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familyvideostevie · 2 months

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time you will not spend alone

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni romance at the end of the world is this: flowers, lazy nights in bed after long days, and savoring every moment | or, joel makes you something. jackson!joel au, fem!reader, fluff, maybe a bit cheesy but idgaf, ellie cameo cause i can't do a damn thing without her, tommy gets some page time here too, smut (riding, unprotected p in v sex, some finger sucking lol), tenderness, gift giving | 5.7k a/n: i think this is the last part of the just and just as series for the foreseeable future. thank you for reading about this little au and these two lovebirds! i adore them. thank you @frannyzooey and @macfrog for your eyes and support on this. and thank you everyone else for being patient. <3

Spring sweeps into the valley seemingly overnight. The peaks remain snow-capped but the bare branches of trees between the evergreens begin to bud. Chilly mornings lose their bite and frost turns to dew and every day there is more light.

You've always thought Jackson looks its best in winter, but it's a damn sight to see as life and color return. And the latter is your favorite part -- the rolling hills outside the walls and the forest patrol paths are dotted and then overflowing with flowers.

It makes you feel more alive. Patrol isn't a freezing ordeal anymore -- it's an opportunity to see the remaining beauty in the world.

Today's shift is short and easy but you find yourself lingering, running your hands through pine needles and turning your face to the sun. Your horse is happy to munch on a patch of grass in a clearing just off the main trail, but your patrol partner is less than impressed.

"Are you serious?" Ellie moans. "You're stopping again? What the fuuuuuuuuck."

She sags in the saddle. The pout on her lips makes her look like a kid sent to bed without supper rather than an almost-twenty-year-old forced to spend some extra minutes in the fresh air. Shimmer has no problem chewing on some weeds despite her rider's moaning.

"Let me enjoy the sun," you say. "When you get older you'll appreciate the little things, too."

You hop off your horse and Ellie sighs loudly.

"Jesus, you're not that old," she mutters. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

You sweep your arms around you, gesturing at the meadow. "These flowers are nice," you tell her, pointedly. She adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to pick some and bring them home."

She snorts. "Oh, is Joel suddenly into flowers?"

You ignore her bait and crouch, gaze sweeping over the array of colors in front of you. You tried to learn the names of flowers years ago when you found a book on them in an old bookstore but they never stuck. Purples, pinks, and yellows, large petals and small ones, delicate yet hardy to survive the world past its end.

Joel isn't a fussy man. Young fathers don't get to be, and anyone alive these days sheds that impulse just as quickly. He's happy to wake up every day with you by his side, his kid in the garage out back and walls around everything he loves, keeping it all safe.

It makes it both easy and hard to please him -- you want to give him everything but he seems to want nothing. A perfect paradox, a puzzle to solve.

God, you love him. You love spring, you love Joel. Everything feels good.

So, you start to gather stems, snapping them at their bases, humming as you work.

"How do you choose which ones to pick?"

"Fuck," you gasp, careening forward onto one palm and looking over your shoulder. Ellie is off her horse and much closer than before, standing directly behind you. "Jesus, you're stealthy."

She shrugs, her smirk a pleased slash across her face. "You're oblivious as fuck."

You roll your eyes at her.

"Seriously," Ellie says, crossing her arms. She jerks her chin at the small bouquet you've got in one hand. "How do you make it look so nice?"

"Oh, so we've moved on from the making-fun-of-me part of this?"

She crouches next to you, elbows on her knees.

"I, uh -- " Her cheeks go pink, freckles standing out against her blush. "Dina likes flowers."

You bump her shoulder with yours. "I'm going to be so nice and not tease you."

"Fuck off," she scoffs, tucking her smile into her shoulder.

It's quick work. Ellie follows your lead, balances out the blooms she picks with some leafy weeds. She ties them together with one of the minimum four spare hairbands she has on her person at all times -- bits of cloth, occasionally a rare unused elastic from before if she's found some on patrol.

"Isn't it kinda shitty?" she muses, nimble fingers turning her bouquet this way and that to admire it. "We're killing them. The flowers, I mean."

"Little late to have a conscience about killing," you say lightly. The two rabbits she pulled from Jackson snares hang from her saddle. You've seen her in action, too -- gun raised, hands steady, blood splattered across her cheek. It's not an accusation, far from it. Violence is a language you both speak, one she's known for most of her still-short life.

She rolls her eyes, every bit a teenager. "Whatever."

You sigh. "You're right, though," you say. "There were whole shops dedicated to this before. Selling flowers, making bouquets and centerpieces and all that shit."

She probably knows this, but she lets you describe it. Ellie soaks up bits of the old world like it will materialize before her if she listens hard enough. Joel says it was much worse when she was younger, right after they settled into Jackson. She wanted details about everything and watched every movie she could get her hands on. You think she was satisfying her curiosity, sure, but also that she was trying to understand him better -- but didn't know how to say so.

"Weird," she mutters. "And you just...bought them for other people?"

"Or yourself." You pat her shoulder and stand. Your horse tries to nibble on your flowers before you haul yourself back in the saddle. "It was just a nice thing to do, I guess."

"Killing something to make someone else happy," Ellie says with a dry laugh. She tucks her bouquet in the crook of her arm once she's back in the saddle. "I guess everyone does that these days."

It's absurd when she puts it that way, but it's true. You've all got blood on your hands. You would kill for this girl, for Joel, for pretty much anyone in Jackson. And you have.

The flowers are for Joel, they're for your house, they're for you. Something beautiful to bring home alongside your dirt stains and scarred hands, your haunted eyes and nightmares. No one is spared those.

It's only mid-morning by the time you get back to the wall. You and Ellie left at dawn, short sticks drawn for the early shift. She leaves you in the stables with a mock salute and a shout of thanks, practically jogging to Dina's to give her the flowers.

You're untacking your horse when you hear familiar laughter, a deep chuckle and Ellie's faint indignant protest.

"Mornin'," Joel says from behind you. "Was hopin' to catch you at the gate."

"Can you hold these?"

You blindly extend the hand with the flowers. His fingers carefully extract the bouquet and you return to brushing out your horse.

"Does this have somethin' to do with Ellie runnin' out of her with flowers of her own?"

"Never let anyone say you're unobservant, Joel Miller."

He snickers. You leave your horse with a final pat on the neck and thanks for a job well done.

When you face Joel, he looks tired -- he's been pulling extra long days replacing windows and roof tiles after the winter's damage. God knows that man never seems fully rested, but it's a little worse when the seasons change.

He's told you time and time again that standing two stories off the ground is a hell of a lot safer than fighting some Infected on patrol, but you still worry. Just like you know he worries about you beyond the walls, how he's a little tenser whenever you're not in sight, whenever he hasn't seen Ellie for a few days ‘cause they're both busy. It's just how he loves. It's how you both love.

You make no move to take the flowers from him, instead brushing some sawdust from his shoulder.

"Did you have a job already?" you ask.

"Small one. Fixin' a crooked over mailbox." He looks pointedly at his full fist. "You gonna explain now?"

"They're for you."

Joel blinks once, twice, brows furrowing like you're speaking a different language. Maybe a few years ago you'd start to feel self-conscious, unsure of your romantic gesture and insecure in his reaction. But now, as fully in love and connected to this man as you are, you lean in.

"If you're too manly to carry flowers through town --"

You make to take them from him but he snaps out of his daze and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest in a smooth motion.

He also holds the bouquet in the air and out of reach.

"Hey, now," he says. "Hands off. These ain't your flowers."

"I picked 'em," you remind him, poking him in the ribs for good measure.

He flinches just a little but doesn't move. His embrace is warm and familiar and you sink into it. "Gettin' romantic," he mutters and brings the flowers back down to eye level to examine them.

"I'm just trying to catch up to you," you say into his jacket. He huffs and his palm rubs a slow line up and down your arm.

You wiggle out of his embrace to shoulder your pack.

"I am pretty romantic," he muses.

It's true. Even if he's joking and even if no one but you gets to see it, Joel has always made sure you feel loved. Courtship and romance look different these days, but it still comes naturally to him -- loving. Dinner dates, jewelry, and trips to the airport have become a battered paperback, a sharpened knife, and bloody knuckles, but it rings just as true. He loves you and he loves his family the best way he knows how – by keeping you all safe.

And you do your best to convey the same thing. You tell him, of course, but you also mend his shirts and chop wood when his back is acting up, and you look after his kid like she's your own.

Joel deserves to know that he can receive all that he gives, too – the protection, the tenderness, the beauty. Moments of softness and rest where he knows he’s taken care of, thought of, that he matters beyond the things he can do for everyone else.

So, you also do things like bring him flowers.

Sometimes you feel like it will never be enough. You will never have enough time to show him how much he means to you, how he's saved you, how important and cherished and loved he is. How good he is.

Joel reaches for your face with his free hand. He traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb and smirks when you inhale sharply. Another patrol returns and the stables are suddenly louder and more crowded than before. If you're both free for the rest of the day, you want to drag him up to your bedroom and spend the hours there. You want to show him, for the millionth time, how much you love him.

"Okay, Mr. Pretty Romantic," you say, grabbing his hand and tangling your fingers together. "Let's go home."

___

Joel is hiding something from you.

The flowers last for a week and you watch him eye them and smile every time he enters the kitchen.

But after they droop and go in the compost pile, something shifts. Something subtle, sure, but you spend most of your waking hours looking for or at Joel, so you notice.

He starts keeping his workshop door closed. Normally you'll sit and watch him work, or he'll teach you a few chords here and there on the guitars he's making, but your lessons move to the porch and the upstairs hallway loses the scent of wood glue and stain.

In fact, he actively steers you away from the room altogether. He's all just needs a deep clean and it's messy, is all. It's not rocket science -- he's making something for you, clearly. But giving him a hard time is too fun to pass up.

One night, you and Ellie wait at the bottom of the stairs. There's a dinner and movie night in the old church and you're taking the opportunity to make it a family outing.

"You coming?" you holler up the stairs. You hear the door creak open.

"Gimme a second," he calls back down.

"Jesus," you mutter. You tap the side of Ellie’s sneaker with your boot. "You know anything about that?"

Honesty is important between all of you, but you know Joel and Ellie need to have their secrets. There is too much tangled history between them for you to understand it all. It's important to you that they have a relationship all their own, even if it means they scheme.

Ellie is examining her switchblade with intense focus. "I might," she says with a smirk. "He's a lovesick loser, I'll tell you that."

You lean on the banister and raise your eyebrows. "Do you remember when you asked me how to embroider so you could put Dina's name on her jacket?"

The knife swings closed with a snick and she rolls her eyes at you, cheeks pink.

"Shit, dude," she says. "Why do I tell you anything?"

"She liked the flowers, though, didn't she?"

Ellie crosses her arms and smiles at whatever memory she's seeing in her mind. "Yeah," she says. "She did. Jesse gave me so much shit, though --"

The door upstairs closes and Joel's heavy footfalls cut her off.

"Finally," you grumble. He trods down the stairs, arms half in his jacket when he catches sight of the two of you. "Are you hiding state secrets in there?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie asks.

"Might be," is all he says. He's got that twinkle in his eye that means mischief but he looks proud of himself. You can let him have this, whatever this is. You trust him and you'll find out eventually.

"Alright," you say, pushing off the banister and heading for the door. "You're going to breathe toxic fumes with the door closed."

"No, seriously," Ellie says. "What kind of secrets would a state be keeping?"

"Ain't nothin' toxic in there," he says lightly. He bumps Ellie's shoulder with his. "C'mon."

She throws her hands up in the air. "You know, it's shitty when you ignore me."

"Did you hear somethin'?" Joel says to you.

You shake your head, swallowing your laughter. "No," you say. "Nothing."

"Assholes." She pushes past you and down the steps onto the street. "I'm going to make sure there are no mashed potatoes left when you get there."

You don't mind letting Joel do whatever he's up to in all of his spare moments. It does mean you have more time to yourself, so you pick up some extra wall shifts.

And when one of those shifts is with Tommy? Well, you can't help but needle him a little bit about it all.

"Do you know what your brother is up to?" you ask him.

The wind today carries some lingering winter bite, so you've got the collar of your coat pulled up around your ears. Tommy’s hair whips around his face when he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Gonna have to be more specific," he says. "My brother is always up to some shit."

"I think he'd say the same thing about you."

Tommy laughs. He's got the reputation for being the more easy-going of the Millers, but you know he's more a match for Joel than most think. Out in the world, they work as one, silent and deadly, always in step when it counts. They still speak a language all their own with just a look and you see so much of them in each other when you pay attention.

"Well, I learned it all from him," he says. He adjusts his grip on the rifle and sighs. "I happen to know what you're talkin' 'bout, though."

"Is he just telling everyone but me?"

"Nah," Tommy scoffs. "Asked me and Ellie for help, s'all. And you know he tells that girl everythin'."

You both smile for a moment at your fondness for them.

Tommy clears his throat. "Does it bother you? Him keepin' a secret?"

You know Tommy won't let your answer get back to Joel. He's asking as your friend, as your kind-of brother. He's asking because he cares.

A patrol crests the hill, green flag waving in the air. They whistle and shout for the gate to be opened.

You step closer to Tommy so he can hear you. "No," you say. "I just like to gossip."

"Don't I know it," he chuckles. "You two are the eyes and ears of this damn town. Knowin' everything."

"Except what happens in my own home," you tease.

He shrugs. "You'll like it, if that helps," he adds.

"I know I will."

You look out at the world beyond the wall and smile to yourself.

Joel has made you a few things over the years. He works wonders with his hands all the time: Beautiful, intricate carvings for the house, for Ellie, for new babies in town. The wall of guitars, not to mention the ones he's made for kids to learn on in school. You're better at sewing than he is, but he's pretty damn good – fixing up pillowcases and blankets and clothes of all kinds. Joel is a craftsman.

Hands that hold you can also pull a trigger, punch until there's nothing left, and craft a work of art.

And he knows you. He pays attention -- there is a reason behind everything he does. If he's making you something, you know you'll love it.

"Strange, ain’t it?" Tommy says. You turn to him, a question on your face. "World ended and here we all are, happy. Makin' shit for each other. Gosspin'."

You sigh. “Took a lot to get here.”

“Damn right,” he says with a long whistle. “Lotta shit behind us.”

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask.

Tommy considers your words. You two talk plenty, but you’ve never really spoken about the past. Joel tells you whatever you want to hear about the years before you knew him, so you’ve got a pretty good picture of their lives after the outbreak.

"Can I tell you somethin’?” Tommy asks. You nod. "Alright. I – I never thought I'd see my brother this happy again. And I wish every damn day that Sarah was here to see it. To know him this way, to meet Maria. To know you and Ellie."

Joel has said the same thing before and it’s an honor greater than you can ever explain.

"When I saw him and that girl a few years ago, I thought --" Tommy clears his throat. "I thought maybe he’d made it through all the shit we did. And I was right. She brought him through it. And now he’s here, doin’ stable life shit we dreamed about before."

"Ellie is a force," you say, a little surprised to find your voice watery. The love between Ellie and Joel is fierce and powerful, evident to anyone who witnesses it. They would do anything for each other, even though they're mending.

"She is," he says. "And so are you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this. Point is – seein' him love you, too, shows me he’s through it. He's alive again, you know? And I’d do all the shit we did over again just to get us all here. So, no. I don’t regret it."

It’s nothing you haven’t thought before, but the words work their way into your heart and sit there, heavy and warm.

“Damn,” you say. You swallow and give him a wide smile. "If you keep going, Tommy Miller, I will start crying and that would embarrass us both."

He laughs and blinks a few times. You join in, wiping your eyes.

"Alright, I won't," he says. "Jesus, all you did was ask what he's doin' in that workshop."

You clap him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you started blubbering on duty."

He snorts. "Ain't that generous of you.”

Days pass. A week. You almost forget about Joel's project because he spends less and less time in the workshop and more on tasks around town as the days get longer. You're both busy -- chopping wood, planting bulbs for the fall, helping de-shed the horses. There's always work to be done.

