#Help my sanity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

likesomeoneinlovee · 14 days ago

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐉𝐀𝐖

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: A frustration fueled Joel comes back from scouting with a very prominent issue.

Warnings: PORN NO PLOT. Teasing, thigh riding, throat-fucking, oral m!receiving, Joel calls himself daddy (my bad 😵‍💫), pussy & dick pronouns. Wc: 2k, f!reader

AN: this was all written within the span of an hour so my bad, this is what ovulation does to a bitch.

Home alone. For three whole hours.

Joel went out scouting.

Your eyes that whole time had been staring holes into the floral wallpaper of the flat, without much to do -or, more realistically without the man you’ve been thinking about doing all fuckin’ day. It was a draining experience. Your fingernails peeling up the flesh of your thighs as you sunk further, deeper into his living room couch. It smelled like him. The musky scent he wore all seeped into the upholster.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking once he had inserted the key made your ears perk, hours of listening to your own heartbeat the time you weren’t desperately trying to stimulate your accumulating thoughts about him. The touch, the feeling of his body that you’ve only felt one whole time in which you had never gotten it off your brain. Thick fingers running along the puffy, sopped folds of your pussy, stretching you. Running his free, spit slicked palm over and all the way down his cock to get himself ready. The feeling of his girth forcing into your hole.

You’d never forget.

The door would creak open before you locked onto him. A thick hand wrapped around one of the straps of his supply bag before he dropped it onto the ground next to the door, a long exasperated sigh escaping past his parted lips. Running thick fingers through the greying curls on his head.

“Fuck.”

Cursing, Joel would walk past you and to the kitchen, opening the first cupboard which to his luck had some booze in it. A stale, half empty bottle of said booze. Popping the cap off, taking a swig.

Finding it difficult to look away while the man did something as simple as drink, the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat as the bready liquid moved down the pharynx.

Satisfied from the liquid quenching his thirst he walked back over to the couch, sitting down directly next to you, his thigh touching yours. Hadn’t been able to notice earlier whether it was the angle or how fast he walked through the house, his cock was writhing tightly against his jeans. Sunrays shone through the windows, curtains open. Yellow hued light outlining the bulge. Clearly he had been like this for a while. His worn palms running down his face.

Your lips parted, tongue tied by the sight. It was a test, surely.

With little-to-none resistance your hand reached out to place on his thigh, one of your fingers would stretch to touch the curve sticking out in his jeans, the pad of your index hardly applying any pressure before tracing his dick, watching it jump before you felt Joel’s hand grab your wrist.

“All day- All fuckin’ mornin’, baby.”

Fingers twisting over the skin on your arm, another twitch from his cock would draw in your attention. He’s been waiting.

“You didn’t have to come all the way back here. You have a hand.”

Stating as if there wasn’t a pool of your own slick in the middle of the lace underwear you had only dug through your drawer to find earlier in the day. On your mind all day was this very moment, you had been counting every tick from the clock as you waited for him to walk into the room and fuck your face.

“I swear to fuckin’—“

His legs spread open over the cushion, tapping his boot against the hardwood. Impatient.

To reiterate again, waiting all fucking day. Now with you here the thought of waiting another second had him struggling. Wearing loose boyshorts around your hips as you sat there he’d lean over you, hooking his finger to the hem before yanking them off those pretty legs. A palm he had placed on your low stomach now sliding til his hand was underneath the white, lace panties he oh-so-loved. His tall finger slipped past your clit, into your swollen slit. You’d mewl.

Soaked.

“Knew it.”

He yanked you onto his thigh, moving his hand down to your ass, squeezing, fat spilling between his fingers. Luckily his second hand had been lazily resting at his side now had a purpose, up your back and to the back of your head to hold onto your hair. His lips slamming into yours. No mercy behind the kiss.

Your hips began rolling at a quick pace, your cunt slowly coming un-covered with every thrust down into his jean clad thigh. His tall finger finding his way back to your hole beneath your underwear, tracing it with his thick digit. Pulling his lips back from yours with a wet smack.

