’ you. I loved you then, and I love you now, and I’d marry you if given the chance.”

Tears are brimming in your eyes, your throat getting tight.

“I knew I was going to marry you—was just waiting for you to pop the question.”

His eyes soften, looking a little nervous.

“Well, I uh—” He looks away to clear his throat. “—don’t have a ring to do it properly, but things are different these days.” Meeting your eyes again, he says, “And we can’t afford to wait, not when there’s no promise for tomorrow.” He squeezes your hands. “You’ve been the love of my life for over twenty years—gone on you the moment I saw you. You’re beautiful, smart, funny, and so carin’, everything I could ever wish for in a partner, and those things haven’t changed. I know it from how you were willin’ to risk your life for Ellie. You loved Sarah like she was your own, and here you are carin’ about Ellie, too.” You sniffle, tears rolling down your cheeks at all he’s saying, knowing what’s coming. “I’m a better man when I’m with you—you make me want to be a better man that you can be proud of because I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, baby, especially survivin’ all these years on your own. A—“ He pauses to gather his words. “—a friend once said the reason I’m here is to save and protect the people I care about; I saved Ellie, and now it’s time I keep you and her safe—I don’t want you to be alone again, and I think there’s another purpose for why I’ve survived—” His face goes so soft, eyes rounding, voice thicker when he speaks. “—and it’s to love you. It’s always been to love you, and like all those years ago when I asked you to give an old guy like me a chance to take you out, I’m now askin’ for the chance to be your husband. Will you marry me?”

He looks so hopeful, and you answer right away while nodding, “Yes, Joel.” Your cheeks are drenched in tears, wiping at them with your hands. “Of course, I’ll marry you. I wanted to be your wife in 2003, and that hasn’t changed—you’re my dream man, and I’d love for you to be my husband.”

The smile he gives you could outshine the sun, that dimple of his appearing, chuckling happily as his broad palms cup your cheeks, and he crashes his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Your fingers thread into his hair, your toes curling when he licks into your mouth to tangle his tongue with your own, swallowing your moan.

This is one of those breathtaking kisses where you can feel each other's emotions, able to tell how much he loves you, how happy he is, how thankful he is, telling you without saying the words of his devotion. It steals the air from your lungs and has warmth seeping into your bones, feeling so much happiness and joy—just over the goddamn moon.

It’s a question you’ve wanted to hear since the first time he told you he loved you.

A few months after you’d started dating, he’d canceled a date because Sarah was sick with a stomach bug. You’d shown up at his house with supplies to help her feel better—medicine, electrolyte drinks, and some broth to eat when she was up for it. You had only meant to drop it all off and spend your evening reading, but he’d invited you in, so you stayed, curling up with them on the couch to watch movies. Joel had to get up to grab something, and when he returned, Sarah’s head was resting on your shoulder, asleep. After he’d carried her to bed, the two of you were standing in the kitchen, you giving him instructions on the stuff you brought over, and he’d backed you up into the refrigerator, held your face in his hands as he said, “God, I fuckin’ love you.” From then on, you waited, the two of you making plans for your future with each other, knowing you were going to spend the rest of your lives together—there was a connection, something ingrained in you that told you he was the one, and he’d felt the same.

Did this seem quick? Were the two of you jumping the gun? Like Joel said, you live in a time where you can’t afford to wait, and tomorrow isn’t promised. People move quickly these days, wanting whatever happiness they can get for however long they can have it—life expectancy is abysmal. Plus, being with him again, it feels like you’re picking up where you left off, your love just as strong as it was then, so the next logical step in your relationship is marriage. It feels right, and you want nothing more than to be Mrs. Joel Miller.

You gasp in surprise when you’re suddenly being pushed to lie back on the floor, him half on top of you, still kissing you. His hand moves to palm your breast, excitement swirling in your belly, Joel encompassing all of your senses, only focusing on him and nothing else—feeling him, touching him, hearing him.

“Oh, gross!” Ellie exclaims as she enters the room, Joel’s mouth and hand leaving you immediately. “Get a room!”

He sighs, pressing his forehead to yours.

“We’re in a damn room,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, one with no doors to shield my innocent eyes.”

“We’re just kissin’,” he sighs.

“Grossly kissing. The sounds are going to haunt me for years.”

He finally lifts his head to look at her.

“You done?”

“Are you done shoving your tongue down her throat? Was worried she’d choke on it.”

“Ellie.”

“Jesus, Joel,” she laughs. “Learn to take a fucking joke.”

He lets out a long sigh, sitting up on his knees with a groan.

“I’ll take it you’re hungry?” he asks.

“Yeah. Starving. Can’t wait to get to Jackson for real food.”

Tilting your head back, you look at her upside down.

“Help yourself to the rations,” you say, pointing at your bag on a nearby dining room table. “Sorry, there’s nothing to sit on—we needed wood for the fire.”

“Thanks, Doc!” Ellie replies, making her way over and hearing her rummaging through the cans. “More peaches! Fuck yeah!” After she gets the can open, she turns toward you both. “So, I want to sit on the floor, but like, which part is… safe?”

Joel’s standing now, hands on his hips, while his eyes squint in confusion.

“The house is structurally sound…” he says slowly. “The floorboards are in decent condition. You can sit anywhere.”

“I know the house is okay. What I mean is, what hasn’t been contaminated?”

“Contaminated?” he asks. “We wouldn’t be stayin’ here if it wasn’t safe.”

You wanted to laugh at how it was going over his head, you sitting up.

“She wants to know where we fucked, Joel, so she can avoid it.” There wasn’t any actual penetration, just some amazing oral that had you ascending to another plane of existence and Joel coming without being touched.

Fuck, he knew how to use his mouth.

His eyes get big at what you say, flush staining his cheeks as he clears his throat. You point behind you. “In that area, Ellie,” you tell her.

She makes a face as she replies, “Yuck. I’ll sit here.” Lowering herself onto the ground, her legs crisscrossed in front of her, immediately digging into her peaches. “How long of a walk to Tommy’s?” she asks with her mouth full.

Joel seems to get his wits about him, answering, “From the truck to Jackson, I thought maybe twelve hours. We only managed a few yesterday before the sun started settin’, so about nine more today.”

“That’s not too bad,” she muses, swallowing her bite. “The real question—“ she holds up her fork, pointing it between the two of you “—is if you guys can keep your hands off each other for nine fucking hours. My money’s on one—maybe. Wouldn’t be surprised if you break after five minutes.” Ellie goes back to eating her food.

You snort, and Joel scratches at the back of his neck.

“We aren’t a couple of horny teenagers,” he grouses.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees. “You’re too fuckin’ old—no offense, Doc.”

“None taken,” you reply as you stand up, your knees protesting and going a little wobbly with a grimace on your face.

Joel is in your space immediately, his hands on your arms to steady you.

“You okay, baby?” he asks, concerned.

“Like the young whipper snapper said,” you reply, nodding your head towards Ellie, her repeating whipper snapper in a confused tone. “We’re fuckin’ old—achy knees. I’d kill for an Epsom salt bath.”

He caresses your cheek.

“You need somethin’ for the pain? I got painkillers in my bag.”

“You’re sweet,” you answer, looping your arms around his neck. “But I’m fine. Just a symptom of aging.”

He pulls you into him, hugging you close.

“We’ll relax when we get to Jackson.” He kisses your hair.

“Fucking knew you guys wouldn’t last five minutes!” Ellie laughs.

Joel sighs, and you laugh along with her, the sound muffled in his chest.

The air outside is crisp, biting with cold, and the sun has barely risen as he walks beside Ellie down the highway. You’re on her other side, wearing his jacket, the semi-automatic rifle hanging at your side, ready to be used at a moment's notice.

He feels his lips curl up every time he catches a glimpse of you, something inside him loving that you’re wearing his clothes, reminding him of times you’d throw on his shirt after sex when you both padded to your kitchen for a snack and water.

He can’t help how his eyes always drift your way as the three of you keep walking, fearing that he’ll look and you won’t be there, the last twenty-four hours just some fever dream. But you are here, you’re real; Joel listening as you and Ellie discuss Jurassic Park, the book she read the night before, the girl wanting to know everything about the movies, and he can tell how happy you are to describe them to her in detail.

You’d always been good with kids. That was something that made him fall for you so hard. On your first date, he’d been upfront about Sarah, needing to make sure you understood they were a package deal, and she came first. This was where a lot of the few and far between first dates he went on ended because he could see on the women’s faces that they weren’t too keen on having to share him. You’d lit up, though, agreeing that Sarah was his priority, and asked him to tell you everything about her.

After some time, his daughter became your daughter, too, and eight months into dating, Joel was positive you were it for him, and he was it for you, him seeing how much you loved Sarah, he asked if maybe she should have a sibling—you’d happily agreed she needed a couple, and didn’t bother refilling your birth control.

It made his chest ache how he dreamed of having a house full of kids with you—how you’d been so excited and nervous, making a plan for how you’d handle completing your residency to become a doctor and the possibility of getting pregnant.

There ended up being no point in worrying about it because six months later, the Outbreak happened, and Joel experienced the worst day of his life.

That was years ago, and he’s finally started to heal. It is no longer excruciatingly painful to talk about Sarah, happy to remember her, happy now to have someone to remember her with and keep her memory alive.

And just like how you’d taken a shine to his daughter, here you are with Ellie, treating her the same, understanding without him having to tell you that they’re a package deal.

His feelings from before haven’t changed, he knew you were it then, and he knows you’re it now, you willing to die for the young girl cementing in him that you’re the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, and it was about damn time he finally asked you to marry him.

Christ, he’s so fucking happy you said yes.

“You’d think after the first failed attempt at a dinosaur theme park,” Ellie says, “they’d realize it’s not a good fucking idea.”

“People are stupid when they’re greedy,” you reply.

“People are just plain stupid,” Joel adds.

You snort.

“That is also true,” you say.