After a particularly long day on your feet, you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find he's gotten home while you were in the shower.

"Hey, stranger," you say. You're mostly dry but some water drips down your back and you shiver. Joel is leaning against the headboard on top of the sheets without his shirt, reading whatever book he's onto now.

"Didn't hear me come in?" he asks. He sets his volume aside and pulls off his glasses.

"I was too busy coming back to life under some hot water." He probably heard you singing off-key to some long-lost song stuck in your head for the millionth time. "And you're quiet as hell, Joel."

He shrugs.

You just look at each other, the intimate gaze of two people who know every inch of each other and never tire of it.

The sleep pants he wears to bed this time of year are lightweight, thin enough that you can see the outline of him from here. His stomach is soft where he's bent at the waist and the trail of hair above his waistband is dark, darker than the rest of what's on his chest.

The golden expanse of his skin just begs to be touched, so you make your way over to him in your towel. He makes room for you to perch on the edge of the bed, the bare skin of your thigh pressing into his pants. His palm rests on your knee.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," you say softly. "’Cause of that damn thing you're working on."

His fingers press into your skin.

"Ain't patience a virtue, or something like that?"

"Whatever magic you're working better be worth waiting for," you tease.

Joel's hand resumes its path up your leg and he smirks.

"I can work some magic right now," he says.

You laugh, throwing your head back as his fingertips edge under the towel.

"That was awful," you say. "I should get dressed in all of my layers right now and go sleep on the couch."

You pull away from his touch so you can straddle him, your towel only held on by one hand at your breasts.

Joel snickers. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."

Nimble fingers find your cunt between your spread legs and you gasp a laugh, one hand on his shoulder to balance you in his lap.

"Smooth," you manage. His other hand tugs on the towel and you release it, your slightly damp skin breaking out into goosebumps in the air of the bedroom.

Joel drags his lips between your breasts and you feel his smile.

"Christ," he says. "You comin' outta there in just a towel and you expect me to go to sleep?"

He pulls his fingers from you and frames your face with both hands to drag it down to his in a lazy, thorough kiss, like he's savoring each moment.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you let him in readily, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grind down on the hardness you can feel through his pants.

"I've missed you," you say, dragging your tongue along down his jaw. His fingertips press into your bare hips hard enough to bruise, but it's a grounding touch rather than an urgent one. You want to take your time because you have missed him, and you think he feels the same way.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Joel groans, dragging your lips back to his. "It'll be worth it."

You pull back to look him in the eyes. The hazel-grey is almost totally taken over by his pupil, but his gaze softens when you cup his cheek and smile.

"I know," you say, and mean it. Naked in his lap in your bedroom, you mean it. You always mean it. You always trust him.

Joel kisses you once, twice, and you pull on his lower lip with your teeth when he pulls away. His nostrils flare and before you can tug his cock from his pants, he holds two fingers out to you.

You laugh, circling his wrist and bringing the digits past your lips. You swirl your tongue around them and really take your time with it, laving at his knuckles before releasing them with a pop.

His cock twitches beneath you and he huffs.

"You're an easy man to please, Joel Miller," you tell him, tugging down his pants and letting his shaft spring free. You stroke him root to tip and he hisses.

"Nah," he manages. "It's ‘cause it's you."

He follows his words with a circle of your clit from his spit-slick fingers.

"See?" you gasp. "Romantic."

It's a bit crowded, his hand rubbing your clit and yours slowly jerking him, but neither of you rush it. You pant together, dotting lazy kisses on any piece of bare skin you can reach. You breathe him in, the combination of sweat and gun oil and fresh detergent that's just Joel. A rush of tenderness hits you so suddenly your nose stings.

"Joel," you say, a bit ragged. "Joel, can you --"

A gentle hand on your face brings your foreheads together, his eyes on yours.

"Whatever you want," he groans. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

You can't help it -- you laugh. Brightly and happily, almost in disbelief that this man is yours. Real and solid under you right now, beside you every night. Yours to love and cherish and all the rest.

"You laughin' at me?" he grumbles, though you can tell he's fighting a smile.

"I just love you, is all," you say. You probably don't say it enough. You and Joel show each other every day, so much so that you can't imagine he doesn't know. As it is, you feel loved by him with every move he makes, every time he looks in your direction, every time he says your name.

"And I want you to fuck me," you add.

It's Joel's turn to laugh.

"Now who's the romantic one?" he says.

You rise from his lap and settle onto your back on the other side of the bed, stretching with your hands above your head.

His eyes follow the line of your bare body, fondness and hunger recognizable in his gaze.

"Always so damn pretty," he grumbles. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Flirt," you tease.

He rises to his knees and pumps his cock a few times with his fist. You spread your legs for him, knees bent up against your chest.

He settles between your knees and you lock them around his hips. Joel honest-to-god winks at you before dragging two fingers through your folds to make sure you're slick enough.

"Ready?"

You nod. He enters you in one practiced move and you groan in unison as you adjust. It takes some shuffling but he finds a position he can hold, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Joel fucks you slow and deep. Each drag of his cock against your walls curls your toes and drags whines from both of your throats. He keeps up his usual babel -- doin' so good, feel like a dream, so damn tight, cunt's a fuckin' miracle -- and you press your hands into his bare back like he's a life raft.

Sweat beats on your brow, your chest, everywhere, and you suck bruises into his neck as his thrusts get a little frantic. Your own orgasm sneaks up on you, the pressure building and building and building until it snaps without warning.

"Joel -- Joel, fuck, I --"

You clench around him and he chants your name, that's it, baby, come on my cock, and buries himself to the hilt to finish inside you.

He hovers above you on trembling arms long enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips before rolling off of you.

"Now I'm ready for bed," you say, panting.

You fling a hand out lazily and it lands on his chest. He intertwines your fingers and his gaze finds yours. You smile as you get your breathing under control.

Joel smooths your brow with a thumb. "Don't forget to --"

"I know, I know," you say. "C'mon, you know this isn't my first rodeo." You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom.

"You sayin' I'm a bull?" Joel calls after you.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" you holler back, cleaning yourself up. "Didn't people used to say that?"

Joel doesn't answer you but you laugh at your own joke. You make your way back to the bed in old pyjamas and find him back in his sweatpants, feet flat on the floor like he's about to get up and go somewhere.

"Joel?"

He sighs, his shoulders moving up and down like he's bracing himself.

"It's done," he says. "Your surprise."

The confession stops you in your tracks.

"Oh?"

You know Joel better than mosty, but sometimes he's still a puzzle. The hesitation, the slight air of anxiety about him as he says it confuses you. Because Joel is good at taking care of people, and he has to know it -- those years he and Ellie didn't speak you know he left her things, know that he took care of her from afar as much as she would let him. It's just what he does, he uses his hands to beat and shoot and bloody – but also to carve and hold and love.

They're the same thing, really.

And he's made you something – one of countless gifts he's given you, tangible and not, throughout your relationship.

But he's nervous. As if you wouldn't love anything he made, anything he does. As if you're not gone over every part of him.

"Hm," he says. "Yeah. Let me --"

Joel gets up from the bed and pads over to the dresser to rummage around in a drawer. You meet him back on the bed and he's holding a square-ish parcel wrapped in cloth.

You gingerly take it from him.

"This is what you've been working on?" you ask softly. He nods.

You unwrap the cloth and find yourself holding leather-bound journal. The hide is smooth under your fingertips, scraped clean by hand and tanned a dark chestnut.The spine is about an inch wide, the whole thing swen together with neat stitches of what can only be catgut. A thinner strip of leather is wrapped around the cover and tucked into itself carefully. It must have taken him ages to make.

"Joel," you gasp. "It's...god, it's beautiful."

He tells you how he found it on patrol a few weeks ago. The cover was fucked but the paper was somehow fine, so he dried out the pages and rebound it with a hide he tanned himself. You run your hands over it again almost like you can feel his fingerprints all over it, the hours he poured into the pages.

The inside cover falls open easily when you undo the tie and you see letters in the bottom left corner of it. Your eyes sting.

Joel has carefully burned your name into the leather, each letter perfectly lined up with the next. You haven't had something with your name on it in years.

He clears his throat. "Ellie said she'd give you some of her pens. Show you how to refill 'em."

You look up from your gift and find so much love on his face you can hardly stand it. He was inside you not that long ago and somehow this is more intimate. You surge forward into his space and wrap an arm around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

"I don't know what to say," you confess. "Just -- thank you."

He runs his hand along your spine.

"S'nothin'," he says. "Just saw it and thought of you, is all."

You release him and shake your head in disbelief. This man.

"What should I write in it?"

Joel's cheeks darken a little. Of course he's thought of everything.

"Figured you could write about...all this." He waves a hand in the air like that explains anything.

"All what?"

He shrugs one bare shoulder.

"Life," he says. "Jackson. Folks here. Might be nice, havin' the memories."

You scoot closer to him so you're almost in his lap again.

"You want me to write down the gossip?" You mean it as a joke but Joel nods.

"You pay attention," he explains. "Someone's gotta."

You're not much of a writer anymore, haven't had cause to be in twenty years. But you do like to tell stories. You both do.

The pages are soft under your fingertips as you flip through them again. You're going to fill them with stories -- about this town, about Joel and Ellie and Tommy and the people you love. The people you've lost, too. The memories that hurt like bruises, like fresh wounds. But the good stuff, too. The gossip, the love stories, the plants in the yard and the flowers on the trails.

Joel has given you the ability to record your lives.

You reach over him to set the journal on the nightstand before you frame his face with both of your hands.

"I'm going to write pages and pages about you, Joel Miller," you whisper.

He huffs, cheeks warm under your palms. "That's borin'."

You shake your head and lean in until your lips brush and your eyes flutter shut.

"That's the story," you say. "That's my life. This is my life. You are."

“I love you,” he breathes. “So damn much. Y’know that?”

How could you not? You say so and kiss him firmly but without hurry. You’ve got lots of time. You’ve got forever.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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moonstruckme · 10 days

Note

i hope you aren’t too uncomfortable with smut you always write so well though!

how about remus x reader and he’s making her read out loud while he pleasures her 🫣

Hi, I'm not! Thank you for requesting. I did this with med student Remus, hope that's okay <3

cw: smut mdni, afab!reader, d/s dynamics

med student!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 586 words

You’re having some trouble holding Remus’ thick textbook above your head, what with the trembling that’s taken your entire body. You can hardly hear yourself as you read, the words blurring together meaninglessly as Remus keeps your lower half pinned to the bed with hands wrapped around either thigh.

“Wait,” he says, looking up so scruff on his chin scratches against your folds. You shiver. “Go back to that last part.”

“Which part?”

Remus gives you an indulgent look. “The part about the hood, dove. You were mumbling.” He squeezes the flesh of your thigh warningly.

You swallow nothing. “The clitoral hood is the fold of skin that surrounds the—the bead of the clitoris.” You stutter as your boyfriend’s head dips between your legs again, finding said hood with his mouth. Your words start to run together as he pushes the skin upwards, licking teasingly at the sensitive nub beneath. “It protects the clitoris from friction, and—and retracts slightly during arousal.”

Remus’ self-satisfied hum sends reverberations of pleasure through you, and you gasp, nearly dropping the book. He takes your clit into his mouth, suckling for a few moments before he releases it with a lewd popping sound.

“We can’t do this if you’re going to keep stopping,” he reminds you, clearly amused by your agitated state. While his mouth is busy, his hands rove your thighs, creeping closer to the growing heat at your entrance. “The deal was that we could play if you helped me study. It’s no help if you’re not reading.”

“Sorry,” you say, voice strangled.

Remus gives your thigh a condescending little pat. “Keep going. Loud and clear, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t wait for your agreement before he gets back to his own task. His tongue flattens, licking a broad stripe over your folds.

Your voice trembles as you start again. “The glans clitoris is located at the top of the vulva, where—where the inner lips meet.” You falter as he goes back to that small bud, resuming his suckling. Heat coils tighter in your core. “Only the tip of the clitoris is visible, but it has two internal shafts which extend into the body as much as five—fuck—”

Your head throws back when Remus darts his tongue into your hole without warning, passing along that sensitive inner wall. Any more of this, and you think you’ll shatter into a million pieces.

He delivers a firm swat to the underside of your thigh, making you jolt.

“Five inches,” you finish weakly. “The clitoris contains thousands of nerve endings that are—are very sensitive, especially dur—ah—during sexual stimulation.”

You feel Remus’ quiet chuckle rumbling through every inch of you, while you make tiny indentations in the cover of his book with your fingernails. He’s awful.

“The cervix is a cylinder-shaped area of tissue that separates the vagina from the rest of the uterus. It is located at the top of the vagina.”

You get little warning, only the tightening of your boyfriend’s hands, before he’s lifting your hips off the bed and flipping you over. You manage to use your death-grip on the book to keep your page, landing on your knees and elbows.

Remus adjusts your knees a little wider, soothing his hands up your thighs to your hips. “Comfy, dove?”

You drop your forehead to the book, breaths jagged. “Comfier than before.”

“Good.” You can hear his smile in his voice, laced with smugness, as he lines up to your entrance. “I think we both have something to learn about this one.”

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ilyhaitanii · 1 month

Text

baby it’s your birthday! ft. jing yuan, nanami, zayne & caleb

nsfw. it was my birthday a few days ago so i wrote this little drabble. also as a thank you for 400 <3

JING YUAN:

jing yuan is somewhat lazy when he puts his lips to your cunt. not to say he’s disinterested— far from that. the general simply prefers to take his time with you. he kisses every curve and crevice of your torso, hands smoothing over the expanse of your waist. his hands rub up and down the sides of your hips, squeezing the soft skin every now and then. his lips wrap around your nipples, twirling one bud at a time because he knows it makes the other so impatient.

jing yuan’s lids flutter shut, enjoying the feeling over your skin. he feels your try to climb onto his lap, but he keeps his hands on your hips sturdy. he doesn’t allow you to bend a bit to hold onto him for support. you stand between his legs, completely helpless. you squirm under his touch, trying to wiggle your way out of his grip, but jing yuan doesn’t back down from a fight quickly. he quickly turns you around, allowing his lips and hands to adore your back.

his kisses are slow, he almost sucks on the skin around your neck, watching the way you twitch at the ticklish sensation of his lips kissing up and down your spine. his hands smooth the dimples of your back, kneeding the plushy skin of your ass with his big hands. whenever you whine and complain, jing yuan is quick go hush you with kisses and slips his fingers into your mouth. his heavy fingers press down on your tongue, effectively silencing your noises.

“easy there now, little one. your patience will be rewarded.” his baritone voice booms through you. his free hand slides down between the apex of your thighs, feeling the hot moist skin. he has to stop himself from laughing at how wet you are because he sees how your shaking like a poor little lamb. he takes pity on you, spinning you around to face him finally. there’s an influx of tears brewing on your lower lashes that jing yuan cant help but smile at.

jing yuan takes your hand in his and guides you to the bed, finally away from his desk. he sits you down at the very edge, making sure to place your heels on his shoulders. with your legs spread thanks to his broad shoulders, jing yuan takes in the sight of your sopping cunt.

“so worked up over a few kisses,” the general teases, spreading your lips apart. you can’t help but whine as your head is full of cotton. he kisses your knees and the soft cut on your calf before kissing the innermost parts of your thighs.

his tongue is slow and languid, taking in every drop of your slick. he slides his tongue up your slit, gently prodding it at your hole. however, he’s quick to circle it around your clit. when his lips leave a soft kiss your clit, you jump. he laughs again, hands parting your thighs further.

