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demetris-cocksleeve · 3 months

Note

"Jasper teaching Y/n how to ride him"

I ask, with all the love in my dirty, perverted heart. Fix it.

I ain't even gonna ask anonymously, because you know who it's gonna be.

(A/n: Your wish is my command~ (aka I'm lowkey scared of your wrath))

(Not proofread)

Word Count: 1,832

Summary- It's only fair that the cowbody gets cowgirled (Alternatively: TIME TO EAT, SLUTS🚨)

Warnings: Inexperienced reader, Creampie, Jasper calls reader "Darling," "Doll," and "Sugar" (I think there's one more, but I can't be bothered to scroll through and find it.) (It's not a missed warning - It's simply a surprise cunt throbber) (...sorry...)

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

(This specific gif is a lil inside joke, dont worry abt it lol)

Jasper Whitlock x Fem! Reader: Most Dangerous Game

---------------------------

Hands are everywhere- his hair, your jaw, his chest, your ass. Every touch makes as he moves from one place to another sets a trail of fire in its wake.

The kiss breaks with a gasp as Jasper's knee bullies its way between your legs, forcing you on tiptoe. The firm muscle bypasses the fabric of your skirt and presses against your barely clothed pussy in a way that sends your vision swimming. Even through your panties, the rough texture of his pants creates an addictive friction that causes you to chase more - rocking your hips down experimentally rewards you with even more of that coarse deliciousness and pulls a deep moan from you.

He wastes no time as you grind against his thigh, moving his lips to the hollow of your throat, licking and sucking at the area until red blooms across your skin in an intricate pattern of possession. Your hands desperately fumble to grasp anything they can, eventually ending up fisted in his hair. A warning growl rumbles deep in his chest as you tug on the soft blonde strands. Your proximity forces the vibrations through your own chest, weakening your knees.

Jasper presses closer, keeping you upright. His mouth finds its way back to yours as his hand comes up to your neck - fingers pressing into your pulse point as he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. He eagerly drinks up your sighs as your lips continue to meet in a battle of teeth and tongue; it's becoming less of a kiss as the heat between you increases, but it doesn't matter. Not when you can feel just how hard he is against your stomach.

He all but swallows your keen when he flexes his thigh. Your hips stutter when your clit rubs against the denim; a cry of his name leaves you without thinking at the stimulation. Another, more vicious growl rips through you both as he yanks you away from the wall and walks backwards towards your bed. His lips never leave yours as he falls backwards, pulling you into his lap.

"The things you do to me, Darlin'..." Jasper mumbles into the kiss.

The new position forces his hard cock to press against you and you can't help but press down harder. The pressure causes your head to drop against his shoulder; causes your jaw to drop as Jasper's hands slip to your hips, rocking you firmly against him.

You can tell he knows exactly when your throbbing cunt pulses out even more slick: you can hear his sharp inhale as it pairs with the way his fingers dip tighter into your flesh.

"I want you to ride me, Doll. Can you do that for me?"

It's only then that your movements halt. Freezing like a deer in headlights, you look at him with your mouth slightly agape. Neither of you are strangers to sex - hell, once Jasper got confident enough to let loose around you, there was a month when you were damn near fucking like rabbits. But of all the ways he's taken you, you've never been the one to be on top.

What if you're bad at it? How would you ever get over that?

"Darling," Jasper's voice cuts through your thoughts, definitely feeling your emotional turmoil. "What's wrong? Talk to me, Sugar." His golden eyes bore into you with a different intensity than before. His once heated gaze now only harbors concern as his thumbs rub gentle circles on your waist.

“It's nothing…” you mutter moving in to nose at his neck, pressing small kisses along the column in an attempt to bring the mood back.

His grip on you shifts, pulling you back a respectable distance to read your face. “Tell me what's wrong, or we're stopping right now, Darlin’."

Oh. Serious voice… As the realization that there's no avoiding voicing your insecurity if you want to get railed - which you do -, your face starts to heat, embarrassment flooding your veins.

Ever the patient man, Jasper waits for you to find the least embarrassing combination of words.

“I've never-” God, your face feels like it could smelt iron right now… “I've never rode anyone; I, um, I don't know how…”

Your voice falters to a whisper, but you know he heard you.

A grin starts to cut its way across his face, leaving you to balk. You know he isn't about to laugh in the face of your anxiety right now.

“You know what- forget I said anything.” you mumble, moving to get up only to be unceremoniously yanked back down.

“Where do you think you're going, Sugar?” Jasper chuckles, ducking his head to try to meet your gaze.

Ever the avoider, you look to the side, opting to pout about it since you can't storm out to the room all dramatic like you wanted. One of his hands comes up to brush some of your hair you were hiding behind.

“I'll teach you.”

Your eyes snap to his finally as the heat in your face starts to creep down your neck. “What?” You choke out.

“I said I'll teach you how to ride,” Jasper says, the humor in his eyes underlined with something darker- hungrier.

Your mouth goes dry from the intensity in them. Gulping, all you can do is nod, words failing you for a different reason this time.

“Yeah?” He hums. “My pretty baby wants to learn to ride me?”

His hands trail down to your skirt, slipping under the hem to trace the elastic of your panties. “Why don't you take these off, Sugar…”

His voice may be gentle, but you know a command when you hear it.

You slide off his lap, standing on shaky legs as you slide the thin fabric down.

“Skirt and shirt too. I want to watch my cock disappear in you while you grind those hips against me.”

You'd be lying if you said that didn't make something sinful twist inside you.

Once all the offending fabric is gone, you take a deep breath. Right now this is nothing new for you. You've been naked in front of Jasper countless times, this is fine.

His eyes never leave you as he works on his jeans - unbuttoning and unzipping them before shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. He curls two fingers to beckon you closer, other hand leisurely stroking himself, smearing his precum along the shaft.

Settling yourself back in his lap, you slightly fumble, trying to steady yourself. Back in new territory.

“Easy…” Jasper soothes, holding your waist. He stops fisting himself in favor of manhandling you into position.

Your knees are spread to rest just away from his legs, and your hips angled above him by the time he is done adjusting you. One of his hands slips down once more to line up with your slit.

“Drop yourself, Darlin’. Slowly,” he guides. “Once the tip is in, roll your hips forward as you move further down.”

And so you do. Steadily, you push yourself down and forward as his cock slips further and further into your waiting quim. Within seconds, your hips meet his and he sits comfortably to the hilt inside you.

“That's it,” Jasper mumbles, hands lightly stroking your sides. “Can you lift back up and repeat that same motion for me, Sugar?”

“Yeah…” you breathe. This isn't hard, you think, lifting yourself up, not hard at all. Your hands steady you against his shoulders as you rock back down.

Jasper's head falls back with a heavy breath through his nose. “Fuck.”

You still. Did you already do something wrong? You're only two bounces in- are you really that bad at taking direction?

“You're doing great, baby, but if you keep clenching around me like that, I'm not gonna last,” Jasper chuckles, gripping your hips to force you to move again.

And just like that, he once again soothes your nerves. Perks of knowing the ins and outs of emotion, you guess.

So, you start your movements again, allowing his hands to go back to simply encouraging you. As you move, you find yourself growing more and more confident - adding in a few circles along with your roll forward, spreading your knees to take him deeper - the noises your experiments draw from Jasper have your eyes slipping shut and your head lolling forward to rest against his cool collar.

As you ride, you can feel to need for more steadily creeping up to you, forcing your hips to move faster, for you to grind your clit against him as you chase your release.

“Goddamn it-” Jasper hisses, burying his nose in your hair as he inhales your scent. “You're a fucking natural, Darlin’. C’mon, Sweetness, cum for me.”

A soft whimper falls from your lips at the praise, your face heating as you nuzzle further into him. Your thighs are starting to burn, but the ache in your pussy, the pure need to cum, outweighs any discomfort in your trembling legs as you start to slam yourself harder and more desperately onto his solid length.

You can feel your release. It's right there; dipping in and out of sight in a twisted game of desire, but you'll be damned if you lose.

You clamp down on Jasper, the sudden tightness causing even more of the delicious friction you're craving. The deep rumble that drags from Jasper's chest only pushes you closer, more and more noises drip from your lips as you all but ravage the man beneath you.

“Come on, Darlin’, give it to me- let me see how pretty you look creamin' all over my cock.”

You hips give a final jerk forward when his thumb meets you clit, the swollen nerves throbbing at the sudden shock of cold. With a sharp cry of his name, you cum.

Your nails dig into his arms as you rock against him, trying to prolong your high as long as possible. Not that you could stop if you wanted to - Jasper's hands are back to forcing your hips down, chasing his own release.

His hips have started to jerk up into you, meeting you movement for movement as he draw closer and closer to his own climax. Rambled praises have started to fall from him as he holds you tight. From mumbling about how beautiful you are sitting atop him, to growling out about how good your pulsing cunt feels.

The world's most dangerous game. And you've won.

Just at your limit, right before the stimulation becomes too much, Jasper finally empties himself into your heat. You though his growls before rumbled you, but the absolute animalistic sound that rips out of his chest as he loses himself in you uproots your very being. The knowledge that you can bring such a powerful creature, *the* Apex predator to such euphoria - the fact that such a magnificent being has allowed you to share in this game - has you shuddering in his hold.

#jasper hale smut #jasper whitlock smut #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale x reader smut

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talaok · 3 months

Note

i loved the hickey fic🥵

can i request a role reversal fic?

reader marks up joel and is unashamed about it

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

a/n: thank you love, hope you'll like this although its been so long you probably forgot about this. and if you're interested, this is the fic they were referring to

It was just you and Ellie in the kitchen this morning. You were laughing about another funny dream she had last night, this one involving Joel trying to tame a gigantic sheep so he could ride it or something, she didn't quite remember the purpose, not that it mattered.

But as you both quite literally felt on the verge of tears from the image the dream was painting in your minds, the main character of said dream, appeared in the doorway, throwing you both a dirty look as if watching two of the three people he loved the most in this entire world didn't fill his old heart with pure joy.

"It's too early to be this chipper" he grumbled, walking to you to leave a quick kiss on your cheek as he reached for the coffee pot behind you.

A gasp sounded from the other sound of the counter

"oh my god what happened to your neck?!"

And it was then, that Joel Miller, the unafraid, stone-cold killer of a man that he was, turned red from hairline to neck.

"O-Oh fuck I-" His eyes widened, his hand going to cover your work on his neck, but it was all useless, because the second Ellie's eyes landed on the smirk plastered on your face, she knew.

"oh my god ew" she groaned, rolling her eyes, her focus going back to the eggs on her plate.

"You remember Janine, that woman I told you about?" you explained, talking to her

She laughed at that, remembering your conversation about that woman who's always flirting with Joel.

"you filled Joel's neck with hickeys because of her?"

Joel wasn't even red anymore, he was turning purple, his eyes were wider than a deer's caught in the headlights, and you suspected he hadn't taken a breath since he first entered the kitchen.

"this..." you smiled, trailing your fingers on Joel's neck "is my own little way of telling her to keep her hands off my man"

Joel choked, he literally choked on his own saliva and just then, just when he was about to have a heart attack, Tommy entered the house, his eyes immediately going to the image before him with more than a little amusement.

"What have I walked into?" he grinned, walking over to the kitchen "And why does my brother look a breath away from exploding?" he laughed, his hands gesturing to Joel.

"y/n here was giving me way too much information that I certainly didn't want to know" Ellie explained, looking at you pointedly for the last part of her sentence, making you chuckle.

"About what?" Tommy asked

"About the work of art I left on your brother's neck"

"wha-Ohhh" he breathed, smiling like a smug bastard as he understood what you were talking about "Janine tried something again I presume?"

"You presume right" you smiled, giving Joel a little kiss on the cheek and stifling a smile at how terrified he seemed "for the last time"

"You ok baby?" you asked, stroking his cheek

His gaze was on Ellie, his mouth parted in shock.

"You still with us man?" she asked, giggling softly, making him shake his head to try and get his mind to start working again.

And then, then the words came tumbling off his tongue, filled with what sounded like pure panic

"S-since when do you know what a hickey is!?"

Everyone in the room except him laughed, but when the shock on his features persisted, and Ellie regained her composure, she answered.

"I'm not a kid Joel, I know what sex is"

Another pang to his poor heart,

he felt all the organs inside him twist into a knot

what the fuck was happening?

Did she just say-

"sex!?" he cried, looking a second away from having a mental breakdown "I-I never said sex- H-how do you even know- I- You- You're too young- I-I"

"ok ok ok" you tried your best not to chuckle, intervening before his heart really decided to stop "How 'bout we go outside for a moment huh? Take a few deep breaths? How about that?" you murmured, soothingly drawing circles on his back

He looked at you then, looking every bit as disheveled as he sounded

"y-yeah" he swallowed thickly, "I-I think that's a good idea"

He looked back at Ellie for a moment to make sure this wasn't a nightmare and he didn't just make that up, before you both left the room.

And as if on cue, the second you did, Tommy and Ellie started laughing like maniacs.

"I don't think I've ever seen him so scared" Ellie laughed, as Tommy sat next to her, patting her back

"Neither have I" he chuckled, none of them saying anything before an idea came to his mind.

a hell of a funny one

"ten bucks if you tell him you know what porn is"

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scatteredskittless · 2 months

Text

Hazbin Hotel crew x Reader: general fluff hcs

A/n: 100+ follower special !!

I’ve been doing a lot of headcanons lately so I pinky promise there’ll be some kind of oneshot coming soon 🙏

Warnings: None !! Just some good old fashioned fluff :3

Fluff✔️ Comfort❌ Angst❌ Smut❌

‧₊˚✧ Alastor ✧˚₊‧

📻𖤐 When Alastor forms a close bond with you (and I’ve mentioned this before), he’d want to spend more time with you. Even if that’s just sitting in silence together and reading your own separate books

📻𖤐 Who knows? Maybe he’d let you lean against him, head on his shoulder, as he reads to you?

📻𖤐 This guys primary love language is quality time for sure. A close second perhaps acts of service.

📻𖤐 Biggest mamas boy ever…. But I’m sure we all knew that already

📻𖤐 LOVES to go on walks with you, especially during the afternoon or at night.

📻𖤐 Would link your arm with his and chat with you as you went on your daily stroll together… you’re not quite sure when it became a routine but it did.

📻𖤐 Huuuggeee story teller

📻𖤐 100% laughs at dad jokes and will also make them from time to time

📻𖤐 Always winning every single IDGAF war because he genuinely, wholeheartedly, just doesn’t give two shits 💀💀

📻𖤐 Can’t swim. I don’t know how to explain why I think this but I just KNOW its true

📻𖤐 Freezes like a deer in headlights (quite literally) when you shine a bright enough light at him

‧₊˚✧ Angel Dust ✧˚₊‧

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Angel would be the absolute BEST at giving out hugs oh my goddd, he’s got six arms for a reason, baby !

🕸️ᥫ᭡ I feel like he’d have fun dancing !! (I mean “Loser, Baby” was enough evidence for me)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Competitive as fuck, UNO would actually be so fun with him 😭 (gets so genuinely excited when he wins too, gloating about it and everything like he just won the lottery)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Biggest shoplifter ever and most of the time it’s not even because he can’t afford it, he just does it for fun.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Smells realllyyy good all the time, he’s got the best perfumes ever

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Spa-days/Self-care days quickly become a Saturday night thing for you two once you become one of his besties. And I’m talking the whole shabang like face masks, candles lit and snack tray out as he paints your nails for you 💕

🕸️ᥫ᭡ It’s something Angel genuinely looks forward to as well (ᵒ̴̶̷᷄⩊ᵒ̴̶̷᷅)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Primary love language is most likely physical touch, we’ve all seen how touchy he can get 🤞

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Getting to know his real name and getting to call him by it means he trusts you a lot, he doesn’t give that privilege out to just anybody.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ On a less serious note, he’s definitely a huge show off 💀💀

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Amazing at doing makeup, will do your makeup if you asked him to (might accidentally poke you in the eye or something though lmfaoo)

‧₊˚✧ Husker ✧˚₊‧

🍺🃁 Needs glasses and HAS them but just doesn’t wear them for whatever reason. He looks good in them though !!

