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xxxsaturnxx · 2 months

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König head cannons

As requested on my most recent poll!! I did try to keep it very neutral and ‘fluffy’. Please let me know who else i should write for im always looking for new ideas!!

König keeps a little journal with him at all times when he’s deployed. Just something to vent at or doodle in. He’s not the best artist but he tries, he even has small doodles in almost every page that kind of look like you.

His journal is VERY private the only person thats allowed to take a peak in there every now and then is you. Sometimes when he’s busy somewhere else in the house and he leaves his journal unattended you put tiny love notes in the corners of the pages.

While he’s not deployed König has three moods. Couch potato, horn dog, and the biggest ball of energy anyones ever seen.

König in couch potato mode is just a giant weighted blanket. He’ll lay on the couch taking up the entire couch just watching a movie or show of his choosing. You can try to join him but only if you can lift a part of him up, and if you can’t the floor or his lap would do fine.

König while he’s all energetic can mean a couple things for you. He’ll either want you to join him on a run or hike, but his idea of a small hike or a short run might just kill you half way through.

NSFW MDNI

When könig is riled up he’s practically glued to you in someway. His hands would most likely fall on your chest or waist trying to feel every inch of skin he can reach. His mouth would be marking you all over your neck, chest, and legs are going to be covered with bite marks and hickes red and sore.

Sometimes when he’s particularly desperate humping is to be expected. In those times you can bring down this massive 6’10 hulking man into nothing more than a whiny mess, Begging for your touch. He’ll look up at you while on his knees with those beautiful ocean eyes begging for any kind of attention/friction.

If hes just gotten back from deployment best believe the first thing hes looking for is you. He’ll drop everything at the door slamming it with his foot. The second he spots you his hands and lips are all over you. He mumbles against your skin about how much hes missed you before taking your lips into his.

Later that day he makes sure that you feel every inch second hes missed you. Almost breaking the bed, couch, you and table throughout the night. He does make sure to slow down every once and a while to just love on you and to also give you a break.

Königs stamina is very well above average much like the rest of him. He understands that breaks are important so you don’t break. ( as euphoric as it would be)

His after care routine is just as much for you as it is for him. Back rubs, bathroom trips and head scratches are some favorites but just having him there still breathing heavy wiping the sweat from your brow and giving you soft kisses all over your face is definitely on the top of all favorites.

König rarely loses control when you’re together, always couscous of how you feel and react. But there are those moments when he just snaps in the best way possible.

Sometimes he snaps before hes even entered you and he just grips the base of your head and positions you like you’re nothing more than a rag doll. König just relentlessly thrusting in and out of you while hes holding you still with one hand pushing your head down by your neck and the other sinking into your hip.

Other times könig and you are mid stroke when he snaps. Positioning you under him almost being crushed by his weight. He mindlessly pounds into you like a wild animal, both times ending with him filling you over and over again till hes had his fill, leaving you dripping and cock drunk.

It is almost guaranteed that you wake up the next morning sore and bruised but very satisfied. He’ll apologize for losing control by pampering you the entire day, so expect a lot of cuddles, kisses, and being fed your favorite foods.

#könig x reader smut #könig smut #könig #konig x reader smut #konig smut #könig mw2 #könig cod #konig cod #konig #smut #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig headcanons #konig headcanons #konig x reader #kö

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enbesbians · 5 months

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thinking of some random ellie hcs...

this is a repost…

these headcannons are purely based off what i think ellie would be or what i think she'd do. tell me if you agree or send a specific headcannon if you'd like. im always open.

ALSO! i have big fucking hands and i mistype all the time and somehow even though i think aloud when i type i forget to add the word... so if there's any mistakes….. pay no mind…. please.

sfw hc:

• modern day ellie definitely had an emo phase, fringe and all. her hair all disheveled, doodling on her arm as her 'tattoos'.

• she most definitely had a 'im not gay' phase. she was so paranoid of anyone finding out that she was attracted to girls, if a group of friends of hers complimented one of them, ellie would say something like, "yeah... you're cool... or whatever" thinking if she ever called one of them pretty, they'd find out. simultaneously alway asking hypothetical questions like, "what if we got married...? that would be so crazy right? …yeah."

• her first kiss was absolutely the most awkward, painful kiss anyone could witness. she's definitely gotten better but her first kiss was just a long press... eyes all the way open.

• she'd have numerous bruises and scars from skateboarding. she seems like the type to try to do tricks with majority of them busting her ass. she'd come in with a cast on her arm and a scratch on her cheek saying, "hey guys!" as if she didn't look like she ate shit.

• she either wears a binder or no bra at all. i can see her liking the idea of being flat chested even though she is on the smaller side (which i find cute) and she'd flex in the mirror whenever she'd put it on. other times, she might be braless and not care that her nipples are poking out of her shirt.

• this brings me to my next he, she'd most definitely have nipple piercings... here me out... but it'd only be one. i dunno why i see her with only one, but it seems fitting. she'd have the standard bar and circle balls.

• she throughly enjoys metal music and dabbled in the punk scene. she wouldn't go full out in her wardrobe, she's definitely a wear a band shirt and have patches on my jacket from time to time kinda gal. you'd see her in local punk show events, in the pit going rampant. that would also be another way how'd she get random bruises scattered on her.

here's some nsfw ones..

• she loves getting head standing up. your nose plunging and bumping up into her clit. just to have her pants still at the center of her thighs with her hand behind your head, fucking your face and watching you do it? that would make her go absolutely feral.

• after fingering you shes definitely the type to want to smell her fingers but discreetly. even if it were to bump against your pussy, she'd act like her nose would itch but she's so bad at trying to be nonchalant that you'd notice.

• she's a lesbian porn feen. she likes to watch homemade videos where the quality is all fucked up and grainy or even the solo ones where the girl is fucking herself so mercifully. she definitely talks to the screen as if they could hear her saying things like, "yeah... keep fucking that pretty pussy" or "make her feel that cock." when she's watching strap video.

• there's a lot of discourse around if ellie is an ass or boob kind of gal and quite honestly, i think she's both. she'd wrap her arms around you, groping your breast while grinding herself on your ass.

• she loves to trib/scissors. to have her clit against yours and rut herself as fast as she can would have her incredibly high off lust. she's into the missionary kind, where your legs are pulled back and she's squatting down on you so she could feel everything.