“don’t be scared, little one. i won’t hurt you.” he finally encases your clit with his lips, sucking gently on the small bud. your eyes roll back, legs almost quivering at the sudden pleasure. your head dips back, hips being pulled forward. your back arches in this unnatural position as jing yuan presses on your lower back.

his free hand slides one digit into your cunt, making way for another to join it. in a matter of seconds, he’s able to find your sweet spot and bullies it. relentlessly rubbing and curling his fingers against the spot. with the stimulation from your clit and deep inside you, your body quivers. a soft whimper of the general’s name has him going crazy. he looks up at your through lidded eyes, driving you mad.

those gold eyes hold so much emotion. so much love, far too much lust. your heels dig deeper into his shoulders as he brings closer and closer to the edge. there’s a slight impatience in his behavior now. his fingers quicken their pace and jing yuan now uses the tip of his tongue to toy with your clit.

jing yuan curls his fingers a few more times before your stomach tightens. you’re so close to the edge you can almost taste it. pleas leave your lips in a whiny tone, making jing yuan’s dick twitch in his pants. aeons, you’re to be the death of him. he presses your knees to your chest, allowing his fingers to reach to an even deeper spot. within seconds, he has you creaming all over his fingers. he quickly replaces them with his tongue, licking up any all slick that falls from your cunt, needing to feel it melt onto his tastebuds. as you lay below him, legs twitching, jing yuan rests his head on your thigh.

“shall we go again, birthday girl?” oh lord.

NANAMI KENTO:

nanami’s always been so sweet and caring. never a moment in your relationship have you ever doubted his love for you. bug hans rubs your sides, melting kisses into the side of your head as you bury your face into his neck. a deep inhale of his scent has your mind going crazy, head feeling fuzzy. your sock cladded feet dig into the sofa, pushing yourself up off his cock. you shake your head fervently, fingers trembling.

“kento- i cant. oh god, i cant,” you helplessly moan, legs shaking at his hips. kento smiles up at you, taking his thumb to rub your bottom lip. your mouth opens obediently before pressing it on your tongue. you gingerly suck on his finger, allowing you to taste his skin as he sinks you back onto his cock. theres a thin gloss in your eyes as tears bubble at your lower lash-line.

“good girl, my good girl, arent you?” he shamelessly groans as he thrusts his hips up, keeping one hand on your hips. he pulls your chest flush to his, a hand racking through your hair. “sweet girl, you there?” theres not a single thought in your head besides how good he’s making you feel. he takes his thumb that was in your mouth out and watches as a string of saliva chases after it. with a low chuckle he puts his thumb on your clit, swirling it.

when you fall onto him, hands clutching onto his shoulders, nanami takes this opportunity to move you up and down on his cock. the added feeling of his rough thumb rubbing against your clit makes your head spin. you feel like the room is spinning the closer you get to cumming. that knot in your stomach refuses to stop growing larger and stronger. no matter how many tears fall, how loud you sniffle, nanami doesn’t relent.

“i know it’s a lot, honey. you can take it, yeah?” he lets out the sexiest moan, head rolling back when your cunt clenches around him. a string of curses fall from his lips, “oh fuck- honey, you’re so pretty you know that? pretty girl riding my cock,”

your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving long red streaks. however, nanami stands up with his cock still in you for a moment, only to flip you on your back. with you below him and your knees pressed to your chest now, nanami slides himself right back into you. at this angle, he can perfectly bully his thick tip into your sweet spot.

at this point you’re babbling, incoherent words replace your moans as you beg for some sort of mercy. yet nanami just keeps going. his thumb never leaves your clit, rubbing the bud up and down at a fast pace. with a few final thrusts and words of encouragement from nanami, your eyes roll back and your hips follow after his. you don’t even realize it by how quickly it came, but you cream all over his cock with the sweetest mewl.

nanami isn’t too far behind you, his fingers digging crescents into your plush skin. he throws his head back, groaning as he spills himself inside you, filling you with this warm sensation. there isn’t much you feel besides nanami’s lips pressing kisses into your cheeks, wiping the tears away.

“happy birthday, my love”

ZAYNE AND CALEB:

you stand between your two childhood friends, the bottom of your dress hiked up to your waist as caleb’s fingers find themselves buried inside your cunt. zayne’s lips find themselves occupied by your back. he kisses up and down your spine, hands busy with grabbing at your skin. caleb’s fingers wrap around your nipple, making you sqeual into his mouth. zayne lets out a low chuckle when you yelp at his cold fingers twirling your clit as caleb’s fingers curl and bully your sweet spot.

“look at you~” caleb whistles as he blows cold air onto your stiffened nipple. “you’ve grown so much over the years, pipsqueak.” he teases as his teeth lightly graze your other, neglected nipple. zayne’s nails rake down your torso, causing goosebumps to break out across your skin.

you can feel zayne’s buldge pressing against your ass, and you rocking against it isnt helping him too much. caleb guides your free hand to his hard on. your fingers rub and massage the area, making him groan into your mouth. he takes his fingers away from your chest, deftly unbuckling his pants.

zayne takes this opportunity to use his hands on your chest, massaging your tits. he has you flush to his chest, biting and kissing your neck and shoulders. all you do is grind your ass against him and helplessly whine. your mouth is wide open, begging for something to soothe your oral fixation.

“can’t go one moment without something in your mouth, huh?” zayne jokes, his fingers slipping into your mouth as they press on your tongue. his thumb and ring finger secure themselves onto your jaw, tilting you to face him. his intense eyes has your cunt gushing around nothing. you whine at the empty feeling, before caleb hushes you.

“shh. you’re a year older, yet even less patient. sometimes i think you grow more impatient as the years go by.” you pout at him, but you just look even more debauched. the tears rolling down your cheeks, mascara staining your under eyes, and lipstick smudged from an intense makeout sensation with the man behind you. “here, baby. come here,”

caleb puts his hand on your nape, pulling you closer to his cock, zayne pulls his fingers out of your mouth and places it on your lower back. your kneel in front of him, your face growing closer to caleb’s cock. you eagerly stretch out your hands, but zayne’s quick to restrain you with his belt — when did it even come off ?!

“there ‘ya go, pipsqueak. gently, don’t rush. we have alllll night, dont we?” he looks up at zayne, who doesn’t bother to look at him. instead, zayne’s eyes are focused on the way your ass looks pressed against his crotch. he takes this time to undress his lower half, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his cock out from its restraints.

you look up at caleb with these big eyes as you swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock. he groans, tugging against your hair. “fuck, you’re a tease, pup.” as you lap at his tip, you giggle,

“that’s what you get for making me wait this long,” your lips press kisses up and down his length, listening to his breathy moans. zayne finally presses his cock to your cunt, pushing himself in. instantly, you can feel the stretch of his cock, despite them both having three fingers in you at the same time.

you struggle to keep quiet, letting out huffs and mewls onto caleb’s cock. he guides his til to your tongue again, pushing your head down his length. zayne throws his head back when you push your hips against him. he squeezes your ass as he pushes your head down caleb’s cock. it takes caleb by surprise as well because the older man almost jumps out of his skin when his tip presses to the back of your throat.

zayne doesn’t let go tho, he puts his weight into his knees, sliding his hips back and forth. caleb also leans forward a bit, reaching under your body to rub your clit in mean, little circles. your muffled whines make both the men chuckle. how could they not tease the birthday girl, right?

as your tongue continues to swirl caleb’s cock, you heavily breathe through your nose trying not to gag. both the men finally let go of your head, allowing you to come up for air. zayne takes this opportunity to press your back to his chest. he whispers sweet words into your ears, cold breath tickling your skin.

caleb in the meantime, is back on your tits. his fingers tug and twist the swollen buds. he also guides his cock to your cunt, trying to fit himself inside as well. you panic, trying to move, but zayne’s arm wrapped around you middle doesn’t allow for any of that nonsense.

“you can take it, love.” zayne murmurs against your skin, pressing soft kisses to your nape and shoulders. you shake your head, watching the way caleb’s cock sinks inside of you. your eyes roll back at the stretch, legs quivering.

“fuck, pup. you’re so tight,” caleb and zayne groan in unison when you tighten up.

“i cant do it. too much, caleb, please no,” there’s more tears falling down your face, but caleb kisses those away.

“you can do it, sweetie. we’ve done it before, yeah? we can do it again,” a sharp sob falls from your mouth when you feel caleb sink in further. “let’s keep that mouth occupied, yeah? that’s why you can still worry, hm?”

zayne takes the hint and slips his fingers back into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue as caleb’s hand moves from your nipples down your body. for the millionth time, he touches your clit, rubbing the bud in harsh circles. muffled moans fall from you, eyes rolled back into your skull.

“atta girl,” caleb moans, finally bottoming out inside you. he watches the way the imprint on your stomach becomes more prominent the deeper he pushes himself inside you. “prettiest thing ever,” his lips occupy themselves on your neck. him and zayne find the same spot right below your ear.

their tongues rub against one another, caleb’s sliding into zayne’s mouth. you can hear the wet noises right beside your ear as well as their groans when you gush around them both. theyre both so careful with you at this stage, following an even rhythm, making sure you’re always full.

the angle at which theyre fucking you, the pace at which theyre touching you, and hearing the both of them groaning right into your ear has you keeling. your head falls onto caleb’s shoulder as your body twitches and shudders. the knot in your stomach is so intense, you think it might even hurt.

“i can’t- oh my,” your speak around zayne’s fingers that draw circles on your tongue. he presses them down your throat, borderline gagging you. your hips sputter as you cum hard. there’s something being sprayed onto caleb’s abdomen when he slightly gasps.

you feel like you’ve had the life taken out of you as zayne’s hand comes to rub up and down your back. you can hear soft coos from both the men as zayne tugs your back to his chest. your eyes are unfocused, everything is so bleary. in the process of you coming back down to earth, the two of them have already pulled out and laid you between them on the bed.

caleb finds himself between your legs again, kissing your thighs. his cheeks and jaw are soaked in your cum and zayne is quick to lay beside him, doing the exact same thing.

“pretty girl. you came so much, look at you. squirting all over me, hm?” caleb mouths against your clit, making your hips twitch. he presses a hand on your stomach as you weakly try to push them away. zayne’s cold fingers slide back inside you.

“no more, please!” you whine, hips unable to stop moving as zayne finds your sweet spot again.

“can you do that one more time, baby?” zayne asks so politely and his eyes catch yours. you can’t look away from him as he licks up and slick on the sides of your thighs while caleb enjoys the taste of you on his tongue.

this was going to be a long night.

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knavesflames · 1 month

Note

PLSPSLSOLD ARLECCHINO WHISPERING DIRTY THINGS INTO FEM READERS EAR WHILE SHE RIDES HER DICK

HELLOOOO sorry I’ve been a bit absent I just was super super busy :-( but here you go!! This situation got me thinking thoughts frfr

Contents: dick riding, praise, reader just wants to make cupcakes omg

Word count: 1135

Nsft utc<3

When you were baking this morning, you certainly didn’t expect to end up where you are now. I mean, surely it’s expected by now, with Arlecchino as your girlfriend. You should know by now that she’s prone to suddenly coming up behind you and turning you into putty with a few simple touches and whispers against your ear. But the cupcakes, you protest, but by the time you finish your sentence, you’re already breathless, the back of your dress slowly unzipping, thanks to the charred hands belonging to Arlecchino. Her nails softly scratch at the skin of your back, a place she knows you adore. And you prove that, by shuddering at the sensation, a smirk spreading on her face. The cupcakes are half forgotten by now as she leads you away from the kitchen with her hand on your arm, lips brushing against your ear with every step she takes, the sound of heels on wood echoing the suddenly quiet room.

Before you can blink (or that’s what it feels like) her lips are on yours, moving in the perfect rhythm as her hand brushes against the shoulder of your dress. Already unzipped, it falls, past your shoulder, resting at your elbow and revealing the top part of your breast. She doesn’t hesitate in catching a nipple in her mouth, sucking and swiping her tongue over the ever hardening bud.

“So needy, hm?”

Her voice is a low rumble, one filled with amusement and desire she can’t seem to hide. Her hands take purchase around your waist, and you bury your head in her neck as you feel your hands fumbling with the belt of her trousers. She lets you fumble, your nipples now rolling between her thumb and forefinger, her lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Are you so excited you’ve forgotten how to undo a belt, love?”

You grumble in response, but your breath is taken away when she pinches your nipple, motivating you to hurry up, already. Hurry is what you do, your head rising to catch her lips in another kiss, fast, needy, passionate. Her belt finally comes loose, her buttons undone, and she bites back a groan as her dick springs out, hitting her lower stomach. Instead, she breathes out harshly, her hands finding your waist again as she sits on the abundance of blankets and pillows (your choice, of course, she doesn’t see a need for it, but she secretly adores the smile you develop when you find a new pillow you like). Her hands drag her on to you, two fingers making their way between your legs, dragging across your slit to collect the slick that’s been gathered there. She hums in approval, giving herself a few pumps, distributing said stick to her dick from her fingers before she speaks.

“You’re soaked. We haven’t even started and you’re making a mess.”

You whimper quietly in response as she drags the tip across your slit, teasing you. Your hips move, grinding against it, your head falling forward as your face twists in pleasure. She lets you, her breathing speeding up, though she remains silent. When Arlecchino decides you’re finished with that, she doesn’t even give you a warning, slipping herself into you and letting out a sharp puff of air the same time you groan. Your head falls into her neck once more as she starts gently, small, shallow thrusts.

“God, you’re good. So good, good girl.”

Her voice is strained, it isn’t difficult to tell she’s holding back on making any sounds at all. Why she does this, you don’t know, but it’s so much hotter watching her face of struggle, her head tilted back, her eyes closed and her mouth open in silent moans. Her hands tighten around your waist, her sharp, sharp nails threatening to dig into the soft skin that lays upon you. She lets you do the work, riding her and getting what you need, but she’s so close to just holding you there and thrusting into you instead. She likes control, she likes to control the pace, and most of all, she likes to be the one to control when you orgasm over her.

“Keep riding me, pretty girl. You’re taking me so well. You can take all of me, look at you. Your pretty cunt is so greedy for me.”

Only she knows how much she loves whispering to you while you ride her, how much she loves watching your cheeks dust with pink, and your mouth opening and closing, only to open in a quiet moan. You and her both know the praise she gives you only spurs you on. You ride harder, the sound of skin meeting skin sounding over and over again as you bounce on her, a little harder every so often when Arlecchino can’t help but spear you on her cock.

And when your legs start trembling, your grip on her shoulders gets tighter and your moans get louder, she finally, finally lets out a grunt of pleasure, her hands shifting just slightly to position herself right before she stops your movements. Not a second of hesitation occurs before her hips start moving, thrusting up into you again and again. She makes sure the tip of her nestles into that spongy spot inside of you again and again, relishing in the mewls and moans coming from your pretty lips.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. Take it, doll, I know you can.”

Her thrusts stay fast until you cry out, a signal that your orgasm is fast approaching, sweat beading on your forehead. She changes her pattern, hard, slow and deep, just to prolong the pleasure, just enough to make you wait.

“Do you want to cum, pretty girl?”

A nod so urgent and a gasping breath, a shaky “yes” ringing out so loud it sounds like the walls are speaking back, and her thrusts return to their original pace.

“Then cum. Cum all over my cock. You make such pretty faces when you cum, so keep your eyes open. Keep them open or I stop.”

You know she isn’t joking. She’s done it before, stopped and waited. Cockwarmed you until the high of the almost orgasm ebbed away before starting again, the same command in place. So, your eyes stay open, rolling back as the peak of the orgasm crashes over you like waves hitting the sand. Her thrusts slow to a stop, her lips meeting yours once again, though this time, slow and loving as you come back to reality, as both of you calm down. Once you do, her fingers caress your hair, moving it behind your ear as she kisses your forehead, her voice murmuring once more with a hint of a chuckle in it.

“Now, those cupcakes. Are they chocolate?”

#knavesflames #arlechinno genshin #genshin impact #arlebina #arlechinno x reader #arlefuri #arle #genshin smut #genshin wlw #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #arlecchino smut #arlecchino genshin #genshin impact arlecchino #arlecchino

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cherryredstars · 1 month

Note

Hiii cherryy><!!

I LOVE your blog, ur writing is just soo good!! <3 I hope you're doing well!!

I was just wondering if you could possibly do a Miguel x virgin!reader ? Only if your comfortable and have time ofc!! And when I mean inexperienced.. I mean INEXPERIENCED . like never even had an orgasm before ><.. (I KNOT IT MAY BE KINDA WEIRD?? SRRYY!!!)