He was stupid not to ask you to be his wife the moment you agreed to have his children, mentally kicking himself in the ass for wanting to wait for your internship to end. It was a dumb decision, but he’s making up for it and marrying you the first chance he has, positive Tommy will have someone to officiate.

Things now are different than they were in 2003.

There’s no societal pressure in regards to marriage. FEDRA sure as fuck doesn’t care about the institution. There are no places to buy rings and no big wedding celebrations; it’s just not something many do anymore, not seeing the point with how fucked everything is. People still get married, of course, but it’s a personal choice to show their commitment to each other—there’s no official process, no red tape. Some say vows to one another, others just start referring to their partner as husband or wife; you can find a person to officiate, but it’ll usually cost you some ration cards for a man or woman of God to seal your commitment.

Joel wants to do it the old-fashioned way—he’s always been old-fashioned, hoping Jackson has a minister or someone ordained to marry you both, though he’ll be fine if it’s just the two of you making your promises to each other with Ellie and Tommy as witnesses.

It’s important to him they’re there, and he knows you’ll want them there, too.

He focuses back on you and Ellie talking, happy she has someone else to socialize with and ask all of her questions; it makes him smile that you’re doing your damnedest to answer them.

“I swear this is a serious question,” the teenager says.

“I’ve thought all of your questions have been serious,” you respond, smiling at her. “Especially when you asked who’d win in a fight between a T-Rex and a triceratops, and I still say triceratops—they’d stab the hell out of the T-Rex.”

“I accept your wrong answer.”

“Agree to disagree. Now, what’s this serious question?”

“Right. What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?”

“So-fish-ticated,” Joel answers immediately.

Her head swivels toward him.

“You asshole!” she exclaims. “How the fuck do you know these?”

“It’s a dad joke!” you laugh.

“What’s a dad joke?” she asks, her attention turning to you.

“Really terrible, dumb jokes dads tell their kids to annoy them.”

“They aren’t dumb…” Joel mumbles.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, babe,” you say. “I love them—tell Ellie the ocean and beach one. It’s my favorite.”

“What did the ocean say to the beach?” he asks Ellie.

She looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing, it just waved.”

She splutters into a laugh, making him smile.

“That’s so fucking dumb!”

“Dad jokes,” you say. “One time I asked him if he got a haircut, and without missing a beat, he answered, ‘No, I got them all cut.’”

“A fucking smartass,” she replies.

“A dad,” you correct. “I love his dad humor. It’s cute.”

You meet his eyes, smiling at him, and warmth spreads through his body.

The conversation continues between them, Joel only offering his two cents occasionally or grumbling when Ellie makes a jabbing remark at him, the kid constantly giving him shit.

The route you’re on, he and Ellie went down months before to get to the Firefly hospital, and at the time, it’d been clear of infected since it’s in the middle of nowhere and up in the mountains. You’re all still on alert in case of bandits or hunters, but hours pass as you walk along the asphalt, passing old abandoned cars overgrown with vegetation, with no signs of any other humans.

Every few hours, breaks are taken, and his knees are aching by the time you make it to the ridge overlooking the town down in the valley, the place surrounded by tall log walls to keep the townspeople safe.

Now that it’s the home stretch, Joel’s mind is replaying your words from the previous night, how you said after he’s showered, you’ll want to hole up in a bedroom and not leave for a day or two—having him fuck you over and over so you’ll feel him for days. His pants are feeling a little tight, thinking about how fucking good your pussy tasted, wanting to spread you out on a bed and eat you out until you beg him to stop. Fuck, you taste so good when you come. He could spend hours between your legs, has spent hours there, making you come so many times you were a whimpering, boneless mess by the time he was done.

And you said he can finish inside you, the thought making him sweat. He loves filling you up and fucking his come so deep inside you, so you’re dripping with him—dreams of how your cunt clenches up at the first spurt, locking him there so he can’t move, feeling how you need him, how you want him to fill every nook and cranny with himself.

God, when there was a chance it’d take, Joel would lose his fucking mind at the thought of you growing his baby. It made him harder than a fucking rock at the prospect of his seed taking root, coming so damn hard he’d go cross-eyed.

That wasn’t a possibility now, but he’s changed; it making him just as hard knowing he doesn’t have to worry about knocking you up, that he can fill you over and over without there being any consequences—something he hasn’t done since the last time he was nestled deep in the tight confines of your pussy because Joel didn’t want to risk it, couldn’t risk it, not after everything he’s been through.

He’s walking a little faster as you approach the town gate, wanting to get to whatever accommodation his brother offers as quickly as possible, getting annoyed when the men up in the guard tower won’t let you all in, Joel demanding they get Tommy.

His hands are clenching, feeling impatient. You sidle up next to him, standing beside him.

“I guess we didn’t make the VIP list,” you say, patting his arm.

He sighs, turning his head to meet your eyes, sliding his hand over the small of your back to grab your hip.

“You’d think Tommy woulda fuckin’ told them to look out for me or somethin’,” he replies, frowning.

“Or, maybe Tommy told them his brother would be returning with a girl, and me being here is causing red flags.”

“That could be it. My brother will fix whatever the fuck is goin’ on.”

“I know he will. Can’t wait to see that asshole.”

He smiles.

“He’ll be excited to see you, too.”

“I can’t wait to have hot food,” Ellie says, both of you looking at her. “And hopefully, Tommy and Maria will be cool and let me use their shower. I’m smelly.” Her nose crinkles.

“Hi, smelly, I’m Joel,” he deadpans.

“You’re so fucking lame. How have your jokes gotten worse?”

“You mean better?”

“No, I mean worse—your jokes are as bad as you smell. Like holy shit, dude, you need a shower more than me.”

He frowns, knowing he needs a good scrub.

“On the bright side,” Ellie continues, “it’s pretty fucking clear that you guys are really in love since Doc doesn’t seem to mind you reek and are filthy as fuck.” She makes a face. “It’s some true love shit, like this one kid’s book I read where a girl falls in love with this ugly ass beast—” She raises her hands above her head, making them look like claws. “—but obviously Joel isn’t gonna become some handsome prince after he showers—he’ll be just as hideous but clean.” Her arms fall to her sides.

His eyes narrow.

“Did you just call me the fuckin’ beast from Beauty and the Beast?”

Sarah loved those cartoon Disney movies when she was little; Joel and her watching the mermaid one so many times they wore out the VHS.

“Oh my god, you think we’re a fairytale couple?” you ask, sounding delighted.

He looks at you with narrowed eyes, seeing you grinning.

“Yeah!” Ellie exclaims. “Beauty and the Beast! I don’t know why you’re mad, Joel. The beast was a grumpy asshole; you’re a grumpy asshole; the beast falls in love and gets all soft; you’re in love and disgustingly soft.”

He sighs because she isn’t wrong, and it’s really fucking irritating.

The doors finally push open after some minutes, the familiar figure of his brother standing on the other side as you all start making your way toward him, Joel keeping his hand on your lower back.

Tommy’s eyes are locked on you, a furrow in his brow, clearly not expecting another person with him and Ellie. Joel smiles when recognition hits the other man, seeing the shock, followed by his face lighting up.

“Holy shit!” Tommy shouts. “Am I fuckin’ seein’ things, or is that you, Doc?”

The first time you met his brother, Tommy was shocked to find out you were a doctor—not because you’re a woman, the Miller boys were raised to respect women, but because you were so young, and like many other Texans, he started calling you ‘Doc,’ instead of your actual name as an honor and to be a little shit to Joel, a way to remind him you were way out of his league—younger, smarter, and you’re so fucking beautiful he still can’t believe you gave him a shot.

Joel’s sure it made you happy that Ellie decided to use it as a nickname for you, too.

You’ve got a beaming smile on your face when you answer, “It’s me!”

Tommy moves quick, his arms wrapping around you in a big bear hug, squeezing you so hard he lifts you from the ground, making you laugh. He sets you down, leaning back to get a good look at your face, smiling.

“Fuck, it’s good to see you alive—you haven’t aged a bit. Can’t believe it’s been over twenty fuckin’ years.”

“It’s crazy, but I’m sorry, Tommy, you’ve gotten old—look at those grey hairs,” you tease.

He throws his head back as he laughs.

Looking at you again, he says, “You’re givin’ me shit about some grey hairs and lookin’ old—how do you feel about how Joel’s aged?” Tommy nods his head toward him.

Of course, he’s fishing for information, the nosey bastard.

“Oh, Joel’s aged like the finest wine.” That has Joel perking up. “The sexiest man I have ever seen and looks so fucking good. Like, have you seen his ass? There’s so much more of it now, and I just wanna—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tommy cuts you off. “I don’t need to hear all that.”

“Me either,” Ellie adds, sounding disgusted.

“I wanna know,” Joel says, his chest puffing out a little that you still want him in his current state.

Tommy looks at him, saying, “Of course you do, you fuckin’ horndog. So, I’m assumin’ y’all are together again?”

“I’m marryin’ her,” Joel answers, smiling.

“Wow,” Ellie says. “Why am I not even surprised?”

“You finally asked her?” Tommy asks, grinning.

“I did.” Joel nods.

“And she fuckin’ agreed to marry your grumpy ass?”

Joel glares.

“As I stated,” you start. “I quite like his grumpy ass, thank you very much. And I did say yes.”

It made those damn butterflies flutter in his stomach hearing you say that.

“How long have y'all been back together?”

“A day,” the three of you answer simultaneously.

Tommy’s eyes get big.

“A day?” He whistles lowly. “Well, I’ll be damned, a day and you’re already gettin’ hitched.” He shrugs, “When you know, you know, and the world is fucked up, might as well spend whatever time you have remainin’ bein’ happy.”

“Yeah,” Joel replies. “You got a minister or someone to officiate?”

Tommy grins. “I happen to know just the guy. Let’s get y'all settled, though. Had a house readied for you—knew you’d be comin’ back. Expected the girl, but Doc is a welcome surprise.” He hugs you again before stepping back to lead you all inside.