“She’s fuckin’ droolin’.”

He’d drawl, to no avail you’d try to force that finger into you by a buck of your hips downward. Thus, he’d withdraw. A reward game, you’ll earn his fingers later.

One more long grind down into his thigh that’d surely serve you a friction burn later and you were off his leg. Dropping onto your knees in front of his lap. You’d swear you’ve only dreamt of being in a position like this. Your smaller hands started at his calves before resting on his thighs. His coffee eyes staring into yours.

He wouldn’t waste precious time now, unbuckling his belt to toss it away. Unzipping his jeans to shove them to his upper thighs, the last article of suffrage being his boxers, a dark wet spot painfully obvious on the grey cotton. He’d tug on the elastic that rimmed the top before tugging his briefs to his upper thighs, with the quick pull his cock sprung up slapping against his tummy.

His shaft was turning red. Tip pulsating. His thumb ran down to spread the bead of precum over him, laminating the dark pink bulb til’ it looked like glass. A flutter in your stomach at the sight.

“Stick your tongue out.” He’d just barely manage to groan.

Control now gained with his fingers wrapped around his base. Your knees now hitting the base of the couch, it was as close as you could get. Obeying the commands you opened your mouth, your pink, saliva slicken tongue sticking out.

His cock slapped against your tongue, driving it into your wet hole with his free hand as his other worked into your hair, his fingers forming an O around your thick locks as a makeshift hair tie. Though, you’d find this was better.

He was fuckin’ big. Even taking him into your pussy didn’t do him justice, only truly able to fit him halfway into your small mouth.

It wouldn’t be enough for him.

His hips would buck forward, his cockhead hitting the back of your throat. Involuntarily your throat would clench - teetering the lines of a gag and a spasm of your muscles. Though, your eyes began to gloss over.

The knot in your pelvis tightened while Joel craned his neck back against the back of the couch letting out a long, rough groan. Such a tough girl, he’d figure a few good thrusts wouldn’t be the thing that’d ruin you.

Another buck of his hips sent a wrack through his body, fucking his thick cock into your throat. Your drool dribbling down his shaft. Your eyes hadn’t unlocked with his own ‘less they were going to roll back into your skull with every hit to the very back of your tongue. A moan bubbled up from your tightened throat, vibrating up the thick length of his dick. You could taste how his vein would throb and pulsate against your cheek. No doubt he was close.

With your mouth managing to take every. Last. Inch. Of him so deeply. There was no way he could last.

Your own thighs would clench together as your eyes finally took a break from straining upwards to now clenching shut. Your juices collecting all in the middle of your panties. Your clit throbbing excruciatingly hard. You knew better than to touch yourself. Focusing and giving your body up to the task at hand.

Joel’s breaths turning into deep pants. His balls tightening, drawing up. Though he had a better idea than just cumming straight on the spot despite that just being the thing he’s been pining for all fucking day. Tugging on the hair falling between his fist he pulled your head back, his cock extruding from your mouth with an audible, wet ‘pop!’ sound. Glossy eyes gazed into his as his flickered down to his cock, jumping straight up once released from your mouth one big mess of his precum mixing with your salivation.

“Makin’ such a mess of him, huh?” He’d grunt. Completely gawked by the sight. “Such a fuckin’ mess of daddy’s cock.”

You could’ve sworn this man was giving your pussy a heartbeat.

Before you could give any sort of catty response his cock was shoved back into your mouth, giving you no time to readjust, to get used to the feeling of his burning tip knocking at the back of your throat. Managing by the grace of God to stowaway your gag reflex seemingly just for the evening. His pace slowing, beginning to get sloppy quicker. You’d have a lot to say if you didn’t have a mouthful. Though, deep down you knew that your unhealthily cock-drunk brain would be unable to formulate a coherent sentence. One with both sense and grace.

“Just. Like. That.” He punctuated.