• she has an outtie in regards to her pussy. for some reason i see her being a little more 'fleshy' down there. i can see her having a clit a little on the bigger side and having flowery vulva so whenever you have her head, she'd fill your mouth whenever you sucked it.

• she has body hair but not large amounts just a bit on her legs. she has a happy trail for sure and she maintains her pubes where it's not a full on bush but it's not completely bald either. picture your hair growing back after it's been completely shaven off and shes about two weeks in growth.

• she wears her strap in public sometimes. something about her screams, ‘i can fuck you right here, right now, just ask and ill whip it out.’

that's all, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#lesbian #sapphic #wlw #tlou #the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x you #ellie williams headcanons #ellie headcanons #ellie williams smut #ellie x masc reader #ellie smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us

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mapileonxputellas · 6 months

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Beckham II: 1 New Beginning

Please find instagram aesthetic here.

Post here explains how I've wrote it, I think it's quite simple.

This is the first part of my new series and I hope you enjoy xx (3k words)

“Do you ever think about how crazy it is that you’re an icon in Barcelona and yet your dad played for Real Madrid?”

“I try not to think about that. I think that bothers him more than me.”

“Does he have any Barcelona shirts?”

“Of course he does.”

…..

“David, how does it feel watching your daughter play for Barcelona?”

“It’s the best feeling in the world. I’m guessing you were expecting some kind of rivalry but I’ll always support my daughter.”

…..

Barcelona, February 2023.

One down, nine to go.

It was like clockwork in your brain. Training would finish, everyone else would rush to get back into the training room and get back to their everyday life. Yet here you were, on your own, just how you like it. You and the ball. Free kick after free kick after free kick. Ten in total, all from different areas, all with different aims but each one just as equally important in your brain.

Barcelona was a dream. You were here with the best players in the world but you hated letting anyone down. Every little mistake was over-analysed, picked at all because of who you were. At the weekend it was a wonder save which stopped one nestling in the top corner but that didn’t matter. It hadn’t gone in and therefore didn’t meet your expectations.

The expectations you put on yourself, multiplied by that moment four years ago.

You loved your father but many people probably didn’t understand that there wasn’t a gene for taking good free kicks.

Unbeknownst to you, all of this was about to change. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“If it’s another journalist, tell them I’m not interested.”

You couldn’t be bothered with whatever reply the press officer would tell you. It was the same every day. Someone wanted to speak to you, you said no. They came back the next day.

You’d think they’d get bored after four years of consistent turn aways but that was never the case. You did the press conferences, the interviews after games but a sit-down full-length interview was not something you felt like you could ever handle.

So you carried on, resetting the ball in the correct spot. Back to just you and the ball.

For February it was a sunny afternoon in Barcelona, the sun was still shining for the mid-afternoon with minimal wind. Perfect conditions to practice and as your teammates had pointed out you hadn’t needed any more persuasion to get that training vest on, your tattoos on full show. Along with football they were your biggest passion, your phone was full of tattoo inspiration and little doodles you did when you were bored, they were a big part of you and maybe the image you wanted to create for yourself.

You took inspiration from everything, football, the environment, your father. Growing up many would say you were already a carbon copy of him but the tattoos were the icing on the cake. Your mother may not have been as happy about them but they promised to accept all your passions and that included turning up every few months with a new collection of tattoos to show off.

…..

“Maria, is she copying you?”

“You’ll have to ask her. No of course not, I would say we take great inspiration from each other. We’ve got a few matching ones, I’ve done a few on her and she’s done the same to me. That’s kind of what started our friendship.”

“You both have ‘looks can be deceiving’ on your necks, is that true for her?”

“Depends on what you think of her. Maybe some find her scary but you have to find out if that’s true yourself.”

…..

You could hear someone approaching you, watching as you took the next kick nestling it into the bottom corner underneath the imaginary wall.

“Y/N, have you got five minutes?” The unmistakable voice of Sarina. Many people would love Serena Weigman to turn up at their training session, not you. Not now.

Shit. You almost didn’t want to turn around. Maybe if you stayed facing the other way she would leave. Leave you be in the bubble you’d created for yourself, nothing good could come out of this conversation.

But of course the Dutch woman wasn’t going to leave that easily, edging closer to you. “I only want to talk.”

“I gave you my answer a year ago.”

“Lots can change in a year. Five minutes. If you still want me to leave after, I’ll leave.”

Maybe it was worth hearing what she had to say. Nothing could change your mind anyway, you’d hear whatever she had to say and then she could leave.

You knew what she was here for and it didn’t surprise you what came out of her mouth next. “I want you back, I name my squad next week and I want you ready to play for us at the World Cup.”

“And I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“The fans are not that accepting, the players don’t deserve to be drawn into that drama because of me.”

“There’s always drama in football.” Maybe she had a point but off the back of the Euro’s success the lionesses have had nothing but positivity from the media and public. “We’ve lost Beth, we’ve lost Fran and I think the players would welcome your experience in that position. It’s your decision but I know deep down you want to prove people wrong and I want to give you that opportunity.”

“Some would say I don’t deserve that.”

“It will be different this time.”

“How?”

“It’s been four years, everything’s changed. We protect you guys, you have support systems in place, we have support systems. It’s not individuals anymore, it’s a team.”

“I made that decision to protect myself.” Almost four years ago you’d sent that letter, asking not to be selected for international duty again. They had no choice but to accept it and when Serena came into the role she approached you but you told her a tournament on home soil was not something you could mentally cope with. Not yet. “Why would now be different?”

“I’ve watched every game you’ve played in the last 18 months. I know you may not see a difference in yourself but I do, the interview after you lost to Lyon showed your spirit, your drive. I need players like you, it won’t be easy but I don’t want something that happened four years ago to stop you showing the world how talented you are.”

You were conflicted. Of course you’d love nothing more than to prove all those who bashed you before wrong, to make a difference on the world stage after winning every trophy you could with Barcelona. On the other hand it was just opening a can of worms you’d hidden all those years ago. Although you were only in Spain it felt like a different world, you turned your comments off on social media and they never came back on. Interviews were a no-go and your former friends were now distant acquaintances.

“Can I think about?”

“Of course you can. Like I said, the squad goes out on Tuesday so I need an answer by Monday. Any questions, I’m coming to the match on Sunday, maybe I can speak to you after?”

“Thank you.” With a soft squeeze to your shoulder she was off, except now you couldn’t focus knowing you were about to make a decision which would change everything.

…..

“You seem distracted.”