🍺🃁 Cheats in any card game ever. Wins 9/10 against you because of that reason (he’s also a gambler so that’s a big factor as well obviously)

🍺🃁 Bros the type of guy to call you “doll” and “baby”

🍺🃁 Primary love language?? quality time 🙏 🙏acts of service and physical touch are both tied for second place (but you only ever really get the physical touch one if you’re his s/o)

🍺🃁 Again, we all saw “Loser, Baby” this mf can DANCE and he enjoys it too

🍺🃁 Jazz is one of Huskers favourite music genres for sure

🍺🃁 You two don’t really have a routine hangout type thing but he does enjoy it when you come around to the bar to just hang out with him while he cleans and whatnot :3

🍺🃁 Trust, you will be given a specialized nickname just for you once he considers you a close friend of his.

🍺🃁 He’s a great listener but gives very blunt advice, doesn’t sugarcoat shit if you ask him for his opinion on something.

🍺🃁 Weirdly caught up with mental health stuff, like he knows a lot about it

🍺🃁 Poor Husker does NOT like the cat noises he makes but he literally cannot control them 😭😭 (believe me, he’s tried)

‧₊˚✧ Vaggie ✧˚₊‧

🗡️☪︎ Vaggie is NOT a morning person, usually sleeps in until around noon

🗡️☪︎ Would have good fashion taste

🗡️☪︎ Vaggie is also a very competitive UNO player, probably ends up yelling at Alastor for making her pick up all those “pick up four” cards when everyone plays together (yes, he looks smug as fuck while doing it and yes he was saving them just for her 💀💀)

🗡️☪︎ Has beef with almost all of the guys at the hotel but Husker is chill for the most part

🗡️☪︎ Adding onto that last one, it doesn’t really take much for a man to piss her off tbh (she’s so real for this)

🗡️☪︎ Would spar with you if you asked and gets really into it too !! She’s careful not to actually hurt you though and it’s a great way of bonding with her (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

🗡️☪︎ Verrryyyyy jealous girl, remember when Emily took Charlie’s hands in the heaven episode?? (The look on her face made me giggle)

🗡️☪︎ Hates pickles. She just looks like she’d be a pickle hater

🗡️☪︎ Primary love language is words of affirmation

‧₊˚✧ Charlie ✧˚₊‧

⭐️☀︎ Charlie is infact a morning person and wakes up at the crack of dawn everyday for zero reason whatsoever 💀

⭐️☀︎ She does her absolute best to include everyone in every activity going on, she doesn’t ever want anybody in the hotel to feel excluded

⭐️☀︎ Biggest shipper EVER. You ever told her you have a crush on someone here?? Oh god..

⭐️☀︎ She’ll silently fan girl from a distance whenever you and your crush are together to the point Vaggie has to drag her away

⭐️☀︎ Charlie can be a little bit overwhelming at times but her happiness is suppeerrr contagious

⭐️☀︎ The best way to spend time and bond with her?? Literally just offer to do anything with her and she’ll do it, I don’t think she’s too picky

⭐️☀︎ Learnt some Spanish from Vaggie and tries to use it with her to be all romantic but her pronunciations are fucked up (She’s trying her hardest guys okay 😞🙏)

⭐️☀︎ Totally asked Vaggie one time as a pick up line if she fell from heaven and she broke out into a sweat (poor girl)

⭐️☀︎ Primary love language is words of affirmation. quality time is somewhere up there too though

⭐️☀︎ Will break out into song a lot and it’s kinda funny to watch

‧₊˚✧ Niffty ✧˚₊‧

🧼𐙚 Acts a lot like a hyperactive toddler on crack. Has zero chill and it’s pretty rare to see her actually calm

🧼𐙚 I think Niffty lowkey has stage freight, like we all see how she just automatically freezes up when a camera is on (I mean it’s happened twice in the show already)

🧼𐙚 Takes a lot after Alastor, sees him as some sort of older brother figure as well 😞🩵

🧼𐙚 When playing UNO, she’d fucking EAT the cards so she’d win. Deadass just nom nom nom that shit

🧼𐙚 She’s a big giggler, she’ll laugh and giggle at almost everything so it’s not hard to get her to do so

🧼𐙚 She’d probably really enjoy it if you let her just sit with you for a while and braid your hair (But she’d steal some for her “collection” in the process)

🧼𐙚 I’m actually not too sure what Nifftys love language would even be? Perhaps acts of service (she is a maid, after all)

🧼𐙚 Okay 99% sure this is actually canon but she’s a hardcore germophobe, can’t handle when things are cluttered or a mess.

🧼𐙚 Has a collection of cleaning supplies in her room

+ Bonus !!

‧₊˚✧ Vox ✧˚₊‧

📺☆ Whenever Vox is sleeping or thinking really hard about something, the voxtek symbol will bounce around on his screen like the DVD logo thing

📺☆ Not very big on pda, he has an image to uphold, after all. (But he would enjoy affection in private though)

📺☆ Not above watching you through whatever technology you have, he spies on you a lot 💀💀

📺☆ Also guys…… stop pretending Vox isn’t a whiny little bitch, because he is (trust me y’all, read some of @bigfatbimbo’s stuff)

Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/headcanons/writing without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ Scatteredskittles

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drowsy-opposums · 3 months

Text

Imagine if Alastor had a deer tail..

Imagine you’re his s/o and despite his usual demeanor staying the same with his sharp smile and all whenever he’s talking with you his short fluffed up deer tail is always wagging side to side happily.

Or cuddling with him in his or your bed and its lazily swishing around. Imagine catching him by surprise and his tail stands straight up before starting to flick around after realizing its you.. its the small things in life I swear.

#alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel season 1 #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #fluff #x reader #fluff x reader #hazbin alastor #deer #deer character #cute #writing #imagine #hazbin hotel imagine

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signedkoko · 5 months

Note

Could I pls get hcs about Vox having a fem! s/o who's close friends with Alastor's GN! s/o?? Like what's Vox's take on this friendship?? Because I feel like this is an interesting cocept lmao. Ty!! <3

Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which your close friend is dating the enemy of Vox; Alastor

Vox was the looming eyes behind every device in all of hell, so much so that his reach was beyond just pride- psychologically and informationally, at least

He knew everyone's secrets, whereabouts, relationships

Or so he thought

Because it was more than surprising when one late afternoon at dinner, your name was called by a face he vaguely recalled, another sinner who snuck to your table to greet you in a warm embrace

Oh yes, he certainly would remember someone so close to his mortal enemy

" Darling, have I ever introduced you to my lovely best friend? I'm so sorry I never called! It's been so busy since I found this one over here...! "

You pointed to Vox, giggling, though the tv was far from amused at the situation unfolding across the table from him

" Have I introduced you to my new boyfriend? He's super classy! "

As your friend spoke, a looming shadow closed in and wrapped its arm around your friends waist, another hand just inches from landing on your shoulder

That same hand was smacked away with a sudden screech of the heavy table moving and several glasses rattling

The whole restaurant had gone silent as Vox stood over you, claws digging into Alastors wrist and holding it high above your head

" My oh my! Was offering a kind embrace to my beloved's closest friend too much for you? "

Alastors voice was one you, yourself, recognized

Ah.

So you and your friend had a similar taste for media based overlords

nice

Vox was ticked off more than Alastor seemed to be, so you carefully pushed him away from the deer-like demon and made distance so Vox wasn't so worried about you being near him

" Let's talk later! Maybe we can set something up- just us two! "

Your friend called over their shoulder as they dragged Alastor back to their corner of the restaurant

Vox is just bewildered that of all people in hell, with SO many options, of course your closest friend had to be dating that asshole

" No double dates "

" I figured "

Author's Note - Teehee hi voxxxx its me koko your favourite writerrr 🖤Thank you so much for requesting!! I was a bit unsure of your request based off wording so I hope I caught it right!

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #vox #vox x reader

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mysicklove · 10 months

Text

Warnings: sub! izuku, ruined orgasm , nice->mean reader!, crying obvi, hand job

you sit in between izukus freckled legs, quickly but gently stroking his now flushed cock. he sits pliant for you, leg slightly jumping when you focus your antics on the tip. hes panting, red in the face and eyes slightly hazy. he sits leaned against the headboard, shirtless and gripping at the sheets beneath him.

"fuck. fuck. fuck. im close," he chants, staring at you with hearts in his eyes, and a lazy smile. his bottom lip glistens with saliva, and you watch him bring his hand up to wipe it away.

you grin at him, and press a kiss to the red tip. "yeah? do u wanna cum?"

his leg jerks at the feeling and he lets out a shaky gasp as his green eyes darts toward you. he gulps when he feels your second hand wrap around the shaft, a quivered whine escaping his lips. "can i? i-ive been good right?"

your smile softens, and you listen the squelching sounds of the lube combined with the now combined stroking of his cock. "you've been so good, Zu. but i wanna try something tonight."

his eyes roll slightly back, but he unconsciously leans forward toward you. his moans, the sound soft, but high in pitch makes your mouth water, and he in turn seems to be melting in your hold.

"i can't—don't edge me please!" he pleads, eyes locking on to yours and filling with tears.

you kiss his cheek, not stopping the movements of both of your hands. his mouth hangs open when he feels your thumb rub the top of the head. "shhh, im not, im not. youre so whiny, love."

he whimpers at the words, crumbling in on himself. "sorry. sorry."

"its okay, Zu, relax. lets have you cum," you say, gently pushing on his chest so that he leans on the headboard.

but still, he nods his head frantically, and tightens his hold on the sheets. "you're going to listen to me, right Izuku?"

he already seemed to forget about your earlier words, his mind hazy from pleasure. so his eyes slightly furrow for a second in confusion, but relax with another rough stroke. "yes, o-of course! Im close!"

"good boy. thats it, almost there," you purr, and he moans at the words, eating up every ounce of praise you give to him. he breathing begins to pick up, and his eyebrows furrow.

"cumming—fuck, Im cumming!" and the second you hear the words, you move your hands away and force his hands down, now pinning them to the bed. his eyes snap open in confusion and just in time for him to witness the first glob of cum to drip out.

"wait!"

his orgasm isn't hitting him as it should be. he should be withering and crying right now, but your hands are gone, and he is cumming alone. except his body is reacting, he is shooting his load but there is no pleasure.

hes shaking his head, eyes frantic when he feels more begin to shoot out. the poor boy is confused, thinking you meant to try to edge him, but failed. "w-wait! Ive already started. touch me quickly!"

when you dont move, he begins to rip his hands away from under yours. "stay, Izuku."

he can't help but listen. he always does.

so he stares at you like a deer in headlights and then a second later, tears begin to drip down his cheek. this is what you meant by trying something new. he wasn't feeling good, his orgasm was completely ruined.

you had to be torturing him. sobs begin to rack through his body as he watches more and more cum shoot out of his untouched dick.

"no. no. noooo." he cries, still pent up but at a loss. his mind was deranged, unable to make out the situation.

you stare, intrigued at the reaction and ignoring the tears. "woah, Izuku, thats so weird! its like your body reacted, but you didn't!"

but he can't talk, hes sniffling and sobbing still when the last drop drips out and onto his stomach. "s-so mean. dont like it. I didn't like it Y/N!"

you chuckle at him, a fake pout on your face as if to mock him. "you're not supposed to like it, silly. just wanted to see how you reacted."

he shakes his head, eyes blurry from the tears. hes still frustrated, all of that build up for nothing. he wants to have an orgasm. he wants to feel good. "I wanna cum. please!"

you tilt your head to the side, and he knows for sure now that you are mocking him. "but Izuku im confused, you just came?"

he clenches at the sheets and sobs.

828 notes · View notes

pedgito · 4 months

Text

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Three: Showers, Stolen Glimpses & Fireplaces (Week Two)

Chapter Summary: Another week bring new experiences and challenges and an opportunity to open up with each other, learning new things about Joel and a few moments of brief yearning that lead to a blow up of lust-filled proportions.

Chapter Warnings: (11k) no outbreak, joel goes fishin', more dinners together, joel being worried/caring, minor descriptions of a burn injury to reader, lots of touching, joel doubting himself, joel loves to whittle, joel opening up, strip card games and bad choices, drinking, mutual masturbation, the inappropriate use of a dining room table, protected piv, fingering, grinding, ect

There’s an eerie absence to the spot beside you when you awake, feeling the cold sheets and knowing that Joel has probably been up for a while. You feel heavier, the weight of the comforter dragging you down but you realize at some point Joel must have grabbed another blanket and draped it over you, rubbing your fingers against the fuzziness of the material. The door was closed, lights were off—maybe he had snuck to the couch in the middle of the night.

Eventually, you wander out of the bedroom, expecting a similar sight of Joel making his morning coffee or lounging around on the couch in silence, a peek into his normal routine outside of this place. You try to ignore how much your body craves the more aspect of it all. More of Joel, more of this.

But, Joel is nowhere to be found.

You wander toward the kitchen with a mission—breakfast first.

There’s a small note stuck to the coffee pot that was already filled and still hot, plucking the paper between your fingers you read the messy writing to yourself.

Went fishin’. Back in an hour.

— Joel

You can hear him saying it, snorting softly at the twangy voice in your head.

But, fishing? In the winter?

He had to be insane.

You can’t complain though, helping yourself to a warm cup of coffee and a quick breakfast, eating in the silence and enjoying the now clear sky as you take a seat at the table, a few sips into your coffee that was quickly growing cold and you feel so lost in the lack of thought, spotting a small woodland critter off in the distance burrowing a hole into a tree, completely oblivious to the large—very large deer that has creeped up on you, as curious of your presence as it should be and it’s already too late that you’re spilling your coffee over your chest at the sight, feeling fully awake now.

“Jesus, dude,” You talk to the animal on the other side of the glass, “seriously?”

It only cocks its head, waiting for a moment until you stand to gather things to clean up your mess and then it is gone within seconds, scampering off into the massive expanse of trees.

You force a breath through your nose and stare down at your coffee stained shirt, a pungent sweetness that felt sticky against your skin now. You resign to the idea that breakfast is over, placing your dishes in the sink and grabbing a towel to clean up the mess you made before traveling toward the shower.

You try to be efficient, void of any lingering thoughts and eager to wash the stickiness away from your body and swiftly finish, there’s a brief second where you poke your head between the gap in the door as you look for any warning signs of Joel and eventually decide that you have enough time to grab clothes from your room—which is a quick venture, knowing wet and cold don’t mix well.

Changing in Joel’s—well, effectively, also your bedroom is much more welcomed. You drop your towel without a care, laying out your clothes carefully over the half-made bed.

But, the comfort of being alone in your vulnerability is short-lived when Joel innocently mistakes the idea that you were still asleep, pushing the door open without warning and allowing himself a full glimpse of your naked body. Plush skin and the soft slope of your breasts as you turn, startled at the sudden intrusion. In any other situation you would have immediately switched to anger, given the intruder a piece of your mind.

You can only laugh, the shell-shocked expression on Joel’s face quickly morphing to a mix of fear and…something else. You don’t want to mistake it for what it isn’t, but his eyes wander for a brief moment before his brain restarts and he quickly apologizes.

“Fuckin’—I’m sorry…sorry,” He turns on his heels and shuts the door, but not before adding another, “Sorry.” You can hear him descending down the hall, pulling on the remainder of your clothes, the image of his eyes boring into the sight of you stuck in the forefront of your mind.

After a moment, giving Joel the time to collect himself, you approach him from where he’s lingering in the kitchen, working away at something you can’t see, his body acting as a shield.

You approach carefully and peer around his shoulder, noting the pile of fish stowed away in a cooler and immediately make a noise of disgust that pulls Joel’s attention your way.

Not addressing the elephant in the room, you say, “Why the hell are you fishing in the winter?”