Thrusting deeper til your nose was bobbing up and down against his pelvis. Nuzzling into the scent that came within the dense thicket of greying, wiry hairs. All curled around and crowing his base. You felt the thick vein that traveled all the way down the girth of his dick pulsate against your overstuffed cheek. A whine from you would only shake up his shaft. His tummy tightening up, hips spasming. Another violent thrust to the back of your tongue those built up tears to freely fall down your cheeks.

Again.

Sliding his cock from your lips to shove it back in again. Every time taking the split second to admire all that drool dripping down the line of his strained cock.

“Fuck! Baby—“ Absolutely strained.

He’d throw his head back, bumping it against the back of the couch as he let out a long, throaty moan. He pulled out of your mouth, the overused motion you’ve grown so very accustomed to, though this time your tongue stayed out, perfectly so as he was able to paint the pink muscle with hot, thick ropes of cum. Pumping his fist over his cock as ropes of semem shoot down your tongue and straight to the back of your throat. Painting his own perfect masterpiece on the fleshy canvas of your mouth.

Swallowing every last droplet as if it were liquid gold.

His stomach rose and fell heavily with each breath, his hand reached out to grab your chin, the pad of his thumb pressing down on your glossy bottom lip. Every. Last. Drop. Though, he just had to make sure.

“That’s what I like to see, babygirl.” He’d praise. Lazily tugging up his boxers so he could conceal his freshly mouth-fucked cock, concealing with another layer courtesy of his unzipped jeans. Sure, you finished him the fuck off but that didn’t mean he was gonna soften up anytime soon.

You’d just hardly make it back onto your trembling legs as you looked at him, panties slid to the side from unconsciously grinding against the cold, wooden floors. A droplet of that warm, glue-like slick trickling down your inner thigh once you stood up. Joel’s eyes followed the stray tear.

“Goddamn, baby. Lemme take care of that for you.”

That’s what you like to hear.

Standing up from the couch with a long grunt he’d lift you off of your feet, carrying you straight to his bed. Soon enough he’d be two knuckles deep into your aching pussy, giving you all that sweet pleasure you so deserved after earning it so fuckin’ well.

1K notes · View notes

likesomeoneinlovee · 1 month ago

Text

𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Summary: You and Arthur sneak away from camp to the nearest hotel in the city for both of your needs.

warnings: PORN NO PLOT. WC 2k, Face sitting / riding, sub!Arthur at some points, Arthur jerks off while you sit on his face. Chapter 4!Arthur Morgan, hotel room fuckin’, ( Anyway, love a man who yearns for real )

Author’s note: very very short fic while I work on something that isn’t Arthur!! oml I’m sorry but I’ll forever be obsessed with this man. Also why is there no sub!Arthur fics on here y’all please work on that.

Getting away from camp seemed to be a challenge for you and Arthur.

Both of you being Dutch’s own personal prized ponies. A bounty hunt was a good excuse for you and Morgan to go off alone though the two of you have already used the excuse a couple times before. There was no errands need to be ran, Dutch was still conjuring up his next job for you two, and unfortunately you couldn’t so simply say that you and Arthur were going to fuck. It was tasteless not only, but it was also smart for the two of you to keep your relations a secret.

Waiting for the hand of Arthur’s pocket watch was hell as you sat in his bedroom in the old plantation home, waiting with your nerves high for a good time to leave camp. One in the morning seemed far too early, by two everyone would be drunk…er than they already were, by three everyone would be uncaring to any noise surrounding them. The sound of you and Arthur’s heavy steps against the muddy ground or the sounds of your horses trotting away from the camp.

Once the right time came you and Arthur snuck out. Riding hard to the city, streetlights making the wet roads shine to lead a path to the hotel.

His warm hand held yours as you two checked in, his voice so confident now every time he’d tell the clerk a simple “Mr. and Mrs. Callahan.” That fake last name he had been using for months now. The clerk knew who you two were, frequent visitors of the hotel of course.

This was turning into a common occurrence.

His hand moved to your lower back to guide you up the stairs of the hotel, his spurs jingling with every step he took. Now to the hallway, to unlocking your door with the keys.