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to accept the dinner invite from Maria and Ingrid but you knew your best friends wouldn’t take no for an answer. The three of you along with Frido were sat at their dinner table, tucking into the tapas you’d ordered from your favourite restaurant and it wasn’t lost on any of them how your mind was elsewhere. Casually picking through your food was a total opposite to the way you usually devoured this.

“Y/N?”

You’d been debating on the way whether to speak to someone about it.

Maybe your dad? He’d gone through something similar but he was in Miami and would only just be getting up.

Your mum? She was the most rational option but she would never understand that pride of pulling on your national shirt.

Your therapist seemed the best option but the earliest session she had for non-emergencies was tomorrow.

“Y/N!” In your own little world you’d even forgot to answer their questions. “Are you alright?”

It could help speaking to them, couldn’t it? “I had a visitor after training. Sarina Weigman.”

“Shit man, I thought you said no.” Maria Leon was your best friend from the moment you stepped foot in that training room, you bonded over everything from tattoos to food. You’d been her wingman in getting with Ingrid and had a mutual understanding of each other’s situations with your respective national teams even if the circumstances were very different.

“She wants me back but I don’t know, this feels different from last year.” If Bonnie, your 5-year-old beagle, adopted 3 years ago to signify a new chapter in your life, wasn’t by your feet they would definitely be anxiously tapping the floor right now.

“They probably feel your absence more because they’ve lost other players.” Frido added some context. “Not that you wouldn’t have always walked into that team but now you definitely would. You’d be their main player.”

“I can see you’re considering it.” Ingrid pointed out. “When she came last year I could see you were like, definitely no, now you haven’t turned it down immediately.”

“There’s no right or way wrong to feel,” Maria tried to comfort me. “Only you can decide if you want to go back there.”

“I miss it.”

“Of course you do.” Ingrid agreed. “You wouldn’t watch all their games if you didn’t.”

“It’s just the fact that I’m comfortable here, I have been for so long and now I’m going to throw myself back into four years ago.” Four years ago when you’d been forced to move away from your club at the time in Chelsea and accept the fact that one mistake had changed everything. “Plus the media attention, no-one wants that in the lead up to the world cup.”

“They were your friends, I’m sure they’d understand.” Frido tried to make you see that side of things. “Shit happens in football but what happened to you when completely over the top of that.”

“I isolated them.” Of course you had friends in the squad at the time, in fact best friends. But as soon as you made the move to America you slowly distanced yourself from them as they did to you. You hated letting them down and completely understood that being associated to you meant unnecessary exposure where perhaps they would not want it.

“So you’ll make friends again.”

You’d changed as well, grown into a completely different person in that time. Your appearance and attitude on the pitch were a distinct opposite to the crippling shyness you had yet to shake off. “Maybe.”

“You will,” Maria assured you. “Plus I think Bonnie told me she wanted a sleepover with me.”

“Oh did she?”

“I’m not swaying you either way but if that’s what you want, I’ll support you all the way.”

“We all will.” Frido added wrapping her arms around you to bring you into her side. “We love you.”

“Thank you, I love you all too.”

“Speak to your dad, maybe even your mum. I’m sure they’d want to help.”

One of the funniest moments in your life had to be watching your teammates introduce themselves to your parents when they came out to watch your first match in the Blaugrana. Watching their nerves dissipate when they realised how down to earth, especially your mother was, when it came to their children. Of course their name brought so much extra attention to you but you couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing.

Maybe it was their words that made you do it but subconsciously you knew the best thing to do was to ring them. So as you got into bed that night, once you got back, Bonnie at your feet watching, you rang the number you’d had memorised for years.

“Hi baby.” His voice almost brought tears to your eyes. Although you tried to be as independent as possible, wanting to be your own person, you sometimes wished you could just go back to spending every night in his arms.

“Hi dad.”

“What’s wrong?” You hated how easily he could read you, how those two words were enough for him to know something was wrong.

“It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know dad.” Out with it. “Sarina Weigman came to visit me today, she wants me to go and join them in the next international break.”

“And what do you want?”

“I think I want to.”

“You think?”

“I just know that if I do I’m just going to be brought back to that moment.”

“Then you’ll go back to a moment where the referees made a terrible decision. Football fans are fickle you know that as much as I do but you’ve watched it back enough to know that nine times out of ten nothing happens. The commentator did you no favours, Phil didn’t stand by you as he should have and the media hung you out to dry.”

“I know.”

“But as awful as it was it made you the person you are today and your stronger now then you’ve ever been before. If you want to go back then you’ll make it work. I know you will.”

“Thanks dad, now how is…”

,,,,,

“How many times have you watched that tackle back?”

“Over a thousand times.”

“Do you think you should have been sent off?”

“Of course not.”

……

You loved Barcelona, from the moment you stepped through those doors 3 years ago you’d been welcomed in and never looked back. In 2019 you moved to America but your year out there was plagued with depression and homesickness resulting in a lack of game time, when Barcelona came calling it was a difficult decision with your family ties but they had a project, they had a good set up and you knew the onus wouldn’t just be on you. The first six months were still tough, working out Spanish football to both play with your teammates and counter the opposition but by the end of the season you felt at home for the first time in 2 years.

Your role this year had been heightened by the loss of one of your midfield partners in Alexia, but you were adaptable and that’s probably how you found yourself 4-0 up, having just scored a second goal in the second half.

“It’s almost like you’re trying to impress someone.” Mapi whispered giving you a half hug as you walked back into your own half.

“Shut up.”

“I bet she’s panicking that you might turn it down now.”

“She’s got other players Maria.”

“But none of them are you.”

The match stayed at 4-0, some of the youngsters coming on to see the game out.

You’d never been in a team like this, of course you had little arguments and there were small groups within the team, but everyone worked so hard for each other. And with that came the protectiveness, when you joined you were only 21, now 24 and the older ones took you under their wings. You’d been daunted a lot at the fact of playing fellow English players in the Champions League but they’d been your shield for those moments.

It blew your mind when the younger age groups joined you and they speak about that moment. Most of them staying up late to watch it making you feel old. But that meant they came to you for advice a lot of the time. Maybe this time though it was time to get advice from them.

“Hey little one.” Maria Perez was the first one you spotted in the changing room. “You played really well today.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling about being called up?” It was only yesterday that the Spanish squad had been leaked and she was once again in it.

“Excited, another opportunity to prove myself.”

“I like that you see it that way.”

“Everyone should, it’s no different to playing here, as long as you be yourself you can never be disappointed.”