Joel clears his throat and closes the lid, still valiantly avoiding the opportunity to turn toward you fully, like there was a level of vulnerability there.

“Trout are a winter fish,” Joel explains, “easier to catch around this time.”

“Oh.” You’re slightly disinterested, disgusted by the idea of raw and dead fish sitting a few feet away from you.

“I fish a lot,” Joel offers as a way to break the awkward silence, “back home.”

You smile half-heartedly, hoping that he might actually attempt to look at you when he speaks, silently wondering if he was going to attempt to avoid any type of eye contact with you the rest of the vacation—so, you quickly defuse the tension.

“Joel…” You test the waters, moving beside him to stretch yourself into the stool, leaning into his view to catch his gaze, “you saw me naked.”

Joel glances your way briefly—alright, better.

“That I did.” Joel offers.

“You apologized, I’m not mad.”

Joel stays quiet, the usual scowl creeping back on his face.

“If we’re being realistic, it was going to happen at some point.”

Joel doesn’t respond much, outside of an utterance of words you can’t hear and don’t bother to understand, shifting the subject back to the disgusting thing a few feet away from you both.

“So, I’m guessing you didn’t catch those for fun?” You ask curiously.

“Figured I could cook ‘em,” Joel offers, his shoulders relaxing slightly, “—guess I never asked, but you like fish?”

“When it’s cooked, yeah.” You joke lightly. “Do you always cook this much?”

Joel nods, finally chancing a look in your direction, noting the unlikely cheerfulness in your eyes—he knows he shouldn’t feel worried about overstepping a boundary like that despite what he thought, the things that have riddled his mind since the night before, and possibly even before that.

“I might need to convince you to give me a few lessons before we leave here,” You chide lightly, elbowing him, “I mean, if you’re open to that.”

“How about tonight?” Joel asks.

You smile wider, relieved that the incident this morning hadn’t completely broken Joel.

“Deal.”

—

Joel does the favor of descaling and taking a part the fish on his own, not sure you could stomach it if he asked you to help, so he saddles you up with a cutting board and a mix of different vegetables and allows you to head the task on your own, minus a few notes he offers about how to cut safely, quickly—your mind wandering when he slips the knife out of your grip and practically forces himself into your space to show the proper way, fingers curled inwards away from the knife to avoid nicking your fingers. It would’ve been great to catch his demonstration if your eyes hadn’t been locked on the side of his face the entire time and watching the way his jaw tensed when he started cutting.

During the actual process of cooking, Joel takes a more hands on approach. It was a vast difference from earlier, his eagerness to rid himself of your presence after the mishap—he’s hovering for safety, but also out of his own selfishness of wanting to be close to you, this being a perfect excuse.

You're tilting the pan at a dangerous angle that forces Joel to come from behind, leaving his spot where he had been lingering against the opposite counter to see what you could handle.

“You’ll burn yourself if you keep it like that,” Joel explains, arm slipping behind you to adjust the pan, finding the sweet spot, “right—now you spoon the butter over the top and it’ll cook it while the pan sears the other side.”

You glance up at him curiously, to which he quickly settles to the idea that he needs to be your second pair of hands as he guides you through the process, “And this is called?”

“Basting,” Joel explains, “eyes on the pan, darlin’.”

You nod, returning your attention to the pan. But, you can still feel Joel’s eyes as you turn away, and you know. After a few minutes, you feel the boldness to call him out on it, “Joel, eyes on the pan.” You turn again quickly, catching him in the act. Even under the thickness of facial hair you can see the faint blush on his cheeks and the faintness of a smile he tries to hide, “remember?”

Joe shifts you aside gently as he prys the pan from your grip, shunning you to watch now.

“Go sit,” He nods toward the stool on the exterior of the island, “I’ll finish up.”

And he does, working away quietly at the food before he’s sliding a plate your way, offering a fork up by the handle. You smile and take it with a soft look of appreciation.

“So, think you’ll take up cookin’ classes when you get back to Austin?” Joel jokes, digging into his own food as he comes to sit beside you.

“Probably not,” you decide, chewing thoughtfully around a bite, “I can appreciate it, but it doesn’t really…intrigue me, I guess.”

Joel surprises you with a quick reply, “What does?”

You’ve never really thought about it, wondering if that was why you felt so lost in your life. You didn’t feel like there was a driving purpose behind your actions, not that there needed to be, but it felt like you were spinning in circles with no direction to lead off in. You decide on a few things, mostly meaningless but it gives Joel an answer.

“Uh, books. Art…spending vacation with strangers,” A smile creeps on your face when Joel flicks his eyes up at you briefly, the lingering you that never escapes your lips even as it sits on the edge of your mind, “I like trying new things.”

Joel can’t ignore the double entendre it serves, but bites the inside of his cheek to force his thinking straight.

Two fuller stomachs later and the shared duty of cleaning up, because yes, Joel insisted this time, you were both nearly catatonic on the couch—you laid out on the couch with a blanket tucked up to your neck and Joel on the adjoining couch that was only inches from yours, feet resting against the table that was placed in the center.

You think Joel has fallen asleep, eyes lingering on his face as he scrunches his nose up and blows air through his lips, peeking an eye open to catch you in the process.

There’s no shame this time, hiding your quiet laugh behind the blanket.

“How do you feel about movies?” Joel asks curiously, rising from his seat lazily.

“They’re…fine?” You look at him with full confusion, following his figure as he moves around the living area, “Why?”

“Mean—how do you feel about watchin’ a movie?”

“Joel, we kinda need a television for that.”

And as if he was a fucking magician, he pads slowly toward the large area over the fireplace, careful to avoid any incident, shoves the curtain away that you had assumed was hiding another window—guess not.

“What the fuck?” You ask in utter shock, rising slightly from your position on the couch.

“You’re not very observant, you know?” Joel jokes playfully, in his own way.

“Only when I want to be.” You shrug, offering a mischievous smile that implies something that Joel isn’t touching—not a fuckin’ chance.

He quickly switches bases.

“I think I saw some old movies in the storage room when I got here,” Joel offers, “Stay put.”

As if you had the energy to move.

You slump back down, head resting in the arm outstretched beneath you.

Joel returns a few minutes later with some disappointment, “So—pretty sure these are all a bunch of foreign films,” flipping a couple of the covers back and forth, failing to discern anything of tangible recognition, “but, it’ll have to work.”

“What? You don’t know—” You snatch one of the cases away when he’s close enough, glancing over the cover, “French?”

“Do you?” Joel asks, genuine curiosity in his voice as he fiddles with the television until he can get the movie going, snatching the remote as he ignores his original spot now, shoving your feet aside gently.

You shrug, “Nope.”

It made sense, given the awkward angle and Joel’s sensitive, aching joints—a painful sign of his dwindling opportunity to live fully, always trailing behind the masses now, not as young and spry as he used to be.

You shift to your back, tucking a pillow under your head and jumping on the opportunity to outstretch your legs over Joel’s lap, his hands enveloping the expanse of your ankles covered by a pair of silly Christmas socks, the stitching of a reindeer and red puffball sewn into the material—Joel flicks the ball lightly and huffs a quiet laugh.

The voices on screen quickly mesh with the silence, both of you watching quietly, intently as you follow the subtitles on-screen, making back and forth comments about the story, nothing of significance as sleep wanes and bleeds behind your eyelids, eventually taking hold somewhere toward the end of the movie.

Joel calls out your name softly, wondering if you’re playing an innocent joke on him at first, but quickly realizes how exhausted you seemed, oblivious to the world as you slept deeply, head turned toward the couch and away from the flashing screen, expression slightly obscured by the arm slung over your face.

He half considers staying like this, admiring the sight of you so relaxed, knowing the lingering darkness that you both identified with washed away for a brief moment—comfortable in the presence of a stranger. The idea that you trusted Joel enough with your safety that you could fall asleep beside him, on him, without any worries. But, his bones are already starting to ache and he knows you’ll find a way to make him feel the ultimate wrath if he brought you to bed and opted for the couch for himself.

He moves carefully, hand sliding up your calf as he places them down gently. He tucks a solid arm under your knees and then your back, feeling the protest in his old knees as he bares your weight and carries you to the bedroom, thankful that you’re sound asleep and unmoving. There’s a moment when his heart stops as you shift when your body meets the mattress, but you never stir awake, shifting comfortably in the bed as Joel places the covers over you, repeating the process of placing a secondary blanket over the first and tucking it around you, something he’s always done for Sarah—not that this is similar, but it’s the natural instinct of taking care of in Joel, the need to protect and provide, it’s always been there, no matter how dormant.

He’s still careful to keep his distance, a makeshift barrier separating you both, but he sleeps peacefully—just like the night before.

—

Almost too peacefully, he’ll eventually realize.

You blame the instinct of your body searching for heat, Joel burning life a furnace beside you and in the haze of your sleep, you’ve snuggled up to his chest with your arms held close to yours—though his arm is draped over your side somewhere between the layer of blankets. You blink slowly, feeling the weight of his body pressed against you.

There’s a moment where your heart rate spikes, panicking for a brief moment before you find his face, buried into his pillow beside your head, snoring softly into the fabric.

He’s unaware, blissfully, sleeping like he hasn’t in years and his walls are down, selfishly craving your own body heat to mix with his own—and normally you hated the idea, feeling suffocated by the temperature and sweat, but in this weather and under the low light of the morning, it’s desirable.

Selfishly, you take a moment to admire Joel when your eyes finally adjust, staring up at him innocently as you scan his face, noticing the small cuts that have faded into scars and you freeze when he adjusts in his sleep, turning on his back now and relinquishing you from his hold, though his fingers still linger against your forearm and you can’t be bothered to move them. You spot the deeper scar near his temple, something that once was probably a nasty gash.

His beard is patchy in spots as his facial hair has grown out again, the unevenness of his salt and pepper beard slowly fading into his hair. You assume it used to be a perfect, stark black or a dark brown—curlier than it was now, but some of the pattern still remained where it wasn’t flattened out by sleep. He also seems to keep his neck trimmed up, stubble stopping somewhere around his Adam's apple.

You’ve never spent so much time looking—admiring, someone to this extent.

Maybe you were hoping to capture this version of him to store away in your memories knowing that you would never see him again, that maybe if you memorized him now he would be a part of you forever, even if only in quick flashes of your thoughts.

“Finally awake?” Joel asks suddenly, voice thick with sleep but his eyes remain closed. You jump slightly and it forces a chuckle from Joel.

“I fell asleep during the movie,” You gather when you finally pull yourself from the trance of admiring Joel, “didn’t I?”

Joel nods silently, raising a hand to run through his messy hair, scratching at his scalp idly.

“Did you carry me to bed?”

The answer seemed obvious, but the confirmation is something to ease your mind.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Joel apologizes, “you were sleepin’ pretty deep and I didn’t wanna wake you.”

Things grow quiet, you shifting on your side to lay comfortably against the pillow and Joel, still struggling to fully wake, keeps his eyes closed but turns on his side to face you.

“Any plans today?” You ask curiously, softer in tone than before.

“Think I might catch up on some sleep of my own, actually.” Joel admits, peeking his eyes open briefly to catch a glimpse of you as he feels you shift slightly, readying yourself to face the day as you slipped out of bed.

It feels weirdly domestic, having not shared a bed with anyone in the past thirteen or so years—and he wishes it felt unsettling, but it brings a comfort that Joel thinks he could find himself becoming addicted to.

“Can you figure out the fireplace?” Joel asks suddenly as you slowly depart for the door, catching your attention as your hand grasps handle.

Your eyebrows knit together in a look of ridiculousness, “Duh, Joel.”

It sounds confident, but admittedly, you were clueless.

—

The highlight of your day wasn’t managing to actually start the fire—you try to memorize what Joel had done, carefully arranging the logs in a delicate stack and adding a fair amount of kindling.

You could blame Joel for struggling so hard at first, but it was all you—Joel was just very distracting and you had eyes, so it only seemed fair to enjoy the view.

Tight jeans over taut, tensed thighs as he leans into the small space and adjusts the logs, strong muscled arms that could overpower you in a second—it also shouldn’t be mistake than Joel always makes an effort to basically flaunt his ass off when he leans inside to clean up the leftover ash.

Regardless, you find the highlight of your day comes later—not the long hours of staring off into the distance without a thought in your mind, other long sprints of reading books or wandering into the kitchen for a snack, but rather as you catch Joel tucked away in the small nook in the dining area, trashcan sat between his legs as he works away at something in his hands, small and delicate.

You watch him over the couch, arm tucked under your chin as you squint to focus and realize that whatever he’s focused on is wood, in the shape of something you can’t make out.

“Go on and ask,” Joel senses your eyes, “you look like you’re gonna hurt yourself thinkin’ so hard.” He hadn’t even looked your way—but then his eyes were flicking up to catch your guilty gaze.

“What are you doing?” You take the bait and ask.

“Ever heard of whittlin’?” Joel asks, shaving off a couple pieces into the trash, “Makin’ fancy stuff out of wood?”

Normally, Joel wouldn’t outright admit this was his hobby, only allowing the people who were lucky enough to take a peek inside of his home and gather their own assumptions—but with you here, barriers down and attraction high, Joel wants to let you in.

Little steps, he thinks.

Still, he battles with the idea of letting you get too close.

“S’that what you like doing in your free time?”

Joel shrugs, lips pursed together indifferently.

“Come on,” You tease, “I think it’s cool.”

Joel rotates the piece in his hand, rubbing off the extra shavings and admires it for a moment before taking a short breath and standing, walking your way.

You perk up immediately, awaiting his heavy footsteps as he approaches, offering the trinket up carefully—you rub your fingers over the softened, worn down edges and admire what Joel had been working so diligently on most of the day.

It’s a butterfly—nothing incredibly detailed, more cartoonish with bubble wings but the sentiment is there all the same.

“I like it,” You offer up, “something tells me you’re not a butterfly type guy, though.”

Joel snorts out a gentle laugh and retrieves the wooden butterfly from your hands, not mistaking the way his fingertips glide against your own, a featherlight touch that drives your mind to near insanity.

“It’s uh—“ Joel hesitates briefly, but remembers the small secret he shared with you during a moment of vulnerability, “for my daughter.”

“She likes butterflies?” You surmise, noticing the way Joel cradles it in his hands, rubs the wood gingerly with his thumb like he’s remembering something, your eyes looking up to find the sadness in his expression, subtle but there.

He quickly wills it away, nodding, “Yeah—got ‘em all over her room.”

You ignore the glaringly obvious matter at hand. Joel was here, his daughter was not, and it clearly had some extent of an affect on him. He’s allowed himself to suffer in silence and you’re starting realize that—luckily, you had an idea.

Not a brilliant one. But, it was something.

“Hey,” You call out, pulling at his sleeve as he starts to retreat back to his seat, nearly unphased by your touch now, he looks down at your hold on his wrist, then at you, “let me cook dinner for you.”

It’s an insane concept—and you read the reaction all over Joel’s face.

“Oh, stop,” You push him gently, “seriously—I can handle basic stuff, just let me try?”

You add an irresistible pout that Joel can’t deny.

He caves with a soft, “Sure.”

—

Spaghetti seemed like a safe option.

You were wrong.

The noodles were a breeze, thankfully. But, gaining ambition in an attempt to make your own sauce from scratch and take on the challenge of adding meatballs was a recipe for chaos.

First, you manage to slice your finger when you ignore Joel’s previous instruction about tucking your fingertips in—

“Fuck.” You hiss, dropping that knife as it clatters against the cutting board, Joel immediately pushing away from his spot a few feet away to check that you hadn’t somehow managed to stab through your hand entirely.

Thankfully, it’s nothing major. Joel tracks down the bandaids and is careful as he dabs the trickle of blood away with a napkin before helping you wrap the bandage around your pointer finger, ordering you to start on forming up the meatballs as he cleans up the mess and finishes dicing up the vegetables for the sauce.

But, again, the peace is short lived.

Though, you can’t fully blame yourself on this one.