Arthur was a man who’d strain himself every day to be the man in charge, using his hands to choke and beat, to steal and rob. Even now his knuckles were bruised with evidence of that fact. It’d make sense for a man like him to want– to crave to not be the boss some of the time, this seeped into his sex life with you.

Falling to his knees in front of you, his forehead pressed against your knee before he craned his head back at the feeling of your fingers running through his sandy waves. The man was mush for you, his legs buckled as he kneeled against the hardwood floor. His lips trailed to press firm kisses up your thigh, spreading your legs apart. His Adam’s apple bobbing with each hard, dry swallow of all the salvia building in his throat.

His body was burning up. Somehow eating you out always brought him more pleasure than you using your mouth on him. Though, you were real fuckin’ good at that. It was better to give than to receive.

“Princess.”

His voice sounded like a strangled whine as his palms soothed up your thighs. Those pretty eyes of his would stare up at you– his pupils so blown the blue of his irises could barely be seen especially in the low light of the oil lamp casted upon the room.

“Don’t go beggin’ now.”

You’d look down at him, your fingers raking along his scalp. The feeling of his almost impossibly soft lips trailing up and up underneath your skirt as he slowly pushed it up to your hips tightened the knot in your belly even more so than it already was. Needing the relief and release you’d only find through him.

His wicked tongue.

His touch was heavy handed down your legs, grabbing onto your ankles to gently guide your legs onto his shoulders, the mass and muscle providing your own personal rests.

He dipped one of his fingers underneath the white lace of your panties, running it down your slick slit, the act not only claiming a gasp from your lips but one from his own, his head dropping to the side of your thigh as he began rubbing your clit with the pad of his index.

“S’fuckin’– Soaked. M’don’t deserve this.”

The man was desperate, he couldn’t help the need in his voice.

It was slow, so achingly slow. You needed him on that bed with you. His poor knees didn’t need to be suffering against the uncomfortable hard floor for much longer anyway. You and Arthur had gotten to the point of being able to go unspoken, yet you had grown so fond of the speaking.

“Arthur,” You’d begin, your fingers curling in his locks tight as you pulled his head up and back, his eyes glossed over– he was practically salivating. “Get up here.”

You’d say you were just as needy as him but the way he looked at you told a different story, the man was desperate for it, so quick to act on your command he’d toss your legs off his shoulders, his hands grasping at your hips to lay you on the bed just for a moment, dragging your milk white stockings down your legs and off alongside your boots. A shallow breath left the back of his throat while he slid off your panties. Soaked. Now discarded to the floor.

He was entirely weak for you. He quickly got onto the bed, not bothering taking his clothes off– no need for that, he was here to please you. His spurs dug into the mattress as he laid on his back, his mind flooded with the thoughts of what he wanted, what he could do to please you.

He wanted to be at your mercy.

You would try to get the buckle of your belt unclasped, desperately trying to get your skirt off before you felt the touch of Arthur’s hand on your arm.

“No– no need.” He’d grit. “Come up ‘ere.”

Assuming that he meant his lap you’d crawl your way onto him, your skirt flowing over his thighs as you avoided sitting right on his gun belt he had kept on. His cock would twitch against your thigh, his head leaking an embarrassing amount of pre-cum into his pants, a wet spot so-barely noticeable against the front of his pants.

You felt his hands move up your thighs, his fingers massaging into the flesh. It wasn’t long before he tugged you up, your knees bent on either side of his head as you were above him.

“Oh fuck.” The words came out as a groan, so infatuated by the sight, the smell. It was clear what he wanted when his hands would try to get your hips down, the man was silently begging you to sit.

“Arthur, I don’t know if I–”

“No– no, please. Please.”

His begs took you aback a step, his words were so fucking breathless, his head dropping back against the pillow. “Please” Another plead from the back of his throat. It was quite impossible to resist. You allowed him to tug your hips down, his nose pressed against your clit.