…….

@jillsmithjournalist: Serena Weigman is present at the Barcelona match. No current England players are playing however star player Y/N Beckham scored twice. Beckham has not played for England since she withdrew from selection in August 2019 amid public backlash and a rumoured feud with England manager Phil Neville. Could a return be on the cards?

@newlionesses_x: Surely she can’t just pick and choose when to come back.

@wslfan: Fine without her last year

@england123: Liability for England

@barcelonafan: All you hating on Beckham are crazy, one of the best players in the world and you don’t want her back because of something that happened 4 years ago, grow up. Could tell she struggled when she joined us but this past year she’s been exceptional, people change, mistakes happen (even though she should never have been sent off in the first place)

…..

You’ve known your decision for a long time but you still delayed giving it as long as possible before you could wait no longer. You could see she was the only one left in the hospitality area as you entered, the table she had chose overlooking the pitch you’d just performed on.

This was what you wanted and now it felt only right to give yourself that opportunity again.

“I’ll do it.”

#woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #barcelona femeni #lionesses #engwnt #david beckham #beckham #football

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eternity-death · 1 month

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Has anyone considered or even thought about Sunday texting. Like we’ve seen him receive letters, which probably means he also writes some himself— but what about texting???

He probably has two phones (one for personal uses and one for work). He uses proper grammar and punctuation even when he texts. Almost never uses abbreviations/initalisms.

Eg.

[Y/N]

Look!

(A moment later, an attachment pops up. Sunday taps it to open it up full-screen, and he’s met with a photo of a periwinkle and white origami bird.)

[Y/N]

Doesn’t this one look like you?

[Sunday]

Ahahaha

Once he used ‘Lol’. You thought his phone got stolen.

Doesn’t strike me as the type to use many emoji’s. Maybe ☺️ or 🙂 every now and then. And he’ll send a ❤️ in response to any selfies or at the end of his messages.

[Sunday]

❤️

[Sunday]

You look lovely.

Or…

[Sunday]

Good morning, dear.

I brewed a kettle of tea before I left. It should be cooled off on the stove and ready for you to drink. It’s a chamomile and ginger blend which will help with your headache.

Keep yourself hydrated and get some rest. Please text or call if you need anything. ❤️

Only a select bunch have his personal number (Robin, you, The Dreammaster, The Family Heads). He doesn’t have anything in his photo gallery on his work phone. No apps. Just the ones needed for contact.

On his personal phone, his photo gallery is not as barren. There are quite a few pictures of you. Selfies you’ve sent, pictures of you together, etc. He has a bunch with Robin as well. Some were taken together during her visits, and some were taken by herself (images of the places she'd been or cool things she'd encountered during her journey) and sent to him via message.

And of course you’ll find the random odd pictures. Maybe a quick snap of the spine/title of a book he wants to look into. Or a screenshot of an interesting quote or fact from an article he was reading.

His photo gallery is also neatly divided into albums.

He doesn’t play any mobile games. He probably downloaded Doodle Jump or Temple Run back when he first got his phone, but he hasn’t touched either in ages. The only reason he hasn’t deleted the app is because you go on his phone to play it sometimes.

Sunday will text your during his free time. He’ll ask how your day’s been going and share a bit about his own, discuss lunch/dinner plans, and if he’s sure there aren’t any other guests scheduled to meet, then he’ll ask you to come to Dewlight Pavillion so that he can see you.

#hsr x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #He thinks of u a lot

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juniperskye · 2 months

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Like I Talk To Myself.

Sneak Peek: Being the new kid in school has Jason and his asshat friends saying some horrible shit to you. In attempt of being your white knight, Eddie finds out that it’s not Jason and his goons who you need to be saved from. Eddie’s POV. Indented section is a phone call (italics are Eddie and bold is Wayne)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 2004

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, language, reader is clinically depressed, mentions of abusive home life, description of injuries from abuse, bad medication management, self-deprecation, suicidal thoughts, mention of self-harm, description of injuries related to self-harm. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE THEMES ARE TRIGGERING TO YOU!!! If I missed any, let me know!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

The new girl had been here for nearly two months now. I had tried really hard to hide how into her I was, but the guys pretty much guessed it the second they saw me checking her out. She was different than the girls here in Hawkins, she kept to herself, not pursuing the usual popular guys. Truthfully he hadn’t seen you attempt to pursue anyone in your time here.

She was in my math class and every day she would come in with her head down, hood up, and quickly find a seat in the back. She’d end up doodling most of the class, like she was right now. The bell ringing startled her, I really wanted to reach out and comfort her, she seemed like she needed it.

I exited the classroom right behind her, only to watch Andy slam right into her. Her books went flying all over the hallway and Andy started yelling at her.

“Watch where you’re going you stupid bitch.” Andy roared.

“Woah Andy, back off. You ran into her!” I had no idea why I was interjecting.

“Oooh I get it! The freak found himself a freakette.” Jason chimed in.

“No, that’s not…” I stuttered.

“I don’t give a shit. Just keep that bitch on a leash, or next time, I’ll kick your ass.” Andy barked.

I looked back to see her scrambling to grab her things and make her way out the doors that lead to the football field. Jason and his idiot friends had been treating her like this since she arrived. They had initially tried to get in her pants and when she refused they called her things like prude, virgin Mary, but then it escalated to slut and whore. And now their name of choice had been bitch.

I made quick haste of following her, something in me just needed to make sure she was okay. As I moved to trail her, my foot made contact with something. I glanced and recognized it immediately as the notebook she’s always carrying. I picked it up and a few pages fell out, leaning over to grab them, my breath escaped me. The words and images scrawled on these pages were dark.

I picked up the pace and saw that she was headed to the picnic table in the clearing. I wasn’t far behind, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t startle her, so I called after her, just as she was sitting down.

“Hey!”

“What do you want?” She snapped.

“I uh, I wanted to make sure you were okay. Plus, I wanted to give this back to you.” I explained.

“Did you go through this?” She accused.

“No, but some of the pages fell out and I did see them…you’re not gonna go through with it are you?” I asked.

“Dude, that is none of your business. It’s not like anyone would miss me anyway.”

“I would.” I mumbled.

“You don’t know me.” She said.

I moved to sit next to her on the bench, sure to leave her enough space. Being this close to her, I could see how her skin looks dull, her cheeks sunken in, her hair looked brittle. In front of me was a girl who was going through a really hard time, and I wanted to do anything in my power to lift some of her burden.