When he and Ellie were here last, they didn’t get to explore the town much—too preoccupied with finding out the location of the Fireflies, Joel originally planning to have Tommy take her but changed his mind at the last moment.

He’s glad he took her, fucking relieved, because if it had been his brother, there’s no doubt in his mind she would’ve died, and Joel would have been left to carry it on his conscious along with all of the other fucked up choices he’s made in his life.

All of the choices he’s made about Ellie have been right.

Taking her from Boston.

Getting her to the Fireflies.

Saving her life.

Murdering the bastards to keep her safe.

Bringing her to Jackson to give her a chance at getting to be a kid.

He wouldn’t change a single one because she’s here with him and still living, and that’s all that fucking matters.

The town has many residential homes, a main street containing stores, a bar, places to eat, an old church with a looming bell tower, markets, greenhouses, a school, and a farm complete with livestock, the primary mode of transportation horseback—may Callus, the horse they rode on their trip to the Fireflies, rest in peace.

It’s truly impressive how self-sustaining the community is, not needing many outside supplies and powered by a hydroelectric dam nearby.

As Maria tells it, she and a group established this settlement some years earlier, and they’ve done a good job rehabbing all of the buildings and making the place feel like it hasn’t been touched by all the carnage outside the walls protecting it.

“This is the house,” his brother says, you all standing on the sidewalk in front of a two-story craftsman-style home that, if Joel had to guess, was built in the mid to late 1970s. Tommy gives him a hard stare. “We don’t have an abundance of homes to offer and make sure to match the needs of who arrives. Two bedrooms for Ellie and you, but I’m sure you’re more than willin’ to share with Doc. I chose this one ‘cause after checkin’ it out, I don’t think your eye will twitch at shoddy craftsmanship—if you hate it, I don’t care.”

“It’s perfect, Tommy,” Joel replies. “I’m not gonna complain about you givin’ us a roof over our heads and a place to sleep. I’m fuckin’ grateful.”

His brother smiles.

“Damn straight you are. Let me show you inside.”

It’s two bedrooms, like Tommy said, and three baths. The place is picked clean of decorations, but he’s impressed with the built-in bookshelves lining a wall in the living room.

There’s nothing to complain about, and he wouldn’t if there was, truthfully he really is grateful to have a place he can call home and live with you and Ellie.

But anywhere is home with the both of you. It’s just nice there are beds, plumbing, electricity, and heat.

The rooms contain essential furniture to make the place livable; Tommy says the bathrooms are stocked with necessities, the kitchen with basic cookware, and the bedding on both beds are clean—he’d have someone bring groceries the following day. Ellie put her backpack on the bed of the smaller room down the hall and past a bathroom to the master bedroom.

The tour ends in the backyard, where there’s an old garage that’s been converted into a one-bedroom studio apartment with its own kitchenette and bathroom; the place is empty. You’re standing beside Joel, Ellie on his other side.

“We planned on givin’ this to a single person who might come through, but if Ellie doesn’t like the idea of livin’ in the house and wants her own space, she can have it. We’d just need to get her some furniture, which wouldn’t be too hard.”

“That’d be fuckin’ awesome!” she exclaims. “I’m assuming you’ve been around these two when they’re together—” She points her thumb at you and Joel “—and you know how vomit-inducing they are? I’d like to avoid my ears bleeding or fuck, having to stab my eyes out 'cause I saw shit I didn’t want to see.”

Tommy laughs, and Joel sighs.

“Yeah, kid, they’re fuckin’ ridiculous! I caught them in my truck once—my fuckin’ truck! Made Joel pay to have it professionally cleaned—” It was worth the money. “I lost count of how many times I had to save…” he trails off, suddenly looking uncomfortable, his hand scratching at the back of his neck.

Joel feels like shit that Tommy thinks he can’t mention Sarah after how he’d refused the photo of her and him the last time he was here. He knows it doesn’t help that he’s spent years actively avoiding bringing her up and shutting down when Tommy mentioned her in the past.

“Tommy would take Sarah out,” Joel finishes for his brother, the other man looking surprised. “He’d pick her up and get her out of the house. She loved it 'cause he’d take her to movies and see shit she wasn’t allowed to watch at home.”

“‘Cause, you’re no fun. She was a big kid—always had a blast.”

Joel looks at him pointedly.

“Except for that one time you took her to see that damn scary movie, where she was afraid for a fuckin’ week that a girl was gonna come through the tv and kill her.”

That whole week, Joel had to sit on her bed for her to fall asleep, stroking her hair like when she was little.

“Okay, that was on me,” Tommy says, putting up his hands in defeat. “It was PG-13. I didn’t think it’d be that bad.”

“You slept on my couch for two nights.”

“As I told you then, my heat was out.”

“You’re a fuckin’ liar.”

“Anyways,” Tommy says, changing the subject. “We can figure out furniture for Ellie this week. I’m sure we can find extra shit. Now—” His attention turns to her “—how about I give you a better look at the town, introduce you to some kids around your age, and we meet up with Maria for dinner—she’d love to catch up with you.”

“Oh, thank god,” she replies. “Would Maria mind if I crash on your couch tonight? After what I heard last night, I’d prefer to be out of earshot for a good twenty-four hours for them to either run out of energy or, you know, Joel breaks a hip or something.”

Joel’s eyes go wide, not believing what she just said.

He thinks he’s in pretty great shape for his age—the knees, back, and hearing issues aside—there’s no fucking way he’d break a goddamn hip.

“Break a hip?” Joel asks. “I’m not that fuckin’ old!”

You pat his arm as you say, “Babe, you’d qualify for a senior discount.” His head snaps toward you, seeing the amusement on your face, Joel’s mouth opening and closing like a fish, not sure what to say because he feels ganged up on and betrayed. Tommy and Ellie are laughing their asses off, but he notices the shift in your eyes, that little look you get when you’re about to say something he’s really going to like, his mouth closing. “But,” you continue. Oh, he knows that look, his heart picking up when you squeeze his bicep.”I don’t care how old you are.” You’ve dipped into that sultry tone that makes his pants get a little tighter, Joel swallowing hard. “I still wanna fuck you. Very badly.”

He has to hold back the groan with the way you’re giving him ‘fuck me’ eyes, it evident that you do want him.

“Well, it’s time for us to go, kid,” Tommy announces, ushering her away. “Maria won’t mind you sleepin’ on the couch. Let’s grab your stuff before they get inside, and you know…”

“Disgusting,” she replies.

“I’ll have food and clothes left by the front door for when y'all come up for air,” Tommy calls to you both.

“Thanks, Tommy,” Joel replies, not bothering to look at his brother, instead, his gaze stuck on you.

He can hear their receding footsteps, focused on staring at you, feeling the air shift, your eyes darkening. He licks his lips, his fingers itching to touch you. Turning toward you, he grabs your hips to make you face him, smiling when you suck in a breath as he pulls you into him.

His voice goes lower, “You wanna fuck me?” he asks, seeing you visibly shiver. It makes something inside him purr that you’re so affected by him.

“Yes.” You nod. “I do.”

Leaning in close, he nudges his nose against yours.

“I wanna fuck you, too,” he rasps. “Miss how your tight little pussy feels around my dick. Wanna be inside you.” His lips ghost over yours. “You want that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, your answer making his dick twitch. He knows you’re waiting for him to kiss you, sure your heart is pounding in your chest. He pulls back, smirking as you gasp in surprise.

“We better shower then,” he says, smacking your ass and making you squeak.

Your eyes narrow, poking him in the chest.

“You’re a fucking tease, Joel Miller!”

He grabs your hand, chuckling as he kisses your knuckles. He loves when you get needy.

“I’m your tease, baby.” He winks. “And it’s fuckin’ payback for callin’ me a goddamn senior citizen. I’m gonna show you how well my hips work when I’m fuckin’ you into the mattress.”

“Is that a promise?”

He smiles.

“You know damn well it is,” he answers. “Now, let’s get in there. They should be gone by now.”

He can’t help that he practically drags you by the hand he’s holding, too excited to get you naked and under him, as he leads you up the back porch and into your new home.

All of your gear is discarded on the master bedroom floor, and once it’s off your bodies, the nerves kick in—worried he won’t like you naked or that after all these years, you’ll be bad at sex. He’s nervous, too; you can tell by how tense he is, refusing to look you in the eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you break the silence, “I’ll take a shower first,” you say, pointing at the en suite.

He finally meets your gaze, nodding, “Okay.”

You’re just in your dirty scrubs, squeezing his arm before heading to the bathroom, the door shutting with a soft click behind you.

Logically, you know you have no reason to be nervous—Joel loves you and everything about you, yet the doubt is still there in your brain. What if you don’t measure up to the women he’s been with since everything went to hell? What if he finds he’s no longer attracted to you now that you’re older and not as perky as you once were? The thoughts are swirling in your brain as you strip and start the shower, getting in when it heats up with a clean washcloth in hand.

Your hair’s washed, and you know you shouldn’t, but while scrubbing your body with the soaped-up rag, you wonder what Tess looked like. Was she younger than you? Older? Prettier? He said he couldn’t love her, but he had found her attractive enough to fuck her.

You’re rinsing the suds from your skin, lost in thought, when the shower curtain is roughly pulled open, gasping in surprise, dropping the washcloth while your hands come up, ready to fight. You only have a second to realize it’s Joel before his broad palms grab your face, stepping into the tub as he crushes his mouth against yours.

He’s naked, your heart hammering in your chest, moaning as he eagerly presses his tongue into your mouth, backing you up into the shower wall opposite the falling water. You hiss at the coldness against your back, Joel desperately tasting every bit of you he can, his hands moving down your body to touch you, grab you, feel your skin, anything he can touch. You wrap your arms around his waist, letting him explore—palming your bare breasts, sliding along your tummy and back, his fingers taking notice of your scars, and grabbing handfuls of your ass.

Coming up for air, his lips are on your jaw.