Placing the formed up meatballs in the pan with a soft sizzle, Joel passes behind you with a soft warning and a hand on your waist to avoiding bumping into you entirely, but instead the feeling of his touch is a surprise and you jolt forward, lower abdomen hitting the scolding hot pan, sending you into a panic as you half yell, half sob at the immediate impact and back away furiously, sending Joel backwards into the counter behind you, your back smacking against his chest.

“Goddamnit!” You shout in frustration, lifting up your shirt slightly with your uninjured hand, spotting the quickly growing red patch of skin.

Joel quickly switches off the burner to pull his focus on you, reducing the chaos to allow you to calm down as he approaches, grabbing a paper towel that he wets with cold water before hesitantly pressing his fingertips against the edge of your shirt, looking for the permission he needs.

You nod and move your hand, allowing him to raise your shirt higher, “It’s nothin’ major, just gonna sting for about an hour or so probably. Keep this on there and it’ll help with the burning.”

You do as you’re told, letting him guide your hand to replace his own and catching the seriousness in his eyes.

“Go, sit.” He orders, nodding in the direction of the dining table, “I’ll finish up.”

You sit with the frown of a scolded child, holding your injured stomach and watching Joel cook, feeling even more defeated as he keeps checking on you, that doting look that could melt your heart if you weren’t so annoyed at your inability to handle something so simple.

Eventually, Joel wraps up cooking but doesn’t immediately plate anything, walking towards you leisurely as he motions with his fingers for you to stand and removes the damp paper towel, tossing it aside as he touches the back of his fingers against the burn—you can’t help but since slightly, but the sting is much more dull.

“Still hurt pretty bad?” Joel asks, hand unmoving against your skin, both of your eyes locked on the contact, sinking and rising with the shallow breath you take.

“I’ll survive.”

You look up at Joel sheepishly, spotting him chewing away at the inside of his cheek in thought before he’s backing away from you suddenly, searching through cabinets for something, silent as he looks.

When he finally finds what he’s looking for he cradles it in his hands with a tight grip, approaching and forcing your shirt a few inches higher, just above your navel.

“Honey?” You look at him, puzzled.

Joel nods, dolloping a small amount on his fingertips and using his free hand to hold you steady by your waist, your hands occupied with the hem of your shirt, fingertips pressing against the burn as he spreads the thick, syrupy liquid.

“Let me go searchin’ for that first aid kit,” Joel tells you, “think I saw it under the bathroom sink.”

“Joel,” You plead, “it’s fine—it’s just a burn.”

But, he hears none of it.

He’s gone and back within seconds, laying the box out like he was performing an impromptu surgery, grabbing a small patch of gauze and tape to keep the area from being disturbed.

He makes sure the bandage is secure before he moves your shirt back down before again, pointing at the seat with a look that provides no room for argument.

Defeated, you sit.

—

“So, honey?” You ask curiously, “What's the trick with that?”

“Uh—has healin’ properties,” Joel says slowly, brow scrunched together in thought, “the uh—“

“You don’t know.” You quickly interject, a mischievous smile on your face.

“No,” Joel admits, “just somethin’ my mom used when I was young, always helped. I don’t know the science behind it.”

Joel is quiet over dinner, the lighthearted mood shifting to something you can’t really put your finger on, but you feel a need to clear the air of any doubt, knowing that Joel probably felt some sort of responsibility in your subsequent injury.

“Joel, it’s not your fault,” You laugh softly, “I’m clumsy, you touched me and I jumped, it’s fine.”

“Seems you do a lot of that ‘round me,” Joel says, dejected, “I’m sorry.”

Fuck it—Joel needed the reassurance and you were going to give it to him.

You quickly stab a fork into the meatball he’s going for, pulling his attention up abruptly.

“Let me clear this up,” You tell him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours, “I’m jumpy because you make me nervous, alright?”

Joel doesn’t respond, sensing that you had more to say, but also because he didn’t know what to say.

“And not bad nervous, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Joel looks down at the fork impaling his food and makes a quick comment, “You wanna give that up or are you tryin’ to keep it hostage?” You smirk slightly and shake the meatball off your fork.

Then, Joel surprises you.

“So…good nervous then?” And you nod, Joel still feigns confusion, “What’s that about?”

“Oh, so we’re done pouting now?” It’s a double-edge sword, but you could Joel in the depths of the flirtation you were surrounding him with and he was waxing his way in your direction carefully—you had to ease him into it. “Come on, Joel—I’m sure you’ve got enough experience to know…”

Maybe it was your inability to admit you were attracted to Joel in the off chance those feelings weren’t returned, but you want Joel to figure things out for himself.

“Huh,” Joel huffs out a breath, smiling creeping on his face, “guess all that starin’ wasn’t just cause you thought I looked funny?”

Absolutely not—never in a million fucking years.

“Good eye,” You congratulate him playfully, “but, I don’t think I’m the only guilty one, ya’ know?”

Which, fine—it was only the two of you here and things were bound to happen, eyes were meant to wander, but the energy was palpable, the newfound intrigue and ability to touch without fear.

Joel had tended to your wound like he went and stabbed you himself, trying to make amends for his own actions—really, you were just nervous.

Good nervousness that ended up with a burn across your stomach, but still—it was something.

Joel does seem slightly guilty for his actions, but there is little to be said, nothing to be excused. You didn’t mind and Joel was quickly coming to that conclusion himself.

“Own it, Joel,” You tease, “if I had a problem with it you would’ve known by now.”

Joel looks away with guilt, fork scraping against an empty plate as he sets the silverware down.

You bite your bottom lip to muffle whatever remark is bound to slip out, looking at a dejected Joel with eyes that bleed with sadness, his own mind having an internal battle with itself.

He doesn’t realize you’re cleaning up without him until a few minutes later, lost in thought with nothing but the battling forces in his head telling him—No. Don’t entertain this. Nothing good can come of it.

But, then he turns and you’re smiling at him. It’s inviting, warm, and Joel wants to stifle it with his own mouth—a thought that startles him from his stupor and gets him moving, offering to help now that he’s caught up.

And despite every bad reason his own mind is giving him for interacting with you, allowing the soft touches and passing glances, he leans into it.

Joel allows himself a moment of selfishness, all rational thinking slipping through the cracks.

There’s a brief moment of wrestling over the dishes as Joel eventually wins out, prying the pan from your wet grip and flicking soap on you in the process which, frankly, is childish even for Joel. Dipping your hand into the hot water quickly, running your open palm against his face and into his hair, matting down his loose curls with the water and earning a look you’ve yet to witness.

It wasn’t disappointment or anger, nothing that leaned toward any idea that Joel might be upset—instead, he almost expects you to do more. Like he’s challenging it. Playful. That’s what it was. Not a smile that made you feel the comfort of Joel, but an intrigue that struck your gut with the subtle smirk on his face.

“Do it again,” Joel warns, catching your hand hovering above the sink of water, pan held tight in his grip and in any other situation you would expect it to be used as a weapon, “I dare you.”

Instead, he drops it. Water splashing about carelessly as you dip both hands in this time, cupping them until you had a fair amount of water to splash at Joel, but is ultimately futile with Joel’s quick thinking, hands now completely free.

He’s got your wrists in a solid hold before you can think, water backfiring as it drenches your shirt, but even then—the look on Joel’s face? Priceless.

Your chest rises and falls furiously, struggling feebly against his hold.

There he is.

This is the Joel you’ve wanted to see. That you’ve always expected was there, but deeply hidden away.

And in any other situation, this would end in a kiss. Sealing the deal. Breaking the tension. But, it doesn’t happen.

Instead, Joel holds you there—the most contact he’s offered since you met a week and a half ago, hoping that you’ll pull away. That the intensity of his stare might scare you off.

The laugh that bubbles from your chest surprises him, soft but full of life.

“What?” You tease, “Can’t handle getting a little wet?”

“Think I should be askin’ you the same thing?”

And, for some reason, you don’t think he’s talking about the water.

Luckily, you find it in you to finally wiggle from his grip before you’re being shooed away by him, ultimately. You stow away some of the random items on the counter in the overhead cabinets, an idea brewing in your head.

“Hey,” You call out as a forewarning, catching Joel angle his head toward you slightly, “how about another movie night?”

“Darlin’, I don’t think there’s much of a selection back there,” Joel offers, insides turning to goo at the warmth in his voice, “much as I’d enjoy that.”

Fine. Scratch that.

You abandon the kitchen with a devious idea in your head, determined to find something.

“Where you goin’?” Joel calls out after you, brow furrowed in confusion as he looks after you, still appearing ridiculously haphazard from his hair mussed and shirt half damp from your attack.

“Don’t worry about it.” You reassure him, disappearing down the hall with a sweet smile that spelled nothing but trouble for Joel.

There were few choices, deciding that the owners of this place clearly didn’t enjoy anything other than foreign films and an odd amount of non-fiction books stored away in the back room of the cabin, but you eventually manage to find a pack of cards, deciding that even if futile, you could make something out of it.

Now, you have no idea how to play poker. Not even the faintest of a clue.

You could’ve established some idea of it in college, but the idea never appealed to you.

Joel is already on the couch when you return, sleeves pushed up his forearms still from where he would’ve had them submerged into water otherwise. He must’ve fixed his hair at some point, finding that while it was still mostly a mess, it wasn’t as lopsided and noticeable.

You climb over the side of the couch and plop down onto the cushion beside him, holding up the pack of cards in your grip like it was a prize, mischief behind your eyes.

“Cards?” Joel sounds a little lackluster, “You wanna play poker?”

“Uh, no—not exactly,” You explain, pulling at his hand until he splayed his palm out face up, slapping the box into it, “how about Go Fish? ‘Least that’s more my speed.”

“I can teach you ‘f you want,” Joel offers, but is quickly shot down by a shake of your head, “—Okay…”

“I’ll go pour us some drinks,” You explain, “and you can move the table around so we both have enough room to sit on each side.”

“What are you plannin’?” Joel eyes you suspiciously, noticing the grin that hasn’t faded from your face, only growing wider when he asks.

“Just trust me, okay?”

It was an absurd thing to ask of someone you barely knew, but for whatever reason, Joel agrees.

Joel follows through with your orders as you fetch a couple beers for you both to enjoy, another few stowed away to the side as he settles for the side with the couch, making himself comfortable against the cushion as you kneel, adjusting the fluffy rug against your bare knees—meanwhile, Joel’s eyes are tracking every moment, curiously suspicious.

“Alright, out with it,” Joel finally finds the courage to force the confession out of you, “what’s goin’ on in the head of yours?”

You allow him to linger in the state of unknowing for a moment before sliding his beer across the table in trade of the cards, dealing them out appropriately and placing the leftover in the middle.

“So—I never played much poker in college, all I can really understand is Go Fish, but,” Joel feels like he might explode if you don’t reach the point and he’s sure that’s what you’re aiming for, so he keeps his cool, “I figure Strip Poker is a thing, so why not try it with this?”

“I don’t think—”

Joel, again, is self-sabotaging, against his own better judgement.

“Joel, it’s fine.” You assure him, “We’re both consenting adults and it’s harmless.”

Harmless. Yeah.

Joel fears that might be a statement that goes down in history as the biggest lie he’s ever heard.

“Unless, you know, you’re scared.”

He knew it was coming and saw that teasing look on your face as you sipped gingerly at the lip of the bottle, a small chug of beer that refreshed your senses. It was working, Joel was considering it.

Joel bites his tongue, taking a long swig of his own beer before biting first.

“Give me your jacks.” He orders, spreading his cards out in his grip.

Strike one.

“Mmm,” You hesitate, eyes flicking up deviously, “go fish, Joel.”

“Bullshit.” Joel fires back, much to your surprise. It pulls a laugh from your chest.

“Hey, I’m playing fair.” You respond calmly, “Those are the rules.”

It’s a hit to Joel’s ego, losing first. He works diligent fingers around his watch, flicking the clasp open before laying it gently on the table.

“Alright,” You take a breath, scanning over your cards, “Uh..got any 7s?”

Joel eyes you for a brief moment, wondering if you were cheating. He knows it’s impossible, that it’s just dumb luck. But, still, he can’t help but be a little bitter about it.

He hands over the one card he has, your confidence growing at his dissatisfaction.

And what Joel assumed would be an easy win on his behalf, quickly takes a turn.

Jacks? Nope, go fishin’, Joel.

He removes his socks, begrudgingly.

But, of course—Joel had the spades you asked for.

Fine. Queens, then?

He can see the smirk on your face before you answer and he doesn’t even bother to hear you say the words, retching his shirt over his head and tossing it over the back of the couch.

Suddenly, you feel you’ve made a minor mistake—your triumph quickly fading as you’re forced to stare at Joel’s bare chest, making matters worse as he leans back against the couch, barefoot propped against the ledge of the table as he sips from his beer, staring angrily at his cards, dwindling with every turn.

Though, Joel had an obvious advantage here.

You were wearing fewer layers. A couple of losses and you’d be left very, very vulnerable and nearly naked in front of him.

Not that it was the worst idea, but this was all meant to be a playful tease to open up Joel to the idea of allowing himself to be more comfortable with you. To ease his mind and show him there was nothing to worry about. You take a big chug of your beer and ask for his 6s.

Joel has an immediate expression of elated victoriousness.

“Go fishin’.” Joel tells you.

Fair is fair. You pull your shirt over your head like ripping off a bandage, baring your breasts held tightly in the bra you wore and while it wasn’t the first time Joel’s seen this much skin on you, it feels different under these terms.

If Joel was bothered, he didn’t show it.

“Shit,” You laugh at that thick piece of gauze still taped to your stomach, “I forgot all about that.”

“You can probably take it off now,” Joel suggests, “if it ain’t stingin’ anymore.”

You feel there may be an ulterior motive here, squinting at him suspiciously.

You place your cards face down on the table and point a firm finger into the set.

“No peeking.” You order. “I’m serious.”

…Joel can’t help himself.

He finds himself sneaking a glance the moment your back is turned away, resigning it to memory as he busies himself with the act of drinking his beer as you turn back to check on him.

And Joel doesn’t lay in immediately, throws you off with his first guess that ends with him shedding his pants, down to nothing but his underwear—he doesn’t think you’ll take it further, but there were often times when he couldn’t read you at all.

You try to hide your expression behind your cards, the carnal longing of a stranger—all man and nothing else, the strange pulse of heat between your thighs startling you to a near cardiac arrest—and no, the pair doesn't look much different from what you caught glimpse of the other night, but the context is entirely different.

You had fucked yourself. Hard.

If there was anything you and Joel knew about each other in this short time was that you were both terribly stubborn and this wasn’t going to end well. But, you were already too deep.

You sigh slightly, biting at your bottom lip in concentration.

“Okay, got any 3s?” You ask curiously, feeling the impending denial before it comes.

Joel shakes his head, taking another sip from his beer

That smug motherfucker.

Fine. Two could play at that game.

You press your cards into the table and stand, shimming your shorts down your hips in a way that is completely unnecessary, but very warranted. Thumbs slipping into the waistband of your shorts and slowly sliding over the curve of your ass as you turn, using any surface nearby for leverage as you slip them the rest of the way off, giving Joel another full view of your ass as you lean down to pick them up, throwing them in his direction this time as they hit him square in the chest.

But, the kicker is that Joel seems unbothered now. Calmly waiting for his moment of attack.

He asks for your Kings with a smirk and you know.

“No, fuck that—” You retort, “You fucking looked, didn’t you?”

Joel looks taken aback, “‘Course not.”

He was a good liar, but not that great.

You’re halfway over the table now, palms pressed flat as you invade his space and Joel, like a magnet, leans towards you, pressing his cards into the table with a pressure that isn’t required, but is very noticeable.

A few inches forward and Joel could close the space, snatch you over the table and pull you into his lap—and you’re imagining it, the glint in your eyes as Joel searches for your doubt, seeing it vividly. You knew he was lying, but you were laying in wait.

Who jumps first?

“Joel,” You speak softly, “did you look?”