“I don’t know much about you, but I’d really like to. I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Jason’s torture.”

“Eddie, if they think that they can make me cry more than me, they’re wrong. It’s my voice in my head telling me I’m better off dead. Not Jason’s, not Andy’s, mine.” She explained.

I was speechless, I truly couldn’t believe that she felt this horrible. I had seen this girl and the amazing things she was capable of; she had silently helped others in her time here. She would loan out a pencil if it was needed, she had given her lunch to a kid who couldn’t afford it, hell, she had pulled a kid out of the way of Andy in the hall just last week so they wouldn’t have to endure what she did today. She was such a good person and he wished she could see it.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” I asked her.

“I guess…you already know way too much about me.” She shrugged.

“In your notebook, I saw something about you hurting yourself…is that true?”

She looked down at her hands, resting in her lap. I was fully expecting her to tell me off and walk away, I had clearly pushed a boundary. But instead, she reached for her zipper, pulled it down and slid her jacket off her shoulders. She folded it neatly and placed it on the table, revealing her arms to me. A choked noise escaped my throat as my eyes roamed over the number of scars that littered her arms. There were scars that were clearly from cigarettes, other burn type scars and a bunch of neat parallel lines that varied in color. Some were white and obviously healed, some were raised scars from the depth, and some were red and recently scabbed over.

“It’s bad. I know.” She shook her head, a tear falling and landing on her jeans.

“Hey, there is no judgement. I just, I am curious to know why.” I replied.

“Why? I don’t…I’ve never been asked that before. I mean my parents treat me like shit, my dad likes to fight when he’s drunk. And my mom, she belittles me every chance she gets…she thinks depression is a joke and that I am making things up. Even after being diagnosed, she still thinks I am trying to get attention, she withholds my prescription from me sometimes.” She paused, she looked surprised at herself that she’d been able to vent freely.

“Honestly Eddie…by inflicting physical pain, I am able to shift my focus to that instead of the emotional pain. It allows me this release of all the horrible shit I am feeling after dealing with school or home.”

I looked at her, gently reached up to brush a strand of her hair back and then grabbed her hand. I locked eyes with her again, to make sure she was okay with this, and when she nodded subtly, I brought her wrist to my lips and placed a light kiss there.

“I just want the pain to end Eddie.” She sniffled.

“I know that things are really shitty right now, and I’m not going to sit here and tell you that it’ll get better, but I do know that there are steps we can take to improve it little by little and I want to help you do that if you will let me.”

*Two Months Later*

I had just gotten to school and made my way to her locker and waited, just as I had done every day for the last two months. I had promised her that I would be by her side in any way I could, and I wasn’t about to break that promise. Only, today she didn’t show. Maybe she was running late…right? I headed off to English and hoped I would see her in third period for math. When she wasn’t there, I knew I had to find her.

I left the school and drove straight to her house; I couldn’t stomach the thought of what I might find. I didn’t want to drive without knowing if she was okay, but I also couldn’t waste any more time.

I didn’t take the time to park, leaving the van diagonally in her driveway. Rushing over to the door and throwing it open.

“Hey peach, you here?” I called out, hoping she’d be sick on the couch, but when I was met with silence I made my way to the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Peach?”

I heard a quiet sob come from the bathroom and began knocking.

“Hey peach, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“No Eddie, go away, please.” She cried.

“You know I can’t do that, not until I see you’re okay.” I pleaded.

The lock to the door clicked after a moment and I quickly opened the door. The sight I was met with was one I never wish to see again. She was sat on the bathroom floor in a tank top and shorts, drops of blood were pooling on the tiles below her. Only it wasn’t of her own doing, she had a black eye, split lip and eyebrow, a sizeable cut across her cheek, and bruises littering her arms and legs.

“Peach. Who did this to you?”

“Eddie…”

“Peach. Who. Did. This.”

“My dad.” She sobbed, dropping her head into her hands.

I had to take a deep breath to calm myself. My vision was tinted in crimson, rage filling my being. I knew I needed to keep my cool though, I didn’t want to upset her anymore than she already was.

I looked at her and asked her if I could help clean up those cuts. She nodded and let me lift her to the countertop. I cleaned and bandaged her cuts and helped her to her room, I told her to lie down and went to grab her a water and some Tylenol. Once in the kitchen I grabbed the phone, dialing home.

Hey Wayne…I need a favor. My friend, That girl you call peach? yeah peach. Are you with her now? Tell her I said hi! I will Wayne. She uh, she needs a place to stay. Eds we shouldn’t get into other people’s business…plus she’d have to stay in your room…and I don’t want any funny business under my roof. No, I know. Wayne it’s bad. She can stay here. Okay, thank you.

I made my way back to her room and handed her the water and Tylenol. I didn’t know how to suggest to her that we pack all her stuff and get her out of here, but I know I needed to. She deserved to be in a home where people loved and cared about her…not stuck here in this hell her parents have created for her.

“Hey peach…”

“Eddie…”

“You go first.” I suggested.

“I um, I know it’s a big ask…but do you think maybe I could…you know what never mind.” She shook her head.

“I called Wayne when I was downstairs. I asked him if you could stay with us, and he said yes.” I explained.

“Really? Thank you Eddie!” She sniffled and pulled me into a hug.

“Let’s get you packed!”

After gathering her things, we made our way out to the van. She left a note for her parents explaining that they didn’t need to worry about her, not that they had before. And we headed back to the trailer. Wayne came outside to help bring her things in as we pulled up, when he saw her face, he glanced at me and gave me a short nod. We got her things inside, and I helped her unpack some of her stuff.

Wayne ordered us a pizza and bid us goodnight as he left for work. I let her shower first and then after we’d both showered and brushed our teeth, we got into bed. Only after she told me it was unacceptable for me to sleep on the floor.

“I gave him the finger.” She whispered.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“He was yelling at me and calling me names. I uh, I gave him the finger and told him to go to hell.” She explained.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled “I’m not going to tolerate being called useless, stupid, or being told I am too hard to love. Not by them and not by me. Not anymore.” She turned over and smiled at me.

I couldn’t help but smile back. She was so easy to love, and I couldn’t wait to show her that.

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sweetstarryskies · 2 months

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@wolfstarmicrofic | Draught of the Living Death | 685 words

Note: Mature themes and references to sex, nothing explicit

Sirius and Remus are friends. Best friends. Sure, they might hold eye contact longer than necessary. They might be more touchy with each other than with anyone else. Maybe their banter turns flirtatious so quickly they often don’t even realize. But they are just friends. Friends that flirt sometimes.