I asking this mostly bc I am one and like I'm WAY to shy to try anything, but the thought of Miguel guiding me thru it is just so 😵‍💫🧎‍♀️

AAAAAAAAAA

ANYWAYY thanks cherry ><!!! I hope you have a good day/night!!

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x virgin!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Guided Masturbation, Fingering

Summary: The key is to be gentle

A/N: It’s not weird at all, love!

Word Count: 730 (Not Edited)

Gentle.

He has to remind himself to be gentle. Has to remind you to be gentle. That this has to be gentle. Gentle and delicate and soft. No matter how hard and rough and fast he wants to be with you. It’ll have to wait. He’ll have to be patient. Because it isn’t about him, it rarely is when it comes to you. So, he’ll be gentle.

He’ll be soft when he lays you flat on the neatly made bed. His touch light when he helps pull the clothes from your body. His eyes concentrate as he spreads your legs, making sure not to strain your joints. Rubs soothing circles into the skin of your thighs to release the lasting tension stemming from your spine. The only roughness coming from the calluses on the tips of his fingers as he circles them around your wrist, guiding your hand between your legs. The hitching of his breath is faint as his eyes follow the movement of your fingers, the caressing of wet skin covering the noise.

“Gentle, cariño,” His voice floats, the tiniest pressure stopping the clumsy movements of your fingers.

You’re pressing too hard, irritating your sensitive skin too much. He guides two of your fingers with one of his, bringing it back to your twitchy clit. He makes soothing circles around the bud, biting the side of his cheek when you let out soft gasps as the pleasure you were trying to find flinches through you. Your fingers continue the movement even when he pulls his away.

“There you go, just like that.” He praises, placing a kiss to the inside of your knee.

You whine, confidence washing over your body before you trail your fingers further down. You wince the moment you try to stuff both of them through your small hole and Miguel tusks.

“I just told you to be gentle,” He scolds, pulling your hand away despite the whimper of disapproval you let out.

He folds your hand, the wetness on your fingers smearing on his palm. He slowly slides your middle finger back through your hole, your walls accepting it easily. You gasp, your hips bucking as your brows furrow. Miguel smiles as you melt into the bed, your finger slowly pumping in and out of you. Miguel’s hand once again manipulates your hand, your fingers curling against your walls. Miguel basks in your surprised reaction, guiding your pointer finger to press against your entrance.

It slides in much easier than the last time, your pleasure doubling. Your teeth sink into your lip to prevent the desperate noise that threatens to leave you. Right before you cut into the soft flesh, Miguel’s thumb tugs it away. It allows the sweet note to spawn from your mouth, your fingers curling and pumping desperately inside your gummy walls. It’s a truly beautiful sight, and Miguel can’t help it. His hand pulls your fingers out of you, ignoring your pleas of protest. Your taste is warm and sweet in his mouth, and he hums around your fingers. His tongue feels strange around your fingers, but you can’t help but think about how it would feel around somewhere else.

Your thought is cut off when two- no one- of his fingers sink into you. It’s slightly bigger than the two fingers you stuffed yourself with, and you squirm. Miguel hisses, your tight walls pulsing around his digit. You’re so tight, he can’t imagine feeding you his cock when you’re so small. His finger curls, pressing into your walls in an effort to allow more space. You gasp, grabbing at his arm as your body spasms. This feels way better than what you imagined, better than what you could ever do to yourself. You can feel tears well up in your eyes as something tight and hot burns your stomach.

“Mig..I-” You gasp, your back arching as your body locks.

You scream silently as you gush around his finger, your body twitching as Miguel continues curling his finger. He only stops when your body collapses back onto the bed, harsh breaths rising and falling from your sweaty chest. Miguel’s finger slowly slips out of you, your walls clinging desperately around it until it escapes with a small pop. The finger glistens with your release, and your eyes droop as Miguel sucks it into his mouth.

Nice and gentle.

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rxzennia · 2 months

Text

picky eater

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 leviathan? dog under the table! avvy, won’t you come home in 18 hours 30 minutes? final tribute to you before your release <3

aventurine shows up in your office without knocking, as he often does. you look up from your work, raising a brow – you’ve gotten so used to him doing this that you’ve given up asking him what he wants altogether.

“what, i can’t even visit my own secretary?” he teases, trotting up to your desk and setting down a delicate bag of… something. “lunch, my dear, lunch. you skipped it again, didn’t you?”

you ignore his pet name for you and stare at the bag, then at him, then back at the bag

it’s quite endearing how he tries to make sure you eat regularly

even though your composition doesn’t quite need you to eat the way other people do

not that you can’t, you just don’t really need to, so you don’t

it’s just less effort for you and more efficiency

but who are you to deny your boss’s goodwill?

“thank you,” you say, giving the entire bag a quick sniff. “the usual?”

“the usual.” he confirms

more like if he gets anything else there’s quite a high chance that you won’t like it

he’s realized that you’re picky as hell

even though you literally eat monsters for fun

okay, maybe not for fun

his point still stands, though

when it comes to your taste buds they’re the most hard to please things ever

it’s okay, someday he’ll find your favorite foods

in the meantime he’ll keep getting you stuff he knows you’ll eat

this information is obtained through trial and error, by the way

read: a lot of trials and a lot of errors. mostly errors

you flash him a small smile under your scarf

he doesn’t miss it; he’s known how to read your expressions by the changes in your eyes now

you set your papers aside and carefully put the few boxes of takeout on your desk

you have limited space on your desk because of the way you set it up

you don’t like big, wide spaces

when you finally pull down your scarf, aventurine’s entire person lights up with joy.

“what?” you ask, because he looks like that every time he sees your face.

“nothing,” aventurine chuckles, “just thinking about how you used to kick me out whenever you had to take off your scarf.”

you look at him from the corner of your eyes, your spoonful of rice half-raised

you are unimpressed

“would you like me to kick you out?” you offer very kindly

so cold

but he knows you’re not actually going to kick him out

still. so cold.

“hey, i brought you food!” he whines

you nod in agreement. “and i said thank you.”

why are you like this

please, as much as he loves these back-and-forths with you, have some mercy

then again the sight of you eating well is really heartwarming

plus the fact that he’s the one who's treating you

worth it 10/10

you’re using utensils like everyone else, but somehow you still eat really quickly?

what in the sorcery

you finish the contents in the boxes that smell familiar

the trustworthy boxes™

and that leaves you with… one delicate little box

it smells… ominous. like a crime against your tongue.

you look at aventurine with doubt in your eyes. what is he trying to feed you this time?

“cake,” he says, “i asked around for the best cafe in town.”

“you asked topaz.” you slowly take off the ribbon and open the box.

ouch, must you be so truthful?

because who else is he supposed to go to for these things?

it’s not like he can just ask anyone!

and he really wants to know your preference towards sweet things

you’ll eat very, very lightly sweetened things

but what about proper dessert?

you’re gentle towards the box; you’re staring at the canary-shaped cake

more examining than staring, actually

seems like you appreciate intricately decorated things

he’s making a mental list of things you like and don’t like

even though you’re not very cooperative with him on this

c’mon, he wants to know everything about you! he wants to treat you right! let him!!!

(you do not know of the existence of such a list)

you pick up the mini cake and sniff it

pokes it with your tongue when you think it passes your sniff test

sweet, but nothing too bad so far

time to take it further

you try a tiny bite in the corner

your senses get assaulted by sugar, if that even makes sense

no. 0/10 would not recommend.

but you keep your face blank so as to not be blatantly obvious

“hmm.” you set the pastry down on your desk like you’re deep in thought.

“how is it? you like it?” aventurine awaits your answer eagerly, watching you closely. a little too closely, to be honest.

“please do not ever visit that store for cakes again.” you say, getting a spoonful of the unbitten side and offering it to your boss. “mm.”

you’re telling him to try it?

the way you’re asking is so adorable

not even words, just a little hum and a small wave of the spoon

he does have a try of the cake

and have you feed him while he’s at it

very happy right now

would be better if the cake wasn’t sugared like it’s a day’s calories concentrate

he understands your response now

trying his best to not cringe

also knows to never ask topaz for dessert recommendations again

“if you don’t like it, let’s just toss it out,” he suggests, because he wouldn’t be able to stomach that either

you got this from him

territorial snake moment when he tries to take it from your hands

you hiss

jumpscare, he did not expect that

also oddly happy that you’re protective of the stuff he gives you

also concerned

“you’re not going to force yourself to eat that, are you…?”

“what are you saying, of course not,” you say, setting the barely-eaten canary cake on your desk all the while keeping aventurine’s hands away from it.

then your scarf comes and swallows the thing in one gulp.

what.

“it…” aventurine points a shaky finger at the white fabric that morphed into a faceless serpent’s head at the ends. “it ate it? just like that?”

“if it can swallow monsters whole, it can eat an overly sweet cake.” you shrug, finally wiping your mouth and pulling your scarf back up.

aventurine’s jaw would be on the floor if it was physically possible. unfortunately, it isn’t. “i thought you could still taste when your scarf eats things?”

“monsters.” you reply, patting your scarf as it settles into a regular piece of cloth again, “it tastes monsters. not food.”

so that's how you managed to finish even the things you absolutely hate? by having your scarf eat it?

aeons, there’s still so much he has yet to learn about you, isn't there?

#honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

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jennifer-jeong · 3 months

Text

[Smut] [Alhaitham x AFAB!Reader x Kaveh] Double Service

CONTENT NSFW, 18+, smut, pretty much porn no plot, afab (assigned female at birth) reader, feminine reader (referred to as "girlfriend"), established poly relationship, handjob, fingering, oral, anal and vaginal penetration, double penetration, creampie, f and m orgasm, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES Very very much inspired by this beautiful art on twitter <3

LINK FOR PART 1 LINK FOR PART 2

Word Count: 779

Poly Alhaitham, Reader, and Kaveh servicing Kaveh specifically for the first time.

Al Haitham fingers Kaveh while you suck Kaveh off. Kaveh is laying on his back at the edge of the bed, you’re on the bed, his face to the left of you with your head bobbing up and down on his sensitive cock. Your right hand is wrapped around Alhaitham’s lubed member as he stands, leaking with pre-cum due to the sight in front of him: Kaveh whimpering into the back of his hand, bucking up into your throat as you moan on him, sending the reverberations up his spine. Haitham’s slicked up middle and ring fingers pumping in and out of Kaveh, hitting that soft spot inside of him. And Haitham’s left hand toying with your clit as you’re on your knees, ass up, as you pleasure both your boyfriends.

Kaveh thinks you two will eventually switch around and you’ll do your usual thing of taking turns or trying positions but instead, Kaveh stays laying down on his back, still receiving pleasure. Haitham goes to position himself against Kaveh’s hole and he thinks all is normal until you straddle Kaveh and he’s confused. As Haitham fills Kaveh, Kaveh fills you. Kaveh moans loudly at the feeling and is absurdly turned on by this situation.

“B-both- ngh… at once- ah! S’too much~ mmm.”

You entwine your hands with Kaveh's and he squeezes your fingers tight because he's feeling so good. "Mmmh you're doing so good baby boy... ah- ngh," you purr out to him. Haitham grips your waist from behind you and you're sure it'll leave bruises but you don't mind, you actually kind of like it.

As you continue to ride Kaveh while Haitham fucks him from behind you, Haitham notices you have a butt plug in. As he sees you getting closer to your high earlier than them, he decides to help you out by taking out your plug and quickly replacing it with himself. “Haitham, wh- ngh!- ah!” you gasp, unexpecting it because you agreed to service Kaveh. However, both Haitham and Kaveh understood that the focus could shift just for a bit for the sake of their beloved girlfriend. You feel so amazingly full with the two of them inside. Kaveh fucks into you as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing delicious circles onto the sensitive bud. Haitham picks up his pace and has to hold you up to prevent you from collapsing due to the pleasure. You feel them enter you one after the other and it feels amazing. They love the feeling too as they feel each other pump in and out through the thin barrier of your skin between the inside of your ass and pussy.

You feel your pleasure building fast, you feel so full and it feels so good.

“S’fucking good mmmm- ah!”

“Let go princess,” Haitham whispers in your ear with a husky voice, enjoying the squeeze you give him as he says it.

“You’ve made me feel so g-good already baby, you deserve this” Kaveh says, quickening his thumb on your clit. Their words alone send you over the edge and you fall limp forwards, Haitham hugs your waist to prevent you from falling. You moan loud and your muscles shake as waves of pleasure wash over you, radiating from your core and your clit. They continue to slowly fuck you through your orgasm and it feels so heavenly. The drag of them along your walls making you see white. You babble out praises and “thank you's” to them for making you cum so hard.

Kaveh is so close after watching the display in front of him, Haitham notices and is close to finishing himself. Haitham pulls out of you and fills Kaveh again and it pushes him straight to the edge, one roll of your hips and Kaveh’s coming undone.

“Hahh… mm that’s it baby cum on his cock,” you purr at Kaveh as you slump down onto his chest, kissing at his neck.

“Mmpf!- c-cumming!”

Kaveh squeezes Haitham as he cums with a sob followed by whimpers. Haitham groans from the pressure and feels his own orgasm building.

“F-fuck- such a good boy taking me like this hm?” Haitham groans.

The thing that sends him tumbling over though is seeing Kaveh’s cum overflow out of your pussy.

“Y-yes! Ngh- P-please cum in me,” Kaveh babbles out.

“Mmmh fill him up baby,” you add.

His eyes roll back as the knot in his core snaps and he’s fucking his cum into Kaveh.

You three take some time to catch your breaths before cleaning up and giving lots of kisses, enjoying the sleep and cuddles that followed after <3.

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #kaveh x reader #kaveh smut #kaveh x alhaitham #alhaitham x kaveh #haikaveh smut #kaveh x alhaitham smut #alhaitham x kaveh smut #haikaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader x kaveh #kaveh x reader x alhaitham #j's silly ramblings

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c0llisiion · 4 months

Text

★Pairing: bang chan + f!reader

★genre: smut

★: drabble , shower sex , dom!chan , unprotected sex , name calling — lmk if i missed any!

★W/C: 442

A/N: like I promised a short drabble 🫶 quickly finished this up bcs i didn’t want to starve my pookies </3 i will try posting more fics like these during this month! Anyways enjoy!

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Shower sex with bang chan would be one of the best experiences of your lifetime. This man doesn’t hold back.

He has your face smooshed against the shower wall. One of his strong hands is on your hip, and the other is tightly wrapped around the nape of your neck as he pounds into you from behind. Warm water flowed down his body. The bathroom was filled with the loud sounds of wet skin slapping together, along with your ungodly moans and the running shower. The way he held onto your hips was so tight that it definitely resulted in bruises.

“C-chan…! Its … too much!” You whined out. Chan slowed down , pulling out till the tip of his thick dick before slamming into you with great force, sending your body flat against the shower wall. “Take it.. Wanna be a whore? I will treat you like one..” His thrusts became harder and harder each time. You couldn’t think much.

The feeling of his big dick abusing your soft, warm walls was your only sense. Choked-out moans escaped your mouth with each thrust. His fingers found your sensitive clit. He flicked and drew rough circles on the bud, making you buckle your knees. “Fucking look at you… pussy, so fuckin good.. its made for me and me only ,got it?“ you nod incoherently at his words as the overstimulation was making you hazy.

He moaned at the sight of your ass rippling every time it made contact with his abdomen. A thick ring of your cream coated the base of his cock. “Fuck chan! Im so close…” you whimpered. “You wanna cum? My pretty little slut wants to cum?” Chan whispered in your ears, a harsh spank landed on your ass, sending shock waves of only pleasure throughout your body.

You gasped at the impact. Holding onto Chan's wrist that was on your swollen clit. His other hand grabbed a handful of your wet hair before increasing his pace, abusing your sloppy cunt over and over again. You clenched around his length as his fingers on your clit worked swiftly to help you reach your orgasm. “Fuck baby… gonna cum.. gonna cum in your sweet little pussy…” You shut your eyes tight as a loud moan left your mouth. You gasp and cum around his length. Chan threw his head back, and with a loud groan, he filled you up with his seed. Rope after rope of his creamy white cum filled your womb full. He pulled out with a shit eating smirk as he watched a gush of yours, and his mixed arousal dripped down your pussy and thighs.