And if Joel had any sense, he’d run now.

Instead, he doubles down in the heat of the moment and that’s what snaps the cord.

Joel grins, an enticing sight that even you weren’t immune to.

“No, I—”

You knock over an empty beer bottle in the process, stepping over the table and falling into Joel’s lap, following his movements as he grabs at your thighs instinctively, leaving you straddling him on the couch, nothing to mistake the growing bulge in Joel’s groin as you find yourself fully seated against him, the idea of going from hardly any point of contact to having the most intimate part of your bodies pressed against each other, bar a flimsy piece of clothing.

“You looked.” You tell him decisively.

Joel forces out a shaky breath as you press closer, towering over him at this angle in a way that forces him to look up at you. He nods, simple, concise.

“I said no peeking.”

Joel licks his lips, a decisive move that has your eyes tracking the motion.

“Couldn’t help myself, darlin’.”

You nod slowly, like you might understand. But, Joel knows it’s all for show.

“Well, we should do somethin’ about that.” You suggest, a few ideas on the horizon.

Luckily, Joel doesn’t give you the time to list them off, a large hand rising to placate your need for touch as he cradles the back of your head, pressing his lips against yours in a delicate touch that feels like it has been years in the making.

It’s a little dramatic, but you can’t stress how good it feels to finally be touched after so long. Given you both have suffered through a dry spell that has stretched far too thin, the desperation is expected. You don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed about how much you needed Joel’s touch right now.

He satisfies your desire with a rougher push of his lips, igniting something inside of you that finally grabs your attention and allows you to reciprocate fully, guiding his free hand down to mold against the shape of your back, fingers hovering so temptingly above your ass, his fingertips press into the skin, forcing one testing glide of your clothed cunt over his cock, adding to the levity of the situation, the realization that this was actually happening.

You sigh, drinking in the overload of lust-filled touches and noises, the heedful intentions behind every one of Joel’s touches, squeezing you in places that have you squeaking out in surprise, opening up the opportunity for him to slip his tongue past your lips and explore…and explore, he does.

You’ve never been kissed so surely, expertise beyond your own that manages to pull noises from you that you weren’t sure existed, dull fingertips pressing into the back of your skull and keeping you there, stilling you until you’re pliant to him, allowing him to angle your head as he pleases, apple the pressure he’s seeking, and you feel breathless.

It doesn’t help that your hands feel empty, unsure where they should go—but you know. You press your hands against his chest, feeling the stubble of a well-kept man built from solid muscle and soft skin, all while being consumed by his own desire, soft groans mingling with the curiousness of your hands, the muscles of his abdomen clenching as you inch closer to the thick hem of his briefs and Joel very swiftly gets with the program and switches gears, the hand squeezing at the edge of your back, so dangerously close to your ass by now, slips and slides into the front of your underwear with a quickness that has you gasping out how easily your body welcomes his touch, slick sticking to his fingers as he slides them testingly through your folds.

Not a word shared, but your thoughts are running wild. Both of you fear that if you do speak, the moment will be lost. You moan softly, his cock growing harder at the idea that he’s barely touched you and you’re already wet enough that he can slip a finger inside of you with little resistance, virtually non-existent.

Foreheads touching firmly, eyes closed, you delve into the delicate dance of whatever this was, too fearful to put a label on it either, fingers running along the underside of Joel’s cock and grabbing him firmly, his own groan slipping past his lips for the first time that night, always so assured of himself and priding himself of not showing how he feels.

But, not here, not with you.

You find that he likes things fast, quick, a little on the rougher side, squeezing him until he’s practically hissing in pleasure—though, the same can’t be said for yourself, who enjoys the slow rub of his middle finger as it grazes your clit, keeping up the pressure until he can feel you shaking under his grip.

And you can feel the word slip out before you process it in your mind, knowing the mistake you’ve made after the thought.

“Joel.” It’s a simple thing, full of meaning.

Joel, more. Joel, please. Joel, thank you.

But, instead, it breaks the peace and brings you both back to the surface and has Joel pushing himself away from you rather insistently, quickly situating his underwear into their proper place, shirt falling somewhere over his lap as he heaves a heavy breath, avoiding you entirely.

Was it really that horrible of an idea? You move away, more than just a little dejected.

Really, what should you have expected?

“Joel,” It sounds different now, eerie, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Joel is more than thrown when he hears the apology fall from your lips, almost offended. He knows this is on him, playing into the game, knowing he could’ve shut things down long ago—but here he was, dragging you along like there was a possibility of something. Anything.

“I think I’ll take the couch tonight,” Joel offers after a long, drawn out silence, “alright?”

No, not alright.

“Did I—did I do something wrong?” You ask hesitantly, “Because if I did, I’m sor–”

Again, apologizing. It strikes a cord in Joel that he doesn’t like, the quick switch to anger and dissociation when things got too personal for him, with anyone. People took the blame for him when he knew he was the problem.

It was his fault. Him. Repeating it in his head like a mantra.

Your arm crosses your body hesitantly, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

“Um…okay,” You decide eventually, rising to gather your clothes that were discarded haphazardly, pulling them back on in the silence, beers and cards forgotten on the table, “just…don’t think you have to sleep on the couch or anything.”

Joel doesn’t answer, lost in his own thoughts.

And you weren’t mad, not even upset. Maybe…disappointed? You weren’t expecting anything from Joel, but given his track record, pulling away from you during a moment of vulnerability made sense.

You could give him space, let him sleep it off, then work things out in the morning.

Things would be fine—they had to be.

Neither of you get the sleep you need.

Joel knew that sleeping on the couch wouldn’t help, because his mind was still racing, despite his desire to sleep. He’s thought, over-thought, racked his brain for every possible reason to deny you aside from his own selfish problems. Like he had the gall to have morals after the things he’s done, trying to treat this as a lesson for himself.

You toss and turn most of the night, strangely missing his warmth beside you—hoping you’ll eventually succumb to your exhaustion and wake up on the other side, a new morning to think things through, apologize for your actions and try to move on.

It was stupid to think Joel could have any attraction toward you, you think. That despite the looks, the touching, that he could never see you, let alone have you, in that way.

A few hours pass, well into the darkness of night, and you eventually find yourself wandering to the kitchen—mouth dry and needing something to quench that thirst.

Though, part of you is curious. You just want to check on him, wondering if hadn’t up and disappeared in the middle of the night.

You try to be quiet, careful footsteps as you traverse the flooring until you hit the kitchen, prying open a cabinet quietly to find a glass and you hear a subtle shifting behind you.

So, he wasn’t asleep. He’s probably been up just as long as you.

“Sorry,” You find yourself apologizing again, “I was thirsty.”

Joel doesn’t respond, rather turns on his side and faces the fireplaces, the flame low and crackling in the silence. He didn’t hear you approach, only notices you when you’re rounding the couch and taking a seat on the other couch several feet away, relaxing in the warmth but also yearning to be near Joel, to make sure he was okay.

Your bare feet touch the plush rug, eyes drawn down as you take a sip of your water, welcoming the warmth into your body.

The bed had been entirely too cold without Joel.

“You can sleep in the bed, Joel.” You assure him, not chancing a glance his way in fear that he wouldn’t look back, you couldn’t handle the vehement rejection, not right now. “Things don’t have to be weird.”

Joel doesn’t answer, still trapped in his own mind.

Stop it. Stop lookin’ at her like that. She’s half your age, full life ahead of her—who are you to taint something so perfect?

Joel fears the attachment, despite there being no pretenses or obligations—and not that you would become attached, but he.

He’s a victim to his vices and he knows the second he allows himself a taste of the sweet sin that you carry—he’s done for.

You chew at your bottom lip thoughtfully, finger trailing at the glass now half-empty before you decide that this isn’t worth it—the shame or the embarrassment. Back to bed it was.

And Joel is stuck here, staring at that damn fireplace like he can will it out, growing much stronger in intensity the longer he stares.

It’s gotta be a sign—a warning, even.

That desire, that need that settled in his gut wouldn’t go away and just being in your presence he feels it grow again.

Just this once. Just for this trip.

He could leave you behind, pluck you from his mind and pretend he didn’t divulge into this fantasy when he goes home.

But here, now—he wants you.

And the fireplace cracks loudly, snapping like a twig as Joel rises to his feet suddenly, impending footsteps approaching you from behind.

You spin on your heels, ass and empty cup hitting the surface of the dining table as Joel nearly pounces on you, lifting you off your feet just enough that you land against the surface.

“What? Joel—“

“Stop sayin’ my name like that.” He forces out, face pressed against your own at every point of contact possible, noses slotting together carefully, eyelids barely touching as you blink, his mouth pressed against your lips but just barely, his right hand cradling your face as he tilts your head to the side, inhaling your scent like a drug.

“You used my shower again.” Joel deduces, hair barely damp after air-drying but he can smell his body wash, a distinct difference from your own.

The desperation in his voice would drive you insane if it weren’t for his sudden change in behavior, feeling like mental whiplash as his lips press against the junction in your shoulder where your neck begins.

“Joel, what’s going on?” You feel forced to ask, “A few hours ago you couldn’t even stand touching me.”

“I don’t understand it,” Joel admits, “why I need this so bad.”

Why he needs you.

“Keep tellin’ myself I don’t need this,” He admits gruffly, pointedly squeezing at your thighs as he pulls you in close, knees resting against his hips as he waits for you to feel him, the hard line of his cock pressed against your shorts and if it weren’t for the couple layers of clothing you might’ve given in right then, no preamble or argument, “but you don’t quit.”

And he doesn’t think he can quit you.

You pull away slowly, hand fisting into his gently until you physically force him to look at you, a softness in his eyes that was gradually being edged out by his own desires.

He looks wrecked. Pleading. Desperate.

“Take what you want, Joel.”

There’s no other way to say it, offering yourself over with no argument.

“That’s a big offer, darlin’.” Joel points out, not ignoring the way your hips seek him out further, the slow drag of your cunt against his cock, head nudging at your entrance through your shorts. “Don’t just go around sayin’ things you don’t mean when you don’t know what you’re agreeing to.”

“Look at it this way,” You rub your thumb against Joel’s temple, feeling him lean into your touch, “we’ll never see each other after this—and frankly, I fucking need this.”

Joel doesn’t expect an open confession, but it eases his own fears, knowing he needed this too. A moment away from reality, with you. Just sex, nothing more.

“No limits, no feelings,” You offer, “We meet each other halfway, alright?”

Joel could manage that. He could.

Joel sneaks a finger past your shorts and underwear until he can feel your cunt bare, just as slick and needy as earlier. You gasp, hand shooting to use his wrist as leverage.

He sure didn’t like to waste time.

“Kiss me.” You plead and Joel nods insistently, taking your breath away in one fell swoop as he licks into your mouth, feeling you come alive as you grip his hair at the root, tighter, moaning loudly into the messy exchange of lips and tongue.

Somewhere between then and now, Joel removes your shorts, fingers dancing under the waistband of your panties at your hips and dragging his cock against the fabric until they’re soaked, a feeble piece of clothing that stood no chance against your arousal and if it weren’t for the barrier and Joel’s own worries, he would’ve pushed into you like nothing and watch you fall apart in the process.

Instead, you both watch for a moment as the head of his cock catches against the fabric and nearly slips inside of you—and despite your own wants, this was far too risky. You could gawk for longer, appreciate how nice of a cock Joel had and boost his ego into the fucking stratosphere or—

“I—I have condoms,” You force out, voice only wavering slightly, “I can go grab one.”

Joel feels like it could’ve stifled the moment, the nervousness in your tone, your worrisome eyes. And his quizzical expression sends you into a fit of laughter that quickly dissipates any thoughts he’s having.

“To be clear, I always carry some with me,” You admit, “I don’t appreciate the excuse of—oh well, I don’t have one—plus, you can never be to safe, right?”

Joel grins at your nervous ramble and softly swats your thigh, sending you off—watching your giddiness transfer into the way you quickly run away, leaving Joel a moment to breathe and focus.

And as soon as he fears he’s been in his head too long, you’re back, pressing the foil package into his hand and returning to your seat on the edge of the table, fingers digging into his shirt to raise it slightly as he rips at the package with his teeth, swiftly rolling the condom down his shaft but not before you memorize every inch of what is soon to be buried inside of you, his own thumb trailing the long vein the trails the underside of it, the pink head begging to have your lips around it—which…is a thought.

A good one, but not appropriate right now.

Joel is far too fidgety to withstand an hour of you worshiping his dick in every way physically possible.

You settle for this, cock sheathed under the condom as he finally pulls at your underwear, soft cotton sticking to the dampness of your folds and Joel snickers lightly, tucking them somewhere behind you as he taps your thighs open, urging you to spread.

And normally, he would start slowly—lick his way through your pussy to figure out what makes you tick, what makes you feel like you just might ascend into another realm—but you…are also far too impatient.

“Just do it,” You assure him, beyond the point of giving a shit, “not now—later.”

Later.

Joel bites his tongue to stifle the way he groans at the idea, using his right hand to guide himself to your entrance, a tenacious drag through your slick before he’s pushing inside slowly, allowing you to adjust to the full girth of him.

It was a lot, truthfully. But, the desire to have him is nothing compare to what a few moments of stinging may feel like, the pain quickly dulling out the further he presses in, his own eyes focused on his pursuit while a free hand travels to your face, tucked under your chin like he wants you in position and waiting, thumb rubbing tenderly at the small area under your lip until he’s fully seated, your groans mingling together in relief.

His hooded eyes peek from his lowered gaze and he smiles at the sight of your sated expression, bearing your weight on your open palms spread out behind you, shirt askew and the peaks of your nipples poking through the fabric—it is a sight that Joel would never will himself to forget.

“You with me?” He asks, sounding much more held together than you, a minor amount of stress to his voice as he keeps himself still, allowing you to warm his cock with your wet heat, his free hand kneading at the side of your thigh gently, keeping you snug against him.

As if you had any reason to run.

It was too late for that now. You weren’t letting go.

You nod, a soft laugh falling from your lips as Joel takes that as an understanding, switching his mind grip under your chin to fully grasp your face, thumb on one side and the other four fingers on the other, holding you tight is his grip as he pulls almost fully out, the very tip of his head grazing the edge of slipping out before pistoning his hips forward sharply, sending the table skidding backwards loudly until it hits an adjoining wall, the start of a rhythm bang! bang! bang! as Joel feeds your starving body with the pleasure you’ve been begging for.

He doesn’t hold back and you love that.

There’s no judgment here. Just two people desperately running from their own loneliness. Fulfilling some of that by seeking out intimacy with commitment, and you can feel it with the way Joel looks at you now, unabashed and raw. Mouth hung open slightly with every growing intensity to his thrust, thighs sticky with sweat as they cling to his hips, your hand slipping out from under you but instead of allowing yourself to free-fall, you cling to him instead, using him as your anchor.

“Just had to play that—stupid fuckin’ game,” He pauses breifly in his speech, slightly out of breath, “didn’t you?”

His grip on your face tightens minutely, but you feel it.

You want more. More pressure, more power.

You want—need him to assert it.

You feel your eyes rolling back at the angle he’s hitting, the hand on your thigh angling your legs up at a nearly impossible angle, folded in the small space within Joel’s arms, and there’s an outpouring of adoration you feel toward him despite his passive touching, giving you exactly what you asked for.

“No more apologizing,” Joel reprimands, pulling your face mere centimeters from his own, bottom lip brushing against the tip of your nose, “not unless you mean it.”

“I do—IdoIdoIdo,” You mutter, whining softly when he strikes something deep inside of you, cunt squeezing down on him out of pure instinct, pulling him impossibly deeper, “fuck, it’s—it’s right there.”

And you feel like it may actually happen—coming from the actions of something other than your own hands or tiny electric toys that have become your best friends over the years and Joel can see you slipping, a softness to his voice as he draws your attention.

“Got you,” He murmurs, “—‘m right here.”