Sirius is sitting on the couch closest to the fireplace. He is lazily doodling stars and half-crescent moons all around the instructions for the Draught of the Living Death, not paying attention to the homework assignment he’s supposed to be working on with James. James has his Potions book open as well, he is lounging in an armchair, feet resting on the coffee table in front of him. Peter is sitting on the floor, a piece of parchment on the same table, drawing a Mandrake. Sirius looks up to watch Remus who is sitting on the couch with him, book in his lap, back resting against the armrest, legs spread out across the cushions, feet buried under Sirius’ thighs.

James interrupts the comfortable silence: “Do you ever think about our professors having sex?”

“What the fuck, James?” Peter groans, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, dropping his feather. Sirius starts cackling and Remus just looks at James, slowly shaking his head. Sirius stops laughing: “Hmmm, honestly, can’t say I have, Prongs. Why? Who would you want to shag out of all of them?” Peter drops his forehand onto the table, mumbling something about being too sober for this conversation. James’ answer comes out a little bit too quickly: “Flitwick.” Sirius nods and hums thoughtfully, Peter sighs and picks his feather back up. Remus looks at Sirius now: “Are you thinking about Minnie?” Sirius stares at him in shock: “Oh, absolutely NOT, Moony. That is revolting. I do have mommy issues, but they do not go that far.” Remus chuckles and looks back down at his book.

“I don’t know,” Peter muses, apparently giving into the others’ nonsense, “I think I could show Minnie a good time.” James throws his head back laughing while Remus is chuckling again. “Oh, please,” Sirius replies, “Pete, you probably think the G-spot is where gangs meet up.” Peter glares at him, head turning red like a tomato. But before he can say anything, James interferes: “And what do you know about G-spots, Pads? Aren’t you ‘as gay as they come,’ like you always say?” The usage of air quotes is accompanied by James’ shit-eating grin. Sirius exclaims, clutching his heart in mock-defense: “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve had sex with women before my gay awakening.” Remus looks up: “That alone does not speak for your G-spot-finding-abilities,” he deadpans. “Oh, and what makes it your forte, Moony? You’ve never even had sex with a woman, as far as I know,” Sirius replies, smirking back at him.

Before Remus can reply, Peter speaks up: “Actually, I think Moony can make anyone feel good.” Sirius tries to retort something sassy but is caught up by images appearing before his inner eye; ways in which Moony could make someone feel good…

James’ grin widens when he agrees with Pete: “Yeah, Moony can definitely find any and all important spots.” Sirius just scoffs, and feels himself blushing. Remus wiggles his toes that are buried underneath Sirius’ thighs: “See, Pads?” With that grin that makes Sirius’ heart skip a beat. He stares back for a second too long. Flustered, Sirius averts his eyes to his Potions book, trying to think about draughts instead of dicks.

A moment later, he feels Remus shift, sitting up and scooching over to sit next to Sirius, nudging his shoulder: “Awww, Pads, don’t pout.” Remus leans in closer and lowers his voice to speak quiet enough for only Sirius to hear: “Do you need me to make you feel good?”

At that, Sirius gets up very abruptly, snaps his book shut, throws it back at the couch, and stomps over to the staircase. On his way to the dorm, he can practically feel Remus’ eyes on him.

This whole ‘Friends who Flirt-Thing’ was definitely getting out of hand.

#wolfstar #marauders fanfiction #this is my first ever piece of writing i am posting #this is nerv wrecking #remus lupin #sirius black #sirius x remus #idiot wolfstar #i like to think they are all very sassy #remus is just waiting for sirius to crack haha #poor pete #sirius is a little shit #remus is so meannn lol #marauders era #peter pettigrew #james potter #one shot: wolfstar

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sin-djarin · 9 months

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Video Nasty (Joel Miller x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit 18+. MDNI.

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Your quest to clear out the basement leads to an unexpected discovery.

Warnings: SMUT, porn with minimal plot, unspecified era, mentions of food, no mention of age (reader is in late 20s), unprotected P in V sex (don't do this, be safe), sweat, creampie. No use of y/n.

A/N: Listen. I don't know anymore. Forgive me for any typos or grammar errors please.

You can read other snippets from this here:

Video Nasty II: Restricted Viewing

PLEASE PUT YOUR AGES IN YOUR BIO. I REALLY DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO BLOCK ANYONE.

Reblog and comment to make your writer's day.

There was one task you had been putting off every weekend since you got here – going through the boxes of stuff in the basement. That’s all it was known to you as – stuff. Stuff and probably junk. About six or seven cardboard boxes - only identifiable with your name or Joel’s on written in marker on the front of them. All of them holding your belongings that had yet to be sorted through waiting to be assigned their places throughout the house.

When the seasons changed you wondered where that certain cosy sweater might be or where the mug you’d had since college went. You just never looked for it. Only the essentials had been taken out of their boxes – enough plates and glasses to eat and drink with along with some other day to day necessities like underwear and socks.

But today you were taking the plunge. The day passes you by as you sort boxes of your old jeans, bras that no longer held their shape, notebooks and sketchpads full of doodles, and piles of CDs and cassette tapes. It took so long because every time you pulled something out a decision had to be made – keep it or donate it. In other words; keep the memory or lose it. When you pulled up a t-shirt, it’s too easy to relive the moment you wore it to that fourth of July party ten years ago. And that’s all of this is now – memories. You sigh at the thought but find a small mercy in the fact you can always make new ones.

Joel’s boxes are easier to go through than yours. Mountains of entangled cables each with an unknown function, screwdriver sets with some parts missing, dozens of old different sized and shaped batteries. Most of this, you guessed, could go straight in the trash. As you come to the end of his second box, a smell of pepper and basil hits your nose. Hours have gone by.

“Dinner” his voice booms from the top of the basement stairs, calling you to the kitchen.

“Just a second” you reply.

There are only a few items left in the box. If you finish, you can eat dinner with a sense of accomplishment. Quickly you take out the stacks at the bottom and start to make decisions about the various sheets of papers in your hands. A few old drill manuals – he doesn’t use this brand anymore – trash. Baseball cards – keep – they could be worth something.