A/N: thank you 4 readinggg <3 lmk who I should write for next!!!

#౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ yun’s silly fics #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #straykids smut #stray kids #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan #christopher bang

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alphabetboyluvr · 10 months

Text

landslides - 001 | goldrush - jjk

part title credit: goldrush - taylor swift

everybody wonders what it would be like to love you... i can't dare to dream about you anymore... it never will be...

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn't ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he's yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being 'you' to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do.

warnings: fluff more than angst, but it's not clean cut - there's also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you've been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

wordcount: 6.8K

note from holly: so... i dogsat (? idk if thats a word) for my friend last chuseok and this was the result hahahaha. my friends dog (boba <3) is so tiny and small!! but i've always been a big dog girlie so bam was fun to write. i really love this one and have recently found all of my old notes from around that time detailing the rest of the couples lives, so pt. 2 is in progress.

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

Bam notices the storm roll in before you do. His ears twitch, head lifting from its rested perch on his paws.

“What’s up, baby? Hey?” You coo, his sudden shift obviously prompted by something. His snout begins to twitch, too, and his bottom lip shakes as a small growl vibrates from his throat. His eyes are on the window, stalking the clouds as they roll past. “Hey.”

You sit up a little straighter to lean forward and scratch behind his ear. He leans into it, but doesn’t take his eyes away from the sky.

“You see the rain, huh?” You hum, looking between the pup and the window ahead. You can’t place it yet - it’s too far in the distance - but you find yourself coming to sit beside him. He doesn’t lean up against you like he usually does. Just continues to lightly growl.

There’s no threat behind his noises, no malice - he’s just shouting back at the thunder you can’t hear. When you see a bolt of lightning flash in the distance just beyond the city skyline, you know that it won’t be long until Jungkook’s apartment block is drenched in the weather.

It’s just gone midnight when he calls. His face is a little puffy, smile a little lopsided.

“Hey Bammie,” he coos into the camera. You’ve got it angled down to where the pup is resting his head on your knee, peacefully unwinding after his long walk. Bam doesn’t stir at Jungkook’s voice, so he tries again. “Bammie?”

The way he elongates his puppy’s name is sweet - a tone of voice reserved only for his most trusted companion. He sure as hell has never spoken to you like that.

“Sorry, bud,” you say as you lift the camera up to your face. He’s pouting. “I don’t think the vibrations sound the same through the phone.”

“I miss him,” he says not even caring to acknowledge your thought process. “Is he okay? Was he good on his walk?”

“He’s all good,” you smile. “Best boy in the world. None of the other dogs you mentioned were down at the park, so it was just us two.”

He nods into the camera and purses his lips. “They might all be away. Visiting family.” He rolls over in his bed and lets out a yawn. “How’s the apartment? Got everything you need?”

You nod back. “All good. Might have eaten my way through your cheese stash already. I’m gonna shower then head to bed in a minute.”

“Make sure you leave the bathroom door open a little,” he says. “He’ll whine if not.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate you doing this. He hasn’t been too much work, has he?”

“He’s good as gold,” you say as you switch to the back camera. The view is serene, and Jungkook’s lips instantly settle into a smile. Bam is up on the sofa with you, snuggled against your lap. The skyline twinkles through his window, the reflection of his mood lamp obscuring some of it - but he’s quietly pleased that you’re using it. It’s how he normally winds down, too. Main lights off, galaxy on his ceiling. Must make Bam feel a little more at ease. You go to scratch behind his ear, and he huffs a little, all content and cosy. “Thanks for asking. He’s never too much work. You trained him well.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums. “Could have trained you a little better, though.”

He laughs when you switch the camera back to your face, mouth open, brows knitted together. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” he grins now but tries to hide it; to restore the stoicism to his face. It doesn’t work. “What did I tell you about the sofas?”

You purse your lips together as if you’re not smiling. He’s got you there, admittedly.

“Look, he’s just so cute!” Despite the fact you’ve turned the camera back onto Bam, Jungkook can tell you’re pouting. “How could I say no?!”

“Easily!” Jungkook laughs. “That’s how he became so well trained! I leave for one night and-”

“Shuuuush,” you laugh, and when the camera switches back to you, Jungkook can’t help but let his smile persist. You look tired, and so does he, but there’s something about the call that has made you forget all about the fact you were planning on going to bed soon. “My swamp now. My rules.”

“My swamp,” he protests, but the look on his face is so saccharine that you can’t take him seriously. He thinks the same could be said for you. “Anyways, it’s late. Go get your shower. If you need more towels, there are some in the cupboard by the boiler. Don’t forget to turn the vent on - it’s the switch next to the light.”

“Alright, will do,” you nod and then yawn. Bam pricks his head up. “Hey baby,” you speak to him. “Did I wake you?”

“Show me him.”

You switch the camera around to where you’re scratching at Bam’s ear. He leans his head into the scratch, thoroughly enjoying it, your long nails far scratchier than Jungkook’s. It’s not the same - Jungkook is far stronger, so is a little rougher which suits Bam just fine. Still, he likes your scratches better than no scratches at all.

Jungkook whines. “I miss him.”

“He misses you, too. Want me to call in the morning?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re up early tomorrow, heading over to Haedong Yonggungsa in the morning. Probably be up before you. Send me pictures though.”

“Will do. Night, buddy.”

“Night gremlin,” he smiles, and then begins to coo. “Night Bammie. Daddy misses you.”

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him in the way that you do when he says that; lips turned upwards at the very corners, dimples pressing into your cheeks, eyes bright.

“Shut up,” he says, but you’re already laughing.

“Daddy.”

“I am his dad!”

“Daddy.”

“Oh my god, fuck off,” he laughs. “Have nightmares, gremlin.”

“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”

“Fuck off!”

You hang up before he can protest your taunts any more, though he does text you one final ‘fuck off,’ and a reminder that you can bolt his front door if it will make you feel safer.

His apartment is in a high-rise, and his neighbourhood is far nicer than yours. You do the bolt up regardless, and think that it’s sweet that he considered your comfort enough to remind you about it.

Bam sits by the sliding door of the bathroom, the tips of his paws just teetering over the line of the door frame. He rests his head on his legs, snout angled towards the hallway. It still makes you feel a little weird. You don’t really want a dog watching you shower, even if he is a dog and has no real understanding of what’s happening - so you turn your back to him and just reassure yourself that Jungkook showers with the door open wide.

It’s a funny thing, to think about your co-worker’s showering habits. Not one that you’ve ever thought to indulge in before - but Jungkook would go ballistic if he heard you refer to him as your ‘co-worker.’ You’re friends. Pretty good ones, at that.

You’re level players at your company; earn the same wage, hold the same rank. There’s not really any competition between the pair of you - you work in different departments - but are often paired together when the two sections merge for joint projects. You make for a good team.

Over the years, you and Jungkook have also learned that you’re a highly capable team when it comes to playing beer pong against your colleagues on Friday nights, and at the mixed-doubles tennis tournament that your company insists on you participating in every year. It’s either that or be on the Christmas Party Planning committee, and you know which you’d rather do.

Thinking about tinsel in August? No, thank you.

There is however one crucial flaw to your partnerships: how you live your lives. How you manage your money.

See, Jungkook is frugal. He makes big investments - his apartment, his cars, games consoles, Bam. Doesn’t spunk his cash away on the small shit. His apartment is in the heart of the city, only a few floors from the very top. He gets a birds-eye view of the world around him. You don’t even want to imagine how much his deposit cost.

Probably more than you have in your savings. You do spunk your cash away - on the small shit, no less. Clothes, cafes, that sort of stuff. Nothing that holds permanence. It frustrates Jungkook to no end. He thinks you could have a better life if you just used your money wisely - but you’re happy in your slightly cramped apartment, happy when the serotonin of a shopping spree boosts your mood, happy when you’re laughing with your friends over coffee and cake.

You wouldn’t be happy if you felt restricted. You think that Jungkook is.

He disagrees. He has enough in the bank to buy whatever he wants. He has financial freedom.

But there’s a difference. You’re both free in your own ways.

It’s for that reason you’d never work as a couple. Would infuriate one another far too much. Everyone who is close to you both knows this; how badly suited you would be. They’ll joke about all of the women in the office trying to get their mitts on Jungkook - even the married ones - but not you.

It’s funny because they’re right. Everybody wants him.

He collects stars from their eyes and accumulates them in his own. The girls blush and giggle about how he looks at them with galaxies, but they don’t realise what a thief he is. Don’t realise he’s stolen their shine, and incorporated it into his own. A spotlight follows him, and you enjoy watching the show unfold with an amused grin whenever a new secretary catches his gaze for the first time.

It’s not intentional. You don’t think Jungkook realises he does it. In fact, he hadn’t realised that it was such a pattern of behaviour until the midnight squalor of a dive bar had you talking about office conquests, and how the photocopier room had seen his bare ass more than it had seen toner changes.

“Shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon,” you’d grinned.

“Firstly, that’s a horrible phrase - and secondly, it takes two to tango. They’re just as much to blame as I am.”

But they’re not. He’s the only repeat offender.

“And anyways,” he had deflected, sinking down the final dregs of his beer. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint. Everyone’s fucked a colleague at least once.”

You’d just raised an eyebrow.

“You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Like I said - shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon.”

Now, if he’d have said housemate, you would have folded. Downed your drink. Ordered a repeat round.

Something about a shared space - domestication - really gets you. It’s joint laundry loads, shared dinners, movie nights; grocery shopping, D.I.Y. furniture, arguments about who gets the bigger room. More often than not, it never matters, ‘cause you just end up staying in theirs.

You live alone now. After the third time, you knew better than to let yourself fall into the trap once more.

He learns about your affliction a few months later, and goes on tease you relentlessly.

In fact, he mentions it when he propositions you a few weeks before Chuseok. You had both spent the last couple of holiday periods overworked, slogging through the festivities. For the first time since either of you can remember, your workload has eased up.

You’ve already told him you’re planning on doing sweet, sweet fuck all. You’ve told your family you will be working, because you just want to finally breathe for a while; stay in with a tub of ice cream and your favourite films. Speak to no one. Do nothing.

“I’ve got a favour to ask you,” he had said as he approached your desk before the end of the day. It was a Friday, but you weren’t heading for after-work drinks with the usual suspects like you typically did. You had a date, instead. A third one with the same guy - Mingyu - which felt like a miracle. Even Jungkook was a little shocked that the poor guy wasn’t sick of you.

“Go on,” you had mused as you checked over your to-do list for the following week.

“You gotta promise me something first.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t fall in love with me.”

You’d swatted him away the ruler on your desk, and told him to get his head out of his ass. “Been able to resist your charms this long, Jeon. Give me some credit.”

“It’s only ‘cause you know I’d reject you, you little gremlin.”

“I thought you wanted a favour? Funny way of going about it.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right,” he had conceded with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me.”

“What do you want?”

“How would you feel about potentially staying at mine over Chuseok to look after Bam? My parents want us to head down to Busan for the weekend and see relatives seeing as I’m finally free and know it’s a big ask but I-”

“Oh my God, yes?!” You had smiled so wide Jungkook thought you might fracture your jaw.

You love Bam.

In fact, he might just be your favourite thing about Jungkook.

Occasionally you walk him with Jungkook on the weekends, when you’re both hungover and need to get out of a slump. You’ve grown up with pets, but moving to the city in your early twenties to pursue your career meant apartment living.

You’re a rural girl deep down, and would never want to keep a pet in a high rise.

Jungkook manages it, but he goes home at lunchtime to walk Bam during the winter. In the summer, when it’s too hot, he goes home at lunch regardless, to lounge around with Bam under the air con.

Sometimes, you go with him. Bam is always pleased to see you.

Jungkook lied and said he asked around because he didn’t want to inconvenience you.

Truth is, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with his baby. He’d never spent a night away from Bam. Hated the idea. Despised it, in fact. He would have just taken Bam with him to Busan, but didn’t think it would be fair to force him on the journey from Seoul.

Over in Busan, when Jungkook hangs up, the conversation isn’t over. It continues in his head.

“Hey, wait…”

“Mhhm?”

“You just… look nice tonight, that’s all.”

He thinks you’d blush. Would tell him to lay off the soju. Accuse him of getting too drunk for a family get-together. He’d let you. Would take the beating of your false accusations, because it would be far easier than admitting he’s not had a single drop.

He thinks of the hug he’ll give Bam when he gets home; how wild his tail will waggle, how he’ll jump all over the place, and how you’ll be giggling. In his mind, you’ll be smiling just as wide as he is.

You’d stay for dinner. Jungkook would order from your favourite place to say thank you. Bam would snuggle up to Jungkook - on the sofa - and you’d be on the other side, stroking his back. He’d be happy. Bam, not Jungkook. But also Jungkook. Hopefully you, too.

When the time would approach for you to go home, you’d offer to help. Rinse out the containers. Hair up in a claw clip, t-shirt off your shoulder like it so often is.

Jungkook doesn’t notice, but his hands begin to trail down his body as he thinks of you. His phone is still on his chest, rising and falling with every beat of his heart. The tips of his fingers stroke against his skin.

He thinks of you laughing with him about something inconsequential. You’d flick water in his direction when he’d make some joke at your expense. It’d all be in good humour.

But then he’d flick some back at you, and water war would break out. Bam would run excitedly between the pair of you, Jungkook chasing you around the kitchen island with wet hands - and you’d do the exact same back. You’d flick water over the counter, tap still running and he’d call you a gremlin.

There’s a smile on his lips as he thinks of his. His hands roam further south. He’s ticking at his abdomen. It’s nice. Feels calm. He likes to engage his senses when he thinks of scenarios like these. Makes it feel more real.

But then he’s thinking of your shirt and the fact it’s white.

And then he’s imagining catching up with you, holding you captive as he angles the tap towards your face. You’ll be shrieking and scrambling to get away, Bam by your feet, Jungkook laughing.

He’d relent, but only enough for you to twist to face him.

Jungkook’s fingers are by his thighs. Stroking. Caressing. He’s avoiding his cock. Knows it’s firm. His index finger spreads to his balls. Teases.

And then he thinks of your body pressed against his torso, your ass to the counter.

You’d both be soaked.

He’d look at your lips. Look in your eyes. Feel your chest against his. He’d swallow hard.

It’s at this point he forgets about Bam in the scenario. It’s just you and him.

His palm rests over the length of his cock. Presses down. His hips roll.

He’d tell you that you’ve made a mess. You’d tell him to clean it up. His heart would be racing. So would yours.

And it’s funny, because his heart actually is. It’s beating so fucking hard in his childhood bedroom, that he thinks his parents must be able to hear it through the walls.

He’s in a far-too-firm single bed, but in his head, he’s with you in his kitchen.

He begins to grip his cock, long fingers wrapping around his shaft. He pulls up. Pushes back down. Says your name. Whines.

He doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Just thinks about you.

Thinks about the way it would feel to sink his lips into yours; the first bite of a forbidden fruit. Thinks about that quick tongue of yours, and if it would be just as quick to find its way into his mouth. Thinks about your manicured nails that Bam loves so much, and how they’d scratch against his scalp instead. Thinks about the way his hips would rock against you, kind of like they are now; pulsing beneath his duvet.

His mind jumps. Skips the foreplay. Doesn’t mean to - but the thoughts are intrusive. Insidious. Insatiable. He can’t help it.

He pushes up into his hand. Pauses. Waits out the feeling. Retracts. Repeats.

In his head, it’s you that he’s pushing into.

The sensation is entirely different, granted, but - fuck - he hasn’t gotten himself off all week and hasn’t had sex in far longer, so it all feels the same to him.

He hasn’t worked out the mental logistics.

His imagination is jumping from the kitchen to his bedroom and then back to the kitchen again. Can’t decide where all of this is happening - and then suddenly, he finds himself railing you in the utility room.