“God, I’ve fuckin’ missed you,” he husks, squeezing your clean tits together, all of your earlier worries vanishing, now replaced with unbridled desire. Bending down, he pulls a nipple into his mouth, making you moan at the shock of pleasure that shoots through your core. He laves at your hardened bud, then moves to the other to give it the same attention, pushing your fingers into his wet hair.

Your toes are curled, arousal burning in your belly, while he worships your breasts, licking and biting at them, one then the other, over and over.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan. “I love this, but can you please wash up so I can touch you.”

He comes off your nipple with a pop, moving his head to kiss you quickly. Joel turns toward the water, shutting the shower curtain, groaning as he bends to pick up the washcloth. Your eyes are locked on his back when he straightens, seeing the muscles move as he leans to grab the soap bar to lather the towel and start scrubbing himself down, taking his time to ensure he gets every bit of skin he can reach, being thorough.

The freckles you remember are still there on the expanse of his back, constellations scattered over his golden skin, but there are now scars littered amongst them—some faded from age, others newer, one round and about the size of a golf ball that you could tell is only a few years old. He bends at the waist to wash his legs and feet, and when he stands back up, you reach out to gently press your fingertips to it, Joel tensing.

“What caused this one?” you ask.

“Fell on rebar.”

Your eyes go wide.

“Fell on rebar…?” you ask slowly. “Did it go all the way through?” He turns to face you, his skin pink from how hard he scrubbed, your eyes immediately seeing the twin scar on his torso, touching that one, too. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you gasp. “You’re so fucking lucky it didn’t puncture anything important.” You’re thinking of the organs it narrowly missed, shocked he even survived. There's another wound on his stomach that's recent, and whoever sewed it up was inexperienced. "That new one on your stomach happened on the road," you murmur. “Did it get infected?” You meet his gaze, seeing him frowning.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Can you wash my back?” Handing you the washcloth that he washed and soaped back up.

“Of course,” you reply, accepting it and smiling because he always asked you to get his back when you lived in Texas. He faces the water again, and you get to work, moving the cloth over his shoulders and spine while he washes his hair. “How’d you treat the infection?” you ask, making sure all of the golden skin in front of you is sudsy.

“Antibiotics.”

“Must’ve been hard to find,” you mused.

“Very.”

You finish up, happy to see his skin pinked up like his front. “Done,” you say.

“Thank Christ.”

He turns quickly, his hair slicked back, rinsing the soap off his body, and shutting off the water when he’s done, turning his attention to you. Now thoroughly clean, he plucks the washcloth from your hand and lets it drop onto the floor without a single care. He’s on you, invading your space, his hand cradling your jaw as his lips descend onto yours in a devastating kiss that has you moaning when he’s licking into your mouth. It’s all tongues and teeth—biting, sucking, licking, Joel caging you in against the tiled wall, his body pressing into yours, feeling the hard line of his cock between your bodies, while his other hand explores your skin.

“I want you so fuckin’ bad,” his words are muffled into your lips as he grabs your ass.

Your cunt is throbbing, needing him inside you.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you all but beg.

“God, I love hearin’ you say that,” he groans. His hand moves between your legs, sliding his fingers through your folds, your hands digging into his shoulders for something to hold onto, the air thick from humidity and anticipation. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—need you to come.” He circles your clit with two fingers, sparks of pleasure igniting in your belly, gasping his name.

He knows how you like it, remembers how to get you off fast, soft sounds spilling from your mouth when he presses one thick finger inside you easily, followed by another, pumping them while his thumb works your sensitive little clit. They feel so good, canting your hips into his hand, panting breaths, your fingernails imprinting half-moons into his skin.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunts. “Gotta open you up.” Your arousal is dripping down your thighs as he pushes in a third finger, making you mewl at the stretch. You feel so full, Joel pushing them in and out, filling you over and over, getting you closer and closer to your release. His other hand squeezes your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his fingers, your legs squirming at all the pleasure he’s bringing you.

He’s kissing you again, your brain buzzing, electricity thrumming under your skin, the heat building in your core, getting hotter and thicker. Joel works you up until he crooks his fingers to find that spongy spot inside you that makes you see God. He pinches at your stiff peak, his fingers inside you finally finding that sacred place, your body tensing up with a gasp.

“There it fuckin’ is,” he says. “Come on, baby lemme have it—lemme feel your little pussy soak my fingers. Come for me.”

He focuses on the spot, his fingers squelching in and out of you from your arousal spilling around them, Joel rubbing against it fast, rough, while tweaking your nipple until euphoria crashes over you, crying out his name as you come.

“My good fuckin’ girl,” his voice is hoarse. “You get so fuckin’ wet when you come.”

His fingers keep working for you to ride out your high, hearing the sounds get wetter between your legs, enjoying the waves of pleasure that have your limbs tingling.

When your breaths even out and pussy stops fluttering, he removes his hand, your eyes opening to find him looking at you with a hungry gaze, seeing the want so evident in the dark pools.

“You want me to fuck you?” he rasps.

Heat floods your system, cunt clenching at the thought of him inside you. It’s been so fucking long, and you’re craving it, wanting it with every fiber of your being.

“Yes,” you answer, nodding. “Please.”

Your back is pressing into the tile, Joel not wasting another second to lean down and hook an elbow under your knee, lifting it to spread you open, balancing on the ball of your other foot, and wrapping your arms around his neck. You know he’s got you; not afraid of falling. His eyes lock on your center, seeing you glisten with slick, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip.

His cock is so hard the tip is an angry red and weeping precum. You watch as he spits on his fingers, moaning when he spreads the saliva over your sopping hole, getting his digits wet again to coat his dick.

Your body vibrates in anticipation, sucking in a breath when he presses to your entrance. He starts pushing in, and your eyes roll back in your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat.

Time stops.

You’re lost in the sensations, his thick cock stretching you to your limits, savoring the slight burn, Joel crashing his lips against yours, moaning into your mouth.

It feels like you’re burning inside, every nerve in your body lit up like the fourth of July, and you can’t breathe, feeling like you’re being split open.

He bottoms out, his dick pushed in deep, taking up so much space that you feel unbelievably full—something coming over you at how fucking perfect it feels, how right. This is where he’s meant to be, his cock nestled inside you, joining you together, not wanting him to ever leave.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” his words come out strained against your lips, breathing hard. “I’m not gonna last. Oh shit, you feel too fuckin’ good—I missed this, I missed you. Your pussy is squeezin’ me so tight, takin’ me so fuckin’ well. Fuck.”

Oh, he’s just as lost as you are.

You finally take a breath.

“Use me,” you croak out. “Fuck me until you come—fill me up.”

He whines, his cock jerking inside you, and then he’s moving, desperately rutting into you over and over, groaning as he keeps pounding to chase his bliss.

He’s pushing you up the wall with his hard strokes, whimpering at how he’s filling you again and again. His lips attack yours in lust, pushing his tongue into your mouth to tangle with your own, Joel fucking into you hard and fast, the slap of his hips echoing in the small space.

Quickly his rhythm gets sloppy, his breaths shakey, knowing he’s close to his end, and it’s no surprise when he slams into you one last time, coming with a long, rumbling groan, feeling him gush inside you. He rolls his hips, fucking his come as deep as possible, hissing from the overstimulation until he finally stills.

His head falls into the crook of your neck, panting hot breaths into your skin.

The two of you stay like that for minutes, your fingers sliding into his wet hair, scratching lovingly at his scalp, Joel humming happily, your heartbeats slowing down together.

His mouth makes a path up your neck, kissing your skin along your jaw to get to your lips to kiss you tenderly.

Pulling back, his cheeks are flushed, looking you in the eyes with a soft smile.

He’s hoarse when he says, “Haven’t come that quick since I was a fuckin’ teenager.”

You smile, pushing his hair back with your fingers.

“It’s honestly very flattering you couldn’t last—makes me feel like I still got it.”

“Oh, you still got it, baby,” he replies, kissing you. “You more than got it.” He puts your leg down, pulling out of you with a hiss. Breaking the kiss, he takes a step back, eyes on his hands as he rubs them up your belly to squeeze your breasts, pushing them together. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy—love your tits.” He can’t help himself, leaning down to suck a nipple into his mouth, leaving you gasping at the sensation.

“I know you love my tits,” you reply.

He comes off you with a wet pop to look you in the eyes.

“They're gorgeous,” he says.

His fingers ghost down your ribs, his attention going back to your body, not expecting when he crouches down, pressing his face into your tummy.

“Love your body—so soft.” His voice is muffled in your skin. You suck in a breath when he presses his lips to a ragged scar on your lower abdomen. He kisses another at your hip and one over your ribs; with each new one he finds, he places a soft kiss, which has your eyes burning. “Love your scars.”

“Why would you love my scars?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

His head tilts up to look at you.

“They mean you’ve fought like hell to survive. Evidence of how fuckin’ strong you are.”

“That’s so fucking sweet.”

He stands back up with a groan.

“Hope you don’t mind mine,” he says. “I know my body isn’t what it used to be.”

Moving closer to him, you lean in to kiss the silvery scar on his face, Joel’s eyes closing as he shivers.

“I love your scars, too,” you reply, moving down to kiss one on his chest, then another you find, and another, Joel trembling. “I know you’ve fought like hell to survive, too.” Lowering, you press your lips to one over his belly button. “These are all just reminders that you’re alive, you’ve survived—” You kiss the newer one from his fall on rebar. “—you told death to get fucked, because you needed to live to fulfill your purpose in life.”

He pulls you up, his hand sliding over your cheek to cradle your face.

“To be here to love you?” he asks.

“No.” You shake your head. “To protect the people you care about and love them when nobody else will. Ellie might be a pain in your ass, but she��s your kid now, and you’re the only person she has. Apparently, you, Joel Miller—” You poke his bare chest “—are a girl dad. Which is so cute. Sarah would be proud of all you’ve done for Ellie.”

There are tears in his eyes.