The last thing in your grip is a square white envelope that’s beaten up. But it’s sturdy. Flipping it around, the view through its clear plastic window makes your jaw drop. It’s a DVD. The disc itself is white with big red letters that say NASTY NURSES VOL VI. In a smaller font underneath reads five minute preview – not for resale. A giggle escapes you at the thought of Joel watching something so cliché. Opening the envelope to pull the disc out to get a better look you can see it’s been used – the scratches and fingerprints make that clear.

“Hey” you jump as he calls for you a second time.

“Coming!”

You shove the disc in the front pocket of your sweatshirt and climb the stairs to the kitchen.

He’s already sat at the small dining table, hunched over and half way through a plate loaded with pasta in a tomato sauce and chicken. Taking your seat opposite him, you try to hide the grin that threatens to spread across your face. You know something he doesn’t.

“How’d it go?” he asks, with a mouth full of food, his head only inches from the dish.

“Yeah. Went through everything” you tell him. Your chewing making it easier to disguise your smile.

“You look pretty happy about it. Are we keeping a lot?”

“Not really. Tried to get rid of as much as I could”

“Right” he nods and continues to shovel forkfuls of pasta into his mouth.

You’re starving but you only pick at your dinner. Your thoughts are stolen by what could possibly be on that DVD. More than likely, it’s not anything brilliant. But the idea of what Joel did while watching it is all consuming. It’s not a taboo image – him getting off to porn. But it is distracting, more tempting than the food on your plate. And he notices.

“What’s wrong? Too much salt?” he asks, one eyebrow arched.

“No, no. It’s great” you bite your lip, trying to stifle that same smirk.

“You should eat” he points to your plate with the silver fork. “Been down there for hours and it’s late”

He’s right; it is late. Late for eating dinner anyway. You take his advice and eat until you’re comfortably full. When you’re done, you lean back into the wooden chair and he carries your plate away to the sink. Watching him clean up doesn’t help, it only sends your mind into a whirl. His broad back is turned to you – one arm holding the plate steady under the running water, the other moving backwards and forwards holding a sponge while his head bows, looking down at what he’s doing.

He shuts off the faucet and spins back around to you, wiping his hands with a towel.

“What’s that?” he points to your stomach.

You look down, expecting to find a mess of sauce down your black hoodie but it there isn’t one. But there is the corner of the envelope peeking out of your pocket. Fuck.

“Just uh…something I found” you say, hoping your answer would satisfy him.

“Can I see?” he rolls his eyes.

You hesitate for a second, quickly running through the outcomes of showing him the secret you had inherited from him. He could be embarrassed, he could feign ignorance and claim it’s not his – that it just fell into a box of his stuff.

You take it out and hand it over to him. His eyes fall down to study it, eyebrows knit together as he recalls the moving pictures. He runs a hand over his mouth and it falls to his side again before his eyes dart to yours to see what you’re thinking.

“I, um” he clears his throat, his Adams apple bouncing up and down in his throat as he does.

“It’s okay, Joel” you smile reassuringly.

“Yeah, no. I-“ he shifts his weight on his heavy boots.

You stand and run a hand down his arm not wanting him to become uncomfortable about it. Because he shouldn’t be. It’s an acceptable activity. You start to walk away from him towards the stairs with the smile very much settled on your face now.

“This what you were smilin’ at?” his voice comes from behind you as you leave him along in the kitchen.

________

The hot water of the shower blasts away all the dust and fluff that gathered on you on your journey to declutter. It feels like a weight has been lifted, as you mentally check the day’s activity off your to do list. While you throw on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of underwear for bed, you think about your discovery. You didn’t think he was too embarrassed, but you do assume that it’s something neither of you will bring up again.

When you step out of the bathroom, Joel has already changed out of jeans and flannel shirt and swapped them for his usual sleep outfit of a tank top and heather gray boxer briefs that both hug his muscular body. He sits on the edge of the bed, one leg resting on it and his other foot planted to the floor. The only light on in the room is the lamp on your beside table as you make your way over to your side and sit back against the headboard, taking your pot of moisturizer from the drawer of the nightstand and begin applying it to your calves.

Joel hasn’t moved an inch. When you glance at him his lips are pursed as he combs his fingers back and forth through his moustache, eyes focused on nothing in particular ahead of him. Your intention wasn’t to embarrass him, but maybe you had.

Screwing the lid of your body cream back on and tucking it back into the drawer, you attempt to spark up a conversation about the whole affair but he beats you to it.

“Think we should watch it?” he mutters into his fingers, his gaze still targeted ahead of him.

Your brows raise at the question. This was taking a different route than you had mapped out for yourself.

“Do you want to watch it?” you counter.

“I mean. If you want to y’know, I just-“ he swallows hard. “Haven’t seen it in years” he explains, his voice is unsteady, like he’s trying to convince himself of the idea.

Shit. It must be that good. All five minutes of it. Of course there’s no denying it – you’re curious. he knows what’s on that DVD and you don’t – it could be anything. And the earlier idea of making new memories is more appealing now than ever. He wants to share it with you.

“Put it in” you smile.

He gets up to and inserts the DVD into the side of the TV – a feature that you had never really used for anything other than rewatching movies that had grown to be a comfort to you on a bad day.

He resumes his position, sitting on the bed bent forward with one elbow resting on his knee while the other holds the remote. You brace yourself, sitting back against your pillows. He scrolls through the output options and selects DVD from the menu. With one final look over his shoulder at you, he presses play.

Immediately after the rated R disclaimer, overly enthusiastic moans blare from the speakers. A blonde woman dressed in a flimsy white nurse outfit that stops just above the knee appears. The camera pans down her legs to show off her matching white lace stockings. The next clip has her on her back on a gurney, legs spread open wide as she plays with herself. She’s interrupted by another actor, dressed in a lab coat. You can see where this is going…

Joel is completely focused on the screen, eyes are narrowed and his teeth terrorize his bottom lip. It’s difficult to tell if he’s enjoying it or not.

Meanwhile, the next clip has started. The nurse has shed all her clothes apart from her stockings and the doctors face is buried in her pussy. It’s unclear if she’s having a good time either. Her expression looks forced and you can’t see a thing he’s doing for the back of his head – you find yourself unable to compare his technique to Joel’s. Before you know it, she’s bent over and he’s pumping in and out of her from behind.

It’s all jump cuts - from scene to seedy scene and gratuitous oohs and aahs echo through the bedroom. Then she’s on top, after that she’s on her knees as the doctor stands above her as she moans something along the lines of give it to me. And right before the money shot – the DVD stops.