You’re perched above the washer, held in place by him. He can smell the laundry detergent. He’s got spotlights in the room, but they’re turned off. Only lights from the hallway and the city skyline illuminate you.

It’s obscure. The shadows in his head conceal you a little. He’s gripping your waist beneath your shirt. The baby gate which keeps Bam out of the laundry room is closed.

You’re not talking, just fucking, fucking, fucking and -

“Fuck,” he whines, hand is jerking at his cock, heart rate stuttering.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.

Shouldn’t let his mind jump again to a point where you’re fucking naked, and your sodden shirt is on a pile of yet-to-be-done laundry.

But then it jumps again, and one of his towels is on the floor. He’s laying down, back against it. The same position that he’s in now in his childhood bedroom - but he’s thinking about you. The silhouette of your body. The warm curves of your body. The way you bounce on his cock and then-

Oh god, it’s torture the way his cock throbs. Pre-cum leaks from his tip as his speed builds. It’s just a fantasy. Nothing more nothing less. But it’s you. And then he’s thinking about pulling you down for a kiss, and the scent of your perfume and the way you’d moan into his mouth and then his legs are shaking, torso tensing.

He’s taking it too far. Too fucking far. You. Fuck. He can’t. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps going. Fucks his hand like it’s your pussy.

He’s pulling himself closer, closer, closer, and then he thinks about your voice, and the way you called him Daddy, and he can’t help himself. The pressure that releases in his stomach is catastrophic. Jungkook mewls your name. Calls you baby. Unloads all over himself. White hot cum paints his belly. Seeps into his belly button. Makes a mess of his hand as he coaxes the last few ropes out. It’s been a while since his last nut, but the amount he produces is not fucking normal.

It rolls down the side of his toned torso, Jungkook swallowing harshly as he tries to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t think he can. Doesn’t know what to do with himself. Just kind of lays there. Curses. Knots his brows together. Is frustrated with himself.

You’ve been friends for years. He’s never done anything like this before. He chalks it up to nothing more than him just being a little too horny for his own good. Cleans himself off. Puts his phone on charge. Berates himself for being a piece of shit. Spends a good ten or so minutes staring at the ceiling with an empty head before he falls asleep.

And it’s funny, because when you wake up in the morning, panties damp, the dream you had about Jungkook railing you in his own damn bed, you find yourself looking across the space where he usually sleeps. You reach ouch. Stroke the emptiness. Curse. Spend the rest of the day unbearably horny. It frustrates you. Makes you snappy with Jungkook when he calls.

He asks if you’ve seen Mingyu. You tell him no. He says maybe you should - but makes sure to add, “He’s still not allowed in my apartment.”

“I’m not gonna bring anyone into your space, Jungkook.”

It’s something he knows, and something he trusts you not to do, but he’s still reinforcing boundaries. Making sure that there are still some left. He thinks that if he pushes you closer to someone else, it will sort his brain out. Alleviate him of the guilt that he’s feeling.

But you don’t see Mingyu.

When Jungkook calls again that evening to find you walking Bam alone, he’s pleased. Doesn’t want some guy you’re fucking anywhere near his most prized possession. Bam, that is. Not you. But now that he thinks of it, he finds he doesn’t want Mingyu anywhere near you, either.

“Good day?” You ask, voice a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t really smile. “I miss Bammie.”

You pout. “He misses you too. He’s gonna be so excited when you get home.”

The camera switches to the back camera so he can watch Bam bound along the path. He’s on his lead, snout sniffing in all the flowerbeds. It’s dark out, but there are enough lights on the trail for him to be able to see clearly.

“How is he? Eating okay? Going to the bathroom okay?”

“Eating like a champ, and producing shits to confirm that,” you say flatly. It’s definitely your least favourite part of animal ownership - but the reward is so much greater than having to pick up shit off a sidewalk.

“That’s my boy,” Jungkook grins, before turning his focus to you. “You all good? Seemed a little stressed earlier.”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change when the front camera flips back to you, but he finds his heart racing again. When you turn your head to check the car that’s driving past, he notices your hair is up with a claw clip. Just like it was in his… thoughts about you the night before. He likes how attentive you are - how you checked the source of the noise. You’re protective. Follow your instincts. Thinks you’re the best person he could have asked to look after Bam.

“I’m all good,” you say, and you really are.

“I know it’s not exactly the relaxing Chuseok you were planning-”

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you smile. “It’s been nice. I like Bammie far more than I like you.”

“Understandable.”

You both smile, and Jungkook begins to babble about his day, telling you stories about his parents, and his weird cousin who never knows when to not say inappropriate things, and the aunt who keeps trying to set him up with all of her friends’ daughters.

“Don’t shit where you eat,” you remind him. “Sounds too close to home. Your auntie would never be out of your business.”

“I know, I know,” he rolls his eyes. “And hey - it’s been, like, a year since I last did that! Cut me some slack, gremlin. Anyways, Mingyu works in our building. You’re basically shitting where you eat.”

“I’m actually… I think I’m gonna cool things off with him.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like not a big deal. I’m just not really feeling it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not,” Jungkook admits, but is sombre as he does so. He remembers how happy you’d seemed after the first few dates. “But I am sorry that you haven’t found the right guy yet, gremlin.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll find the love of my life at the dog park tonight.”

“You are not allowed to use my baby as a flirting tactic.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Too late - I’m already here and there is an absolute DILF. Byeeeee.”

“Wait, no-”

You hang up before he can finish, with a grin on your face to rival a Cheshire cat.

The park is empty. Not a single DILF in sight. You ignore his call when he rings back. Will let him sweat it for a bit.

Jungkook lies awake that night.

Doesn’t do much.

His family are still chatting in the sitting room, but he can’t draw himself away from the sanctuary of his own private space, where your voice is still echoing around the room. He’s starting to understand why you’d been craving your space so much for the holiday period.

He doesn’t wanna have to return to the room with a false smile, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that could rival the ache of getting the ferry across Busan harbour during monsoon season.

Doesn’t want to form cognitive thoughts that distract him from his mindless reflections of you.

Jungkook’s mind works like a house, and right now he’s in the annexe.

He rarely ever goes in there.

Finds he gets too comfortable and neglects the rest of the house. He’s got a garden to tend to, a kitchen to clean, and beds to make - but why would he leave the annexe when it has everything he needs? He’s comfortable there.

It’s normally reserved for the hyper-fixations he’s trying not to fixate on. He locks them away. Hasn’t really visited since he got hooked on GTA5 when he should have been studying for the University Entrance Exam. It’s still there, and he knows better than to pop it in his games console - but there’s someone else on the couch, now. It’s not just him in his mind-annexe. Someone’s in his space. He daren’t let himself go further into the room.

In fact, he’s desperately trying to jump across to the main house. Get himself out of the thoughts that are gonna consume him. He needs to close that God damn door.

But he watches the figure like a car crash. He’s scared. Unable to look away.

Not for fear of it being a monster hidden in the depths of his mind.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Monsters don’t wear their hair up with butterfly-shaped claw clips, or let the clasp of their necklace trail down their spine like that. Monsters don’t twist their back out of habit just to make it click. Monsters don’t spend their days doodling in a journal like the figure on his couch is doing.

But you do.

An iteration of Bam rests up against Jungkook’s leg in his mind, nose wet, tail lightly wagging, so he puts his hand on his pup’s shoulder for comfort. To support him. To guide him away from the annexe and back into the damn main house.

“C’mon,” he says to Bam, expecting him to leave. Expecting him to follow his commands.

It’s his head, after all - but Bam doesn’t heed his commands. Instead, his claws click against the hardwood floor and towards the figure on Jungkook’s couch. A palm outstretches, and Bam leans into it. Hums in content as a set of dark nails scratch at his ear.

“Hey, baby Bammie,” the figure sings and Jungkook knows that voice. Knows it so well that it’s hardly a surprise it’s embedded into his brain so perfectly.

And he knows.

He knows if he lets the person turn around exactly who it’s gonna be. He knows that he can’t let it happen. He won’t.

Because he and you are friends; nothing more, nothing less. Incompatible at best. A match made in hell; so wrong it could never be right.

Jungkook sits up. Shakes his head. The world in his mind tears away into darkness. He stands and tells himself to get a grip before joining his family. He needs the distraction. Needs to have cognitive thoughts. Can’t let himself get trapped. Can’t let him kid himself into thinking that you’re anything more than his friend.

It’s just cause he’s missing Bam, he reasons. Emotions are getting all mixed up. It’s the affection he feels for his beloved best friend that is getting misplaced onto you - although, if he thinks about it (which he won’t (knows better by this point (knows his mind can’t be trusted to behave))), he’d realise that you are his best friend.

It’s unfair to compare you to Bam because you’re an entirely different species, but there’s no other human he likes better than you.

One more day, and he’ll be home. One more day, and he won’t have to call you when he’s all sleepy and confused over his feelings. One more day, and things will be back to normal. One more measly day.

And then he’ll be reunited with Bam, and he won’t have the stress of family or thinking about the week of work ahead to contend with.

One more day. He can do this.

He will do it. Will barrel home at the speed of lightning; will stop only for red lights and maybe the occasional gas station snack, potato spirals on a pointed wooden skewer and deep-fried chicken slathered in a sauce he can never quite figure out the recipe for.

He’ll think about picking you up some bungeoppang - the ones filled with choux, not red bean paste - because he knows that you adore it so. There have been occasions when you’ve begged him to drive you out of the city to the large gas station out West just so you could have bungeoppang from one specific stall.

The signage is faded, and the prices haven’t changed since 2009, but that’s how you know it’s the good shit. A family recipe batter passed down for generations. The woman who makes it is always the same, and though she never remembers you, you always remember her. Beam so brightly Jungkook thinks he’s going blind whenever you spot her.

It’s only because of that one time you’d showed up with the sole mission to retrieve some of the delicious delicacies, only to be confronted with a handwritten ‘closed today, back tomorrow’ note taped to the menu. You never know when the next family emergency or trip out of town might be for your beloved bungeoppang-making Ajumma.

It’s a little after midday when Jungkook’s car rolls into the gas station. He’ll be home soon.

He tells himself that he’s just doing as he always does. Will get his tornado potato. Wolf it down. Go back for some chicken, maybe some tteok.

He’s stayed out of the annexe today. Doesn’t even think about the doorway because he knows the magnetic pull is far too strong for his cobalt heart.

Had ignored your call this morning - sorry, just saying goodbye to everyone. will see you later. - and had pushed all thoughts of you to the side. He’s even tried to stop thinking about Bam because thoughts of him will inevitably lead to thoughts of you and Jungkook is getting dizzy, quite frankly. It’s like he’s chasing his tail, never knowing when to admit defeat.

At least Bam gets enjoyment out of it when he does it. All Jungkook gets is lingering feelings of remorse.

But as he hits the home straight, a small paper bag full of choux bungeoppang cooling down on his passenger seat, his head starts to clear. He’s fixed the lock on the gate that leads to the annexe. Won’t go down that path.

Jungkook arrives ahead of schedule. Parks his car, and doesn’t tell you he’s arrived. Leaves his bag in the boot of the car, but picks up the pastries from his passenger seat.

Opens the door of his apartment quietly. You don’t hear it. Are too busy dancing around the living room with Bam to some mid-noughties classic.

“Hey,” you laugh a little breathlessly as finally notice him. He’s leaning against the wall. Is wearing his glasses, to make up for the long drive. You think it’s a crying shame he doesn’t wear them at work, too.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“No, not all,” you say. There are deep creases below your eyes, testament to the size of your smile. “Me and baby Bammie-” you reach over and stroke at his sides, a little rough and tumble, but perfectly joyous “- were just burning off a little energy before you got home.”

Jungkook crouches, arms outstretched for Bam. The puppy knocks into Jungkook’s chest, legs all moving slightly out of coordination, excitable whines sounding in his throat. His tail wags so fast you think he’d be able to produce electricity if he really tried.

They match each other’s energy; delirious happiness, content only when in one another’s presence.

“Hey buddy,” he coos. “Daddy’s home. I missed you. Missed me too, hey? C’mere.”

His strong hands stroke Bam’s sides, and you watch how playful they both are with unadulterated awe. It seems absurd how similar the two of them are; man and his best friend.

“He was lost without you,” you confirm.

“It’s that right?” Jungkook pouts as he scratches behind Bam’s ears, cradling his face in his hands. “Did Bammie miss Daddy?”

Bam barks. Yes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, boy. I’m home now, though. Daddy’s home.”

Yes, you think. Yes, he is.

The night dissolves much like Jungkook thought it would. You stay for dinner. Watch crappy entertainment shows, and laugh at how absurd people can be. There’s warmth in his apartment, even though he hasn’t turned the heating on.

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this,” Jungkook says softly as midnight approaches. Bam sighs. There’s rain on the windows, but the storm doesn’t bother him tonight. Not in the slightest. “Thank you.”

Your head shakes. Smile perseveres. “Happy to do it. You know how much I love Bam.”

Silence wraps around your words like a velvet bow, pulled taut. There’s no double knot, but there needn’t be. It isn’t unravelling any time soon.

“So,” you change topic. “How long do you reckon it will take the new secretary to fall in love with you? I’m thinking maybe four days.”

Jungkook wants to make a joke; tease you about how your mind jumped from how much you love his dog, to the idea of loving him. Not you loving him, granted, but it only took a few electrical signals between neurons for you to get there. Must associate him with love pretty closely.

“Four days? Far too quick.” Jungkook pauses. “You’ve been staying here for four days. Reckon that’s an appropriate amount of time to fall in love with someone?”

He’s being facetious. It’s all in jest and yet you feel your heart beat a little faster. Only for a moment. There’s a mild concern in your features, fearful that he can somehow sense the thoughts you’ve been having; the fantasies, the daydreams, the moments of weakness.

You look at him with eyes he doesn’t recognise. Your lashes are low. Sultry, even. Suggestive. Teasing.

And then, they roll.

“Jeon, you have those poor girls on their knees within a single ‘hello’. Don’t act like you don’t know it, you big old flirt.”

“If Bam wasn’t so peaceful, I’d kick you,” he mumbles, stroking at the dark fur behind his pup’s ear. Bam sighs, content to have him back. There’s a smile on Jungkook’s lips. Both are perfectly content. Both are happy to be with the people they like the most in the world.

“He’d just defend me,” you taunt. There’s a serenity to your jokes, and light-hearted banter that means nothing more, nothing less than just enjoyment of one another’s company. “I’m his favourite now.”

Jungkook laughs. Scratches a little firmer behind Bam’s ear. “You hear that, boy? Gremlin really thinks you’d choose her over me.”

You pull your torso back. Turn your body to face his. Let disbelief wash over your features, as if Jungkook saying shit like that’s a surprise. The movement alerts Bam, his head lifting, the chain links of his collar rattling. He looks over to you, then back to Jungkook.

“He LOVES me.”

“I thought dogs are supposed to take after their owners, though?” Jungkook teases. “And I can’t fuckin’ stand you.”

Your playful shock dissolves into narrowed eyes and a suppressed grin. Bam’s looking at you again, so you cup his dainty face and scratch the underside of his jaw. “You hear that, baby Bammie? How are you so lovely when your Daddy is such an asshole?”

Jungkook’s steady gaze lifts to you from Bam. You’re still cooing at the puppy, scratching beneath his snout, but Jungkook’s back in that damn annexe again. He isn’t smiling - but his eyes are unbelievably soft.

So, so velvety. Like satin, maybe; ribbons tied around ponytails. Brushed cotton, perhaps; his still-warm bedsheets fresh out of the tumble dryer.

Soft, like he imagines your hair would be; released from its claw clip, falling around his face. Soft, like he imagines your lips would be; pressed against his, in the privacy of his bedroom. Soft, like he imagines your laugh would be; soundtracking the living alarm clock that is Jeon Bam, as he bundles onto Jungkook’s bed at just gone six-thirty the following morning.