“I couldn’t let her die,” he says thickly. “Not after losin’ Sarah, not when I had a shot at savin’ her—woulda died tryin’, 'cause you’re right, Ellie is my kid and a big pain in my ass,” he chuckles. “But I still care about her, even if all she does is give me shit.”

You snort.

“That’s how teenagers are.”

“That they are. You’re wrong about somethin’, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not the only person she’s got—she has you, too.”

“That’s true. She makes my maternal instincts go haywire—feel the need to protect and take care of her.”

He strokes your cheek, smiling sweetly.

“You would’ve been a great mom.”

Sadness washes through you, making your throat go so tight it’s a struggle to swallow.

For twenty years, you’ve mourned the life you could’ve had, knowing just how close you’d gotten to being a mother and having it ripped away by the Outbreak happening. You lost so much, and you let your grief get the better of you, taking drastic measures to ensure you could never become pregnant… again. The only thing that kept you going was the hope you’d find Joel and Sarah, and as the years went on, it became harder and harder to believe you’d come across them, changing your reason to continue surviving with wanting to find a cure to save people. That’s the key to keeping your will to live in such a desolate fucking world—always have something that keeps you fighting, find a purpose, anything that makes you want to wake up the next day, and not give up.

Joel would never know he lost two children in 2003, it would devastate him, and there’s no point in adding to his suffering—he’s been through enough.

You’ve had time to grieve and heal; it’s all in the past and something you try not to dwell on, not ruminating on what could have been, only focusing on the now.

Traditional motherhood may not have been in the cards for you, but you’d gotten over a year with Sarah, who was like a daughter to you, loving her immensely, and doing your best to be a positive female role model, always there when she needed you. You want to be that for Ellie, too. She’s been in your life for a day, and you already care about her, happy to be there for her however she wants.

You’re getting a chance to raise another teenager with Joel, and that’s enough.

It’s more than enough.

“You’re thinkin’ awfully hard,” he says, taking you from your thoughts.

“Sorry.”

His eyebrows pinch together.

“You okay, baby?”

Smiling reassuringly, you nod as you answer, “Yeah, I’m great.” You need to get your mind on something else, rubbing your hands up his wet chest—God, he’s so broad. “Now, I think I was telling you how much I love your body.”

He smirks.

“You said somethin’ about my ass earlier.”

Your palms slide to his back and down to grab handfuls of said backside.

“Oh, yes. I love your ass very much.” You squeeze his flesh to punctuate the sentence, making him chuckle. “Like, my god, I can’t believe how much bigger you are.” Feeling up his back, his muscles play under your palms, resting them over his shoulder blades. “And your shoulders. Fuck, babe, you’re hot and look so fucking good. You’ve still got it, too—I’m wet just looking at you,” you say with a wink.

His hands move to grab your ass, his eyes going dark.

“You sure you’re wet, or is it my come drippin’ outta you?”

You smile, twining your arms around his neck.

“Both. Now, let’s wash off and take this party to the bed,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows.

“I like how you think,” he replies, kissing you quickly.

After a quick rinse, towels were found under the sink—not as fluffy as the ones at Bill and Frank’s, but they got the job done, drying off quickly and discarding them in a pile on the ground. He stands with his hip against the bathroom counter, his arms crossed, smiling while he watches you tend to your hair as he’d done hundreds of times before, and it makes him feel so fucking warm doing it again.

“I told you,” he says.

You glance at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Told me what?” you ask.

“That you didn’t need all those damn creams and serums you put all over your face and body every night—you’re still fuckin’ beautiful without ‘em.”

“If I had my damn creams and serums, I wouldn’t look so fucking old!” you laugh.

His eyebrows pinch together, frowning.

“Stop that. You don’t look fuckin’ old. I’ll tell you as often as it takes to make you believe me when I say you’re fuckin’ sexy.”

“Stop being sweet. You’ll make me fall even more in love with you,” you reply with a wink.

He smirks.

“Good.”

Once you’ve finished your hair, he can’t help himself, making you giggle when he moves behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, kissing your shoulder and neck as you both walk awkwardly into the bedroom, him tackling you onto the mattress.

It’s a queen size bed, a thick navy blue comforter on top over cream-colored sheets that had seen better days. Turning you to face him, he cups your jaw, taking in how you look with your wet hair, big smile, and those eyes he loves so much—they’re gorgeous, you’re gorgeous. Even after all these years, he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he whispers out loud, staring in awe.

And you’re here.

The happiness has him kissing you hard enough to steal the air from your lungs before you can respond. He needs to feel you, tracing his palm down your side and back, your hand wandering over him like you need the same thing—physical evidence that you’re both real.

He presses his tongue between your lips, and your fingers dig into his shoulder, moaning into his mouth as you welcome him to slide it along your own in practiced movements. He’s touching all of your warm skin, feeling the familiarity but also the changes, cherishing each scar he feels or the hardness of muscle in places that used to be soft, knowing it’s all proof of your survival and strength.

Joel has you naked and clean, and for the moment, he just wants to lie here kissing and feeling you, take his time to just enjoy the two of you being back together—there are no threats, no time crunch, no risk of a fourteen-year-old girl interrupting, it’s just you both in the safety of your new home, finally being able to relax.

There’s still a loaded gun on the bedside table, more nearby on the floor because old habits die hard even though it’s a relatively safe place—he’ll always be paranoid. It’s what happens when you live in an apocalypse, you have to be prepared, or you’ll die.

He’s as relaxed as he can be, his right ear pressed to the mattress, hearing from the left your soft moans, loving how your hand feels on him, and the familiar press of your lips slotting against his so perfectly, not wanting to stop kissing you, wishing he could stay like this forever.

Minutes pass, his hand sliding between your legs, feeling you wet and warm, shifting his hunger.

You’re panting when his mouth kisses your jaw, hearing you suck in a breath when his teeth nibble on your chin.

“Can I lick your pussy?” he purrs.

“You didn’t get enough when I sat on your face last night?”

“Nope,” he chuckles, nuzzling into your cheek. “Missed it. You taste so fuckin’ good, I could eat it for hours, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling on his head to make him look at you, a smirk on your pretty face.

“It’s nice to know that the world ending hasn’t curbed your addiction to eating pussy,” you tease.

He frowns.

“I, uh, haven’t done it since you…” he replies, swallowing hard.

It isn’t something he’d wanted to do with anyone else, it felt far too intimate. Sex for him was always quick and a means to an end, the only foreplay being his fingers to make sure his partner was wet enough to take him. It was hard enough fucking other people, the first couple of times, he couldn’t even finish, learning that if he put them on their knees, closed his eyes, and imagined it was you, he could get there.

Tess didn’t mind… at first because she was thinking of someone else, too, moaning her dead husband’s name the first time Joel made her come while fucking her from behind. They were using each other, they knew they were using each other to try and feel close to the people they’d lost, but something changed after many years had passed, and it felt like he’d been doused in cold water when his name fell from her lips.

There was an understanding from the beginning that there would never be anything more between them—he wasn’t over losing the love of his life, and she’d been in the same boat with the loss of her husband. After about ten years of being together, she developed feelings, and Joel didn’t, knowing he never would. Sure, he loved Tess, but it wasn’t the same way he loved you. It could never be the same way he loved you; no matter how much he tried to convince himself he needed to move on, he couldn’t. He’d tell her no when she’d ask him to be on top until he finally relented with the room pitch black and your face on his brain.

Even after all the time she was with him, he never tasted her. He didn’t want to, knew it wouldn’t be the same, and he was already giving her more than he wanted; that would be too much, knowing it’d cause him to feel guilt and sadness, so he avoided it.

He sees the surprise on your face at his admission, your eyes rounding.

“Oh…”

“Yeah… Just didn’t seem right.”

“No, I get it. Yours is the last dick I sucked.”

His lips turn up.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Between lack of personal hygiene and the fact you have the perfect dick, I wasn’t sucking anybody else off.”

“You really think it’s perfect?”

Your hand strokes his cheek, Joel leaning into the touch. “Babe, I fantasize about your dick. The only way I can get off is if I think about it and you.”

He cups your cunt, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss.

“You’ve got the perfect pussy,” he murmurs into your mouth. He pulls back to look you in the eyes. “For twenty fuckin’ years, I’ve only come thinkin’ about you, rememberin’ how it felt to be inside you, touchin’ you, fuck, how you taste—fucked my hand so many goddamn times thinkin’ about my head buried between your thighs.”

“God,” you gasp.

“It’s Joel, but close.” He smirks.

You laugh, slapping his chest playfully, and it makes him grin.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me,” he replies, grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on each of your knuckles.

You smile sweetly.

“I do. Very much.”

“I love you, too.” He gives you a quick kiss, meeting your eyes when he asks, “Now, may I please lick your pussy? Got years I gotta make up for.”

“You’re just fuckin’ jonesing for a taste,” you giggle. “Of course, babe. You can eat me out and get your fill, but I get to suck your dick after. I just wanna choke on it, you know?”

His cock twitches, stifling a groan at remembering how good your mouth felt around him.

He smiles, chuckling as he says, “Still hungry for my dick.” He kisses you. “You wanna choke on it, and I wanna drown in your pussy. We’re a match made in heaven.”

You snort.

“Yes, we are,” you reply, smoothing your fingers through his wet hair.

His mouth trails open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He needs to get you in a better position, knowing he can’t kneel on the floor like he used to due to his knees being fucked, so he pushes you onto your back, wrapping an arm around your middle and using his strength to tug you up into the middle of the bed.

The mattress squeaks in protest as he moves to get on his knees between your spread legs, his cock throbbing while his eyes track over you spread out naked in front of him—you’re looking at him with want, your lip tugged between your teeth, Joel wanting to touch your breasts, and kiss your belly, the light from the bedside lamp reflecting on the glistening lips of your pussy, showing just how much you wanted him.

He licks his bottom lip, mouth watering at the thought of tasting you, stroking his hard cock a few times to ease the ache.

Just like how it’s a fact the sky is blue and grass is green, Joel Miller is a tits man, through and through, and he’s always been obsessed with yours.