Joel leans back on the bed as the movie returns to the DVD menu that’s similar in design to the front of the disc. You’re not a porn connoisseur, but you’ve indulged enough to know that that was not quality viewing. You wouldn’t class it as sexy, just rough and ready. There’s no plot, no story and no happy endings for anyone. It’s just…porn.

“So what was your favorite part?” you question him, eager to know just why it showed so much wear and tear on the shiny plastic of the back of it.

He shakes his head. “Dunno” he sighs. He’s disappointed; his viewing experience wasn’t like he remembered it to be. Maybe there were too many people present to enjoy it.

“But you must have liked it before”

“Before, yeah” he agrees and lays down fully on his back beside you.

“Why? What was your favorite part?” he probes you now.

“I kinda liked it when she was on top of him”

“That right?” he turns his head towards you, ears pricking at your admission. “Why’s that?”

“You know why, Joel”

“No I don’t, baby. Gonna need you to explain that to me real good” he drawls, reaching over to grab your leg and maneuver you on top of his hips in a swift movement.

His palms run up and down your thighs that spread wide across his waist. You feel him becoming stiff underneath you already. The feeling of it and image of him broad, and willing beneath you is enough to send a warmth to your pussy.

“C’mon, now. Tell me” he pleads.

“Can feel it better”

“Feel what better?”

Fed up of waiting for clarification, his fingertips slide underneath the fabric of your underwear and you jolt as they brush over your clit, travelling down to part you. He licks his lips as your slick coats their skin. Slowly, you start to rock against the heel of his palm, evoking a high pitched moan at his touch. He stares up at you, eyelids heavy with lust over brown eyes as he watches you move at your own speed, allowing you to take what you need.

“Feel this better?” he rasps as his middle finger slips into you.

“Yeah” you breathe, leaning on his toughened chest for support as you vary your movements, alternating between up and down and back and forth, keen to feel as much of him as possible.

His ring finger enters you next and the sudden fullness makes you gasp but the stretch is wonderful. But it’s not long before the heat of both of you grows to be too much for him. He removes his hand and pushes at your sides so you stand above him. You can see the patch of gray material that’s become a darker shade around his leaking tip that’s been confined to his underwear.

He’s quick to remedy it though – pulling down your underwear and his before lowering you back down on top of him, only straightening back up for a second to pull your t-shirt over your head. You bend forward to wrap your hands around his neck he raises his head slightly to meet your mouth for a hungry kiss. It’s fiery and uncoordinated – all teeth and tongue but you both meet each other's deep moans at the sensation.

His fingers dig and curl themselves into the hair at the back of your head while you start to slide your slick folds along the thick length of his cock, the smooth head of it making a delicious contact with your aching clit.

“Can you cum like this, darlin’?” he wonders, purring into your neck while his hands slither down your ribcage to knead your breasts.

Instead of an answer, you raise up off him to anchor yourself with your knees either side of his hips and rest your hands on his shoulders, pinning him in place to feel the friction of his bare cock against your clit. His hands travel to the curve of your ass to guide you along.

“God” you pant. “Yeah, Joel” you warn him as that spark begins to ignite in your abdomen.

You push your hips harder into him, desperately chasing your orgasm now. The growing heat of it creeps up your back and he swipes the hair out of your face to see your eyes tighten and your mouth fall open when it finally crashes over you and you’re left breathless, pulsing on his cock.

Joel lets you catch your breath for a minute, calloused fingertips skating over the soft skin of your back as you recover from your release.

“Think you can take me? It’s okay if you can’t” he cups your jaw to look at him.

You steady your breathing. He’s not done yet, despite his cotton tank top that’s ridden half way up his stomach growing damp with sweat as it clings to his torso. Tiny pebbles of it forming on his forehead. And truthfully, you weren’t finished yet either. Not with him under you like this –still leaking against his belly – needy.

He offers you his hand to help you position yourself over him, knowing your legs aren’t to be trusted after moments ago. His free hand wraps around his cock, holding it steady for you to slide onto. Inch by inch it stretches and fills you, your soft walls encasing him. He grunts through gritted teeth, head pushes back into the mattress once he bottoms out. It takes a second for you to adjust to this new fullness.

“Jesus, baby. Fuck” he hisses as you slowly start to rock, bodies finding a synchronized rhythm.

Every time your hips rise and sink back down on him the head of his cock hits that spot at front. He’d asked, but you couldn’t articulate why it feels better. Joel can only watch as with each bounce you become a little bit more breathless and your movements a little less graceful trying to angle him perfectly below you. You’re lost in all of it; the filthy slick sounds, the vibrations of his deep hums and the swell of him inside you.

He interprets it well, you think when he brings his hand to his mouth to lick his thumb and starts to massage your clit with the soaking pad of it. He applies enough pressure to draw you dangerously close to another orgasm.

This picture of Joel through bleary eyes writhing below you is more sinful than anything your mind had created when you imagined him watching that DVD by himself. The lamp throwing light from behind him highlights the flexing muscles in each bicep and forearm as they work to hold you. The speed of his chest rising and falling faster underneath his tank top that is virtually stuck to him like another layer of skin is mouthwatering. You did that – not a DVD. The thought of that alone coaxes another tidal wave of pleasure to rip through every nerve ending. There’s no energy left to scream, you only manage a choked cry through a dry mouth while the aftershocks of it cause you to clench around his thickness.

Your body hangs heavy over him as he moves his hands to grip the meat of your ass, lifting you ever so slightly and begins to thrust at his desired pace. The veins and tendons in his neck bulge as he pistons in and out of you, hunting for his own orgasm. With every stab his fingers dig deeper into your skin.

“Hmm. Fuck” he curses and whines, air puffing from his flared nostrils as it hits him.

You feel him spill inside you, its heat coats you. One hand leaves your ass to push your shoulder back, signaling you to sit back and be fast about it.

“N-no. I’m not done” he warns and dips his waist to pull himself out of you. Another two ropes spray over your lower belly and drips down your thighs. Your heavy eyes widen at the sight of it, skin burning at the feeling of it, taking you both by surprise.

You collapse on top of him and lay your head on his shoulder. His heart is hammering against his sternum but yours is matching it beat for beat. Both of your bodies are spent, only focused on stabilizing your breaths in a rooms that feels likes it’s starved of oxygen. Your earlier shower was futile you think as you lie messy on top of him.

“Maybe we can watch something you like next time” he heaves a deep, satisfied breath.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic

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