But then you look up at him, and his stare is hard. Still sparkling, yes - but diamonds, not stars. Concrete speckled. Pennies tossed in an empty well; the steel bolt of his door which keeps the outside world at bay.

Hard, like he imagines your teeth would be; tugging on his bottom lip in the shadows of his bedroom. Hard, like he imagines your nails would be; leaving a trail of ruby red sin down his back. Hard, like he imagines your laboured breaths would be; lips resting ajar against his, your very essence pouring into him as he pushes into you.

Hard. Soft. Confusing and conflicting, and just so unbelievably him.

“What?” you question, bemused by the way his demeanour changed. “‘Daddy’ really gets you, huh?”

“Does fuck all for me,” he says with a little temperance, but there’s a smirk on his lips. His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek.

A few have tried the moniker on him, but it never fit well. Would fall from their lips and crash to his bedroom floor. He’d just kiss them to shut them up.

But you… You have him reconsidering. Have him a little hot beneath his sweats.

It’s not really the idea of being your Daddy, but the concept of being one full-stop that has him adjusting his legs slightly. He’s a man of big investments, after all. No greater investment than starting a life with another person. He likes the idea of it.

Makes him think of you talking with a toddler - I’m not sure, baby, go ask Daddy -and the pitter-patter of feet across the hardwood floors of his apartment. Makes him think how gentle you are with Bam, and how wonderful he knows you’d be with a kid. Makes him think all kinds of shit he’s never let himself indulge in before.

When he goes to bed that evening, and his sheets are seeped in the scent of your perfume, he thinks of it all over again.

Thinks of you.

And realises he can’t think about you without his heart racing, any more.

The door of the annexe in his mind is broken, now. Off its hinges.

And apparently, so is he.

Shit.

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #officeworker!jungkook #fuckboy!jungkook #f2l #hi bam!!!!#ian #jungkook fluff

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yes-divine-ruler · 1 year

Note

Hi just wanted to say I absoloutely adore your blog, you are so talented!

I was wondering if you could perhaps do prompt no.25 with Kai.

Thank you so much.

love u tysm !!!! <3 I’m blushin like crazy 🤭🥹

Kai Anderson Smut Drabble

Prompt 25: “First one to cum is a loser”

Kai pounds into you mercilessly from above you, tucked between your shaking thighs with sweat dripping from his forehead. His eyes are squeezed shut and his jaw goes slack as he feels the pulse of your walls around his sensitive cock.

“Don’t stop, oh my god, just like that!” You’re withering away beneath him, clutching onto his bare shoulders with your fingers dug into his pale skin.

“I could do this all day sweetheart,” Kai brings his face to yours and kisses your lips, “don’t forget, first one to cum is a loser.”

You didn’t know how long you could last. The tip of Kai’s cock brushed against that spongey spot inside you time and time again, the lewd squelching sounds of your cunt only a small indicator that you were close.

“Kai! That’s not- that’s not fair,” you gasp as Kai places his wet fingers over your clit, applying pressure and circling your arousal around the sensitive bud.

He lets out a dark chuckle, slowing his movements for only a second. It was still enough time for you to switch your positions, using your legs to flip yourself over. Now sitting on top, you could control the situation much better.

Kai’s big hands plant firmly on your hips.

“Smart little girl, aren’t you?” One of his hands travel up the side of your body until his fingers are sensually pinching your nipple.

“First one to cum is a loser,” you mock Kai in a whisper, trailing kisses down the stubble on his jaw as you begin to move your hips.

“Fuck,” Kai groans, guiding your hips with his hands as you rise and fall on his cock, the swell of your tits bouncing every-time you’d slam yourself down onto him.

You lay with your chest flush with Kai’s, your arms tucked beneath his head as you bury your face in his neck, biting down on your lip and trying not to let go.

Your slick was trickling down Kai’s cock and making a mess on his thighs. Kai’s breathing picked up pace, heavily panting with every movement you’d make. You’d almost had him, until his hands forced your hips down onto his cock as far as they would go, and his tip nudges against your cervix.

You scream, trying your hardest to lift yourself up and away from his bruising force.

“It’s not that easy,” Kai coos, flipping you over once more so you’re on your back, “I always win.”

Kai drives himself deep into you, your legs now folded up to your chest. You’re spread out for him just the way he likes it, giving him access to your poor, swollen clit.

“No! Nonono!” You whine, finding it futile to cry and move away.

“I know you wanna cum doll, just let go,” Kai torments you, watching his cock slide in and out of you and his thumb brush against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“I almost- had you- oh fuck! Kai-“

“That’s it baby, cum on my cock,”

Ready to accept your losing title , you finally let go, not being able to contain your moans as the unbearably tight, hot coil in your abdomen snaps, and a tingling heat spreads across your body.

“Oh fuck, that’s my girl,” Kai takes his time to thrust in and out of you, the creaminess of your release coating his cock and making everything ten times more sensitive.

“Who’s my little loser? Told you I’d win,” Kai teases you, before he can finally stop edging himself and release himself inside you.

“Shut up,” you grumble, your eyes heavy from being so fucked out. You barely register what’s going on before he’s cumming, using your weak and sore body at his disposal.

“Feels so good to win,” Kai whispers against your lips, capturing them in a soft kiss before he’s pulling out of you, letting his cum run down your sopping cunt and stain the sheets beneath you.

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters requests #evan peters smut #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader #american horror story #2nd person pov #fem!reader #kai anderson imagine #kai anderson smut #ahs kai anderson #kai anderson fanfiction #kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #kinky kai anderson

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ghost-with-a-teacup · 1 year

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 (𝐈𝐈𝐈)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Let's go back to the beginning, when you meet Miguel for the very first time.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of loss.

A/N: Hello!! I'm sorry for the unexpected hiatus, but I'm back with the much requested first meeting for the couple in 'What's In Between' (read it here! and read part 2 here!) Enjoy :3

Alright people, let’s do this one last time.

You were bitten by a radioactive spider, and for the last 2 years, you were your world’s one and only Spider-Woman.

Your job took you around the entire world, not limited only to your hometown (even if that one time you went to Paris was by hanging on for dear life on a hijacked plane), and while it was difficult, saving people was the reason why you did what you did.

It’s what led you to this predicament now.

“Oh c’mon Vulture! You gotta stop doing this, we’re practically best buds by now, aren’t we? So why don’t you just relax, let me take you to prison and we can call it a day, yeah?” you say as you swing from wall to wall.

“Get out of my WAY!” he shouts, flying around as he evades your attacks.

“Don’t be like that,” you snicker, leaping out of the path of a bomb he threw at you. “Alright, hear me out. If you stop destroying the place, quit the whole villain gig, and I’ll get out of your hair. Deal?”

He completely ignores you, continuing to fly higher and higher until he hovers around the highest point of the ceiling.

“Not much of an exit you can take there, bud!” you shout up at him before glancing around at something you could use to take him down. But before you know it, he’s nosediving straight down.

Straight into you.

Desperately you try to shoot out your webs to escape, but he extends his wings, expanding the area of impact and leaving you with nowhere to run.

He smacks you out of the air, and you’re hurling toward the ground as the wind is knocked from your lungs at the collision.

Right before you can hit the concrete floor, fluorescent red webbing emerges from a bizarre sort of glitching portal effectively saving you from the fall.

But then you’re flung back into the air with a yelp as the man uses your form to propel himself out and toward Vulture.

“WHAT THE FUCK DUDE!” you shout as you fly before slinging yourself to the nearby wall.

“I just saved you,” he says bluntly before promptly ignoring you again. You shoot him an incredulous look before rolling your eyes. Yes, you were grateful but this guy already seemed like a major asshole.

Shooting out your webs, you swing up to meet your ‘saviour’.

“So who are you, mystery man?” you ask.

“Do we really need to do this right now?” he glances at you before slinging further away, trying to grab ahold of Vulture.

“It’s just common courtesy!” you shout up at him.

“That’s classified.”

“YOU’RE classified!” you say back, and he only blinks at you for a moment. You knew it was childish, but this guy was very quickly getting on your nerves. Let’s be honest here, its not every day that some random man comes flying out of some portal straight into a fight.

Especially someone who was just like you.

You didn’t think it was possible that there even could be anyone else like you. While heroes were common in your world, no one had powers like yours. Telekinesis? Check. Super-speed? Double check. The list goes on, but someone with web-slinging, spider-like powers? As far as you knew, you were the only one.

Until now.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say,” he says, his webs wrapping around Vulture’s wings. Quickly you wrap your own webs around him, effectively hindering his movement and any means of escape.

“Surprised you hear anyone say anything, your social skills are atrocious,” you retort.

“My social skills are just fine, thank you,” he shoots back before sirens can be heard rounding up around the building.

“Alright, that’s my cue to escape. Bye, weird stranger!” you say, and with a single swing you disappear into the city.

“WAIT!” he calls out, but you were already gone.

You sat up on a rooftop, the lights of your city at night creating your favourite view. While you had to admit it had its issues, it was still beautiful. It was home. Your mask sat on the ground by your side, a tiny glimpse of your true self behind the hero persona.

“You’re impossible to find, you know,” a voice interrupts, footsteps barely audible behind you. But you had heard him coming from a mile away, or felt him was a better term to use, with you Spidey-sense and all.

“Usually the whole point of disappearing is because you don’t want to be found,” you say with a shrug, turning around to look at him. “What do you want, stranger? I have a city to take care of.”

While he would have never admitted it then, you truly looked beautiful with the glow of the city lighting up your form. Stranger or not, he thought you were beautiful from the start.

“My name is Miguel O’Hara, and as I assume you’ve figured already, I’m not from this world.” He introduces.

“I had a feeling you weren’t from around here. Considering the fact that you were trying to find me, it’d be safe to assume you already know who I am?” you ask.

“I do. I’m aware of all those with unique spider abilities in each universe,” he responds.

“So what are you doing here, Miguel O'Hara? Or better yet, what do you want from me,” you ask, standing up to meet him at his level (though he stood much taller than you, but it was worth an effort).

“I wanted to recruit you to Spider Society,” he says. “To become a protector of the multiverse, and the canon events that follow everyone destined to live the lives that we do.”

You can’t help the snort that escapes, and you look him up and down.

“If you knew about me, you would know that I don’t work with others,” you say, your eyes darkening for a moment. “It’s too much of a liability.”

You used to have a partner in crime, in the early days of your life as Spider-Woman. He was your best friend and…well, you know the rest. You never worked with anyone again, at least not extensively. You told yourself it was so that no one else could get hurt because of you. But selfishly, it was because you couldn’t bear the hurt of losing someone dear to you again.

Miguel’s mask disappears from his face, and you’re met with an expression of understanding.

“I probably know better than anyone the pain of loss that comes with this job. But what if I told you it was for a reason? That the loss we go through? That it wasn’t for nothing, it wasn’t just a ‘fuck you’ from the universe to make us suffer. It’s so that we could become who we are,” he says, and you can’t help but hesitate for a moment.

“I would tell you that it’s bullshit. I’m not one for the whole ‘fate’ sort of thing. Life is what you make of it, you have the power to change the course of your life, it’s not just some sort of higher power dictating every event of your life. I am who I am because I chose this life, and not because I was fated to be here.”

He sighs as he looks at you for a moment.

“I knew this would be harder than I thought,” he says, and you only shrug.

“Let me show you something. Lyla?” he says, and a hologram pops up.

“Yes?” she asks.

“Do the thing,” he says, and she sends him a confused look. “What thing?”

“The multiverse explainy thing, what? How many times have we done this?” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose, and you can’t help the small laugh that sneaks out. Lyla sends you a wink in turn.

“Look dude, I’m just an AI, you gotta tell me what I need to be doing, I don’t have mind-reading capabilities yet,” she says, but quickly the city disappears from view, replaced with a complex interconnected web.

“This is the multiverse, are you aware of it?” Miguel asks.

“The theory that beyond the scope of our view are unobservable parallel universes that exist simultaneously, right?”

“Correct. Well, that theory is proven to be true as I’m from an alternate universe. Specifically, the one that holds Earth-928 where I exist as Spiderman 2099. You are from Earth-1550 where you exist as your world’s Spider-Woman,” he explains.

“How do I know I can trust you and your word?” you ask, and he deadpans. “You and I both know that you sensed I was not from this universe the moment I walked through that portal,” he says, and you only grin.

“Never hurts to ask, right?” you say, and he scoffs.

“Anyway, to continue. Each one of these nodes is a separate universe,” he points them out as he walks through the web. “And these,” he says, gesturing to the larger portions that each node connects to at some point, “are canon events. The parallel events that happen to every single Spider individual in every single universe.”

You look around at these so-called ‘canon events’, and every one takes you back to the moment you lived through them yourself.

The bite. The exploration of your newfound abilities.

…the loss of your best friend.

“They’re sometimes good, they’re sometimes bad, and sometimes they’re terrible. But each event is part of every spider’s life, and it makes us who we are whether we like it or not. I’ve observed and studied this for years, and the theory remains true in every new world I look at.”

“Okay…so my point is disproven, duly noted. But this whole ‘protector of the multiverse’ gig, what’s up with that?” you ask, still not understanding why he wanted you.

“The thing with canon events is that they must proceed, for the sake of a universe. The whole idea of ‘changing your fate’ through a series of actions was always going to happen whether you realize it or not. But with the emergence of more complex technology comes the capacity to multiverse jump, like in my case here,” he explains, and you take a moment to process his words.

“Alright, continue,” you say.

“These individuals are not part of that universe, and are in turn a new variable in the universe’s series of events that are supposed to occur. Disruption of these events can and will cause that universe to fall apart because they were never supposed to be there in the first place. My job is to ensure that no canon events are disrupted, in turn protecting that world, and the multiverse.”

“Okay wait, wait. I don’t get it, you’re saying that interference can cause a universe to just up and disappear? Just like that? I find it hard to believe,” you say, your suspicion growing.

“What do you not understand? Each minute decision made has a rippling effect. Disregard enough of what’s supposed to happen in one world and it destroys itself from the inside out,” he says, his frustration quickly growing evident (man, this guy has a temper!)

“I just don’t understand how one decision someone makes could destroy an entire universe, and you’re not really giving me much to go off of besides your word. I’m not one to blindly follow someone because they tell me to.”

“You want proof? Alright, I’ll show you proof,” he says, and all at once, the web disappears and is replaced by rippling holograms, transforming it into a whole new world.

A world that was falling apart at the seams.

All around you people are screaming as the buildings vanish without a trace, leaving not even dust behind. And one by one they too disappear.

Then, you see a familiar face. Miguel is running, and in his arms is a little girl no older than 9 clinging to him like he was her lifeline.

All she can utter is ‘Daddy’ before she too disappears, leaving Miguel behind with a devastated look on his face.

You can’t help but take a step back, a hand covering your mouth at something that looked like it only happened in movies.

Before you know it, there’s nothing left of the world. From behind his hologrammed form Miguel emerges, looking around at what was left behind of his former world.

Nothing.

“The reason I know it will happen…is because I was the cause of the destruction of a world myself. I found a universe where I had the life I always wanted. The canon event that happened was that the Miguel in that world was supposed to die, leaving Gabriella alone. But instead, I made the decision to replace him, living the life that I was never supposed to have.”

“For a while…I was happy. But little by little the world was collapsing at the seams because I was never supposed to be there. I disrupted the course of events, and it caused everything to fall apart while I could do nothing but watch,” he says, his eyes distant.

“Do you understand now, why what I do is so important?” he asks, his hardened voice now soft as he tries to conceal the hurt.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” you whisper, and that’s all you can say because you don’t know what else you could say.

He glances back up at you, his red eyes glassy for a moment but he blinks it away before you notice.

“So, will you join?” he asks, holding out a single watch expectantly.

“Okay,” you say, finally relenting.

Maybe this was the start of something new.