Bending at the waist, he palms your breasts, feeling the familiar weight before leaning down to pull your stiff nipple between his lips, loving how you moan when he sucks. He laves at the bud, nibbling it with his teeth, knowing it drives you crazy. His cock is throbbing by the time he moves to the other side, giving it the same treatment, hearing you moaning unabashedly, your fingers tangled in the bedding.

Your nipples are shiny from spit when he finishes, his beard scraping against your skin as he kisses down your belly, his lips finding that one scar below your belly button, wondering in the back of his mind what caused it. The bed jostles while he maneuvers to lay down in the space between your open legs, having to adjust his dick digging into his stomach.

He grabs the front of your thighs to keep them open, seeing you sit on your elbows to watch as he kisses a wet streak along your inner thigh, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“Joel,” you say his name in that breathy exhale that makes his cock twitch when he sucks hard on the tender skin.

A smile is on his lips when he turns his head, hearing you gasp when his breath ghosts over your pussy to get to your other thigh, where he makes the same trail of kisses.

He’s lost count of how many times you’ve accused him of being a tease over the years. There was just something he loved about getting you all needy to the point you begged—that you’re so desperate for him, that he’s the only one who can give you what you need, so when his teeth sink into your meaty thigh, and you whine, “God, Joel. Stop teasing me,” the words go straight to his dick, making him groan.

He raises his head to meet your gaze, crookedly smiling at the crease in your brow and wanting to kiss your pouting mouth.

“You needy for me, baby?” he asks in a raspy tone. “Want me to touch that pretty little pussy? I’m just takin’ my time—wanna savor this.”

Your pout gets more defined.

“Well, I want you to touch me.”

“Is that any way to ask for somethin’?” His eyebrow raises.

“Joel,” you whine again. “Please, stop teasing me, and pretty please, with a goddamn cherry on top, touch me.”

“That’s my good girl, askin’ so nicely,” he winks, seeing you visibly shiver.

His attention moves to your center, his fingers spreading open the glossy lips of your sex, his other hand gripping your thigh.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he husks, licking his lips.

He spits on your clit, watching the saliva drip down, and he dives in, swiping a broad stripe of his tongue from your entrance to the perky bundle of nerves, groaning at the first taste of you. You’re the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth, and he can’t get enough, hearing you loudly moan as he does another circuit.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” his words said into your pussy, the bed protesting when you fall back on it.

He reaches to thread his fingers between yours to hold your hand while he laps at you, licking up every bit of your need from your puffy lips and between your folds, greedily wanting it all.

There’s a wet spot where his dick is leaking precum under him, Joel in fucking heaven languidly tasting you, and in no rush, appreciative sounds rumbling in his chest. You’d asked him so nicely to touch you, but you didn’t specify where you wanted him to touch, so he’s licking everywhere except your clit, which he knows is driving you crazy, feeling you squirm, your pussy weeping for him. He eagerly licks inside your cunt, making his tongue go stiff to fuck it into you, your juices enveloping his tastebuds.

Fuck, you taste so fucking good.

He could live here.

If he died right this second, he’d die a happy man.

Your hips are moving as he swipes through your folds to try and get him where you want him, making a pitiful sound when he doesn’t oblige.

He’s been going at this for a while and knows you’ll be at your breaking point at any second with your skin glistening in sweat and your whimpering moans.

“Joel, I swear to fucking god if you don’t—” your sentence cuts off into a long, loud cry as his lips wrap around the little berry of your clit, and he sucks, your back arching off the bed. He has to put an arm over your waist to keep you still, your hand squeezing his tight, and with how your body seizes up, he knows you’re coming, dipping his mouth down to drink down every drop of your release as it spills from you.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet when you come,” he groans into your cunt, shoving his tongue inside you, feeling you flutter around his muscle.

He doesn’t stop after getting you off once—he’s addicted, ravenous, wants more of your come on his tongue, and continues licking and sucking, devouring you like a man starved enjoying his first meal in years. And wasn’t he? Yesterday was the first time he had his mouth on you in over two decades, and drowning in your pussy wasn’t enough to curb his hunger.

It’s obscene the noises of him slurping and moaning into your cunt, enthusiastically eating you out, while soft sounds slip past your lips.

You sit up on an elbow, and your eyes meet, Joel seeing how good he’s making you feel, and it has him twisting his lower body to rest on his hip and free his cock, continuing to hold your hand while the other moves to stroke himself to ease the throbbing ache, squeezing the base of himself to keep from coming.

You’d been joking about his addiction to eating pussy, but he was—if there’s time, he’s getting his mouth on you, no questions asked, he wants to taste you.

You love it.

And it makes him so fucking hard knowing how much you love it.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan. “You’re gonna make me come again.”

That just has him doubling down, taking his hand off his dick to push two fingers into your soaking hole, rubbing them into that spot only he can reach while he harshly sucks on your clit.

Your head falls back, gasping his name, your cunt clenching and wetting his fingers as you come, Joel groaning, slipping them out to fuck his tongue into you and drink up your juices.

He doesn’t want to stop, even when your thighs snap shut over his ears and you fall back onto the mattress, he just keeps going, his mouth working against you, and he knows he’s gone—he’s gotten a taste, and now he’s drunk on your pussy, the world falling away around him, losing himself to you.

Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he jerks off while he makes you come a third time, him quickly following, raggedly moaning into your cunt while lapping up your release, his spend spurting over his hand and onto the blanket.

Time passes, he gets you off two more times, and you finally push at his head, Joel unable to hear you saying his name with your thighs clenched against his head. He untangles his fingers and pulls your trembling legs from him, coming off you to find you up on an elbow meeting his eyes, noticing your body shaking like a leaf in the wind while he pants.

“Too many?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“Too many,” you croak, and he can see how blissed out you are.

“Need a break?”

“Please.”

“Okay.”

He feels your wetness coating the lower half of his face, drenching his beard, smelling you in the hair under his nose. Licking his lips, he tastes you, savoring it on his tongue.

Crawling up your body, you lie back, his half-hard cock pressing into your belly as his face hovers over yours.

“Sorry, baby.” He kisses you, making you moan when you taste yourself.

You break the kiss, eyes narrowing.

“No you’re not, you liar.”

He huffs out an amused breath.

“You got me. I’m gonna clean up and go grab us some water.”

He kisses you quickly, feeling you smile into his lips.

“This is why I love you,” you reply. Your gazes meet when he pulls back. “You always take care of me after making my legs turn to jelly.”

He chuckles.

“Don’t need you passin’ out from bein’ dehydrated.”

“And I love that you care. God, you’re the best. The moment I can use my limbs, I am giving you the sloppiest blow job.”

He grins.

“A deals, a deal.”

It made you laugh that Joel walked bare ass naked downstairs after cleaning up in the bathroom without a second thought.

He didn’t have much choice, being as all of his clothes are dirty, and he wasn’t going to make you move for his modesty’s sake to grab a sheet, so down he went with his dick out at half-mast.

He’d returned with two glasses of water strategically held in one of those big hands of his, the other holding a large duffle bag that Tommy had apparently dropped off in the entryway while you two were otherwise occupied.

Joel’s brother even left a sweet note inside it:

Dinners in the bag.

I’ll be by in the morning with breakfast.

For the love of god, don’t break your fucking hip. You’re pushing sixty. Stick to missionary. –T

“Asshole,” Joel scoffs, crumpling it and tossing it to the floor.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, the bag beside you, Joel rummaging around in it, seeing it’s stuffed with clothes for the two of you, him handing you two wrapped sandwiches, peeking inside one to see it’s steak.

The realization you’re both hungry hits when your stomachs growl almost at the same time from the smells wafting in the air, the duffle bag getting set with the rest of your gear, and Joel taking a seat next to you, eating your sandwiches in companionable silence, before downing your cups of water.

He crawls onto the bed to lay with his head on a pillow, pulling on your arm to get you to join him, resting your head on his chest, hearing the strong thuds of his heart beating.

Your fingers are drawing circles over his other pec, Joel’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him.

Kissing your hair, he murmurs, “I missed this.”

Tilting your head up to see his face, you ask, “Eating my pussy for—” You look over him to the alarm clock on the bedside table “—almost two hours.”

His chest rumbles under you as he laughs.

“Well, I missed that, too, but I’m talkin’ about holdin’ you.” He squeezes you. “Always fit so perfectly in my arms.” He kisses your head again.

“I missed this, too,” you reply, leaning your head up to kiss his chin. He moves so his lips meet yours, it starts off chaste, the familiar press of your lips to each other’s. Before you know it, there’s a shift, that need you have for one another taking over, and the kisses get more urgent, him pulling you on top of him to plunder his tongue into your mouth, his hands roaming over your back and ass, squeezing the plump flesh.

It’s no surprise when arousal threads in your belly, his cock hardening under your pussy.

You’re panting when he bites at your lip, moving his mouth to nibble at your jaw.

“I wanna suck your dick,” you say through heavy breaths.

“Don’t we gotta wait thirty minutes after eating?”

“That’s swimming and a myth—zero scientific evidence.” You pull his head back to look you in the eyes, his so dark barely any brown remains. “It’s my turn. May I please suck your dick?”

He audibly gulps, nodding his head.

“Yeah,” he answers. “You can suck my dick.”

You grin.

“Thank you.” You kiss him quickly on the lips, then make a path over his stubbled jaw and down his neck, sucking on the taut skin hard enough to leave a mark, Joel moaning under you.

He always loved when you marked him, proudly wearing your hickies and never hiding them, Sarah always making a face if she saw one, and Tommy giving him shit, which Joel always said was worth it for people to know he was seeing someone.

Going lower, your mouth moves over his chest leaving kisses and marks in its wake, his hips bucking when you flick your tongue over his nipple, smiling when you suck on it, and Joel makes a choked-out sound under you. His fingers dig into the bedding as you lave at his other one, nibbling on it gently.

“Fuck,” he gasps.

Looking at him through your lashes, your head coming up, you reply, “Glad that hasn’t changed.”