Joel answers your silent prayers as his hand drops your thigh to find your clit, middle finger working diligently to bring you teetering over the edge, “Keep on squeezin’ me like that, sweetheart. Pussy feels fuckin’ amazing—“

It isn’t the vulgarness of his words that startle you, rather how forceful your orgasm hits you with no warning, an intensity you haven’t been privy to experience like this, used to feeling empty as your cunt clenched around nothing but your fingers, instead it’s Joel—more specifically Joel’s cock that is hammering away inside of you still, mind-numbingly.

Joel is enough of a gentleman to help ease you over the high until you’re nearly delirious before he’s pulling out, condom snapping as he rips it away, grasping his dick in his hands with a rushed, “Whe—where? Where can I?”

Oh. This was different.

The asking, at least. You’ve never been asked.

You clasp your own hand over his, guiding him a little further under the burn near your navel, “Here, right here.” You pant, watching his eyes squeeze shut despite how hard he tries to keep focus as he cums in thick spurts over your cunt, careful to keep the mess contained beyond how quickly he was losing himself, reminding him so vividly of his age and how, as much as liked to fuck like he was still in his twenties, that wasn’t the case.

You sigh, an exasperated squeak as you finally fall against the table, another deafening bang that has you both giggling like idiots for a brief moment.

Joel pats your thigh gently, a displeased groan as he tucks himself back into his sleep pants and traverses through the kitchen, finding something to clean you up with.

He returns with a wet, warm towel and wipes up the mess despite your lack of acknowledgement, which has Joel chuckling under his breath, a delicate hand grasping yours as the other slides behind your back to lift you forward before discarding the rest of his mess, tossing the condom in a nearby trash can, finally pulling you back into focus when his throat clears, his hands offering up your discarded clothes.

Your nose scrunches up funnily—and Joel can’t help but find it adorable, “Think these are kinda ruined, least not without a wash first.”

Joel agrees, half-heartedly as he nods and matches your expression with a nose scrunch of his own. Your feet find a nearby chair, perching them there so they’re not dangling, practicing a little bit of distance between you and Joel, given the fact that you had no problem jumping his bones against at any given moment.

“Look—we don’t need to have a deep talk about this,” You assure him, “two weeks from now we won’t exist to each other, but…right now, I just want to enjoy…whatever this is.”

The pauses are palpable, oozing with a silent tension neither of you acknowledge.

It shouldn’t string—the idea of leaving here and going back to your normal lives. But, it does.

“Wasn’t gonna try it.” Joel agrees, quickly deflecting.

You nod in agreement, standing on unsteady feet, wobbling as you gain your footing and—Woah, that is different.

Your muscles feel like they’re not your own, coming quickly to the realization that you’ve never been so thouroughly fucked like that before, laughing at your own naivety.

Joel responded with a soft chiding grin, “What's funny?”

“I think you fucked my equilibrium out of me.”

It was…definitely something.

“Don’t boost my ego like that, darlin.” Joel warns, “You’ll come to regret it.”

Excuse you—the hell does that mean?

You’re too tired to ask, unfortunately. And Joel seems to share the exhaustion as he yawns, still holding you steady.

You had a feeling there was no need for a barrier tonight and that much is clear as Joel doesn’t hesitate to tuck you under his chin, no fussing or arguing, allowing you the full degree of a proper cuddle from him.

It feels fleeting, it is—knowing he would eventually slip from your grip, but you were bound to savor every moment while you could.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #my writing #MMITW #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories

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meatonfork · 1 year

Note

Hii!! i wanted to ask how like the 141 would react grim sneaking in a stray cat or dog <33 I also wanted to say how much i love your grim au its literally one of my favs, you stay safe and take care of yourself!!

New Pal

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pairings: platonic 141 x grim

warnings: none!

summary: grim introduces a new furry friend to the team

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the team had quickly come to realize you had a deep love for animals. this was never a secret, though.

there were times while on missions that ghost would have to get you back on track after going out of your way to pet whatever animal you’d found in an alley.

you’d been staying at a safe house with the team after a mission. you were bored, and the house was just too stuffy with all the boys cramped into a small house, so you’d decided to step outside for a bit of fresh air.

the boys started to worry after you’d been outside for a bit too long for their liking. they stepped out to find you, expecting you to be sitting on the porch. instead, they found you in the clearing off to the right of the house.

you were slowly creeping to a doe. trees towering over you, and a hand stretched out with greenery in your small palm. bright brown eyes met deep green ones. your steps were calm and calculated, wanting the deer to see you weren’t a threat to her.

she took a step forward, and you halted your movements. your body went stiff as you held your breath in fear of scaring her off.

the boys watched with gleaming eyes as the doe met you and sniffed the greenery before tentatively eating it out of your palm.

you raised a hand slowly and lightly rest it on her coat, making small strokes against her fur. the sun beams leaking through the trees made her warm.

the doe only left once she’d eaten all the food. you watched on as she made her way into the forest, small hoof prints left behind in the dewy grass.

once she left your sight, you turned around to go back inside.

the team’s eyes found yours and you gave a small smile, “hey guys! how’s it goin?”

“grim, how’d you do that?” soap all but sputtered out. his eyes were blown wide at the thought of getting that close to a deer. “was she soft?” his voice softened as he imagined running his fingertips through the coat.

you nodded enthusiastically, “oh yeah! super soft. but, i gotta go wash my hands.” and with that, you brushed passed the boys and made your way to the bathroom.

———

the team was anticipating the day you’d bring in an animal. but, as time went on, and they never saw one, they thought they’d underestimated your ability of self control. and soon, they’d stopped thinking that.

until they started to notice you’d spent more time in your room.

to your benefit, it wasn’t unusual, per se. while you enjoyed being the most annoying person on base, you also liked your space.

it got to the point, they’d almost thought you were having a small episode. and if that was the case, they knew you’d come talk to one of them at some point. when you were ready. the team never pushed you, because you’d never pushed them. and they liked that about you.

but, this was just excessive. you always cracked after four days, and this was the fifth day you went off to seclude yourself after a meal. they were over it.

your door burst open, causing you to jump out of your skin. a small squeak left your lips and you fell to the floor below you.

“ow- shit.” you hissed as your hand fell to your ass, rubbing your tailbone.

“okay, grim. just tell us what’s wrong, kid.” price spoke up. the team were looking over his shoulders, varying looks of concern and confusion on their faces.

soap was scared something had happened on base and you just weren’t telling them about it. he almost felt hurt that you felt you couldn’t talk to them.

confusion crossed your features, brows furrowing and lips pursing. “i have no idea what you’re talking about. nothing’s wrong..?”

“dude, you’ve been holed up in your room for five days. you only come out to eat and shower. you haven’t even torn my door off it’s hinges this week. what’s wrong?” gaz’s head peaked over your captain’s shoulder.

“dude, there’s nothing wrong. scouts honor.” you held up the boy scouts sign from where you sat on the floor. “i swear, if something wa-“

meow

silence. it coated the room, and thick tension filled the room. so thick, in fact, you bet ghost could cut through it with the knife strapped to his thigh. although, you figured it wouldn’t be that hard seeing as his knives were furthest from dull.

“… grim. explain. now.” ghost’s voice spoke from just outside the door.

“heh. uh, yeah! yeah- okay! guys, meet the newest team member. her name is spoon! i think she’d really be able to provide some insight on our missions, and uh, yeah…” your voice trailed off into a whisper as four pairs of eyes just blinked at you.

in your hands was a small black kitten. her fur was fluffy, making her appear as a small, round void in your small hands. she squirmed a bit, but settled in your lap.

“please say something.” your whispering voice broke the eerie silence that blanketed the room after your revelation of the small kitten.

“you can’t- you can’t keep her, grim.” price hated telling you no, but rules were rules. and he wasn’t about to break them for some cat you’d found outside.

“NO! wait- please! i need her. i hate being alone all the time, and i know i can get annoying. please let me keep her. she can be useful! i promise to take care of her and shit. like, take her on walks, and feed her, and bathe her. plus, i already named her. she marked me. we’re soulmates now. no take backs.” you all but pleaded with your captain.

he stared into your eyes. blue fighting green. your gaze never wavered, you held strong.

“if she leaves, i leave.” you huffed out. price knew he wouldn’t win this.

his shoulders deflated as he sighed. another squeal left your lips as you held spoon closer to your chest.

“thank you! oh my gosh. thank you!” you rocked the kitten back and forth as a beaming smile took over your features.

“but- the moment that cat even steps out of line a little, she’s gone.”

“deal!”

the cat left your lap, making her way to your team. they stepped out of her way, wanting to know her intentions.

she stopped right in front of ghost, peering up at him. then, she did the unthinkable.

scaling up his side, claws out before she settled upon his stiff shoulder.

everyone held their breaths in anticipation before his eyes met yours. a hard glare set in them.

then he did the unthinkable. his hand moved up to pet spoon’s little head. purring sounded through the room, before he left and stalked down the hall.

“what just happened?” soap spoke up, his head turning to watch the lieutenant and the small cat turn down the hall.

“he just stole my fucking cat.” with that, you were up and pushing your way through the boys and down the hall.

“GHOST- GIVE ME MY FUCKING CAT YOU BASTARD.”

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a/n: thank you for reading! merry christmas, and happy holidays! <3

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brights-place · 3 months

Text

Floyd dating an S/O that can't speak English

Pairings: Floyd X Reader

Warnings: Floyd being an cutie patootie, Fluff

A/N: As an Person who can't speak english properly or that well I find this request so lovely! THIS IS FOR ALL THE PEOPLE LIKE ME WHO'S ENGLISH IS NOT THEIR FIRST LANGUAGE >:))

- The first time Floyd saw you he stood still and stared in awe like a deer caught in headlights - He wanted to talk to you then and there so he did he stuttered but loved how you smiled but when he noticed your accent he melted into putty

- Floyd loves you so much its well known that he does - He helps you practice English whenever he gets the free time, only if you actively wanna improve, he doesn’t mind otherwise

- Floyd makes sure that you are respected by everyone and if someone points out your accent he smiles while you tell them your from (Your country)

- He loves how you are always smiling when people ask about yourself and your culture along with your genre of music since you were also an troll

- He loves it whenever you sing in your language either in front of the others, or even just by yourself in your room when you think no one is listening to you.( Not that he will ever tell you he dose)

-The thing is that when people of the same culture/ethnicity meet it’s an automatic click and bond so when he see's you chatting with trolls who are the same culture/ethnicity as you he can't help but be happy

- He tries to learn your language which he succeeds in and would see you blush when he calls you "My Love"

- Learns about your culture and tries to make you feel like your at home - The way your heart did a double back flip and a barrel roll when he spoke in your home langage as you got all excited and giddy squealing - He loves how you start to praise him whenever he learns a new word which ends up with you two making out after a bit when he speaks in your mother tongue

- He LOVES IT! WHEN YOUR COOKING! he will tell you directly how much he loves it and hopes you would make more which you do

- When you struggle to speak english he makes sure to hold your hand and smile up at you

- He loves your accent and how you sound so angelic to him

- He likes leave light kisses and kissed all over your face. Your forehead, cheeks, nose, anywhere accessible to him he would kiss smiling while you laugh and try to stop him but he couldn't help but giggle -I swear he just zones out on you. Like he’s just hypnotized by you and all he’s thinking "Fuck i'm so lucky..."

- When you ever get mad he can't help but blush and cover his face with his hand. You switching languages makes him squeal but he also knows when your on the phone speaking to another language he knows that it was to let others around you know that your conversation was not for them.

- When you get mad and are close to ripping someones lungs out floyd has to stop you but sometimes he stays back watching you in awe

- You cursing in your home language and insulting someone he can't help but smile at how gorgeous you looked to him but to others they have fear in their eyes

- But whenever you two fight which is never ever happening unless your in an very bad mood and notice the mess in your house when he had his brothers over

- Like when he see's you fighting with someone he can't help but be smile softly when your yelling at him he would be worried trying to understand you but soon he smiles more and moves closer towards your pissed off expression "Your Beautiful when your mad" floyd said as you blushed

- he made sure to tell his brothers not to cause an mess next time coming over.

- Loves it whenever you come to his defense and cuss whoever is bothering him or making him uncomfortable - You have cussed out john dory face to face for what he had did to floyd in the past and - It warms is heart seeing you do that. You’re actually defending. He covered his face whenever you ask him if he’s OK since he’s blushing under the covered up part of his face with his hand.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 1 year

Note

I am listening to it on audible and am still only half way through but so far have a few thoughts

1. ⁠It is actually very boring

2. ⁠You can feel the treachery, spite, vindictiveness, deceit, victimhood, maliciousness, envy, paranoia, delusion and manipulation in every sentence, Its oozes into my pores and makes me feel unclean just listening to it. I cannot think of a book I have enjoyed less.

3. ⁠The weird and constant mentions of his mum are just bizarre. I understand the tragedy of him losing her so young, but I am sure his reactions to it are not typically normal for what is now a grown man. He is batshit crazy.

4. ⁠He has long gratuitous sections about killing rabbits, deer, pheasants, and talks at length about the blood, gore and disembowelling. It literally made me feel sick.

5. ⁠He has a grandiose sense of self-importance that is utterly delusional.

6. ⁠His constant references to his drug taking are over the top. He acts like it is totally normal. I understand why this plays a part in his autobiography since he seems to have spent so much of his time taking them. But he seems to glorify it with no introspection on the dangers, and revels in spilling all the details with no cares for the people who have loyally tried to cover up for him over the years. Despite the fact he talks about leaking and planting by his family it is obvious how much they have covered for him.

7. ⁠He doesn't seem to give a damn if he destroys the monarchy, and after reading the book that is what I think he is intent on doing. He misses no opportunity to add in any malicious adjectives, unnecessary anecdote, unflattering (and unlikely) quotes about his family and throws shade and blame on to them whenever he can. He comes over as so petty and malicious. You get the sense that he feels that if he can't be king he will blow the whole thing up.

8. ⁠It is abundantly clear he has no real love for his dad, brother, or grandfather from the way he talks about them, and it is questionable that he even loved the queen. He shows no empathy or respect for them and makes them look bad whenever he can. He can talk all he likes about reconciliation but he has burnt every bridge and if he were my son or brother, he would be dead to me. There is no purpose to a reconciliation - if it is not for love then it is for his own self-serving purposes.

9. ⁠When you read the whole book rather than listening to excerpts, some stories fade into insignificance. For example the losing his virginity story is a minor mention in passing. But what you don't get from the excerpts is the whole sense of nastiness pervading every paragraph. Before reading it I really didn't like Harry, but blamed Meghan far more. Never before have a read an autobiography where someone has the chance to write the narrative of their own life in a way that is supposedly flattering, and I have found myself liking them even less, despising them in fact. He is an utterly nasty piece of work......and I am still only half way through the book.

I'm so glad you wrote it up. Thank you.

I think part of the sense of boredom is that the writing gets monotonous after a while. Also, you are immersed inside Harry's head and he really has no empathy for anyone. When I finished the first few chapters, I felt like I was reading one of those 80s anti-hero novels like American Psycho, where you are looking at things from the viewpoint of a sociopath. The way he focuses on the bedroom sheets and the hole in his shoe and even the way he spoke of women ("she was perfect, perfect, perfect") struck as very Patrick Bateman.

I agree as to the nastiness, hence the American Psycho reference above. One of the passages that most struck me was when the Diana Ghost Leopard shows up and his bodyguards are alarmed. He explains that they were alarmed because if the leopard mauled him the headlines would be horrible. It didn't seem to cross his mind that the bodyguards were scared because they did not want him hurt. He only thought of the headlines. That, to me, shows how warped his mindset is.

Ditto on the Diana segments. It feels almost sweet at first because the first chapters of the book deal with his childhood, but then it turns weird really quickly.

I'm surprised not that many people have talked about the hunting gore. It's very striking and, frankly, alien. I know hunters (at least in the US) and I've never heard of any describing the kills like this. It was truly disturbing, and I'm not anti-hunting. It's just that he seemed to enjoy the gore a little too much.