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @phobia032, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin @theprettyarachnid

A/N: Real talk, I wasn't sure I was even going to post this today because I went dirtbiking for the first time yesterday and fell about a million times, and my legs are bruised to the hells because I don't know how to jump out of the way hgfjkghfdgjhkd. But here we are! Thank you for reading (and I'm sorry its not my usual fluff for this story, but this is how I imagined they met lolol)

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderverse spoilers #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv #spiderman atsv #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman

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javiscigarette · 1 year

Text

Bad Mood

Joel x f!reader (pre/no outbreak)

Summary: Based on this ask (thank u nonnie)!! Joel punishes bratty reader that's it

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW 18+ no use of Y/N, established relationship, straight up filth not much else, dom!Joel brat!reader, spanking, fingering, orgasm denial, oral (m receiving)

Word count: 3k

A/N: Using this as my 450 follower celebration! I'm so grateful for everyone who's followed me and enjoyed my silly little fics. I love this community <3. Also, this is relatively short but I am already planning a part two to this so stay tuned hehehe. my masterlist

Joel knew you were in a bad mood the second you walked through the door.

The door slams behind you and carelessly toss your keys on the little entryway table. You keep your headphones on as you kick off your shoes and stomp off to the bedroom, not even bothering to look at Joel who’s sitting on the couch in the living room not even six feet away.

Joel stays silent as he watches you stride down the hall to the bedroom, wincing just slightly when he hears the bedroom door slam shut.

You keep your music blasting as you immediately change into your comfy clothes. Today was a horrible day at work. Your boss has been breathing down your neck for the last two weeks about a project you're working on, nitpicking every single detail and telling you to make a million changes. And today, despite all the edits and changes she told you to make, she still picked it apart, telling you that you were better off restarting the whole thing.

And now you were left with a day and a half to “fix” this project before it’s due. So yeah, you were in a bit of a bad mood.

After changing, it’s straight to stress cleaning. With your headphones on, you storm back into the kitchen and start to pull out all of the cleaning supplies from under the sink. Your music is loud enough that you don’t hear Joel clearing his throat behind you. You only notice that he’s there whenever you stand up and turn around. He says something to you and looks at you expectedly, forcing you to stop your music.

“What?” you snap at him, ripping out one of your ear buds.

Joel raises his eyebrows at you and holds up his hands in innocence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your narrow your eyes at him because how dare he interrupt you right now with his genuine love and care for you.

“No.” you reply firmly, putting your earbud back in.

You go to start cleaning, but Joel is saying something else before you can even pick up the rag.

You rip your earbud out again and actually snap at him this time with a “What Joel?!”

Joel tilts his head with his eyebrows raised, giving you a silent warning to lose the attitude.

But the last thing you need right now is someone else telling you what to do.

“Can I please just clean the damn kitchen in peace?” you ask, your words biting a little harder than you intended but you don’t care.

Joel stares at you for a good five seconds, his jaw subtly shifting and clenching as he grinds his teeth.

“Okay.”

That’s all he says before turning away and walking out of the room.

You immediately feel a pang of guilt seeing him walk away, but the anger is quick to wash it away and cloud your head again.

You spend the next thirty minutes scouring the kitchen from top to bottom. Every cabinet door and every drawer you open is shut with a slam and you scrub the countertops so vigorously that your arm is starting to get sore.

Thinking he’s given you enough time, Joel comes back in, standing near you as you scrub away at the spot of burnt on food on the stovetop. You can see him in your peripheral, standing a foot or two away from you but you ignore him. You already told him to leave you alone once.

He stands there for a few moments, trying to get you to look over at him but he eventually gives up and just takes out one of your earbuds.

The saying “seeing red” never made much sense to you until just now.

“What the hell, Joel!” you shout, finally turning to face him. The anger boils up inside of you and you can feel your whole body heat up you try to snatch your earbud back from him but he’s faster than you and holds it up high to where you can’t reach.

“Joel I’m so fucking serious right now, just leave me alo-”

Joel takes out your other earbud and tosses them to the counter behind him before you can say anything else.

“Joel!” you nearly scream, your face red hot with anger now.

“Quit acting like a fuckin’ brat” Joel says quietly, his tone serious and stern.

“I’m not being a fucking brat, you’re the one annoying the shit out of me right now”

Joel’s eyes narrow, trying to mask his shock at your attitude. You’re rarely ever this angry and you almost never take it out on Joel like this.

“Drop this attitude right now and I’ll give you one more chance and act like you didn’t just fucking say that” Joel says, his voice audibly tenser.

You roll your eyes and reach for your earbuds again, but again, Joel is faster than you and pins your wrist to the counter with his hand.

“Joel, just fuck off” you mutter. His grip on your wrist is so tight that your fingers are starting to tingle from the restricted blood flow. You look up at him and immediately realize how fucked you are. His face is hard as stone, a deep frown tugging at his lips while he stares holes into your own eyes.

“Okay, baby. You want to act like a brat, I’ll treat you like a fuckin’ brat” Joel spits before tugging harshly on your wrist and dragging you out of the kitchen.

“Joel, I am not in the mood right now” you say as he leads you to the living room, nearly pulling your arm out of socket as he does.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Joel says firmly. He stops near the couch and release his grasp on your wrist.

“Now get on your knees and shut that mouth up with my cock.”

You snort at his words and laugh right in his face.

“You think I’m going to blow you right now? You’re the one who should be apologizing to me” you snarl, accusingly poking him in the chest to emphasize your words.

Joel is still as a rock as he stares at you again, the darkness in his eyes already starting to break down some the resolve inside of you.

“You’re gonna regret that, baby.” Joel whispers from behind clenched teeth.

Without another word, Joel grips your wrist once again and steps towards the couch. He sits down and pulls you until you’re standing in front of him before pulling down your shorts and panties in one go. He then pulls you down into his lap and even though you try to fight back, Joel is a lot stronger than you and easily maneuvers you until you’re on your stomach laying across his lap with your face pressed against the couch cushion and your ass in the air. Joel keeps a firm hand on the back of your neck, pinning your head to the couch with your face smushed against the cushion.

He uses his other hand to rub your ass, the soft shorts you put on earlier easily riding up and exposing most of your skin. You try to wiggle out of his grasp but there’s no use. He’s not letting go of you now.

“How many do you think you deserve?” Joel asks, his voice steady and calm again now that he has you like this.

You don’t say anything, just humph and try to squirm out from underneath his hold again. Bad idea. The grip on the back of your neck tightens and then the room is filled with the loud crack of his hand coming down heavy on your ass.

You yelp in surprise, tingles of pain radiating from the spot here he spanked you. Your determination to keep up this attitude is quickly crumbling. Joel knew exactly how to put you back in your place.

“I think at least 10” Joel says before delivering two more harsh smacks to both cheeks. You bite back a whimper, still enough willpower to try and not let him see how affected you actually are. “Starting now.”

Your eyes roll back, and your brows furrow deeply as he gives you another hard spank. The moan in your throat comes out through your nose as a sharp exhale as you keep wiggling in his lap.

Joel’s hand comes down on you again, the loud sound echoing in the otherwise silent house. “And we’re gonna start over if you don’t count them for me.”

Another spank has your eyes squeezing shut. “That’s three then” you pant.

“Nope, we’re starting from the beginning” Joel says before connecting his palm to your ass again. “That’s one.”

You try twisting out of his grip once again and his next smack is even harder.

“Stop trying to escape or I’m gonna add more. Now count for me”

You stop wiggling, slowly starting to accept defeat.

“Two.”

Joel hums in approval and lands another harsh smack to your cheek.

“Three” you say obediently, still trying to cover the tremor in your voice. You’re still fuming and the fact that he has you pinned down like this, completely unable to move is fueling your fire.

Another smack.

“Four.”

By the nineth, you’re clinging to the last shred of your control. Your cheeks are burning hot, your skin raised in the shape of Joel’s handprint. By now, you can feel him fully hard pressing against your abdomen.

“Nine.”

Joel can hear the tremble in your voice now, clear as day. He silently rubs his palm over your cheek, soothing the warm, swollen skin.

His soft touch is gone as soon as it came, his fingers quickly finding your slit instead. With no warning, he plunges two fingers inside of you, easily curling his fingertips against your g-spot.

“Yeah, I knew you’d be fuckin’ soaked” Joel says with a breathless chuckle as he keeps prodding against your spot, the lewd sounds of his fingers moving inside you echoing around the room. You cry out in surprise as Joel relentlessly punches his fingers against the spot that sends massive waves of hot liquid pleasure up your spine. You try to swallow your moans, still refusing to give in to him all the way and bite your lip until you taste the metallic tang of blood.

“Just give it up, baby. I know you want to” Joel coos. And he’s right, you want nothing more than to just give it up and let him put you in your place. But you can’t give up just yet. This wasn’t the first time Joel has punished you and every time he does, there’s something inside you, an urge to find out how far Joel will take your punishments.

So, you shake your head as much as you can with his hand still holding your neck against the couch cushion.

Joel clicks his tongue disapprovingly letting you know that you made another bad choice. You suppress a groan when he pulls his fingers out of you. He takes his hand off your neck and grips both of your cheeks and spreads you open. You quietly hiss at the bite of the cold air against your burning wet heat.

“Such a pretty pussy” Joel whispers as he leans over to get a good look. It takes everything in you not to moan and wiggle your hips in his face as he keeps you spread open and inspects you.

Then there’s the sound of Joel spitting behind you. You swallow thickly, pushing down another moan once you feel the warm liquid dribble onto your skin and slide down between your cheeks. Your chest tightens at the sensation, and you bite your cheek as a hot wave of arousal crashes down over you.

He sits up straight again, his hand quickly coming back to wrap around the back of your neck and hold you in place again. With his other hand, he finds your puckered hole and rubs over it with the pad of his thumb, using his spit as lube. You let out one small whine when the tip of it catches on your rim.

“C’mon, angel. Lemme hear those pretty sounds and I’ll let you cum” Joel presses.

You can’t possibly hold out any longer. Not with your skin hot and burning from your spanking, his fingers pushing hard against your g-spot, his thumb teasing your asshole and the big, strong hand holding you down by your fucking neck.

There’s nothing you can do to stop the loud moan that tumbles past your lips as he moves his fingers reach deeper inside of you until he presses a spot even deeper inside you.

“There it is” Joel sighs, his chest swelling with pride as you tremble and start to fall apart underneath him. “That’s a good girl.”

He stays in position for a little longer, your pretty sounds filling the room as he gives you exactly what you need. You’re already close because of course Joel knows how to get you there in just a couple of minutes. He knows your body almost better than his, knows what makes you tick and recognizes all of your signs.

So, it’s not surprising that he hears the specific moans and can feel the way that you clench around his fingers, wordlessly letting him know that you’re about to reach the edge.

And it shouldn’t be surprising when he suddenly slips his fingers out of you and lands a final smack to your ass, heavier and louder than all the others, but it still makes you cry out. You whimper at the loss of his touch and the way the burning pain radiating from his hits mixes so deliciously with the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Count, angel” Joel says calmly, giving you a friendly reminder that you’re still in trouble. Five minutes ago, you would’ve ripped his head off for saying that. But obeying is a lot easier when you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

“Ten. Ten, sir. Thank you” you mewl. You know that he’s probably not going to let you cum soon. You’ve been here enough times to know that much. Still, you wiggle your hips, hoping that he’d go easy on you and slide his fingers back inside you. But Joel is not known for going easy on anyone.

“Good girl using your manners” Joel praises. “But you were a very bad girl earlier. Do you think bad girls deserve to cum?” he asks, quickly washing away any of your hopes of an orgasm in the near future.

Joel doesn’t say anything else as he maneuvers you again, pushing your legs to the ground and holding down on your shoulders until you’re kneeling in front of him while he remains seated on the couch.

You look up at him with wide eyes, your chest heaving as your knees dig into the hardwood floors underneath you as you stay still and quietly wait for his instructions. You have no fight left in you, completely surrendering to him just in hopes of being able to cum at least once tonight.

Joel smiles down at you and cups your jaw. You immediately nuzzle against his palm and bat your eyelashes innocently at him.

“Now suck my cock like a good girl I know you are.”

You follow Joel’s command easily and reach for the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull down his pants and boxers to his mid-thigh, his hard cock slapping up against his lower abdomen.

With no other preface, you take him in your mouth, your lips wrapped around his tip as you roll your tongue all around his sensitive head. And apparently that’s more than enough teasing for Joel because his hand comes up to the back of your head and forces you down his length.

You gag at the sudden intrusion and try to quickly recover, not wanting to give Joel another reason to punish you more. His hand remains heavy on your head, holding you in place with his cock down your throat as you drool around him for a few more seconds, your cunt throbbing between your legs as he uses you.

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out your smart little mouth” Joel huffs.

You give a small nod, and he lets go of your head, letting you pull off for a breath. He watches you intently as gasp for air, smirking when you start to cough.

“My cock too big for you, angel?” Joel teases as he brings a thumb to the corner of your mouth to wipe up your drool before pushing it back in your mouth. You shake your head no and Joel smiles at you and removes his thumb so you can talk.

“No, sir. I can take it” you reply breathlessly.

“Yeah, I know you can, angel. Now show me how good you can be for me.”

With another small nod you take him back in your mouth. His hand returns to the back your head and he rolls his hips up, pushing himself down your throat.

You stay as still as possible, keeping your mouth and throat open and letting Joel fuck your throat. You’ve had him in your mouth almost every day since the first month you met him, but your jaw already starts to ache like it’s impossible to get used to the sheer size of his cock. Drool starts to spill out of the corner of your mouth again and you shamelessly let it run down your chin.

Joel shows no mercy, bucking up into you like he’s completely disregarding the fact that you need to breathe. But you know he’s not. You know he has a careful eye on you, watching for signs that he’s pushing you too far.

“Takin’ me so well, angel. Knew you could be good for me” Joel grunts, encouraging you to keep going as the hand on your head briefly pets your hair.

All the anger that had been building for the past couple of days has dissipated. All the stress about your job and your ridiculous boss were miles away and now the only thing you're thinking about is Joel's thick cock down your throat.

You stay there for what feels like forever and allow him to use you as he pleases. Your neglected pussy clenches desperately around nothing, slick leaking down your thighs because how could you not be turned on with Joel using you like his personal fucktoy.

You’re now drooling everywhere, absolutely soaking his cock as you breathe heavily through your nose, your eyelids heavy. And as much as Joel wants to continue to fuck your mouth until your jaw breaks, he can’t hold back his own pleasure for much longer.

After a couple more thrusts down your throat, he abruptly pulls out and His hand is a blur as you watch him fist himself for a couple of seconds until he starts to cum. His moans and little whimpers send fire straight to your core as he paints your face with hot ropes of cum. He’s messy with it, letting it get everywhere, your chin, your mouth, your cheeks, and your hair. You mewl quietly and press your thighs together searching for any sort of friction on your dripping pussy as Joel marks you, claiming you as his.

You patiently wait for him come back down, listening his quiet groans as he pumps out every drop.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he leans back against the couch and drops his hand from your head again.

“You look so pretty all covered in my cum, angel” Joel says with a lopsided smile. You smile sweetly back at him, your eyelashes fluttering against your flushed cheek. He swipes a thumb through the mess on your cheek and slides it past your lips. You suck his thumb clean, swallowing down everything he gives you.

He revels in the sensation of you suckling on his thumb for a little bit before slipping it out with a soft pop. You look up at him, waiting for his next instruction with the hopes of having your own release soon.

“Knew you could be good, angel. Now go finish cleaning the kitchen and then I’ll think about letting you cum.”

Your jaw drops as you stare up at him with wide eyes. Joel just laughs cruelly at your expression.

“But...but Joel, please I want-”

“Should’ve thought about that earlier, angel. You know bad girls don’t get to cum. Now get up and finish cleaning” Joel says with a sickeningly sweet tone. You blink at him a few more times hoping he’d miraculously change his mind.

But he doesn’t. So, with your attitude completely gone now, you follow his directions and shakily stand up. You give him one more pathetic, pleading look but he just smirks back at you. Accepting defeat, you turn and walk back to the kitchen.

“And don’t even think about cleanin’ your face yet” Joel calls out from behind you.

Ty for reading hugs and smoochies for all of you!!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller one shot #the last of us #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #javiscigarette

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