You continue your way down his body, scooting off of him and between his spread legs, your knees sinking into the mattress, kissing and marking his belly, scraping your nails down his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath your lips.

“Christ,” he groans, pressing his hands to his face. “Is this payback for all my teasin’?”

“Maybe.”

His cock is resting against his stomach, leaking precum, letting him feel your hot breath along his shaft, Joel’s arms falling to his sides, rough sounds coming from his throat.

“Baby,” he growls when you shuffle back and away, making you smirk.

“Don’t enjoy getting a taste of your own medicine?” you tease.

The pillow under his head has him propped up enough that he’s got a view of you between his legs, Joel glaring daggers at you.

You laugh, giving yourself enough room to bend forward and press your cheek to his thigh.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You started it.”

“And I’m about to fuckin’ finish it,” he says seriously.

“Ooh—“ You kiss his skin “—you’re making threats.” Your head rises, eyes locked on his, smiling as sweetly as possible. “You don’t scare me,” you say, “and I know you’re gonna stay right there and let me do whatever I want to you, because even though you’re a big, gruff, scary, tough guy—that stare probably putting the fear of god into grown men—there’s something about you that’s never changed.”

“What’s that?”

“You are and will always be my good boy.”

His cock jerks, his mouth going slack, eyes closing as he moans deeply—his reaction making it feel like there’s electricity humming under your skin, a jolt of arousal shooting through your core.

No matter how different his exterior may look, you know what’s inside and what makes him tick, and that delights you to no end.

His voice is rough when he speaks, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You snort.

“Never,” you reply. “Now, I’m gonna make you feel good.”

He doesn’t have a chance to reply, lowering your head to pepper kisses along his inner thighs, his breaths stuttering when you suck a mark onto one, then the other.

“Shit,” he moans when you finally take him in hand, his cock velvety smooth and hard like steel in your grasp, pumping him languidly.

His hands are at his sides, eyes locked on what you’re doing, his lips parted.

Nerves are swirling in your belly like the first time you were met with this man’s big dick, trying to figure out how you’d fit it in your mouth. This time around, you know your limits and won’t overdo it and gag on him again.

He’d been very sweet at the time and honestly apologized for the size of his cock.

It was cute.

You gather spit on your tongue, letting it drip onto the tip, your mouth quickly following to engulf him, Joel harshly sucking in air, you tasting the salty tang of his arousal before opening your mouth wider to take him as far as you can, Joel moaning as your warmth envelops him.

“Your mouth feels so fuckin’ good, baby,” his strained voice says.

You’re stroking what won’t fit, hand gliding wetly from your saliva and his precum, bobbing your head, his dick sliding along your tongue to hit the back of your throat. He bucks his hips a little to chase your heat on the upstrokes, not wanting to leave your mouth, and it’s like riding a bicycle—quickly, the nerves disappear as you find your rhythm, your moans vibrating around him because this is something you loved doing—still love doing, sucking his cock always an experience.

Your eyes meet, seeing his glazed over.

“Love havin’ your lips wrapped around my dick,” he rasps. “Such a pretty fuckin’ mouth—God, I missed it.”

Swirling your tongue around the tip, hitting those sensitive spots, and using your free hand to fondle his sack makes him gasp, fuck, his hands clenching the bedding tightly in his fists.

You wonder if this is how he feels when he eats your pussy—his noises, hearing how much he enjoys what you’re doing going straight to your cunt, your inner thighs coated in slick. You love his slightly salty taste and how he fills your mouth, fitting so comfortably snug like he was made for you. But then there’s how he looks at you like you hung the moon and every twinkling star in the sky—full of reverence and devotion; it makes your heart pick up in pace, and you try harder to suck his soul out through his dick.

It’s messy, saliva and precum dripping down his length to his balls, hearing the wet slide of your hand stroking him, you humming around him. His cock glides along your palate, Joel sounding like he’s losing his mind in pleasure, praise slipping from his lips at how good you’re making him feel.

It’s a powerful feeling to have a gruff, hard, grumpy man like Joel Miller turn into a moaning, whimpering mess beneath you.

He’s practically writhing when you swallow around his dick and take him into your throat, a strangled noise leaving his mouth—your lips suctioned tight around him, sucking while your throat squeezes him.

He’s unashamed about the sounds he’s making, doing his best not to move, the muscles in his thighs and stomach tensed.

“Fuck,” Joel whines. His eyes are squeezed shut, fingers gripped tight in the comforter, sweat shining on his skin, a bead sliding down the column of his neck, and he’s so beautifully flushed all over. Tears stream from your eyes at suppressing your gag reflex, something you’re glad you still remember how to do, breathing through your nose. “You’re gonna make me come,” he pants. “Don’t wanna come yet. Please.”

It’s the last word that makes your cunt clench hard around nothing, sputtering and coming off of him with a gasp, a line of spit and precum connecting you to him.

His eyes open, Joel’s chest heaving, reaching to rub his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Still remember how I like my dick sucked,” he says. “That mouth of yours almost got me.”

Smiling, you reply, “Wouldn’t have been a bad thing.”

“If I came down your throat, it’d be a bit before I could be inside you, and I’m fuckin’ achin’ to feel your pussy squeeze me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Get up here and sit on my dick.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“You know damn well you wanna.”

Sitting up on your knees, you start moving.

“Of course I do,” you reply, straddling his hips, rocking your pussy back and forth along his hard shaft between your bodies. “But where’s the romance?” you continue, seeing him swallow hard, his hands grabbing your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples. “Sometimes a girl wants to be wooed.” His cock is wet below you from a mixture of spit, precum, and slick, hearing your movements, seeing Joel having difficulty concentrating, moving to grip your waist. “The least you can do is ask nicely.”

“Sorry, baby.” His eyebrows are pinched together, him swallowing again, panting. “I wanna be inside you—need to be inside you. Missed you. Wanna feel you. Please, baby, will you ride me?”

A Cheshire cat grin pulls up on your lips, leaning forward, holding yourself up with a hand pressed into the mattress by his head, hovering your mouth over his to meet his lust-blown gaze.

Your voice goes husky, “Yes, I will, since you were such a good boy.” Your tongue flicks up his top lip, Joel moaning, his cock jumping under you as he digs his fingers into your skin.

His mouth crashes into yours, kissing you hard.

Your lips stay connected as you raise your hips, your other hand guiding him to your entrance, sinking down on him, moaning into each other's mouths as he fills you—that first initial stretch always taking your breath away, savoring the slight pinch of him stretching you out, his cock carving out space in your depths.

Bottoming out, you feel so full, the kissing pausing with your jaws going slack at the intensity of how fucking good it feels, breathing each other in—sharing in this moment of being joined once more, feeling that strong sense that this is where you’re meant to be, this is who you’re meant to be with, and you’re finally home.

You feel the prickle of tears in your eyes, overwhelmed by the emotions coming over you. The shower had been quick, desperate, and not a lot of time to truly feel, and now it’s all washing over you, everything hitting you at once that you feel so complete, like you found that one piece of the puzzle you were missing, and you’re finally whole.

“I love you,” Joel says, his words unsteady with emotion. You open your eyes to find him already looking at you and can see in his gaze that he’s feeling it, too, just as overcome as you are. “I love you so fuckin’ much it hurts.” He kisses you, continuing to speak into your mouth. “Thank you for findin’ me. Thank you for still lovin’ me. Thank you for wantin’ to marry me—I’m forever fuckin’ yours.”

A tear rolls down your cheek.

“I love you, too,” you murmur against his lips. “I’m yours, I’ve always been yours, I’ll always be yours. Thank you for loving me, asking me to marry you, and giving me another kid to raise. I love you, Joel Miller.”

He smiles as he kisses you, a roll of your hips making his breath stutter.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans.

Your head comes up to meet his heated gaze.

“I love how you feel inside me—so fucking big.” His cock twitches inside your walls. “Fuck me like you mean it, Joel. Fuck me like I’m already your wife.”

A growl rips from his throat, his big hands grabbing onto your ass, kissing you while he starts fucking you on his cock, up and down, the slick slide of him moving in and out of you making your brain go fuzzy in pleasure.

You’re moving with him, picking up pace, rising up on your thighs, and dropping back down, spearing yourself on his dick, feeling him so deep it knocks the air from your lungs. His lips are still on yours, the kisses messy, uncoordinated, like all he cares about is feeling your mouth on his, swallowing each other's breathy sounds.

Fingers dig into the plump flesh of your backside, gasping when Joel starts thrusting up into you, stuttering your moans at how he pounds into you, him grunting, breaking the kiss to bare his teeth, a feral look on his face as he fucks into you with abandon—the beginnings of your orgasm taking shape, starting to build. The wet slap of his hips sounds in the room, mixed with the rough sounds from Joel’s throat and the softer one’s escaping your mouth, taking everything he’s giving to you, making the arousal burn brighter inside you.

There’s sweat beading on his forehead and down his neck, the muscles tense under his skin, and you're unable to stop yourself from licking a stripe up the salty column of his throat, being rewarded with a gasp.

He’s kissing you again when he loses steam, pulling you down to grind on his cock, the curls at the base of him rubbing deliciously against your clit, working you up, getting closer and closer to your release.

His mouth leaves yours, Joel suddenly groaning as he sits up in the bed, an arm around your back to bring you him, spreading his legs out in front of him, your own bracketing his waist, keeping his dick inside you while getting you comfortable in his lap.

Looping your arms around his neck, you press your fingers into the sweat-damp hair at the back of his head, looking him in the eyes.

You’re breathless when you say, “Hi, babe.”

He smirks.

“Hi, baby.”

You start rocking your hips, circling them, to try and find the best angle, your mouth falling open when his cock rubs against a spot that has your toes curling.

Joel’s arm is wrapped around you to hold you close, his other hand on your hip helping you move, kissing you passionately, deeply, one of those ones where you can feel deep down in your bones how much he loves you—chasing his mouth when he pulls back to nuzzle his nose against yours.