He is very arrogant, particularly for someone who was supposedly raised with an inferiority complex for being a spare.

Drugs seem to be a part of his identity, which surprised me since I'd bought into the "Hero Harry" image. I don't know if that was always the case, or if he bought into the California drug culture when he arrived there, but it's striking.

He does want to destroy the monarchy. That comes across very clearly.

He seems very detached from everyone in his family, and yet passionately attached to the image he has built of his mom (a tabloid-based image!). It's an interesting contrast. He has no empathy for Will's position at all or for his dad's struggles. His family relationships seemed to be stuck at a childhood developmental level--mom is the perfect nurturer, father is all-powerful, and brother is a rival.

It is all very nasty, and I'm surprised someone didn't step in to explain that to him.

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torturedbridgertonsdept · 19 days

Text

Chapter 1

Clandestine

Anthony Bridgerton had been out hunting on a cold October morning. He was crouched behind foliage, his gun pointed directly at a deer he had been carefully following for a few moments. His heartbeat pounded in his ears and his breath created a light fog around his head. The doe kept still for a moment too long. He fired his gun, unfortunately missing the shot. The deer ran off out of his view and he growled in frustration. Oddly, he had heard a loud neighing coming from behind him. A cream-white horse caught Anthony’s attention when he turned around.

“Oh dear, where did you come from? Shh… it’s alright, I am sorry for startling you,” Anthony had spoken softly, trying to ease the animal’s anxiety whilst he petted its nose.

“Blossom? Blossom! Come here, girl!” Anthony heard a young woman’s voice cry accompanied by loud whistling. It was not long before he had seen her coming from the same direction as the horse did. “Blossom! Oh my sweet girl, are you alright?” She cooed approaching it then patting its back gingerly.

Anthony tipped his hat to the mysterious lady who had appeared at his then-failed hunting spot.

“I’m afraid it was my fault that the poor girl was startled. My apologies, Miss…” He paused, allowing her an introduction.

“Augustine… Augustine Baxter,” She bowed.

Anthony studied her appearance. Augustine wore her brunette hair pinned up uniformly, her cheeks and lips accented by a subtle pink rouge, but her coat was discolored and tattered, with her dress and apron reflecting the same state.

“Pleasure to meet you Miss Baxter, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton,” He held his hand out for her.

His name rang in her head to be familiar. Her eyes widened once she remembered the identity of the man.

“Viscount Bridgerton!” Augustine said frantically as she bowed before him. “Oh, I am a half-wit! Forgive me for not recognizing you before. I had been journeying to your estate before my beloved Blossom had gotten away from me,”

“Journeying to my estate? Why might you be heading there?” He raised his brow.

“Did Lady Bridgerton not inform you? I am to be a lady’s maid to your sister, Miss Eloise,” She placed her hands on her hips proudly.

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten we contacted the agency for a new maid,” Anthony rubbed his temples with his thumb and middle finger as if it would repair his memory. “Forgive me, for the last few weeks have been a total nightmare to deal with. I’ve too much paperwork to tend to, on top of me searching for a wife this season, I am completely overwhelmed…” He paused to groan and wipe his face in frustration. “Anyway enough about me, yeah? I am far too complicated and boring to talk about. For now, I shall see that you arrive at the Bridgerton home safely, yes?” Anthony requested as he mounted his own horse.

“Are you sure that’s quite alright? I would hate to trouble you, my lord. You must have so many duties to attend to as the viscount,” She said gently, not wanting to look like a damsel in distress any more than she already did.

“Ah, come on. You would not be interrupting anything, seeing as my hunt this morning was unfruitful,” He chuckled in slight embarrassment.

“That is most kind of you, sir, thank you,” She reluctantly agreed. Augustine climbed back up onto Blossom, waiting for his instruction. He had gestured the direction with his head and she nodded in understanding.

Riding her horse parallel to Mr. Bridgerton, he could feel his glances but refused them, thinking it to be improper to stare back at a man with that high of a title, but the looks she did allow herself revealed traits such as his jawline and how it framed his smile elegantly. His dark hair curled upward, highlighting his chocolate-colored eyes. She had thought to herself that anyone who had seen him would agree that he was handsome, almost annoyingly so.

“I do hope you are prepared to tend to Eloise. She is quite a handful. Think of if a squirrel were to be combined with a rabid dog, and you will only know half of the chaos she is capable of creating. if you wish to no longer work for her after your meeting, I would not blame you,” Anthony said in jest and was delighted to discover Augustine softly laughing in response.

“I doubt that she will cause me to reconsider things, my lord. I assure you, I have as much patience as there are stars in the night sky,” She said in earnest, but Anthony had found it a bit humorous nonetheless.

“Well, thank goodness for that,” He said, giving her a nod. A moment of silence passed before Anthony spoke once more “I’m assuming you had fallen off your horse when I startled her correct? I can call for a physician to examine you if you are hurt,”

“I am most grateful, Mr. Bridgerton. I am quite alright. I believe the worst of it would be this nasty bruise on my hip,”

Anthony was intensely curious about Miss Augustine. She was very brief in her responses as if she were punished for having a personality as a child, but still exuded charm and kindness. He wondered what her history must be. He felt it a bit invasive to ask her questions about personal topics, but he could not help himself.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Miss Augustine, but how old are you?”

“I am but one and twenty years, my lord,”

“You’re quite young to be a lady’s maid, yes?”

“Perhaps, my lord, but it is what I must do to live,” She laughed to be polite. She had known working for people of high rank would include having to hear comments like this, but she didn’t seem to mind it coming from Anthony. She found it harmless.

“Right… My apologies,” Anthony nervously cleared his throat, embarrassed about coming off so privileged.

“It is no trouble at all, Mr. Bridgerton,”

"Have you had any experience in being a lady's maid before?" He quickly asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"I have been working as staff to noblemen since I was sixteen. I worked with my parents until they had tragically passed. My mother was a chambermaid and my father, a butler," Her voice was sweet, contrasting the rather grim recalling of her history.

"My deepest condolences. How did your parents pass?" Anthony was not known to be the most gentle in his delivery, but his interest was genuine.

"They had gotten sick while traveling from France... They passed on the boat ride from lack of medical attention," She said slowly so as to not get herself emotional in front of the viscount.

"And what happened to you after that?"

"I had continued to work at my old employers' estate until they had moved out of the country and now the plan is to work for you and the rest of the Bridgerton family until I am old and grey," Augustine attempted to lighten the mood with a bit of humor. She did not wish to depress him any further.

His interest was piqued when she mentioned her plan. That was quite some time to commit for a young woman, he thought.

"Is there no chance that you might marry one day? Are there no men that have asked for your hand?" he inquired.

Augustine found Anthony so fascinating. He was not purposefully prejudiced against commoners, he more so seemed uninformed about what life was truly like for them. She did not have the pleasures of going to balls and soirees in search of a spouse, just as Anthony was able to. She did not have time, nor money to even entertain the idea of finding a husband. She was fated to be a poor spinster, a fact that she has accepted for a long time.

“With the brood of Bridgertons I am about to share a home with, I believe I will have my hands full. I shall need not for a husband or children,” As she spun her tale into one that included positivity and light, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for her.

Augustine was known for turning any negative situation into a positive one. That continued to be proven true as the two arrived at the Bridgerton residence. She found it serendipitous to see that the sky was quickly pouring, unconcerned if it had gotten all over her.

"My lord, would you mind escorting Blossom and I to the stables? She is not a fan of the rain," She laughed, wiping away the raindrops that stung her eyes. Anthony was amused to see the way Augustine looked with her hair now curled up from being doused in rain. Most women he had met would have been furious if they had so much as a speck of dirt on their dresses.

Augustine had looked upon the Bridgerton home with wonder. She had never seen a place more beautiful. The red brick walls stood out with the wisteria that framed the threshold. It seemed so magical, yet so comforting at the same time. She could not wait to explore the estate. She knew that she would spend every spare moment she was allowed to admire the gardens and see the view of London from the upstairs balcony.

Anthony’s view at that moment was different. He had paid attention only to his footing and to Augustine. He could not ignore how the rain caused her clothes to wrap around the curves of her body tightly. The light fabric of her dress was sheer enough to reveal the entirety of her chest. He had visualized in his mind what it would look like to carefully peel the fabric from her soft skin. Thoughts like this had continued until she had noticed his stare. Once caught, he kept his eyes forward.

When they arrived at the stables, Augustine was quick to take Blossom into an open stall, lined up with the coachmen’s horses. Anthony stared as she bent over to secure Blossom’s lead to a post in the ground. Her chest had swung out in front of her, the peaks of her breasts fully in Anthony’s view. It was as if he had been entranced, ordered to take small steps closer to her. When Augustine stood up again, she was slightly startled to see Anthony standing there with little space between them. She trembled, feeling his warm breath hit her face. Soon she was pressed to the wall, the viscount’s lips hovering around hers. Her eyes were wide and she felt frozen in place. After a moment passed, the two were brought back down to reality and Anthony pulled away from her sharply.

He then cleared his throat to say "Very, well... I do have some business to attend to and you must be getting to Eloise," He tipped his hat once more and hastily ran off.

“Aye… I shall change clothes and introduce myself to her at once, Lord Bridgerton,”

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #violet bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton imagine

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g0ose-bumps · 6 months

Text

Eldritch Horror Soap (2?)

Human!Ghost meets Eldritch!Soap. Even shorter drabble ;O;

Silence. Ghost was used to silences. They lengthened, swelled—grew pregnant with all the things they hid. Ghost himself, liked to hide himself away in its familiar depths. Slit the throats of his prey in it and cover their gasping mouths so he'd have more of that billowing silence.

This time it chokes him.

There's a silence, but instead of falling into its embrace, he's suffocating. His throat convulses from the groaning weight of it.

Soap's gaze is a nauseating rush that was far too noisy to be silent. It ate at the empty spaces, hungering for more, always more. "Going my way Lt?" He asks. A toothy grin plastered on that handsome face of his.

Ghost just stares. Silent.

Soap tuts. "Now don't do that to me." He pouts, fingers ghosting up a line on the fabric of his balaclava. "Don't hide from me, Ghost."

Those wandering fingers turn harsh. A hard yank at the black knit jerks his face back. "Let me look at you." He whispers. "I really do love your sweet eyes,"

He sighs covetously.

"Your pretty neck," Soap murmurs. The balaclava rises up at the wrench and exposes his vulnerable throat. Soap's ravenous gaze trails down, following the muscled line of it. The burn caresses the hollow of Ghost's neck and tickles his throat.

Soap leans in close. His red, red mouth hovering over the place where Ghost's mouth would be, "Your darling mouth." He breathes, revealing an array of spiny teeth all lined up in neat rows in that glistening mouth.

Ghost jerks. The tendrils immobilising him, keep him from barreling back.

"Oh you saw that didn't you?" Soap laughs. "I really should've tried harder to hide from you, but I liked it too much. Being seen is such sweet relief." He yanks again, this time meanly.

Ghost wants to gasp but he can't.

The thing that calls himself Soap just shushes him. "My lovely lil' Ghost, don't try to talk." The slash of its lips widen. "You'll just hurt yourself more."

Ghost shakes, tremours rising up his bent spine. Something black writhes across his pants. It curls and leaves traces of shining secretions in its wake.

Disgust seizes the wreck of his body, animal instincts all but crying at him to flee. It screams at him to go, leave. Do something other than sit there helpless and pleading, like prey before a predator. He's more akin to a shaking deer in headlights than a man: doleful eyes affright before it gets smashed in, breaking all its bones and scattering viscera in slimy smears across pavement.

A dark laugh. "Don't cry." It purrs in his ear. "I'll treat you so well." A hand settles in the curve of his jaw, patting him absentmindedly.

"You'll see." The thing promises sweetly.

The shaking intensifies. His limbs struggle for any sort of leverage to get away from the thing that was staring back at him, gluttonous in its eagerness to eat.

A blackened hand tears greedily at his mask. It exposes his naked flesh to shiny, avaricious eyes. More pitch black hands slither into the room, more limbs than one can count.

Ghost squeezes his eyes tight. He doesn't want to see it.

"Simon." It says.

"Look at me." The thing groans.

Scrabbling fingers pry his eyes wide open.

Ghost looks.

He screams.

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alterpacks · 21 days

Note

Hello mod Dadza. I am 99.99% sure you'll know who I am despite the anon. Coughs. be so niceys fathercrow. </3

Could I get an alter pack for an alter (or alters the more the merrier actually-) to handle severe stress and homelessness? I'd prefer them to be sourced from Hermitcraft, Life Series, or Empires SMP! I need a soother or someone to just. do the thing. (The thing being leaving a severely abusive situation. Conditioning is one helll of a drug.) I know this is a bit heavy, and for that I am sorry. My brain/system is currently shut down and I need ideas, ykno? . . . Erm. Thank you in advance.

Hello dear, I’m here to help. I’m so sorry. I’ll cook up a few for you! I only know a very few characters from Empires so I will try my best

✎ Creation begin!

┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉

⤹ Name(s): Gen, Gemini, G

⤹ Pronouns: she/fawn/pink

⤹ Age: transage oty 8 y/o (chrono 22)

⤹ System Role: traumaholder

⤹ TransIDs: transage, transaesthetic, transspecies, transwoman, transtraumatized, transharmed

⤹ Personality: Gem is bubbly and happy, she loves the outdoors and animals! Her favorite animal is the deer, which she is part deer. She is shy and soft spoken, but loves loves loves playing dress up!

⤹ Aesthetic: cottagecore, lolitacore

⤹ Paras if applicable: 🐾 + aam

⤹ Interests: the outdoors, making flower crowns, architecture, cherry blossom trees

This Gem is a mix of hermitcraft 9 and Secret Life!

✎ Creation begin!

┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉

⤹ Name(s): Grian, Gri, Avian

⤹ Pronouns: He/It/Eye

⤹ Age: transimmortal, ageless

⤹ System Role: aggressor, chronic pain holder

⤹ TransIDs: transwatcher, transchronicpain, transmasc, transconsag, transweedsmoker

⤹ Personality: Grian keeps to himself most of the time, but when it comes to his family he likes to hang out with them most. He gets attached to others easily so to him it’s easiest just to sit back, smoke a little weed, and shut people out

⤹ Aesthetic: dark academia

⤹ Paras if applicable: 🗺️ + in€e$t + 🐾

⤹ Interests: birds, architecture, music, the moon

This Grian is non source specific, with memories from everything ranging from EVO -> YHS -> Hermitcraft -> the life series

(Optional) Grian is in a consag relationship with Jimmy

✎ Creation begin!

┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉

⤹ Name(s): Jimmy, Tim, Solidarity, Timmy, Jim

⤹ Pronouns: he/him

⤹ Age: 15 (transage oty chrono 27)

⤹ System Role: pessimist, shock absorber

⤹ TransIDs: transautistic, transharmed

⤹ Personality: Jimmy is loud and doesn’t really understand the concept of indoor voices, or manners. He struggles to communicate freely sometimes, and often needs Grian to help him. He is very excitable and tends to get into trouble easily

⤹ Aesthetic: chaotic acidemia, goblincore

⤹ Paras if applicable: aam + in€e$t

⤹ Interests: coal mines, shiny things, gold in general, the science of birds

Jimmy is a canary, and is related to Grian (either as a brother or a cousin, up to you) and his source is the life series.

(Optional) Jimmy is in a consag relationship with Grian.

✎ Creation begin!

┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉

⤹ Name(s): Xornoth, Xorny, Xor

⤹ Pronouns: it/its

⤹ Age: ♾️

⤹ System Role: antagonizer, anger holder, persecutor

⤹ TransIDs: transharmful, transprogrammer, transantagonizer, transcultist, transNPD

⤹ Personality: Xornoth is rude and a shut out. It hates when people try and talk to it or reason with it. It finds comfort in being alone with animals, and it enjoys being a harmful person. It believes the world should revolve around it, and no one else.