With the first lick from his tongue your hands instinctively went to his hair. Tugging tightly before letting him seep fully under your skirt. Worshipping your cunt with every long lick from his tongue, his lips kissing your pussy over and over again. He’d be praising you, thanking you for giving him privilege to please you, every moan that came from him muffled into your flower. His tongue delving into your hole.

“Fuck!” You’d cry, fingers pulling so tightly on his waves as your cunt contracts around his tongue. You weren’t the only one in need of touch, so desperate your whole body was in tremors: So was Arthur.

His massive hand held tight on your waist, squeezing and groping your skin. Now his freehand was moving slowly down his own body, his chest rapidly rising then falling again, his middle inflating before going back to normal once again with every deep breath. Your eyes were shut tight, the moans falling from your slacked mouth were irreligious. Once his hand moved to his jeans he blindly unclasped his belt, tugging it off as his hips bucked up. Frantically, so fucking frantically he unbuttoned his pants, the material rubbing against his swollen dick was torturess in the sense, his toes curled in his leather boots once his cock sprung free, slapping up against his stomach.

He was helpless.

He wrapped his massive hand around the girth of his cock, his face stuffed between your thighs. Burying his face into your swollen folds to muffle his own needy whines, absolutely ungodly groans coming out of his employed mouth.

His hand slid up and down the length, squeezing the thickness of it, pre-cum dribbling into his fist. Your hand braced behind your back on his chest as the other remained tangled in his brunette hair. The feeling of his frantic breaths, his heart hammering against his ribs, you’d lift your hips a bit trying to provide some air for the man beneath you– his hand immediately forcing you back down.

“Arthur! M’so fucking close–”

“Mhm.”

His hum vibrated against your pussy as you rode his mouth, he was desperate, praying to taste your sweet release. His hips violently bucking into his own fist as your sopping hole clamped around his tongue. The twisting in your tummy told you that your orgasm was around the corner, your body aching for the climax

Arthur’s as well.

The man had a gift of eating pussy, he could be suffocating in the wetness, your slick pink folds pressed against his face, he’d pass out before he tapped out. He was only a man.

The sloppy sounds of Morgan’s mouth lapping at your slickness was the last thing you heard before your own loud noise– your jaw slacking as you let out a ripping moan as the knot in your pelvis untied. Riding out your orgasm on his face.

His balls tightened up as his own orgasm hit him, his load spurting over his fist as his legs kicked out against the bed. You hadn’t even notice your poor man had been jerking his own cock til’ the moment in play, your legs shook as you got off his face, dropping down on the bed next to him, his face colored a hot red, your juices dripping down his stubble and mustache.

Once the breath stolen from him was back in his lungs he was quick to act, wrapping his arms around you to pull you onto him again, your body laying on his, you felt fucking tiny against his muscles, the mass of his body, how he could be so insanely muscular –though his body was so comfortable.

“Oh, sweet girl.”

His head craned back against his pillow, the sound of your pants harmonizing together before placing a kiss against your collar, both of you uncomfortably clothed. He was promised to serve you.

“May I?” His fingers were fiddling with the buttons of your blouse.

“No need to ask.”

He slowly pulled apart your shirt, dipping his face down to bury into the valley between your tits, the man was in constant need of your touch. His hips rocking against the bed, his body throbbing.

“More?” You’d look down at him, your fingers massaging against his scalp gaining a quiet whimper from his plump, wet lips.

“M’Just tell me I can have you… I need you– So Bad…”

His words had a habit of slurring together, laying boneless against your own body. His hand running up to squeeze your breast in a firm grip. His fingertips kneading into the tender mound.

“As long as I’m the one on top.”

You’d mutter, though that went without saying. His cheeks burned hot as his eyes peered to look into your own, his dilated pupils told you enough.

“C’mon then, sunshine.”

He placed a firm kiss against the top of your breast. Allowing you to straighten your back with his hand on your lower.

For the rest of the night he’d be worshipping you like a goddess. You were his religion.

#help my sanity #arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 #dutch van der linde #fanfic #john marston #one shot #red dead redemption community #ao3 #arthur morgan red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #video games #red dead redemption two #red dead 2

347 notes · View notes