“Want you close,” he murmurs. “Wanna feel you come like this.”

“Okay,” you breathe, focusing on what feels good, working yourself up and down to have him pressing into that pleasurable place on every downstroke.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasps. “Fuck yourself on me—use me.”

You’re building yourself up, Joel’s mouth wandering—a nip to your chin, pressing kisses to your jaw, each corner of your lips, along your neck, his beard scratching across your skin; his hands roam—gripping your ass, sliding over your tummy and up to your breasts, pinching and teasing your hard peaks.

The nerves in your body are alight in pleasure, panting moans falling from your mouth. He ducks his head to lick your nipple, engulfing it in his hot mouth, the sensation shooting to your core, making your head fall back, “Oh, fuck, Joel,” you moan, gripping his hair. “Feels so fucking good.”

He moves to the other side, bouncing yourself on him, pushing yourself closer, feeling your muscles beginning to tighten. He snakes a hand down, pressing his thumb to your clit, making you cry out from the jolt of pleasure.

He’s close to coming.

He’s too fucking close.

Feeling you fluttering around him, making him almost lose it, so worked up from being inside you again—your warmth, the tight squeeze of your cunt hugging him like a warm blanket.

He’s trying to calm himself down, but you’ve taken over all of his senses—touching you, tasting you, seeing you, hearing you, smelling you—you’re all he can think about, and it has him feeling like he’s going to blow his load at any second, which is embarrassing. His stamina has never been this bad, can’t believe he came in three minutes flat when he fucked you in the shower, knowing he lasted much longer the very first time you had sex.

What is happening to him?

He’s never had this problem before.

Is it his age? Has it finally caught up to him?

It’s glaringly obvious what has Joel getting close to becoming a two-pump chump, and it’s you.

He’s at your mercy.

You’ve got him fucked up.

And he wouldn’t change it for the goddamn world.

He’s trying to control his breathing, his thumb circling your clit, his other hand digging into your ass to guide you up and down, knowing you’re almost there, and if he goes with you, then so be it.

Raising his head, his face is a hair’s breadth from yours, seeing your lips parted and eyes closed, moaning loudly as you chase your high, moving at your own pace, looking so fucking beautiful his heart skips a beat.

“I know you’re close, baby,” he husks. “Look at me. Lemme see you come.”

Glazed-over eyes meet his, it’s evident how good you’re feeling, and he swears his dick gets harder at the sight, the tight clutch of you squeezing him, all wet and warm.

He’s missed this—your sounds, how you feel, how you look. He wants to stay like this forever and never leave your warmth, loving how it’s consuming him, spreading through his body to the tips of his fingers to his toes.

He’ll never tire of this, how perfectly you fit together, like you were made for each other, your softness complementing his roughness, helping to smooth out his edges.

He presses harder onto your bundle of nerves, your walls tightening.

“Come for me,” he says through his teeth.

He can see it when you come—is so familiar with that look it’s imprinted in his brain, sending a spike of pleasure down his spine.

Your mouth opens in a silent cry, clamping down hard on him as you come undone, gripping him so tight, you’ve stilled. Joel’s hanging on by a thread, moaning your name, feeling your release dripping down his balls, your cunt wetter and pulsing around him.

“My good girl,” he pants, rubbing his hands over your back, feeling your soft skin.

He takes a calming breath, trying to center himself, wanting to prove to himself he can last and really fuck you like his wife.

Getting himself under control, his arm wraps around you, and the moment you relax, he’s moving, grunting as he carries you forward to get you on your back, you gasping in surprise as you bounce gently onto the mattress, the springs squeaking beneath you.

His hips slot into the cradle of your thighs, sheathed to the hilt inside you, getting your hands above your head and intertwining your fingers to hold them, keeping his weight up on his forearms as his hips start rocking, the velvety walls of your pussy hugging him tightly, sucking him into your wet heat.

He catches your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your moans, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper, loving how you feel under him—your body soft, welcoming him, beckoning him, wanting more with every slick drag of his cock in and out of your greedy depths.

It feels like there’s fire just beneath his skin, a burning knot growing in his belly, having trouble thinking with your mouth on his and the hypnotic feeling of your cunt pulsing around him.

He’s enraptured.

The primal being in him takes over, his pace quickening, mouths detaching to press his forehead to yours as he starts railing, the slap of his hips working into you over and over, wanting to feel the tight squeeze of you coming again.

“Joel,” you say his name in a breathy moan that has his hips stuttering from the stinging pleasure that cuts through him. You’re quivering beneath him, your legs trembling around his middle. “Oh, fuck,” you gasp. “You’re gonna make me come.”

That just spurs him on, grunting as he fucks you into the mattress, your moans getting louder, your hands squeezing his. His head falls into the crook of your neck, hearing the wet suck of your pussy taking him, knowing you're close with how you’re spasming around him.

There’s no sweeter sound than you crying out his name as you come.

You clench down on him so hard, keeping him buried inside like you want him to stay there for all eternity, and Joel has half a mind to do just that.

Lifting his head, he’s breathing hard as he peppers kisses along your jaw.

“So good to me,” he says between breaths into your skin, the words coming out rough. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

You’re trying to catch your own breath, Joel rolling his hips, needing the friction for his aching cock.

You open your eyes to meet his gaze, looking all dreamy and thoroughly fucked out of your mind, making pride swell in his chest that he made you feel that good.

“It’s your turn,” you slur, making him smile, kissing your chin.

“It’s my turn?” he asks. “Don’t want another? Could probably make you squirt.”

“No more. I’ll pass out. Want you to come inside me.”

His cock jerks, thrusting a little faster in your sopping pussy.

He kisses you softly.

“You want me to fill you up?” he murmurs into your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He nudges the tip of his nose to yours.

“Then I will.”

His cock is throbbing, knowing he isn’t going to last long with heat curling in his belly. He starts fucking into you, hearing your skin colliding and the slick sounds between your legs, Joel panting.

You’ve got your eyes locked on his.

“You gonna come for me?” you ask. “Fuck me full of you, baby? I wanna feel it.”

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest, feeling hot all over, his skin drenched in sweat, thrusting harder. The thought of pumping you full of him until your dripping has his breaths getting shaky and rhythm going sloppy.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Gonna come.”

His balls draw up, cock thickens, that burning knot in his stomach winding so tight until he’s shattering into a million pieces, pushing into you as far as possible, moaning as he comes.

The hot flood of his spend has you clenching up tight, sighing happily at being filled, Joel unable to stop himself from rolling his hips—this urge, a need ingrained in his brain to make sure he gets his come as deep inside you as it will go, hissing through his teeth when the sensitivity becomes too much, finally collapsing on top of you.

He lets go of your hands, his nose pressed to your neck, breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest.

“This okay?” he mumbles, not wanting you to be uncomfortable under his weight.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper.

He’s feeling euphoric and so relaxed that he thinks his bones have turned to liquid, pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move even if he tried.

He can’t recall the last time he allowed himself to get this fuck drunk, usually still alert when he comes, always on edge, but right now, he doesn’t have a single care in the world except for the woman under him.

You slide your hands into his wet hair, dragging your fingernails over his scalp, and it has tingles shivering down his spine, Joel practically purring—in heaven, he wants to stay like this until time stops, and the universe becomes no more, basking in your warmth for all eternity, being with you always.

He lost too much time with you, and he won’t waste anymore, planning to spend each and every day with you, not entirely sure if he could stand being parted—just the thought of being away from you making his guts churn, scared he’d lose you again, and that can’t happen, not after finally getting you back.

He’ll keep you and Ellie safe and help Tommy with whatever he needs to protect the town because this is where his family is; this is home.

He has you.

He has Ellie.

He has Tommy.

He has a job to do, needs to keep the people he cares about protected, and God help any motherfuckers who stand in his way.

“Told you my hips are fine.” His voice is muffled in your neck.

You snort, your fingers stroking through his hair.

“Nights still young, babe.”

“I’m not breakin’ a fuckin’ hip,” he grumbles.

“You better not—I don’t know what the hospital situation is here and if they’d have the supplies I’d need to fix you.”

“Have I told you that you bein’ a doctor is sexy?”

You giggle.

“Because I can treat your sex injuries?”

“Yeah.”

“Again, I don’t know what’s here, so please don’t overdo it—Tommy would never let you live it down.”

He frowns.

He’s done more strenuous things like killing infected and running from hoards; he can handle a night or two of pure fucking—it’ll be a breeze in comparison.

You yawn, which has him yawning, too, exhaustion seeping into his bones.

“Tommy’s an asshole,” he replies. “Wanna take a nap?”

“Absolutely. I’m too old for all-night marathon sex.”

“Stop that. We just gotta take a break and rest. Drink some water, too—we still gotta do your favorite.”

“What’s my favorite?”

“Face down, ass up.”

“God,” you moan.

“It’s Joel, but I’m flattered.”

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @absurdthirst @littlemisspascal @iamskyereads @theorganasolo @thefictionalgemini @pinkninja200 @lol-im-done @koryianders @pointlessandfutile @flyingmushroomss @abbyhaslongshorts @savage-aespa @sofietargaryen @kpopslur @superflymaterial @virtuallia @moobaggg @shaunthesheesh @marsrox @fandomtrash5092 @whore4dilfs @majdoline @mandowhatnow @hereforkylo @okjewels7567 @autobotgirl15-blog @silhxvette @lentil-s0up @myloveistoolittle @perksofbeingamultifandomm @squirtlebob @joliettes @aonungs-tsahik @javierpenasimp @thewayiknowyou @magic-magnoliaa @casssiopeia @vanemando15 @kiricomics @eddiemunscns @gracie7209 @fan-fiction-floozy @Butterscotch-mafia @myloveistoolittle @icygurl56 @deliriousfangirl61 @khaylin27 @notyourlovemonkey @a-wild-haggis @scorpiomindfuck @fandomandotherthings @therealcap

#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #Joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/you #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #september series

2K notes · View notes