⤹ Aesthetic: demoncore

⤹ Interests: witchcraft, hell (as in the rings, the beings, etc), and it particularly likes books

Xornoth is a demon, and is siblings with Scott. Its source is empires SMP

#build your own alter #pro rq 🌈🍓#rq #rq community #rq interact #rq please interact #rq 🌈🍓#rqc🌈🍓#alter packs #make your alter #build an alter #alter packs for you #make an alter #build your own headmate #build a headmate #build a head mate #endo safe #pro endo #endogenic

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lovehelpmewrite · 2 years

Text

A Lesson in Call and Response

Title: A Lesson in Call and Response

Pairing: Steddie (Steve x Eddie ) x reader / Steve x reader x Eddie

Word count: 2.4k oh damn

Summary: You and Steve have been together forever and when you both end up doing a once over of the dark haired guitarist you consider... maybe you'll just give it a shot and see what shakes out. No spoilers at all!! Basically just PWP!!!!

Warnings: a lot of smut, unprotected sex (its not cool to get STDs so wrap y'all ween), dirty talk, breeding, rough sex, slapping/impact play, oral (male receiving), voyeurism/watching/being watched play, slight dom/sub dynamics, slight overstimulation, implied consent (sorry im shit at the build up before the touching), a teeny piece of aftercare

[A/N]: Oh... oh hi.. well I'm back and i'm still a whore so i can't say much has changed lmao but as per my bestie @o-holynight ((who has stuck w me all this gd time i love u bitch thank u sm 🥺)) who told me this was good and to keep writing and then post this.... 'ere she is! Pls lmk ur thots and i hope u enjoy :) also i do have some older stuff on my masterlist but i am maybe gonna lean back into my roots which was writing primarily smut lmao with a tiny bit of fluff

It starts out mostly soft, stumbling into Eddie's trailer lead by the hand and a smirk while Steve is just absently kissing your neck. The door shuts and Eddie turns and you're enveloped in Steve but facing Eddie who just watches as Steve sucks a dark hickey onto your throat. You exhale and your eyes flutter and close but–

"Nuh uh sweetheart." Eddie's hand is gripping your jaw to make you look him in the eyes. "Eyes open, m'kay?" He steps a little closer and takes advantage of the timing as Steve's head also tilts up to look at him heatedly over your shoulder. His hands smooth down your sides and you feel your stomach clench as he starts tugging at the button and zipper of your pants. "And what about you Harrington? What do you want out of this?"

Suddenly, Steve is like a deer in headlights until Eddie releases your chin and steps in so close you're literally sandwiched between the two of them, Steve's hands pausing as Eddie presses a heavy kiss onto Steve's lips.

Fuck. You're feeling so much it's almost too much. At the same time, it’s not enough. You can feel Steve hard against your ass and his fingers dancing along the top edge of your underwear, you can feel Eddie pressing into your front and all you want is to wrap your legs around his waist and get some fucking friction when you’re interrupted.

"Wanna watch you fuck her." Steve says suddenly, his voice deep but desperate and you almost don’t even register the 'oh fuck' coming out of your mouth until Eddie grins again. You already have your hands under his denim vest, tugging at the excess fabric of his Hellfire shirt trying to pull him closer when his eyes flick down to you and back up to Steve.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, and just from his voice you know the idea has stuck in his mind.

"Yeah, I-I wanna watch her cum on you. I want you to fuck her," Steve's words get more clear as he talks, more sure as Eddie's borderline sadistic smile grows. Now they're both reaching for articles of clothing to pull off. As if a light goes off in your heads simultaneously, you're all back to pressing as close together as you can get, pulling hair and zippers and holding onto each other for stability.

Eddie starts kissing you urgently, his hands working in tandem with Steve's to drop your jeans and then Eddie's before he's pulling you to sit on top of him on the sofa. Neither of you hesitate to start grinding your hips together, chasing the right position where you can finally feel him pressing up against your panties and he can feel just how warm and ready you are for his cock.

Steve is groaning just as loud as you are while you're kissing down Eddie's neck and chest. And Eddie is watching intently. Steve's chest heaves and he's palming himself through his jeans watching the two of you, making Eddie's stomach lurch, and then his pretty eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings while you're urgently shoving your hands under his shirt trying to kiss every exposed inch of skin.

"Eyes on me, Harrington." Eddie's voice is sharp and commanding, not wanting him to miss a second of the action.

Steve doesn't even think before his eyes snap wide open and just about whines while Eddie laughs. Then he's pulling you back to his face for one more kiss before he's turning you around in his lap to face Steve while he gets ready to take care of you.

You're squirming in his lap already and he lightly slaps your thigh, pulling another whine out of your chest. All three of you moan in unison as he pulls your damp underwear to the side to expose how soaking wet and needy for both of them you are. His eyes flick up to watch Steve as he teases two fingers around your slick, already so sensitive you're squirming and begging but Eddie continues. Whimpers of 'please' and other unintelligent sounds tumble out of your mouth while Eddie lifts either of your knees to the outside of his.

"Whaddya think?" Steve can't even think. "She ready for me, Steve?" Eddie continues with that stupid smirk and Steve is red from under the collar of his shirt to the tips of his ears but he finds himself nodding enthusiastically. Anyone could see the way you're dripping for them, for him, for Eddie.

"Shit...yeah, she's so wet," Steve bites his lip and smiles at Eddie back, "She's begging for it huh?"

Eddie chuckles darkly and lightly slaps the outside of your pussy, watching you jump against his chest before he's reaching back and pulling his cock out. You whine again, hands reaching back into his hair as he starts stroking it, sliding it against your core while your hips rock forward desperately. Eddie's busy biting and kissing your neck, watching Steve watch the both of you. Watching him fuck his girlfriend and moaning like a whore.

"Just…take it slow at first," Steve piped up, his eyes locked on where the two of you met. "She gets used to it quick but she needs it slowly first," he adds almost to himself as you feel Eddie slowly sliding home.

"Like this?"

A chorus of moans preludes the sickeningly sweet way you can feel Eddie against your front wall, not even moving just the pressure and weight of him inside– fuck. His hand slides back down your thigh, holding your knee up just right and you can see that look in Steve's eyes as Eddie bucks into you roughly and you can't help but cry out.

"Touch her clit," Steve moaned, back thumping against the opposite wall of Eddie's trailer while his fingers worked nervously on his belt buckle as the pressure in his jeans was becoming too much to ignore.

Your head drops back against Eddie's shoulder as his fingers come down in another flat slap against your already sensitive clit, hips jerking forward uncontrollably. "Eddie, oh god," you moan reflexively. Finally his fingers slowly explore your wetness while his hips begin pumping in and out of you at a steady pace.

"Mmm she's so responsive Steve, why didn't you say so?"

You can't even lift your head to witness the panicked way Steve grips the base of his cock to keep from cumming watching you... and Eddie. Fuck, the way Eddie smirks and his pupils are blown just as wide as yours while he fucked you. And you... you were heaving in deep breaths, your hips twitching and humping back as best you could onto Eddie's lap, your hands tangled in Eddie's hair and grasping at your nipples. Steve had barely touched his dick and he already had to stop himself from losing it just from the way Eddie looked at him, it was pathetic. And Eddie grinned wider.

"Come 'ere big boy."

Steve took awkward steps forward, his jeans still bunched around his knees and yet he didn't dare move his hand as Eddie kissed and suckled at your neck and jaw.

"Come on princess, don't you wanna taste your boyfriend? Don't you wanna make him feel good?"

Steve groaned aloud as his stomach clenched and his balls tightened. Your head lolled forward in the way you only did when you were completely fucked out and sex driven, your pupils engorged your irises, and without hesitation your hands reached out to pull Steve down to kiss you desperately. He moaned into your mouth, his hand finally releasing himself only to reach down to rub your clit while Eddie fucked you. You whined back into Steve's mouth and he jumped when your dainty fingers wrapped around his member. Neither of you could focus on kissing anymore, just moaning and breathing together, foreheads sweaty as you pleased each other and listened to Eddie's encouragement.

"Shit, just like that sweetheart- spit on your hand now, that's it... how's it feel, Steve?"

Steve moaned back, nearly losing his balance and dropping his free hand onto the arm of the sofa, "S-so fucking good, so good to me baby."

Eddie's free hand started gathering up your hair, wrapping around his fist, lightly tugging and maneuvering your head to test his grip and control. "Why don't you suck Stevie off princess? Give him some relief," Eddie chuckled, gently pushing your head forward and bumping into Steve's abdomen. Your eyes fluttered up for just a second to catch the needy, glassy eyed expression Steve had watching as Eddie begin to fuck him with your mouth.

"Oh god-" Steve's eyes slammed shut as his hands flew up to the sides of his head, feeling how warm and wet and soft your mouth was, your tongue sliding along the bottom of his cock, taking him all the way down until you gagged.

"Hold it together, Harrington," Eddie warned, lightly bobbing your head on Steve's cock while he continued to fuck you slowly, "Not just yet." You gagged out another moan on Steve's cock, feeling Eddie start to pull out slowly and slam his hips back into you over and over.

"Oh fuck," Steve's voice sounded wrecked, a borderline sob as he dropped his arms, trying to stop himself and follow Eddie's order. Steve's eyes opened only briefly to see Eddie's muscled forearm reach out and feel the grip of his hand around his wrist accusingly. "Are you going to cum?"

And with that single question, it was already too late for Steve by the time Eddie's arrogant smirking lips could rasp out the first syllable.

Steve's free hand tangled with Eddie's in your hair, briefly fucking your face as he came down your throat before pulling away and stumbling back against the trailer wall again. You swallowed diligently and moaned, already close as Eddie pulled your hair to sit you back against him while his hips started pistoning up into you rapidly.

"Goddammit Steve," Eddie moaned, his eyebrows drawn together. He slapped your clit again roughly, his free hand holding your hips in place so he didn't slip out. "For the record - oh fuck - this wasn't the plan."

"Shit- Eddie, oh fuck I'm gonna cum," you warn, your voice high and your eyes hooded as you glanced over at Steve still watching you. "Fuck, can I cum please please let me cum?" you beg to no one in particular. Eddie can feel you pulsing around him–can feel the mismatched way your hips were meeting his and he knows you're close.

Steve's eyes jump to Eddie's. They both knew.

Steve could swear to god in that moment, if he hadn't just spent every drop he had down your throat he'd have emptied whatever was left with the single look Eddie gives him. It's dark and menacing and makes Steve's heart pound in a nervous way he hadn't anticipated when he'd brought this up to you.

And then you're cumming, sobbing with your head pressed back into Eddie's neck and your back arching so hard and muscles clenched so tight he slips out of you as he's filling you with his cum. And Steve can't even begin to describe the broken moan that exits him as he watches Eddie cum all over your swollen cunt and thighs. You clench around nothing and Eddie gives your leg a gentle slap of approval as his still warm cum drips out of you and back onto his cock.

All three of you are panting and sweaty, eyes darting around at miscellaneous body parts just remembering how to breathe again. Steve finally looks back up at Eddie to see the scowl still on his face as he gently lifts you out of his lap and stands. Steve's back drops against the wall for the third time as Eddie takes an aggressive step towards him, moaning out a yelp when suddenly Eddie's fingers wrap around Steve's semi soft cock.

"So, what? You just decided not to listen? You don't have ears? You're stupid?" He accused, breath fanning over Steve's sweaty forehead while he tried to form a response.

He could feel the blood draining from his cock, willing it back to his groin but he only felt embarrassed as he grew more sensitive in Eddie's grip, his rings pressing into his shaft.

You watched as Eddie ignored Steve's open mouth, leaning his head into the crook of Steve's neck and sucking a dark mark into the soft skin there as Steve whimpered.

"I have such plans for you, Steve, so many ideas…" Eddie mumbled against his shoulder, lips brushing by his ear as he started to slowly tug Steve's cock, making him let out a choked sob.

He couldn't decide if it was too much yet, lightning bolts from his oversensitive nerves still had his hips chasing the stimulation but with every sense of friction tears brewed in his eyes.

"But you didn't listen, so-" and Steve is crying out as Eddie's free hand pulls his head back by his hair, turning him to show you. And Steve is wrecked–Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with every nervous swallow and moan, chest heaving with Eddie's hand wrapped around his soft cock. "He sounds almost as pretty as you, princess," Eddie remarked, biting at Steve's throat lightly. He let go for just a second to lick a strip up his palm before grasping at his cock again and just the thought had Steve jerking lightly and bringing his hands up to Eddie's shoulders.

"N-no no more, oh god," and suddenly Steve was crying.

You and Eddie both moved at the same time, you sitting up on the sofa, eyebrows scrunched in concern as Eddie helped Steve kneel and then sit on the floor.

"Hey, shit I’m sorry Steve. Hey, its okay, you're okay yeah? You’re alright, next time you can be good for me, huh? Hey, its alright," Eddie immediately began soothing, brushing back Steve's sweaty hair while you knelt and lightly kissed his shoulders and back until he started breathing evenly. Eddie took Steve’s face in his hands and made him look him in the eye, "hey, there's always next time right?" he remarked with a trademark grin, nosing at his jaw until Steve laughed and pushed him off.

"Next time."

please let me know if u want more i need an ego boost after being away so long

#steddie #steddie smut #steddie x you smut #steddie x reader smut #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #steve harrignton x you #steve harrington smut #steve x reader #eddie x reader #steve x eddie x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things smut #steve harrington is baby boy #eddie as always knowing what everyone needs best

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strawberryybunnyyy · 6 months

Text

Saving yourself.

And why I plan on saving myself until marriage and I feel like a lot more women should save themselves or become celibate.

For one: God does everything and says everything for reason and for the well being of us. God knows that sex isn’t JUST sex it’s special and spiritual, your body is a temple and belongs to God, you were brought with price you shouldn’t just let anybody in it. Its dangerous and soul ties are very real. You ever feel sad and your spirit feels empty? We are meant to enjoy sex but with people we know we can fully trust and love, someone we’re meant to be with for life so when you have “casual sex” and there’s no love in it sooner or later you will feel it.

I truly believe women get NOTHING from casual. it’s not empowering. What’s so empowering about giving yourself to a man that has done nothing to get you? A lot of women talk about how they hardly even finish during sex so how exactly is that empowering? You’re doing exactly what these terrible worldly men want you to do, give them sex without having to work for it or wait For it.

The scripture: 1 Corinthians 6 16-20

“There's more to sex than mere skin on skin Sex is as much spiritual mystery as physical fact. As written in Scripture, "The two become one. Since we want to become spiritually one with the Master, we must not pursue the kind of sex that avoids commitment and intimacy, leaving us more lonely than ever- the kind of sex that can never "become one." There is a sense in which sexual sins are different from all others. In sexual sin we violate the sacredness of our own bodies, these bodies that were made for God-given and God-modeled love, for "becoming one" with another. Or didn't you realize that your body is a sacred place, the place of the Holy Spirit? Don't you see that you can't live however you please, vesgod squandering what God paid such a high price for? The physical part of you is not some piece of property belonging to the spiritual part of you. God owns the whole works. So let people see God in and through your body.”

It seems like everyone is just looking for someone to love them and I truly just want the best for other women and I am telling y’all right now these men (except my brothers in Christ ofc, MEN OF GOD not Christian boys:) want NOTHING to do with us, in the sense of getting to know us, what we want in life, who we want to become, they want sex and to talk you when they’re bored and when they’re bored of You and your body they’re than ghosting you. I’m not saying this to be harsh or to be hateful I’m saying this because it’s the truth.

We as women need to leave men alone and get ourselves right with God and wait for our father to give us a man of God that actually wants us FOR US. NOT OUR BODY. Someone who’s not going to get bored with us in a month or so. It’s better to be patient and wait for God to send someone that he knows wants us for us.

The scripture: Song of Songs 3:5 Promise me, O women of Jerusalem by the gazelles and wild deer, not to awaken love until the time is right.”

Ladies please always be careful and keep yourselves safe. That’s all! :)

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